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Johnny is careful using his key, opening his front door slow and quiet. Usually he comes in the house much louder, banging through the door with music on his Walkman blaring in his ears, but tonight is... different. His heartbeat is throbbing in his neck and he feels a swelling tightness in his throat as he closes the door quietly. Lucky Sid and his mom are both asleep, because he doesn't want to deal with any ‘a Sid's bullshit and he doesn't want his mom to worry.
He heads through the kitchen and takes a glass of water up to his room, sliding arms out of his jacket sleeves and letting out a grunt that sets his throat afire. How the hell can something hurt like this?
+++
The ride back home had been quiet, the lights lining the streets buzzing past Bobby, reverberating through him. His thoughts keep launching him back to the parking lot the further he moves away from it, Kreese's callous words, Johnny's reddening panicked face. He passes his knuckles across his sore sternum to relieve it some, but really he's not focused on that.
The moment he gets home, he stares up at the quiet front face of the building and he's reminded of how small he really is. That there are other things at play that are beyond his comprehension. If there was anything he learned tonight– besides how screwed in the head John Kreese truly is– is how small all of them are, how scared they can get when their walls are torn down.
That's the look he swore he saw in Johnny's eyes as he sat there dry heaving onto the pavement. Bigger than life tough guy with a sarcastic sense of humor rendered as helpless as a bug beneath Kreese's shoe— and he hated it. He hated it so much, he pushed past the burning disdain he felt for having been told to injure Daniel the way he had, the frustration that resulted from the sport he loved being forever soured.
No. That's not why he's mad, he realizes as he charges into his house, for once finding his parents' absence from the tournament both understandable even if mildly annoying— Could they have done something?
Johnny's feeling the worst of it. Worse than all the drama with Ali. Hell, maybe even worse than that stepdouche of his, from what little his friend has let on. Because yeah, Johnny was his friend– his best friend– and he'd be damned to hell if he left him alone in this. And that is precisely why he jumps for the family phone so late at night and dials Johnny's number.
+++
Johnny groans in pain and then hauls in tiny bits of air, shaking his coat off the rest of the way and tossing it towards his desk chair.
And then his phone starts to ring, the one Sid had installed on his wall "so he could talk to his friends up here and keep the rest of the house quiet"
He grabs the phone off its cradle and hauls in more air, trying to swallow the pain. He works not to cough and manages a rough "...hello?”
Relief crashes into Bobby the moment he hears the other's voice, although it is short-lived. He gathers up a seat by the phone, heaving a sigh before he starts with a gentle "Johnny...? It's Bobby.”
"Hey, Bobby." Johnny feels a clench and release inside, as much of pain as relief to hear the other guy's voice.
Bobby, as his ears felt like they were ringing, Bobby had said "sensei you're hurting him!" And then Kreese's elbow was in Bobby's upper chest, Johnny had seen that happen out of his peripheral. And he blurts, now, not caring about the renewed flaring of pain "Are - ah, are you good?”
Him?
"Me??" he gawks, flinching at his higher volume before he whispers, clutching the phone closer. "Johnny– I'm not calling to talk about me..." he provides, leaving the rest unsaid.
Oh. Shit- "Oh. I'm f- ah, alright. I'll be alright," he coughs and bows his head forward, reaching to his throat but not quite touching it. "Nothing's - uh. Nothing I can't h-" handle, he wants to say. But his throat is burning and his eyes are too. Bobby's being a good guy, like always. And here Johnny is not even able to finish a sentence. Fuckin' ridiculous.
Bobby pushes air from his nose, casting a glance into his darkened kitchen which transfers into his living room. The quiet dark blue glow in his house serves to remind him of Johnny's room– he imagines the other teen sitting, or maybe standing by the phone, buckling over while he tries to save face, and keeping the lights off because that would only make things worse, having the light on. If it's off, if it's quiet, he's alone. He's safe. But it can make you lonely too....
"You're not fine, Johnny," he mutters, ire building up a bit, though none of it is directed at his friend's attempt to stay strong. "This is anything but fine..." Damn. He can't just stay here, can't just be helpless like he had been back at the tournament. He hears Johnny shuffle or maybe he's just trying his hardest to breathe, and it's too much for him to bear. "...I'm coming over, okay," he resolves, speaking softly, the 'if that's alright by you' underlying his tone as he waits patiently for a response.
Johnny clenches his fist and presses it into the surface of his desk, hauling air and trying to breathe. He hears Bobby's voice offering to come over and he lifts other hand to outside of one eye, rubbing at his skin. "... okay," he whispers. Then a little louder "Okay. I'll unlock the-" Door, window, fuck it, he can sneak Bobby through the house if he has to, but…. Sid is a piece of shit, but he's dead asleep at this point as it's past midnight.
Bobby nods, utters "hang on" like it's suitable enough to placate any nerves Johnny might be feeling and hangs up, clacking the phone handset back into the wall and heading for the door.
At the back of his mind he thinks of Sid and decides if he does disturb that asshole's sleep, he deserves whatever Bobby lets come out of his face.
He doesn't care if he wakes his folks when he kicks his cycle to life, figuring it'd be much faster. But he does take the precaution of cutting it off when he makes it closer to Johnny's place, walking it the rest of the way before letting it fall against a nearby bush, concealed haphazardly. He makes a beeline for the back of the building, hopping the fence with near ease. It doesn't take long for him to scale the wall of the house, utilizing the unkempt garden creeping up the side of it, and soon enough he raps the knuckles of one hand against Johnny's bedroom window.
+++
Johnny takes the phone away from his ear and gives it a look. He coughs, whispers "shit" and puts it back on the cradle. He leans forward, hands over his face, trying to deal with the pain.
He rubs at his face and isn't sure how long it is, but he jerks at a tapping sound.
It happens again and he's up with a grunt and going to the window, shuffling across his room. On the other side with his darker hair shadowing his face is Bobby.
Johnny nods, pulling the window up, and "hi, Johnny," Bobby says.
Hey, man, he could say, good to see ya, what the hell 're you doing, something like that.
But he puts both arms out and pulls Bobby into his room instead.
+++
Looking around at the room, so dismal in the dark, Bobby sees that he was right. There's a fraction of moonlight leaking into the room from the window, but it's a bit obscured by tree leaves, their shadows dancing across the carpet, and the wall, and Johnny's still frame the moment Bobby's solidly inside the room. The sound of the subtle breeze rustling the trees is muffled as Bobby quietly shuts the window, his head bowed low but inclined in a way so he keeps his eyes trained on the blond.
He doesn't want to scare him, nor does he want him to think he's come over here out of pity, but he can't help looking at him cautiously, like one second more and he might break.
He takes a while to straighten up, languid in shifting his hand away from the windowsill, and makes a point to tuck his hands into the pockets of his jacket.
Bobby tosses his head up, hair sweeping with the motion, and studies the room, noting the phone by the desk, the discarded gym bag with the Cobra Kai logo obscured in the farthest corner of the room. And then his eyes find Johnny again, and he inquires, continuing their previous conversation on the phone, "What about you? Are yOu... okay...?”
Johnny mirrors Bobby's movement, nodding, lifting one hand to run through his hair and then clenching his fist as the movement above his shoulder somehow causes a twinge of pain. "I - like I toldja, I'm- fine. I don't need" don't need Kreese, don't need Cobra Kai.
He glances at his jacket, then down and back up, swipes at his bangs to give himself the second to keep his lips from trembling. Fuck.
And then he drops his hand as it's shaking, damnit.
"Sure," Bobby says, but it's not dismissive nor is it judgmental, just a simple reaction. Then, when it catches his attention, he jerks his head at Johnny's bed. "Is it okay if I sit down?”
Johnny jerks, looks at Bobby and then the bed. He gestures with his hand and says "sure" in an echo of Bobby's, adding “-yeah” voice rough again. Clearing his throat only makes the pain flare up worse. He drops to sit on the bed too, trying to breathe through it. This is bullshit, he definitely cut into his mouth with his teeth as a result of the kick LaRusso gave, and his whole face is sore... But that isn't bugging the shit out of him like this. No, it's this neck pain that makes it feel hard - almost impossible - to breathe.
As Bobby plops down, all at once he feels how tight his shoulders are. He rolls them then, slowly slipping his hands out of his pockets to hang freely in between his legs, bracing his elbows across them as he slouches.
They remain like that for a while. If he'd wished it, Johnny would probably leave the rest of the night alone and, ordinarily, Bobby would let him. But, they needed to talk about this... both of them, but especially Johnny– right? Or maybe he just wants to know where Johnny's head's at. Though he's not really one to pry, so he decides to talk about himself.
"I'm leaving Cobra Kai," he imparts into the room's dark void, as if confirming it to the universe. He had thrown his belt at Kreese, but really what he meant was– "I can't fight like that anymore, Johnny... That's not why I joined....”
Johnny holds his breath, feels his shoulders jerk. Once. Twice. He looks over at Bobby, briefly. Nods. Yeah, that makes sense. He isn't that surprised. "You pretty much told me... on Halloween… that you weren't up for- fighting like that." He coughs, deep, and squeezes his eyes shut from the pain, gasping at it, feeling his eyes fog up and hating it, hating the tears "I didn't listen, but I get it, I got it, tonight I..." Johnny sucks in air, damning the loss of control. He can stop this. He can do it. "I'm not goin' back either," he says so softly, head bowing. He clenches both hands in his hair, then, tendons taut as he feels like he's going to burn up from pain and -
Johnny drops his right hand from his hair and looks over at Bobby, trembling, burning and his eyes are bleary from tears that have started to fall in spite of every effort he's been making to stop them.
The sight instantly shatters Bobby's heart and, damning any and all of the Cobras' unspoken barriers laced with bravado, he sucks in a breath and swings an arm out, pulling Johnny – albeit a bit too hastily – into an embrace. But he doesn't care.
Damn Kreese. Damn that - that - that sick FUCKER. It makes him ill to think he ever associated with someone so vile, so cruel. To think he got swept up in that behavior, and nearly forgot himself. It took this, for his best friend in the world, to be at his lowest, looking as though he were silently begging– begging BOBBY, no less, of all people– for forgiveness. For not understanding sooner, for not listening to his apprehension.
Hindsight be damned too. What Kreese did was unacceptable. It was messed up. Johnny's just a kid... they all are. It was his responsibility as their sensei to look out for them, not to be the one to do harm.
"Dammit," he croaks, his own eyes burning a bit. "This is so messed up..." He gulps, lips trembling when he notices how much Johnny is shaking. "I'm sorry, Johnny. I'm so sorry –... 'cause I know he won't ever say it. You didn't deserve that, man. You didn't.”
Johnny lets out a high sound as Bobby pulls him in, and when the other says those words, he gasps out another noise, his left arm, his whole body shaking but nevertheless he throws his face against Bobby's shoulder, wraps his arm underneath the other boy's, hand gripping the back of his shirt close to his neck as he grabs onto Bobby with his right arm as well. Pressing his entire torso into his friend, still feeling that burning pain, he blurts "Bobby -" in a strangled, muffled tone.
"I gotcha, Johnny. I'm here, okay?" He provides a shaking smile even though Johnny won't be able to see it– wills himself to place it into his tone as well with the smallest bit of success. Because he means it. "I'm not goin' anywhere," he breathes, slowly shifting his chin to gently rest atop the other's head.
Johnny whimpers, tightening his arms as he closes his eyes and as much as he hates this, lets himself cry into Bobby's chest. He's here. He's here like Johnny deluded himself into thinking Kreese was - that he could have somebody take care of him and teach him, make him strong, build him up to be the best version of himself. A fighter. Yeah, right, Johnny tries to settle his breathing. Turns out Kreese wasn't any of that. And now they're leaving because of him. Johnny figures he's pretty lucky to bE leaving, or able to leave walking on his feet instead 'a actually ending up in a body bag.
"Thanks, man," he manages to respond finally, voice shaking.
Bobby nods, rubbing a few circles into Johnny's back with his hand. He shouldn't have to thank him for this. It goes without saying.
"Hey," he starts softly, very cautious in his movements, and dips his head to try to catch Johnny's eyes. He doesn't catch them right away so he chooses to settle with moving his more free hand, holding it up in a light fist in front of Johnny. This time he does smile, a small and slightly saddened one. They can get through this... it'll just - take time. "We got each other's back, right?”
Johnny opens his eyes as he feels Bobby move, sniffs and swipes at them before making a fist in return to knock against Bobby's lifted one. "We do. Or you do," his features crumple again as he looks in Bobby's face. "You stood up to him- first when he ...got me" in a chokehold. After Bobby already had the balls to quit. "You pulled off your belt -" his voice is a croak. He drops his head, shakes it. Lifts hand to what he knows are livid bruises on his neck and tries to stop himself from shaking. "You're a badass, Bobby. I was just - a pussy telling him I did my best and" he can't say sensei. Can't say his name either right now, which is probably just as much proof of that.
He knows it doesn't do Johnny any good if he tries to distract him from that pain, to make light of it. But not only is that not Bobby's way of doing things, he also - doesn't exactly know what to say.
"So did Tommy," Bobby reminds him, inclining his head when he spots a brief second of confusion. Okay, so maybe it was a bit of a distraction. "Jackass got him in the face pretty good. I didn't see where he went after that..."
No, Bobby recalls, he had stayed by Johnny's side until it was time to go home... or rather, he'd stayed until that shit snake slunk away into his busted-to-crap car and drove off. What the other Cobras did after that was their business. Knowing Dutch, he didn't give a damn, so fuck him. And Jimmy – well Jimmy probably froze... and if it had been ten years prior, little Bobby would have done the same. He doesn't blame him.
Bobby's eyes note the shadows of tree leaves shifting across the floor again. "I dunno about the rest of the guys, but... I don't think we'll be the only ones ditching - that place," he muses aloud. "I can talk to them at some point, if you want me to? Figure out where their heads are at.”
Johnny inhales, nostrils flaring, nose wrinkling. He chuckles wetly "yeah, Tommy. Crazy bastard," he says fondly, wiping at his cheeks again and clearing his throat. He looks at Bobby with eyes wide. "...yeah? You really think they'd all leave with us?" With me? "I'm not some big boss, I mean. I led there sometimes but-" he rubs with one forearm at his forehead, feels like he's starting to sweat. What is he gonna do now? "Karate's been a lot," he says instead, elucidating "I've spent a lotta time doin' it." We all have. And if I don't have it anymore, what do I do?
Bobby blinks in surprise, then shakes his head, disbelieving. "We're not looking for a boss, Johnny... Don't you get that?" He wrinkles up his face then, glaring down at his feet. "Kreese," he practically spits, "acted like that, treated everyone like cadets. That's not what I signed up for." He sighs through his nose. "I joined up because I wanted to be badass... and I wanted to hang out with my best friend." He gives him a sweet smile, flashing teeth. "I came to like the sport after that."
"What I'm gettin' at Johnny is... not everybody's like that. Don't be surprised if they dO follow us..." He rolls his shoulders again, feeling a lot less tension now. "And if they don't, well—... We'll, we can figure out the rest ourselves.”
Johnny blinks, tilts his head back and forth. Thinks about ribbing the guys, laughing, working with them. "Yeah I guess... I meant a leader, we needed -" he blinks hard. Focuses on the rest of Bobby's words and manages a small smile back before he drops his chin and nods. Yeah. They can figure it out. "Okay," he says. And then quickly "you know you're my best friend too. Even if nobody else leaves -" Johnny swallows, grips onto Bobby's hand with the one he'd clenched, now releasing for a brief hold. He's glad, it's good they will.
He wants ...to ask Bobby to stay, suddenly. Or rather he doesn't want him to go, because if he sits here in the dark alone he'll start thinking about what happened in the parking lot again.
There's no need to worry about that right now, Bobby wants to say, in a manner he's almost certain is a perfect parrot of his mother, and grasp Johnny's hand again for reassurance. Instead, in hearing the other boy confirm what he already knew, the dusty brunette beams, seizing an opportunity. "Whew," he sighs with a bit of dramatic flare, jesting to bring just a bit of levity, "an' here you had me worried you were going to say something crazy like Dutch was your best friend…”
Johnny drops his hands and then shoves at Bobby with a genuine smile that turns into a chuckle. "Yeah, right," he scoffs back. "Dutch is his own fuckin' friend." The smile stops as he thinks of how Dutch got after LaRusso before the matches - or during their match, only after being told to wait and have it out on the mat.
Bobby returns the laugh, which dies when Johnny's demeanor dissipates once more. Then, he gets an idea.
"Hey, Johnny..." he offers, feeling as though he already knows this answer. "Would you mind if I crashed here for the night...? My folks are probably going to have my ass for taking my bike out so late, and I don't really want to deal with that when I get home." When he gives the other a smile, there's a look of understanding that lights his eyes. At least this way... Johnny won't have to ask.
Johnny's brows rise. He shifts to pull blankets down on his bed. "Yeah, that's fine man." He could get out his sleeping bag or something, but his bed is big enough, and honestly, sleepovers are fine. He doesn't give a shit and Sid won't either as long as Johnny stays the hell out of his way and doesn't cause trouble, he says. "I'll getcha a pillow," up and moving to the closet with extra pillows and cases in, he nods towards his connected bathroom. "You know where shit is... I still have extra toothbrushes" for camping trips, or when the guys would come and hang out a few years ago. It wasn't super often, because of Sid's dickishness, so they went riding or camping or stayed late sparring at the dojo most often now. But - there's an ease to putting a pillow in a case for Bobby and chucking it softly at him. Having him lay out here, so Johnny's not alone. He's - well. He's glad about that tonight, for certain.
Bobby chuckles when he barely prevents the pillow from hitting his face, setting it down beside him. He gives his thanks then and stands, sliding his jacket off his shoulders and folding it once over the desk chair. He kicks off his shoes, hooking them with two fingers, and shuffles to set them neatly by the bedroom door. And finally, returning to the bed, he taps Johnny lightly on the arm with an open palm, gives him a small understanding smile, and excuses himself to the bathroom.
Johnny nods back to Bobby and, as he closes the bathroom door, pushes himself up and grabs a clean T-shirt and a pair of soft shorts. He strips off his current clothes, chucking then behind his bag, pointedly not looking at the insignia, and he balls up his headband, flinging it and flopping backwards onto the bed.
A few minutes later, Bobby exits the bathroom, brushing his hands off on his pants to assure they're dry. He tosses a glance at Johnny, watching him for a moment, then pipes up, "Do you mind if I borrow some pants? I'll do it, but I don't really want to wear jeans to bed if I can help it.”
Johnny huffs out a laugh. Oh yeah, he knows the pain and indignity of sleeping in jeans all-too-well, when he crashed back into his room after being blitzed out of his mind on Ali's birthday, for one... Bobby doesn't need a refresher on that day, he'd been the one helping Johnny into his bedroom. "Sure, grab some," his voice is hoarse but not quite so rough as he nods and points to the drawer he keeps his shorts and sweatpants in.
Bobby nods his thanks and heads for the dresser, grabbing a material he finds comfortable and heading to the bathroom once more. Several seconds pass and he returns, jeans folded, which he sets on top of the desk chair along with his rolled up socks. And, with a sigh, he sits down on the edge of the bed, takes a look at Johnny, then shifts himself to lay down, crossing his arms over his chest and interlacing his fingers.
Staring at the ceiling while he listens to Johnny's breathing, he murmurs, "You kicked ass at the tournament.”
Johnny blinks, inhales, huffs. Yeah. Okay. "-thanks," he says, shifting himself down and turning on his side to look at Bobby. "You did too, y'know.”
Bobby slightly inclines his head, considers, then decides, "Yeah," he chuckles, "I guess I did." His smile falls then. Right up until the end...
Is this what karate would be now? A bitter memory? Does he even want to keep doing it? All of the thrill went out the window tonight, deflating like a lead balloon.
He turns his head back a bit, though he's vaguely eying a spot on the wall when he initially starts to speak again, finding Johnny's eyes when he stops. "Could you imagine a fight against the guys if it wasn't practice...?" He shows teeth once again. "Who do you think would win – Dutch or Tommy?”
Johnny shivers in spite of himself at the way Bobby's expression drops. He feels suddenly as if he should move close, and instead lifts the blankets to pull them over and offer to Bobby. He scoffs at the notion. "Dutch would be a crazy bastard, but Tommy could come back and win against him," he says decisively. "He gave me a run for my money in the final two years ago, remember?”
Bobby takes the blanket, nodding and beaming now. "Tommy? Yeah, he's a monster... Cobra Kai –" He clears his throat, and corrects, "We made sure everyone knew we were the best in the Valley." And matter-of-factly, he adds in a lower tone as if he's not as certain, "Still are....”
"Yeah he is. And we are, or were - what are we now, though, huh? What're we gonna be?" Johnny's eyes are blazing and his voice takes on a fury that isn't directed at Bobby. He hopes Bobby knows, can tell that. "what're we gonna be, if we're not with - Kreese?" He can't call him sensei, not now. "Can we even be snakes, be cobras without him?" His voice has dropped to nearly a mumble, one hand clenching the sheets, knuckles bulging white even as his jaw clenches as tightly as his hand does.
The dusty haired boy rolls his head back and forth in a dramatic show of dismissal, scrunching up his face. "Screw the snakes... screw the cobras– that's HIS thing," he hisses disdainfully. "We were here before Cobra Kai, we'll be here after it too. Besides," he shifts a hand from his chest and hits the back of it against Johnny's own with a soft 'pap'. "They're not the only badass animal out there, right?”
Johnny exhales a long breath and nods. Right. Bobby's right. Or he wants to think he is, so bad. Johnny blinks back a burning that starts in his eyes again and clears his throat. "No they're not," he says, and slaps Bobby's hand back before getting hold of it. "I've always thought eagles...'re pretty badass," he says. "They see well enough to dive-bomb and snag a mouse like that!" He grips Bobby's hand with his fingers, trying to pretend that's the only reason he's holding it, to illustrate a point.
"Hey, yeah – you're right," Bobby agrees, absentmindedly returning the gesture with a gentle squeeze. "They eat snakes too, don't they...? Maybe?" He putters out a laugh, grinning wide. "I honestly wouldn't know – I barely pay attention in biology." Then, after another chuckle, "I don't even know why we learn any of that— when am I EVER going to need to know what a tiger eats?" And for the moment he's twelve again, hanging out at his best friend's house and chatting away about whatever nonsense comes to mind. It doesn't last long, because he knows what night it is and that's probably going to stick in his mind for the foreseeable future, but just that inkling is enough to warm his heart.
"What, you’re tellin' me you aren't gonna be a zookeeper, Bobby?" Johnny cracks. "I'd think you've already got practice, especially dealing with Tommy and Dutch..." And me, he thinks. Especially the crap I was pulling this year on LaRusso. Which you never were fully up for. "And you know all about my monkey business," he tries to joke, even as he feels heavy and cold, suddenly. He wonders if LaRusso had to go to the hospital tonight after he won. If his mom or sensei had to drive him, still in all that pain... Suddenly Johnny sees those brown eyes again, staring horrified at him before he really started choking and losing air.
Johnny shudders and curls in on himself, holding even tighter to Bobby's hand. He doesn't fully register that he's doing it, or that he's started to gasp a little bit. His chest is hurting, though, which is bullshit - that isn't where he got grabbed OR was kicked.
Bobby turns his head to fully look at Johnny now, noting the way his hand is being held. He says nothing about it, instead replying with "yeah... but that's done with now, right? You're good, Johnny.”
Am I, really? Johnny wants to say. Because Kreese was right, I did lose, and- now he's struggling for breath, for some reason, what the hell. He looks desperately at Bobby, still holding on to him, wanting, needing something….
Bobby's voice is gentle, tentative even as his heart is racing now from nervousness. "Whoa– hey... hey, Johnny, hey – it's okay, man." He lays his other hand along Johnny's arm, swiping his thumb across his skin. "Just breathe, okay?" He makes a point to have his own breathing be more audible. "Try to match me…”
Johnny blinks, tries inhaling, feels his breath catch. Fuck. He tries again, but he's struggling and it's scary. He thinks of Bobby hugging him, his face close to the other's chest, hearing his heart beat. And with a sort of whining gasp, trembling, he mouths "Bobby -" and moves sharply, rolling into the other's space and pressing face against his neck. He can breathe, Johnny has to breathe -
Normally he wouldn't do this, or he'd make some joke about it. Sarcastic, harsh. But he can't right now, not in the least because his heart is going crazy and he's struggling to breathe normally.
"Oh–" Bobby swallows hard, pressing his browline together tight. He tries his best to pull Johnny to him, moving one arm to cradle just below the back of his friend's neck and the other to scooch him closer. "Okay, Johnny... Okay. I got you," he assures, actively focusing on his own breathing so that his own nerves don't serve to panic the other further. It pains him to see him like this, but it does little good to lose any composure now. "I got you, man.”
At the way Bobby's holding him and moving him closer, the little part of Johnny that isn't panicking over breathing or not breathing stops his chest from seizing up tighter. His air explodes out as he clutches Bobby back. Okay. Okay, focus. Bobby's got him... He feels him breathe as much as he starts trying to listen for his heartbeat, not the crazy fast pounding of his own heart in his ears. "He was- gonna," Johnny gasps "-he wasn't gonna stop..." He can't say Kreese, or sensei, or anything. But he can't help thinking about those moments again, when the crazy comments turned to action and he couldn't do anything.
"He - he was stopped, Johnny," Bobby tries, chest aching when an echo of the uselessness he felt reverberates through him. He'd like to say that they wouldn't have let him, because it's true... but they were kids too, and eventually fear just stopped them from moving. And all they could do was protest, crying out like woeful pups. So he just continues to remind him, voice still tender: "It didn't happen, okay. You're safe. It won't happen again, you hear me...?" The guys and me... we won't ever let that happen, he's sure of it.
"And - Miyagi," Johnny's voice is rough and small as he hauls in a breath, eased a little by Bobby's words. "That...old man took him out- he barely even lifted, hadta lift a finger." It's whirling in his head, how LaRusso won against him by doing the same thing, fighting back defensively. He always thought Kreese's teachings were so great, tough and badass... But, as he inhales and exhales, thinking of his friends sticking with him, and Miyagi and even LaRusso coming over too... Somehow, for some reason, people still have his back.
"I know" is all Bobby can bring himself to say, brushing his hand across Johnny's back, patting him very lightly. He remembers. He remembers seeing Kreese's hands turned into mince meat by an old guy that let their sensei's rage get the better of him. He remembers staring at that same man as he walked away with a hobbling Daniel, unable to relish in the sorry excuse of a man keeled over in pain on the ground, those hands that had hurt Johnny put out of commission. He'd felt numb, reeling from it all. And Johnny, well... Johnny was the only thought on his mind.
Johnny relaxes into the touch, feeling his chest ease. Somehow voicing that, and Bobby knowing, being here, being okay with Johnny holding on to him like this... It all gets his heart to slow, his breathing under more control. The old man came to help him, same as he'd helped LaRusso. Didn't seem to matter that he'd been the one beating the hell out of Daniel, even if it should. Bobby's right, he's okay - or he made it, at least. He doesn't know what he's gonna do now but at least "and you stuck with me," it's almost a question, not quite a statement; he finds himself awed by it, because that whole thing had been hell. He doesn't think he could blame any of the guys for leaving, but they stayed.
Bobby lowers his head, glancing down at the blond head of hair buried in his chest. "Yeah, Johnny," he confirms in a whisper. "Yeah, we did." Maybe it's wishful thinking, but he hopes– he prays– that Tommy standing up as he had, Jimmy checking in right as everyone peeled out of there... Maybe, just maybe, they feel the same. They won't be Cobra Kai anymore, but this... what they have together will never die.