Archive of Our Own

Morro held his breath as he waited for the noise within the Air Temple to settle.

It was a fairly empty afternoon. A few of the Ninja were off patrolling (…or something. Morro didn’t really pay attention to their meetings if it didn’t directly involve him), and the others were taking a rest day. Sensei Wu was hiding somewhere or other.

That meant that it shouldn’t be too difficult to sneak out. As long as he called on his dragon in the sky—something he was getting progressively better at—then no one would know he was gone until he was back. In theory, all the people that usually checked on him were out and about.

Perfect.

hey green streak r u still comin in 2day

im fixing ur settings the second u walk in btw

i do try!

Phone checked and then secured into his pocket, Morro crept down the hallway. The old flooring creaked and moaned where he stepped, no matter how softly or oddly he moved. Thank the Gods no one came to investigate.

Groaning, the doors opened into the outside world. He briefly relished in it before running the jumping straight off.

Whoosh!

Wind whipped in his ears, hard and loud and perfect. Morro reached into his gut and pulled on the feeling, creating it into something tangible, forcing it to be physical.

Yellow poured out of his chest and into the shape of a roaring dragon, just in time to reach the ground. It screeched in pleasure, twisting around and around in the air. Long and sleek, his dragon was an extension of himself.

When he was angry, it was angry. When he was sad, it wouldn’t even come out. When he was happy or excited? It moved just as easily as his own limbs.

Morro laughed and urged it to go faster still, until he could see the layout of Ninjago City. As buildings and vehicles and even people came into details, he tugged the animal back into his body and rolled onto the ground.

The walk to Corner Café wasn’t far from here, if he remembered right.

…Which he didn’t. He wasn’t exactly paying attention that day.

Morro stared intently at the device before the little bubbles popped up. Then they disappeared, then came back, then disappeared again.

??????
from
where????

Instead of waiting, he picked one direction and started walking. Surely, with all the things he’d been through, he’d get lucky and find it.

Buzz!

Morro kept walking, falsely confident.

Buzz! Buzz!

He had no fucking clue where he was.

Sighing, he opened the box back up.

i’m gonna assume you don’t know how maps works
all you need to do is click the next text, let it open the maps app, and then click “go” (i stg if you fuck it up im not picking you up)
22301 Viridian Way S, Ninjago City, Ninjago

“What the fuck does he mean click—” Morro started, only to immediately figure out what it did. The address opened a map, right in his phone. Strangely convenient, but he wasn’t complaining.

He clicked “Start”. A dark green path popped up, showing him exactly which turns to take. The top had a bar that read: “ETA: 10 Minutes”. Easy enough, he supposed.

Unluckily, the route did not take him ten minutes. Between nearly getting lost twice and the distance itself, it took him almost half an hour.

He made it, though. The Corner Café stood above him in all of its not-so-interesting glory.

Ding!

“Mo! You—shit!” The coffee that had been in Brad’s hand sloshed and spilled over the counter. “Sorry! Two seconds!”

Morro stood in the doorway, bouncing from foot to foot. He… hadn’t thought this far about hanging out. Was he supposed to walk to the counter? Take a seat at the bar stools? It was fairly empty, luckily, but that also meant he had a lot more options.

Brad was his savior. “Hey, Vampire Boy, come over here a minute,” the teen grinned.

The floors of the shop were clean but not shiny, in a neat sort of way. Not a single one of the heads turned as he moved and he was, frankly, grateful for that.

“What’s up?”

“You want anything to drink? I’ve got a few more minutes until my coworker can take over for me, but I can make you somethin’ in the meantime,” Brad offered.

“Oh, uhh,” Morro had no idea what he wanted. Again, he hadn’t thought this far ahead. “The fruit drink I had last time?”

The other snorted. “Dude, bold of you to assume I memorized your order. We have a few fruity things,” he added, accompanied by a strange wiggle of his eyebrows.

Morro completely ignored his implications. “I think it was the refresher?”

Brad snapped his fingers. “Yes! That sounds right. Let me get started on that.” As the machines whirred and worked, he turned around and shouted into the back, “Gene! I’m takin’ my lunch, get your ass out here!”

Somehow, no one in the café stirred at the language. How times changed.

A ginger haired teen stumbled out, phone in hand. He mumbled something Morro didn’t catch before taking base at the register.

Brad, on the other hand, was done with their drinks—he’d be having the same as Morro, apparently—and guided them over to a bar-high table. He passed one cup to Morro before taking a few long sips of his own.

“Alright, Vampire boy,” he started.

“Not a vampire.”

Brad stuck his tongue out. “Sure, bud. Now give me your damn phone so I can fix the settings.”

Rolling his eyes, Morro did just that. The other walked him through the steps of what he was doing. Settings here, a few clicks there, and he was entirely lost in the span of a few seconds. Whatever. Not like he’d ever need the skill in the future, right?

The updated bits of his phone were nice, though, he’d admit. It was darker, and the capitals didn’t come up (fuck capital letters, he’s interesting like that).

“Anyways!” Brad tapped his hands against the table. “How’ve you been, Greenstreak?”

“Not horrible,” he noted, which wasn’t entirely wrong. “Better than when I last saw you.”

Brad raised an eyebrow. “Last time I saw you was the first time I saw you, guy.”

“Exactly my point.”

The blue-haired teen giggled, sloshing the drink in his hand. “Fair enough.”

Morro smiled, just a little bit. “How about you?”

Brad launched into an explanation of everything he’d been feeling, from his roommate (Gene, the ginger on his phone), to this odd sense of déjà vu, all the way to how happy he was to finally hang out with Morro again. He told great stories of green plants and painted pictures of sparking emotion.

Morro caught onto every single word.

(Somewhere in his mind, he thought this would work out.)

“Morro! Dude! What the fuck?”

The teen in question stuck his tongue out after he finished chugging the entire drink. It was, in fact, disgusting, but he’s had worse and he’ll do it for the bit.

Brad cheered.

Gene scrunched up his face. “Literally why the fuck is Brad friends with you.”

“‘Cause he’s better than you ever will be, Geney,” the barista said, laying his arms around the other’s shoulders.

Morro grinned, lopsided and odd but true nonetheless.

Ding!

Brad untangled himself immediately. “Hi there, and welcome to Corner Café!”

“Hi!” The person replied, polite smile and easy posture perfectly in place.

He tuned out their entire conversation. There was a reason he didn’t work in customer service, excluding the fact that he didn’t legally exist.

…He should probably get that fixed. Whatever. Problem for a later date. For now, he was hanging out with his friend and his friend’s roommate.

Both were quite the set of characters he'd found. Nearly the opposite of what he expected. Brad started out seeming sweet, borderline innocent, in a way that was nice.

In actuality, his friend was a little shit.

He made dumb bets and acted on even stupider ones, never failing to crack a gruesome joke. On occasion, he had gone as far as to lose the store customers for the sake of doing what he wanted. He was the epitome of an asshole with a good smile. Obviously, he was Morro’s best friend because of this.

(Ignore the fact he had no other friends besides the Ninja. Let him have this.)

Morro himself had jumped in on more than a few bad ideas. The drink he’d just had? It consisted of a straight shot of coffee grounds in cold water. It was foul. He earned a healthy twenty bucks for it, and would absolutely repeat the process.

Needless to say, the combined dumbassery of the two teenagers was one of the best and worst things to happen. It gave them both a decent outlet, but, eventually, will totally get them in deep trouble. So far? They were safe. Morro would take what he could get.

Gene, on the other hand, was the sole mediator thus far. Sure, the kid was on his phone all the fucking time (to Morro’s dismay), glared at customers, and continuously made bets he couldn’t keep, but that didn’t actually mean anything. He was a master at bluffing in the sense that he gave a lot more shits than one would expect while equally giving none.

Did that make any sense? Absolutely not. This is Morro’s internal monologue. Has he ever made sense?

Don’t answer that, actually. He didn’t want to know.

Anyways. Brad and Gene.

The duo had been friends for a long time themselves. Hell, they’d opened a coffee shop together! A successful one at that. Morro was shocked to find that out, considering they were both seventeen.

Laws don’t exist, apparently. He’s fairly certain you couldn’t own a business that young back in his day. Then again, he was never old enough to find out…

Bad train of thought. Turning it around. He’s alive and with one and a half friends. What’s the problem in that?

Ding!

A hand shook his shoulder. “You done thinkin’ up in that empty damn head of yours, Greener?”

Morro whipped around, nearly punching Gene. To his credit, Gingersnap didn’t do more than raise an eyebrow.

“Don’t scare my like that, you fuck,” he scowled.

“Sorry, man, won’t happen again.” Gene shrugged, sidestepping behind the counter. “Question stands. You done thinkin’?”

“I wasn’t” — Bad start, don’t go with that, wait — “I’m done. Why?”

“It’s almost time for our lunch!” Brad cheered. He was wiping down some sort of a machine with a cloth, then the counters, then rinsing the rag and starting again.

“You’re both leaving the store?” That surely had to be illegal, right?

“Only for, like, forty minutes. We have a sign and everythin’. It’s the slower part of the afternoon so it shouldn’t be too bad,” he explained.

The two moved in practiced synchronization, dancing around each other and various chores. Machines hummed and bottles spritzed, all while Morro felt useless.

“Anything I can help with?”

Brad glanced up for half a second before scrubbing what he could only assume was a stubborn stain. “Nah, we got it, guy. Just about done, anyhow.”

Morro awkwardly stood in the center of the store, not quite sure where to go or what to do. Brad said there wasn’t anything to help with, but he didn’t want to just stand there either. That felt rude.

Thank the Gods the barista hadn’t lied. It was only a few more seconds before he clapped and practically dragged the two out of the store. Morro kept pace mostly fine, only occasionally getting confused when they took a sharp turn. Gene, on the other hand, got stuck behind multiple times because he was on his damn phone again.

Whatever. Not his problem.

(And when he finally learned what he was doing on his phone, well. He couldn’t blame him as much.)

“Oh come on, man, you have to be a vampire!” Brad challenged.

“I am not,” Morro retorted. “I just grew up in the middle of nowhere.”

“So did I! I went to a fucking boarding school, dude! We didn’t even have a TV!”

“Maybe I’m just special.”

Brad slugged his shoulder. “Or maybe you’re a fucking vampire!”

“But we’re in the sun?”

“Fancy sunscreen! Or maybe vampires don’t work how we think!”

“Or, and hear me out, I am not a vampire.”

“Then what are you?”

“A ghost,” he said, barely missing a beat.

Wait.

Fuck.

Brad didn’t know that. Brad didn’t know what he’d done and now he was going to hate him because it’s unforgivable and—

“Oh, Gene’s gonna be pissed,” Brad groaned.

Of course Gene would be pissed! Morro is horrible! How had Brad not punched him again?

“I owe him, like, five dollars now. Damn bastard, winnin’ all our bets.”

Morro’s shitty backstory even lost Brad money! Because—wait, what?

“Pardon?” He squeaked.

“Yeah! We made a bet on whether or not you were a vampire or something else—because there was no fucking way you were a normal human—and he bet against me. Could’ve told me earlier!” Brad was laughing, somehow. How was he laughing?

Morro wired his mouth shut and nodded, sinking into his seat. If he said something else, he’d probably just scream, which felt counterintuitive.

Brad kept talking as if nothing was wrong. As if Morro didn’t just reveal that he was evil, and gross, and something so twisted and horrible and unlovable and—

“Woah, Greenstreak, you good?”

Morro nodded, shook his head, then nodded again.

“The fuck does that mean?”

Morro shrugged.

Brad leaned down to look at him, head tilted sideways. “Did I say somethin’?”

No, Morro wanted to say. I’m just horrified that you’ll hate me because I’m fucking horrible and on the verge of a terrible day.

He opened his mouth once, twice, before giving up and shrugging again. Why was he even so worried about this? Brad could easily assume it was a joke, or Morro could lie and say it was, or whatever else. It shouldn’t even be a problem.

But as much as he hated to admit it, Morro liked Brad. He wanted to be friends. Hell, he was proud he’d been able to make a friend! When’s he going to get a chance like that again?

Not often, that’s for certain.

“Morro?”

He shook his head in a failed attempt to clear it. If he could just get his damn thoughts under control, lock them into their box, then everything would be fine! He could worry about it later!

“Are you able to talk right now?”

Oh fuck, even better. This is the bit where Brad realized that Morro is not only a terrible person but also an idiot in general, an idiot who can’t talk or write or read correctly and—

“Tap my hand once for yes, two for no, okay? Can you do that for me?”

Morro tapped his hand.

Brad’s smile lights up like the sun—no, that’s too bright, too glaring. It’s like the moon, calm and careful and caring.

“Awesome! I’m going to take some deep breaths, can you copy me?”

Again, Morro tapped his hand.

“Perfect. In and out, just like this.” Brad took a deep, solid, inhale. Morro copied shakily. “And out.”

In, out. In, out.

Feel the breath in his lungs, feel the way it welcomed him. Feel the way that it’ll all be okay.

In, out.

“You’re doing really good, ‘ro. Can I ask what happened?”

Morro tapped his hand twice.

“No? That’s alright. Just let me know if I did something wrong, and I won’t do it again.” Brad bit his lip, a habit Morro found the other doing when they’re stressed. Gods, it’s all his fault, isn’t it? Brad is stressed because Morro messed up, like always. He’s going to leave and—

“In, out,” his friend reminded, voice soft. “You can do it, guy.”

Inhale, exhale. Feel the wind on his skin. He’s fine.

“Do you still want help, guy? Or—”

Morro tapped Brad’s hand before his sentence finished.

The barista kept breathing. The other followed along.

Eventually, his thoughts cleared. Gone was the initial panic, now being replaced with a strong remorse.

“Sorry,” Morro mumbled.

Brad tapped his hand twice. “Don’t be. It’s really not a problem, okay?”

Morro tapped his hand once, paused, then tapped it two more. Then two more after that. Then five. Then ten.

Deep breath. In, out. He’s okay.

Brad squeezed his hand and stayed silent. Waiting for an explanation, probably. It was deserved and if—if his friend decided that was the line and left, then that was that. Morro would find a way to deal with the fallout himself.

“You know the, um, whole ghost thing, few months back?” Morro asked.

A raise of an eyebrow. “Wait, you weren’t joking?”

“No!” Two taps. Already a habit. “I was, uhm, one of the ghosts?”

Brad opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again.

Morro withdrew his hands with a mutter. “You’re gonna let the flies in, kid.”

“Not a kid,” came the immediate response.

Morro looked anywhere but Brad’s face. This was it, this was where it all ended. He couldn’t bear to watch.

“Does this, like, change shit? Do I need to be more careful about the fuckery I say?”

Morro snapped his eyes to Brad’s. “What the fuck…? No! Why would even think about that?”

Brad threw his hands in the air. “I don’t know! You don’t talk about, like, your past and shit, which is totally fair! But I didn’t think you seriously weren’t human! And I don’t want to offend you!”

“Why the hell would you offend me?” Morro was flabbergasted. Was his friend actually insane? “Dude, I tried to kill people!”

“And?” Brad retorted. “What’s that matter?”

For a second, Morro almost, almost believed that it didn’t actually matter. Almost believed that his past was the past, and it didn’t affect him now. Key word? Almost.

But, you know. Killing people is pretty damn irredeemable in most eyes.

“An entire fucking city was fucked over, and it was all my fault, because I’m this shitty horrible person and—”

Two taps. “That’s what this is about? Guy,” Brad grabbed both his hands and squeezed. “You are not a bad person for the mistakes you made. Especially since you clearly don’t feel the same anymore, not to mention you were dead.”

Gods, how he wanted to believe him. Life would be so much easier if he could believe that.

But he can’t. Because he sucks.

He nodded anyway. What was the use in starting a fight about it, right?

Brad, for now, took it as a good enough response.

(Morro was not aware that, at the time, Brad made a long-standing vow to get him to change that view.)

He shrugged his hands away. “Thanks, Brad.”

“Anytime, Morro. You wanna go snag some ice cream?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

(Note: ice cream temporarily solved all self-esteem problems.)

Morro has had a week, so far. And it’s only Wednesday! Gods, what was he supposed to even do?

Sometimes, he’s learned, all of the Ninja will get burnt out around the same time. When that happens, the entire temple gets snippy with one another. Morro has had to break up more than a few fights, and he’s nearly started even more.

It’s honestly a bit insane. The week had started out normal, the Ninja splitting off to do various duties (mostly popularity stunts), and Morro sat at the Air Temple. One person snapped, and another, and another, until all of a sudden there was a fucking screaming match two rooms over from where he was trying to draw.

It only escalated from there, unfortunately. Which sucks. This had only happened twice in his real memories, but he knows about them from Lloyd, which may just serve to make it worse. His team obviously don’t hate each other, but they sure as hell seem to sometimes.

He took a deep breath.

Today, he kept his fucking peace and left the Air Temple in the early hours of the morning to go down to the parks in Ninjago City. There were a few, and one of them was miles long. It felt like a forest.

Each of the trees swayed in the crisp wind, the leaves beginning to sprout. Despite the chill, Morro was quite literally in his element. This is exactly what he needed on a day like this. The chimes of leaves and the symphony of animals, all coming together in a way like no other. He might even be able to fly his dragon back if he’s relaxed enough!

He closed his eyes and kept walking, noting there was no one around him.

One deep breath in—pause—one deep breath out. Again and again, until he’s a little calmer and a tad more prepared.

Thud!

His eyes snapped open with a groan. “Ow, Gods, watch where you’re—Gene?”

The ginger, who of course was on his damn phone (when had Morro ever seen the teen not on it?), looked up with a glare. “You watch it, asshole, can’t you see a guy walkin’?”

“No!” Morro exclaimed. His eyes had literally been closed.

Gene squinted at him. “Oh, wait, I know you.”

Morro rolled his eyes. “Obviously, I said your name.”

“You did?”

“Yes?”

“Was that a question?”

“What—no, Gods above—”

“Wait how the fuck do you even know me?”

Morro grit his teeth. “I’m one of Brad’s frie—”

“Brad doesn’t have any other friends,” Gene snorted. He paused, and then his eyes lit up in recognition. “Wait, yes he does! You’re that weird fuckin’ vampire boy, ain’t you?”

He’s really never going to live the vampire thing down, is he?

“I’m not a vampire, how many times do I have to tell that—”

“Yeah, y’are that kid! Seen you—”

“Will you fucking quit interruptingme?” Morro growled. Of all days, today was the one he had to run into Brad’s weird roommate. Literally, for that matter.

Gene scrunched his nose. “The fuck’s your problem?”

Morro stared at him. He blinked once, twice. “Nothing’s wrong.”

He sped off walking in the opposite direction.

Unfortunately, footsteps caught back up to him. “Wait, dude, are you actually fine? You seem fucked, and like, I can’t have one of Brad’s friends—”

“I’m fine, Gingersnap.”

“Who’s interrupting who now, Greener?”

Morro’s eyes twitched. Gene’s smirk grew.

“Anyways, if you ain’t doin’ alright, man, I can call Brad.” The teenager held up his phone for emphasis. “Emergency contact and all.”

“This isn’t an emergency,” Morro scowled. “I’m not fucking insane. It’s just been a long week.”

“Captain, it’s Wednesday.”

“Obviously!” That’s part of the issue!

His reaction was absolutely not selling Gene, though, who had moved to block his path.

“Alright, Greener. You want t’ go git food or some shit?”

“Why the hell do you even care?” Morro’s being an ass and he knew it, but he also frankly didn’t care. He wanted a calm day in the park and dammit he was going to get one.

“You’re, like, my best friend’s other best friend. We’re friends by association.” Gingersnap snapped his fingers where they hung at his sides. “Plus, Brad’ll kill me if he knew I didn’t offer.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’re paying?”

“Fuck no, dude, what the hell?”

“I don’t have any money.” A lie, but a necessary one.

A beat passed. Two. Three.

“…Fuckin’, whatever, fine. I’ll pay.”

Free food was free food, even if it meant sacrificing relative peace.

Gene turned on his heel and started walking, straight along the pavement. Morro scrambled to follow.

Five minutes in silence. They walked out and the park and into the greater city.

Another five minutes. He had a distinct feeling they weren’t going someplace specific.

“Gingersnap?”

“Fuckin’, what?”

“Where are we going?”

The idiot stalled, causing Morro to barrel into him, and a third random stranger to head into both of them.

“Sorry,” they mumbled, already sidestepping out of the way.

Dammit did Morro wish he could do that right now. It’d be incredibly convenient to ignore Gene, but, again, free food is free food. Plus he hadn’t eaten yet. Plus there wasn’t a lot of food back where he lived.

So, yeah. Reasons for why he’s here.

Speaking of Gene, he still hadn’t said anything. His brows were furrowed and he stared at the ground.

Wait, that’s concerning, right? Probably?

“Gingersnap?” He tried.

The teen snapped his head up. “Where the fuck are we going?”

“I thought you knew!”

“No, I was following you!”

“I was fucking behind you!”

“No you weren’t, you were—holy shit you were behind me.”

Morro blinked. “You’re so stupid.”

Gene squinted at him in return. “Nah, I’m perfect. Let’s head to Mrs. Donald’s, they’re cheap.”

And so they went, even if they made multiple wrong turns.

(Scratch his original opinion on this man. Gene’s even worse than Brad.)

Knock, knock, knock.

“Coming!”

Morro took a deep breath. Fingers crossed he got the right address.

The door swung open, and a mop of raven hair with its iconic blue streaks popped up. He let out his breath.

Brad grinned. “Morro! You made it!”

Crash!

“Fuck! Hey, Greener!” Gene shouted.

Brad paled and whipped around. “Gene! What the hell did you just break?”

“Nothing!”

“Well, it was clearly something!”

“It’s fine!”

The raven rolled his eyes and stomped into the apartment, pausing just long enough to gesture Morro inside. The teen in question shut the door and shifted in the entryway.

Brad waved his arms around as he scolded Gene for one thing or the next. Gingersnap, on the other hand, was leaning against the wall and very obviously not paying attention. In fact, he was scrolling through something on his phone.

Morro’s eyes widened. Oh, that’s a perfect idea. He pulled out his own device and dialed Gene’s number, pressing call and holding it against his ear.

He watched as Gene’s eyebrows furrowed before he picked up the call.

“Why the fuck are you calling me?”

Morro, because he’s a little shit around his friends, hung up and poorly stifled a laugh.

Gene scowled. “Why the fuck are you here, again?”

“You invited me, dumbass.”

“Shit!” Brad smacked his forehead. “My bad, ‘ro, slip your shoes off and get over here.”

He did as requested, scanning the area all the while.

The place was small, that’s for certain. It was basically all one room. Shelves lined the walls, filled to the brim with green (and the occasional pop of color). Brad’s doing, then, the man loved his plants.

Gene had definitely added some decor, though. A few landscape paintings, a watercolor of Brad, a collage of childhood photos. Any space that wasn’t covered in plants was instead filled with canvas and picture frames.

On the ground, of course, was a broken pot and some soil. Morro glanced over to the counter and sink where, yup, two more broken pots.

“How many times have those things been shattered?”

Brad sighed, deep and long. “Too many.”

“Like, thirteen, I think,” Gene snorted. “I’m starting to lose track. Less than last year.”

“Last year was fuckin’ awful,” Brad leaned dramatically against Morro. “Greenstreak, my pal, my buddy, this fucker keeps ruining my plants.”

“I haven’t knocked over nearly as many as you!”

“That’s so untrue! Morro, tell him it’s not true!”

“Greener, Brad is the clumsiest motherfuckin’ bastard to walk the damn plant! We’re all well aware!”

He hated to agree, but, “Sorry, Brad, Gingersnap's right.”

Brad gasped and flopped away and onto the (incredibly messy) couch. “You prick! You betrayer! How could you?”

“How could I not?”

His best friend scowled, apparently content to ignore his retort.

Morro took the opportunity to further explore the apartment. The ‘kitchen’ was a wreck, with one island and a mountain of dishes. Laundry littered the floor in certain spots and a pile of video game cases climbed the wall like vines. There were three other doors in the whole place; a bathroom, a bedroom, and a closet. He assumed they’d all be in a similar state of disarray.

It was fitting of Brad and Gene’s personalities, honestly. The entire place had a very specific “lived-in” feel that the Air Temple didn’t. Homey, in an odd manner.

Having said that, it was also a fucking wreck that he was absolutely going to clean one day. New goal, in fact. Clean the hell out of his friends’ place.

In the meantime, Morro flopped onto the couch opposite to Brad. “So.”

“So?” The other two asked.

He raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. “So what?”

“Oh you whore—”

“Stop making that joke!”

Morro just cackled, letting out a screech when Gene jumped on top of him.

“This is what you get, Greener!”

“Oh fuck you!” He gasped between giggles, stuck in a perpetual state of forced laughter. Tickling isn’t funny. It ruins people.

Gene didn’t stop whatsoever, putting in all the effort. The man was bigger than Morro by a longshot, which was awful because what the fuck wss he supposed to do? Nothing! There was nothing to be done!

“Brad!” He rasped. “Save me!”

Brad, because he sucks and is a bad (great) friend, flipped him off. “You betrayed me.”

Yeah, wait a second! Morro defended Gene! Why the hell did Gene even jump on top of him?

Apparently, the other two had the same train of thought.

“You’re right, Brad, he helped me. Really, I should be fucking up you.”

Brad paled. “No, no, no! Go back to tickling Morro! Don’t—”

His attempts were entirely futile, because both Morro and Gene made a mad dash to see who could cause Brad to laugh the loudest. He kicked and fought and yelled, surely getting someone called, but to no success.

Morro and Gene absolutely won that fight, for the record. Morro was completely out of breath by the end of it but he fucking won. Gene agreed, claiming they were both “perfect and should never change.” Brad flipped the two off again and walked into the kitchen.

“Morro, what kind of tea do you want?”

He blinked. “There’s more than one kind?” Wu had always served the same plain blend.

Brad squinted at the open cabinet. “We have blueberry, raspberry, ginseng, sleepytime, green tea, green tea with lemon, green tea with lemon and honey, liver disaster, ginger without honey, vanilla almond, white truffle, blueberry chamomile, vanilla walnut, constant comment, and earl grey.”

Gene’s hand shot up. “Can I have sleepytime?”

Morro stared dumbfounded. “You made some of those up.”

“Nope! I’ll make you vanilla almond, that’s what I’m having.”

Five minutes later a steaming cup of liquid was set in front of him. It looked… good. A nice light brown, not quite transparent but not solid.

He took a long sip.

And then immediately started choking from the heat.

“Fuck—” Morro gasped, coughs racking his body. Gene cleared the cup away and wiped up what had dribbled while Brad hovered around him, waiting for things to take a turn.

Luckily, it was just Morro being an absolute dumbass. He was fine. Genuinely.

Finally settling down calmly and comfortably, Gene sprung the question.

“Alright, Greener, this is it. Thoughts?”

“I hate it,” Morro laughed. “It’s everything I expected.”

Gene slugged his arm. “And that means what, exactly?”

“It means he’s goin’ to clean the damned thing! Trust me!” Brad chimed in, speaking from experience.

What can he say? Their shop was also a wreck sometimes. Who cares if he snags a broom from the back on occasion?

“Does this mean we have a free maid?” Gene grinned, toothy and wide.

“Absolutely no—”

Brad cut him off with a cackle. “Yes! Go get the dress, Geney, and see if it fits!”

“Why the fuck do you already have a maid dress?” Morro was appalled, and yet, at the exact same time, not at all surprised.

“Don’t worry about it, man,” Gene giggled, before disappearing and reappearing with said outfit.

Oh, there was no way in hell he was wearing that.

(And if Gene somehow got a good enough image of him in it to paint it, then, well. Not Morro’s problem.)

“Okay, Morro, where the hell are we going?” Lloyd said, being dragged along by the black-haired teenager.

Morro glanced back with a small grin. “Corner Café.”

Lloyd knew where that was, but that didn’t help his confusion at all. The Corner Café was just a little shop, nothing special. He’d been once or twice with Kai.

Did Morro really just want to take him out to get coffee? He seemed so excited the past few days after Lloyd had agreed. Surely something bigger was happening.

Right?

They arrived at the front door of the place. Lloyd, in a last-ditch attempt to figure out what was happening, froze before Morro could open it.

“Morro, dude, there’s no way you’re just taking me out for coffee.”

Morro turned fully around, confusion etched in his features. “What?”

Lloyd raised an eyebrow. “What’s so special about this place specifically?”

“This place specifically…” he trailed off. Then, realization dawned in his eyes. “Oh. Oh! Yeah, no, we’re not here for drinks, we’re meeting my friend.”

If Lloyd had the aforementioned coffee in his mouth, he would have spat it all out. A friend? Morro, his teammate, the one who got skittish in fucking grocery stores, had a friend? And Lloyd hadn’t known?

“I—what—you actually—I—what—” Lloyd sputtered, desperately trying to get his thoughts in line. “You have a friend?”

“What? Of course I do!” Morro scoffed in mock offense. “Now come on, this is, like, the only time this place is empty enough to talk.”

Lloyd, too shocked to protest, let himself be led into the empty café.

A barista with ginger hair and round glasses looked up at their entrance. “Oh, shit, you actually came.”

“Obviously I came, Gingersnap,” Morro rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Greener.”

They have nicknames for each other? This is seriously weird. But, that means that this must be Morro’s friend, so. At least the kid seemed mostly nice? Based on his… nine or so words?

Morro scoffed again, gesturing to the once-green streak of hair. “Can’t you see the purple, dumbass? I’m trying out a new look.”

The other teenager wiped his hands on a rag and hopped over to sit on the countertop. Quite unsanitary, in Lloyd’s opinion.

“My bad, would you rather be called Grapefruit? Or should I take a number and call you ‘Mr Vampire’.”

“What?” Lloyd croaked.

The ginger cackled, a sound that was eerily familiar in a way that he couldn’t place.

Morro, on the other hand, groaned. “Don’t you fucking start, too, being a ghost is very different from a vampire, asshole.” His tone was friendly, like this was a conversation he’d had a trillion times.

“He knows?” Lloyd all but screeched. What the hell. Morro had a friend, and that friend knew he was a ghost, but also thought he was a vampire? Hello?

Another voice joined the conversation. “Oh come on, ‘ro, we all know being a vampire is so much fuckin’ cooler than—”

This new arrival had black hair with a few blue streaks, as well as several piercings. He’d stopped short at the sight of Lloyd.

“Holy shit,” he breathed. “No way. No fucking way.”

Morro’s gaze bounced nervously between the two. “Is there, uh, is there a problem?”

“A problem…?” He echoed. “No. No! I just didn’t expect your cousin to be him, is all.”

The ginger haired teen raised an eyebrow. “Do you know this kid?”

The other—wow, Lloyd really needed names for these two, this was confusing—snapped his eyes over. “Do you not recognize him?”

“…No?”

“You stole his shit, like, four times in the same week! I had to make you give it back!”

Who the hell are these kids, and when could they possibly have stolen (and subsequently given back) Lloyd’s belongings?

Morro snorted. “Dude, I’m willing to bet your entire paycheck that Gene had stolen a lot of people’s shit. Be more specific, I beg of you.”

That name, that name, why was it so familiar to Lloyd? He didn’t know anyone other than the Ninja. Maybe a kid he helped one time? But that didn’t explain the stealing.

“At Darkley’s, you fucking dumbasses. There’s no way you don’t recognize Lloyd Garmadon in the goddamn flesh.”

Morro’s eyes widened first. “The boarding school you both grew up at was fucking Darkley’s?”

Darkley’s? Darkley’s Boarding School for Bad Boys? These kids went there? They looked Lloyd’s age, could he have known them?

He squinted at the teen with blue hair.

“Oh my gods,” he muttered. “Brad Tudabone?”

The teenager—Brad, apparently—grinned. “Hell fucking yes it is.”

Gene and Morro groaned in usion.

“You have to be kidding me,” Gene said.

“I can’t fucking believe you know them,” Morro ran a hand down his face. “The only other people I know and you still find a way to know them! What the fuck, man!”

“Small world?” Lloyd asked sheepishly.

Brad took a few steps closer. “You look… wow.”

Lloyd looked at him, really looked at him. Brad Tudabone—the kid who put fire ants in his bed and then became his first friend—was standing, alive, with a job.

“You dyed your hair,” Lloyd observed.

“You’re still dyeing yours,” Brad replied.

“You dye your hair?” Morro exclaimed.

Gene finally joined them, completing the group. “Don’t you, like, live together? How’d you not know?”

“I don’t know! Is it so bad to assume he’s a natural blond?”

“Morro and Cole both dye their hair black,” Lloyd blurted.

Morro groaned and Brad and Gene burst into laughter.

“Of fucking course he does! Hey, vampire boy, you emo enough yet?” Gene slugged Morro in the shoulder, who doubled over to groan louder.

“This was a mistake, I’m up against three Darkley’s kids, this is horrible, I swear to the fucking Gods—”

Lloyd joined in the giggles, watching his so-called cousin dramatically bemoan about the effects of bullying on impressionable teens.

“Okay, okay,” Brad said between breaths. “Okay. You guys want anything to drink? We can properly catch up, then. On the house.”

Morro perked up instantly. “Well if you insist, I’ll have my usual.”

Gene punched him again. “I’ll give it to Lloyd for free, but you gotta pay, Grapefruit.”

“Gingersnap! How dare you embarrass me in front of my dear old cousin?”

“You do enough of that yourself, ‘ro,” Brad said. He grabbed Lloyd’s sleeve and tugged him over to the counter. “What do you want?”

“I couldn’t honestly ask you to get us free stuff,” Lloyd admitted. “Let me pay for something, please.”

Brad waved his hand. “Don’t even worry about it. Morro brought you as a guest, I’ll make you whatever you want.”

The duo were completely oblivious to the other two, who were now whispering on the opposite side of the store.

“They used to have the biggest crushes on each other back in the day,” Gene said.

Morro glanced at him. “Holy fuck. We have to set them up.”

“Oh abso-fucking-lutely,” Gene nodded. “They’ve got two wingmen now.”

“…What’s a wingman?”

Gene punched him again.

Back at the counter, Lloyd decided to get a cookies and cream milkshake.

“Still got a sweet tooth, eh?” Brad grinned.

Lloyd rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah, still do.”

“Gene does too, but don’t tell him I told you.”

Lloyd chuckled. It felt good, especially after the past few months.

“Speaking of… hey, Gene!” Brad called.

They looked over to Gene, who was trying (and failing) to wrestle Morro into a noogie.

“Llooooyd, heeeelp,” Morro whined. “I’m being bullied!”

“Serves you right, vampire boy!”

“I’m an ex-ghost! Not a vampire!”

“Either way, you’re fucking old as time.”

Brad sighed. “Every day I regret introducing them to each other.”

Lloyd snapped his head back. “You introduced them?”

“Oh, yeah, unfortunately it was all me,” he smiled fondly. “I gave Morro my number after meeting him ‘cause he looked cool, and we hit it off, so I introduced him and Gene when he came over one day.”

“He went to your house?”

“Apartment, but yeah? Did you not know?” Brad seemed genuinely confused.

“No! I had no idea!”

Brad laughed, a nice, musical sound. It was the same from when they were kids, just a bit deeper, a bit wiser.

“Wait, wait, let me get this straight,” Lloyd gestured to Morro and Gene. “You and Morro met, became friends. Probably since you work here. And you and Gene live together? So he met Morro too?”

“Pretty much, Gene works here too, but didn’t really care for our local vampire until they met more formally. And, well, you can see how that worked.”

Lloyd gazed back at the two, who were still fighting playfully. It reminded him of his brothers, actually. He’s glad to see Morro having people like that.

“Why do you guys keep calling him that?” He wondered aloud.

“Calling him what?”

“A vampire.”

Brad chuckled again. “Because he couldn’t text for shit when we met, the old man. But he looked like a teenager, so I called him a vampire until he cracked about the whole ghost thing.”

“So the ghost thing doesn’t bother you?”

Brad gave him a hard look. “I grew up in Darkley’s, man. I’ve met worse people. He tried to take over the world, failed, and then got better. Can’t ask for much else these days.”

Lloyd hummed. That much was true. Watching Morro grow as a person these past few months—grow from being someone to be afraid of to being someone Lloyd confidently called his teammate and occasionally his cousin—had been a trip. He’s gone a long way.

Lloyd’s really, really proud of him.

Morro and Gene made their way back over, the former swinging an arm over Lloyd’s shoulder.

“Okay, I’m going to ignore that you fuckers already know each other and introduce you as I had planned, so shut the hell up.”

Brad, who had not been talking, raised an eyebrow.

“Great. Knew you’d get it,” Morro grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Greeny, meet the idiots I can my friends, Weird Barista and Gingersnap. Weird Barista and Gingersnap, meet my dear old baby little cousin, Greeny.”

“I have a name, you know,” Lloyd pouted.

Morro ruffled his hair. “And I think that proper names are stupid.”

“Wait,” Gene twitched. “You call me my real name all the time.”

“Exactly,” Morro smirked.

Gene lept for him again, and Lloyd sidestepped out of the way before he got caught in the middle. Wow, definitely like his brothers, those two. Comforting, but a bit terrifying to watch. Especially considering that they were on the floor of a public space.

Thank Grandfather it was empty.

Brad, to his credit, just sighed and shook his head. “Gene!” he shouted.

“I’m busy!”

“What do you want to drink?”

Gene paused for a moment, which was enough to give Morro the upper hand. The two rolled over and Morro started tickling the ginger, who swatted at him and cursed between giggles.

“Fuck—you—ack! Something—somethin’ with—matcha—”

Brad nodded and got to work making drinks behind the counter. With a hint of awe, Lloyd watched as he moved in a practiced manner. Starting one machine here, pouring milk there, adding matcha powder somewhere else; it was cool.

Then, he glanced back over at the boys fighting on the floor. Morro, being smaller than Gene, had lost the advantage once more and was desperately trying to keep a straight face. Gene was grinning like a madman.

“Should we help them?” Lloyd asked.

Brad shook his head sagely. “No. You’ll get ganged up on, trust me.”

Lloyd snorted. “Speaking from experience?”

“Yes,” he groaned. “It fucking sucks. I hate them.”

“Oh, hey, give me some of those,” Lloyd said, grabbing two of the now-finished drinks from Brad. Upon doing so, he abruptly realized how much taller he was. He must’ve been the same height as Kai.

“Awesome, thanks. You wanna head someplace else? Me and Gene can leave pretty much whenever, so,” Brad offered, a smile growing onto his features.

“How’d you manage that?”

Brad’s smile grew, but this time filled with pride. “Owning a shop has its perks.”

Lloyd felt a smile growing too. “Are you kidding? That’s awesome! I’m happy for you guys!”

Brad’s face morphed to be a bit more sheepish; a bit embarrassed at the praise. “I, uh, yeah! Both our parents taught us about business practices, so they were good for something, you know?”

Lloyd hummed in acknowledgement.

“Brad! Help me!” Gene screamed from where he was once again trapped underneath Morro.

Brad set his drinks on the countertop and signaled Lloyd to do the same. ‘Safety precaution,’ he mouthed.

“Braaaad!”

“Absolutely not!”

“Lloyd?” Gene asked hopefully.

Morro fought with a renewed vigor. “Oh fuck no, you ass, that’s my friend.”

Gene froze, and then smirked, whispering something into Morro’s ear, who stopped and matched the expression. He stood and helped Gene up.

Brad’s face paled. “Oh. Oh no.”

The two teenagers beelined for Brad. He yelped and dragged Lloyd around the shop.

Well, this is quite the predicament. What he assumed was going to be a simple outing had turned into old friends and being chased.

…Actually, the second part was sort of typical. The first part wasn’t, but hey, what’s another new experience?

“Lloyd! Help me!” Brad screeched.

“He can’t do anything, Barista Boy!” Morro called in return, gaining on the two with a speed Lloyd was well aware of.

“Barista Boy?” Lloyd found himself saying. “What kind of nickname is Barista Boy?”

“It makes me sound like a superhero! Keep fucking using it!” Brad cheered.

A hand snagged the back of his shirt.

“Fuck off!” Brad yelled, but alas, it was too late.

Gene was on top of him with a look that was exactly the same as when they were kids, glint in his eyes and all.

Suddenly, Lloyd was eight years old and playing with his friends. Suddenly, his biggest problem was what prank he wanted to pull.

The ginger attacked his sides and Lloyd erupted into a fit of giggles, all the while trying to push him off. It was futile; Gene was larger and had the advantage. The only way Lloyd would get out of this would be with powers, which he didn’t really want to use.

“Take this, you fuckin’ Goldilocks!” Gene cheered, grin matching Lloyd’s own.

“Oh fuck off, you shitfaced bastard,” the blond retorted without malice.

Morro froze from the corner of his eye. “You fucking cuss? Since fuckin’ when?”

Gene barked a laugh. “Goldilocks here used to have a dirtier mouth than me!”

“He grew up with the fuckin’ language of a sailor,” Brad agreed.

Lloyd used the temporary distraction to free himself from Gene. “Yes, I curse, yes, I have for a long fuckin’ time, now fuckin’ run!” He grabbed Brad’s wrist, grabbed two of the drinks, and sprinted out of the store. Shouts from their respective housemates followed suit, but he had the element of surprise on his side.

“That was fucking awesome, man!” Brad whooped, diving around people and keeping up with Lloyd quite well.

The Green Ninja took a sip of his drink. “Hell yeah it was. What, didja think I got rusty?”

A flash of teeth, another giggle. “Never in my life!”

They ran for a couple blocks (damn, Lloyd didn’t realize Brad nor Gene would have that much endurance), before collapsing in the grass at a park. All four were well and properly spent from their unexpected workout.

“For the record,” Morro panted. “Gingersnap and I won.”

Gene gave a shaky thumbs up, face so red that Lloyd was a tiny bit concerned. If the smile on every inch of his features meant much, though, then he was fine.

“No you didn’t,” his partner in crime groaned. “Lloyd and I did. We outran you guys.”

“But we caught you in the end.”

Lloyd, who clearly had the most stamina of all of them, rolled his eyes. “You only caught us ‘cause I goddamn let you, dumbass.”

Morro—because his kind of sort of cousin is absurdly mature—stuck his tongue out. Lloyd stuck out his right back.

“I fuckin’ hate you,” he said.

Impulsively, Lloyd responded with, “Love you too, you bitch.”

Once he realized what he said, though, his face immediately started to heat. It was definitely red from exhaustion and not from embarrassment. An apology was stopped before it could tumble out of his mouth.

“Love you too, or whatever the fuck.” Morro sat up on his elbows. “We’re addressing that later. Now, though, where’s my drink?”

“Right here!” Brad reached over the cups, but—

“Oh, shit!” Gene was already up, napkins pulled out from only the First Master knows where. He tipped the plastics upright and uselessly dabbed at the grass.

Brad pulled his arm away. “Hey, don’t worry about it, it’s all good.”

“But you spent so long!”

“He makes those drinks all the time, Gene, you’re fine,” Morro reassured, joining the duo and effectively creating a trio.

Lloyd watched, genuinely glad to see them all together. Sure, Morro was getting along great with everyone at home, but it wasn’t and wouldn’t be the same. Most of the Ninja and Morro had to go from hating to caring, which wasn’t easy in the slightest. Here, he could skip just to being a slightly normal teen. It was nice.

He closed his eyes and laid against the grass. The wind flew past, covering the quartet like a blanket. Mere months ago, it would’ve been oppressing.

(Now, it was simply a reminder of how things change.)