[ Daniel remembers talking with someone on his first day in this place who told him that this city sometimes makes you see things. Deep down he knows that's what happened with the gravestone that seemed like mister Miyagi's - but this feels like it, too. How else is he supposed to see this situation? Waking up with Robby right there, talking to him and looking at him like nothing ever changed. Like it's last summer all over again. Before any of Daniel's mistakes, before a year that was so hectic that it all of a sudden was a year later already, and Daniel's life spiralled into a Terry Silver-flavoured mess so badly that he didn't even have time to fully think about Robby anymore, other than feeling relieved to know he wasn't with Cobra Kai anymore, that he was safe.
Like none of the moments of rejection ever happened. Even with Daniel's head hurting, and even with so many memories of only a few hours ago being incredibly hazy, he can recall them clear as day with the sheer amount of times he's played them back over the months in his head like an awful film reel. The sheer amount of time Robby looked him in the eyes across the Valley, always with the same wall, replayed in Daniel's own mind like it was a punishment to himself for screwing up so much with Robby in the first place.
That can't be real.
(I'm real, Daniel vaguely recalls, the words in Robby's own voice.)
The man sits there, unmoving, his face seemingly frozen in some sort of shock for a few moments while Robby speaks.
It's only when the boy's expression shifts, just that faint trace of a smile, that Daniel's expression shifts in turn. Not to a smile, though. Instead the man continues to stare at Robby, only realising that his eyes have filled up with tears when he blinks and can feel it sting.
He doesn't deserve this, not after everything. He doesn't deserve Robby's smiles, nor Robby's presence in this place. Because there's a part of Daniel that's glad for it - for both those things - but he knows it's horribly selfish at the same time. Robby shouldn't be here. He should be at home, he should be safe, but to see Robby even slightly smile at him again, the way Daniel thought he'd never see again..
He presses his lips tightly together, sniffs, and can feel one or two of the tears spill as he reaches up a slow arm - still groggy in the middle of this hangover - to wipe at his eyes.
There's so much he ought to say right now, but he can't feel the familiar weight of the phone on him right now, the way it's been sitting in his pocket for weeks, the only connection between him and communicating with the rest of the world.
Daniel pulls his hand back, hoping his eyes feel more dry. ]
I-- I.. I'mmm..
[ The man clearly struggles to speak, but he presses on anyway. He has to tell Robby this. Even if he has no clue where his phone is - god, did he drop it between the gravestone and wherever this is, maybe the place Robby is staying at? - he has to say it.
He couldn't live with himself otherwise, not with that face Robby is so graciously making at him. ]
..'m sorry..
[ It's not good enough, but even just saying these words feels like taking sandpaper to his own throat.
He'll find a phone, he'll press on through the way his body feels like it's working against him even more than it has lately, because he has to let Robby know this. It feels more important than anything else right now.
Don't smile at me like that, because I failed you more than anyone else.
no subject
Like none of the moments of rejection ever happened. Even with Daniel's head hurting, and even with so many memories of only a few hours ago being incredibly hazy, he can recall them clear as day with the sheer amount of times he's played them back over the months in his head like an awful film reel. The sheer amount of time Robby looked him in the eyes across the Valley, always with the same wall, replayed in Daniel's own mind like it was a punishment to himself for screwing up so much with Robby in the first place.
That can't be real.
(I'm real, Daniel vaguely recalls, the words in Robby's own voice.)
The man sits there, unmoving, his face seemingly frozen in some sort of shock for a few moments while Robby speaks.
It's only when the boy's expression shifts, just that faint trace of a smile, that Daniel's expression shifts in turn. Not to a smile, though. Instead the man continues to stare at Robby, only realising that his eyes have filled up with tears when he blinks and can feel it sting.
He doesn't deserve this, not after everything. He doesn't deserve Robby's smiles, nor Robby's presence in this place. Because there's a part of Daniel that's glad for it - for both those things - but he knows it's horribly selfish at the same time. Robby shouldn't be here. He should be at home, he should be safe, but to see Robby even slightly smile at him again, the way Daniel thought he'd never see again..
He presses his lips tightly together, sniffs, and can feel one or two of the tears spill as he reaches up a slow arm - still groggy in the middle of this hangover - to wipe at his eyes.
There's so much he ought to say right now, but he can't feel the familiar weight of the phone on him right now, the way it's been sitting in his pocket for weeks, the only connection between him and communicating with the rest of the world.
Daniel pulls his hand back, hoping his eyes feel more dry. ]
I-- I.. I'mmm..
[ The man clearly struggles to speak, but he presses on anyway. He has to tell Robby this. Even if he has no clue where his phone is - god, did he drop it between the gravestone and wherever this is, maybe the place Robby is staying at? - he has to say it.
He couldn't live with himself otherwise, not with that face Robby is so graciously making at him. ]
..'m sorry..
[ It's not good enough, but even just saying these words feels like taking sandpaper to his own throat.
He'll find a phone, he'll press on through the way his body feels like it's working against him even more than it has lately, because he has to let Robby know this. It feels more important than anything else right now.
Don't smile at me like that, because I failed you more than anyone else.
(But also-- don't stop, please.) ]