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Friends. Yeah... Cole wasn’t really familiar with the concept.
Growing up a quiet kid made conversations harder than they should’ve been. Keeping his thoughts to himself was easier then sharing them. So yeah, Cole didn’t have friends. The closest thing to a friend he’d ever had was his sketchbook.
He’d never been too good at trusting other people either. They lied all the time after all. And Cole could tell. He just had to look at their eyes; the eyes never lied.
Not that Cole was too fond of people watching. He preferred his solitude, thank you.
Although, he would do anything to spend time with his mom again.
But he couldn’t.
So solitude it was.
At least until Master Wu took Jay and Zane in as his students as well. Worst. Day. Of. His. Life.
Jay was a good guy, as far as Cole could tell. At first, he seemed a little shy and a lot nervous. He was twitchy and on edge. But he seemed nice enough. Perhaps a little too nice. He seemed nothing like the fighting type. Cole found it hard to believe someone like Jay wanted to be a ninja. He wasn’t exactly tall—although Cole admitted he couldn’t really tell, since he towered over most.
He was pretty sure he could pick Jay up with one hand though.
Nor was Jay very athletic, which showed in how easily winded he became. And his muscles... were kind of... not there.
Cole had no problem with him. At first.
As it turned out though, Jay could talk. A lot. Like, seriously, Cole was pretty sure Jay had said more words in one day than Cole had said in his whole life—which, admittedly, was not a lot to begin with. But still. It was as if Jay had no filter. He just talked, and talked, and talked. And kept talking. Yeah, it got annoying.
As for Zane... well... he seemed nice. He was very polite, if not a little blunt. He was intelligent, but his social skills were worse than Cole’s.
And that was saying something.
Cole thought Zane was fairly tall. Which, again, was saying something. However, he was tall and lanky. He kinda resembled a noodle actually. He was extremely agile though—perhaps because of it.
Like Jay, Cole had no problem with him. At first.
But then it turned out that Zane was kinda weird. And a little creepy. He stared a lot. Like, a lot. Cole could often feel his blue eyes on the back of his head; it gave him the chills. And Zane also had a habit of sneaking up on people. And then disappearing. Cole was convinced he could teleport.
How Master Wu expected him to work alongside these two weirdos, was beyond him. Because there was no way he would ever grow to like them, not even a little bit.
(Unbeknownst to him at the time, they would make him eat those words).
•••
It was Cole’s turn to wash the dishes when he heard the crash, followed by Jay’s shout of pain. Leaving the dishes in the sink, Cole quickly dried his hands and rushed to the garage.
“Jay, are you okay?” he asked once he was in front of the door.
“Yeah, I’m fine!” Jay called back, but his voice was cracked.
Cole listened. He could hear Jay grunting and moving things around. When he heard him drop something that sounded a lot like glass, Cole went in.
There were broken pieces of scrap metal sprawled across the floor, a shattered lightbulb beside Jay’s work table, and Jay stood among the hazardous catastrophe, wobbling on one foot as he held up his bleeding ankle.
“Your definition of ‘fine’ is way different than mine,” Cole said, eyeing his ankle worriedly.
“It’s okay,” Jay insisted, “I just need to get to the first aid kit.” He gestured at the cabinet. He hopped towards it, almost losing his balance and falling back on the broken glass.
“Stop. Let me help.” Cole grabbed Jay when he stumbled, putting his arm around his shoulders, and guiding him to a chair.
He got the first aid kit from the cabinet and, without a word, kneeled in front of Jay and placed his foot in his lap.
“You don’t have to...” Jay protested weakly.
Cole didn’t respond. He removed Jay’s shoe and sock to inspect the damage. There was a nasty cut that stretched from his ankle bone to the side of his heel. Definitely needed stitches.
He started to clean it.
“Um, thanks,” the blue ninja said shyly.
Cole just nodded.
Jay watched him sort through the first aid kit. For a guy with such big hands, he was surprisingly gentle.
Jay smiled nervously when the silence stretched. He never really liked the quiet, but Cole was the quietest person he’d ever met. It kinda made him uncomfortable.
“You-you don’t say much, do you?” he asked, unable to help himself. He swallowed a lump in his throat and hoped he wasn’t being rude.
Cole looked up at Jay; took in the nervous look on his face.
“Never have,” Cole replied. He didn’t know what to say after that. Jay still looked awkward. He wished he was better at this.
“Oh,” Jay said and licked his lips. He looked around, gaze landing on the mess by his work table. He laughed a little, “You’re probably wondering what I did, huh?”
“A little, yeah.” Cole frowned. His own voice sounded weird to his ears. “But you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want,” he said, bandaging Jay’s foot now.
Jay considered that. Not many people had ever given him the option not to talk if he didn’t want to.
He spoke after a moment, “I like to invent. But I’m not good at it.” He strummed his fingers on the armrest, nibbling at his bottom lip. “I should quit. I just... can’t bring myself to give it up for good.”
Jay wasn’t sure what he was expecting after that, but he wasn’t expecting Cole to arch his eyebrow at him and ask,
“Why would you give up something you like?”
Jay blinked.
Cole finished wrapping Jay’s ankle and cleaned up the first aid kit. “I like to draw,” he began slowly, structuring the right words to say, “I do it because I like it. Not because I’m good or bad at it. So, I don’t understand why’d you want to stop doing something you like.”
He stood up and returned the kit to the cabinet. Then he grabbed the broom and dustpan next to clean up the broken lightbulb.
Jay didn’t say anything for awhile. Cole wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. But it was Jay, and he was likely to say something soon, so Cole waited.
“It’s just...” Sure enough, Jay did. He pulled his foot up, picking at the edge of the bandage. “If I don’t get good at this, I’m always gonna be a-a failure.”
Cole looked at him. Jay wiped his nose, trying not to sniffle.
“You shouldn’t think of yourself like that,” Cole told him gently, “Besides, it’s better to be a failure that never gives up than one that does.”
Jay looked at him, surprised. Cole gave him a small smile and went back to sweeping. Jay had never thought of it that way. He usually just let his thoughts beat him up, rather than turning them into confidence.
For a quiet guy, Cole was really good with words.
“Hey,” Jay then said, feeling light and suddenly bold, “Can I see your drawings sometime?”
Cole flushed, bright red against his dark skin, and Jay grinned. He nodded slowly and didn’t say another word.
Jay didn’t mind.
•••
For the past couple days, Zane had been knitting little sweaters. Cole didn’t like people prying into his business, so he minded his own too. But he had to admit, he was curious who those sweaters were for.
There were two. One was red and looked like it would fit the frame of a little boy. The other one was purple and looked like it would fit a little girl.
“Hello Cole,” said Zane, and Cole jumped a little because he hadn’t thought Zane knew he was there.
“Uh... hi,” Cole said back awkwardly.
Zane spared him a glance and gestured to the seat next to him. “You may sit if you like.”
Cole thought about that. Then he went and sat down beside the white ninja. He liked Jay, but Jay had a tendency of asking too many questions. Answering them all left Cole feeling exhausted. He knew Jay tried not to wear him out, but it was hard for him to understand how talking could drain away Cole’s energy.
Zane, on the other hand, said about as much as Cole did. He was a strange fella, but his presence was nice.
After a moment—or really, it could’ve been half an hour—Cole decided to ask, “Who are you making those for?”
He thought it might be for Zane’s younger siblings, if he had any. Maybe some little cousins? He couldn’t have had kids of his own. Could he?
“Oh. They are for the children at the orphanage I grew up in,” Zane responded.
Cole blinked. “You’re... an orphan?” It was surprising, to say the least.
“I do not remember having parents,” Zane replied, “So, I assume so.”
Cole faltered, suddenly feeling guilty for the all the times he’d called Zane weird. It made sense now. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, already feeling tired of using his voice. It was harder to speak when there were heavy emotions involved.
“What for?” Zane asked, stopping his knitting and looking at Cole, genuinely confused.
“Well...” Cole mumbled, “you grew up an orphan. You must’ve had a hard life. I’m sorry for that.”
Zane frowned. “How is that your fault?”
Cole gave him a small smile. “It’s not. But sometimes people say ‘sorry’ when they feel bad for someone.”
Zane just looked even more confused. It was a little funny, to be honest. Awkwardly, Zane reached out and patted Cole’s shoulder.
“There. There,” he said, clearly trying to be comforting and failing miserably without even realizing. “You need not feel bad for me.”
Cole grinned, suddenly finding Zane to be extremely amusing.
Zane’s frown deepened. “Now you are happy?” He sighed. “Everyone is so confusing.”
Cole laughed this time, unable to help it. “I’m sorry,” he said again, “I don’t mean to laugh at you.”
Zane was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “It’s quite alright. That is the first time I’ve heard you laugh.”
Was it? Cole wondered. He rubbed the back of his neck.
“And the first time I’ve seen you smile, actually,” Zane continued, “I think you should do so more.”
Cole blinked at Zane, oddly reminded of his mother. The thought sobered him.
Zane frowned at him again. “Are you sad now?” he asked, “Was it something I said?”
“No.” Cole shook his head. “Just...” he swallowed and cleared his throat, “It doesn’t feel good to not have parents.”
Zane thought about that. “Does it feel good to have parents?” he asked then, putting down his yarn and turning his full attention to Cole.
Zane’s eyes usually felt piercing. This time, they were just curious.
“Yes,” replied Cole, “Having a mom feels wonderful. Having a dad...”
Cole went silent, a bitter taste on his tongue upon realizing he didn’t want to think about his dad. When he thought about his dad, all that came to mind were the fights they had.
Zane didn’t seem to mind that Cole had completely shut down in the middle of a sentence. Jay probably would’ve poked and prodded at him, worriedly asking what was wrong. Zane didn’t.
Instead, he merely picked up his yarn again and continued knitting.
“I think that you and I have more in common than we thought,” he said.
Cole found he couldn’t answer, so he just nodded.
It probably should’ve been awkward. But it wasn’t.
For the first time in his life, Cole felt understood. He had a feeling that Zane felt the same away.
•••
Cole tried to talk more, only because he had to. Teamwork didn’t just magically happen. Not without words. Not without getting to know one another.
It was tough. Most days left Cole feeing tired and collapsing in bed.
He tried being as open as possible, but there were lots of things he didn’t want to tell Jay or Zane, because he’d kept them secret for so long. Some of them were simple things. Like his favourite ice cream. He’d never had anyone to tell and honestly wasn’t sure if he was allowed to now. Some of them were bigger things.
Like his mom’s death. His rocky relationship with his dad. How he’d run away from home.
Zane said it was okay not to say everything though. That everyone had secrets and certain matters they didn’t like talking about.
Even Jay, who wore his entire soul on his sleeve, had said so too. And he was getting better at not asking Cole so many questions. And he didn’t worry as much when Cole suddenly just went silent.
Cole got used to Jay’s chatter.
He got used to Zane’s limited understanding of certain things.
He got used to having friends. And found that he didn’t feel so lonely anymore.
He still missed his mom.
But now he had Jay and Zane, his first real friends, who’d somehow found a way under his shell. And dug spots inside his heart.
They still had some more adjusting to do. But Cole would do it. He’d learn, and try, and make as much room as he could for Zane and Jay.
He’d nearly forgotten what it was like to not be lonely.