I own nothing but the story.
Summary: They were always little actions, ones that Jay didn't notice, or didn't think about until a particular night when Cole bristles and it all falls into place.
The amount of people that Jay could call his best friend could be counted on one hand.
Not even that; the amount of people he called his best friend could be counted on one finger, because there was only one person he could call his best friend.
Jay loved his other friends; they were near and dear to him, but only one could he give the title of 'best friend.' It was a heavy title, one that carried the weight of mountains, which was why it was a good thing that Cole had super strength.
"Would'j'a like some more jambalaya, dear?" Edna's smile was wide and bright as she held out her sizzling skillet.
Best friends got the honor—no, the privilege—of eating dinner every week at his parents' home. At his home.
Cole had a special job as a best friend. Jay could show Cole parts of himself he hid from the entire world: his insecurities; his dreams; his regrets. He loved it; he loved having someone to talk to, someone to mess with, someone to return the favor to.
"I can't say no to more food, especially yours," Cole grinned and Edna laughed, tutting at the compliment.
Though the fact that Cole loved food was known by anyone who gave the ninja even a passing glance, Jay alone knew why his friend loved food.
In short, it was the experience of it.
Cole certainly ate just to eat, but his love of food stemmed from more than just nourishment. Jay knew that Cole would only eat something as disgusting as a deep fried cookie topped with ice cream if he had friends there to either chide or egg him on. Jay knew that Cole only ever brought home a cake if he had someone to polish it off with. He also knew that Cole loved to share his meals, to be able to sit with people he loved and eat with them.
As best friends, they knew and noticed things about each other that no one else would, and it was a wonderful relationship to have. So Jay brought Cole along on his weekly visit to his parents for a home cooked meal that they all would enjoy.
This tradition had started as an accident. What was supposed to be a night out at the arcade ended up with them getting thrown out by the collars after they broke the Ski-Ball machine. Their plans for stuffing themselves sick with pizza went awry, and they were left to contact Jay's parents for supper. They wouldn't mind him coming over for a surprise visit. They most definitely would enjoy having Cole over as well; never when he was younger had anybody come into their little shack of a trailer to eat.
But Cole was different; Cole was his best friend.
One night became multiple nights, for Ed and Edna loved seeing their son more than once in a while, and they loved getting the chance to embarrass him in front of his friend. Not that he minded, after a while. Jay realized that his parents never got the chance to share time with one of his peers when he was small. Growing up, he hadn't a neighbourhood filled with other children to play with. Now that he had the ninja, now that he had a best friend, he and his parents could partake in social interactions that they'd been denied for so many years. Yes, Ed and Edna loved having Cole over. They loved him as if he were another member of their small family, and Jay was okay with that.
"You might want to watch yourself," he said as they were leaving one evening, "I think my parents love you more than they do me."
There was a problem, however.
It wasn't something Jay knew as a problem, more as something his mind was subconsciously aware of whenever these weekly visits would occur. Nothing he thought about, but something he knew was there. He didn't know what it was.
Cole had responded to his joke with a laugh that was higher than what Jay knew was real, saying in a tone too hard, "Don't say that."
Best friends knew each other well enough to know when something was wrong with the other.
Edna offered some more jambalaya, which Cole gladly accepted. He stiffened when she began to dish it onto his plate.
"I can do that," he said, his smile strained, "Thank you, though."
Edna appeared put out for a moment, but the visage disappeared the moment Jay noticed it. She offered Cole the wooden spoon, and he dished the helping himself.
Jay furrowed his brow.
There was a problem with these weekly visits. Or rather, there was a problem with Cole. It was little things that Jay saw, but didn't connect to anything; he saved the happenings into the back of his thoughts for later, where he could properly put the puzzle pieces together.
Little things, they were: a hesitance in Cole's demeanor whenever Jay said it was time to go; widened eyes whenever Edna fussed over him in any way; a step to the side when she tried snagging him in the hug she always gave Jay on the way out the door. Sometimes it was slightly bigger things, things that Jay wouldn't normally think much of, if he wasn't Cole's best friend.
Cole loved to cook. As bad as he was, it was one of his favorite pastimes. Whenever Edna asked if Cole would like to help around in the kitchen, he would refuse, choosing instead to help Ed and Jay in the shed. Cole didn't say he hated doing this in favor of cooking, but Jay noticed that he didn't appear to have as much fun as he would doing anything else.
He was aware that there was a problem, even if he didn't know what it was. It was a small but constant thing, a pin in his hip that wouldn't leave. He wondered, for a long time, what this problem could be.
Tonight, realization finally dawned on him.
Cole stepped aside as usual when Ed and Edna hugged Jay out the door, but then Edna did something unexpected. Before Cole could escape, she turned and held out her arms, pulling Cole into a tight hug.
The stiffness that yanked his best friend taut didn't go unnoticed as Cole bristled at Edna's touch. Jay's eyes widened at the action, more so when the barest trace of a grimace crossed Cole's face. The look of confused sadness on Edna's didn't go unnoticed either as she pulled away, letting Cole go free.
Smiles were strained on all sides as they left for that evening.
And Jay finally understood.
Cole was wired; his jaw set and shoulders tense as he walked ahead of Jay and out of the junkyard. Jay let him go, watching him walk with a fierce stare.
The title of 'best friend' carried a heavy weight. One of the many obligations that it entailed was 'honesty,' and Cole had failed to uphold that. Something was wrong with his friend; something was wrong with the situation, and Cole hadn't come forward. Needless to say, Jay was ticked.
"Cole," he called.
His tone must have sent a warning, for Cole came to an abrupt stop, dropping his head to the earth before pulling it back and sighing, "Yeah?"
Jay stilled too, hoping that Cole would be the one to fill the distance that had grown between them. "What's your problem?" the question came off sharper than he intended, but Jay was angry. Fuming.
Dirt scraped beneath Cole's boots as he turned, "What?"
"You know what," Jay took a step forward, "You know exactly what. That stint you pulled at dinner? What was that?"
He could just barely see Cole bite his lip in the shadows shrouding his face. "That...that was nothing."
"Poppycock!"
"I'm sorry?"
Jay marched another few steps forward, "That wasn't nothing! Why wouldn't you let my mom hug you? Why wouldn't you let her dish you a plate of food?"
Cole stood as still as stone, watching Jay rage at him. "I...I just don't like being hugged, is all."
"Ha!" Jay threw out his hands, his insides boiling as he thought of all those little moments he saw in the past, "You're lying. I know what's going on here!" He was putting those pieces together, but at the same time he felt as though he was falling apart. "You don't like my mom."
Cole's brow flew up in surprise. "What?"
"You don't!" said Jay, "You don't like her!" The realization hurt more than he expected it to. Cole didn't like his mother, his brain procured, and suddenly all that he'd noticed made sense. "You won't let her touch you, you won't help her out with the cooking, which I know you love to do!"
Cole released what sounded like a low groan, the hand that wasn't in his jacket pocket running through his hair. Jay talked on.
"You always seem upset when I tell you it's time to come here, and you refuse to let her do things for you! Things she does because she happens to like you!"
"Jay—"
"Why?!" Jay bit, trying to swallow the lump that appeared in the back of his throat, "What's wrong with her? What's so wrong with my mom that makes you hate her? All she ever did was like you!"
Friends were supposed to talk to each other, discuss important subjects that mattered to each of them, like whether or not they liked each other. If Cole didn't like his mother, then how much did he really like Jay?
"That's not what this is," said Cole, sounding ridiculously calm. Jay wished that his friend was as angry as he was. A subject this sensitive required yelling, and lots of it.
"Then what is it?" said Jay, "Don't think I haven't noticed the way you've been acting. I know you enough to know when something's bothering you. I saw the way you looked when she gave you a hug."
"That's..." Cole put a hand to his face, pinching his nose. Then he let out a bitter growl, saying, "I should have known you would have picked something up."
He paused there, which was a terrible place to pause, because Jay felt all the air inside of him deplete when Cole didn't immediately deny his claims. "Well," he said, a shake in his voice he couldn't suppress, "What have I picked up? What about my mother is so awful that you want nothing to do with her?"
"I don't hate her, Jay."
"What is it!?" he took one last step forward, "Answer me! What is all this?"
"She just—" Cole inhaled, as though he were bracing himself for a shot, "Sometimes I get uncomfortable around her, alright?"
Jay felt like a book had been slammed across his face; the sting he felt may have been phantom, but it hurt just the same. "Why?"
Cole kicked at the dirt, pushed it around with his foot. "Look—I don't want to talk about this now—"
"Well, you're going to have to," said Jay, "Unless you want to eat a knuckle sandwich. What's wrong with my mom?"
"Nothing, she's perfect. A wonderful person, a wonderful mother."
Now Jay was more than angry. He was confused. "So what's your problem?"
"It's not with her, I swear," Cole held out his hands, "It's with me. I'm the one with the problem."
Jay blinked. "I already knew that. I need you to tell me what it is," he paused, "That's what best friends do."
Cole stared at the ground a while longer, and for once, Jay let the silence take over, waiting until Cole had the nerve to respond.
When he did, Jay wasn't ready for it.
"I love your mother," Cole began, "I really do, Jay, and I'm sorry I made you think otherwise. It's just that—the reason I get—" he suddenly growled and turned a glare towards the sky, as if the words he was looking for lay among the taffeta-tinged clouds. "Look, Jay, sometimes your mom—"
Jay leaned forward, curious and worried all at once.
"Sometimes..." Cole finally looked into his eyes, emotion shining bright from deep chocolate irises, "Sometimes she reminds me of—of my own—"
He stopped, and Jay finally got it. For the second time that evening, realization dawned on him, more so than it had before, and now he had the urge to shove his foot down his throat.
"Oh," he said. A dumb statement it was, but it was all he could say.
Cole offered him a thin lipped smile. "Sorry."
"No," Jay held up a hand, "Don't you be sorry. I'm the one who—" he felt like an idiot. "Crap."
Cole let out a huff. "I should have told you."
"I could've helped you."
"I know," said Cole, "I don't blame you for being mad. I didn't mean to make you think I hated your mom. It's just that—it's been so long since I've had someone like her in my life, and I don't know how to handle it, sometimes."
"I see," Jay studied the pebbles dotting the mottled earth, "I wish you'd told me. I could have talked to Mom." Boy, he'd made an ass of himself.
"There's not much you could have done."
"I could explain why you don't want her to mo—to fuss over you."
"But I do!" Cole walked next to him, wearing a smile that didn't match his eyes, "I want to give her hugs and help her make dinner. I just—I can't do it yet."
Jay nodded. "I understand."
"Hey," Cole cuffed him on the shoulder, "Your mother is the best. I'll tell her that next week. So she knows."
"I'll tell her too," said Jay, looking up, "about you. How you feel. So she can understand."
Cole gave a slight frown, "She won't be mad, will she?"
"Of course not!" said Jay, "She's understanding. She might be sad she can't shower you with hugs, but she'll give you respect. Then when you're ready, you can choose to let her love you. Does that sound good?"
Cole smiled for real this time, "I'd appreciate that."
Jay returned the expression. "I'm sorry I got mad at you."
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you how I felt."
"That would have made things easier," Jay admitted, trying still to shake away the heat in his face, "but it's not always easy."
Cole shook his head.
"But I am glad you told me. Now I can help you out."
Because that is what best friends do for each other.
"Thank you," Cole put an arm around his shoulder, and together they returned home.
End.
It's been 84 years...
Haha, apologies for not updating this sooner. I'm hoping to pick it back up, but things have gotten busy. Thank you for taking the time to read it!
