ninjago imagines

red light, awakening | jay w.

The lights are broken again.

It's the middle of night, when the moon has retreated to the clouds and it's just dark enough for the sea to look like part of the ground, ripples parting through the land lke an alluring red (well, blue) carpet, adorned with foaming waves. 

Easy enough for someone to stagger along the border of seaweed and sand and cold, dragging pulls of ice cold water, catch their feet in unevenly knotted nets, disappear into the sea and never have anyone notice. (except her. maybe.)

Jay sighs, and drops the rope in his fist, running a hand through his hair to shake out the crusted saltwater. It'd be easier to duck into a shower, let the fresh water run across his back and wash out the thoughts soaking into him for the past few days, and call the electrician in the morning. 

There aren't any ships in the area, and it's not like anyone ever really needs the light anyway. (Lighthouses, his dad tells him, are like stop signs of the sea. They bring lost sailors home, and away from rocks that'll dash their ships to a million pieces.)(come home)

But. But it's not like he's going to sleep, not properly, at least, and this is how he ends up on top of a lighthouse at three in the morning, a half-empty tool box upended over the floor, and way too many nails scattered around like a crappy version of a Home Alone booby trap.

He leans back on his heels, a broken screwdriver digging into his palm where he clutches it, a mess of wires curled at his feet, and seriously reconsiders his career as a lighthouse keeper.

"They really should be giving more credit to those guys," Jay says aloud to no one in particular, not that there's even anyone to hear, but he feels a little better hearing his own voice echo in the room. It's still a solid two weeks before he needs to ship out to get any supplies, and he doesn't need to add insanity to his list of growing issues. He pushes himself off his knees with a exhale, a dull stab of pain shooting up his back (wow, he should probably be getting in more exercise), and carries on tinkering, sending up lighting strands to flicker and hang around the room as he works.

The light snaps on, bright as the sun, and blows out just as quickly as it flares, leaving a glowing circle in his vision and a suspicious buzzing in the wires he really has to fix. The box makes a few more half-hearted attempts at sparking up before completely going black, and Jay decides to give up, kicking the toolbox to the side as he draws up a crackling handful of electricity to illuminate the stairwell back down.

It's quiet as he descends, each step careful and firm as to not tumble down the hollow grave. It gapes wide in the middle, his very own little stairway of hell, and he thinks about pitching into the depth and letting his bones shatter into thousands of pieces, sharp as shards of glass and just as fragile.

Yeah, Jay's gotten pretty good at being in his own head. He blinks away the thoughts, vision winking in and out against his raw eyelids, and fuck, when's the last time he drank water?

He swallows and it tastes like grains of glass against his throat, waves of blood washing into shore, over and over.