Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

First impressions.

Johnny was never good at those. Which sucked, because that was the most important part of getting to know someone.

And so Johnny didn’t get to know many people.

His mother tried to teach him a million times over how to make a good first impression. She told him how much it mattered. How those first words would make or break his whole life. Maybe she was a bit intense about it, but she had all reason to be.

Laura Lawrence, Johnny's adoring mother, had maybe worse luck than her son did.

Laura tried explaining this to Johnny once, when he was very young, long before those marks would ever appear on his pale skin.

A soulmate. Someone you’re meant to love, cherish, and spend your life with. Someone the universe has designated for you. Everyone has one (that’s the general consensus, anyways) and if you’re so lucky, you’ll even meet them.

But how would you know that’s your soulmate, asked Johnny, eyes full of wonder. All these people in the world. How the hell would you find them?

So Laura held up her slender wrist and told him about soulmarks. Soulmarks, she explained, would appear on your wrist when you turned 10.

What were they, exactly?

A direct quote from your soulmate.

Specifically, the first thing they ever said to you. No, it wasn’t a perfect system, and not everyone found their soulmate, but there was a good lucky part of the population who did.

“And if you don’t?” Johnny's gaze flickered from his mother’s wrist to her eyes, and there was a question he wasn’t asking but was very much implied— so what happened to you?

“You settle,” Laura said with a tender smile, and Johnny was far too naive to notice the way sadness filled her eyes. “A soulmate isn’t everything. I wanted a family, soulmate or not. So I settled for your father, and he gave me you.”

And left. Johnny curled his knees up to his chest. Even when Laura ruffled his blonde hair and kissed his forehead, he couldn’t manage a smile. Soulmates didn’t sound fun. Soulmates didn’t sound nice.

Soulmates sounded like missed opportunities and being used and discarded and suffering, alone, forever.

When he met his new stepdad, Johnny looked his mother in the eyes and muttered, “You’re settling again, aren’t you?”

She nodded. Real quick, behind Sid’s back, just for Johnny to see. And in that simple movement, Johnny's hatred for soulmates was set in stone.

══════════════════

Johnny carried this attitude with him throughout his teenage years.

But as time went on, it got harder and harder to judge his mother for settling. He tried to be optimistic (oh, those were the days! Back when reckless positivity was even a concept for him!). The mismatches, though, they were getting to him. Over, and over, and over. He'd meet a girl. He'd like her– or more accurately, he entertained the idea of liking her, because second-guessing his feelings became natural. So he’d enjoy her company for a second, but those first words would plague his mind. Because every single time, they weren’t the right ones.

He was tired. And he started to understand his mother. And all of that together mixed into Johnny, sleep-deprived and wishing he was anywhere else, letting his stepdad take him to the country club. Sid had odd ideas about women, most of which were unethical and concerning, and grew Johnny's contempt for him further. According to him, Johnny's chances of picking up a girl, any girl, soulmate or not, would resemble shooting fish in a barrel. Johnny had never held a gun in his life and he hated fish, so he wasn’t sure what that meant.

The country club was terribly boring. And he noticed something, though he dared not say it to Sid. He noticed that he was late. Every single girl there was off chatting with their soulmate. Every single girl there had a soulmate. He did not.

Johnny did, however, have the Cobras.

“This party fucking sucks,” Dutch whispered, grabbing Johnny’s arm.

“Holy shit,” The taller boy gasped, turning around to face his friend. Friends. Plural. Tommy, Bobby, and Jimmy had shown up too.

“Funny catching you here,” Dutch continues, dripping with sarcasm. “But you look like you don’t want to be here. And where you do want to be–”

“—Is at the theater down the road, watching Rocky 3 with us!” Tommy interrupted. Dutch glared daggers at the brunet. Dutch hated being interrupted nearly as much as Tommy loved talking.

But Johnny had to hand it to them both. They were right.

Dutch made a distraction (“accidentally” tripping a waiter as he passed by, sending a plate of appetizers flying) as Johnny snuck out. They waited in the parking lot for a second before Dutch was tossed out of the club, a smirk present on his face.

As it always was. Dutch was not Dutch without that cheeky grin. He wrapped one strong arm around Bobby and one around Jimmy. Tommy grabbed Johnny's hand. They walked like that the rest of the way to the theater.

══════════════════

Johnny had dismissed any call for concern from his friends a while ago. Being in Cobra Kai meant you saw bruises and specks of blood and broken wrists about every other week. You saw your friends become aggressive and snap at you and skip classes and smoke and drink and just, in all senses of the word, change. And you didn’t care because you were changing, too. They weren’t concerned for you, as far as you knew. So you were never really concerned for them.

Except for now, because Johnny was concerned that somebody had taught Dutch that throwing Milk Duds at girls would get them to like you.

Dutch didn’t even have a good enough aim to test that theory, first of all. He kept missing. The girls (there were three, at least one of which Johnny felt like he recognized from school. A cheerleader. Blonde. Maybe they were all cheerleaders, he wasn’t sure) were a few rows ahead of them, and really shouldn’t have been that hard to aim at.

The other Cobras were getting tired of the Dutch's lack of throwing skills. Bobby even offered to throw the Milk Duds himself, just to get it over with, but Dutch grabbed the box as if it would kill him to hand it over. A hushed argument began.

“Oh, I am so glad we’re playing football and not baseball this year. You aim like you’re fucking dyslexic," Bobby spat.

“Football? Aren’t we on the soccer team?” whispered Johnny, biting down on a piece of popcorn.

“Football is what they call soccer in, like…” Bobby took a second to think. “Spain.”

“We’re not in Spain, dipshit, so call it soccer,” Jimmy added. Bobby glared at him.

“Are we ignoring that he called me dyslexic?” They all turned to Dutch, who had been temporarily forgotten, and knew it, and hated it.

“I said you aim like you’re dyslexic.”

“How do you aim like you’re dyslexic?!”

“You aim like you dunno left from right.”

“You think you can do better?”

“I have been trying to get you to let me!”

When the Cobras fought, it was mainly pointless stuff like this. Sometimes all they needed was a smack upside the head to get them back on track, be that literally or metaphorically. Johnny decided to go metaphorically. He snatched a Milk Dud from the box Dutch held and flung it at the blonde girl. He wasn’t really thinking about aim or speed or velocity or whatever his math teacher would go on about.

And it hit her. Bounced right off of her mass of blonde curls and fell to the floor. The aforementioned mass of blonde curls spun around in a flash and glared straight at Johnny. The other Cobras went quiet.

She didn’t say anything at first. Just stared him dead in the eyes as she tried to find the right words.

“Hey, you’re that cheerleader girl, right? Nice to me—“ Dutch started.

“Shut the fuck up,” She responded within an instant, and he did.

But in his silence, Dutch also pulled down his sleeve to glance at his wrist— at his soulmate mark. Johnny cringed internally.

The Cobras never really talked about their soulmate marks. They hardly had experience with girlfriends, much less life partners. Johnny didn’t know how they felt about the whole ordeal, really, but he did notice how at least one of them would always check their wrist after that first meeting. He thought it looked desperate, but he let them be.

“Don’t think I can't see you. I promise you, I am not the girl you’re looking for,” The cheerleader said through gritted teeth. Johnny's eyes widened— so she noticed, too?

══════════════════

Her name was Ali Mills. Johnny learned this when she started talking to him after the movie.

“So is Rocky Balboa hot, or what?”

“What?”

Ali laughed, sitting next to Johnny on the curb outside the theater. “I just thought it’d be funny, if we were soulmates, and you’d had that on your arm all this time.”

“Jesus Christ. Good thing I don’t do that soulmate stuff, then.”

“That makes two of us,” she said, and Johnny turned to look at her.

He’d never met someone his age so disinterested in the soulmarks. His age, he makes sure to specify, because he knows adults who despise them— Sensei Kreese, namely.

(Johnny didn’t question Sensei Kreese. About anything, at all, ever, much less those stupid marks.)

══════════════════

And so Johnny settled for Ali.

Ali was settling, too, she made that very clear. It wasn’t that they didn’t like each other. They did. But they knew they weren’t each other’s soulmates, and they were fine with that.

That was the agreement, anyways, at the beginning. Months went by. They would go on dates, sit in a café, watch as a pair of soulmates discovered each other, listen to the cheers and the clapping, and then look at each other, and think.

Johnny really liked having Ali around. Having her as a girlfriend meant a future that wasn’t lonely. No more waiting around for a soulmate. Just him and Ali, forever. Sure, he’d settled, but for the best possible option. About 2 years in, the thought of finding his actual soulmate was completely irrelevant to Johnny. He had Ali, that was all he needed.

Which was probably why it hurt so much when she broke up with him.

Chapter Text

As he felt the California breeze, Daniel could hardly believe he’d been in Newark just that morning. 

That was the funny thing about moving, right? He ate breakfast back in Jersey, and now he was enjoying the late hours of the night on some beach miles and miles away. Daniel toyed with the thick bracelets around his wrist for a second before tugging his red sleeve over them. The night was bound to get cold, and the crackling fire could only do so much. 

══════════════════

Ali Mills was beautiful, with her blonde curls and her sweet smile. 

Daniel was sure he wasn’t the first to notice. 

He hardly cared, though.

He hadn’t actually said anything to Ali yet. He’d been smiling at her, waving, but he was saving those first words. “The Hills”- that’s how Freddy described her. Living in the hills meant being rich, really rich, apparently. The way Freddy said it, it was as if Daniel didn’t have a chance with her. 

Something about Ali made him want to believe otherwise.

The fog had rolled in by this point, and each group was gathered around their own campfire. Daniel tried focusing on the sausage he was roasting– focus, Daniel, one wrong move and you’re on fire, he told himself. And yet even that threat didn’t pry his mind off of the thought of Ali. It didn't help when Freddy, who had before been idly bouncing the soccer ball on his knee, tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey Danny, hey Danny,” Freddy muttered with a grin, “I think the blonde is looking at you.”

Daniel stood up. “Oh, yeah, right,” was his response, because maybe if he brushed it off he could pretend his legs were not turning to jelly. Why did he stand up, again?

“I'm serious! I think she has the hots for you, man!”

“... Yeah, well, who could blame her, right, Freddy?”

Daniel can’t really be sure where he picked up the (admittedly, genius) strategy of hiding oncoming panic attacks with insane amounts of confidence. He wonders if it's possible to have a good kind of panic attack. Like, he feels like he’s about to pass out, but he’s also thrilled. Terribly nervous, but happy. 

There’s a back-and-forth between him and Freddy, in which the latter is convinced Daniel should make a move, and Daniel would far rather be carried into the ocean and drown. He’s repeating to himself, internally, that he does not for the life of him know how to flirt, that he cannot guarantee he won’t say something stupid or stumble over his words, that he–

And then someone quips that Daniel probably doesn’t have moves where he’s from. Would you believe how powerful of a motivator sheer spite is?

So Daniel’s smiling, assuring them that, yeah, he has moves, and he lets Freddy roll the ball over to Ali’s group. It rolls right next to the fire before it’s tossed right to Ali.

The Universe is on his side, Daniel thinks.

He walks backward, propelled by his newfound confidence, to Ali. He turns around. He's face to face with Ali Mills.

That first moment is considered so crucial. Although Daniel had never really paid much attention to it, he realized then that he wanted, maybe needed, for this to be special. For this to be the moment. 

They’re quiet for a second. 

“Did you lose something?” It's Ali who breaks the silence, the soccer ball held gently in her arms. Her voice is soft and melodic. 

A feeling of warmth washes away any lingering traces of panic. He knows the first moment is over, but he’s realizing that if Ali's speaking to him, maybe every single following moment is just as crucial. 

══════════════════

One of the times Johnny felt most confident was when he was on his motorcycle. 

He’d take off his painted helmet, run a gloved hand through his blond hair, readjust his black headband, let the wind carry him. To onlookers, he must’ve been just a red blur flashing by. To himself, he was a Cobra. 

He was with the other Cobras that night. En route to some party at the beach. This night was going to be different, Johnny told himself. No more getting drunk and passing out with his face against the sand. At that moment, he could faintly hear the waves crashing in the background. If he focused on that, he could ignore the urge to grab the beer from Tommy's hands. 

(It was a warm beer. Johnny hated warm beer, the same way he hated cold pizza and spicy barbeque chips. Probably for the same reason too– they all seemed determined to condemn him to sensory Hell. And yet he’d made a habit of drinking it anyway because sensory issues mattered less when his head was spinning.)

Tommy looks at him, doubtful, and Johnny wishes he didn’t immediately understand why the surprise was directed at him and not Bobby, who also turned down the beer. Maybe if he went to church more, he wouldn’t be profiled as an alcoholic. “What is this, something new?”

“You got it.”

Tommy laughs. “Who’re you kidding? You’re still the ace degenerate!”

“Ex-degenerate, man,” Johnny said. “8am tomorrow, I'm a senior. I got one year to make it all work, and that’s what I'm gonna do. Make it work, all of it.”

If he focused more in that direction, he could’ve probably heard Tommy scoff and look away. But Johnny didn’t. Instead, he turned to Bobby, who gave him just the proudest smile and offered his hand for a high-five.

So naturally, he was focused on that. Bobby had a firm grip. It was gentle, not like he would rip your hand off, not like Dutch. But it was secure.

Bobby was really the most secure of all of them. He had a job– weekends at the little ice cream parlor a few blocks from Johnny's house, which served possibly the best Rocky Road in all of California.

(Bobby wanted to keep that job, so he stopped giving the Cobras free scoops. But if he looked away sometimes when Johnny took an extra spoonful of Oreo topping, hey, that’s nobody’s business.) 

He didn't have a girlfriend, although Johnny thought Bobby would’ve been the best fit of them all to handle a relationship. Bobby didn’t seem to take any interest. And maybe that was a good example because all that time the other Cobras used for dates, Bobby used for studying. Goes without saying he was passing all his classes. 

Bobby had a good family and attitude and was really everything good, everything Johnny was supposed to be.

And Johnny didn’t resent him for it, because he really couldn’t resent Bobby for anything.

They’d been best friends for ages. Their moms had dinner together all the time. Not to say that Laura wasn’t close with Tommy's mom, or Jimmy's, but she had really hit it off with Bobby's. 

She had hit it off with Ali's mom, too. 

Thinking about Ali made Johnny's head hurt. Genuinely. It gave him, like, a mini-migraine. He could feel gears turning, trying to understand what the hell happened, untangling the implications from the actions, the truth from the empty words, all that stupid shit he tried to deny he was thinking about. 

He was actually being stupid about it. He was 17, old enough to admit when he was being a fucking idiot. Not to anyone out loud, but in his own head, Johnny knew he could easily get over it. There were so many other girls in the world.

Not very many other girls who would let him pretend, though.

Ali, in addition to being hilarious, patient, and sweet, had also been an alternative. An excellent alternative, mind you. Johnny trusts– trusted her. It was her, her caring smile and soft hands and perfume that smelled like apples, or a glaring, terrifying unknown. Spending the rest of his life aimlessly wandering, in search of something he was not sure how to find. She used to talk about their future together: graduating top of their class, going to the best colleges, getting an all-American two-story house with a garden and a golden retriever. Johnny wasn’t sure if Ali understood what that meant for him. It was a free ticket to real life. A home he could actually invite people to. Something more than nothing.

He’d almost forgotten they weren’t soulmates. Almost. She’d look towards her wrist sometimes, at the little gaps between her array of jelly bracelets. She didn’t look regretful or wistful, she just looked… curious. She’d space out for a few minutes after that, then kiss Johnny on the cheek and go back to whatever she was doing. Any worry it’d spark in Johnny died down after the affection.

He hadn’t worried. He’d fucked up by not worrying. 

How many ways was it even possible for him to fuck up…?

Maybe that was the question on his mind when Tommy elbowed him. “Hey, you must be a trendsetter, Johnny. Looks like everybody’s doing something new.”

There was a solid five seconds where nobody said anything. For the Cobras, this was a rare occurrence. 

When has ‘get over it’ ever worked? He knew it’d be hard seeing Ali this school year; he figured at least once they graduated they’d probably never cross paths again. That was a depressing fate, but it was his and he was used to it. Not this. Not seeing her like this, with–

Who the fuck was that?

Bobby leaned into him, shaking his head. “Hey, Johnny, forget it. It's ancient history.” 

And yet Bobby, in his infinite wisdom, was wrong. The feeling was far from ancient– the feeling burned like an open wound. He pushed Bobby aside. “Who told you, man?”

Johnny had one comfort throughout the past weeks of anger and desolation: Ali would be just as alone as him. He'd hoped as much, anyway. Every miserable feeling that had plagued him, he’d find peace with the thought that she was feeling the same. It was retribution; it was karma; it was…

Fake. all of it. 

The Cobras couldn’t tell if he was blinking away tears once he put on his helmet. 

════════

Daniel was stunned. 

He was literally a deer-in-headlights, thanks to the horde of motorcycles whirring onto the sand. He'd simply gone to retrieve the soccer ball Ali kicked and returned to… whatever this was.

A boy much taller than him leaped off the leading motorcycle, coming towards Ali. Daniel couldn’t see the boy’s face, obscured by the dark helmet. He saw that flashy red jacket he wore, though. Smoke blew in front of Daniel’s face and he felt a pang of nervousness course through him.

Who was that boy? What did he want with Ali?

He stepped closer, and their conversation became clearer to him. “We've been over all this, I don't want to talk, Johnny,” Ali mumbled, her words muffled by the blaring radio in front of her. The boy (Johnny?) reached over to switch it off. 

“Well, I want to talk to you,” he insisted. 

Ali turned the radio back on. Their back-and-forth continued. Daniel was frozen in place, his mind hazy with confusion. One line from Ali caught his attention– “Why don’t you take your little Cobra Kais and get out of here?”

What the hell was a Cobra Kai?

He had little time to question it, because the altercation before him had escalated. Ali stood up, radio in hand, and Johnny grabbed it harshly from her. Daniel winced. They were fighting over it now, their yelling increasing in volume. Daniel's body awoke from its frozen state and he felt himself taking slow steps toward the pair.

And then Johnny threw the radio down. It broke with a soundless crash. 

That's when Daniel ran at him.

Maybe it was a laughable sight, Daniel, lanky, short Daniel, picking a fight with a guy who was properly built and presumably trained. Daniel was not known for his impulse control. And it must’ve been even more laughable when Johnny stepped back quickly and tripped him. Daniel fell face-first into the sand.

He got up and ran at Johnny again.

And down he went after a sharp spin-kick landed right in his stomach. He would’ve keeled over with pain if he hadn’t fallen straight downwards anyway.

Johnny was giving him a look that asked plainly if he was an idiot. Daniel glared right back, with a frail attempt at confidence, but he was sure all it responded was absolutely I am.

Because he had to be, right? Who the hell took up a fight with some random guy on the beach?

Especially not this guy, who looked ready to kill him. Definitely was about to kill him, considering Daniel was down on the sand and defenseless. Or maybe he’d take mercy on him.

Something told Daniel mercy was not on Johnny's mind.

Daniel cursed whatever cruel force drew him to the stranger.

The sand muffled Johnny's footsteps, but Daniel could tell he was approaching. Fear had not yet taken over Daniel’s body, but adrenaline coursed through it. The taller boy loomed over him, casting his shadow on Daniel's (admittedly, pitiful) figure. 

“How about you, hero?” He could hear the smirk in it. “You have enough?”

How about you, hero? How about you, hero? Daniel heard it slam through the walls of his mind, over and over, until sheer rage overtook him. He really didn’t care if he never saw Johnny again– he knew at this moment that he hated him, and would always hate him, and he needed to see him go down bleeding.

(It was a terrifying feeling, one that he’d tried to suppress for ages. One that got him kicked out of multiple classes in elementary school for picking fights and being otherwise restless. He’d always be seconds away from expulsion before his mother pulled the teachers aside and explained. Yes, it’s been hard on all of us, no, he doesn’t really understand… he just knows Daddy’s not coming back. Then they’d be all nice and cautious with him, handly him gently as if he was fragile, about to break, and that angered him more.)

The first thing he felt was the crack of his knuckles against Johnny's nose.

The second thing he felt was regret.

He let the second one pass. He didn’t need it right now.

He positioned his flailing arms carefully in front of him, guarding his face. He tried to remember those karate lessons, those books he’d read, anything. Johnny's blood stained his hand.

And Daniel laughed. A bitter laugh.

“Now we’re even.”

Chapter Text

Johnny has a migraine.

This is half Tommy's fault. He won’t stop recounting the events of the past few hours to Dutch. Which isn’t necessary. Dutch was there. They were all there. But Tommy has a flair for the dramatic and is unnecessarily dramatic, so he keeps going.

The other half is the fault of Daniel LaRusso. 

He learned the kid’s name thanks to Bobby, who always knew these things. Well, Bobby just asked his mother, who was all-knowing and all-powerful (and part of the PTA). She could get all the Cobras up to speed on LaRusso. He was their age, in their grade, and he’d be graduating with them. In their class. In their year. How many ways is there to say I'm stuck with this prick ‘til the day I graduate?

So while Johnny pondered the worth of even graduating at all, Bobby focused on getting dried blood off of his face.

“You didn’t even lose. I'm not sure why you’re upset," Bobby muttered. 

“Supposed to be an easy fuckin’ fight. And it wasn’t.”

“You keep saying that,” Bobby said with a sigh, stepping back. “But, shit, Johnny, wasn’t it? You saw how he went down. Over and over. He landed… maybe one hit on you? That's it? You’re throwing in the towel?”

Johnny curled in on himself slightly. He wasn’t sure how to explain it to Bobby. He wasn’t sure how to explain it to himself, even. It wasn’t the physical fight– well, not entirely, but he sure didn’t like the resounding crack of a fist against his fucking nose. 

It was also– 

It–

He’d never really felt like this after a fight, okay? Emotionally.

Usually, he could keep his emotions in check and think like a Cobra. Strike first, strike hard, no mercy. He'd heard it. He’d said it. 

And yet.

Johnny remembered it clearly. Standing over Daniel, expecting to feel the rush of power and pride and just feeling… empty. like he was doing something wrong. Like it wasn’t meant to go this way. 

How the fuck else would it go, though? He didn’t know Daniel, didn’t intend to know him, and would much rather never face him again, but some horrible thought stuck with him saying wrong, wrong, wrong. 

What was he meant to invite that little shrimp to join Cobra Kai? Ha. Ha. 

No, but seriously. Johnny would’ve loved to dismiss the thought and continue with his day, but Johnny did not have the kind of brain that allowed him to dismiss thoughts. so it lingered. And it begged to know. Who is he, really? Why is he so important? 

Bobby interrupted that train of thought. “You did all this for a girl that’s not even your soulmate.” It was a low whisper.

It stings, but Johnny lacks the strength to retort. He just glares at Bobby. His hand raises to touch his wrist, where he knows the soulmark rests underneath some layered bandages. Bobby shifts uncomfortably for a second– he always gets quiet, and fidgety, when it comes to the soulmarks. or maybe just Johnny's soulmark, in particular. Johnny excuses it because he knows Bobby's just protective of him, of all of them. 

He made a stupid joke once about all the Cobras being each other’s soulmates; they were so close they might as well be. Amid Tommy laughing like an idiot and Dutch punching Johnny's arm, telling him not to joke about “that queer shit”, he saw Bobby with an expression he didn’t know how to explain.

But it was understandable. Bobby never really spoke about the soulmate thing. Everybody talked about it at least once– not Bobby. Even on soulmate’s day, he was far more comfortable on his motorcycle, riding into the murky night with the Cobras. Even when he talked philosophy with Jimmy (a pastime of theirs, being the intellectuals of the group), the latter mentioned once that it was never a topic Bobby entertained.

So it was odd for him to bring it up now, yeah.

There was a hesitant silence between them. Usually, this was a comfortable situation. Right now, it seems… off.

“You okay, Bobby? You didn’t get hit, right?” Johnny leaned back for a moment, putting his head against the couch.

Bobby scoffed. “No. I didn’t show up to fight, I showed up to… I dunno, party, I guess. And now I'm patching you up for the millionth time.”

Maybe the very real undertone of exasperation and frustration would’ve been obvious to anyone else, but Johnny wasn’t ‘anyone else’, so it flew right over his head and he took it as playfulness. He nudged Bobby. “Hey, don’t say it like you hate it. This is your favorite part of every weekend.”

“My favorite part of every weekend is church.”

“Where you go, every Sunday, to get on your knees and thank the Lord above for your very best friend.”

“You are in my prayers, Johnny, but I can promise you that isn’t what I'm saying.”

Johnny let out a laugh. “You’re praying for me? You sound like my mom.” he grinned, looking up at Bobby endearingly.

“Trust me, we’re all praying you get over that girl.'' Bobby gave him a sharp eye roll in response. 

“Fuck you!” Johnny whined, slamming his head into his hands. “I'm trying, okay? Seeing her with that… what’s his fucking name, LaRusso? That didn’t help.”

“Did it help when he punched you in the nose, Johnny?” 

“I can't believe he landed that. I can't believe it. And then he jumps back and y’know what he fucking says to me, Bobby?” 

Bobby doesn’t respond. Johnny keeps going.

“‘Now we’re even!’ Are you kidding me?!" Johnny was pounding his fist against the couch behind him now. “Fucking– motherfucker– little– as if! As if we’d ever be even, no matter how many punches he fucking lands on me– God. Fuck. FUCK!”

Bobby's eyes widened slightly, but not at the exclamation– that was common around Johnny. He had noticed Johnny's wrist. “Hey, your bandages…”

Johnny glanced downwards. All the punching had loosened the bandages around his right wrist.

“Fuck,” Johnny exhaled. “I should change them, anyway.”

Bobby nodded in agreement, getting up and heading for the other room to find fresh bandages. In the meantime, Johnny carefully unwrapped his. They had flecks of blood on them, from… a wound, probably, but Johnny wasn’t keeping track. These bandages didn’t go on for protection. It was mainly for appearances, and… partially to keep him from catching glimpses of his soulmark. 

He tried to avoid the sight of it as he unwrapped it. He knew it was roughly three words– considered unlucky for soulmarks because shorter marks were less recognizable. There were worse cases where people got a “hello” or a “thank you”. So maybe Johnny didn’t have it that bad, in that department.

But Johnny couldn’t avoid the sight of it now.

Three words were marked darkly on his wrist. His soulmark. The words that connected him eternally to his soulmate, his future, the one he’d be bonded to until death.

Now we’re even. 

Chapter Text

[ jlawrence & bobbybr.wn are online ]

jlawrence: i’m srry i left

bobbybr.wn: It’s alright. Tommy + Dutch told me you seemed upset, though. What’s up?

jlawrence: did they srsly notice

bobbybr.wn: They’re your friends. Why wouldn’t they?

jlawrence: yeah ofc they jst seemed very invested in 

jlawrence: um 

jlawrence: whatever it was they were doing

bobbybr.wn: I think they were trying to paint Dutch’s skateboard. My rug is ruined, by the way.

jlawrence: shout out 2 ur rug

bobbybr.wn: Shout out? 

jlawrence: i didnt know how 2 spell conodolensnes

bobbybr.wn: You couldn’t spell “condolences” and you landed on “shout out”?

jlawrence: u are so mean 2 me. 

jlawrence: but yea idk uh

bobbybr.wn: You never told me what was wrong. 

jlawrence: how are u

bobbybr.wn: You’re changing the subject. I’m worried about you, that’s how I am. 

bobbybr.wn: You know you can talk about your feelings, right? It won’t kill you. 

jlawrence: whaaaaaaaaaaaat

jlawrence: i am so good w feelings its insane

jlawrence: u have no idea how good w feelings i am 

bobbybr.wn: ‘Punching’ is not a feeling.

jlawrence: oh

bobbybr.wn: And you’re still changing the subject. 

jlawrence: ok ok ok ok ok ok

jlawrence: ur not gna freak out on me right

bobbybr.wn: Do you know me as the kind of person to freak out on you?

jlawrence: hm

jlawrence: good point

jlawrence: but i knwo evrything abt u . to be fair

bobbybr.wn: … Right.

jlawrence: so 

jlawrence: i trust u

bobbybr.wn: Exactly. 

bobbybr.wn: You can trust me with anything. You know that. :-)

jlawrence: yea 

jlawrence: ok look

jlawrence: i think larusso 

jlawrence: is my soulmate  

jlawrence: and b4 u call me crazy

jlawrence: it’s literally on my wrist 

jlawrence: so

bobbybr.wn: What? 

jlawrence: im srs ok

[ jlawrence sent an image. 

Image description: Shaky photo of his right wrist, with the words ‘Now we’re even’ written right below his palm. ]

jlawrence: ??!!??

jlawrence: u know i know we all know thats

jlawrence: i guess the first thing he said 

jlawrence: to me 

jlawrence: and its on my wrist now so

jlawrence: daniel larusso is my fucking soulmate 

[ bobbybr.wn is typing . . . ]

[ bobbybr.wn is offline. ]

═════════

Bobby’s mom told him once that panic attacks were the Devil trying to upset him. Well, she phrased it as “infiltrating his mind” and “disturbing his God-given peace” but the point still stood.

The Devil was doing a damn good job, then. He stood with the countertop against his back, holding himself against it, his breathing shaky and nowhere near composed. And yet his face remained cold, calculated, staring directly ahead of him. 

Really, anyone who just glanced at him could hardly tell he was panicking. It was only when you saw the whitening of his knuckles and the subtle tilt of his head as he fought to breathe that you’d figure it out. 

His phone was long discarded in his room. He'd been standing here in the kitchen for a solid ten minutes. Bobby thought the change in location helped some, at least to stop Tommy and Dutch from hearing him. The pair had slept on a spare mattress on Bobby's bedroom floor, with no objection to sleeping by each other’s side. 

“Bobby?” whispered Tommy, approaching from the hallway. 

Fuck. 

“Did I wake you up?” Bobby's voice wavered only slightly. He blinked away tears he hadn’t been aware of, trying to regain some composure. The Cobras were all close enough to have seen each other in various states of emotional distress, but Bobby made absolutely sure nobody saw him like this. It was a type of vulnerability he wasn’t sure he could risk. 

Tommy shook his head. “Nah. Was already kinda awake. Dutch kicks in his sleep.” 

Bobby snickered at that. “Of course he does. I guess that’s what you get for sharing a bed with him.” 

If Bobby's mind had been less foggy, he would’ve seen Tommy's face flush slightly. “Hey, it’s not all that bad,” Tommy retorted, but chose not to say more. “What’s up with ya?” 

“What do you mean?” 

Tommy gestured vaguely at Bobby's tense state. “Ya look, um… I don't know. Did something happen?” 

Tommy was not the one to count on for these things. Bobby knew that. He had the widest vocabulary for slang and vulgarities, but couldn't have an emotional conversation to save his life. So maybe it was a mistake to confide in him. 

But a mistake he had to make. He couldn’t keep this confined within him, not when his body shook with anger and fear he’d never wanted to feel again. 

He’d panicked like this, with this intensity, just once before in his life, years ago. Seeing his soulmark and wanting to tear the words from his skin because it was wrong, it had to be. How else could he explain this feeling? How could he feel so much for the wrong person? 

And now, knowing that this wrong person had found the right person…

“Johnny found his soulmate.” 

“No shit!'' Tommy laughed incredulously. “Are ya serious? That’s so fucking cool! how?” 

Bobby shrugged. “He looked at his wrist, I guess.” 

“Do we know the girl? It’s not Ali, right?” 

“It's not Ali.” It’s not a girl, Bobby thought to himself, a whole aspect to the situation he didn’t even want to consider. 

Tommy paused, then. “Wait, then who is it? Who the hell has Johnny spoken to in between leaving here and going home? It’s not you, right?”

“Yeah, no shit , Tommy!” Bobby slammed his hands against the counter. “Fucking— no, it’s not, because why the fuck would I  be that lucky?! No, that stupid fucking Jersey boy shows up out of nowhere and now they’re— they’re— fuck !” 

He might’ve been crying at this point, not that Tommy really noticed.

“So…” Tommy whispered, but didn’t continue. 

“Yeah.” Bobby responded, filling the silence for a second before all that was heard was shaky breaths and quite possibly his heartbeat.

“I— yeah. I get it.” It was said in such a small voice that bobby barely picked up on it, but he did, and he nodded. 

“Do you?” he asked calmly.

“I always thought you’d take a break from swooning over Johnny’s every move and, y’know, notice what was going on right in front of ya. But ya didn’t. So, yeah, I'll be the first to tell ya, I get it.” 

“You and Dutch—“ 

“I said I get it, that’s all I'm offering ya right now.” 

Bobby laughed despite himself. He felt… comforted, in the midst of his (admittedly, somehow dissipating) anxieties. 

“Y’know what to do, right?” Tommy leaned against the counter across from him. 

Bobby stared directly at the ceiling. Avoiding eye contact was more of Johnny's thing, but he understood it now. Tommy continued. 

“That LaRusso kid? Get him a body bag. Kill ‘im.” 

“What?!” 

“Not literally!” Tommy kicked Bobby absentmindedly. “Just— mess with him a bit. Scare him off. Push him around. What more can ya do?” 

“I'm not gonna bully the kid.” 

“It'll keep him away from Johnny, man. Doesn’t have to be forever, but chances are, you’re not ready to see ‘em together just yet, right?”

Bobby considered it. He immediately felt uneasy with the thought, and shook his head as if to clear it from his mind. Johnny had been with Ali for the past few years— and in that time, Bobby had endured dozens of sleepless nights, no desire to eat or talk or do much of anything, and countless attempts to just fix himself, all of which proved useless. Even when Ali tried to set him up with Susan, he lacked the energy to pretend anymore that he felt anything near liking her. 

So, no. He didn’t think he’d be ready to see Johnny with that boy. 

“I don't think Johnny likes LaRusso at all, Tom.” It gave Bobby some semblance of hope to think about, and it seemed true enough; their last interaction had ended with bruises and blood. And to be fair, he also wasn’t sure Johnny was queer at all. Maybe it was silly to wonder— no, he knew it was silly, but he’d wondered it endlessly for the past few years. But if he wasn’t, what the hell was he going to do with a male soulmate? Bobby didn’t know much about this entire soulmate system; he’d avoided the topic deliberately for years. But he figured it was entirely possible for people to be mismatched. 

He wasn't sure why it was more comforting to think that Johnny was meant to be with a girl. Maybe because it meant he hadn’t wasted all this time yearning for something that could’ve very well been his. It felt better to think he never had a chance. 

“And we won’t give him the opportunity to.”  Tommy sounded so sure of himself. Bobby wondered if he’d been through this entire process before and if that was how he ended up with Dutch. “Got it?”

Bobby agreed without a second thought. Maybe it wasn’t the best choice, and he knew that. But he’d tried to get over Johnny— the hypocrite he was, chastising Johnny's feelings for Ali when Bobby could hardly get a blond of his own out of his head. He'd tried and… well, he’d keep trying. In the meantime, though, when it came to Daniel, he’d do what it took for Johnny to look the other way. Even if it wasn’t in his direction.

Chapter Text

Daniel had bought sunglasses before moving to California, sure, but he never thought he’d use them.

He rode his bike through the streets, tall and proud, the way he always had. the sunglasses rest on the bridge of his nose. They were comfortable, at least. The throbbing pain of his black eye was not. He hadn’t escaped his mother’s worry, but at least she hadn’t pulled him out of going at all today. 

The events of the night prior left Daniel with a need to see Ali again. Well, truthfully, it was Ali herself that made Daniel feel that way. There was something captivating about her, something he couldn’t explain that drew him in.

He quelled that voice in the back of his head that pleaded for it to be fate. Them being soulmates was always a possibility; it was a possibility with nearly every pair of people on earth. He tried and he tried not to entertain the thought. 

The way Daniel saw it, he knew how that would end. His mother and father had been soulmates. For years they’d been happy together. They’d made the sweetest, most loving family. Everything had been perfect, and you’d think nothing could ruin it– that was certainly what Daniel had thought, even then, young as he was. But death is always unthinkable, and unpredictable, and then came the destruction of everything he’d ever known. Daniel had grown tired long ago of hearing his mother cry, and far before that, he’d grown tired of his own crying. The exasperation and loneliness and regret, he was just tired of it. He felt angry and he felt sick and most of all he just felt exhausted . 

So California was a fresh start. or it was meant to be, at least. and he knew his mother had this lingering hope that Daniel would find the loving soulmate she once had. Yet Daniel had no way of explaining to her that he wouldn't. He'd tried– he always tried to explain these things to her, even when he knew it was pointless. She was a bit old-fashioned, coming from days when finding your soulmate was meant to be your priority. Daniel refused to prioritize something that was doomed to fail.

He wondered if Ali might bring him to hope again. He wondered what exactly he felt for her; he hadn’t reasoned it through yet. He very much preferred reason to emotion. It was hard to get hurt through reason.

══════════

Ali was trying to remember her cheerleading routine. She hadn’t practiced at all over the summer, and it showed . 

She had intended to copy off of Susan. She did that a lot. Susan was smart and funny and usually on top of these things. But Susan had picked up a habit of coming to practice high, apparently. This rendered her essentially useless for anything other than giggling mindlessly and half-assing her jumps. Ali wondered how those shades stayed on in the middle of it all.

At some point, Ali had ditched her pom-poms for a soccer ball. She headed towards Daniel. 

Daniel was a good guy. That's what she wanted, she told herself. a good guy. The type she could proudly bring home to her parents. Her parents, luckily, didn’t care much for soulmates; they weren’t soulmates, nor did they expect her to ever meet hers. They bombarded her often with statistics of divorces and mismatched couples and soulmates who never once crossed paths. But they wanted her to bring home a good guy. 

They’d been ecstatic about Johnny, at first. The rich blond boy from the Weinberg family (she begged them not to say anything like that in front of him, but they did, and Johnny's reaction of disgust was so painstakingly obvious) was perfect for their Ali. 

Ali wasn’t sure, entirely, at what point their opinion of him changed. They still wanted her to be with him, in fact, they were largely disappointed when she broke it off. But it became less about their love, or whatever, and more about obligation and marriage and a guarantee of ‘forever’.

Which was most likely what happened with her and Johnny’s relationship, in general. She knew it possibly had never been about love, even though it scared her to think she never loved him. She was alright, surprisingly alright, with the possibility Johnny never felt anything for her. She knew it wasn’t really possible, anyway. She liked to think she knew him well enough to tell. 

And now they’re broken up. So it didn’t matter much at all how she felt, or had felt, or had not felt about him. Unless he was asking for some good reason they couldn’t be together anymore. In which case ‘I'm not sure I can be attracted to you’ was… still a cruel answer, honestly. 

Whatever. Luckily (as horrible as she was to call it that) Johnny hadn’t been an exceptional boyfriend. When her parents asked why they split, all she offered in response was ‘he forgot my birthday’. That was all they needed to hear. 

She didn’t mention the fights they’d have, brought on by that looming reality: they weren’t soulmates. They didn’t have to be a good couple if they weren’t even meant to be one. Guilt ate away at her knowing Johnny had wanted to make it work. She’d pushed aside every attempt. Maybe she wasn’t an exceptional girlfriend either, but it all drew back to the truth— she didn’t have to be. He'd move on, she was sure of it. Find someone more willing to pretend. 

Ali didn’t want to pretend anymore. She couldn’t. That was her initial plan, anyway. But Daniel LaRusso came and everything seemed to change. She wasn’t pretending— well, she didn’t know yet what she felt for him. She didn’t know what he wanted from her. She was 17 now, old enough to tell apart the looks of friends and honest men from guys who’d ghost you within a week. And Daniel seemed honest, if not a bit kept to himself, a bit guarded. 

He was also cute. That helped. 

Objectively, anyway. Ali never cared much for guys’ looks. Daniel's bambi eyes and messy dark hair were charming, admirable features, and of course he was pretty, but she found herself caring more for the way he made her laugh, the way he could bounce a soccer ball on his knee, things like that. 

Speaking of which, she’d spent hours the night prior learning how to do that. Thank God for YouTube tutorials. 

Ali remembered trying to learn how to uppercut from a YouTube tutorial. It seemed like a more sensible option, rather than approaching Johnny's terrifying sensei, a man made entirely out of pounds of subtle misogyny, war stories, and muscle. Johnny walked into her bedroom and stared at her for a few minutes. “What’re you doing?” he asked her. 

“Learning karate,” Ali responded without a thought. She punched the air again. 

Johnny seemed pensive for a second before he walked towards her bedside table, picking up her tablet, flicking through her long playlist of self-defense tutorials. “C’mon Ali, you don’t gotta do all that. Y’know I’ll always be there to protect you.” 

“We don't know that.” Another punch to the air. Her form was improving. 

“I do. I promise you," Johnny put the tablet back down and threw himself back on the bed. They were at the point in their relationship of practically living at each other’s houses, although it was mainly Johnny coming over to escape the… yelling, and fighting, and… Lord knows what else. “I'm your boyfriend, I'm gonna protect you. It's the least I could do. and I'll do it. Forever.” 

She hated that word. 

She hated when he said it. 

She had an intrusive thought for a moment that she hated him, but she didn’t, she just hated that word. 

She was so caught up in this train of thought she didn’t realize she hadn’t responded. And even when she did realize, she still didn’t respond. 

“Ali?” 

He wasn’t stupid— a bit oblivious, but not completely out of the loop. And that was the most obvious silence she could’ve given. 

They fought about it for the next hour. Ali was surprised they didn’t break up right then. Actually, she felt that after nearly every fight they had. They were both such intense people that every argument became a shouting match. Nobody reigned victoriously— nobody felt victorious. Why would they? 

God, she was such a bitch to be thinking of Johnny with Daniel, cute sweet Daniel, right before her. 

Ali threw the soccer ball at him. He caught it and smiled at her. 

“Hey.” She lost herself a bit in those big brown eyes of his. She gestured lightly towards his eye and sucked in a breath despite herself. Jesus . She knew Johnny could punch (of course she did; she’d seen countless people on the wrong side of that fist) but she’d never really liked any of those people. She liked Daniel. God, this was complicated. “Sorry ‘bout your eye.” As if that would help.

Daniel shrugged. “Looks worse than it feels.” He wasn’t even looking at her, more focused on rolling the ball around his waist. She felt a pang of remorse hit her once again. 

She wasn’t sure if she could be secondhand responsible. Probably, right? Did she second-degree punch him, technically?

“I hope so,” was all she could muster.

══════════

The California sun was especially harsh at this time of day. But it was soccer practice, so Johnny, against his better judgment, was enduring it. 

“I just don’t get how he’s wearing sweatpants. It’s like he can’t even feel the heat." Johnny hit his fists idly against Dutch's shoulders. The bleach blond turned to look at him. 

“Fuck is it, Fashion Week? I don't give a shit about what Bobby's wearing.” Dutch shoved him away, grinning. Johnny pushed him back. 

“We’re sensible. We wore shorts," Johnny stated matter-of-factly. "He's the only one who’s not wearing shorts. I think he hates himself.”

“Is it pissing you off that much?”

“I'm not angry at him, I'm just angry.”

“That got something to do with how you left the other night outta nowhere?”

Johnny's face flushed. “Fuck off. I didn't think you’d notice. You’re so wrapped up in your little boyfriend .” Johnny was absolutely not in the position to tease anybody about acting gay, by the way. He'd been casting sideways glances at Daniel all morning. Not that he was into him, or anything, he was just… observing the damage. He'd given him a black eye. He wasn’t exactly winning awards for ‘best first impression’ anytime soon.

Scarier still was that he didn’t know how to stop. When he hated someone, he carried it through all the way. Strike first, strike hard, no mercy. Johnny traced his fingers absently over his knuckles, feeling the pain that bloomed. He didn’t feel the way he was meant to. That rush of pride and glory after winning a tournament, the rush he’d anticipated all year for the past two years, was absent. He felt a glaring nothingness at surface level, and even deeper, he felt… wrong. It was a sinking feeling that had claimed the back of his mind since that first strike.

But if Johnny was good at anything, he was good at pushing these things far, far from his consciousness. 

The sharp jab to his side was effective enough in bringing him back to reality.

“You’re such a cunt, Johnny.” Dutch glared at him. It was hardly intimidating, given that Johnny was decently taller than him. Still, Johnny had to appreciate the effort. “Keep saying shit like that and I’ll go get a fuckin’ girlfriend, that’ll show you.”

“The only reason you’re getting a girlfriend is to spite me? That’s still gay.”

The sharp jab turned into multiple full-fledged punches. Johnny pushed Dutch with all the effort he could muster between his laughter. “YOU’RE A CUNT!” Dutch shouted. Their coach shot them both an angered look.

“And you’re projecting.” Dutch whispered pointedly.

Johnny kicked his knee. “I'm not.”

Dutch was about to retort, but he glanced in the direction of Tommy and the other Cobras and seemed to decide against it in favor of nodding at them. Johnny looked their way, as well.

Bobby made a motion with his hands. Dutch and Johnny glanced at each other before looking at Bobby in confusion. The smaller boy rolled his eyes. 

J-e-r-s-e-y, he fingerspelled. Oh. 

Although the Cobras had all agreed to learn to sign together, they’d never bothered to learn the states. Except for Bobby, apparently. It just wasn’t practical. They learned to sign for two reasons. To talk shit without people knowing, and for Johnny. 

(“We should at least learn stuff like ‘help’ and ‘hurt’. Just in case.” Bobby had reasoned. 

Johnny was adamant, though. “No, c’mon guys. you don’t gotta learn a whole language just ‘cause my brain’s being weird.”

“Can you cuss in sign?” Dutch asked from his spot on the couch.

“‘Course ya can. It’s a language, isn’t it?” Said Tommy.

“Then we’re learning it,” Dutch folded his arms across his chest and looked down at Johnny matter-of-factly. “For that, and for your brain.”

“His brain is fine. This is very common. A lot of people shut down like that under stress or overstimulation." Bobby knew, because of course he knew. He knew more about this than Johnny did, anyway. “Think about it. we’ll have a secret language just for us.”

“Holy shit, yeah. Just throw up the thing for ‘fight’ and sic us on some loser." Tommy was getting excited now that he could involve violence. Dutch rolled his eyes at the statement, but Bobby shrugged. 

“Sure, if that motivates you.” And that was it.)

Dutch signed something Johnny couldn’t see. Bobby grinned, turning back to Tommy and jimmy. They were huddled together like a football team, planning god knows what. Planning something, for sure. Johnny felt a pang of uneasiness hit him.

“What’re they doing?” He whispered to Dutch.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

But he was going to. Obviously, he was going to. 

══════════

Ali had seen a lot of things during soccer tryouts. She’d been a cheerleader for as long as she could remember (not a very long time, all things considered. her brain had a habit of making the past fuzzy). But she’d never seen a physical fight break out.

Had to happen one of these days, right?

It was Bobby who initiated the fight. Despite dating Bobby's best friend for a while, Ali hardly ever interacted with the guy. She always had a sinking feeling that he hated her, or at least inexplicably disliked her. She was used to people getting the wrong impression of her, being a cheerleader and all, especially when she was dating Johnny. But Bobby was different. He looked at her so critically. No other stare made her feel as scrutinized as his.

So maybe it wasn’t a surprise that he’d stuck his leg out and tripped Daniel. 

They were back to standing within seconds. Ali looked away, knowing full well how this would end, but she could recognize the distinct sound of a punch against the face. She prayed Daniel had landed the hit and not the other way around.

This wasn’t good for her. This absolutely could not be good for her. Seeing this many fights in the span of a few years– Hell, just the past few days… fuck, could she get PTSD? What were the qualifications for PTSD? No, God, she had to suck it up and face him. Maybe she should do something, she wondered haphazardly. What could she do, though? Fight Bobby? No. She wouldn’t fight Bobby. Not physically. She’d probably die, right?

Or she could tell off Johnny. She was used to that. It’d be like falling back into old habits.

She turned around sharply, fully ready to march over to Johnny and order him to call it off, but she stopped in her tracks. 

That look…

One time, Ali had found a rabbit in her backyard. It was a tiny little creature, white, with oversized ears. She had been cradling it in her arms when Johnny asked to hold it.

She’d asked if he was serious, and he nodded, and she wondered if anyone else in the world knew that King Karate wanted to hold a bunny. When Ali handed it to him, Johnny got distinctly quiet. He looked terrified, overwhelmed. 

“Are you okay?” Ali didn’t step any closer, worried that a single movement might break the image before her. The bunny was perfectly calm as it lay in Johnny's strong arms. Johnny, however, was anything but calm. 

“I'm not gonna hurt it,” he whispered. He was trying to convince her, and yet she could see so clearly that he didn’t believe it. 

She'd never forget the look he had then. He seemed so aware of himself at that moment. He knew what he was capable of. He knew who he was, and for those tense few minutes, he wanted to be anything else. 

That was the way he looked at Daniel. 

Fuck, Ali thought, watching Daniel curse out the coach. Fuck, Ali thought, as Daniel stormed off into the distance. Fuck, fuck, fuck, Ali repeated, seeing Johnny and that pathetic, crestfallen look. 

Fuck . 

Chapter Text

[ tenthmuse & jlawrence are online. ]

tenthmuse: hi. 

tenthmuse: i know.

jlawrence: huh

jlawrence: what what what

jlawrence: first off who r u

jlawrence: second off 

jlawrence: wdym 

tenthmuse: 1) who i am isn’t important. 

tenthmuse: 2) i know that you, jonathan noel lawrence, have feelings for daniel larusso.

jlawrence: no lets cycle right back to number 1 who tf are u and why do u know my full whole entire birth name 

jlawrence: and 

jlawrence: no

jlawrence: what

tenthmuse: we go to school together. does that help? lets go back to the issue at hand.

tenthmuse: you have feelings for daniel.

“Your coffee’s getting cold. Who are you texting right now that’s more important than your coffee?" Bobby nudged the cup closer to him.

Johnny put the phone face-down on the table. He chose not to answer– he knew that looked suspicious, but he was such a bundle of nerves he couldn’t bring himself to care. Of course, it looked odd for him to be texting when he was with the Cobras since he hardly texted anyone else. But he hadn’t planned it. He’d just turned on his phone and there they were. ‘Tenthmuse’.

The fuck did that even mean, anyway? His best guess was Doctor Who, but just because he knew there was a tenth…Doctor Who…? Shit, he should probably look it up. 

He wasn't as concerned about the person’s name as he was about what they were saying. They knew his name. Not just his name, but his birth name. He thought his mother had buried that deep, deep down with the rest of the things Sid didn’t want people to know about them. 

(His mind offered memories of loud fights in the living room, not quite out of earshot as he, at 12 years old, listened in. 

“You sure as hell can’t complain. About time someone gave the boy an American name.”

“Jonathan is an American name, honey… I'm sorry, I just wish you had asked me first.”

“You’re being dramatic. It's just the school records. Be glad I didn’t go for his birth certificate.” That grating voice. Johnny had grown tired of hearing it years ago. Sid kept talking— Johnny wondered if he would’ve stopped, knowing Johnny could hear. Probably not. “And don’t tell me it’s an American name if he got it from his—'' And then he said a word Johnny'd rather not repeat, even in his own memory. “—father.”

Laura paused. A deep silence overcame the house. Johnny held his breath.

“Kids are brutal, Laura, believe me that, alright? If they piece together he’s a damn mix-breed, they’ll know he’s not even my kid. You want that?” 

Johnny chose not to mention that most people already knew that. Laura, apparently, was making the same choice. It wasn’t hard to guess, and yet Sid was dedicated to making it even harder. And so he started the next school year with all his records stating John Lawrence. Sid had vouched for a change of last name, too, but Johnny shut that down immediately.)

Of course, he told some people. Johnny was good at keeping his own secrets (incessantly so), but this was his stepdad’s secret. He'd need some sort of respect for his stepdad to want to keep it hidden. 

But as for who exactly knew… well, shit. He’d been hoping to narrow down this person that way, but now that seemed impossible. If he tried listing every person to hear his drunk rambling… yeah, no. 

Tommy snapped his fingers in front of Johnny's face. “J. You’re spacin’ out. C’mon, class starts in five minutes.”

Shit. Class. He felt stupid for forgetting. He didn’t have a plan for this. He was a mess and Sensei would know. It was obviously unspoken, but he knew the rule. He couldn’t show up to class all… emotional. Dysfunctional. 

Shit. 

══════════

Johnny loved and hated being proven right. Depending on the situation. 

Being around his sensei was one of the times he hated it. 

No, he really did respect his sensei. He obeyed him. He feared him, the way one would fear God. He listened to him. Sensei was so much smarter, so much better than him, than anybody… 

Even as Kreese yelled at him, his face so close, reddened with rage. He listened. And he knew he deserved it, anyway. For making excuses like that. For letting Tommy run his mouth.

“I don't give half a shit if your ‘soul-mate’ just got on one knee and asked you to spend the rest of your miserable life with ‘er.” Look at him, don't blink, don't show fear, don't show weakness, weakness does not exist in this dojo, fear does not exist— “You look me in the eyes when I’m talking to you, Lawrence.”

And so he did. It took all his strength, all his focus– he was battling between making eye contact and standing straight and breathing properly and keeping his face neutral, and he had years of practice with this, but it made him lightheaded regardless. He could see Bobby and Jimmy exchanging concerned glances in his periphery. He could see, right in front of him, his sensei somewhat calming down.

‘Calming’ was not the word. Johnny had mentally labeled the stages of these outbursts. As far as he had noticed, there was never a calm to the storm; his sensei operated on a constant rage. It was just a matter of when it would get worse. And, yeah, Johnny was inevitably at the forefront time and time again. But he could take it. and he deserved it, too, a lot of the time. 

(That was the only reason Johnny would consider. Dutch had remarked in passing one night that maybe Kreese was just a child-abusing psychopath or something ugly like that, and Johnny felt ill for the next hour.)

But Kreese was currently in this transitional period between the peak and the next peak. During this, he found something else to be mad about… through the process of ranting loud enough the neighbors could definitely hear. He turned away from Johnny. He faced the others.

Johnny let out a long, silent breath. His shoulders fell slightly. This was the most peace he’d get.

“I will not be hearing another word about soulmates. Your disgusting, lovesick delusions are not my problem. Don’t waste my time with it.” Kreese spat. 

Johnny tried mentally calculating how long this would go on. Time, numbers, calculations…if he would just focus on that… he could probably make it through, right? Redirect, redirect, redirect– be here, but not here. 

══════════

The restaurants in Jersey were just so much better, Daniel thinks to himself as he sips his latte.

Hell, matcha lattes weren’t even good. Why would you put milk in a perfectly delicious tea? 

Yet he sat there at the edge of his seat, drink in hand. In his defense, that line had been moving fast, he’d hardly had time to think about his order. He’d panicked and ordered the first thing he saw on the drinks menu. 

It ended up being wildly and unnecessarily expensive, because that was just his luck, right?

And to think he’d been planning on saving that money for karate lessons.

That’d been the plan, anyway. He was too much of a pussy to order a drink right. He needed to toughen up. And get hit less, preferably. Maybe ‘getting hit less’ and ‘learning karate’ didn’t mix, but he was sure he could make it work. He’d even landed the first blow in the latest fight he’d been in since he arrived (Lord, how the numbers were piling up…) and he had the bruises on his hand to prove it.

(He had no conceivable form or technique. He was freestyling it. His hand was in agony.)

Daniel could try justifying that fight over and over and it wouldn’t matter much. He’d just gone for it. To be fair, it’s not like he’d attacked some innocent bystander. He was beginning to understand that Bobby Brown was insufferable. Dutch– um, whatever his last name was –seemed just the same. Tommy Espinoza had tried and failed to trip him as he walked to class, so he hated him, too. He couldn’t remember Jimmy’s last name (it was long and vaguely European-sounding) nor could he escape the boy’s glares.

But Johnny Lawrence…

Actually, that was one person who’d left him relatively alone. 

Daniel brushed his thumb over his cheek. He could feel the very edge of his black eye; the pain was starting to subside. The memory stuck, though. He’d been preparing for days in case they fought again, at least until he’d spoken to Ali.

“You really don’t have to worry,” she’d told him. He chose not to tell her that he’d definitely be worrying regardless. “It’s over. It’s been over for weeks. Besides, I’m not sure he cares much.”

“He gave me a black eye. You think he doesn’t care that I’m talking to you?”

Ali looked at him for a moment, her eyes filled with an odd mixture of guilt and something he couldn’t quite place. 

“Yeah, I… look, Daniel– how much longer is this period?” Ali tapped her phone, prompting it to show her the time. Her lock screen lit up, dimly displaying ‘12:15’ right above a photo of some celebrity chick he didn’t know the name of. She turned back to him. “No, I definitely don’t have time to go over the Johnny Lawrence lore.”

“I’m sorry, what? The lore?”

“Look, the summary so far is that he’s not my soulmate, he knows it, and I don’t think he’s gonna fight you over that unless your punch to the nose messed with his memory.”

“He did fight me, though,” He reminded her. She sighed. “Ali, you were there.”

She stabbed her fork into a chunk of meat and looked wistfully toward the ceiling. “I mean, yeah, because you jumped at him. He’s got this whole thing with his dojo… he’s all ‘strike first, strike hard’. He doesn’t really think.” 

“How’s that working out for him?”

Ali gestured toward Daniel’s black eye. 

“…Right,” Daniel said. “What about the guys he hangs out with? You saw Bobby and I earlier, right?” 

“They’re in the same dojo,” She stated plainly. “And yes, I did. Sorry about that, by the way.” 

“You think Johnny told him to go after me?” 

Ali’s eyes widened a bit before she focused her gaze intently on her lunch. Something had shifted. He could feel it. 

“What? You’d really put that past him?” 

“I think Bobby can be a jerk on his own accord,” Ali whispered. “Daniel, I really don’t think he has it out for you like that.”

“I’m telling you, he does! He’s always glaring at me. He gets all quiet and fidgety when I’m close to him. It’s like he’s fighting the urge to punch my lights out.” Daniel pounded his fist against the table, making their trays jump slightly. It earned a harsh glare from onlookers, but Daniel didn’t care. He’d finally come to a sensible conclusion. Finally. 

But if it was so sensible, why was Ali laughing?

She had her head in her arms, bent over the table as she shook with laughter. Daniel was so humiliated, he only somewhat noticed how beautiful the sound was. Ali’s mass of blonde curls bounded as she snapped her head back up, just to shove it into her hands right after. 

“You done?”

“Oh, I’m sorry Daniel—“ Ali mustered, cut off by another giggle. “That’s just— wow. Hey, if it helps, I know him… pretty well. If he hated you, he would’ve told you by now.”

Daniel paused. “That’s not how that works.”

“Johnny Lawrence is not subtle. I’m serious. Has he even tried pushing you around since that night?”

Daniel thought about it. He’d seen a considerable amount of Johnny in the time since, but despite all of Daniel’s suspicions, Johnny had pretty much kept to himself. Sure, he looked like he was plotting something. But if he wasn’t actually going after him…

“If I try talking to him and he bites me, you’re paying for my hospital bills,” Daniel mumbled. 

“God, yes. Please just try talking to him.” Before he could protest, the bell rang. Ali rushed to discard her tray and get to class, leaving Daniel to think.

That was where he left off. Now he was halfway through a matcha latte, glancing out the window at the dojo across the street. 

He wondered if he really could learn karate. He’d taken some lessons here and there as a kid, but moving to California was starting to open up a whole new world. Of karate. For some reason. 

Hey, who knew? Maybe if he took a class, it’d make sense to him. 

And without really thinking of it, he’d dumped his latte in the trash and he was on his way. 

══════════

The doorbell of the dojo, for as far as Johnny remembered, made that cheery little noise. 

‘Juxtaposition’ was the word, right? English class had served him well. 

He was almost surprised Sensei Kreese hadn’t changed it up for some ’80s metal or a lion’s roar or something equally as badass and intimidating. No, there it was: their happy doorbell, singing idly as they fought. 

It only came to his attention because the door had opened. There were rarely interruptions when class was in session. Johnny was betting Sensei Kreese wouldn’t even acknowledge the newcomer.

Shit. Johnny had glanced up. Near the door, admiring the photos on the wall stood a scrawny figure with dark hair in a red sweater he knew all too well. LaRusso.

Maybe it was better Sensei Kreese didn’t acknowledge him. 

Actually, Johnny was hoping Sensei Kreese wouldn’t acknowledge anything at the moment, because he knew another lecture was waiting if he slipped up. He tried concentrating as he moved into position. 

Tried being the keyword. He scanned the crowd in front of him. They were all lined up, orderly, rows of boys identically bowed to him. He bowed back. 

And then his eyes wandered. 

Jesus, he looks like Bambi, Johnny thought, but not without immediately taking it back. Shit. Fuck. That’s— no. 

But he did, he really did, which was the problem. For all his feistiness, he really was easy on the eyes. Johnny had never understood before what that expression meant. He’d heard it used and always thought that was an odd way to describe someone— as if somebody’s features could be nice to look at, the way you’d look at a poster or an REO Speedwagon album cover.

Well, LaRusso was nice to look at. Objectively, Johnny mentally added. He had those big brown eyes and a baby face to go with it. He spoke a mile a minute, every word twinged with that Jersey accent. Even when he was silent, he fidgeted, toying with his sweater sleeves as he watched the Cobra Kais practice. He had admiration and a hint of anxiety in his eyes. 

Johnny smiled. 

Which he honestly hadn’t meant to; he was usually good at keeping his emotions contained. But something about LaRusso being there, in the dojo, made him feel honored somehow. He wasn't even doing anything, just standing idly at the front of the class, readying them. And yet LaRusso's gaze was fixated on him. He seemed to be anticipating something, filled with genuine curiosity, waiting. It struck Johnny that LaRusso really didn't know shit about karate. And then it struck Johnny that he could teach him, and Johnny hadn't expected to smile about it, but he hadn't even noticed until it was too late.

But, to be fair, so did LaRusso. He looked a bit taken aback when he finally realized.

And then he waved. 

It was a tiny gesture, a tanned hand raising ever so slightly with a wordless ‘hi’. 

Johnny had no time to react, forced to continue on with practice as if he wasn’t about to faint. 

LaRusso scurried away not long afterward, most likely intimidated by Sensei Kreese’s booming voice and the general intensity of the room. But the thought of him remained. Johnny damn near knocked his classmate to the ground with a spin kick, and the thought remained. Johnny scrambled to get out of his gi, grab his bag, rush out the door, and the thought still remained. 

He was halfway home when he finally got the courage to open his phone again. Tenthmuse’s messages beamed back at him. 

[ jlawrence is online. ]

jlawrence: ok u might be on to something

Chapter Text

“Is this gonna be a weekly thing?” Tommy asked, getting off his motorcycle. He’d been to Bobby’s house so many times, yet rarely was it just them two.

Bobby shrugged. “That’s not a complaint, right?”

And Tommy shook his head ‘no’ earnestly. “Hell no. You’re the only guy I know with a popcorn machine in his house .”

“You’re using me for my popcorn machine!”

“It could be worse,” Tommy said with a grin. “I’m using Dutch for his HBO Max subscription.”

“Right. And that’s why you’re dating. Has nothing to do with you being head-over-heels for him since middle school.” Bobby ignored Tommy’s grumbled protests in favor of getting them both through the door. Tommy was still being secretive about the whole thing, but Bobby knew just enough to be able to tease him.

But on the subject of the popcorn machine: within fifteen minutes, they were sat on the floor of Bobby’s TV room, Tommy hogging the ridiculously large bowl. One of them had turned on Netflix at some point, but they weren’t watching it, just using the noise to drown out their conversation. 

“So I’m tellin’ ya, I’ve never seen him bolt like that.” It was a miracle Tommy could find time to talk between the handfuls of popcorn he was feeding himself, to be honest. But Tommy often defied logic in order to gossip. Especially if he was gossiping about Johnny. He was in the process of recounting to Bobby the state in which Johnny had left the dojo. “I mean, I kinda get it. He must’ve been freaked.”

Bobby focused his gaze on the ceiling. “Yeah, I was wondering how you survived that whole… thing. Isn’t that awkward?” He’d been thinking about it since he first found out about Tommy and Dutch. Their sensei had been the most vocal person against soulmates any of them had ever met. And Bobby had been fine with that for years, and he’d thought Tommy had been, too, but it struck him suddenly that he probably, definitely wasn’t. 

He figured that must feel like shit. He knew what it was like to hide things from their sensei. 

(To be fair, Bobby wasn’t exactly sure how the whole ‘being gay’ thing would go down with Sensei Kreese. He could guess, though. )

But Tommy just shrugged. “Nothin’ we haven’t heard before.”

We. One syllable and yet it was. So. Much. Bobby glanced sideways at Tommy, trying to imagine him being part of a ‘ we’ . A ‘me and him’. He could and he couldn’t. 

Bobby tried imagining himself as part of a ‘we’. Part of a ‘me and him’. Part of a ‘my boyfriend and I’. The thought came to him wistfully because he’d always pictured Johnny as that other half, and while he’d always known he shouldn’t, now he couldn’t , and it hurt more.

Tommy must’ve seen the look on his face. Being a Cobra, they became really cognitive, or… empathetic, or whatever. They weren’t super talk-about-your-feelings-type people, so they learned how to read those little looks and pauses. 

Past that, they were still clueless, though. Tommy threw a popcorn kernel at him and that was the height of his emotional connectivity. 

“Definitely shouldn’t have brought it up. Just run my mouth whenever Sensei asks me somethin’. It’s like a compulsion,” Tommy said with a laugh. “Could’ve just lied. Said Johnny was under the weather. Fuck was I on about, talkin’ bout his soulmate?”

“Thank God you didn’t name anybody,” Bobby added. He recalled Johnny quietly telling Tommy, Dutch, and Jimmy at lunch a few days prior that he’d found his soulmate, but that was the extent of the detail he’d given. If Johnny knew that Tommy knew it was LaRusso, Bobby would be dead . 

He thought rather selfishly for a second Johnny couldn’t expect him to keep this inside. A lot of his thoughts regarding Johnny ended up being pretty selfish. 

“Speaking of LaRusso,” Tommy grinned, and there was a certain mischief behind it. “You saw him at the dojo, yeah?’

That elicited a groan from Bobby. “Yes, and don’t remind me of it.”

He’d turned around after he bowed: there he was, LaRusso, in that stupid red sweater looking all innocently around the room like he’d never seen a dojo before. Which, yeah, probably he hadn’t. Bobby didn’t know and frankly didn’t give a shit if they had dojos in Newark. He wished LaRrusso had stayed in Newark so he wouldn’t have to consider it.

But Tommy was giving him this big, snarky grin and now he was almost nervous. 

“What? What’d you– why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Why do ya always assume I did somethin’?” And that was hardly convincing, the way Tommy discarded the empty bowl from his lap and spread himself out onto the rug like a cat. That stupid grin never left his face. “Can’t a guy just push another guy off a hill in peace? Jesus, you’re judgy.”

Pause.

Tommy wasn’t very good at hiding his laughter. So Bobby let him laugh, and he kept staring at the ceiling as if the answers to the universe would be written somewhere within the chandelier.

It was brilliant, actually. That was the first terrible thought Bobby had. 

It was horrible . 

It was deserved. 

Fuck.

Strike first, strike hard, right? God, his hands were fucking traitors, trembling like that. If he could just… repeat that. Strike first, strike hard. If he’d just repeat it, over and over, he’d feel less like…

“Don’t look at me like I did somethin’ wrong, Bobby.” It was Tommy’s turn to groan exasperatedly. “God! He came into our dojo , man. Dunno what he thought would happen.”

“Probably not getting thrown off a hill.”

“He’s gonna learn to expect this shit, then.” Tommy was nonchalant about it, more than Bobby ever could be. “We’re Cobras. It’s what we do. It’s what I do.”

And Bobby couldn’t argue with that. 

══════════════════

[ Image description: A girl with long black hair smiles at the camera, holding up a peace sign to her cheek. A cat filter has put white whiskers and small ears on her. She’s wearing a white shirt and light blue overalls. ]

Liked by daniel-san , chtoguchi , & 1,039 others. 

xokumiko Guess who’s coming to Cali! ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ I’m super excited, can’t wait to see you @daniel-san ｡.:*☆🦋! (I haven’t told him yet… I’m preparing for him to spam my comments XD) #fyp #california

View all 238 comments . . .

daniel-san WHAT WHAFGWRHJJH HWJHJEARFKL WJBVDHKJEWLJFH 

daniel-san SHUT UP SHUT UP SHTU UP OH MY GOD IF THIS IS A JOKE IM BKOCKGIN YOU

daniel-san WHEN WHEN WHEN HWHN THWNE THENDHGBWHJFKJH WHEN

daniel-san I THINK IM HACIVGN A HEART ATTACK

xokumiko @daniel-san IT’S REALLL! MY AUNT JUST TOLD ME ૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა  I THINK IN A FEW MONTHS? AND PLEASE DON’T DIE. @chtoguchi PLEASE DON’T LET HIM DIE.

chtoguchi @xokumiko What. What do I do in this situation.

xokumiko @chtoguchi CALL AN AMERICAN AMBULANCE!! ૮₍˶Ó﹏Ò ⑅₎ა 

chtoguchi @xokumiko I think I will let him die. :-)

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe you would let me die!” Daniel shouted into his phone. To be honest, he wasn’t really sure which microphone was working: the one at the bottom of his phone or the one on his earbuds’ cord. Judging from the resounding groans from Chozen and Kumiko, it could be either of them. 

“You are not convincing me otherwise if you shout into my ear,” Chozen told him, all matter-of-fact the way he always was. Kumiko giggled. 

“Oh, you’re lucky you’re not coming to Cali, Toguchi. I will shout so loud into your ear all you’ll hear for the next ten years is this Jersey accent.”

“How did you make that sound gay?” Kumiko asked, causing Daniel to splutter and Chozen to go completely silent. 

“I- um- h- hey, speaking of gay. What if you visit in June? Y’know, Pride Month? California is, like, super gay-friendly.” Daniel threw in as the best diversion he could think of. 

There was an audible noise of Kumiko clapping with excitement. “Ooh, and you can take me to the parade with all your new friends!” 

Daniel paused. 

So he hadn’t actually told Kumiko he didn’t really… have new friends. 

Except for Ali. 

“About that— I kinda just have the one friend. But she’s amazing. Her name’s Ali. I think you’d like her.” 

“Oh?” That had piqued Kumiko’s interest, apparently. “Soulmate material? For you, I mean.”

“What are the chances? C’mon, I don’t think I’ll actually find my soulmate here. Or ever.” It was something he’d been thinking over. He knew it was pointless trying to discourage Kumiko about this, though. Kumiko spoke of soulmates a lot; anybody who followed her Instagram knew that. No amount of Daniel’s pessimism made her less hopeful she’d meet her own soulmate. She didn’t even regard Daniel as a lost cause. Or Chozen, whom Kumiko was sure would find a ‘lovely karate boy’ somewhere.

Before Kumiko could say anything, they could hear Chozen clicking open a new tab. “Okay. Give me her name. I will find her. We will see.”

“See what?” Daniel asked, although questioning anything Chozen did usually ended with him even more confused. 

“See your compatibility with this girl.”

“You’re going to stalk her Instagram to find out if she’s my soulmate?”

“Don’t question my methods, Daniel.”

And Daniel never did. It was worth a shot, in all honesty. If Chozen could find out there and then if Ali was his soulmate, it might save him a lot of heartache down the line. So Daniel gave him her username (thealimills, which Daniel loved because it made her sound famous) and Chozen got to work. 

There was a brief silence. 

“Who is this blond boy?” 

“What? Wait, share your screen.” Daniel had a feeling he knew already which blond would appear and it did not surprise him when that smug smirk filled his phone screen. He groaned anyway.

There were two distinguished types of Chozen Toguchi silence. There was the standard silence, because Chozen was naturally pretty quiet, and then there was This Silence. It was analytical and pensive and Daniel did not like it. 

“Stop thinking so loud, Chozen.”

“You have not answered my question.”

“What? Oh. Yeah, um, he’s Ali’s ex-boyfriend. We’ve… met.”

There was yet another pause as Chozen clicked on the tag, opening up Johnny’s profile.

“I thought we were looking at Ali!” Kumiko protested. “Go back to Ali! She was pretty!”

Daniel couldn’t comment, given that he was currently burying his head in his hands. 

“Hm, they all look like jerks,” Chozen muttered, analyzing a photo of all the Cobras together (with Tommy and Dutch flipping the camera off). 

“They are jerks! A bunch of karate-fighting rich kid jerks. Well, okay, maybe not all of them-” He was still trying to figure out his opinion of Johnny. Something just wouldn’t let him forget about that blond. Especially his damn smile, Daniel’s mind supplied, a thought that Daniel instantly wished away. “But you see that guy, next to the one with the awful bleach job? He pushed my bike down a hill yesterday. I’m serious.” 

Kumiko immediately responded with concern, gasping out, “No way! That’s so messed up! What did you do? What’s wrong with him? Should I fight him for you?”.

Meanwhile, Chozen asked, “Were you on the bike?” 

“Yeah, I was on the bike. It got trashed. I threw it out. Or I tried to, anyway. I think, um…” Daniel paused, trying to remember the man’s name. He’d seen him before in person, doing some handy work, after months of Kumiko talking about him. Oh, Daniel, he’s amazing. He’s my aunt’s friend, he’s so wise, he lives in California, you’ll love him! Kumiko was usually right about these things. “Mr. Miyaji- Uh, Miyagi? The guy you told me about? Yeah, he fixed it.” 

Kumiko’s camera was off, so Daniel couldn’t see her face, but he knew her well enough to predict her proud, joyful expression. Daniel, for one, was more than glad to redirect the conversation (he’d already talked about the Cobras more than enough for one evening, thanks to his mother’s insistence. Turns out showing up at home with a broken bike and bruises was a cause for concern). Kumiko wanted to know every detail, and Daniel obliged her. They spent the next hour going on about Mr. Miyagi and California and bonsai trees and how to pronounce these things.

Eventually, Daniel was yawning, leaning back onto a pillow. Through the window, he caught glimpses of the star-lit sky; it was well past midnight; he was sure. 

“I think Chozen is asleep,” Kumiko whispered.

“Wait, what? Isn’t it afternoon where you are?”

He heard a slight shift he figured was a shrug from Kumiko. “And isn’t it midnight for you? Go to sleep, Daniel-san! I’m sure you have a big day tomorrow.”

══════════════════

Daniel did not, in fact, have a big day planned. 

The entire school was buzzing with excitement, regardless. Everyone was preparing for the Halloween dance. Decorations were being put up, costumes were being planned out… all for a dance Daniel wasn’t even sure he’d attend. So he’d entered school that day, fully intending to curl up in one of the library’s beanbags and nap. 

And then he checked his phone.

thealimills: hey!! where are you?

thealimills: come to the gym. i’m super bored. and i think susan’s high (again) :P 

So that’s where she was. He remembered vaguely that she must’ve mentioned this the other day; to be fair, he’d been far more concerned with getting as far away as possible from Tommy, who had been sneering at him from across the hall. 

But going to the gym meant leaving the beanbag.

He weighed the options mentally. Which was a nicer way of saying he procrastinated. So sue him, he’d fallen asleep at one in the morning. He was allowed to be lazy.

His phone was heavy in his hand, the light baring down on his face. Ali’s messages from earlier remained open. He tapped on her username, and her profile opened up.

And then he kept scrolling.

When he landed on the photo Chozen had found, Daniel tried to pretend he hadn’t been looking for it. He really did. Denial was so easy and a way better alternative to what he was currently doing: staring purposefully at the blond, trying to find something. Some reason why Ali had hope for him still. Some reason to talk to him. Anything.

He’d been able to push aside his theories of Johnny wanting him dead. And yet he still hadn’t spoken to him. Not that it was something he looked forward to, or… really knew how to do, but. He should , right? 

Before he knew it, he was scrolling through Johnny’s profile.

Which was rational, right? If he was looking for answers on Johnny he was going to find them on Johnny’s profile. Which, of course, justified the scrolling and the zooming-in, and the looking-through-comments. Which– wow. Johnny got a lot of comments. 

He didn’t post often. It seemed like his most recent post had the most comments, and it-

Oh. 

It was Johnny, sitting on top of a sleek red car. He was looking into the camera, all casual and inviting. He wore his Cobra Kai jacket, unzipped, and jeans, and… wow, um, not much else. Like, actually. Jesus Christ, was that a four-pack or a six-pack? One, two, Daniel began to count, three–

And then his phone hit his face with a resounding smack . 

“SHIT!” Daniel cried out. “Shit, fuck, shit–” Could he get a bruise from this? He probably would- he’d learned over the past few weeks he bruised like a peach . Could he get a concussion? Probably not. But he worried either way. 

Maybe this was a sign from the Universe, Daniel reasoned, rubbing his sore temple gently. He should’ve just gone to the gym in the first place.

So that’s where Daniel headed. He tried not to look so obviously in pain. That way, nobody would ask. And if nobody asked, Daniel didn’t have to explain it was Johnny Lawrence’s fault. And not because they’d fought. Because Daniel had to briefly consider Johnny’s stupid washboard abs . 

Nobody had bothered to remove the gym’s usual decorations, instead choosing to just slap a few skeletons on top. Not that the usual decorations were any good. A large purple poster stated in bubble letters “Every child is”- it was unfinished and clearly meant to have ended with “brave” or “welcome” but instead seemed oddly existential. Combined with all the death-themed additions for the holiday it surprised Daniel nobody was having a quarter (or something, math is bullshit) - life crisis.

As opposed to the crisis Daniel was having, which had nothing to do with his age and everything to do with–

“Johnny, I swear to God. Hand me that skeleton right now .” 

As Bobby reached out to grab it, Johnny angled it away. “I was dancing with it!” 

“Good on you. Skeleton’s the only thing you’re dancing with tonight,” Tommy commented with a grin from across the table. Daniel did not need a reminder that Tommy was a bitch. He had bruises on his elbows and side to prove it. 

But Johnny could clearly use the reminder. It amazed Daniel to see Johnny (morality status unclear) with people whose morality status was properly fucked . 

(Daniel recalled the booming voice of their sensei and wondered if the Cobras had all just trauma-bonded.)

Johnny wasn’t facing him, meaning Daniel only saw the back of his head, the black band tied loosely around his blond hair. And his jacket.

The same jacket from the photo.

Bright red. Stunningly red. 

Red is his color, Daniel thought. He couldn’t see people’s auras (Mr. Miyagi could, but he wasn’t about to bring Johnny home with him anytime soon. Or, um, ever) but he figured it was red. It was the color that fit him the most. Red like the blood that stained his knuckles. Red like his flushed face after soccer practice, the way it was now. Red like the fire in his eyes after every hit he landed and the tint of his lips as he smiled and that bright red jacket–

He backed into a cardboard cutout of Frankenstein. Shit, this school had zero budget. The cutout fell onto the floor, along with him, with a large smack. A few more decorations came with it because of course everything was connected in the most convoluted fashion, why would anything be simple?

Johnny turned to look at him- well, everyone turned to look at him. But he noticed Johnny, for some reason, Johnny and his bright red jacket which was just slightly open. 

Open enough for Daniel to register that he did, indeed, have a six-pack. 

And then register that the Frankenstein cutout had not killed him when it fell. And he was still very alive and very conscious and everyone could see him staring at Johnny fucking Lawrence and that was when he ran out the door.

Chapter Text

tenthmuse: i’m so serious johnny. he was staring at you!

jlawrence: shut up no stop talking oh my god fuck off no he was not ur insane

tenthmuse: i am so not insane. he was totally eyeing you up. 

jlawrence: was he staring or eyeing me up. if ur gna LIE TO ME at least keep ur story str8

tenthmuse: i’m keeping this story gay, thank you very much. and i am not lying.

tenthmuse: i think you’re just not ready to accept the possibility he might like you back.

jlawrence: oh ok srry for not being delusional ig 

tenthmuse: i’m trying to help you and you’re making it super difficult. just so you know.

jlawrence: what part of me made u think “super easy 2 talk to”

jlawrence: also im busy 

jlawrence: doing makeup

tenthmuse: gay. 

jlawrence: and if u dare call me gay-

jlawrence: FUCK OFF

jlawrence: its halloween its the 1 time a year its ok 4 me 2 to do it lol

tenthmuse: what does that mean?

jlawrence: nothing moving on

tenthmuse: putting a pin in that one, actually, but sure, moving on for now. 

tenthmuse: go get yourself all dolled up for your soulmate :) 

jlawrence: SHUT UP

Johnny was not getting ‘dolled up’ and he was not doing it for LaRusso.

He was smearing white paint on his face. That was the base coat, anyway. The rest of the Cobras counted on his precision for the black outlines. They’d been going as basic stuff like skeletons for a while now because they collectively refused to be those people who overthought their costumes. 

(Which they were , because there had been entire heated debates over costume ideas in years prior, but nobody needed to know that.)

He can hear bickering from the bedroom. The playful type, not the type he hears at six in the morning from downstairs that makes him bury his head in his pillow. It serves to remind him that he’s safe here. 

Tommy pops his head in. “Ya done? It doesn’t have to be perfect, J.”

Before Johnny can retort that it does have to be perfect, Dutch strikes back with a “Feel pretty yet, Johnny?” and Jimmy tiredly responds “He’s always pretty,” and he thinks that if he wasn’t holding onto it so tightly he would’ve fallen off the damn sink already. 

(He had normal feelings about being called pretty, normal feelings that he didn’t have to think about or consider much. Ever. At all.)

He was only on the sink so he could use the mirror because although he’d been offered multiple handheld mirrors and one phone camera he needed the largest mirror in the house. Well, no, not the house, because there was a full-body one in Jimmy’s living room, but Johnny was not going to move all this face paint to Jimmy’s living room. So it was the largest mirror in Jimmy’s bedroom. It worked.

He dipped his paintbrush into the black paint. These were his good paintbrushes, from the collection of rich-kid school supplies his mother could afford now. He rarely ever used them in school. He wasn’t much of a painter. 

And yet Johnny was coordinated. Maybe that came from karate, or teaching himself guitar, or just the size of his hands, but he was. 

He finished with his own face quickly. That was always the easy part. He could keep still and paint. It was near impossible for the other guys to keep still.

Dutch was currently throwing a soccer ball in the air. It was a miracle he hadn’t hit the ceiling fan yet. Actually, it was a miracle he hadn’t hit Tommy yet; his head was on Tommy’s legs as they lay on the bed. Every time the ball came down it threatened to jam his knee. Bobby and Jimmy were talking- gossiping, more likely.

Johnny flicked his paintbrush at Dutch’s face. “You.”

Dutch knew what that meant. He sat up, moving to the edge of the bed. 

“Don’t you dare get paint on my bedsheets, Dutch. Off the bed.” Jimmy exclaimed. “Tommy, get him off the bed.” And Tommy obliged, sticking his tongue out at the bleach blond and kicking him playfully.

Dutch glared at them both. Bobby shoved a chair toward them, and Dutch sat, looking up at Johnny expectantly. 

“C’mon, tilt your head up. You’re short, remember?” 

Dutch rolled his eyes. “Didn’t need the reminder.” But he tilted his head up anyway. Johnny got started, tracing around Dutch’s eyes with black paint. That part was easy, same with the nose.

“Gonna need you to shut up for a second,” Johnny told him, tilting Dutch’s head up further. The mouth was the difficult part, at least for guys like Dutch, who had clearly never worn lipstick in their lives. 

“Good luck with that,” Tommy teased. “Don’t think he ever stops talking. I really don’t know how to shut ‘im up.”

“You know how to shut me up.”

And Johnny doesn’t actually know what that means (a punch, a kick, it could be anything) but Tommy seemed to. He went quiet.

══════════════════

Bobby looked up at him, and there was something indescribable in his eyes, the way there usually was. Johnny was used to it. He was used to things and feelings he just didn’t have the words for.

He didn’t have the words for this, either. He smoothed the dark paint over Bobby’s nose, letting the other boy watch him. Bobby could be calm, Bobby could sit still- Bobby was the easiest of them all. Johnny tilted his head up slightly. 

“Your lips are nice,” Johnny told him because they were. They looked easy enough to paint. And he was fully expecting Bobby to roll his eyes or kick him or something, but Bobby just looked away. Johnny didn’t keep talking. He just swiped the paint over the other boy’s lips, humming.

══════════════════

bobbybr.wn: I think God hates me. 

bobbybr.wn: I know you said God’s not going to punish me for being gay, but he is, and this is it. This is my punishment. 

tomasespinoza: LMAOOOOOO

tomasespinoza: you dramatic BITCH oh my god

tomasespinoza: this is so fun 

bobbybr.wn: I’m glad you can find fun in my suffering, Tommy.

tomasespinoza: that AND my bf

tomasespinoza: super fun having a bf bobby u should try it sometime

bobbybr.wn: I’m blocking you. You’re the worst person ever.

tomasespinoza: good luck blocking me irl we’re in the same room

══════════════════

“He hasn’t spoken to me all night. He’s such a bitch.” 

“You’re the bitch, Tom. You are, generally, in most situations, a bitch,” Dutch answered as if he was helping. “You usually come to me with this shit and I usually have to tell you this. You’re a bitch.”

“But I am also so lovable and endearing!” 

“Who has ever told you that?”

“ You! On multiple occasions!”

“I’m so sure I’ve never used either of those words in my life. Do you even know what endearing means?”

And Tommy went off for a bit about how he was going to be an English major and obviously he fuckin’ knew, while Dutch just smirked at him. It was easy to get Tommy riled up and ranting about his future and Dutch liked it. He liked knowing Tommy had plans, something in mind past high school. For them. It went without saying this was a two-person job.

Tommy was just on the subject of the exact layout of their three-bedroom home (“An extra bedroom or two, in case the boys wanna come over. Assuming they can make it to Spain.”) when Dutch pulled him closer. “You’re gonna have to tell them we’re together before you invite them to our home.”

Tommy scoffed. “We could invite them to our wedding and they wouldn’t put two and two together.”

And Dutch was… insane, by the way, about wedding talk and the thought of spending his life with this guy and it was not surprising that he pulled Tommy even closer to kiss him. Tommy seemed to have a split-second realization he couldn’t put his hands up to cradle Dutch’s face (because paint-white hands would be terribly incriminating, far more than doing this right outside the school ) and just rested them on his arms. They’re used to this, used to kissing, so their noses aren’t bumping against each other awkwardly. There’s music playing lightly in the distance. They sway there for a couple seconds.

“Ya taste like paint,” Tommy stated, all matter-of-fact once he pulled away like he hadn’t been seconds from a make-out session against the brick wall of the school. And wouldn’t that have been a great ‘fuck-you-West-Valley’?

“There is paint on my mouth, yeah. Or- there was.” Dutch swiped a finger along his lip, relieved to see the black stain against it. “There is.”

“And thank goodness for that. I don’t carry black lipstick with me.”

Dutch is halfway through quipping, “Then what shade of lipstick do you carry?” when Tommy kisses him again, short and quick, and then he’s in through the door, lost in the bustling crowd.

Chapter Text

Daniel, for one, really likes his costume.

Controversial opinion, apparently. He can see the way Susan and Barbara glare at him. So they don’t like his costume– truth be told, really, neither of them like him . Full stop. But he sees Ali standing with them, and then she’s walking towards him, and he feels fine.

Ali throws her arms around him. She’s very affectionate by nature and it works for him. His love language is physical touch, or whatever. It’s either the Italian or the Puerto Rican or the Jersey in him and he can’t bother to figure out which.

“You look well,” Ali tells him, and ‘well’ could mean happy or it could mean his bruises were fading. 

(He wanted to keep it that way. He made a mental note to avoid even the sight of the Cobras tonight.)

Daniel shrugs. “Yeah. It’s been well.”

“No trouble in paradise, I’m assuming? You’ve talked to Johnny?” 

Daniel puts aside ‘in paradise’, although that is not how he’d describe whatever the hell is going on with him and Johnny. No, he hadn’t talked to Johnny. 

I stared at him in his dojo. I stared at him online. I stared at him in this very gym. But, no, I haven’t actually spoken to him. Yet. 

“Y’know, um… I haven’t, but, hey, maybe I’ll catch him later tonight.”

Ali looked hopefully at him for a second, glancing behind her at the crowd, before frowning. “Good luck getting him alone.”

“Wh — oh, shit. Right.” The Cobras. 

Ali hums, playing with Daniel’s hair absentmindedly. “Wish I could say they’re not always like that, but I dunno. They’re protective.”

“Of Johnny?” It sounds ridiculous because he’s seen Johnny fight. He’s sure Johnny’s tougher than any of them, maybe all of them combined. 

Ali just shrugs. 

══════════════════

Another hour passes, and he finds himself by the bathroom sink, trying to wash the egg out of his hair. For all the things that could happen at parties, it’s not the most devastating, and it got a decent laugh out of Ali, so he doesn’t mind.

Daniel’s adjusting his bangs (he’s very specific about the way they frame his face) when he hears talking near the stalls.

“You said you knew how to do this.” It’s a boy in a skeleton costume, Daniel notices– it’s Jimmy in a skeleton costume. Fuck. He stiffens, although he knows the brunet can’t see him. God, I love this costume, he tells himself and makes a mental note to thank Mr. Miyagi, the next time he sees him.

“I said I’d try .” Is that Johnny’s voice? “Why can’t Dutch do it?” Shit. It is Johnny.

“If you’re better at finding Dutch than you are at rolling a joint, I’d tell you to go for it. But none of us are good at any of that, so y’know what? I’ll go find him. You… make it work.” And Jimmy leaves.

There are an odd few seconds where Daniel is acutely aware that he is alone with Johnny. 

Which– yeah, he’s thought about their first actual conversation. Just a few times. A normal amount of times. And it usually goes pretty smoothly. Daniel is a proud possessor of a natural (irresistible) charm. He’s got this all planned out. He’s gonna cruuuuise his way over, and he’s gonna lean against the wall, right in front of Johnny, and he’s gonna say–

“So, uh. Want me to roll it for ya?”

He did not just say that. I did not just say that. Also, related: I’m jumping out the nearest window.

Johnny looks up at him. His headphones are on his shoulders, and his sneakers are against the wall in front of him as he’s sitting on the floor. And he’s looking up at Daniel like he’s crazy.

(Daniel vaguely remembers being the one on the floor the last time Johnny looked at him like that.)

“Do you… know how…?” Johnny asks, with pauses just long enough to really rub it in.

“I–” Oh, I really fucked this. I don’t think I’ve been within five feet of a joint in my life. Fuck.

Hopefully, Johnny doesn’t spot Daniel’s panic, but he shrugs regardless. “Hey, I don’t.”

“You don’t? I thought you– but you’ve smoked before, right?”

Johnny makes a sort of ‘yeah, duh’ gesture with his hand, the one holding the (admittedly, terrible-looking) attempt at a joint. “Yeah. I’ve hit a drum before, too. Doesn’t make me Roger fuckin’ Taylor.”

“You listen to Queen?” Daniel says with a gasp. “Holy shit! Y’know, you do kinda remind me of Roger. But, like, ’70s Roger. The ’70s was their best era, I think. ‘Cause 1975, Night at the Opera came out. And that’s got… Love of My Life, You’re My Best Friend, uh… Bohemian Rhapsody, obviously. And…” And I am ranting. Okay. Shit. I need to shut the fuck up. “Yeah. It’s– um. What else do you listen to?”

And Daniel’s expecting a list or something. He’s not expecting Johnny to tilt his head to the side, gesturing for him to sit down. Daniel thinks for a second that’s going to be near impossible with this curtain around him, so he undoes the belt around his waist and sets it down, before sitting cross-legged in front of Johnny. 

Daniel puts the headphones on as soon as Johnny hands them over. 

Can't stop this feeling, I've been this way before

But with you, I've found the key to open any door

I can feel my love for you growing stronger day by day–

“It’s glam metal. The instruments are all heavy but the lyrics are this… sappy, lovey shit. In a good way.” Johnny tells him. 

And it is sappy, lovey shit, but Daniel’s not about to say that out loud. It’s also good . 

He’ll say that much. “I like it. It’s so…” You . That’s what first occurs to him. He trails off, though, instead of finishing. Again, he’s a quick learner. He’s gotta know when to shut up by now. 

But it makes Daniel smile, a bit, to imagine that Johnny’s anything like this. All heavy and intimidating and scary and then. This. On the inside. 

“It’s badass, Johnny.” That’s what Daniel lands on when he looks up at Johnny again. 

“Yeah?” Johnny says. Daniel can see a smirk on the blond’s face for a second before it’s hidden by Johnny brushing his hair back. It’s pointless, really, because it falls right back into place. Daniel can see flecks of paint on the edges that have brushed against his face. 

(Which brings him to the costume. Johnny’s all… broad shoulders and sharp edges, and it matters only ‘cause the suit fits him just that well, to bring out all those features. He thinks Johnny might be wearing eyeliner, or something, along with the face paint; it’s bringing out the light blue of his eyes. And he looks good the way Daniel knows he’d never look in something like that. He looks good. He looks really good.) 

Daniel hands the headphones back. The song keeps playing, before skipping to the next one, not that either of them is really paying attention. 

Johnny’s kind of fidgeting with the roll in his hands, before he chucks it into the trash behind him. 

“I give up.” He announces. “Fuck it.”

“You didn’t even let me have a try!” Daniel whines. He half-considers getting up, finding it, and proving to Johnny he really, probably, maybe could roll a somewhat decent joint, but decides against it. 

“I’m not gonna show up with somethin’ you rolled,” Johnny says. It comes out odd, and bitter, in a way Daniel doesn’t think he means, and he seems to regret it immediately. “I mean— they’d be able to tell. That I didn’t do it.” 

“Nah, I get it. It’s alright.” Daniel waves a hand in the air absentmindedly, as if that’d do anything. And then he smiles. “They really don’t like me, huh?” 

He doesn’t know why that’s almost laughable, right now, when it’s given him nothing but panic for the past few weeks. But Johnny’s in front of him. 

(That makes it different, somehow?)

Johnny’s looking at him. And that is different. Daniel can feel his gaze on him. He meets it. 

“They don’t like you ‘cause they don’t know you.” It’s hushed, but Daniel just barely catches it.

And Daniel knows what that’s supposed to mean. He knows how this works. He knows he’s a stranger, or a threat, or whatever. He knows that well enough. 

But he’s not even running his mouth at this point when he opens it again. 

“You know me.”

Do you— 

And Johnny laughs. 

“It’s not a stupid question!” Daniel protests. 

(And his face isn’t red, by the way. Do you really expect a dingy high school bathroom to be air-conditioned properly? It’s no wonder he’s heating up. Unrelated, entirely.)

“Do I like you?” Johnny leans back, grinning wide. “Jury’s still out on that one, LaRusso.”

Daniel sticks his tongue out. Johnny just furrows his brow mockingly. 

It feels even now, settled, being here with him. Joking, laughing as if they are or could ever be friends. Or something.

“Well, I didn’t make a stellar first impression. I’ll give you that much.” 

“Are you kidding? Didn’t I give you a black eye?” Johnny looks incredulous. “I’m surprised you’re even talking to me.”

Daniel considers this. 

“I punched you in the nose.”

“…I’m sorry ‘bout your eye.”

“I’m sorry about your nose!” Daniel extends his hands. “You see? Now we’re even!”

(And he wants Johnny to believe it. He wants Johnny to trust him- that’s something that occurs to him, looking at the blond. So he chooses to ignore how Johnny tenses up upon hearing those words. Daniel doesn’t know what that means. He wonders if he’ll have to get used to that.)

“You paint your nails?”

Oh. Daniel realizes Johnny’s been staring at his hands for the last minute-ish- avoiding eye contact and consequently noticing Daniel’s bright white nails. Daniel lifts his hands, splaying them out in the air with a proud grin. “Did it myself. And trust me, it’s not easy, trying to paint with your left hand. So give me props for that.”

“I’ll give you props for showing up to school like that,” Johnny tells him, but there’s no mockery in his tone. It’s… admiration. Or something. “Nobody… y’know?”

Of course, Daniel had thought about that. It’s a near miracle nobody’s said anything. He’s sure people have noticed , and maybe they give him sideways glances in the hallway, but. Nobody’s said anything.

(That’s what Kumiko told him would happen, back when he first suggested it.

I just can’t imagine David Bowie never got shit for it, he’d said. That’s where his inspiration bloomed, some old music video he caught a glimpse of while flipping through channels on his TV.

Kumiko’s the one who taught him how, what brands of nail polish to use, and which colors would go well with his skin. 

It’s California, y’know. They’re open-minded. And Daniel’s still not sure what she meant by that.)

He shakes his head ‘No’. “Would you ever?”

“What, paint my nails? I’d be killed.”

“Oh, please. Aren’t you, like, King Karate around here? As if anyone would dare. ” Daniel scoffs, waving a hand dismissively. Because it’s true. If Johnny can show up every day in that flashy jacket and headband, why can’t he paint his nails?

“My sensei would,” Johnny points out. 

“Your sensei, the war veteran? What, did nail polish bomb his hometown?” Daniel remembers the awards displayed in the dojo, the ones he saw that singular time he had the courage to be within any distance of the man. “You do everything your sensei says, Johnny?”

Silence fills the air. 

“… I’m supposed to.” Johnny finally offers, albeit under his breath.

“But you don’t,” Daniel says, and there’s a glimmer in Johnny’s eye that tells him he’s right. 

Johnny exhales, leaning back on his hands. “Do you do karate, LaRusso?” 

He shrugs. “No. That’s why I came by your dojo. I was… looking into it.”

It makes Johnny laugh, and in turn, makes Daniel remember that soft, warm smile of his. The one that made him wave. The one he thought about the whole way home. 

(For practical reasons, mind you. Strategy. Or whatever.)

“I don’t think you’d survive in Cobra Kai,” Johnny tells him, smug, as if he’s proud of his hard-ass of a sensei.

“Not with that sensei. Not with those students. Present company excluded.” That makes Johnny grin, although, again, it falters within seconds. 

“Yeah. I guess.”

“Hey, Johnny? What happens when your guys walk in here and see us talking?” Daniel whispers with an edge of nerves in his voice. It’s something he’s been worrying about somewhat, talking to Johnny, because there’s a target on his back, for sure.

But Johnny looks composed. “Whattya mean, when? You’re just predicting they’ll beat your ass?” 

“Well, they have, about every other time I’ve seen them,” Daniel says. “One of ‘em pushed me down a G-D hill!” 

“Wh— wait, what?” 

Are they not telling him these things? Daniel wonders incredulously. He imagines the Cobras sitting in a circle like girls at a sleepover, recounting to Johnny the numerous ways they’ve been torturing Daniel. It makes him laugh, despite himself. 

As if to answer his question, Johnny groans, drawing up his knee and putting his head against it exasperatedly. “A hill . They didn’t— fucking— tell me that. Jesus Christ, I’m sorry.” 

Daniel knew he didn’t have a lot of time before the Cobras found him there with Johnny. It was inevitable. Especially if he kept sitting there. 

And yet he kept sitting there. 

He kept talking to Johnny. 

This was partly because the party outside was increasing in volume, and subsequently increasing in potential stress it would cause Daniel if he were out there. 

And partly, well, for Johnny.

“They haven’t come back for me yet, and it’s been... I dunno, a while,” Johnny says, shifting uncomfortably. “So, uh, they’re probably high? Or wasted, in general.” 

“Weren’t you in charge of that?”

“Yeah. But Dutch always has something on him, and the punch is usually spiked right around now.” Johnny’s nonchalant about it, as if this is routine. 

“So if they do find me?” 

“Run for it. Don’t get me wrong, normally their stamina is insane, but…”

Daniel nods. 

There are a few seconds between that, and the sounds of Tommy yelling. Tommy is loud — Daniel’s learned that much. It makes Johnny look over, then put two and two together and glance, panicked, at Daniel. “Fuck. Shit. Okay. Hide.”

“Hide? Hide?! I— the fuck am I supposed to hide in?” 

“The stall, you dumbass—“ Johnny whispers pointedly, although Daniel’s hardly listening. He bolts for the door. 

Which, in retrospect… he’s an idiot, yeah. But he figures Tommy wouldn’t be able to recognize him if he goes fast enough. 

There’s a harsh grab at his arm that tells him he’s wrong. 

And Daniel’s not weak , exactly, so he manages to push him off. But it stings, where Tommy shoved his nails into his skin. He can’t focus on that. He can’t focus, on anything, at all. He needs to run. 

It occurs to him that he can run home from here. 

That’s all that’s on his mind, even as he hears Tommy calling for Dutch, Jimmy, and Bobby. Even as he hears the footsteps against the floor, then the pavement, then the muddy grass. Even as he sees the wired fence in front of him, getting closer, closer— 

Even as he’s slammed into it. 

Even as one of them— he’s not keeping track —lands the first jab. And the next, and the next, and— 

—they don’t know you. 

—they don’t know you. 

—they don’t know you. 

—they don’t— 

He’s thinking of Johnny when he blacks out. 

Chapter Text

“Daniel-san, you look for revenge that way, start by digging two graves.”

Mr. Miyagi is right, of course. And Daniel’s in no position to doubt that, or go against that, or anything. 

He’s not in much of a position to do anything. He’s lying on his back, looking up at the ceiling, wondering if he’s broken a rib or two. 

Ali’s concerned. He figures she saw him running out the door, multiple angry Cobras in tow. That probably looks bad, right?

And Johnny– well, Johnny doesn’t know shit, and Johnny doesn’t have his number, but. Johnny had told him he could outrun the Cobras. So Daniel could be mad because he’d been expecting sluggish, cross-faded brutes and instead faced off with super-sober, super-pissed-off Cobras.

But he chooses not to be. 

Being mad at Johnny would be difficult . Not difficult to accomplish, no, he could do that easily– he did, for a while. But difficult to maintain. Especially while thinking about the night before.

So Daniel lands on being mad at the Cobras. Which he can do, of course. Because if Mr. Miyagi hadn’t stepped in they would’ve killed him. And it’s easy being mad at people who want you dead. He isn’t about to kill them, either, because Mr. Miyagi had shut down that idea real quick. 

But he knows they don’t want to see him near Johnny.

That’s something he can’t wrap his head around, because save from that one punch, Daniel’s possibly the least likely person to hurt Johnny. Ever. Like, he’s probably not even capable of it. He knows he’s going to learn karate, at some point, presumably, but still . Johnny’s, what, a black belt? Yeah, no. He can fend for himself, right?

And then a horrible thought occurs to him. 

It isn’t revenge in the way Mr. Miyagi warned him about. It’s revenge, definitely. It’s just not physical. His bones ache, and he feels all tense and bruised which– he’s sure he is bruised, but he’s always bruised these days. So he knows he can’t handle more physical. And he’s not stupid. He’s not going to sock Tommy in the face, or anything. Just in case the Cobras don’t intend to stop at beating him half to death.

Mr. Miyagi doesn’t act surprised when Daniel gets in the car with him and tells him to drive to the Cobra Kai dojo. Probably because Daniel’s incapable of surprising Mr. Miyagi. And to be fair, nobody’s capable of that, as far as he knows. If there’s something scheming and mischievous in his aura, Mr. Miyagi says nothing. 

He feels that same twinge of nervousness showing up at the dojo’s doorstep he felt the first time he visited. Granted, this time, he was expecting to see Johnny. He was still nervous, but it was a layered, more complicated kind of nervousness he couldn’t understand.

This is stupid, he thinks with a grin, because he’s really just taunting death, at this point. But he knows the Cobras don’t want to see him– probably expecting him to cower away in fear, really. And he doesn’t do that. 

They don’t want to see him around Johnny . That’s another thing.

He hides a grin as Mr. Miyagi opens the door.

══════════════════

Things Johnny Lawrence has been trying not to think about:

• Daniel LaRusso’s big brown eyes and the way they shine when he’s speaking about Queen 
• Daniel LaRusso’s hands. No more comments.
• Daniel LaRusso’s pretty painted nails
• Daniel LaRusso’s fluffy brown hair
• Daniel LaRusso’s lips. Lord. 
• Daniel LaRusso’s New Jersey accent
• Daniel LaRusso
• Holding Daniel LaRusso’s hand
• Kissing Daniel LaRusso (AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH)
• Teaching Daniel LaRusso karate

Things that Just Happened that are making All of This Super Difficult:

• Daniel LaRusso walked through the door.

Johnny’s not even supposed to have noticed. He sees a boy in the back get thrown to the ground for turning to look at LaRusso. Rookie mistake. Never lose concentration. Johnny’s body moves on autopilot, throwing punch after punch. There’s an entire sect of his mind dedicated, at this moment, to that movement alone. 

So the rest can think about LaRusso. He snatches a glimpse of him in the mirror and it’s enough for his heart to start fluttering. It’s such a stupid reaction– like, fluttering? Are you serious? But his body doesn’t care. 

When he notices the rest of the class moving, he jumps to action. He grabs the red and white flags from their perch on the wall. He can see Dutch doing the same.

Dutch has been oddly quiet since Halloween night. And that’s scary, Johnny thinks. Because Dutch is never quiet. Much less Tommy, who’s also been sulking a bit. Though to be fair, Tommy’s arm is broken, so he gets a pass. 

Johnny’s well aware of what happened. He hadn’t expected it, but he should’ve, right? A twinge of guilt turns in his stomach. He’s not sure when he’ll be able to talk to LaRusso again, but he does want to apologize, at some point. 

What hurts the most is that he can’t explain it. He can’t tell the Cobras to leave LaRusso alone, ‘cause they don’t leave anyone alone once they’re fired up about it, why should this boy be any different? But there’s a reason he’s different, and Johnny can’t tell them. Johnny’s not going to be able to keep the soulmate thing from them. Not for long. And they can’t know. And he can’t tell LaRusso any of this, because if LaRusso figures out they’re soulmates before Johnny has even accepted the concept himself, he thinks he’ll die.

He’s reasoned by now that LaRusso doesn’t know. He saw him during Halloween, and that thick bracelet around his wrist, where his soulmark would be, doesn’t seem to be coming off anytime soon. 

Johnny’s arm moves automatically to hold up a red flag when Bobby strikes some guy down. He doesn’t even notice himself stepping back to get into formation. He pays no mind to Tommy and Jimmy by his side. He just sees LaRusso. 

LaRusso, with that pale band-aid against his forehead, bruises darkening his skin. LaRusso, who’s looking out at the crowd, getting all fidgety. LaRusso, and some old guy Johnny doesn’t know but assumes is the one who beat up the rest of the Cobras. 

“An enemy deserves no mercy– What is the problem, Mr. Lawrence?”

Johnny’s head snaps toward Kreese. Okay, woah, fuck. Fuck. He lost focus and he looks stupid and–

No, no. Calm down. Calm down. Calm . 

He sneaks another look at LaRusso and the old man. “That’s the guy who broke Tommy’s arm,” he whispers. A note of recognition washes over Sensei Kreese. It’s not surprising; Tommy ranted about it for a solid hour. They came early today, trying to avoid the pitying (and confused) looks from their parents at home. So Tommy had an ideal amount of time to go on and on about it. Sometimes Sensei Kreese lets them talk, sometimes he cuts them off, there’s no telling which will happen. But today he’d seemed more interested than usual, which wasn’t by much, but still.

“Class, we have visitors,” his sensei announces. Johnny walks up behind him, eyes focused straight ahead, right above that old man’s head. He hopes it looks intimidating. He hopes he isn’t blushing. 

He glances at LaRusso. Shit. The one thing he was trying not to do.

LaRusso’s looking up at him, a white bandage above his right eyebrow, face bruised slightly. Johnny hears his sensei delegating with the man, whom he assumes is related to LaRusso somehow, but the words don’t reach him. He’s just looking at the boy. LaRusso’s got a mischievous glint in his eyes, scanning the crowd. He must catch Bobby or Dutch’s glare, because he smirks before he looks back to Johnny. 

You alright? Johnny tries to ask, wordlessly, just hoping it gets through to the younger boy.

LaRusso must get it, because he shrugs. Nothing fatal. 

I don’t like this, y’know. 

LaRusso glances toward the old man. He’s taking care of it.

I’m sorry. 

The brunet doesn’t smile, not outwardly. But there’s a change in expression that comforts Johnny. His eyes soften. Not your fault, it’s alright. 

It’s getting hard to ignore the conversation in front of him. The verbal one, not whatever-the-hell he’s doing with LaRusso. (He can’t complain. He won’t complain. He’s talking to LaRusso, alright? He’ll take what he can get.)

He hears something about a four-to-one problem, and the odds, and all this fight talk he’s used to, not that he’s had anybody come to the dojo for something like this. The Cobras have messed with a decent amount of people before, there’s no denying that. But they usually steer clear of the Cobra Kai dojo after that. LaRusso’s got guts.

LaRusso, LaRusso, LaRusso, his brain sings. It’s an ongoing chorus amplified by every time the boy’s eyes flick over him. He doesn’t like seeing LaRusso like that, all bruised and cowering under Johnny’s sensei’s harsh glare. But he does like seeing LaRusso, which makes the whole situation a bit better. And LaRusso– no, he’s not gonna get ahead of himself, pretending LaRusso might’ve come here to see him. That’s dangerous territory. Maybe it’s fate, or whatever, all that soulmate stuff he’s heard about in the vaguest sense. All he knows for sure is that LaRusso’s eyes are precious and bold and focused on him. He’s so lucky he’s in control of himself because his face would be bright red otherwise.

“Feel like matching, Lawrence?”

Johnny keeps a straight face, looking straight ahead. He says yes when he means no .

══════════════════

jlawrence: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHggggghHHHHH

jlawrence: I HATE IT HERE I TRULY DO I ABSOLUTELY DO

jlawrence: DO GAYS GO TO HELL BECAUSE IM GAY AND THIS IS HELL

tenthmuse: what the hell just happened? are you okay? 

jlawrence: larusso in MY DOJO im going to scream

tenthmuse: HE WENT TO YOUR DOJO?

tenthmuse: god he could not be more obvious. 

jlawrence: NO NOT LIKE IN A CUTE WAY 

jlawrence: im lying hes cute all the time UGHHHHHHGHGHHG

jlawrence: he didnt come 2 visit me he came 2 tell my sensei to make the guys fuck off 😭

jlawrence: muse i feel so shit bro i cant tell them to stop theyre gna Know.

tenthmuse: yeah, i don’t get that. why don’t you just tell them to leave him alone? 

jlawrence: ahgmnwfw,mjfkwemfw i want to but itll be super obvious i mean they knwo i met my soulmate and now im trying to defend sum random boy. i never do that. they wld KNOW so quick

tenthmuse: is there any chance one of them already knows?

jlawrence: o i told bobby 

tenthmuse: wait, really?? why?

jlawrence: 1. i panicked 2. hes my best friend

tenthmuse: so he knows about your soulmate, and is now… beating up your soulmate? you don’t think that’s connected at all? 

jlawrence: JJFKWJFWKJDJSK

jlawrence: i mean its not like hes jealous lol

jlawrence: no idk bobby doesnt do that . he usually j follows along

jlawrence: ig tommys a bad influence 

jlawrence: no shade to tommy i love him sm 

tenthmuse: and tommy doesn’t know, right?

jlawrence: no i didnt tell him 

tenthmuse: so we’re ruling out the possibility this is some big plot to push you and your soulmate apart? :P 

jlawrence: idk what kinda fucked up friends u have muse but 

jlawrence: mine want the best 4 me 

jlawrence: so

tenthmuse: alright. so, you saw larusso today, how’d that go?

jlawrence: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHhghhghHGHHjksjmfwmenfwmmfms,............HES SO

jlawrence: :(((((((((( 

jlawrence: my sensei was right there i cldnt do ANYTHING

jlawrence: i wanted to

tenthmuse: you wanted to…? fill in the blank gayass

jlawrence: NO

jlawrence: i dont have thoughts tht make sense like that

jlawrence: its just “HIM!!!!!!” and then

jlawrence: yea

jlawrence: little hearts all around it 

tenthmuse: you’ve really never done this before? you’ve never had a crush or anything? you’re acting like a first-timer. 

jlawrence: o ive had a gf before it just didnt work out

jlawrence: she wanted 2 meet her soulmate

jlawrence: which was um. not me

jlawrence: its ok tho cus 

jlawrence: idk how i felt then? but not this 

jlawrence: can u tell ive never done this b4……..

tenthmuse: its super obvious. she’s in your class right? she’s probably noticed.

jlawrence: NO SHUT UP THERES NO WAY.

jlawrence: muse if anyone ESPECIAKLY MY FUCKING EX GIRLFRIENDM knows ive gone FULL QUEER for this mf i will LEAVE THE COUTNRY

tenthmuse: i doubt she would judge you.

jlawrence: IDC ABT BEING JUDGED SHES GONNA TELL LARUSSO HE CAN DO SO MUCH BETTER AND HES GONNA TRUST HER FML

tenthmuse: again, doubt it. 

jlawrence: shit i havent even considered i cld date larusso.

jlawrence: muse gn i have to think abt this i have to use my whole brain and consider this

jlawrence: I CAN DATE LARUSSO.

jlawrence: i can take him on dates 

jlawrence: its way 2 early 2 think abt dates when ive only been alone w him for an hour ish b4

jlawrence: muse u do all that spiritual shit can u manifest that i get 2 be alone w him again thank u goodnight

tenthmuse: gay. alright, i’ll see what i can do.

tenthmuse: goodnight!

Chapter Text

Ali comes to find him first thing in the morning.

“Eek,” She hisses through gritted teeth, looking at his bruised face. “I was gonna ask how Halloween went, but…”

Daniel just shrugs. “It’s been taken care of.” Although it’s true, there’s something in his voice that’s terribly unconvincing, and Ali huffs. 

“Gonna find those a-holes and give ‘em a piece of my mind. They can’t keep doing this shit!” She grabs Daniel’s wrist, leading him off into the crowd of students to find the Cobras. 

“Hey, y’know, it’s not all of them.” He whispers, just loud enough for Ali to pick up. She turns around, ready to bombard him with questions about whatever that means. He realizes maybe a bit too late that she knows Johnny way better. The most Daniel has is one conversation and some eye contact.

It’s odd, the feeling that he knows Johnny, past that. But it’s ever-present. 

Speak of the devil. Shit. Ali’s interrupted by the boisterous laughter of the approaching crowd. Tommy’s got his arm, the one that’s not broken, linked with Dutch’s, while Bobby’s hand is around Johnny’s waist, with Jimmy by the blond’s other shoulder. Jesus Christ, cobras may not be pack animals, but these fuckers are. Are they incapable of being apart? Why do they need to be touching each other all the fucking time? 

“Look, look,” He tells Ali. And he walks right into the eye of the damn hurricane.

By which point it hits him he’ll walk straight into Johnny if he’s not careful, and so he narrowly avoids a collision, turning to the side, staring the blond in the eyes. Beautiful, light blue eyes– what?

“Sorry ‘bout all that, guys. Be careful not to go steppin’ in front of any more buses, now, alright?” He’s teasing, in the most infuriating voice he can muster, and it works. On the others. Johnny’s looking down at him, something indescribable and warm in his eyes, and Daniel feels oddly safe. And he remembers, of course, where he is and what he’s doing and so he throws his books to the ground in a movement so clearly fake Daniel stifles a laugh. 

“Motherfucker,” Johnny says, and Daniel takes a few steps back for emphasis. He grins. The other boys make an effort to hold Johnny back, stopping him from approaching, as if he was going to approach at all. Johnny lets them. Dutch’s hand sneaks behind his neck. They’re trying to comfort him.

He wants to give Johnny props for the whole show, though it’s really a two-person job. He’d be winning fucking… Oscars, or Emmys, or whatever, for the high-level shit he’s doing, pretending he hates this guy’s guts when really he–

He–

He just doesn’t hate him, alright? He needs that to be a good enough answer. They’re not friends and he’s well aware of that, or at the very least not friends yet, because they’ve spoken (out loud) about one time. Or twice. Because they spoke on the beach, but there’s no way he remembers anything he said then. 

Daniel and Ali walk away, Daniel sporting more of a flustered stumble than anything. Ali looks to him, proud. “The hell was that?” She asks with a grin. 

“We’ve got an agreement going. Sensei-to-sensei.”

“One, you have a sensei? And two, what agreement?”

“As of yesterday, yeah,” Daniel recalls fondly. So far it’s been less karate and more manual labor, but it counts. “And, well, Cobra Kai can’t come after me anymore. Not ‘til the tournament.”

“The tournament,” Ali repeats in mock awe. Then she giggles. “Y’know, I’m surprised you’re not just whining about it. You’re a man with a plan.”

“I’m not the whining type,” Daniel declares with a shrug. “I mean, who would listen?”

“I would.”

And that’s his chance. That’s his opening. He’s got to take it, something tells him, he’s got to. 

“Yeah. I think Johnny would, too. He’s, uh, he’s not all that bad.” 

What the fuck is wrong with him? 

He’s meant to ask her out. That was his opportunity. That’s what she meant by that, it doesn’t take a genius to know that. And he blew it off. To talk about Johnny. Holy shit. 

“Oh?” But Ali doesn’t look dejected. Or rejected, whatever. She looks fine. Content, even.

“So, we talked. As you said. And you’re right, we do get along.” 

“Mm,” Ali mutters with a nod. He thinks that’s all she has to say, but he’s wrong. “Well, I’m glad. I’ve got a project with him for English class. I’m gonna have to hang around him a lot, and I figure since you’ll be tagging along– ‘cause of course you will, Dan, we’re besties now –it’s better if you guys aren’t at each other’s throats.”

Daniel stops in his tracks completely. “You guys have a project together? You, um, you chose that?”

Ali laughs, shaking her head. “God, no. I was sorta planning to avoid him entirely this year. But assigned partners are a bitch . And I’m not gonna complain. It’s not like we hate each other.”

The bell rings to punctuate her statement. 

“Fuck. Hey, I could explain it better to you, maybe, um… Saturday night?”

Oh. 

This is it, this is it. 

He nods, and there’s a slip of paper in his hand with an address within seconds. And she’s off. 

══════════════════

It’s not like Johnny feels great, ditching the Cobras. But they’ve got class, and he’s got a free period, so it’s not technically ditching. 

No, he should feel bad for going up to LaRusso, instead of walking them to AP English Lang like he usually does. That’s what he should feel bad about. Somehow, though, he doesn’t. He is a bit nervous, he can tell from the beating of his heart. But he attributes that to LaRusso being right in front of him and the way the brunet’s looking at him. It’s hard not to panic with those eyes on you. 

“Hey,” LaRusso says with a smile. It’s hushed, in case people hear them and realize they don’t hate each other. Word of the beach fight got around the school quick, but people haven’t been sure what to think since, now that the two have calmed down. Johnny’s not sure what to think, either. Mainly when he thinks of LaRusso it’s the sort of thing he’d never share with anyone at school.

He’s got a paper in his hand, and when Johnny realizes, it seems LaRusso realizes, and he holds it up momentarily with a shrug. “I, uh, I’m going somewhere with– a girl. Not, like, a date, just…a friend thing. To talk.”

It’s not a date. It’s not a date. It’s not a date. He doesn’t even know if LaRusso likes girls. (He doesn’t know if LaRusso likes boys either, as much as he wants to convince himself of it.) So this probably isn’t a date. And Johnny doesn’t have to panic or overthink it or demand to know anything. He can just be normal about it. And he’s capable of that, totally. 

I’m really not, he thinks, a few hours later. He wants to call Muse (he doesn’t know their name, so that’s what he’s been calling them) but they keep telling him it’d give them away. Is that still a problem? They know his deepest secret, he can’t know their name? 

jlawrence sent a voice message. 

[ Audio description: 

“But what if it is a date, Muse? Any girl who’s ever seen LaRusso would ask him on a date. Either he’s lying, or that girl is crazy. Or a lesbian?”] 

tenthmuse : i think you’re projecting. 

jlawrence : im not a lesbian 💔

tenthmuse : that’s not what i meant..

tenthmuse : do you know where they’re going? 

jlawrence : dont u live here 

jlawrence: u and i both know theres 1 place anybody goes 4 a date 

tenthmuse: golf n stuff? 

jlawrence: o right 

tenthmuse: what were you going to say? 

jlawrence: applebees.. 

tenthmuse: ???? 

tenthmuse: have you taken someone on a date to applebees?? 

jlawrence: ali nevr complained ok 

tenthmuse: the girl that just broke up w  you? i think she had some complaints, all things considered 

jlawrence : fair 

jlawrence : but tbh not having a gf gives me a lot of extra time 2 be gay 

tenthmuse: you’re a lost cause. 

tenthmuse: so how much of a coincidence would it look like if you showed up to golf n stuff tomorrow? 

jlawrence: mmmmm idk but im doing it 

tenthmuse: for what it’s worth, i don’t think either of them will mind 

jlawrence: i mean ali doesn’t hate me (i think) (i hope) 

jlawrence: and larusso……. 

tenthmuse: also doesn’t hate you, don’t worry. 

The next ten voice messages Johnny sends are gratuitous ramblings about how if he doesn’t kiss LaRusso sometime within the next few weeks, he might die. And then him worrying about whether he can kiss a guy, whether he should be practicing, whether he’ll be any good. 

Muse manages to reassure him. That’s a significant talent of theirs. He gets multiple texts back about how LaRusso’s definitely not a kiss connoisseur and, assuming he likes Johnny back, will probably be too busy freaking out mentally to judge. 

That’s what Johnny hopes. He can’t believe he’s really thinking about kissing LaRusso (that’s not the most he’s thought of, but he’d rather die than tell the rest to Muse. Or anyone. Anyone but LaRusso— and see? There he goes, way ahead of himself.) before their second real conversation. Which is why his Golf-n-Stuff plan makes sense to him. 

Normally it’d freak him out, the way he’s been acting about LaRusso. He tells Muse that much, in voice messages long after they’ve fallen asleep, while he’s still wide awake, absentmindedly scribbling on his math homework. “But he’s my soulmate,” Johnny mumbles, wistfully glancing at his uncovered wrist. “I kinda have to talk to him at some point. Even if it turns into some Romeo and Juliet shit, meeting up in secret, whatever. Not that I read Romeo and Juliet. Sounds romantic, though.” And then he throws his notebook to the side and nearly suffocates himself in the pillow, face burning red, because talking about anything romantic with LaRusso does that to him. 

Chapter Text

Ali’s phone buzzes a few times as they’re walking. She silences it quick, but not without taking a small peek.

Daniel hardly notices, too captivated by the sights around them, the blinding lights of the mini-golf park. Really the only reason it caught his attention was because right after putting her phone back in her pocket, she grabs his hand. 

They’re friends. They’re not trying for anything more. The bracelets covering both their wrists haven’t moved. Daniel wonders if he should be curious, at least. He’s been so preoccupied with everything else, all this karate drama, that he hasn’t thought about it. 

“You ever think about your soulmate?” Ali asks him as if she can read his mind. 

“I guess I’ve wondered,” Daniel replies, because that much is true. “My ma’s always been big on the concept. But I’ve looked into it, y’know? I just can’t see myself meeting this one-in-a-million… person.”

“Or two-in-a-million. I’ve met people with multiple soulmates.” Ali adds with a shrug. “Though I think you’d notice two marks on your arm by now.”

“I actually… haven’t checked.”

“What?”

“I covered that mark the day I got it. I really don’t remember what it says. I just– I don’t see the point.” His tone is so nonchalant that it makes Ali look at him in surprise. He’s used to this conversation. He’s had it a million times, most of all with his mother, who’s so desperate to change his mind about this. Ali looks at him for a second like she’d love to change his mind, too, but he can’t imagine why . His mind flickers back to Johnny. “Has Johnny… does Johnny care about this stuff?” He almost regrets asking as soon as the words leave his mouth because he can not keep treating Ali like his personal Johnny encyclopedia, but the curiosity kills him, and who else would he ask?

When Ali looks at him again, it feels, for another instance, like she can read his mind, like she’s heard this entire interior monologue he’s had. She kicks a rock across the pavement. They’ve been sat here, near the entrance of the park, close to the parking lot. Not that they’re gonna leave yet, but Ali says this place has the best view of the stars this time of night, and she’s right. He remembers, vaguely, the names of a few constellations and considers busying himself in trying to find them. But Ali starts talking once more and his attention immediately falls to her. “Probably. I’m guessing things have changed since we were together. I know I’ve changed; I used to avoid the thought of my soulmate entirely, and now…”

“Now?”

“Now I’m kind of curious. All my friends go on about it, you know? So I wonder sometimes.” Ali glances up at the sky. “I knew Johnny wasn’t my soulmate. I always knew, we both did. But we could pass time together and keep each other company well enough, so dating just seemed like an obvious choice. But we weren’t good for each other like that. I guess I wonder if I met my soulmate, would it work out as well as I’m hoping?”

Daniel nods. He gets it, really, because that’s the same line of thinking that’s stopped him from even adjusting the bracelets on his wrist. 

“And I hope he meets his soulmate, too. At this point– I’m so close to graduating, being done with all this, I really just want the best for– shit, speak of the devil!” Ali cuts herself off with a laugh, waving at an all-too-familiar red car.

“Johnny,” Daniel says to himself, as if to ensure he’s really there, driving up next to them.

“You’ve always been great at showing up unannounced,” Ali says, leaning against the car. “What gives?”

“Jesus, I’m not obsessed with you, blondie. There’s the one cool place to hang out here. Forgive me if our schedules collide.” Johnny’s gaze focuses on Ali, but there’s a warmth to his eyes and a teasing undertone to his voice that Daniel picks up on. It’s almost awkward to be in between whatever it is that happens when Johnny and Ali are in the same room as of late. Almost because Johnny looks at him right afterward and his whole expression softens and he tilts his head and asks, “What’s up?”

“I just– I– yeah, uh, meeting up, with. A friend.” He points to Ali. I am so fucking normal. I am so good at speaking he will be so amazed. Johnny Lawrence will ask me for speaking lessons because that is how good I am at conversation. 

“Well, it’d be rude to ask you to fuck off now.” Ali reasons, because Ali’s a genius. 

“Please don’t fuck off!” Daniel holds up his hands, and then immediately puts them down, because why did he do that? He’s acting weird and he knows it and everybody in a five-mile vicinity knows it and he’s going to die. “I mean, no, yes, yeah, you can walk around with us. Grab a snack. If you want.”

Johnny grins. “Yeah, totally. You’ve never been here before, right? They sell killer caramel popcorn.”

“You’re the only one who thinks that because you’re the only freak who eats sweet popcorn,” Ali chimes in.

“I’ve never had caramel popcorn. Is it any good?” asks Daniel. Johnny nods enthusiastically.

“ So good. Hey, I’ll order some, you can try.” Johnny finds them a table that’s relatively clean and the two sit down. Ali stays standing. Johnny looks at her, puzzled.

“That’s a caramel popcorn and… your usual cream soda, right Johnny?”

“I was gonna–”

“No, you guys can talk, I can order. And I’m paying, no complaints. What would you like, Daniel?”

Daniel whispers something about an orange soda and Ali skips off gleefully.

“I’m pretty sure she’s just going to flirt with the cashier,” Johnny states matter-of-factly. 

Daniel looks up at him. Because Johnny’s taller than him, even when they’re sat down. And this realization leaves him frozen for a bit, so by the time he responds he figures he’s been staring openly at Johnny for God knows how long. “She does that?”

“Tough times, I guess? Lots of people wanna find their soulmate before high school ends.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Daniel shrugs. “It’s just, like, what’re the odds?”

Johnny goes quiet. He seems to understand, but as usual, Daniel can’t really read him. His eyes flicker down to Daniel’s wrist, to the thick leather wrapped around those damning words.

“Have you ever actually looked at your soulmark?”

“Not since the day I got it.” 

“Well, there’s the problem, right? Your soulmate could be right in front of you, LaRusso. How would you know if you’re not looking?” Johnny runs a hand through his hair. He’s not fidgeting. He looks like he’s riding a confidence high that he’s aware will run out the second Daniel opens his mouth. 

And he sounds so sure that it makes Daniel do a double-take. And then he thinks about it. 

And then he realizes. 

“You’ve found your soulmate, haven’t you?! Is that why you’re acting like it’s so easy?” 

“Wh– um. I–”

“Reality check for the less fortunate, I doubt everything in my life is going to work out the way it did for the incredible Johnny Lawrence. ” Daniel reaches over and ruffles Johnny’s hair for emphasis. “But good luck with whichever preppy blonde California girl gets to spend her life with you.”

“I have found my soulmate and that is an insanely inaccurate depiction of them, but thanks?” Johnny laughs. God, he’s so casual about this shit in a way that Daniel knows he’ll never be. Johnny props his head up on one hand, looking at Daniel analytically. Daniel tries not to put his guard up on instinct. 

“Aaaand I’m back!” Ali announces, in case it wasn’t obvious, given the popcorn bags towering over her hands. It’s a miracle she’s able to carry all this stuff. “Did you guys have a super-interesting conversation while I was gone?”

“Johnny found his soulmate.”

Johnny found his soulmate. 

Of course his life’s that figured out, right? Of course. He’s rich and does karate and has a ton of great friends and until recently had a really pretty girlfriend and he, himself, is really pretty, with bright blue eyes that you get all lost in and soft blond hair and of course he knows what he’s doing with his life and who he’s doing it with. 

“Oh?” Ali looks at him, one eyebrow raised.

“Don’t you dare doubt me, Ali Mills.”

“I’m not. Just take your popcorn, caramel freak.” Ali looks as if she was going to say something else, but chooses not to. Instead she decides on shoving the popcorn bag toward Johnny. 

“Thanks? Alright, LaRusso,” Johnny says as he turns back to him.

“You can call me Daniel, you know that, right?”

“I– yeah, sure, alright, um. Daniel. Are you ready for a snack-tasting experience that will change the way you see food forever ?” Johnny fumbles with his words for a bit, but finds his footing again not long after. He slams his hands on the table before grabbing a singular kernel of popcorn from the top of the bag. “Shit, that’s sticky.”

“Number one reason why it sucks. It’s sticky. You get caramel all over your hands.” Ali points out. “Why don’t you just put it in his mouth?”

“Why dont I just what ?” 

Daniel thinks he might pass out.

“She might have a point. I kinda don’t want that all over my hands. I’ll appreciate your sacrifice,” responds Daniel, and in turn, Johnny looks lightheaded now. Daniel sticks out his tongue.

“God. Okay, fine.” 

The taste of caramel popcorn may be entirely worth the sudden redness of his face. 

It’s so fucking good . He thinks he might die. He thinks he’s been risen from this horrendous dirt pile we call Earth and called upon from the heavens for the Popcorn Gods to bestow their wisdom to him. That’s how good it is. 

“Oh my god.”

“That good, huh?” Johnny grins widely. 

“I think this popcorn is my soulmate. I may never fall in love again,” Daniel cries out. “This popcorn has ruined me for all other– for– whatever, I just need more.”

Johnny throws another kernel at him, which narrowly misses his mouth. “Shit.”

“Your aim’s gotten worse,” Ali retorts.

“Fuck off. Here, let me…” Johnny picks up a napkin, brushing the flecks of caramel from Daniel’s cheek. He really doesn’t have to lean over the table to do it, in such an angle that leaves Daniel truly nowhere else to look but at his strong neck and shoulders and if he tilts his head up a bit, toward his full lips and arched nose and God, those eyes, looking down at him and yet not quite looking at him, not making eye contact and yet still making contact in a way that he can feel in his soul and, and– oh God, Daniel’s going crazy.

He hadn’t even realized he’d jumped back. Johnny looks at him, startled. “Uh. Hi?” The blond waves slowly. “You good?” 

“You have really defined collarbones.” 

I’m going to jump into oncoming traffic. 

“Woah. Thank you. Is that what scared you? My freakishly hot collarbones?” Johnny grins, somehow not finding any of this weird at all. Daniel figured he must just pity him. 

Now of course, Daniel said defined, not hot, but he’s not going to correct him. 

══════════════════

“Wait, let me take a picture of you with that thing. It’s like twice your size,” Daniel says, holding his hand out as he grabs his phone. 

“It is not!” Johnny protests, the teddy bear, ginormous as it was, in his arms. He grins for the photo, resting his head on its gigantic plush shoulder. Daniel was exaggerating a bit, sure, but c’mon. It was huge. 

At some point Ali had convinced them both she could win them multiple incredible prizes. In reality she’d just won the one, but it was so large and frankly, adorable that it made up for that fact. And thus their beloved Bartholomew Bear came into existence. 

“Still don’t get why you named it Bartholomew,” Ali questions, standing off to the side. 

“Ali, literally how dare you,” retorts Johnny, fake offense dialed up to a hundred. “Daniel here can name our son whatever he wants.” 

“How is that your son?!” 

“We are raising him well. We are the best fathers imaginable.” Daniel reaches for Johnny’s hand and takes it between his. They pose for a second, looking as dignified as possible, then break into fits of laughter. Ali rolls her eyes. 

“Alright, you two. Come here, I think they have a basketball game.” 

Johnny and Daniel keep walking, giggling to themselves. In one hand Johnny keeps Bartholomew steady, and in his other he’s… still holding Daniel’s hand. 

Right. Okay. Alright. There’s a plan for this, Daniel reasons. There is a normal and rational response to this. 

He squeezes Johnny’s hand slightly and swings their arms together as they walk. 

Not the rational response he had planned. 

As Ali gets to work on the basketball game, Johnny and Daniel sit down, their teddy bear on the table in front of them. “Why’s Ali doing all the work for us?” He asks Johnny. 

“I was never good at basketball,” says Johnny, shrugging. 

Daniel places one hand on his bicep. “You’re kidding. You’re tall and fit. That’s all the requirements.” 

Johnny flushes a bit. “I— I’m just more of a karate guy.” 

Daniel’s eyes flash with recognition. “Right, right. I saw you at the dojo. You’re good at that. Y’know, you could teach me some moves.” 

“Really?” Johnny seems genuinely excited for a moment before it washes away. “Shit, isn’t that cheating? We’ve got only a few months ‘til the tournament. And I’m supposed to fight you, remember? Sensei would kill me.” 

“Again with the sensei.” Daniel sighs. “What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him, Johnny.” 

And to finish the remark he places his hand atop Johnny’s.

Chapter Text

 [ Image description: A blond boy in a light blue sweater and jeans holding a giant stuffed bear. He grins at the camera. ]

👤 jlawrence

Liked by jlawrence , thealimills & others.

daniel-san father and son 

View all 15 comments . . . 

jlawrence family goals 

thealimills when’s the family vlog channel dropping boys 

jlawrence wowww @thealimills.  @daniel-san and i wld NEVER expose our son to the cruel world of fame so young

daniel-san @ jlawrence yeah! we’re good parents >:(

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xokumiko Soooooooooo… I have a question (─‿‿─)

daniel-san his name is johnny lawrence, i have all his irl friends blocked and yes i know he’s cute but no chozen cannot have him !!

xokumiko You think he’s cute? ;)~ ☆

daniel-san chozen would 

daniel-san he’s buff and he does karate, he’s exactly chozen’s type

daniel-san why does chozen’s type = guys that are exactly like him?

xokumiko Hey, I’m asking the questions! You need to tell me about your new American cute friend. ☆ ～('▽^人)

daniel-san he’s so cool :”) i went out w him today to a little arcade, we adopted a stuffed bear, he helped me try caramel popcorn! like he put it directly in my mouth LOL

xokumiko Haha, Daniel you’ve definitely had caramel popcorn before! 

daniel-san ……………. he doesn’t need to know that 

xokumiko DANIELLLLLLL

xokumiko You’re right! You’re living Chozen’s dream right now. Buff guys are feeding you popcorn!

daniel-san sucks for chozen that johnny already found his soulmate :P lol

xokumiko Whattttttt? Ahhh that’s so great!!! (((o(*°▽°*)o)))

daniel-san yeah haha 

daniel-san im happy for him 

daniel-san :) 

xokumiko Daniel you pessimist (；⌣̀_⌣́) You don’t sound happyyyy 

daniel-san nonono i am 

daniel-san if he wants to live his life according to this stupid fucked up system then more power to him. happy for u king 

xokumiko Am I crazy or does that sound like jealousy? (￢_￢;)

daniel-san um 

daniel-san hgwmjhnfjwk no its not i think thats great for him rlly

daniel-san sorry u know how i feel abt the soulmate thing

xokumiko I keep telling you not to give up hope! You’ll find your soulmate, I promise! (〃＞＿＜;〃)

daniel-san ur so optimistic i love that for u but ahhh dont worry abt me ok

xokumiko You make it difficult not to worry. 

xokumiko I have to go! Tell that Johnny boy to take care of you, I have my eyes on him!

━━━━━━━━━━━

[ daniel-san tagged jlawrence in a photo. ]

jlawrence: ur such a good photographer

jlawrence: like ur phone quality is insane

daniel-san: OH omg thank u :”) i cld take all ur insta photos if u want haha 

jlawrence: can i hire u 

jlawrence: not that i can pay or anything but 

daniel-san: i wld do it for free :D

jlawrence: im that good of a model?

daniel-san: totally

daniel-san: have u ever actually done modeling 

jlawrence: are u saying i cld get paid for being this hot 

daniel-san: seems unfair to go uncompensated 

jlawrence: ill keep that in mind 

jlawrence: career options

daniel-san: ur thinking abt ur career already? god i havent thought past this semester

jlawrence: kinda 

jlawrence: my sensei says i cld be a sensei too one day yk

jlawrence: so i always just have that in the back of my mind

daniel-san: rlly? thats nice of him

jlawrence: told u he can be nice sometimes haha

daniel-san: he seemed so itnimidating when i met him 

daniel-san: im guessing hes nicer to his actual students

jlawrence: nah hes that intimidating all the time

jlawrence: u have a sensei right?

daniel-san: yeah actually!! ive been doing all this work around the house like he taught me 

daniel-san: cus thru muscle memory or smthn it actually teaches me how to block and punch n allat……its cool

jlawrence: think ull be ready for the all valley?

daniel-san: im not going easy on u lawrence!!!

jlawrence: i bet

daniel-san: kfjwhjfkw

daniel-san: oh hey i have smthn i wanted to askkk 

daniel-san: a little bit of backstory um basically yk queen? i mean yeah duh u know queen. aaand u saw my nails!! idk if uve heard but back in the day freddie and brian used to match their nail polish, freddie wore black and brian wore white!! so uhh if u want we cld do smthn like that? :”) <3 

jlawrence: oh holy shit 

jlawrence: fuck 

jlawrence: i mean yeah actually totally yk what

jlawrence: im so shit at painting nails (probably idk ive never tried) 

jlawrence: but i think my mom has black nail polish somewhere 

daniel-san: yesyesyesyes :DD 

jlawrence : !!!!

jlawrence: ok i’ll be back in a bit i’m gna attempt nail painting 💪

daniel-san : LETSGOOO 

daniel-san : ty for matching w me king 💓

jlawrence: anytime >:) 

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jlawrence: what does 💓 emoji mean

tenthmuse: did larusso send you a heart emoji. 

jlawrence: 😁😁😁

jlawrence: 😁😁😁😁😁😁

tenthmuse: oh my GOD 

jlawrence: im so normal im so

tenthmuse: he’s obsessed with you this is a sign /j 

jlawrence: MUSE PLEASJE

jlawrence: ok ANYWAYS i have 2 learn how 2 paint my nails 

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[ Four members of COBRA HOES are online. ]

blond bitch : who knows how 2 paint nails. 

fake blond bitch : Keep telling u johnny i am NOT gay

spaniard bitch: WHO CHANGED DUTCHS NAME 

catholic bitch: Oops 🤣🤣

fake blond bitch: When u stop using white boy emojis THEN u can come for my hair BITCH 

catholic bitch: I am a white boy? 

spaniard bitch: not everyone can be hispanic baddies 

blond bitch: hello 

spaniard bitch: ok u are LITERALLY cuban i don’t want to hear u calling urself a white boy.

blond bitch: half 

spaniard bitch: coming over rn to fistfight ur mixed ass 

blond bitch: actually can u all come over 🫡 cus i need to figure out thiss nail polish 

catholic bitch: Totally! :) I’ll be there in 20. 

[ fake blond bitch changed their display name to supreme bitch ] 

supreme bitch: I AM UR RULER. 

supreme bitch: But yeah I can drive Tommy 

spaniard bitch: gracias bello precioso

catholic bitch: Someone translate- 

blond bitch: no ❤️ i do not want 2 know

spaniard bitch: johnny wld it kill u to know spanish 

blond bitch: i’m /trying/  to learn

spaniard bitch: i keep forgetting no one speaks spanish at ur house 😭

blond bitch: rmb when u came over said “hola” and my stepdad wld not talk to u for the rest of the night. 

spaniard bitch: LMAAOAOAOAO

spaniard bitch: holdon dutch is here 😍😍

blond bitch: gay as hell 

catholic bitch: I’m here! :P

blond bitch: FUCK YEAH COME IN 

souvlaki bitch: Now why is my name Souvlaki Bitch. 

blond bitch: ur greek. did u just wake up btw 

souvlaki bitch: Yes 

blond bitch: come over 

blond bitch: >:) 

souvlaki bitch: Why

blond bitch: just read up 🙏