Work Text:
The low hum of chatter and voices drift on the air, carefully keeping away the silence that’s grown oh-so common over the last few years. Jay can’t stand silence, not anymore. It makes his skin crawl and prickle, a devastating reminder of what he lost in the merge, and what he may never have again. He has to keep looking though, cling onto what little shreds of hope he has left, because that’s what ninja do.
Ninja never quit.
So, for now, Jay does his best to find towns to rest in at night, or travel with strangers when their paths converge for a short time. It wards off the biting loneliness, even if it doesn’t get close to filling the empty space that eats away at his heart with each passing day.
A mother and daughter walk in front of where Jay’s perched on the front step of a little local grocery store. The girl, holding onto her mom’s hand, looks the spitting image of a young Nya, all thick dark locks and a proud strength carried through her shoulders. Jay chews on the inside of his cheek for a moment, before allowing a sad smile to slip over his features. He misses her so much. So much that his entire being aches with it, ribs feeling like they’re sharpened to a razor-point in his chest, prodding at his heart with each and every breath.
It’s not just Nya though. It’s Kai and his stupid hair, Zane’s delicious cooking, Lloyd’s chatter filling the air whenever Jay actually stops talking long enough to listen, Pixal helping him out on a project, and Cole. What he wouldn’t give to be wrapped up in Cole’s arms again, swept up in the overwhelming feeling of safety, like nothing bad could ever touch him again, as long as Cole was there. He wants to hear Cole’s cheesy karaoke singing and watch him inhale an entire cake in mere minutes. He wants to play Prime Empire together and get yelled at by Master Wu for wasting a day. He wants— he just doesn’t want to be alone anymore. He wants to see his family.
Sitting here and moping won’t make that happen though, as much as he wishes it would, so he gets to his feet, grabbing the bag of produce he picked up at the store. It feels too light in his hands, even still, unused to shopping for just one. Brushing off his pants with his free hand, Jay starts toward the little motel he spotted on the way into town. It’ll be nice to actually sleep in a bed for the night, instead of camping like he’s been for the last week or so, stuck in a forest between towns.
Striding along the dirt path that served as the sidewalk, Jay cast a glance up at the horizon. A bright and vibrant orange streaks across the sky, bleeding into sharp crimson red around the white glow of the setting sun. It’s pretty, Jay notices absently, the colors stark against the thick green landscape surrounding the town.
“Jay?”
The word comes from behind him, back a little ways, distance softening the volume. That doesn’t matter though. Jay knows that voice. He knows it better than he knows his own voice, even with how much he runs his mouth. It stops him in his tracks, feet freezing to the ground like Zane encased them in a block of ice.
His ears have to be playing tricks on him. It’s probably just some random guy that sounds similar, that’s all. That’s got to be it. Definitely. Still, Jay’s heart pounds against his ribs and anxious anticipation builds in his stomach. He actually feels kind of nauseous, which takes him off guard. He supposes it’s just his body already reacting to what will surely be bitter disappointment, betrayed by his own foolish hopes, as soon as he manages to turn around.
Sucking in what should have been a steadying breath, but ends up shaky and weak, Jay forces his feet to move. The ground feels like it’s made of taffy, shoes wanting to stick in the gummy surface, but he powers through. Turning a one-eighty, he shuffles around and his eyes land on a figure clad entirely in black and grey, save for a wide orange stripe wrapped around his chest.
It can’t be. The universe is just playing a cruel trick, just like it did with the Merge in the first place. It’s just a coincidence. But, he drags his eyes up and they meet a mop of black curls, warm brown eyes, thick dark brows, and a pained, yet searching expression.
“Cole?” The name feels clumsy on his lips, brain both lagging like an overloaded CPU and spinning at a mile a minute. As soon as the desperate, fragile word falls from his tongue, the figure is stumbling toward him, tripping over his own feet in his haste.
“Jay!” he repeats, and Jay takes in the texture of his voice, the timbre of it.
It’s Cole. it’s not a trick or cruel play of the universe. His Cole is here, right in front of him, after all this time. The realization finally snaps into place, pulling Jay out of the molasses haze he’d been trapped in, and shoves him back into reality. The grocery bag slips from his fingers, hitting the ground with a dull thud. His feet move of their own accord now, carrying him forward until he’s barreling into that familiar broad chest, burying his head into the bend where Cole’s neck meets his shoulder. He desperately wraps his arms around Cole’s waist, clinging tight, hands balling into fists around the piilled but sturdy material of Cole’s gi.
Cole holds him just as tight in return, strong arms squeezing hard, and knocking the air from Jay’s lungs. He needs it though, needs the physicality of it. It grounds him and forces him to accept that this is real, that this is actually happening.
“Cole,” Jay starts, voice coming out in a frantic gasp. “Cole, it’s really you? I— I can’t believe it. I thought I’d never see you again. I mean, I always hoped that I would, but I was so afraid that I’d lost you. I don’t even know where I am, let alone where Ninjago is, so how was I supposed to find you? But, now you’re here, and I don’t know how, but I don’t really care. I just can’t believe you’re really here. I mean, it’s actually you.” He babbles in Cole’s ear, the hurried rambles tumbling out his lips before he could even think about stopping them.
“Where have you been? Have you seen Nya or anyone else? What have you been doing for the last three years? Are you okay? I hope you’re not hur—” Jays cuts off abruptly, jaw snapping shut, as he realizes that Cole is shaking violently in his hold. Strong tremors wrack Cole’s frame, shoulders and back shuddering beneath Jay’s curled palms. Mind still stuttering and reeling from the initial shock, it takes Jay far too long to piece together what’s happening. He gets there though, the sound of Cole’s breath coming in stilted watery pants registering in his ears.
“Hey,” Jay says gently, releasing one hand from its death grip on Cole’s shirt and reaching up until it lands on the curve of his cheek. The skin beneath his fingertips is slick with tears, wetness gathered in thick tracks rolling down Cole’s face. At that, Jay eases back ever so slightly, just enough to pull his head from the crook of Cole’s neck. He keeps the rest of his body squeezed tight against Cole’s, as if the littlest bit of distance would be enough to lose him all over again.
The sight that greets him is enough to crack Jay’s heart in half. A wobbly smile graces Cole’s lips, strained around the corners and faltering every few gasped breaths. His brows are pulled low over his eyes, knitted with heavy emotion and creasing a wrinkle into the skin between them. Glassy and red-rimmed, Cole’s eyes dart around Jay’s features, frantically taking in his appearance as if he may disappear any second. A reddish pink flush sits across Cole’s cheekbones, disappearing under his dark curls at the sides. But what rips the air out of Jay’s lungs and makes a desperate, clawing ache spread through Jay’s chest are the tears gathering in Cole’s lashes, streaming down his cheeks, and dripping off his chin.
Jay wipes his thumb through the wetness, smearing it across the warmth of Cole’s cheek. He huffs a wavering chuckle, moves to pull his sleeve over his hand with quick, jerky movements, and tries again, the tears absorbing into cobalt blue fabric this time, staining it a darker hue. Cole’s smile comes a little stronger then, despite the way he curls further into Jay and a broken sob breaks past his lips.
“Who knew the master of earth was such a softie,” Jay tries to joke, but his voice breaks halfway through, going high and pitchy, a telling warmth stinging at his eyes. His breath catches in his chest, throat suddenly feeling all knotted up. He drops his head to Cole’s chest, pressing his forehead into the solid and sturdy bone of Cole’s sternum in a futile attempt to hide from the emotion clogging his throat, choking him.
It doesn’t help, and the tears drip from his lashes anyway, splattering into the dusty dirt path beneath their feet. Cole adjusts his hold to support Jay in his hunched stance, one hand clutching at his shoulder and the other winding around his waist, fingers pressing into the space just below his ribs.
The overwhelming force of his emotions hits him all at once: the constant ache of loneliness, the sheer relief of finding Cole, the heart-rending hurt of watching tears stream down Cole’s cheeks and knowing he was just as terribly alone as Jay was, and countless other feelings flood through his veins, washing over him like tidal waves. It draws raw sobs from his chest, vision swimming as an intense ache carves into his bones.
He leans into Cole, limbs gone shaky and weak, and grips him like the lifeline he is. He holds tight like that until the painful, stuttering gasps start to subside and he can pull in a breath without choking on it. Cole’s stopped shuddering too, shoulders only shifting with the even rise and fall of his breath. Sniffling and scrubbing the back of his arm across his face, Jay straightens up again. He remains firmly rooted in Cole’s space, pulled close as if by a magnetic force, but manages to lift his gaze back to Cole’s face.
He looks just about how Jay feels, and probably looks too, wrung out and drained, with blotchy skin and clumped lashes. Jay sniffles again, scrunching up his nose in distaste at the way his nose feels both runny and clogged, rendering breathing through it a useless endeavor.
“You gonna be alright?” Cole questions with a crooked smile, one end of his mouth curving up in as much of a grin as he can muster.
Jay chuckles a wet laugh, reaching up to drag his now damp sleeve across Cole’s face too, wiping away the tear tracks still left to cool on his skin, glinting in the dimming light of sunset. “Yeah, I’ll make it,” Jay offers in response. He’ll be okay because Cole is here now, heart beating steady in his chest, still in one piece and back where he belongs: right at Jay’s side.
“Good, I wouldn’t want you keeling over on me when I just got you back,” Cole says, smile growing until it crinkles his eyes around the corners.
“Don’t worry. It’ll take a lot more than that to get rid of Jay Walker,” he replies, a sense of right embedding itself into his chest. He feels like himself for the first time since the Merge, like he’s been in survival mode for years and joking around with Cole has finally reawakened the real Jay.
“Like a cockroach,” Cole laughs, hesitantly untangling himself from Jay’s hold. Jay almost pulls him back, unwilling to let go, a sinking dread settling in the pit of his stomach as soon as there’s an inch of space between them, but he doesn’t have to. Cole reaches down and takes Jay’s pale hands in his own, freckled skin covered by scarred and calloused palms. It settles that frantic panic that comes snapping at him in the absence of Cole’s touch.
“I would be mad that you’re comparing me to a bug, but cockroaches are objectively awesome, so I’m taking it as a compliment.” Jay levels a grin mirroring Cole’s own, and simply soaks in the relief that comes with finally having his boyfriend back. Gaze wandering around Cole’s features, he’s met with the reminder of how much time has passed, and that things have changed. Cole’s hair is longer now, cutting it likely forgotten in the search for family and home. He’s acquired a new scar too, a little sliver of darker skin cutting across his chin, just below his lip on the left side. Jay’s struck with the urge to kiss it, but holds back, since Cole’s eyes are roaming across his face as well.
Jay knows he’s changed too, freckles more prominent after lots of sun exposure and he’s currently sporting a faded bruise across his right cheekbone from getting into a skirmish with some low-level thieves in the last town he stopped at.
“I missed you so much,” Cole says after a beat, squeezing Jay’s hands lightly. “I would’ve killed to hear you talk about rusty old trains or how to turn a motorcycle into a jet, or well, anything.” He looks at the ground, smile slipping for just a second before curving across his lips again. And Jay, he knows how Cole feels all too well. He feels it seared into his very bones, thinking back on every sleepless night and lonely day where all he wished for was to tell Cole about his adventures, or laugh with him about something funny that happened the other day.
“Well,” Jay starts, drawing out the word, “I’ve got three years worth of stuff to tell you, so you better buckle in because I’m ready to talk your ear off for at least the next month.” He doesn’t miss the way Cole brightens a bit, excited by the prospect.
He feigns annoyance though, rather flimsily if you ask Jay, a grin and wide, shining eyes breaking the illusion. “Is it too late to act like I never saw you?” he questions, and the dampness of tear-soaked sleeves pressed against Jay’s wrists renders it a futile ask.
“Yep,” Jay says, popping the P, “You’re stuck with me for the rest of forever. I’m not giving you a single second of peace until the day I die.” He means it too. He doesn’t think he’ll let Cole out of his sight again for a good long while. You never know when someone will just disappear on you. It happens more often than you would think.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Cole replies, tone so fond and sweet that Jay can’t decide if he wants to cry all over again, or smile so wide it hurts his cheeks. He settles on the latter, a fuzzy warmth taking root in his chest and spreading all the way to his toes.
“Me neither.”