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"Careful there, Jess." Though he speaks with a tilted smile, no amount of pleasantry can mask the misery that bleeds from Cole's tone. "Or I'll start to think you're more upset about this than I am."
Jesse swallows a hiccup as he shoots Cole a look from across the room, not appreciating the stab at levity when prickling glitter trails down his cheeks the same way his tears do. He's been sobbing uncontrollably ever since the news was less-than-delicately dropped on him. Only now, being alone with Cole in the aftershock of the chaos, forced to face this new reality, does Jesse finally start to come to grips with it all.
But, a surprise of the cruelest flavor makes it all the harder to swallow.
And it's not that Cole hasn't had his own share of wallowing over the situation either—but his crying was just louder, hollow, hauntingly tormented, and dry. Only a mere echo of what he was once capable of.
Now, any tears he could've shed—were it still possible—would have killed him in more ways than one.
Cole stares at his boyfriend and yearns, wanting nothing more than to thread his fingers through Jesse's stupidly soft hair and soothe him until the pain of the situation becomes numb enough to bear. He wants to hold other boy tight and let their arms mingle with one another. Wants to hold his gentle face, wants to press kisses to his cheeks, wants to lean against him as they share headphones over a handpicked playlist, wants just to touch him one more time; to keep with him the memory of something he hadn't realized was so fragile.
And he knows from the look at the edge of Jesse's gaze that he longs for the same thing too.
Cole swallows around the lump in his throat. Of course, that would be a sensation he'd get to keep—not anything he'd actually want.
"It...it might not be forever. I'm not dead, just...cursed. We could find a way to break it somehow," Cole tries again, attempting to be positive for the both of them. Although 'cursed' and 'dead' are pretty much synonyms to him at this point. Jesse doesn't need to know that though. "And Master Wu said there's...ways I can make this work for me, y'know? And even if I am cursed like this forever...we know it's possible to at least become corporeal enough to be somewhat normal, thanks to Harleigh. Maybe one day, we won't even notice the difference!"
Jesse swipes a sleeve across his eyes, gazing at Cole but also through him at the same time. His stomach churns at how Cole seems to disappear even in his vision—and keeps slipping through his fingers—but he stamps his roiling feelings down. He's...just going to have to get used to this. Baby steps.
"...on that note, I've been wondering...What...um, what does it...feel like? To...be a ghost?" Jesse asks in a desperate bid to understand, and in lieu of anything else to say, though his voice is raw from screaming in horror for days on end. Cole wilts with every forced out word. "Is that...okay to ask?"
Cole curls his fists against the blanket of the bed he sits upon; the fabric remains undisturbed beneath him. The overwhelming sensation of nothing when there should be something wracks through him and steals away a breath he doesn't have.
He doesn't think there's anything that could describe the sheer ache that notion leaves him with.
"...not everything feels like something else." Cole withers when glitter trickles from the corners of Jesse's eyes again. But Jesse remains patiently listening. "...but, if I had to say...it's...mostly like...being in a fog."
Jesse's head tilts curiously. "A...fog...?"
"...Yeah." Cole gnaws his lip as he strings his thoughts together. "Like I'm mostly here, but not really. Like I can see something in the distance thought a mist, but not a clear picture. Like sometimes, people speak at me, and their voices are garbled like I'm underwater. And every motion I make is like trying to push through a cloud...and the feel of the cloud is featherlight, barely there, brushing against my hands, just a...wisp. But then I know in my heart—or what remains of it—that there should be...something more."
Cole lifts a translucent hand that yields neither the warmth nor strength he's become accustomed to. There's some sensation; something akin to a dulled static. But it's a far cry to the subtle earth-made vibrations he could once pick up on instinct.
The Element of Earth still thrums just beneath his "skin"—no curse could ever take that away from him. The earth is always shifting, even in the subtlest of ways, and he's still in sync with that much. In the slow erosion of a cliff at the seaside, in the tumbling of the sands of a beach, in the crumbling of a foundation when it finally gives way, in the spinning of the world as time marches on, in the throes of an aftershock of a earthquake...all of that he can still sense with his soul.
And yet, when it comes to his powers, the disconnect is immense—he'd describe it like a chasm suddenly cleaving his elemental connection, but even that would still yield contact with the Earth. No, this is more like the ground is slipping away from him—he's falling in reverse, going upwards, drifting farther and farther away, with nothing to tether him down—nothing to keep him grounded—
His body is no longer solid. There is no longer a foundation for Earth to be supported by.
He's never felt less attuned.
"And, overall..." Cole wraps up his thoughts, pulling his knees up to his chest. He shakes, longing for something he can anchor onto other than himself. "Everything feels...lacking. And I feel...very empty."
Pulling out of his puddle of self-pity, Cole chances a glance at Jesse. Everything in him seizes up upon witnessing Jesse openly crying again. It's not as broken and utterly devastated as before. Now, though...he cries not for what's been lost, but what he can no longer have.
"I just wanna hold your hand and comfort you so bad," Jesse confesses in a weep. "And I can't."
"...heh, yeah. Master knows I could use it right about now," Cole agrees. Even his voice is inconsolably trembling now. His heart clenches. "And I'm also dying to kiss you senseless, but ha, that's even less of a no-go. Cuz, y'know—"
It's an attempt at a joke—albeit a very true joke—that only sends Jesse deeper into a sobbing fit. And Cole can do nothing but watch it happen—watch as he's the cause for Jesse's continued turmoil. He can't even lend a shoulder for him to cry on, for there technically is no shoulder to offer, and Jesse's tears would prove to be lethal anyway.
He may not be able to feel much, but he certainly can feel how much pain he's causing for Jesse. He...can't do this to Jesse. He can't keep doing this to Jesse. He can't burden him like this, as much as he craves Jesse's comfort otherwise.
"Why do these things keep happening to you?! Why can't you—we—be blissfully happy for two seconds?!" Jesse trades his tears for a fit of protesting frustration. Cole lets out a weary, humorless chuckle in response.
"Hey, I told you I was hard to love. Just...maybe not this hard." Cole fights for it, but he can't keep the plastered smile on his face. Horror flashes across Jesse's; Cole's voice starts to crack. "But maybe...I mean–you deserve...better than a ghost, y'know. Better than a wisp of a person, in any case...not that I was all that great even before 'dying', ahahaaa...still can't believe you would've wanted me, heh..."
Jesse's blood runs cold. "Cole. Cole. C-Cole, no don't do that—"
Cole presses on. "But if this, y'know...changes anything between us—changes how you feel about me, then I...I-I would understand if you...it would be okay if...if y-you wanted to lea—"
Jesse jumps to his feet and claps, punctuated by a sound that fills the room and drives away the rest of Cole's tirade. Jesse's expression is pinched as he draws a ruby red rose from his sleeve, tilting it gingerly in Cole's direction.
"And I told you, I'll love you regardless." It's the most resolute Jesse's sounded in days. Cole can feel the imitation of his heart skipping a beat. "So, come what may...I'm going to be here for you. I'm going to be at your side, if you'll have me. Unfortunately, you can't get rid of me so easily, darling. Not even death itself could drive me away from you!"
"...jeeeeeez, so dramatic." A lightness flows through Cole and he eagerly chases the high of it. Jesse smirks in spite of himself. "But, it is one of your many adoring qualities."
Scoffing, Jesse presses a kiss to one of the petals of the rose. He spins it twice between his fingers, the blessed petal now facing towards Cole.
"It's going to...take some time to adjust to this. But we'll work together on it, just like with everything else. You're right, and we will figure something out. This...doesn't have to be the end of the world."
Cole leans forward now, matching his lips to the petal presented to him. He may not be able to feel the delicacy of the flower, but Jesse's sentiment he receives in full force.
"I couldn't agree more, sweetheart."
And, just maybe, Cole doesn't feel quite as empty as he thought.