Cole sighed as he left Nya's room. He was still cringing inside, and he knew he had to find Jay before any more damage was done. At least Nya was going to be gone for the day. He could try to work it out with the younger ninja a little more peacefully.

He walked out into the kitchen, where Jay was hurriedly shoveling eggs down without saying anything to anyone. Great. Jay was pissed off and, although rightfully so, it frustrated Cole. Jay shot a glance at Cole, glaring from underneath the hair that had fallen over his eyes as he was ducked over his bowl. Nobody else caught the glare, but Cole knew he was in for it. Damn it, Nya.

He felt a little uncomfortable about the whole situation. He knew Jay had won Nya over a couple years ago fair and square, but it was still a touchy topic. He backed off. He never gave up his feelings for Nya, although they had subsided over the years. There was still a twinge of regret though, and he wished he had maybe fought harder.

It was hard to understand his feelings, even then. He was a few years older than Nya, and it made sense that Jay would end up with her. He had mostly backed off to quit the infighting between Jay and him. It hurt him too much to be constantly fighting with his best friend. Sometimes he wondered if maybe he was just jealous of Nya, and he didn't actually want to date her. He and Jay had always been close, sometimes closer than the others he felt. He was frustrated when Jay had originally sort of dropped him when he and Nya had started dating, but after a while Jay figured out a better balance. It still sucked sometimes to see Jay and Nya hanging out without him, but he was mostly over it.

Today was different, though. Today, Jay wasn't looking at him like his best friend. He wasn't looking at him like his rival, either. He wasn't looking at him at all.

Cole sat across from Jay at the kitchen table, the silence between them thick and suffocating. The usual sounds of the household had faded into a distant hum as everyone slowly finished and left to do their own thing before training, but here, in this small space, all Cole could hear was the quiet scrape of Jay's spoon against his bowl. The tension sat heavy in the air, unspoken but undeniable.

Cole wasn't sure what to say, or if he should say anything at all. He wanted to break the silence, to tell Jay that nothing had changed, that things weren't what they seemed. But he knew Jay wouldn't believe him. Hell, he wasn't sure if he believed himself.

Jay continued eating, his movements slow and deliberate. There was no anger in his expression, no accusations ready to be thrown. Just exhaustion. A quiet kind of pain that Cole had never seen before—not directed at him, at least.

It was almost worse than a fight.

Cole hesitated before speaking, his voice coming out quieter than he intended. "Jay."

Jay didn't look up.

Cole exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. "Are you just gonna ignore me all day?"

Jay's spoon stilled against the bowl. For a long moment, Cole thought he wouldn't answer, that the silence would stretch on between them like an impassable distance. But then Jay sighed, pushing the bowl away.

"I don't know," he murmured. "Am I?"

The words weren't sharp, but they hit Cole like a punch to the gut. He opened his mouth to respond, but Jay was already standing, grabbing his bowl and moving to the sink.

Cole watched as Jay rinsed it out, the simple motion feeling like a dismissal.

"You don't have to do this," Cole said finally, keeping his voice even. "If you're mad, just say it."

Jay shook his head, setting the bowl aside. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, eyes fixed on some invisible point beyond Cole's shoulder.

"I'm not mad," Jay said, and for the first time, he sounded like he meant it. "I just… don't know what you want me to say."

Cole stood, his chair scraping against the floor as he did. He moved toward Jay, stopping a few feet away, unwilling to push too close.

"I don't want you to say anything," Cole admitted. "I just don't want this—" he gestured vaguely between them "—to be weird."

Jay let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Weird?" He finally looked at Cole, and the weight in his gaze was enough to pin him in place. "Cole, it's always been weird."

Cole swallowed. He didn't ask what Jay meant, because he already knew. It had always been complicated between them, even before Nya. Before labels, before the unspoken words that had never been said aloud.

He didn't know if there was a way to fix that.

Jay pushed away from the counter, brushing past Cole as he made his way toward the door. He paused before leaving, fingers gripping the doorframe like he was holding himself back.

"You don't have to worry," Jay said softly. "I'm not gonna make this a thing."

And then he was gone, leaving Cole alone in the quiet kitchen, wondering why that somehow made it worse.

.・。.・・.・・・。.

The rest of the day passed in the same unbearable silence. Jay had disappeared into the garage, tinkering with circuits and wires in an attempt to keep his hands busy. Cole lingered in the training room, hitting the punching bag with more force than necessary, as if he could shake the weight of Jay's words with sheer physical exhaustion.

When they did cross paths—grabbing water from the kitchen, moving through the hallways—it was with avoidance. A sidelong glance from Jay, a hesitation from Cole, neither willing to address the growing distance between them.

The absence of Nya was felt in a way neither of them wanted to acknowledge. She was always the balancing force, the one who kept their tension from tipping over into something unmanageable. Without her, it was just them. Just all the things left unsaid, pressing down on them like a weight neither could escape.

As the evening settled in, Cole found himself sitting on the couch, staring at a show he wasn't actually watching. The air was thick with unspoken things, and he knew Jay was still in the garage, still working himself into the ground to avoid it.

Then the front door opened, and Nya stepped inside. She looked exhausted, like the weight of the world was on her shoulders, but there was something else—something Cole couldn't quite place. Her eyes flickered over him, searching, and when she didn't see Jay, her expression faltered.

Cole sat up slightly. "Hey."

She dropped her bag by the door. "Hey." Her voice was softer than usual, cautious. "Where's Jay?"

"In the garage," Cole said, rubbing the back of his neck. "He's been there most of the day."

Nya sighed, pulling off her jacket. "Of course he has."

She hesitated before moving toward the garage, glancing back at Cole like she wanted to say something. Like she knew something was wrong. But she didn't press, and Cole didn't offer an explanation. She already knew that Jay was in the garage. She had seen him when she pulled up, but she left her bike in the driveway, not wanting to face him just yet.

The door shut behind her, leaving Cole alone in the dim light of the living room. He exhaled slowly, pressing his hands together. He didn't know what he wanted anymore.

But he knew that whatever had broken between him and Jay today, Nya wasn't going to be able to fix it this time.

.・。.・・.・・・。.

Nya stepped cautiously into the garage, the familiar scent of metal and machinery filling her nostrils. Jay was hunched over his workbench, his back to her, hands steady as he twisted a screwdriver into some half-formed contraption. He didn't acknowledge her, but she knew he heard her.

She leaned against the doorframe, watching him for a moment. The weight in his shoulders, the tension in his movements—she recognized it all too well.

"You didn't come out all day," she said finally. It wasn't a question, and Jay knew she had seen Cole already. Great. Now he was greeting her when she got back home from being away.

Jay didn't look up. "Was busy."

Nya sighed, stepping further inside. "Jay, what's going on?"

He hesitated, his grip tightening around the screwdriver. Then, carefully, he set it down, resting his hands against the workbench. "Nothing," he murmured. "Everything's fine."

Nya narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms. "Bullshit."

Jay let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. "You always know, don't you?"

She moved closer, placing a hand gently on his arm. "Yeah. And I know when something's eating at you."

Jay was silent for a long moment, then, finally, he turned to face her. His eyes were tired, filled with something she couldn't quite name.

"It's Cole," he admitted quietly. "Or maybe it's me. I don't know anymore."

Nya frowned, searching his face. "Did something happen?"

Jay let out a shaky breath. "Yeah. And that's the problem—I don't even know what."

Nya watched Jay carefully, waiting for him to say something, anything that could help her understand what was going on inside his head. She had seen Jay upset before—frustrated, anxious, overwhelmed—but this was different. This was quiet. This was a storm brewing beneath the surface.

Jay finally sighed, running a hand down his face. "It's just... today felt off," he admitted. "Like I was in a different world and everything was moving without me."

Nya frowned, stepping closer. "Jay, you know you can talk to me, right? Whatever it is, you don't have to keep it bottled up."

Jay let out a soft, humorless laugh. "I know. And I want to, I do. But some things just feel... too big to say out loud."

She sat down on the stool beside him, gently nudging his knee with hers. "Then start small. What's on your mind right now?"

Jay hesitated, fingers drumming against the workbench. "I feel like I'm losing something," he finally admitted. "Like I woke up today and something was different, something was missing, but I don't know what. And the worst part? I feel like it's my fault."

Nya tilted her head, concern flickering across her face. "What do you think you're losing?"

Jay exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "I don't know. Maybe myself. Maybe... something I didn't even realize I had in the first place."

Nya rested a hand on his arm, grounding him. "You're not losing yourself, Jay. You're allowed to have bad days. You're allowed to feel out of place sometimes. That doesn't mean something's slipping away."

Jay looked at her, searching for something in her eyes. "And what if it is? What if I don't know how to get it back?"

She gave his arm a gentle squeeze. "Then we'll figure it out. Together."

Jay swallowed, nodding slightly. "Yeah. Together."

For a moment, the garage was quiet, save for the faint hum of the overhead lights. Nya didn't push any further, didn't demand answers Jay wasn't ready to give. She just stayed there, beside him, steady and certain just like always, until the weight in his chest felt just a little lighter.

.・。.・・.・・・。.

The night settled heavy over the monastery, a stillness blanketing the halls that seemed almost unnatural. Cole lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts tangled in a mess he couldn't begin to unravel. He had spent the entire day avoiding Jay, avoiding the weight of what had gone unspoken between them. But avoidance was only a temporary solution—it didn't change the way his chest ached or how his mind kept circling back to the same question: When had things between them shifted so far beyond repair?

He let out a frustrated sigh, turning onto his side, but sleep didn't come. It never did when his thoughts ran this wild. Eventually, he pushed himself up, deciding that maybe some fresh air would help clear his head. He padded through the monastery, moving quietly through the halls until he reached the balcony overlooking the forest.

The air was cool, crisp, carrying the scent of the sea in the distance. It was peaceful out here, away from everything, but it didn't quiet the storm inside him. He gripped the railing tightly, inhaling deeply, trying to ground himself.

"I knew I'd find you out here."

Cole stiffened slightly before glancing over his shoulder. Jay stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable.

Cole forced a small smirk. "Couldn't sleep either?"

Jay scoffed lightly, stepping onto the balcony beside him. "Like I ever can when there's something eating at me."

They stood there for a while, the silence between them stretching, not quite comfortable but not unbearable either. Jay shifted his weight from foot to foot, like he was debating something, before he finally let out a heavy sigh.

"Cole… what are we doing?"

Cole tensed. He knew this conversation was coming, but he still wasn't prepared for it. He kept his eyes on the horizon. "I don't know," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Jay huffed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. Me neither."

The words hung between them, filled with too much meaning. It had always been complicated between them, an unspoken tension lingering beneath every argument, every stolen glance, every moment where the line between friendship and something else blurred beyond recognition.

Jay sighed again, this time softer. "I don't want to lose you, Cole."

Something in Cole's chest tightened. He turned to finally look at Jay, really look at him—the worry etched into his features, the slight tremor in his hands, the way he was biting his lip like he was holding back too much.

"You're not going to," Cole murmured, more certain of that than anything else.

Jay let out a breathy laugh, but there was no humor in it. "Aren't I? Because it feels like I already am. I don't think it's going so great with Nya either. So it's kind of imperative to know."

Cole swallowed hard, words failing him. He wanted to tell Jay that wasn't true, that nothing could change what they had, but he wasn't sure how to make Jay believe it when he wasn't sure he believed it himself.

Jay shook his head, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I should go," he said, voice quieter now, like he was afraid of what might happen if he stayed any longer or heard Cole's response.

Cole wanted to stop him. Wanted to reach out, grab his wrist, say something that would make this easier. But he didn't. He just watched as Jay turned and walked away, leaving Cole alone with the weight of everything that had gone unsaid.

He stayed on the balcony long after Jay had gone, staring at the dark horizon, wondering how much longer they could keep running from the truth before it finally caught up to them.