AVATAR TWOW: Torn between the 2

Chapter V| What are you doing?

A O' N U N G
What are you doing?
PT2

I STARE DULLY at the boy that stands before me, unmoving, and with a stupid face, gawking. My hands work to wrap my long curls in my usual bun. He blinks after many blinks, and I grow irritated, however, that light irritation doesn't show up in my voice.

"What you standing there for?" I ask with amusement. He shakes off from his daze and sits at the edge of the small pond I'm in. His eyes look at my every feature, and strangely, I lift my chin higher to meet his gaze.

He has this scowl on his face like he is angry with me. Perhaps more than angry. There is a shining glint within those piercing eyes, overpowering as it bores through every inch of my body. It makes me cold. It makes my body numb. I can no longer feel the warmth of the pond.

"Neteyam," I say, my voice cracking with a coo. I don't know what comes over me as I wrap my damp large hands around his terse forearms.

"What?" He asks, his left hand wrapping around my right wrist. It's like an awakening as both my grasps loosen. He smiles, but it's bland.

"I'm gonna have to leave early today," He says and diverts his gaze as I keep on staring. I'm wondering why he's telling me this. Why do I need to know where he's going?

He sits a few inches away, but his eyes still don't meet mine. My arms rest on the edge, folded over the other for my chin to rest upon them. My eyes are prying as I wonder why he won't look at me.

"Say..." He croons, eyes finally lifting but looking past my shoulders. "How long have you been here for?"

I hum and turn, my back facing him. I sink into the warmth, and my head rests on the edge. "Maybe a month or two? I stopped counting," I say. He doesn't respond, and I can't tell what he's feeling. I almost want to turn around and—

His hands grasp the sides of my face. His grip is gentle, and that warmth oozes like fire in my body. It burns and suddenly the pond feels hotter. A pleasant hot. His face hovers and those braids caress my face. I feel conflicted, so I frown.

"What are you doing?" I ask, but I don't move away. I linger there.

"You feel like crying?" He asks me.

"You're stupid, forest boy. I'm not one to cry," I say, closing my eyes.

"Don't fall asleep," He says.

"'Course I won't. I haven't eaten yet."

He chortles. His hands leave my face and I hear some shuffling, but I don't open my eyes.

"Don't eat too late. It's not good for digestion," He whispers, his fingers caressing my bun. I hum as I doze off. It's comforting just as it's nostalgic. My heartbeat slows.

"My sister used to do this same thing," I mumble, fluttering my dazing eyes open. I stare at the blinding bright sky.

"Who does it better? Me or your sister?" He asks playfully. I sink further into the pond, the water caressing my cheeks. I shrug and heave a content sigh.

"That's something I'm not willing to answer," I deadpan. Truthfully I could say my sister—nothing beats the original, but I don't feel like bursting his bubble. Not yet at least.

He rolls his eyes. "C'mon, it can't be that bad—"

"You're right. My sister does way better."

He goes still. He scowls and hisses playfully, and I laugh. Something about his hiss tells me that he doesn't hiss often. It's almost...weird? I can't search for the right words, but certainly, it's far from actually weird. It's more endearing?

"You're a bitch," He says with a pop of his lips.

"A what?" I ask, lifting my head to peer at him. His hand cups underneath my chin and I gulp.

"Kal-wey-aveng!" He sounds out every syllable like I am stupid and don't know Na'vi.

"You need to stop speaking your demon language around me," I say, rolling my eyes. "Now are you going to tell me what Oin—whatever means?"

"Ointment?" He thinks for a second, the corners of his lips lifting, and he shakes his head. There's that crinkle to his eyes like he's always smiling. His eyes are always smiling. I stare back at the sky with the tiniest disappointment at not knowing what the Oin-foreign word means.

"Son of a bitch," I say through gritted teeth. He laughs and his face is out of my view.

"Give me my food," I add shortly after his laughter dies.

He sets the woven basket in my prying grasp, and I dig from there.

"You know, you keep leaving your bow. You afraid something's gonna come eat me so you leave it here for me to defend myself? Aww, how cute," I coo teasingly, grinning as I munch on the wrapped seeds. They're sweet but also salty. "I hate to break it to you dude, but I don't know how to shoot a bow. Things are terrifying."

"Yeah..." He lightly chuckles.

I'm starting to get eerie about how much he laughs and chuckles and smiles. It's too much. I should hate it as I'm not drawn to people like that. My parents aren't like that and neither are my friends. Even my sister that's cheery isn't like that. Neteyam is excessive.

But as my ears drown in his chuckles, instead of tuning them out, I figure that perhaps Na'vis like him aren't bad. A faint smile lifts my lips a tad, and I sit there, eating, finding comfort in his presence. I almost feel cheery myself, and I don't mind. He's a childish plague and I stay unbothered. He's not so bad.

My heartbeat croaks up to my throat; it's loud and racy, but serene that I barely notice it.

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