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It was Cole's 14nth birthday when he met Jay.
And honestly? And after days of sitting with the boy, watching him try to utter a single word, he realized that Jay was a gift.
Jay, who backtracked on almost everything he said at first, who doubted every sentence he could manage to utter to the point where Cole had to reassure him every minute that no, you aren't being annoying. No, you aren't a pain. And no, I really do want to know.
Because Jay was amazing. When he allowed himself to speak, he'd ramble on about quantum physics or whatever for hours on end, creating essays worth or arguments for something Cole had no idea about.
But it didn't really matter. Just seeing Jay so free and vibrant and everything was rewarding enough. His ginger hair, completely flat to his head at the beginning of the year would fluff up from the static he emitted whenever he'd talk, and when he was really into it, Cole could spot sparks and tiny bursts of electricity running through the strands.
He tried his best to understand, he really did. But on occasion, he could tell Jay knew only a fraction of his words were being understood.
But again, it didn't matter. Jay had found someone who would listen, and Cole found someone he wanted to listen to.
They were eventually forced to learn to exchange information after some awkward silences that came after Jay's rant would end. Sure listening to Jay talk was splendid, but even he got exhausted. After a burst of energy, Jay would revert to his quiet self, but a little more content than he was when he first arrived.
And then Jay would turn to him, waiting expectedly for him to share whatever he wanted to.
It was difficult at first, opening up wasn't a thing Cole was used to. He hadn't talked much after his mother died, even less after the whole fiasco at the train station with his dad. He spent much of his time alone, as most of the other kids had given up trying to talk to someone who refused to even look at them. He didn't have someone so willing to stay by his side until Jay.
The first thing he shared was his name. Then his time.
Where should he go from there?
He had to take another step.
It was shaky, messy, and incredibly risky. Just a simple question that cost him what felt like millennia of rehearsal.
'Can I play you something?'
It should have been easy, just a short little song he knew by heart, no speaking whatsoever. And yet he shook like a leaf the entire time.
Jay smiled. His eyes were bright. He was beaming and he practically stayed that way throughout the entire song, listening, urging him to go on even when his fingering was messy and his strumming was out of time (that was embarrassing as hell).
Anyone could notice how much time they spent together, talking and talking and talking about anything and everything.
Jay became more confident, speaking with a more carefree tone almost every minute of the day. His hair stayed puffed up for most of every day, and Cole had nearly forgotten what it looked like flat. When the android Zane was introduced and Jay stayed his confident self, he wondered if Zane would ever know the timid boy he used to be. Jay prodded and asked Zane all kinds of questions, so different from how he was at his own arrival.
But then again, so was Cole.
He had opened up to the world, he allowed himself to feel, to not bottle his emotions like all the years before and all of it. Every good thing that had happened to him since his mother.
Was because of Jay.
Jay, whose favorite colors were a disgusting match of blue and orange, whose favorite comic series dated back 50 years ago. Whose eyes shone like honey in the sunlight and the deepest browns in the dark.
Jay, who changed his life the moment they met.
Cole still thinks about his 14nth birthday, when he's sitting and listening to Jay shake his hands wildly as he talked of the most recent craze, smile wide and beaming, where his world was blessed with the gift of Jay.