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Cole was used to fall asleep with his mother’s hand in his hair. Every night, she would sat beside his bed after tucking the blanket up to his chin, her fingers moving slowly through the dark strands at the top of his head, then down behind his ear, then back again in the same gentle rhythm until his breathing softened. Sometimes she spoke quietly about literally anything, about the weather tomorrow or what she had done that day, and sometimes her voice melted into a lullaby he never heard anywhere else, a tune without real words, only a soft hum she seemed to make, special just for him. He would lie there listening, eyes half-closed, one small hand curled around the blanket while the other reached for her sleeve just to make sure she stayed there until sleep finally took him.
After she passed, nights became heavier than they should have been. His father still came to his room sometimes, standing at the doorway first before stepping inside, saying goodnight in a low voice, giving Cole a brief pat on the head before turning the light off and leaving him with the dark. When his eyes hasn’t closed, the room always felt too large after the door clicked shut.
On some nights Cole pressed his face into the pillow and cried where no one could hear him, shoulders shaking under the blanket until exhaustion dulled everything. Other nights he only stared at the ceiling, eyes following shadows on the walls while sleep refused to come, waiting until tiredness dragged him under without comfort, warmth, and the soft hand he had once had every evening.
And sometimes, in sleep, she came back.
In one of those dreams, they were in a field washed gold by evening light, grass dancing softly around them cause of the slow winds. Sometimes they rested beneath a sky with no sun at all, only pale brightness spreading everywhere like morning that never ended. But wherever they were, his mother was always there beside him, close enough that he could lean into her without asking. She would smile as if no time had passed, brush his hair back from his forehead, and guide his head into her lap with slow, patient hands.
She never hurried. Her fingers slipped through his hair exactly the way he remembered, tracing his scalp, smoothing the edges near his temple, pausing whenever his eyes began to close. Sometimes she hummed that same unfinished lullaby, so soft it almost blended with the air around them. Cole would listen without speaking, one hand loosely resting against her dress as though afraid she might disappear if he let go. The longer she touched his hair, the heavier his body felt, until even inside the dream he drifted again, sinking deeper into sleep with his face turned toward her and his breathing steady, as though her touch could still reach whatever part of him had never stopped being her little boy.
The ninja’s learn that sleep was rarely simple for any of them. Missions left bruises that did not always show on skin, and on some nights the silence after a battle felt louder than the fight itself.
Nightmares passed from room to room often enough that no one questioned it anymore when someone padded down the hallway in the dark and knocked softly on another door. They had all learned each other’s habits over time. Jay talked in his sleep when he was anxious, Lloyd curled tightly into himself after some difficult missions, and even Zane, who rested differently from the others, stayed nearby when someone needed quiet company through the night. Cuddling became something ordinary, never spoken about like it was strange, just another way they kept each other steady when sleep refused to come.
Cole had always been the easiest to share space with, the kind of someone that people leaned against without thinking.
‘its like hugging a huuugeee teddy bear’ as Jay once said.
But he rarely admitted that he often needed the comfort too.
Then there's Kai.
Before he and Kai together, they ended up in the same bed often enough after exhausting days, shoulders pressed together beneath blankets, one of them half asleep before either bothered to move apart. Kai — as the master of fire — was warm in a way that made cold nights easier. Always carrying heat like it lived under his skin. And Cole had long grown used to waking with Kai’s arm flung carelessly across his waist or a knee pressed against his leg.
This night had not felt different at first. The monastery was quiet after everyone had finally settled down for some rest, and the room was dim except for the faint moonlight slipping through the window. They lay facing each other that night, close enough that even in the dark he could make out the soft rise and fall of his boyfriend chest each time he breathed. Kai had pulled him in before either of them said much, one arm already curved beneath Cole’s head so he rested partly against it, the other wrapped securely around his back.
Neither of them spoke. A moment later, without warning or thought, Kai’s hand moved. His fingers slipped into Cole’s hair, brushing lightly near his temple before trailing over the top of his head in one slow stroke. And the other sliding carefully along Cole’s back in a slow line that stopped between his shoulders and stayed there.
It was absentminded, almost lazy.
But Cole went completely still.
Kai’s fingers passed through his hair again, gentler this time, smoothing a few strands back from his forehead before repeating the motion. No teasing, no comment, no reason behind it except simple affection. His hand kept moving in a slow rhythm, fingertips grazing his scalp, pausing briefly behind his ear, then returning to the crown of his head.
And suddenly Cole was not in the monastery anymore.
For one sharp moment he remembered soft humming in the dark, remembered small hands gripping a blanket, remembered the warmth of someone sitting beside him while sleep came easy because someone stayed until it did. The memory rose so suddenly it made his chest tighten, but there was no pain in it this time, only something deep and old loosening quietly inside him.
His eyes had already closed before he noticed.
The tension he usually carried at night began slipping away piece by piece. His shoulders dropped first, then the line of his jaw softened, then the restless thoughts that usually kept circling finally dulled into silence. Kai’s fingers never stopped, still moving through his hair with the same thoughtless tenderness, unaware that every pass of his hand reached somewhere Cole had kept hidden for years.
His breathing changed without him meaning to. Slower. Deeper.
By the time Kai noticed, Cole had already drifted off completely, body heavy against the mattress, both hand slipped holding the brunet waist. Kai looked down slightly, probably expecting some sleepy complaint or any muttered joke, but none came. Cole was asleep, properly asleep, and that came without tension in his brow or any sudden restless turning.
In the morning, Cole woke first and stayed still for a long while.
Kai’s arm was still around him. Sunlight stretched across the blanket, pale and quiet, and Cole scoot closer and stay there while the memory from the night before settled fully in his chest.
It had been years since sleep came that easily.
Years since one simple touch had quieted something in him so completely.
He understood then why his chest had felt so strange when Kai touched his hair, why waking up rested felt almost unfamiliar, and why some part of him wanted to stay asleep just to remain in that feeling a little longer.
When Kai stirred and sleepily asked why he was 'awake so early'. Cole only looks at him with something soft and thoughtful before answering, "Why you do that?"
Kai blinked, voice rough with sleep.
"Hmn...? Do what?"
Cole hesitated, then reached up and touched his own hair near his temple.
"That. Last night."
Kai frowned, eyes still trying to defeat the sunlight. "The hair thing?" He gave a small shrug against the pillow. "You looked tense. Thought it might help."
Cole looked down for a second, mouth pressing into something halfway between a smile and something more fragile.
"It did," he said quietly.
He did not explain more, not yet, but when Kai’s hand found his hair again, slower this time because now he understood it mattered, Cole closed his eyes for just a second and leaned back into the touch without resistance, letting himself accept how deeply it reached.