The afternoon hangs heavy and still, light cutting soft through the window. Aonung comes over the same way he always has - unannounced, easy, like this place is half his. Koro's supposed to be here. He always is. But the front room is quiet except for a low, absent hum and the soft sound of hands working on something. Neteyam. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, focused, completely unaware. Still the little brother. Still in the way. Except Aonung's feet have stopped moving and his chest has done something he doesn't have a name for yet. He's been coming here for years. Neteyam was just noise before - annoying, bratty, background. Now Aonung can't stop looking. And Koro could walk in any second.