Chapter Text
Fast-paced, adrenaline-fuelled arachnid. The serendipity of an escaped spider, fate interlocking it and him. Eywa had it out to make Neteyam's life as complicated as ever.
Night had fallen many hours prior, but the city stayed as busy and bright as always. A crescent moon beamed down on his running and exhausted figure. The town was entirely of electric towering buildings, each competing to touch the sky.
Neteyam had spent the past few hours hunting, tracking down, and patrolling. To his red and gold fortune, there were no dangerous villains or beings. (Other than the Octo-lady he had fought earlier in his dimension…that led to part of his dark blue, gold-striped suit getting stained with a sticky crimson. He'll get patched up; it was only a jab to his arm.)
Neteyam flicked his wrists and swung, feeling only the dullest of aches. Webs held tightly on a fancy apartment railing. He pushed himself, perhaps with more force than necessary, allowing him to stay suspended with the wind.
The feeling was exhilarating. It was like he was flying. Neteyam imagined that riding a mythical ikran would be like this: cold air against his face, spider-touched system intoxicated with freedom.
Freedom.
That was his opiate, his golden apple guarded by the plethora of eyes; he would gladly churn an ocean of milk to reach immortality.
Futuristic buildings shone like the stars. Neteyam loved this place at night.
The sky was asleep while the city was awake. The city is lavishly hued in blue, pink, and purple.
Neteyam smiled as he skillfully flipped before landing in the perfect position in front of a large window sill. A cuckoo bird he resembled, cawing to get in. Though, he held no deception. He rapped his knuckles on the window seven times before finally getting let in by the beautiful soul on the other side of the eye.
“You're late,” Ao'nung pointed out, still grinning nonetheless. Neteyam huffed and threw himself into Ao'nung's embrace. The latter moved the fabric of his mask up to his nose and pecked his lips.
One must imagine Sisyphus happy, taking solace with his destined lover for eternity—a soulmate connected with a crimson string, tying their lives together.
“Better late than never,” Neteyam replied, inhaling Ao'nung's sea salt scent. He must've gone surfing again. And yet, his black coils lively bounced. Seriously, what conditioner did he use? He shifted on his feet, padding the carpeted floor. Like the outside, Ao'nung's interior was full of lights and futuristic items. Eywa, even his bed had teal lights emitting from the bottom. At first, this classy and chaotic cyberpunk world was an eyesore, but Neteyam got used to it over time.
“You're bleeding,” Ao'nung frowned as he pulled away and grabbed Neteyam's left arm to inspect. Neteyam tugged off his mask and threw it across the room with his other hand.
His skin was ever so slowly knitting itself back together—the sight made his stomach churn, so he decided to ignore it until it was done. Eywa, how much easier would it be if he plucked soft peaches from a jade emperor’s garden? He’d instantly be healed after one bite.
“Yeah,” Neteyam hummed in agreement, unfazed. He eyed Ao'nung's fancy black desk nestled in the corner. It was filled with screens of code, chargers, digital pens, and diverse little trinkets Neteyam sometimes brought back after his usual fights.
“Tsireya made another dream catcher?” Neteyam quirked an eyebrow at the sight. A pretty, bead-filled dream catcher hung from the desk. This one was slightly larger than the rest, sporting a few good feathers as well. It uniquely stood out from the over-the-top furniture, looking simple, as most would say, but it was beautiful.
“What do you think?” Ao’nung replied. Tsireya had taken up quite the hobby, skillfully weaving dreamcatchers. She seemed to have mass-produced them and deposited them in her brother’s room, much to Ao’nung’s annoyance.
“A yes, then. She's getting better,” Neteyam stretched, pulled away from Ao’nung, and walked towards the desk. He twisted a feather in his nimble fingers. It was soft against his print.
“Did you make it to the swim team?” Neteyam remembered Ao'nung telling him about his school's tryouts a month ago. His trophies and medals on his shelf proudly displayed his experience and winnings.
“Of course I did. I mean, I'm so irresistible that the school had to pick me. It would be a sin otherwise!” Ao'nung teased. Neteyam went back up to the other boy and flicked his forehead.
“It appears Water Boy's ego is getting a bit big again,” Neteyam smirked. Ao'nung put a hand on his chest and pretended to act hurt.
“You wound me, ’Teyam.”
“Someone has to tell you the truth!”
Neteyam yelped as Ao'nung playfully pulled him down onto the bed. “Unhand me, you fiend!” Neteyam shrieked as Ao'nung loomed over him.
“No, I don't think I will, Shakespeare,” Ao'nung sang before the shorter grabbed his shoulders and flipped him over, leaving Ao'nung under him. Both almost fell off the bed.
“How the tables have turned!” Neteyam exclaimed victoriously, knees by Ao’nung’s sides.
“How the turns have tabled,” Ao'nung childishly remarked, earning another flick. They were silent momentarily; Neteyam turned red as he realized their position. The whole busy world out there could see them through Ao'nung's massive and transparent window.
Ao'nung sat up and kissed Neteyam lightly on the lips. Neteyam reciprocated immediately, feeling his heart swell. It was as if they'd been shot in the heart with a love-tipped arrow again.
“You’re a sap,” Neteyam mumbled into Ao’nung’s lips.
“You know you love it.”
“Yeah, I do.”
They found themselves getting lost in each other’s eyes in an attempt to find the souls they loved dearly. Neteyam’s heart fluttered.
The door suddenly opened, making them both jolt.
“AO’NUNG! WHERE DID YOU STEAL MY-” Tsireya yelled before noticing Neteyam, her tan face burning crimson. She shrieked and covered her eyes with her hands. Neteyam rolled off of Ao’nung sheepishly, wishing for the blankets to envelope his frame and bury him deep in the bed.
“Hi, ‘Reya,” Neteyam mumbled as Ao’nung rolled his eyes.
“Tsireya, I told you to knock!” The tallest scolded.
Tsireya huffed. “I didn’t know you’d be doing it! ”
“We weren’t doing that!” Neteyam yelped.
Tsireya sighed in relief. “Thank Eywa! It looked like it. Anyways, Ao’nung, I’m going to take a shower, and your crusty buttface needs to return my conditioner.”
Neteyam perked up and shot off the bed. “Oooh, finally! Show me the conditioner!”
Ao’nung threw a royal blue cat plushie at him. “No way! It’s in the bathroom, but ‘Reya, don’t show him! I’m gatekeeping my secre-'' the cat smacked him back, fueled by playful retribution. The girl giggled and walked off.
“You hurt me with your secrets,” Neteyam pouted playfully.
“Eh, you’ll live,” Ao’nung shrugged, cradling the soft toy and twisting one of its yarn braids Tsireya sewed on top of its head after its purchase. Neteyam still didn’t see the resemblance between it and him, but Ao’nung insisted on it.
Suddenly, Neteyam's watch flashed on and off a few times. He had set a timer for when he would be expected home. Home: not where his lust-filled heart lay but one for platonic family love. The same heart held different forms of adoration. Sometimes, Neteyam wasn’t sure which part of it should lead. He chose his mind instead.
Ao’nung leaned closer and frowned. “So soon?”
“Yeah, sorry,” Neteyam mumbled, flicking his wrists to grab his mask with webs. That's it? His mind scolded. No guilt? Do you even love him? Remorse was something hard to describe on his features. Duty versus audacity: duty wins. But over duty, would Neteyam find himself left in solitude after boredom held the reins of Ao'nung's heart? Hopefully not, Neteyam wished as he stood up and balled the fabric.
Ao'nung stood up, letting the cat plushie rest on the bed before hugging Neteyam gently. Neteyam wrapped his arms around the other, not squeezing tight. Every goodbye ended like this: the unspoken fear of this being their last was always an invisible, heavy burden on their shoulders. He wanted to stay like this for eternity and longer, content here without any expectations.
“I’ll see you again soon, right? You won’t leave for two weeks again?” Ao’nung asked, half-joking and half-serious, his mouth attempting to tug upwards into a grin, but it looked plastered, forced. His eyes scanned Neteyam’s face, drinking in every detail as if this would be his last.
“Of course,” Neteyam assured, pulling away and began to type in his dimension’s digits. Ao’nung eyed the watch wearily with a sense of longing. Gold latched onto blue as their gazes locked.
“Bye,” Neteyam said in a voice no higher than a whisper before he jumped into the vivid portal, sending him to his other home. He didn’t hear Ao’nung’s response as the portal quickly closed.
➝❃➝➝➝𝍄
Neteyam crept to his window, carefully peeking into his room. Thankfully, it was vacant, so he slid up the glass and crawled inside. He quickly tugged on gray joggers and an oversized sweater he had stolen from his dad, with a band name printed in bold, white letters.
Unlike Ao'nung's cyber world, Neteyam's was bland. Bland and incredibly dull. There was no over-the-top technology. No sleek cars and buildings. And there certainly was no Roomba named Herbert that couldn't pull itself back on its wheels after falling over. No, it is most likely an accomplished one named Sherrolanda or something.
Neteyam shook his head and walked downstairs, where his family was currently eating dinner.
“Finished your project and homework?” Neytiri asked, chewing. She shot a look at Tuktiery when her youngest daughter began to play with her food messily. Little green bits and pieces housed themselves in places that weren’t Tuk’s mouth or her plate. Herbert, their Roomba, greedily swiped the fallen remnants into its mouth.
“Not yet,” Neteyam said, seating himself next to Lo'ak and Kiri. His siblings momentarily eyed him before returning to their phones, faces bathed in a ghoulish blue light. Neteyam picked up his fork and gnawed the tip.
“I don't understand why you don't come back from Rotxo's house using the door,” Dad huffed. “It makes no sense. You look like a gangster.”
“I do not look like a gangster. It's just easier to go back and forth since his house's room is literally right next to mine,” Neteyam retorted. Thankfully, his friend Rotxo obliged his continuous requests to back him up in case his mom or dad ever called. Not without a few questions and side eyes, however. Neteyam assured him everything was alright.
“Fine, fine, whatever you say. By the way, the councilors arrived at your school today, right?” Jake questioned his eldest son.
“Mhm,” Neteyam replied, shifting the pieces of his food. His counselor was a lovely woman, probably in her late twenties or early thirties. She had made him complete a time management paper for his accelerated classes and extracurricular activities.
“You told them all the classes we discussed you would take?”
“Yes.”
Jake nodded in approval. “That’s good.”
Neteyam sighed reluctantly and nodded. A hefty silence filled the room once more like a suffocating fog. Taresm, a close family friend who attends Pandora College—aka his dream college—had taken the same classes Neteyam was planning to take when he was Neteyam's age. It was only fit to follow in his footsteps, to use Taresm's mistakes and make it into something better.
Neteyam couldn’t always explain himself to his dad, having to flee with a cut-off nose and humiliation. Of course, the war was only within himself—a fake war, as it probably was; he exaggerated at times. His dad meant well. Of course, Neteyam knew that.
Neteyam picked at the broccoli on his plate with his fork before bringing it up to nibble. The vegetable left a bitter taste in his mouth, but a gulp of cold water washed it away. Herbert nudged his feet under the table, and Neteyam resisted the urge to drop-kick it out the window.
“By the way, I'm close to finding that ‘Avatar Spider,'” Jake said after some time, oblivious to how his words bathed Neteyam's heart in a river of pain.
“That's nice, dear,” Neytiri said kindly. Lo'ak and Kiri quietly mumbled something similar, though they weren't listening. Tuk's hands were her distractions—something along the lines of Right Pinkie murdering Left Ring Finger. Neteyam wasn't sure how she could create stories with anything.
“That's good, isn't it, Neteyam?”
Jake queried, directing his attention back to his eldest son. Herbert refused to let up, bumping his ankles as if pressing him for affection and answers.
Neteyam tensed. “Mhm. Wonderful. That's great. But, uh, have you ever thought that maybe...maybe Avatar Spider is a good guy and is just…misrepresented.”
The room went quiet. The light flickered. Neteyam squeezed his eyes shut and winced, immediately regretting choosing the pathway of speaking his mind.
“...Neteyam. He's a killer, you know this. He allowed Quaritch to bomb the western part of the city and has done nothing to put an end to all the chaos. There's no ‘misrepresentation’ there.”
What about all the times he saved the city from villains? Neteyam's heart retorted. He had proof of the one he fought mere hours ago on his arm in the form of a now-healed scar. It would disappear soon, but not from his mind. He remembered every cut that once adorned his body.
Neteyam sighed and dropped his head down. “Yes, Father. May I go upstairs?”
His plate was mainly full since he had lost his appetite.
Jake nodded absently, not watching Neteyam leave. The boy crept upstairs and quietly shut his door, not locking it. Jake didn't like it when he did that. He plugged his grey earbuds in and sat on his desk, scribbling away at his homework. His grades had suffered as much as he had--crime fighting and patrolling was anything but quick and easy. Even with his super-human abilities, Neteyam was tired. Tired of being Avatar-Spider and not himself. Tsu’Tey wasn’t sending him any reinforcements as a lesson for ‘better time management.’ It was like he had not only acquired spider powers but also a second unreasonable father.
“‘Better time management’ my ass,” Neteyam mumbled, biting his lower lip before grimacing. He recently had been trying to quit curse words to appear as a proper and dignified student. Was he trying to lie to the teachers or himself? Perhaps both, and maybe Ao’nung, too. The latter had never liked when he cursed.
The small, printed words on the pages made no sense whatsoever. They unstuck from the papers and danced around his head, taunting his inability to articulate their hidden meanings. The graph on his math homework remained empty, and the equations were unsolved. x glared at him, demanding he find its answer. Neteyam scowled and glowered right back.
Neteyam punched in the stupid numbers in his calculator. Syntax Error showed up instead in pixels.
“You're a syntax error,” Neteyam growled in frustration and flung the plastic calculator across the room. It bounced on his bed, ricocheted off the wall, and slammed into the floor with a new scratch.
Neteyam swallowed thickly, his heart palpitating and leg bouncing. This was stupid. It was pointless, meaningless. He squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in his hands, angrily murmuring at unfinished calculations and his slow brain. In doing so, Neteyam realized he missed the best part of the song he had been listening to, making him feel worse.
School never sucked this much before. Why now, when these classes were the most important? He needed to get himself together if he wanted to succeed, be independent, and not end up living in this house for the next twenty years. Neteyam kind of felt like crying, his throat constricting. Everything was so stupid, and—
A knock at his door jerked him back from his stressed thoughts.
“Come in,” Neteyam swallowed thickly and blinked away unshed tears. The burning sensation creeping in the back of his throat subsided.
As Lo'ak entered the room, Neteyam said, “Hey, Buttface.”
Tsireya would be incredibly proud of the new addition to his vocabulary. The thought of her led to Ao'nung like clockwork, and the image of him in his head made Neteyam smile slightly.
“Buttface you,” Lo'ak retorted, plopping on Neteyam's bed.
“What do you want?” Neteyam asked, removing one of the earbuds to dangle precariously. The other loosened slightly; he adjusted it. His younger brother usually came into his room to retrieve something for himself.
“Eh, nothing. I'm bored.”
“Hi, Bored, I'm Neteyam. Nice to meet you.”
“Shut your crusty dad ass mouth up.”
“Nah,” Neteyam pushed himself out of his seat, too tired to complete homework. It was a Friday night, so he'd have the weekend to at least attempt to finish the pile. However, he already knew a red marker adorning his paper with a zero was on its way. He flopped onto his bed face-first, holding a teal seal plushie to his face. Lo’ak chuckled and sat down next to his brother.
“So…how’s your day going? I dunno; Kiri said maybe I should talk to you.” Lo’ak rolled his eyes at their adopted sister’s antics.
Neteyam took a deep breath and screamed into the seal.
“Oooookay then. Not great,” Lo’ak sucked his teeth, twiddling his thumbs. He wasn’t good at comforting like their mom.
Neteyam groaned and rolled onto his back. “Not the best day today. I’m tired.”
“I…see…?” Lo’ak said meekly.
“I’m fine, baby bro. You don’t need to play therapist for me.”
The younger one bit his lip. “You seem to have a lot going on in your head right now.”
“It’s just that…” Neteyam stopped himself before he could reveal too much. His shoulders slumped. Idyllic thoughts of Ao’nung trailed through his mind like a calming aroma. As selfish as it sounded, Neteyam would rather Ao'nung in bed than Lo'ak. They'd joke, Ao'nung would toss random pick-up lines, and Neteyam would laugh, even if they were shit. But that was in another world, in a timeline that had already happened.
“It’s just that the world is so big and so full and—” Neteyam suspired contently, spreading his arms. “There's so many wonderful people. Wonderful person.”
“Does ’Teyam have a crush?” Lo'ak quirked his eyebrow, resting on his side and leaning on his elbow.
Neteyam flushed red. “No—yes—no? Well…kinda?”
Lo'ak cackled. “He does! I never thought this day would come! Do they know?”
“Uhh…yeah! They do. We're kinda dating…” Neteyam exclaimed, flustered. He wasn't sure why he was exposing his secret flame. It felt nice to share, really, but so random. Alas, the words had already left his mouth.
Lo'ak's jaw dropped. “Ain't no way. Actually? And you're keeping it a secret from Dad? That's crazy! Who is it!?”
“Um…somebody…”
“Have I met them in real life?”
Neteyam thought about it for a moment. Yes, Lo'ak has met Ao'nung from this dimension, but not his Ao'nung from another.
“No,” Neteyam decided. The two Ao'nungs were vastly different. One is amazing, lovely, the only person keeping Neteyam sane--and the other is incredibly punchable. There was no in-between. “But I would love for you guys to meet in the future.”
“Who knew the golden child was such a rebel?” Lo'ak teased, punching his older brother in the arm. “Maybe I should tell Dad just for the sake of you finally getting a taste of the consequences.”
“You wouldn't dare. I've saved your butt too many times to count.”
“Hm. You never know. People change~”
Lo'ak yelped as Neteyam pushed him off the bed with a heavy thud.
“You've been stripped of your immortality, peasant,” Neteyam called. “Suffer and starve.”
“So cruel!” Lo'ak whined, brushing a few hairs of carpet and dusting off himself as he got up. He sat back on the bed, the cushions and sheets dipping from his added weight.
As Lo'ak made himself comfy again, the lights automatically clicked off after being used for so long. The artificial stars stuck on the celilingbarely glowed, the years sucking away their spark.
“But seriously,” Lo'ak started, “how long are you gonna keep them a secret?”
“Until I figure everything out,” Neteyam mumbled, playing with the pillow's corner. Once he goes to college, he can have access to unlimited tools. A unique lab where he could study his watch for hours to recreate its power—Tsu'Tey wouldn't give him a spare just like that. He wanted to show Ao'nung his place and his life. Blissfully, he imagined a future of them settling in together. Though, in which dimension, he wasn’t sure. He'd have it all figured out later.
“Ugh, I can't wait for college,” Neteyam whispered.
“...Why?” Lo'ak queried, his voice strained.
“I just wanna get out of here, you know? I’ll be free, Dad can’t chase my ass, and I’ll have my life. ” Neteyam stared up at the lackluster stars. Lo'ak stayed quiet. His silence was always the loudest thing in the room, and Neteyam knew that was a clear sign of inner turmoil. Insecurity never strayed too far from Lo'ak's side--it was buried in all the charisma and abrasiveness, but it always came back up.
“Cheer up, Mighty Warrior,” the eldest nudged his brother after noticing his quietness. “I’ll make sure to come and visit.”
To Neteyam's surprise, Lo'ak pulled him in close and buried his face in his brother's shoulder. Neteyam wrapped his arms around the thinner, feeling a hot breath against his cheek.
“Everything will be fine, Lolo,” Neteyam comforted, patting Lo'ak's head. His hands felt soft braids; he must've showered earlier. Clean and renewed.
Everything will work out. Everything will be fine.
Just…fine.