#jknsfdvhjkdlfbvlnerakfsn I am so sorry for taking so long to post this

[rainbow-flavoured-skittles]

Two Years, Five Months, and Three Days

I have arrived with the next part of the bruise childhood friends au, only *checks notes* two months late. This is the last part before the grand finale where Jay and Cole will get together. It’s set just after the ending of 'Cause daddy doesn't love me, mommy is a god'. Warning for swearing, cross posted on ao3.

~

“This is the Monastery?” Jay asked. He shifted his duffel bag to the other shoulder and looked over at Wu, who nodded. 

“It is the Monastery of Spinjitsu. This is where you will train,” he said.

“It’s so… big,” Jay said. How could such a large building be hiding up in the mountains, unnoticed by anyone? It seemed impossible, despite the evidence standing right in front of him.

“It was designed to house multiple generations of people at a time. There were nearly twenty living together at one point.”

“And now?”

Wu hummed. “Three, including you and me.”

“Sensei, there’s only two of us.”

“Three. I have another student. He’s about your age, actually,” Wu said. 

“Another student? You didn’t mention that.”

“I didn’t? Well, no time like the present to meet him, then.” Wu pushed the doors open and entered, Jay following closely. 

The Monastery was beautiful, Jay thought. Everything about it was bright and shiny. It didn’t seem very much like a home, though. While intricate and very complex, it was cold and impersonal as well. For something meant to house multiple families, it didn’t look lived in. 

“So, where’s this other student?” Jay asked. 

“Ah, he’s around here somewhere. Probably in his room. You’ll come across him eventually.”

“Okay.”

Wu looked at Jay critically. “You must be tired from your journey,” he said. “Take any one of the empty rooms and rest. You can start training some other day.”

Jay was too tired to argue. Any excitement at being able to be a real life superhero had drained out hours ago, replaced with a bone-deep exhaustion. He took the first room on the left, thankful when it wasn’t occupied, and threw his bags on the floor. He’d unpack tomorrow, probably. And if not then, then definitely by the end of the week. 

The room was rather plain. Off-white painted walls, a wooden door and window frame, simple furniture and bed. It gave the impression of a model room in some house showing. 

Jay lay down on the bed, arms folded over his stomach. He should explore this place, figure out the layout. He’d need to know where the bathroom was, at the very least. But he also didn’t want to get up, not when he’d just gotten comfortable. Ugh. Sighing, Jay peeled himself off the floor and went down the hall, opening and closing doors as he passed.

On the fifth door he opened, he found what must have been the other student’s room. The walls were an eggshell white, much like Jay’s, but it was decorated. He could see a calendar, among other things, lining the walls. The bed was neatly made with a black comforter and pillows.

Jay closed the door. It wasn’t polite to be snooping in some stranger’s room, especially if said stranger was going to be his roommate-slash-vigilante-partner. First impressions had to be good, after all. He continued down the hall to find that it split into two. This entire building was practically a maze. And it seemed to be bigger on the inside. How did that even work?

“Ehhh, screw it,” Jay sighed. He picked the hall on the right, because ‘the right is always right,’ or something like that, and promptly got lost. 

“This place is a freaking maze,” he groaned. “I’m gonna get lost and die from dehydration and hunger.”

“It’s not nearly that bad,” a voice said quietly. Jay spun around, nearly knocking the newcomer in the stomach, and locked eyes with a ghost. 

Well, not a literal ghost, but close enough, for Cole Hence-Brookstone himself was standing in front of him. The same Cole who’d mysteriously disappeared two years ago. The same Cole who Jay had presumed dead.

Jay choked. “Cole?” His voice had an unfortunate resemblance to a cat coughing up a hairball.

Cole looked just as shocked as Jay felt. “Jay? What are you doing here? How are you here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Jay growled. He hadn’t seen Cole in years — not since they were eleven, back when Cole got sent to boarding school. They hadn’t kept contact, for whatever reason, and the last Jay had heard from him was a short letter. It had come out of nowhere, after nearly a year of radio silence, in which Cole’d said he was ‘leaving’ and didn’t know if he’d be back. 

“Sensei Wu is training me,” Cole lifted his chin. “I’m guessing you’re his new student.”

“Got it in one,” Jay said. He glared at Cole a little more, as if doing that would make him explain the past few years.

“Look, Jay, I know that our last conversation was awkward, but—“

“Just shut up. I don’t want to hear it,” Jay shook his head. “You left, Cole. Just a shitty letter and nothing else. What is there to talk about?”

Cole looked down at the floor and picked at his nails. Vaguely, Jay could remember Cole having that habit even when they were kids. 

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Cole said quietly. 

“Mission failed, then. A big fat zero-out-of-ten.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Whatever,” Jay said.

Cole nodded. He took a step past Jay. “See you during training then, or something.”

“Uh huh.”

“Okay,” Cole left, leaving Jay standing alone in the blank hallway. 

~

Cole had fucked up. He’d fucked up so badly that he could never recover. How could Jay of all people be in the Monastery, with him, training to fight the forces of darkness? The universe was playing a cosmic joke on him. 

Cole had missed Jay, of course he had. Jay was his first and only friend. He’d thought he was doing the right thing when he sent that letter to Jay, saying sorry for everything. He had never been a good friend to Jay, and he’d thought that Jay would be better off without him.

He probably had been, really. 

But now they had no choice but to work together. Sensei Wu had explained that himself, said that he couldn’t just choose just anyone to be trained; it had to be specific people with the potential. And Jay must have the potential, since he was here in this building, his room only three doors down from Cole’s.

Cole hit the punching bag a little harder, nearly snapping the chain off. In any other case, he’d be sulking in his room, but Wu had drilled into his head that training was too important to miss. So he was standing in the training room, hoping to the First Master that Jay didn’t come in. 

That was unlikely, though, Cole mused. They’d both avoided each other like the plague for the past two weeks. Wu hadn’t picked up on the awkwardness between them, at least not yet, but it was only a matter of time. Then he’d force them to work out their problems and be civil. The only times Cole even saw Jay was at dinner, during which they never talked.

He wished they would talk, though. It was suffocating to have his former best friend right there and not be getting along. Cole deserved it, he supposed, but he missed when they were kids. When they’d just talk and play games together, not a care in the world.

Cole hit the punching bag again. His knuckles were starting to hurt, sore and bleeding. Little droplets of red ran down his fingers. He must have been punching harder than he’d thought.

Wu would kill him if he didn’t take care of his injuries. Cole made his way to the sink, running his hands under the water until it ran clear. Then he put ointment on the wounds.

His hands were still visibly hurt. He could hear his mom chiding him, a voice in his head telling him to take better care of himself. “You need to be careful, Pumpkin,” she used to say. “I won’t always be around to help you.”

And she hadn’t, because Mom had died when Cole was just barely eleven. It still hurt to think of. Cole blinked back the tears — he refused to cry. Crying was something that got you beaten up and made fun of.

A cough and the sound of someone clearing their throat, and then a freckled face with reddish hair was in his vision, patting Cole on the shoulder. 

“You okay, Cole?” Jay asked awkwardly. He was taller, now, Cole thought. Probably a good few inches taller than Cole.

“I— yeah,” Cole said. 

“Um, okay, then,” Jay mumbled. He looked down at his feet. “See you at dinner.”

“Yeah,” Cole nodded. He watched Jay exit, then turned back to the mirror. His eyes weren’t too red and puffy, thankfully. Small mercies. 

Why had Jay even bothered talking to Cole? He’d made it pretty clear that they weren’t friends. Did it mean he didn’t hate Cole? Was he trying to say that he didn’t quite forgive Cole, but was willing to be civil? Or maybe it was just because anyone would have done that, made sure another person was okay.

Why did people have to be so complicated? Stupid emotions and relationships. It must be the last option, Cole decided. They weren’t friends, no, but maybe they were acquaintances. He could work with that. Just two people who happened to be coworkers. That was more than acceptable.

~

Jay buried his face in his pillow and wondered if the world would make sense after banging his head on the headboard a few more times. It didn’t. 

Jason Edward Gordon, you are the most socially awkward person on this side of Ninjago, he told himself. “You okay?” He’d asked Cole. Who even said that? It was very clear Cole had not been okay. 

Jay groaned and tried to organise his thoughts. First thought, he was terrible at comforting people. He’d just left without even giving Cole a tissue. Second thought, he apparently did not hate Cole, no matter how much he wanted to. Third thought, his life was a mess and he was officially an idiot.

Hmmm. Not very organised at all. Jay hated emotions.

Should he go talk to Cole? He probably should. But the awkwardness alone would kill him. Jay resisted the urge to scream and just never come out of his room again.

Jay buried his face in the pillows again.

~

Dinner was… awkward, to say the least. Jay and Cole sat on opposite sides of the table and avoided talking. Wu served rice and some kind of fish, miraculously oblivious to the tension in the air.

“You two should start sparring tomorrow,” Wu said cheerfully. “I’m sure that Cole can teach you, Jay.”

“I— yeah,” Cole muttered. “Sure.”

“Sounds great,” Jay mumbled.

“I have to go collect the next member of your team soon, so you’re going to be alone for the next week or so. Dark forces are rising and we need as much help as we can get,” Wu continued.

“But Jay’s barely even started proper training,” Cole said.

“You can teach him, as I said earlier. You’re more than capable.”

“Mhm.”

“Are you sure I can’t learn from you, Sensei?” Jay laughed, perhaps a bit maniacally. He must have sounded like a crazy person.

“You will. Once I return with your teammate.”

“Ah.”

“There’s food in the freezer. Only Jay is allowed to reheat it.”

Cole made a face. “Why can’t I?”

“Because you set water on fire and I don’t want the Monastery burning down.”

Cole went back to his food, muttering about how he was perfectly able to cook. Jay doubted that, memories of burnt cookies and undercooked chicken in his mind.

“I’ll be going by tomorrow morning. Don’t leave the Monastery under any conditions,” Wu stood. “I have to rest for the night. You boys finish dinner on your own.”

“Yes, Sensei.”

Cole got up immediately after Wu left, collecting his plates and heading for the sink. He didn’t look at Jay, just washed the dishes and left. So Jay ended up sitting alone while he finished his dinner, poking at the vegetables and wondering why Sensei didn’t believe in seasoning. And also wondering how he was going to get through the next week, all alone with Cole.

There was no way he was going to survive the week.

~

Cole got up at exactly six in the morning, brushed his teeth, and made himself cereal for breakfast. Then he went to the training grounds and went through the obstacle course again.

Jay didn’t pull himself out of bed until nine — Sensei would have killed him for that. Cole chose not to say anything, though, just watched him go through the forms Wu had taught. 

Your arms are too stiff,” Cole said quietly. He gestured to Jay’s position. “You need to relax a bit more.”

“Oh, yeah. Okay,” Jay flushed.

“That’s better,” Cole nodded. “You’re, um, doing good.”

“Thanks.”

Cole stood near Jay fur a few more minutes, making sure that he was doing the exercises properly, until Jay coughed and cleared his throat. “You can go do your own thing. I’m doing fine on my own.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” Cole mumbled. Was he blushing? He was probably blushing.

“Thanks, though.”

Cole went back to the obstacle course. He’d talk to Jay later, hopefully.

~

Lunch was a silent affair, both Cole and Jay picking at last night’s leftovers. They didn’t bother talking — Jay went to the microwave and heated the food up, then they ate. Cole was just thankful that Jay wasn’t glaring at him anymore. Awkward silence was much better than anger.

“Wonder when Sensei will be back?” Cole asked, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Soon, hopefully. I don’t think we could survive without him.”

“Yeah, probably not. I mean, I still can’t cook. He won’t even let me in the kitchen!”

Jay actually laughed at that. “I can’t either! The housekeeper wouldn’t let me!”

“Not even to make like, microwave soup or something?”

“Bold of you to assume we had microwave meals. Dad — Cliff is still the crunchy all-natural granola mom he’s always been.”

“Can’t be worse than cafeteria food,” Cole joked. He didn’t mention Jay calling his father by his first name. They’d always had a complicated relationship. 

“I don’t know, I’d rather have chicken nuggets than quinoa and plain lettuce.”

“Yeah, quinoa is pretty gross.”

“No mention on the plain lettuce?”

“Salads exist, Jay.”

“But— but those have like, dressing and croutons and stuff!”

“You’ve seen what they serve at certain restaurants,” Cole said.

Jay shuddered at the memory. “We agreed to never speak of that.”

“We did, didn’t we.”

The mood returned to the stifling awkwardness and discomfort that it had earlier. Cole stared down at his food and sighed. Jay shuffled and picked at his rice. Neither of them looked at each other. 

“I’m sorry for ignoring you, before? I don’t really know why I did that,” Jay mumbled.

“I should be saying sorry, Jay,” Cole said. “I left you. Just sent a letter and pretended like you didn’t exist.”

“Yeah, but I should have talked to you. Reached out myself, instead of waiting.”

“I did want to, you know. Keep being friends. I just figured you’d be better off with someone else,” Cole admitted. “That’s not much of an excuse, though.”

“You were my first and only friend. I wouldn’t have wanted someone else.”

“I ignored you, and after that I thought there was no way of making up. So I left and hoped that that would solve my problems.”

“You just needed to ask to talk again,” Jay said. “I was never angry in the first place.”

“You weren’t?”

“No. I told you that last time we saw each other, before the whole ninja gig.”

“Maybe I just don’t listen well.”

“You idiot,” Jay smacked Cole on the hand.

“First Master, when did we end up being so awkward around each other? We used to be so close,” Cole laughed bitterly.

“Probably when your dad shipped you off to the other side of the continent,” Jay said dryly.

Cole scoffed. “Pretty sure it was earlier than that.”

“Well, somewhere around that time.”

“You’re not mad, anymore?”

“Nah. If I was mad, I’d be screaming and flipping the table.”

“It’s solid wood. Doubtful that it could even be shifted, much less flipped.”

“I still think I could,” Jay joked. “Just one swift kick and it goes toppling over.”

Cole laughed. “Other way around, Jay.”

“The table’s going to kick me?”

“You know what I meant.”

“I want to spar,” Jay declared. He hopped off the chair and dragged Cole towards the door. “You’re going to teach me all the cool ninja moves you’ve been learning.”

“I could beat you within ten seconds.”

“Then prove it, rocks-for-brains,” Jay taunted. “Loser has to wash the dishes.”

“You’re going to smell like dish soap for days.”

“Perhaps.”

“Then come on!” They walked out the doors to the training yard, hand in hand.

~

“Wu totally left early so that we’d make up, didn’t he.”

“Oh, yeah. Absolutely.”