CHAPTER ONE- Moving On and Other Impossibilities
AFTER
Jay hated living in the after.
After the best moments of his life. After love. After Cole.
Reality was painfully surreal. Jay felt like he was trapped in a nightmare. It had been a month, yet it was still so easy to believe he would, at any moment, wake up. Wake up to Cole's lips. To bubbles of overflowing happiness. To the tug of a smile upon his lips.
Wake up, freckles. Jay could hear Cole's voice. It's getting late.
Jay could imagine opening his eyes. A bit reluctantly. A bit eagerly.
Cole's smile would be there, just for him. Those comforting eyes that always held a mischievous twinkle. An expression that held all the love in the world.
For a moment, Jay melted into his daydream. For a moment, there was no after.
Then, his cell phone rang.
He blinked himself back into reality. Back into the painful void his life had become. Jay had never noticed how much effort it took to simply be. Every breath felt like a struggle.
"Hello?" Jay had also never noticed how much effort it took to talk. It didn't help that his throat was beyond dry. When was the last time he'd had anything to drink?
Weren't you going to come over today? I've been waiting since 2! Nya's voice was somehow both gentle and firm. Leave it to her to find the perfect mix. Miss I-have-everything-together.
Jay dug his nails onto his palms. No. He couldn't be bitter. Not at her. Nya was only trying to help. Nya was only doing her best. Jay was an ungrateful brat that probably deserved the heartbreak. "I missed the bus."
I could pick you up.
Jay almost scoffed. Sorry Nya, he thought. I meant to say I missed the bus on purpose. "That's okay. We can just hang out some other time."
I was hoping we could go see Cole's dad. He's been clearing out Cole's stuff. He has some things you might want.
Yeah. Because what Jay needed was physical reminders of his dead boyfriend.
Even thinking the word made Jay's mind falter. Dead. Dead. Tears blurred his vision. The breath rushed from his lungs. It was as if he were learning the news all over again. Jay would never be able to forget the voice of Cole's father, cracked in all the wrong places, grief accenting each syllable with a cruel stab.
Jay, I don't- I don't really know how to say this. The words had been a punch in the gut. Jay had known, even without hearing Cole's dad say it. He'd wanted to toss the phone away. Wanted to smash it to pieces. Anything to keep himself from hearing the words.
Jay? You still there? Nya. Nya. The present. The After. We don't have to see Cole's dad. I could just cover over. Please?
Jay was too tired to argue. "Okay. Sounds great. We can both sit in silence and wonder about what the point of living even really is."
Jay . . . Nya sighed. Annoyed. Frustrated. Tired of him. Tired of holding him up. I'll be there in ten.
"I'll be here." Jay said, before hanging up.
He stared at the phone. Cole was still his wallpaper. Jay should probably change that. It would be the healthy thing to do. Wouldn't it?
It might also be a good idea to delete their messages. So he would no longer be tempted to glance back at them, to make himself feel worse. Cole's final words to him only made him spiral. And it was always hard to come back.
Let's run away together. Out of the city. Forever!
The message was marked as Sunday, 2:57 A.M.
Jay had been asleep. By the time he'd replied (Haha . . . okay?) it was already too late. It was already After.
Would anything have changed, if Jay had been awake? If he'd answered on time? If he'd called? Probably. Definitely.
Jay slipped into some clothes. They were dirty, but they at least allowed him to look somewhat presentable. He didn't they think they smelled too bad.
To top it off, he crawled into Cole's hoodie. It was three sizes too big, as Cole's frame had been considerably larger when compared to Jay's own.
Jay took a slow whiff of the fabric, as he fell back onto his couch.
You need to start bringing your own jacket, freckles. Jay heard Cole's voice, felt his arms wrapped tight around him, to keep him warm in a cold day. I'm going to get sick one of these days. Then what?
Then I'll make you all better, Jay would probably reply with a quick, playful kiss.
Except Jay couldn't make it all better. Cole was gone, and he was not coming back. Jay could scream and cry and tear himself apart all he wanted. But death . . . was death. Death was final.
"What the hell were you doing, Cole?" Jay hissed, draping one arm over his eyes. He needed to get up. He needed to hide all evidence of his seemingly permanent breakdown from Nya's eyes. But Jay couldn't.
"Didn't you think I needed you? Because I do. I really do, I always will. I hate you, you know? Leaving me like this. Was it easy? Quick? Bang! Bang! No more Cole."
It had been on the news. Jay didn't know why he'd watched. Morbid curiosity? The desire to make something that already hurt, hurt more? For punishment?
In the lively darkness of Ninjago City's streets, tragedy occurred. The newsperson's voice sounded empty. Neutrally detached. Jay could relate. At approximately 4 in the morning last night, a young man was shot and killed in what seems to be a random assault.
As far as we know, nothing of value was taken. Here, the woman had paused, pushing a sliver of her hair back behind her ear. Although this seems to be an isolated incident, authorities advise citizens on the west side of Ninjago City to take extra precautions when traveling at night.
And that had been it. Cole had died. His whole world, ended. It had taken bits and pieces from Jay's world too. And it had all somehow been reduced to a 3 minute long news report. 2 minutes and 48 seconds, if you didn't round up.
It felt wrong. Everything felt wrong.
Died of a broken heart. You heard that phrase all the time, in stories, in poems, in songs. Jay had always thought it to be overly dramatic. And now, well, now he was well on his way to join the statistics.
Things suck, but you keep going, you know? Jay had said once, leaning over Cole's shoulder to peek at the novel he was reading. Your body isn't going to just shut down because things are sad. It's a body. It doesn't have feelings.
I'm pretty sure there's some sort of science behind the statement. Cole had replied, shutting the book. His fingers remained between the pages. It was rare to see him without words in hand. I mean, like the power of suggestion, right? The mind can sometimes heal the body without medicine if it believes it's got medicine. Therefore, the mind can destroy the body too.
You're just a nerd. An overly romantic book nerd.
And you're a boring science fanboy. With your little tools, and your little hands.
There was a knock on Jay's door. Then a key twisted the lock.
"Hey, hey." Nya opened the door enthusiastically. "How's my favorite inventor?"
"Alive, I guess." Jay shrugged, allowing himself to be pulled up into a hug. "So . . . what's . . . up?"
"I was thinking we could go grab a bite." Nya grimaced. "Or . . . maybe I could help you with your laundry. Yuck, Jay."
Jay shrugged again, falling back against the couch. "Not the hoodie though."
"Really, Jay?" Nya rolled her eyes.
"Yes, really! I just . . . I need more time, okay? I know it's dumb and weird and gross and a bunch of other words, but . . . I can't. I'm still- It still- . . . I don't want him to be gone. I- I just . . . I can't."
Jay's TV flickered on suddenly, screen frizzled with garbled static. Without missing a beat, Nya reached to turn it off. "Okay, Jay. Let me wash up everything else though. And please take a shower, yeah? Then I'll order some food. We can stay in and watch some movies."
"Okay. I could go for that."
Jay allowed himself to be led to the bathroom. It was a cramped little space, just like everything else in the ever-bustling city. His eyes flickered to the mirror. Boy, did he look awful. He looked away.
" . . . Jay?"
"Hmm?"
"How's . . . the other issue been?" Nya bit her lip, staring at Jay's fingertips with a combination of fright and excitement. "Anymore incidents? Besides making electronics go nuts?"
"No." Jay shoved his hands into the pocket of Cole's hoodie. "Like I told you, it's nothing. Coincidences. You couldn't have seen what you thought you saw."
"Okay. Sure. Let's say I didn't see electricity shooting from your hands." Nya said. "Streetlights still don't just explode. At least not simultaneously, all around you, while you're overwhelmed with emotions. I'm telling you it's-"
"It didn't happen! It couldn't have happened. I'm not some superhero, and this is not some tragic origin story. I'm just a very broken guy who smells like garbage. The only extraordinary thing about me, is how ordinary I am."
Nya looked like she wanted to push it. Before Cole's death, she probably would have. Her curiosity was insatiable. Stubborn. Relentless.
But this was After. The rules were different here. So she let it go, stepping back so Jay could shut the bathroom door.
Once he was alone, Jay slipped his hands out of the hoodie. He lifted them closer to his eyes. There were random arrays of freckles sprinkled over the pale skin.
You've got the softest hands of anyone I've ever met. A memory of Cole rose to the surface. Jay could almost feel Cole's fingers entwining with his. I never want to let them go.
But he had let go. Forever.
A spark flickered in between the index and middle finger of his left hand. Jay clenched it shut, extinguishing it in an instant. He let his eyes drift back toward the mirror.
"I'm going crazy without you, Cole." Jay said. "Very, very crazy."
BEFORE
Cole was late. Like always.
Jay stirred his drink. The iced water and the tea had begun to separate. Jay tried not to act antsy. But he couldn't help himself. He still couldn't believe Cole really was dating him.
Jay had never been anyone's first choice. Romantically, or otherwise. Girlfriend, boyfriend, Jay had never expected them to be part of his reality. Longing from a distance? Sure. Blushing at awkward interactions? Any day! That's what he had grown to expect. But dating? Holding hands? Kissing!?
It was unreal. Thus, Jay was in a constant state of doubt.
The door to the Café swung open. Jay's head snapped up, his eyes flooding with hope.
Cole walked inside. His brown skin was flushed, hair tangled up by the wind. Jay caught a flash of something in Cole's eyes. Steel-like resolve. Almost predatory. Goosebumps traveled up Jay's arms.
The look faded quickly, the moment Cole's eyes found Jay's. It was replaced by the warm gaze Jay always swooned for. It was the type of look that just made him feel safe. Cole accompanied the look with a smile. "Hey. Sorry. Did I make you wait long?"
"Not at all! I just got here." Just got here an hour ago, because I was anxious about being late. Ha-ha. Don't worry about it! I'm not a weirdo or anything! "So? What's up?"
"Nothing interesting." Cole chuckled, planting a quick kiss on Jay's lips before sitting down. "How about you? How's college treating you?"
"That's a heavy question, Cole. You shouldn't ask that unless you're ready for a five hour rant session. No breaks in between, either."
"That bad?"
"That bad." Jay sighed. "I'm just still not sure about my major. I hate having to commit. There's so much, you know? I know I want to be an engineer, sure. But do you know how many types of engineering there are? I'm leaning towards bioengineering today, but robotics could be more attractive tomorrow. Plus, I can't remember the last time I got a decent amount of sleep."
"Hmm. Want to know my input as a very, very educated therapist that definitely did not drop out of high school?"
"Yes. Please. Fix my life."
"You, my dear little freckled angel, need some caffeine. Maybe a very sugary pastry too. After that, a walk in the park. Sunlight is always good." Cole squeezed Jay's hand. "We can talk about the pros and cons of all your options. Maybe I can help you narrow things down."
"Okay. You're sure you don't want to just decide for me though?"
"Yeah, I'm sure." Cole chuckled. "I can pick a coffee for you though."
"Well, I guess that's one decision off my hands." Jay said. "What about you? What's going on with you?"
"Honestly, nothing." Cole shrugged. "Working. Paying bills. Boring stuff of your average nobody."
"It's always nothing with you." Jay pouted. "You're basically my portable diary, and I don't even know where you live."
"Trust me." Cole said. "There's nothing worth telling."
AFTER
There's nothing worth telling.
How many times had Cole said those words?
"I wish you'd known that, to me, everything was worth telling." Jay was laying on his bed. Night had fallen long ago, and Nya had gone, too. Jay's blue eyes stared at nothing in particular. He couldn't find the strength to sleep. "Everything about you was interesting. I could listen to you talk about anything! The way you brushed your hair and why, the process that went into your choice of clothing . . . anything."
Jay slipped his hands into the pocket of the hoodie.
"What would you have said about my newfound little power? Would you finally share your secrets, if I'd shown you? Probably not. You were a jerk, you know." Jay's voice wavered. He bit his lip. He wouldn't cry. If he cried, he'd get thirsty, and they he'd get a headache, and they he'd feel like chewed up gum in the morning.
He focused on breathing. Focused on anything but Cole. The way his AC unit sputtered, struggling to keep the apartment cool. The freshly washed laundry folded beside him. The fabric of Cole's hoodie . . . no, no, not Cole's hoodie. He couldn't think about-
Jay shot up into a sitting position. He shifted his fingers again. There was something beneath them. There was something in Cole's hoodie.
There was something in Cole's hoodie.
Jay peeled it off him desperately. His arms tangled up in it, and he stumbled off the bed. Wild curls stood every which way as it left his head. Jay tossed it onto the bed, feeling around again for the bulk he had felt.
It was . . . in the hoodie. Sewn into the fabric, with stitches small enough to seem almost part of the design. Jay tugged at them with no avail. He let his hands drop. "Scissors. Yes. Scissors. Do I have scissors?"
He ran around his apartment, flinging drawers open, shuffling through paid bills and forgotten assignments. Crayons, pencils, and even crumpled up bags of chips. No scissors.
"A knife . . . but . . . "Jay bounced on his toes. He wanted to see whatever was inside. But the thought of slicing up Cole's hoodie made his heart hurt.
The hoodie lay on the bed, patiently awaiting his final decision. Dozens of memories had been sewn onto the fabric. An answer, a mystery, had been stitched within. Curiosity beat sentimentality. Jay paced over to the kitchen.
He only had one knife. It wasn't the sharpest, by any means, but he was too lazy (stingy) to buy a better one. He hadn't even bought this one, either. He'd only swiped it from his mom's kitchen right before he had moved out.
With the knife on one hand and a trembling fist in the other, Jay approached the hoodie. He must have made quite the sight.
"Sorry, Cole. I'll totally buy you another one. Ha. Why am I not funny?" Jay shook his head, before digging the knife into the extra stitches.
He ripped the fabric open. Only enough to slide out whatever was within.
A small container slid into his hand. It was in the shape of a tube, painted black so he couldn't see what was inside. Jay popped the lid off. Carefully slid out the contents onto his bed.
There was a note. And a flash drive.
"Understandable." Jay said, faking a laugh. "Everyone has secret flash drives sewn into their clothes. I mean, can you really trust the internet these days? Hmm."
Jay's hands were shaking. He didn't know why. He stared at the note. He wanted to read it, but at the same time, he wanted it to go away. The indecision rooted him to the spot.
Finally, finally, Jay forced his hand to move. He unfolded the note. Cole's handwriting stared back at him. The tears he'd tried to fight, overwhelmed him. Without reading the words, Jay ran his finger over the paper.
Cole had touched it. Held it. Maybe not too long before he'd been shot. Maybe this little piece of paper was the last thing Cole had ever touched.
But it wasn't a goodbye. It wasn't a secret message. It was-
An address.
Jay recognized the name. Mojo Dojo. He'd walked past it before. Some type of martial arts school. It was always empty.
Beneath the address, scribbled in a panic, was a final array of words.
They found him. It's time.