~ Part 17 ~ | Waving Goodbye

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** Slipping Through My Fingers (ABBA) **

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"Slipping through my fingers all the time
I try to capture every minute
The feeling in it
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Do I really see what's in her mind?
Each time I think I'm close to knowing
She keeps on growing
Slipping through my fingers all the time."

~ ABBA

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This chapter is dedicated to my best friend Dee for being dead tired and then suddenly super hyper so I started writing a whole new chapter at midnight. 😂

(comment or PM if you'd like a shoutout!)

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WARNING: some serious discussions about morals when protesting, leading to very mild self harm. The character self harming wasn't doing it as a coping mechanism but rather to prove a point.

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"Why do you go to all those protests?"

There was a chuckle as warm brown eyes looked over to the figure that had appeared beside him. He wasn't at all phased by the scrunched brow, narrowed stare, and pouty scowl. He'd come to recognize it as the child's usual expression. This time though, the kid had a spark of curiosity so familiar it excited him.

"I want to make a difference in the world." The man answered honestly.

The child tilted his head, the intense gaze never leaving. "A difference?"

"Yes," The man smiled. "Sometimes there are rules I make that you disagree with, right? Like bedtime. It's the same here. There are rules in the world that I disagree with. The protests are how I, and many people, try and change those rules. Like when you find reasons to make your bedtime later."

The child scrunched his nose for a moment as he thought. The man could practically see the wheels turning in his head. He couldn't hide his smile when the boy finally worked it out and gave a little huff. The sharp exhale made the long dark hair in front of his eyes flutter.

"I want to make a difference too." The little boy spoke carefully with the same amount of firmness as someone three times his age.

The man laughed. A fondness bloomed in him. It was greater than anything he's ever felt before. He saw himself in this child. The same drive, the same ambition, the same burning urge to make his mark. It was like looking in a mirror.

"I think you'll do great things, Morro." The man said, his tone filled with pride and confidence.

Brilliant green eyes looked towards him. The glint was dangerous but that's what made it all the more thrilling.

****

"I don't..." Cole ran his finger along the painting, feeling out the ridges of each brush stroke. "Who is this?"

Nelson clutched onto Cole anxiously. "Is Rodrigo right? Is that boy haunting us?"

The tall boy shook his head and didn't answer, his mind whirling as he bent and squinted at the picture, in hopes of finding answers. The frame was ornate, made of light cedar wood and carved into waves and dragons along the side. It had been painted over with gold but the metallic paint was flaking off, revealing the bright tone beneath. At the very bottom of the art piece were two names written on a metal plaque. The letters were a little faded and the sip of metal was rusting but Cole could read it loud and clear.

Wu and Morro Garmadon

Cole blinked in surprise, a million questions floating in his mind as he looked back at the two figures. The two didn't look related. Wu had dusty blonde hair and warm almond-shaped eyes. His cheekbones were high and his skin was a little tan. While Morro had much bigger gaunt eyes and a very pale complexion. If he was biologically connected to Wu then he must take after someone else. Cole wasn't particularly concerned about that part. People can often look very different from their families. But what Cole's mind was stuck on was the name, Morro Garmadon, insinuating that Wu was a father.

The headmaster had always been very mysterious. He didn't like to dwell on the past and it was obvious that family was a little messy for him (cough cough Garmadon) but Cole would have thought Wu would've mentioned being a parent. He always seemed proud and fatherly towards Lloyd. Wouldn't he want his nephew to have a cousin? Wouldn't he bring in every positive influence he can find for Lloyd to embrace?

"Has Wu ever talked about a Morro to you?" Cole asked. When Nelson shook his head he sighed. He wasn't expecting the boy to know. If Wu hadn't told the older students he certainly wouldn't talk to a blabbering kid. If anyone knew about Morro, it would be Lloyd, Cole thought to himself.

How had Lloyd gotten ahold of that sweater anyways? Cole thought back as much as he could. He remembered the soft snip of blades as Lloyd squirmed nervously in a chair. The boy had clearly been uncomfortable with putting his appearance in Nya's hands. He recalled the smell of dust and mothballs and Jay's content sigh. Cole envisioned Kai's confused expression as he looked at the crude scribble on the side of the box.

"Uh... here's one labelled tomorrow, whatever that means."

Cole's eyes widened. None of them had been particularly good at reading Wu's penmanship, as tidy as the man seemed he really needed to work on his printing. To add to it, Kai wasn't the best reader to begin with. Once Kai messed up an assignment because he had mixed up "doe" with "dough." It made for an interesting presentation on pizza in the middle of a biology unit. What if the brunette had mistaken "To Morro" for "tomorrow!"

"Cole?" Nelson's little voice brought him out of his thoughts. The young man looked at him, a strange look in his deep brown eyes as he stared intently at the name on the painting.

His brows furrowed in determination. "Kid, I'm going to need you to help me find a box."

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"Wu?"

The old man couldn't help but jerk up with a gasp. His eyes flew wildly around the room, searching for a boy shuffling into the room with bright green eyes and a new question on his serious lips. Before his brain could even finish painting that picture in his mind the fog cleared away just as the sun tears through clouds. The beautiful memory he conjured in his head was taken from him in the blink of an eye and Wu was faced with guilty disappointment when black turned to blonde and pale turned peach.

Lloyd watched him in concern from the doorway, leaning a little on the frame as he peered in. "Are you okay?" He asked softly.

Wu cleared his throat, shoving aside the grief working its way up his throat and forcing a smile. "You just startled me, nephew. Do you need something?"

"Well..." he hesitated before stepping into the room. Wu's brows rose in surprise as more people trailed in.

They all marched in single file, with Misako entering with Lloyd and coaxing everyone in. They all wore serious expressions varying from anger (Kai) to concern (Zane). Cole joined last, a stained old box resting in his arms and a strange mix of nervousness and determination set in his jaw. The students lined up in front of Wu's desk. After Misako nodded to him, the broadest of the group stepped forward and placed the box on his desk. Wu looked at her for answers but she just glanced at Lloyd.

"Is everything alright?" Wu said carefully.

"Uh... well Jay and Nya mentioned you were a bit- let's say off earlier," Lloyd began. His voice started a little high as it did whenever he was uncomfortable. "Then Cole came down saying he wanted to talk to you about something... about someone."

The headmaster's eyes widened and his gaze flicked to the box where all-too-familiar handwriting was scribbled on the side. His breathing began to quicken and his muscles locked up, sensing his urge to run.

They knew, was all his brain could lock into. They knew about him. They knew and they wanted answers.

But what would happen when they got those answers?

A warm hand gently took his and Wu looked up to see Misako watching him with a sad smile. "It's time, Wu." She whispered.

The teacher closed his eyes. He'd known it would come up eventually. One, because this group of kids were particularly nosey and two, because this group of nosey kids were his group of nosey kids. They'd become family to him, people that he trusted more than he trusted anyone else in the world. Part of that trust meant revealing the good and the bad. The clean and the dirty parts of his past. Even the ones that sprang up to open old wounds.

Because maybe, just maybe, they'd be able to help old injuries heal even better than they had before.

"I think I speak for us all when I ask," Cole spoke up softly. "Who is Morro Garmadon?"

***

A loud crash echoed through the room. Shattered pieces of porcelain were scattered all over the ground, the little shards shimmering in the dim lighting. A young man stood in the centre of the mess, his body visibly trembling with overflowing emotion as he stared at the ceramic scattered over the wooden floor. The only sound in the now quiet air was his laboured breathing.

"Why," the boy growled. "Why didn't it work?" The last words escalated into a yell as his hands flew to his dark hair, pulling at the strands. He released another scream. It was loud and horrible and ragged. Full of raw rage and hurt as he let out all the emotion inside of him in one sound.

It should have worked. Why won't people listen? Why won't anyone take me seriously? The young man thought as he glared at the remains of the teapot he'd just broken.

"Morro?" A gentle voice said, there was the soft sound of footsteps as a pair of sandalled feet came into view. The boy didn't look up. He just continued glaring at the ground stubbornly.

"All that time, all those protests and petitions and the speeches have done nothing." Morro seethed. His voice was low and dangerous. The newcomer didn't reply. "What is the point of fake smiles, wise words, and making compromises when the people in charge won't even give you the time of day?"

"Just because our movement didn't get us what we wanted, when we wanted, doesn't mean that it's over." The words were as careful as always but the tone was firm. Morro's head shot up, acidic green eyes glaring into kind brown ones.

"If you think that we made any progress then you're naive." Morro spat. "Trying again won't do anything. We'll just fade away into the background until no one can hear us anymore."

The older man frowned, his brow pulling tighter. "Just because results don't come right away doesn't mean there hasn't been any progress. It isn't naive to think that over time things will improve."

Morro chuckled, the laughter was cold and mocking. "I'm tired of all your empty promises, Wu." He said at last. His voice was regretful. "I'm tired of people looking over me. I'm tired of valid rights being ignored. I'm tired of staying quiet."

Wu shook his head. "You've been a part of so many peaceful protests, you've reached out to so many people? How have you ever been quiet?"

Morro shook his head and stepped forward through the shards. "That's just it," he said quietly. His voice was gravelly and determined. His expression had an eerie calmness to it, a sharp contrast to the rage that had been in it previously. "Peaceful protests? Reaching out, not pulling in? That is what's been holding us back. We've let these restrictions help them turn away from us. It's time we've forced them to glance back."

"These 'restrictions' are what's been grounding us," Wu replied sternly. "If we don't put some boundaries on ourselves then we're no longer simple protesters fighting for change but criminals- even terrorists if we let things go too far. Shouting with caution isn't holding back it's being aware of how things can get out of hand."

The look in Morro's eyes didn't change. He knelt and picked up a small piece of porcelain, the sharp section gleamed warningly in the light. Wu didn't move, he just stared as the young man continued. "If you shout what you say they'll only silence you. And if they silence you well... the only way they'll see you is if you write your message in fire." Morro gripped the ceramic harder, making it dig into his fingers until a trickle of blood rolled down his thumb.

"Stop!" Wu exclaimed, unable to hold back anymore. Morro released the shard and it fell smoothly, hitting the space between them with a shink before it splintered into three more parts.

"See?" Morro raised an eyebrow. "People will only face the truths when they're pushed."

The older man squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again. What was once an innocent boy, with spirit and a beautiful will for change had become a dangerous young man with a hunger in him all too similar to his brother's.

"Where have I gone wrong?" Wu whispered. Morro seemed taken aback. The smug calmness washed away into bewilderment as Wu looked at the boy with sad eyes. "Somehow along the way I had steered you onto the wrong path. I'm so sorry."

"What are you-"

"Morro, I can't allow you to be a part of the protests anymore." The man told him, his voice full of regret. "I hereby relieve you of your duties as Vice President of the movement."

"What?" Emerald fire flared in his gaze. "You can't do that!"

"This moment is a strictly peaceful one," Wu stepped forward, looming over Morro with a stone-cold stare he'd never seen before. "If you think that violence is the answer then you can no longer be a part of it. That's not what I want. And that's not what the world needs."

Morro stared at him. His chest moved rapidly and his eyes became wild as he staggered back. "You're the same as the rest of them," Morro clenched his jaw and smiled through his teeth. "As soon as things get serious you run away. As soon as someone speaks up, you push them away." His face set as a choice was made in his head. "How can I live with someone like that?"

Wu's eyes widened with shock as Morro turned away. The young man entered his room, the loud sound of drawers being opened and bags being unzipped causing a pit of dread to form in the blonde's stomach. When the teenager came out he was wearing a dark jacket, two bags thrown over his shoulder and a pillow under his arm.

"Morro," Wu breathed. "What are you doing?"

"I'm leaving," Morro stated, his chin lifted defiantly. "You can renovate my room to use as an office. If you finally open that school you want so badly you'll need somewhere to work."

"I know you're upset," Wu said carefully. "But you don't need to leave. We need to talk about it, let me explain-"

"I've heard all of your lectures and I've sat in on all of your lessons," Morro interrupted. "And all they've ever done is teach me that silly little pep talks aren't enough. The little things you think make a difference barely even scratch the surface and only a coward and a fool would let people believe that it would do anything."

Wu didn't let himself rise to the bait. All he could focus on were the bags stuffed full in his arms. Morro was leaving him. His son was leaving him. "At least take this," Wu said, his voice soft and sad as he went to the coat tree and pulled out a soft green material underneath all the clutter that had gathered over the years.

The sweater was worn and well-loved. It had been the first gift Wu had ever given Morro. Back then it had been way too big for him and the faded green had been so bright it was almost blinding. Morro had hugged it tight to his chest, a beautiful smile on the little boy's face as he considered Wu family for the first time. The piece of clothing had been looked at with joy. Now Morro stared at it with disdain.

"You're just letting me go?" He curled his lip into a sneer. "No heartfelt words or tearful pleas? I guess that shows how much you care about me." Wu was silent. He only held out the sweater, his expression full of sorrow. It was only met with anger. "I can't believe I ever looked up to you." Morro spat.

The young man opened the door, shoving his way through and marching down the steps with his head held high. Wu followed slowly, each step feeling like he was walking towards hell as he watched the boy open the doors to his car and toss his things in. Morro looked back one last time, green eyes meeting with brown.

"Goodbye, Dad." That was all he said.

Then he drove away.

NOTES******

Okay, there will probably be one or two more chapters? I'm not totally sure. It depends on how well I can wrap this up. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It took me a little bit to write it as I had trouble figuring out how I wanted the flashback scenes to go and how Cole's confrontation would play out.

Writing isn't as simple as writing whatever words come to your head. It's a lot of planning and rearranging so the story flows exactly how you want it. Dialogue can get clunky if you don't write it well and descriptions can become out of place if not done with thought. It's hard and I try my best but I know my writing isn't perfect. I only hope that it's good enough that you all enjoy it!

Have a nice day!

(Sorry for any typos or sloppy writing. I once again wrote this sometime after 1:00 am in the morning)

LuckyBugBooks 🐞