Daniel is missing out on it entirely. He has no idea about what's going on today in a different part of the city - a man with absolutely no clue that there was an item waiting for him there. A framed photo that had been stored away back home, a picture of a man and a boy proudly smiling together next to the Miyagi-do sign, taken back when they restored mister Miyagi's house together. A photo wrapped in paper for storage, Robby's name written on it, just as a reminder to Daniel himself as to what it was. A photo he kept finding back home, kept thinking about - a desire to put it back up when the boy would return to the dojo turned into the idea of instead gifting it to Robby, the more Daniel realised that maybe Robby was just never coming back. Especially when, after seemingly having left Cobra Kai, the boy was staying with Johnny now.
(Daniel never blamed Robby, not even when he heard that. He knew what he did. He knew his own guilt. Robby not approaching him again had nothing to do with Robby, and everything to do with the things Daniel did that pushed the boy away in the first place. Of course Robby wouldn't want to see him again. Daniel failed him. Worse than anyone, if Robby was willing to forgive Johnny, but not him.)
Rather than having any idea about that happening, the man can instead be found sitting in the odd cemetary-like part of the park, back where he found the gravestone with mister Miyagi's name on it on his first day in this place.
He didn't know where else to go. Even though Daniel has been trying to keep himself busy with trying to take care of some of the teenagers in this place, he still feels.. lonely. Broken. He keeps jumping at shadows, terrified of seeing one specific face around any possible corner. His voice still hasn't returned, making communication incredibly difficult, and the bruises that still linger on his face and neck sure don't make him give off the best first impression to anyone either. Daniel just doesn't know what to do, and even if seeing mister Miyagi's name on the gravestone might have been a fluke-- it's the only thing he has to go on here. It's the only place he feels he can find some solace in this crazy city that doesn't seem to be letting go of him.
Hence the current display one might come across. Daniel sitting on his knees in front of one of the gravestones, a very much empty bottle of sake on the ground next to him.
He doesn't even seem to hear or notice it if someone approaches. Instead his eyes stare at the gravestone as if in a daze. ]
It takes Robby a while to find out. He wasn't immediately interested in the new open district, but a lack of anything better to do drew him there, and the gossip of the bank led him that way in particular. Items belonging to people, doors shutting behind them--but where others had been compelled to speak, Robby felt a tugging at his heart from the photo he found, his mouth only opened to gape at it. An image that confused him, for the faces and when it was taken--because the boy with the bobbed cut hair looked so unfamiliar, and the arm around his shoulders puzzled him.
Until it hit him, like none of the ghosts of this city had so far been able to affect him. A memory that belonged to another Robby Keene than him, long gone, unreachable; a time locked by the burnt bridge and closed dojos.
He assumes it must be his item, like others were receiving; until a bump-in with another person reveals differently, offers him another hit he hadn't seen coming. He's here--has been this entire time, but Robby's never seen him. How? Why not? How long? Searching the contacts on the phone helps him find evidence, but his texts go unresponded to, which leaves Robby searching. He could wait. He doesn't want to wait.
He looks everywhere his feet will take him, the phone in his pocket on vibrate and the wrapped photo and its frame in clutched by his stomach to make sure it won't fall as easily out of his hand.
It's a stupid fucking search. The city's empty, but the city's big, even without the added district to give more places to look. Robby doesn't want to think about it initially, asking people along the way if they've seen the man in the photo, then continuing on. But the high of this information starts to dwindle, he thinks there's nothing better he can do than to wait for a response. It's the reasonable option that makes his mind hazy, makes him look at the covered paper with his name written in a hand that isn't his.
His fingers tremble. A part of him wonders if they're all going crazy, imagining people there that aren't, and what he would do anyway? If Mister LaRusso would want to see him, where he should even begin with that conversation.
And Robby doesn't have an answer by the time he sees a figure. A frame of a body hunched by one of the stone gravestones, one that doesn't stand out in one second--the other, freezes Robby in both movement and breath.
(There's a wetness that's been building in the back of his throat, behind his eyes; and it's the idea of having a piece of home that compels Robby maybe more than the man himself. There's reasons for him to stay away, there's a chasm of disappointment he willingly made; but he's selfish, he wants what he doesn't deserve, and he's willing to push down all those complicated emotions, like they don't matter, for a chance to not feel so alone.
So he tells himself. As if seeing Mister LaRusso doesn't scare him, as if what Robby did to him and everyone isn't what freezes him, makes him stop.)
His throat doesn't want to work, despite the lips that twitch; seconds feel like minutes as indecision works to chain Robby in place, or even to pull him away. But despite it all, despite the fog in his head and the drumming of his heartbeat: ]
Mister LaRusso? --Mister LaRusso!
[ He calls out, and starts stumbling forward as he gets his feet to work. ]
[ The sound of footsteps doesn't even seem to register with Daniel. He sits there so unmoving that it's almost as if the man might somehow be a statue, fitting right in with the headstones standing all over the place.
But then he slowly moves, proving to be real. It's not a big movement, but the man's head does turn. It's a very slow turn, like Daniel's attention needs to be torn away from the - nameless - stone he was staring at, rather than the usual quick reaction he'd have to that voice of all voices calling his name. An actual familiar voice in the middle of an unfamiliar city with unfamiliar people.
Even if his reaction isn't quick, however, it is still very much a reaction. With Robby getting closer to him, the boy might be able to see that there is recognition in the man's eyes, even if his gaze looks unfocused in the way drunk people's gazes typically tend to look. The bruises on the side of his face have started to discolour, but those combined with the tracksuit he's wearing, and the fact that it doesn't look like he's exactly kept up with shaving his face-- It's probably not giving off the prettiest of images.
Not that Daniel is thinking about that. It's really hard to think of much of anything right now, when trying to form thoughts in his head feels very much like trying to make his way through a pool of water with the consistency of thick soup.
There's only one thought in his mind because of it. A singular thought that hasn't bloomed in all the complicated thoughts that surround it yet, his mind too slow to react, but a strong thought all the same.
One that the man seems to try and voice, even if no sound leaves his throat. But despite the lack of noise, his lips are very clearly going for the name Robby, the man looking like he's unable to tear his gaze away from the boy approaching him. ]
[ He'd both noticed it, and hadn't--the state of the man, only half-visible from where Robby had been coming from, and Mister LaRusso kneeling. But it's when the man looks at him (his sensei-- his, his original sensei) that the unkempt state becomes clearer, the bruising that's now yellowing from age. The way his eyes have trouble focusing on him, and all of it confuses Robby, is Mister LaRusso okay?
Robby doesn't know what to think, nearly slows briefly, but picks up the pace until he's close enough to catch sight of the bottle, and the alarm bells further go off in his head. ]
Mister LaRusso-- [ There's an urgency, a confusion; his mind trying to figure out what's happened, what could make him look this way, but Robby's kneeling all the same, he's putting his hands on his shoulders, he's close enough to smell the alcohol without trying. ] Are you okay? We should get you indoors. It's okay, it's gonna be alright.
[ He could try giving the man a moment to speak, but between the alcohol and the mess of him, Robby's letting his own mouth move, say what it wants, like of course it's something about this place that's gotten to him. Or is it someone? Did someone get to him--
Still, he's not immediately trying to help the man to his feet. There's time for him to say something, if he will. ]
[ Daniel's brain suddenly has so much to process. Going from processing nothing but his own fear and grief that he's already intimately familiar with in the first place to trying to process all of this is quite the leap, and even more so when alcohol is controlling Daniel's brain more than anything right now.
Not that he isn't making an effort. Even if his eyes seem glassy, it does look like they're trying to focus on Robby as well as they can, considering the man's current state. Even with the way he is right now, Daniel's brain can at least still inform him this is important.
Because it's Robby. Of course Daniel hasn't forgotten who he is, not even while under the influence. It's Robby, and he's right here. Daniel doesn't know why he's here in this city of all places, and if he were more sober he might wonder if it was somehow an illusion like people claimed the name on the gravestone was - or wonder more about just how long Robby has been here already.
As things are right now, though, Daniel's mind is mostly just focusing on the thought of Robby itself, rather than wondering all these things. The hands on his shoulders feel like a surprisingly steadying presence. He listen to the other's rambling words, even if maybe only half of them actually manage to reach Daniel's brain, rather than just his ears.
Robby's here, he just thinks, all words falling on deaf ears when faced with the sheer loudness of that thought in his mind.
Daniel opens his mouth, and though it seems he's making an attempt to speak, there's nothing coming from his mound other than a strange choked sound. It's clear he's trying to tell Robby something though, since the man's eyes don't leave the boy, not even for a moment, not even when his attempt at speaking fails enough that it seems to hurt Daniel's throat, making the man wince slightly. Something Robby can probably feel better underneath his hands more so than actually see.
His gaze only leaves Robby when the man starts patting himself down - and with the way he's currently very much lacking coordination, it takes him a few moments before he's even found the pocket he was keeping the phone in, let alone manage to pull it out. Yet something about the man's movements seems weirdly determined, almost frantic, like this is important to him.
(Robby is here, and Robby-- When Daniel thinks of Robby, there's only one thought that rises above all others, that rises above the haze of alcohol.
He has to apologize to him.)
Despite his own hands shaking, Daniel manages to type out enough on his phone to make the robotic voice speak up. ]
Robby.
[ Nevermind the fact Daniel didn't quite manage proper capitalisation or punctuation there for once in his life - at least the phone picked up on that one all the same.
.. unlike the next one. Because Daniel types more, but it comes out completely garbled, unable to type clearly in his current state. Enjoy listening to the verbal robotic equivalent of a keysmash right after, Robby.
At least Daniel does seem to realise his attempt to tell Robby more failed, making his big brown eyes take on the vibe of a guilty puppy dog. ]
[ He hears a noise, waits--and the quiet between them confuses Robby, but is easily brushed aside. A sore throat, too much drinking; maybe the man's going to be sick, and getting up immediately isn't a good thing, or is it? But then Mister LaRusso's distracted, and he says while he's looking-- ] I have the keys to my place. We can go there.
[ If keys are what Mister LaRusso's looking for. It's where his mind goes, until the phone is pulled out; and he hates the sight of it, similar to his own--the phone they all have, showing that they're stuck here. Robby chews on his bottom lip as he only half-sees what the man is doing.
He hears, instead. When his name comes out, in a voice he isn't expecting; a part of him wants to look around, but Robby knows where it comes from, brows stitching together, puzzled, as he stares at the phone. The noise that follows. ]
Mister LaRusso... [ He starts slowly, the fear of the area around them cooling to the new uncertainty before him. The urge to get Mister LaRusso to his feet, the worry of their own history. ] ...What happened? Did...someone do something to you?
[ His brain is clicking, in a way that doesn't feel right. The noise the man made before he grabbed the phone, using it that way, the state of him right now. He's looking at him, a possibility he doesn't want to believe coming to mind: did someone hurt Mister LaRusso? Here? Do something to his throat?
It should spring back his desire. It will. For now, the mere thought of such a thing--that anyone would come for Mister LaRusso like this-- is-- it's nothing he's considered before. ]
[ Daniel does seem to hear him. He looks away from the phone he tried to use, gaze fluttering up to instead meet Robby's as the boy speaks. And despite Daniel's current state, he does actually hear the words, does actually register them in his mind.
If the fact that he actually looks Robby in the eyes while he listens doesn't say that enough, then Daniel's reaction probably speaks for itself. The moment he asks Daniel if someone did something to him, the guilt and sadness in the man's eyes seems to increase, and it's as if he's suddenly entirely unable to hold Robby's gaze at all, unfocused or not. Instead Daniel looks down, staring at the ground right in front of him. Something about him looks-- wrong. Broken. There's something similarly raw in it as his reaction back during Valley Fest, but somehow enlargened an endless number of times.
It seems that his brain does realise that he's not going to be able to properly type on his phone while he's like this, so he lowers it, before it just slips out of his hands entirely and lands on the ground between the two of them.
He can't let Robby worry about him. Not when Daniel should be apologizing to him. He can't let him know what happened.
The words repeat in his mind, the alcohol slamming them all together until it feels like a big mess up in there.
He's finally meeting Robby again - and he can't seem to figure out what to do, or if to do anything at all. ]
The words burn into him, his throat, his being--he wants to find whoever did this and put his hand on their throat in the same instance he knows he needs to stay. Because who would? Why would they? Robby's staring at the dropped phone, and he wants to know, like he could go and do something about it now.
His fingers start to flex against Mister LaRusso's back, but he stops them. He sucks in a breath, he picks up the phone. ]
Come on, [ he says instead; pushing down on his emotions, biting back what he can't swallow, ] --let me take you back. It's gonna be okay.
[ This time, he doesn't ramble, but moves his legs under him ready to stand, nudging the man beside him with his weight to help to bring him up. Hopes he won't be denied, like maybe he deserves to be; but whatever he deserves doesn't matter, really. It's getting Mister LaRusso somewhere safe. It's getting him taken care of that matters.
There's nowhere here safe, but there's better options than with a bottle and a graveyard said to fuck with your head with the names you'll see. (And Robby might think about it later, why Mister LaRusso was here--
then again, it might not even matter next to the rest suffering him.) ]
[ It seems that Robby's help is accepted. It could be for a myriad of reasons - but that would mostly be if Daniel was sober, right now. If his mind was properly capable of trying to weigh the pros and cons of letting Robby help him like this, considering how complicated of a situation everything involving the other boy is.
But Daniel's mind can't do that now. He just knows he's being nudged, and that Robby seems to want him up, and so Daniel listens. If there's one thought that can still reach his brain, it's the one that tells him he doesn't want Robby to worry about him, after all. And Robby will probably worry him if he stays here, won't he? He seems so worried right now, something about his facial expression that Daniel can't quite place.
(Robby worrying about him feels so foreign though, almost surprising, and his mind tries to piece together why it feels that way - vague memories of a smiling boy, of karate together, of Robby looking so sad sitting out on a chair in a yard, a frown on the boy's face as he utters get lost--
His mind fails, of course.)
At least Daniel's body doesn't seem to fully fail. With some help on Robby's part the man does manage to get back onto his feet. Not the most steady, and he's definitely swaying, but at least he isn't also just tumbling right over and crumbling into a pile on the floor. So it's something. It's workable.
Still, he isn't too sure about walking right now. Not on his own, anyway. And Daniel's instinct - even while drunk! - is to ask Robby if it's okay to lean on him, but..
.. well, it's not like that's really an option when he can't speak, right. His throat is useless, his phone is useless.
And while the default Daniel option would be to just try to walk on his own all the same, there's a few less inhibitions when he's this drunk. So rather than assuming the worst and trying to do it all himself, he instead is the one to wrap his arm around Robby's shoulders - not fully leaning on the boy, thankfully, since that might be a little bit too much weight.. but there's definitely some of his weight being shifted onto Robby as a support to try and walk that way.
Sorry if you're awkwardly stuck to your ex-sensei's side now, Robby. ]
[ Robby's used to an unsteady weight. Granted, his mom was never this heavy, never this frame, and even Sam was smaller, easier to handle; but he knows to expect the unexpected, concerns himself about which was the man might go instead of up. How drunk is he? There's variables that can never be predicted, only hoping to be caught as they happen.
But they're standing, Robby pressing his free hand to Mister LaRusso's chest (so his current going up doesn't too easily go down). Waits with a quiet 'Okay?' that he knows he won't get a verbal answer for, but hopefully he gets a nod or shake. Regardless, time is given, and then the arm comes over his own shoulders. Robby sucks in air through his nostrils that bring in the smell of alcohol, of something sour. Or maybe it's a taste already in the back of his throat where those words had been, the worry for the state of the man he's helping to keep standing. ]
This way. [ Every time he speaks feels wrong, awkward, stilted. But every time is a necessity (even knowing who did this to Mister LaRusso--that still is, but it can wait), because as he guides the man to follow his lead, to turn in the right direction and continue to walk the path Robby had been taking, he won't speak. Not the things that might need to be spoken; the conversations and apologies owed, felt, important to their lives before this city, with the Californian sun. He could chew on the topics without processing any part of them, without considering how to start, the middle or end; and Robby thinks he's chewing on plenty as he walks, stopping if he feels Mister LaRusso pull away from him, a 'hey, this way' to bring them back in a drunken sync.
--But he's not going to speak about it out here. Even if the walk takes about ten, fifteen minutes to finally reach the apartments, buildings that look the same. He says, 'We're on the first floor' before they pass through the front doors, and 'This way' for the direction they turn; following the line of repeating front entrances before they come across one.
Robby needs to fumble for the key, trying to paw at the pocket with his opposite hand (that grabbed the hand resting over his shoulder during their walk), but failing.
'Sorry, I just need to-- get the key.' He lowers the arm around Mister LaRusso's back, hopes that with them standing already close to the wall that the man will be fine, and finally gets the thing from his jacket, exhales as he jams it into the lock and gets it open. He feels lightheaded, drunk himself, but he keeps himself together as he finishes the last part. Through the open kitchen-and-living room space, over to another door he doesn't need to fuss with to open. A standard apartment space, nothing out of the ordinary. There's clothes on the end of a bed, a plastic bag on a dresser and a sock on the floor.
Robby doesn't think about the mess until he's gotten Mister LaRusso to the bed. ] Careful, okay? [ He doesn't hurry this part either, though he's more used to being able to drape the weight down easier to lay. But Mister LaRusso has more than his mother, he doesn't want him to dizzy himself, and so even if Mister LaRusso wants to go down, Robby will try to slow him with his hands coming to rest on his shoulders.
And even if he doesn't start toppling, that's where they will be: cautiously, carefully. Watching with concern. ]
Even though it takes plenty of time to get to the apartment, even though the state of the apartment is something Daniel would definitely note if his mind was clearer - none of that seems to matter right now. It's already hard enough to keep his brain and body in line enough to keep moving, to keep himself upright the entire way, rather than sprawling out on the sidewalk. There are moments of thoughts about Robby, half-remembered hazy memories from their time back home, but also moments where the man threatens to forget who's even helping him in the first place, until he glances sideways at Robby's face and remembers all over again.
It's mostly just a haze. If you'd ask Daniel what happened between the graveyard and him now sitting on the bed here, he wouldn't be able to tell you - and not just because he's unable to use his voice. For all he knows, he was just.. suddenly here.
Sitting on a bed. In an apartment. (Thankfully not having collapsed on top of it, though that last drop to the bed was definitely faster than it'd be for most people who would just sit down normally.)
With Robby in front of him.
Daniel stares at the boy with that same unfocused look in his eyes, but there's something more to it. Something more complicated. Not angry, for sure, but maybe not happy either-- if it comes close to any emotion in particular, it mostly just seems sad.
(But then again, that's been an emotion that's always easily reflected in Daniel's eyes.)
He thinks about the situation, remembers bed, and a single thought rises to the man's mind of having to take off his shoes. Right, for bed-- he needs to take them off.
A task that's easier said than done, and Daniel probably looks absolutely ridiculous for a moment as he tries to kick off his shoes, not realising he should probably undo the laces first. It threatens to make him look miserable, but then he leans forward to try and undo said laces - probably needing some support from Robby there to keep him from fully toppling over. It's a sloppy attempt, but he does finally manage to get his shoes off after a few more moments, and then he moves backwards to just let himself fully drop on the bed from his seated position this time.
It's like the world is spinning - his head pounding for some reason.
(Mister Miyagi, Robby, Terry Silver, the city--
What is real? What fake?)
He feels so dizzy, but he's not closing his eyes just yet. Instead the man turns his head, seeming to try and look at Robby, even from his current position. ]
[ They're looking at each other. The moment once Mister LaRusso's sitting on the bed, after Robby's stood long enough with his hands on his shoulders and is sure he won't topple and takes a step back--they see each other. Eyes that look so pitiful with their surrounding decor, the bruise with its ugly discolouration, the unshaven mess of Mister LaRusso's jawline; and yet it's his gaze, struggling as it is to hold properly, that affects Robby the most.
He casts his own away, sideways, lips parting to a tongue that licks across them. He shuffles a step back, and the words he'd like to say don't come.
And before they might think to, the man is falling forward. ]
Mister LaRusso--...
[ So Robby starts, but the name falters as he sees it's not falling--it's Mister LaRusso going for his shoes, the things he saw him trying to struggle a second with. He hurries a ] Wait, [ as his hands this time reach for his elbows, an elbow, in a pausing gesture while he kneels. Mister LaRusso can't argue, can he? He can't move as easily as he can, Robby untying the laces and pulling off the footwear, or at least getting the knots undone so they can be peeled off easier.
He won't even look up. Mister LaRusso doesn't need him to look up(, and looking down is so more comfortable. It's where his shame sits). ]
Just rest. [ He gets back onto his feet, seeing Mister LaRusso's form without settling onto it; lips that pinch together, a throat that swallows, a brain that wonders what Mister LaRusso would be saying if he could speak. If he was thinking clearly.
He should get him water, but water depends on a person being conscious enough to receive it. Mister LaRusso's slipping (falling) onto the bed, and he has to look to see his state. See how conscious he is, if his eyes are closed or opened, if maybe he should speak now, ask him if he wants anything.
But he meets his gaze again, and it's a look he doesn't want to read into. His own drops once more. His fingers flex at his sides. ]
...I'm real. [ He thinks. He's as real as Mister LaRusso is right now, he's sure, but what amount of real a person can and can't be--Robby doesn't know. He isn't sure in this place.
He just knows that he might not be the person Mister LaRusso wants to see, and wonders if he should admit as much; start the conversation that needs to be had between them. But like every other instance he's had, every other opportunity: ]
...Just rest. [ He wraps his fingers into fists, loose and weak. ] Nothing's gonna happen, so- it's alright.
[ Daniel's gaze shifts. Not at Robby saying that he should rest, or that it's alright - it's before that. While lying on the bed, while staring at Robby.. It's the moment that the boy says he's real. It's hard to tell what the shift exactly is, considering how hazy Daniel's eyes seem right now, but it's still like something changes about the man just a little bit when he hears those words.
Even if it isn't clear how much he's processing them. But some part of Daniel must be, because his gaze shifts. Because his mouth moves, even if no sound comes out, like there's something he wants to tell Robby but can't. Even lip reading would be an impossible challenge with Daniel's current state, where he'd probably slur all the words together even if he had a voice.
Still, it's like he's trying to say something. Something he's desperately trying to convey to the boy, actively fighting the urge to sleep to try and say it instead, even in the face of an obvious failure to speak aloud.
Maybe that's why Daniel instead moves. His body is too heavy to fully move, but.. he shifts just a little on the bed, and a moment later it's mainly his arm that's making the bigger movement. It's no quick movement, nothing that would make someone jump, but even the slow movement is enough to bring Daniel's hand closer and closer to Robby's, until his fingers - clumsily - latch onto Robby's wrist.
It's not a tight hold, but Daniel seems to also be trying to do his best to not let it slip - either because Daniel himself can't keep his arm up, or because Robby might try to twist his way out of it.
He continues to hold the boy's wrist, something in the man's gaze pleading.
There's no words, but the implication might be obvious all the same. It's practically written in Daniel's eyes as he continues to look at the other, if Robby bothers to - or can at all - look at Daniel.
[ Robby might've left. No, he definitely would've: to let the man get some rest in peace, while he stayed in the living room, checking in now and then to make sure-- what, that Mister LaRusso's still there? Breathing? Okay? All of the above, really. In this place, he would have that fear: that the body he helped bring all the way to this apartment, feeling his weight, hearing the sounds of his harsh breathing--that it amounted to nothing. His bed would be empty, Mister LaRusso gone.
It's a rational fear in this city. Isn't it? It has to be.
But Mister LaRusso shifts, he attempts to speak, and the effort to move--the possibility that he might try to get up--makes Robby look at him than at the view of his sneakers. Watching the clumsy attempt at speaking, his own throat feeling as if it's closing up itself to witness. A brain that fails to figure out what it is the man wants to say, but then he's leaning, shifting, reaching.
--The phone? A momentary thought, one that comes with his hand (luckily) circling around his front to feel for his pockets, figuring out which side it was on. It means, briefly, his hand is close--it means it doesn't get to touch his jacket, when instead Mister LaRusso grabs it. A touch of skin that's startling despite the strength that isn't there.
He stares down at it, a confusion in his features that he looks back over at Mister LaRusso with. But he sees there, the request looking right back at him, and Robby stands speechless; maybe bracing, for some change in the expression that throws accusation at him instead.
It doesn't come. He closes his parted lips, just for a second. ]
I'll stay. [ He's not sure where he'll stay, but a look over and, oh, right. He reaches out with his free hand, but doesn't tug himself away from Mister LaRusso's grip, towards the chair by the small desk stuffed in the corner. ] See? I'll be there. Then as soon as you wake up, we have panadol if you need it. We can talk.
[ Well, one of them will do the talking--but he's not correcting himself on that. ]
[ The desperation doesn't fully leave Daniel's eyes - as if that feeling is so strong that it refuses to let go of him so easily, even though Robby quickly gives in to what Daniel is asking of him here.
It's an ask that usually wouldn't have come. Not if Daniel was sober. After everything, he wouldn't have dared to ask Robby to stick around for him. Because Daniel doesn't feel like he deserves it, sure, but also because the idea of facing yet another Robby rejection makes asking for it in the first place much too daunting.
But right now he can't think about that. He can only think about the feeling strongest and frontmost in his heart - the desire to have Robby stay here, so they can talk later, because Daniel has so much to say to the boy.
Because he doesn't want to lose him. Not the first familiar thing this city has truly given him, when it's all felt like some sort of purgatory Terry Silver kicked him straight into.
Maybe he can make one good thing out of it if he can at least apologize to Robby.
He doesn't let go of the wrist, but Daniel's eyes are clearly starting to struggle with the whole 'being awake' business. His eyelids start to fall multiple times, quickly opening again when Daniel realises he's falling asleep and wants to still look at Robby despite the boy's request for him to rest, but it's a losing battle.
Eventually Daniel's eyes don't open up again when they flutter shut, only the rising and falling of his chest betraying the fact that he is, in fact, thankfully just asleep rather than dead. The hold on Robby's wrist is still there, but it's so loose and slack at this point that it's easy to shrug off without even waking Daniel up. ]
It's okay, [ Robby says, words that feel like he's repeating them. Is he? Everything he's said has been that message in some form, attempting to make it sound true; to make it so Mister LaRusso will relax, that he'll give himself the time he needs. And he needs it, by the way he looks so ragged; not just by the marks on his face or the 5 o'clock shadow he's never seen Mister LaRusso wear. It's the way his eyelids weigh down on his face despite his attempts, and that's at least one side effect of drinking too much.
How easy it can be to sleep. Robby watches it happening to him, tugging on a lop-sided smile, pressing his hand to the back of Mister LaRusso's around his wrist; so he can take it, slip it down so he can cup the older hand in both of his, wait until his first sensei's eyes have closed--and been closed for a while--before he leaves it to rest on the bed.
And then Robby stands there, in case Mister LaRusso might stir again, look up; or if he might disappear, like he still isn't sure won't happen. It doesn't come to pass, and eventually he decides he should get a class of water and the panadol he promised, leave it in a spot where Mister LaRusso can reach it when he wakes up. Make him some dried toast, maybe--he doesn't know if he has bacon, but he could go and get some. Bacon, toast, and scrambled eggs.
But one try of the door does nothing but rattled the handle. The same on the second try, the same on the third.
Robby stares at it, and he'll do that a few times; he'll even try pushing against it (not throw--he doesn't want to wake Mister LaRusso up), but nothing will convince it to open. He's locked in here, with nothing but a sleeping man and a desk with his rubbish on it, some clothes that will get shoved into the one drawer in the room.
And he doesn't exactly have a lot of urge to sleep. The door worries him, but anything he can do about it will have to wait for the man in the room with him to be awake, would make too much noise otherwise; so he has nothing to do but to settle, somewhere. Somehow. A few times at the desk and chair, other times on the floor by the bed, when the seat becomes uncomfortable under him. He tries sleeping on that floor, a hand tucked under his head for a pillow. Maybe it works. But he still comes to either way, the photograph left on the ground where idleness left it after re-examination after re-examination.
It's not a fun time. When in this City has there ever been a fun time? It's just a game of waiting, and now so is this, with Robby's back to the bed, sighing with his arms hanging off from his knees, hands joined as he's left with nothing else but his thoughts.
[ Thankfully it's not like Daniel sank into a sleep that's long enough to be practically like what one might sleep for at night - instead it's more like a nap, since the man does actually start stirring again after a while.
Granted, said 'while' is probably still an hour or two.. Sorry for letting you sit there like that with absolutely nothing to do the entire time, Robby..
Not that he realises it at first. No, when Daniel slowly and groggily opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling, he thinks he's just in his own apartment. All of them look similar enough for him to not immediately realise it - not to mention that Daniel is a little bit distracted by the fact that his head is currently absolutely pounding, like there's a construction worker trapped inside of his head, jackhammering the place up.
It makes everything come back to him only in bits and pieces. He realises where the headache comes from when he thinks back on the bottle of sake. Hell, the decision to drink that is the one thing that is still clear in his mind, before his brain just runs into what feels like a wall blocking everything that happened afterwards. He was drinking, and-- and sitting at that grave that had mister Miyagi's name on it before, and..
.. what then? Daniel tries to think really hard, tries to break through the wall, and of course there's one thing that comes to his mind first.
Robby.
He doesn't even try to recall the rest of his memories properly. So there's no shame yet for his state, no fully remembering everything he technically forced the poor boy to do while caring for his drunken ass.. Instead he remembers Robby, the thought of the boy hitting him like a truck. Even though his body feels like it hurts all over, sore and aching, Daniel shoots up into a sitting position on the bed, suddenly on full alert. His head immediately turns, looking as if he's searching for something, though it doesn't take long for his gaze to fall on the boy next to the bed, the back of a head of familiar hair that Daniel finds himself staring at.
Daniel opens his mouth, a painful sound involuntarily coming out first, but then he manages, in a broken voice that sounds so raw and still not healed that it doesn't even sound like Daniel's own: ]
R-- Robby..
[ He's here. Robby is here.
It wasn't just something he made up in the middle of the haze. ]
[ Godddd at least the phones have solitaire on it.
Which is what Robby's been getting well-acquainted with. A couple of games he opened up and refused to become invested in, and then conceded. It's better than the Pong game; that one requires a patience where you're not itchy about being stuck in a room (and he's not that far gone yet), and Robby can make his way through cards where there's no timer or rush to it. Throw in some thoughts about his current state of affairs, look at the door locking him in here like it's the enemy.
And then the bed sighs; a sound he doesn't immediately understand, until the croaking of his name behind him spins him around, the phone discarded on the ground. ]
Mister LaRusso! Hey, yeah-- [ Nothing about that sleep has changed anything about Mister LaRusso's appearance, that's for sure. He looks around, considering his next move, an arm slung up on the side of the bed. ] You want a drink? The door jammed, but...
[ But I can try it now, is what he would say, another time. But he leaves the question there in the air, his gaze now looking at Mister LaRusso for some other question, for something else. It's been how long since they've both been here? And it's been how long since they've spoken to each other, been alone with one another in a room?
And how long has it been since that anger in him died for people he used to trust--and has anything changed for those people? Those people, that person--the one looking back at him right now, who would have every reason to feel differently about him after trying to reach out to him, again and again--
and whose teachings and dojo he sold off, chewed up, and spat out?
He looks for any certainty, for any reason--the absence of anger, of hurt or disgust--for his lips to roll together, and to smile into his cheek. ]
...Hey.
[ But, you know what, he can handle hurt. He can handle disgust, too. ]
[ 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.
[ The expression on Robby's face doesn't keep. Whatever look it was making, somewhere between resigned--but hopeful?--acceptance, the kind where he knows he's done a lot, that he of all people shouldn't be here in the room with the older man, that he might not deserve to be anything other than remorseful. Well, it drops; when he sees the blur that brings colour to Mister LaRusso's eyes, as he tries to speak against the hoarse state of his throat.
Robby doesn't intend to interject. He doesn't want to interrupt Mister LaRusso if he wants to try and talk, but when he hears what sounds like a sorry-- ]
No, no, Mister LaRusso-- don't speak. [ He lifts himself up from off the floor easily, pushing himself up by the arm on the bed so he can take a seat on its edge. His hand hovering afterwards, uncertain of where to go (should he touch Mister LaRusso?) before he sets it on his lap. ]
Whatever's going on, you don't have to explain it right now. And-- [ He pauses, swallows, nearly chuckles into the sigh he takes as he slowly shakes his head. ] --I'm the last person you need to apologise to. I...
[ His voice dips, his head too, but he lifts it again. A painful hold in his gaze, but one he keeps all the same. ]
I helped Cobra Kai take everything from you, and I didn't think twice about it.
[ It's an ugly confession, a shame in what's already too late to take back. Regret coming when it's already too late: when in the end, the win Robby was hoping for was never possible.
A win he never really saw, but hoped would manifest.
And then it didn't. ]
It wasn't worth it, [ he speaks softly. His hands have come together on his lap, a fingernail idly picking at the back of a knuckle. ] I thought I could be a better person, someone stronger than I was--but I just screwed things up for a lot of people. Even people in Cobra Kai.
[ It seems that holding gazes isn't particularly easy for either of them right now - and yet it happens. Just as Robby tries his best to hold Daniel's gaze, so does the man continue to look back at him as he listens to the boy speak, the words spilling out. There's still something painful in Daniel's gaze as he listens, but there's a little more too, the emotion too complicated to even put into a single word. (But it's not all bad, at least.)
The only thing that's a little more straightforward is the man's reaction to the apology Robby himself puts forward at the end there. Daniel shakes his head. Initially slowly, but then a little more firm before it stops.
Sure, maybe not everything Robby did was great. Hurting kids, teaching Miyagi-do to Cobra Kai of all dojos-- but it's not like everything Daniel did was great either, and the entire time he heard about the things Robby was doing, it felt like Daniel's own fault, the consequences for having hurt the boy enough to push him away. The reason Robby didn't think twice, as the boy himself words it.
So Robby not listening-- that's not his fault. If anything, Daniel can't help but think of the time he joined Cobra Kai so long ago, how he too didn't listen to mister Miyagi, only tried to push the man and his concern away as far as he could, doing things he usually never would have done before, bad things.
Daniel never understood why mister Miyagi seemed to forgive him so easily afterwards.
Maybe now he does.
A hand reaches out, possibly intending on landing on Robby's shoulder. And it does, but-- it does a little bit more than that. Not just resting there, but with both of them sitting on the bed, it's easy for Daniel to scoot over a little so he's more directly next to Robby and then use the leverage of that hand already in position to gently pull Robby a little closer, moving the boy into a sideways hug. There's so much he wants to say and explain, and there's so much he wants to hear from Robby too, especially when the other speaks about screwing up things for people in Cobra Kai, but there's not much of it he can say without his phone.
He just hopes he can convey some of it this way. Even if it's not really like he's hugged Robby before, it's not like Daniel has never thought of it, making a gesture like this feel much less awkward than it perhaps ought to be.
And it's the easiest way to say it's fine. To say I was never mad at you. I was only mad at myself for hurting you. I was mad at Kreese and Silver for manipulating you, using your pain and anger. I'm so glad you're okay. I'm worried about you being here in a place like this. ]
You.. are strong.
[ Daniel's voice is still incredibly scratchy, but since he can at least speak at a much lower volume now he's got Robby this close, he can still force it out.
Sorry, Robby - even if you ask him to not speak and spare his voice, this old man apparently just has trouble with doing that around you. Especially when Daniel disagrees with that point so hard that he has to say it, ahead of everything else, ahead of all the things he needs much more of a voice to actually be able to properly convey.
And there's one more thing too, right? Something that he's been thinking about ever since the end of that summer when everything fell apart, haunting his mind. Something that seeing Robby again in this empty city without anyone he knew only strengthens. ]
[ There's so much more that Robby would say, as long as Mister LaRusso was willing to listen. As if words alone could be enough to convey his remorse, his regret--and then his acceptance, if Mister LaRusso was mad at him, disappointed, then he had every right. And while the apology given speaks otherwise about Mister LaRusso's feelings, it's not like feelings can't be complicated, right? What does he have to apologise in the first place, after all? When he did try to help him, when he kept trying to reach out.
How can you help someone who won't listen? Who'd rather burn everything to the ground, and call it strength.
Feelings are complicated. They're what's too strong, when a hand on Robby turns into a tug, and Robby doesn't think to resist--though he doesn't know what's happening, either--to find himself leaning in. Leaning into what becomes an arm around his shoulders, and his chest tightens; he blinks at the sight of a wall and bed, the outline of Mister LaRusso's body just within the edges of his vision, and they would have been enough to unsettle him. But those words spoken, low and rasped--
No, no. He's not strong. He's not strong at all.
He doesn't feel strong, not the way his body reacts to hear that correct. One of his hands trembles with an indecision, raising slightly, fingers flexing with the idea of moving and doing more, while his throat constricts, and his heart feels raw where it beats. He's been a coward for too long; he's been burning bridges in his hurt. And he doesn't feel very strong, when a couple of words muttered can make him crumble from what they show, more than what they mean.
(Or maybe they do mean what Robby takes from them, when paired with the touch granted: that It's okay, I'm here for you. You haven't lost me. I was always here.)
There's something here that he thought was lost. A man who took a boy into his home, a man who took that boy out into the woods; working together to rebuild a home into a dojo, laying paint on fencing and walls, drinking with legs dangling off from where they sat. It's been lost, the boy hadn't wanted it, and then it was gone--it felt like a piece of the past, too far gone to be found again.
Missed you, says the man, and the boy wishes he never left in the first place.
But he can do better than just wish, and he gives up his reservations, lifts his indecisive hand and wraps it around the other side of Mister LaRusso's neck and presses himself a little more into his embrace, sucks in and exhales a deep breath. ]
I missed you too, Mister LaRusso. I didn't think-- I didn't know if there'd ever be a good time to see you. To apologise.
[ With everything he did--with a family he hurt. Him. Sam, maybe Anthony too. He let him down as well. ]
[ Truth to be told, this entire experience is surprising to Daniel. Robby actually being here in the city, and Daniel having had no idea all along. Robby actually being glad to see him. And then, on top of it all, Robby actually accepting the hug from him - no, not just accepting it, but moving into it, recipocating it.
It almost doesn't feel deserved. On Daniel's side it is also very reminiscent of another summer, of a time that's already a year ago now. Of seeing Robby around the dojo, often smiling, with so much energy and faith and with those bright, hopeful eyes looking at him. After the fact he thought a lot about the many things he should have done back then that he didn't. Like hugging Robby like this, for one.
But Daniel smashed the chance for that with his own hands. And yet here Robby is, leaning into the hug, the way Sam (and even Anthony) have when looking for comfort with him. It does feel a little undeserved, but.. maybe Daniel is more of a selfish guy than he'd like to be, and he finds himself wanting it, a heart skipping a beat with joy and relief to know that he can somehow, despite everything, provide this for Robby. A place to find comfort and joy, a place to find strength, because Daniel hasn't felt so strong lately at all - and not even right now either, with his pounding head and nauseous stomach - but he knows he will be, for Robby.
Even with all the thoughts running through his mind, his entire thought cycle focused on the hug, he still hears the words from Robby. It's strange, thinking that Robby thought just as hard about apologizing to him as Daniel thought about apologizing to Robby - but he does know the other is right. Who knows if there would have been a good time? Even if Daniel knows he would have dropped everything the moment he'd see the boy, there's no denying that he was sliding further and further down into a spiral that probably no one could stop.
Funny - not funny at all, actually - that it'd take them being kidnapped to some eerie otherworldly city for there to be a "good time" to see each other.
Daniel's hand moves down a little. Still keeping Robby close, but it moves down from the boy's shoulder to his upper arm, just so Daniel can rub his hand up and down a little there - a soft, reassuring gesture.
It doesn't feel like enough though. There's so much Daniel wants to say, but he knows there's no way his throat is going to cooperate enough with him to be able to say it all here. His own phone is gone, and-- Robby has a phone with him, maybe? But that involves looking for it, and that in turn involves letting go of the boy, and Daniel doesn't want to do that just yet.
It means he just has to express what he wants to say with physical actions, just like he did a moment ago. With how entangled they already are now, and with Robby leaning into the hug, it's very easy for Daniel to just twist his upper body a little so it's fully facing Robby, moving his second arm to join the other against Robby's back, now pulling the boy into a full, proper hug.
(Sorry, Robby, this very likely means that you can truly feel up close just how prickly mister LaRusso's nine o' clock shadow is. There's probably still some alcohol on his breath too..)
One of his arms remains wrapped around Robby's back, the other rubs reassuring circles against the boy's upper back, near his neck. Without words, it's a simple message - just it's okay, it's okay, it's okay.
It's all slow, like Daniel is taking his time with it. It's the one resource they've had way too much of in this place, after all, so he might as well use it to show Robby he doesn't have anywhere to go right now but to be here with Robby.
He knows, after all. What he wanted from Robby was never an apology, the thought didn't even cross Daniel's mind when he always knew he was the one who had to apologize.
All he instead wanted was for them to be at each other's sides again, just like this. ]
[ Robby wasn't quite expecting a full-blown hug. His side of the embrace had felt loose in its gesture, something kinder or more intimate than he's ever given the other man, but if Mister LaRusso's going to do it first...
He didn't mind giving it, didn't think too deeply about it before, but as the man pulls his arms better around him, and seems to be hugging him closer?
He does wonder if Mister LaRusso's still a little drunk. Maybe more than just a little, but the thought crosses Robby regardless. Should he feel bad? Embarrassed? His heart can't decide--he could go for both--but embarrassment does fit better, with the hand that's rubbing his back like his mom might've done when he was a kid. Fortunately for a drunk, not entirely coherent (and voiceless) Mister LaRusso, he can get away with a lot of things. Really, would Robby stop him?
Even gestures that Robby knows he doesn't deserve. But the real trouble is if Mister LaRusso will regret it once he gets more sleep, or whatever he needs. A shower, water. A shave, by the itching of the forming beard that's tickled at Robby's face.
But Robby isn't going to be the one to tell him what to do, or how to feel. His cheeks might feel a tad warm (is that because of their body heat? Or just the heat of Mister LaRusso's breath close to his skin?), but his heart feels soft, too--because he never imagined anything like this. Even if he got to see Mister LaRusso, where or whenever that was, it wouldn't involve them sitting on his bed (okay, very unlikely) or with the man's arms around him.
...still, Robby slips his other not used hand somewhere on the man's own back, to return the gesture. Unsure, hesitant for a good while; but if it's a hug that Mister LaRusso wants, Robby can give in, and bring his own arms a little tighter around the man to finally reciprocate it properly.
(It's okay, he won't tell anyone about this. He'll keep this to himself. Especially the funny, goofy feeling this is inspiring in him that he really can't explain. Something close to embarrassed, and yet--)
He doesn't rush them. He doesn't want to be the one who decides to pull back, and for the decision he makes that this is for Mister LaRusso, Robby still receives some enjoyment from it. The arms around him, that Mister LaRusso wants to be this close to him; the acceptance in the gesture, and having someone who at all. Someone he knows from back in the Valley, even with as much as he likes Mob, this is different. Knows it would be different the other way around.
There's the outdoor of a dojo he wishes he could see right now, when he closes his eyes; a time and place that's so far away, a reunion that hadn't ever needed to be. Tatami mats and sliding doors.
Mister LaRusso looks like a mess. He shouldn't be like this. ]
...you feeling okay? You need medicine or anything? [ They're not words meant to interrupt this moment, but just something to make sure; a concern that makes Robby rub his hand on Mister LaRusso's own back a little, copying his sentiment. ] I can make some toast if you wanna stay in bed. You eat toast for hangovers?
[ This might be too much to be asking a man who can't speak very well, but he's asking it slowly, thoughtfully. He can't help himself. It's a habit. ]
[ Robby's voice suddenly echoing in his ears feels like something that snaps Daniel out of it a little. Not enough to regret the hug, since he meant every moment of it - and since it actually.. felt nice, better than anything he's experienced so far in this city, even if that's a very low bar to clear - but enough to worry just a touch if he's embarrassing Robby by doing this.
It makes him slowly pull out of the hug, still sitting on the bed, but at least now able to look at Robby. He needed to be able to do so anyway to be able to even try to communicate with the boy, try to form an answer to what Robby is asking him.
Especially when it's a good question. Daniel frowns a little, knowing that he should probably have some of his painkillers for this hangover - but then again, those are in his apartment, and with each passing moment Daniel realises more and more this must be Robby's apartment instead - and maybe drink some water. Robby's presence - the surprise of it, the joy of it - makes it easy to forget his hangover for a moment, but it doesn't mean it isn't still very present.
He's already nodding when the boy asks about the medicine, but Daniel figures he should probably articulate things a bit better here. Remembering his thought about Robby's phone, Daniel leans forward just a little to see if the phone remains where Robby was sitting a moment ago.
And it is there. Daniel plucks it off the floor, some relief in his expression when he realises he can now actually speak with Robby, even if it's still not as ideal as using his own voice.
.. It's not the only thing Daniel finds though.
There's something else on the floor. It's further away, and Daniel can only get a peek at it, but something about it seems.. oddly familiar.
Enough so that the man gets all the way off the bed - slowly, not wanting to tumble over like an idiot with his hangover - to walk over to the item, picking it up. Something about the frame seemed familiar, but the reality of what it is doesn't hit Daniel until he turns it over, seeing two very familiar faces smiling back at him from the photo in the frame.
The man glances between the frame and the boy sitting on the bed. He walks back to sit back down next to Robby again, momentarily placing the framed photo on his lap so he can use his hands to write text on the phone, making the device read it out loud with a robotic voice, the way he had tried to do when Robby found him earlier. ]
Where did you find this, Robby?
[ The robotic tone carries absolutely no emotion, just dutifully reading the letters and words out loud.
But Daniel has some emotion. No offense, or anger, or anything like that, though. Instead he mostly seems surprised, with something more emotional at the edges of it. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
strongroots) wrote2023-07-11 06:52 pm
action;
Daniel is missing out on it entirely. He has no idea about what's going on today in a different part of the city - a man with absolutely no clue that there was an item waiting for him there. A framed photo that had been stored away back home, a picture of a man and a boy proudly smiling together next to the Miyagi-do sign, taken back when they restored mister Miyagi's house together. A photo wrapped in paper for storage, Robby's name written on it, just as a reminder to Daniel himself as to what it was. A photo he kept finding back home, kept thinking about - a desire to put it back up when the boy would return to the dojo turned into the idea of instead gifting it to Robby, the more Daniel realised that maybe Robby was just never coming back. Especially when, after seemingly having left Cobra Kai, the boy was staying with Johnny now.
(Daniel never blamed Robby, not even when he heard that. He knew what he did. He knew his own guilt. Robby not approaching him again had nothing to do with Robby, and everything to do with the things Daniel did that pushed the boy away in the first place. Of course Robby wouldn't want to see him again. Daniel failed him. Worse than anyone, if Robby was willing to forgive Johnny, but not him.)
Rather than having any idea about that happening, the man can instead be found sitting in the odd cemetary-like part of the park, back where he found the gravestone with mister Miyagi's name on it on his first day in this place.
He didn't know where else to go. Even though Daniel has been trying to keep himself busy with trying to take care of some of the teenagers in this place, he still feels.. lonely. Broken. He keeps jumping at shadows, terrified of seeing one specific face around any possible corner. His voice still hasn't returned, making communication incredibly difficult, and the bruises that still linger on his face and neck sure don't make him give off the best first impression to anyone either. Daniel just doesn't know what to do, and even if seeing mister Miyagi's name on the gravestone might have been a fluke-- it's the only thing he has to go on here. It's the only place he feels he can find some solace in this crazy city that doesn't seem to be letting go of him.
Hence the current display one might come across. Daniel sitting on his knees in front of one of the gravestones, a very much empty bottle of sake on the ground next to him.
He doesn't even seem to hear or notice it if someone approaches. Instead his eyes stare at the gravestone as if in a daze. ]
no subject
It takes Robby a while to find out. He wasn't immediately interested in the new open district, but a lack of anything better to do drew him there, and the gossip of the bank led him that way in particular. Items belonging to people, doors shutting behind them--but where others had been compelled to speak, Robby felt a tugging at his heart from the photo he found, his mouth only opened to gape at it. An image that confused him, for the faces and when it was taken--because the boy with the bobbed cut hair looked so unfamiliar, and the arm around his shoulders puzzled him.
Until it hit him, like none of the ghosts of this city had so far been able to affect him. A memory that belonged to another Robby Keene than him, long gone, unreachable; a time locked by the burnt bridge and closed dojos.
He assumes it must be his item, like others were receiving; until a bump-in with another person reveals differently, offers him another hit he hadn't seen coming. He's here--has been this entire time, but Robby's never seen him. How? Why not? How long? Searching the contacts on the phone helps him find evidence, but his texts go unresponded to, which leaves Robby searching. He could wait. He doesn't want to wait.
He looks everywhere his feet will take him, the phone in his pocket on vibrate and the wrapped photo and its frame in clutched by his stomach to make sure it won't fall as easily out of his hand.
It's a stupid fucking search. The city's empty, but the city's big, even without the added district to give more places to look. Robby doesn't want to think about it initially, asking people along the way if they've seen the man in the photo, then continuing on. But the high of this information starts to dwindle, he thinks there's nothing better he can do than to wait for a response. It's the reasonable option that makes his mind hazy, makes him look at the covered paper with his name written in a hand that isn't his.
His fingers tremble. A part of him wonders if they're all going crazy, imagining people there that aren't, and what he would do anyway? If Mister LaRusso would want to see him, where he should even begin with that conversation.
And Robby doesn't have an answer by the time he sees a figure. A frame of a body hunched by one of the stone gravestones, one that doesn't stand out in one second--the other, freezes Robby in both movement and breath.
(There's a wetness that's been building in the back of his throat, behind his eyes; and it's the idea of having a piece of home that compels Robby maybe more than the man himself. There's reasons for him to stay away, there's a chasm of disappointment he willingly made; but he's selfish, he wants what he doesn't deserve, and he's willing to push down all those complicated emotions, like they don't matter, for a chance to not feel so alone.
So he tells himself. As if seeing Mister LaRusso doesn't scare him, as if what Robby did to him and everyone isn't what freezes him, makes him stop.)
His throat doesn't want to work, despite the lips that twitch; seconds feel like minutes as indecision works to chain Robby in place, or even to pull him away. But despite it all, despite the fog in his head and the drumming of his heartbeat: ]
Mister LaRusso? --Mister LaRusso!
[ He calls out, and starts stumbling forward as he gets his feet to work. ]
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But then he slowly moves, proving to be real. It's not a big movement, but the man's head does turn. It's a very slow turn, like Daniel's attention needs to be torn away from the - nameless - stone he was staring at, rather than the usual quick reaction he'd have to that voice of all voices calling his name. An actual familiar voice in the middle of an unfamiliar city with unfamiliar people.
Even if his reaction isn't quick, however, it is still very much a reaction. With Robby getting closer to him, the boy might be able to see that there is recognition in the man's eyes, even if his gaze looks unfocused in the way drunk people's gazes typically tend to look. The bruises on the side of his face have started to discolour, but those combined with the tracksuit he's wearing, and the fact that it doesn't look like he's exactly kept up with shaving his face-- It's probably not giving off the prettiest of images.
Not that Daniel is thinking about that. It's really hard to think of much of anything right now, when trying to form thoughts in his head feels very much like trying to make his way through a pool of water with the consistency of thick soup.
There's only one thought in his mind because of it. A singular thought that hasn't bloomed in all the complicated thoughts that surround it yet, his mind too slow to react, but a strong thought all the same.
One that the man seems to try and voice, even if no sound leaves his throat. But despite the lack of noise, his lips are very clearly going for the name Robby, the man looking like he's unable to tear his gaze away from the boy approaching him. ]
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Robby doesn't know what to think, nearly slows briefly, but picks up the pace until he's close enough to catch sight of the bottle, and the alarm bells further go off in his head. ]
Mister LaRusso-- [ There's an urgency, a confusion; his mind trying to figure out what's happened, what could make him look this way, but Robby's kneeling all the same, he's putting his hands on his shoulders, he's close enough to smell the alcohol without trying. ] Are you okay? We should get you indoors. It's okay, it's gonna be alright.
[ He could try giving the man a moment to speak, but between the alcohol and the mess of him, Robby's letting his own mouth move, say what it wants, like of course it's something about this place that's gotten to him. Or is it someone? Did someone get to him--
Still, he's not immediately trying to help the man to his feet. There's time for him to say something, if he will. ]
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Not that he isn't making an effort. Even if his eyes seem glassy, it does look like they're trying to focus on Robby as well as they can, considering the man's current state. Even with the way he is right now, Daniel's brain can at least still inform him this is important.
Because it's Robby. Of course Daniel hasn't forgotten who he is, not even while under the influence. It's Robby, and he's right here. Daniel doesn't know why he's here in this city of all places, and if he were more sober he might wonder if it was somehow an illusion like people claimed the name on the gravestone was - or wonder more about just how long Robby has been here already.
As things are right now, though, Daniel's mind is mostly just focusing on the thought of Robby itself, rather than wondering all these things. The hands on his shoulders feel like a surprisingly steadying presence. He listen to the other's rambling words, even if maybe only half of them actually manage to reach Daniel's brain, rather than just his ears.
Robby's here, he just thinks, all words falling on deaf ears when faced with the sheer loudness of that thought in his mind.
Daniel opens his mouth, and though it seems he's making an attempt to speak, there's nothing coming from his mound other than a strange choked sound. It's clear he's trying to tell Robby something though, since the man's eyes don't leave the boy, not even for a moment, not even when his attempt at speaking fails enough that it seems to hurt Daniel's throat, making the man wince slightly. Something Robby can probably feel better underneath his hands more so than actually see.
His gaze only leaves Robby when the man starts patting himself down - and with the way he's currently very much lacking coordination, it takes him a few moments before he's even found the pocket he was keeping the phone in, let alone manage to pull it out. Yet something about the man's movements seems weirdly determined, almost frantic, like this is important to him.
(Robby is here, and Robby-- When Daniel thinks of Robby, there's only one thought that rises above all others, that rises above the haze of alcohol.
He has to apologize to him.)
Despite his own hands shaking, Daniel manages to type out enough on his phone to make the robotic voice speak up. ]
Robby.
[ Nevermind the fact Daniel didn't quite manage proper capitalisation or punctuation there for once in his life - at least the phone picked up on that one all the same.
.. unlike the next one. Because Daniel types more, but it comes out completely garbled, unable to type clearly in his current state. Enjoy listening to the verbal robotic equivalent of a keysmash right after, Robby.
At least Daniel does seem to realise his attempt to tell Robby more failed, making his big brown eyes take on the vibe of a guilty puppy dog. ]
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[ If keys are what Mister LaRusso's looking for. It's where his mind goes, until the phone is pulled out; and he hates the sight of it, similar to his own--the phone they all have, showing that they're stuck here. Robby chews on his bottom lip as he only half-sees what the man is doing.
He hears, instead. When his name comes out, in a voice he isn't expecting; a part of him wants to look around, but Robby knows where it comes from, brows stitching together, puzzled, as he stares at the phone. The noise that follows. ]
Mister LaRusso... [ He starts slowly, the fear of the area around them cooling to the new uncertainty before him. The urge to get Mister LaRusso to his feet, the worry of their own history. ] ...What happened? Did...someone do something to you?
[ His brain is clicking, in a way that doesn't feel right. The noise the man made before he grabbed the phone, using it that way, the state of him right now. He's looking at him, a possibility he doesn't want to believe coming to mind: did someone hurt Mister LaRusso? Here? Do something to his throat?
It should spring back his desire. It will. For now, the mere thought of such a thing--that anyone would come for Mister LaRusso like this-- is-- it's nothing he's considered before. ]
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If the fact that he actually looks Robby in the eyes while he listens doesn't say that enough, then Daniel's reaction probably speaks for itself. The moment he asks Daniel if someone did something to him, the guilt and sadness in the man's eyes seems to increase, and it's as if he's suddenly entirely unable to hold Robby's gaze at all, unfocused or not. Instead Daniel looks down, staring at the ground right in front of him. Something about him looks-- wrong. Broken. There's something similarly raw in it as his reaction back during Valley Fest, but somehow enlargened an endless number of times.
It seems that his brain does realise that he's not going to be able to properly type on his phone while he's like this, so he lowers it, before it just slips out of his hands entirely and lands on the ground between the two of them.
He can't let Robby worry about him. Not when Daniel should be apologizing to him. He can't let him know what happened.
The words repeat in his mind, the alcohol slamming them all together until it feels like a big mess up in there.
He's finally meeting Robby again - and he can't seem to figure out what to do, or if to do anything at all. ]
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The words burn into him, his throat, his being--he wants to find whoever did this and put his hand on their throat in the same instance he knows he needs to stay. Because who would? Why would they? Robby's staring at the dropped phone, and he wants to know, like he could go and do something about it now.
His fingers start to flex against Mister LaRusso's back, but he stops them. He sucks in a breath, he picks up the phone. ]
Come on, [ he says instead; pushing down on his emotions, biting back what he can't swallow, ] --let me take you back. It's gonna be okay.
[ This time, he doesn't ramble, but moves his legs under him ready to stand, nudging the man beside him with his weight to help to bring him up. Hopes he won't be denied, like maybe he deserves to be; but whatever he deserves doesn't matter, really. It's getting Mister LaRusso somewhere safe. It's getting him taken care of that matters.
There's nowhere here safe, but there's better options than with a bottle and a graveyard said to fuck with your head with the names you'll see. (And Robby might think about it later, why Mister LaRusso was here--
then again, it might not even matter next to the rest suffering him.) ]
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But Daniel's mind can't do that now. He just knows he's being nudged, and that Robby seems to want him up, and so Daniel listens. If there's one thought that can still reach his brain, it's the one that tells him he doesn't want Robby to worry about him, after all. And Robby will probably worry him if he stays here, won't he? He seems so worried right now, something about his facial expression that Daniel can't quite place.
(Robby worrying about him feels so foreign though, almost surprising, and his mind tries to piece together why it feels that way - vague memories of a smiling boy, of karate together, of Robby looking so sad sitting out on a chair in a yard, a frown on the boy's face as he utters get lost--
His mind fails, of course.)
At least Daniel's body doesn't seem to fully fail. With some help on Robby's part the man does manage to get back onto his feet. Not the most steady, and he's definitely swaying, but at least he isn't also just tumbling right over and crumbling into a pile on the floor. So it's something. It's workable.
Still, he isn't too sure about walking right now. Not on his own, anyway. And Daniel's instinct - even while drunk! - is to ask Robby if it's okay to lean on him, but..
.. well, it's not like that's really an option when he can't speak, right. His throat is useless, his phone is useless.
And while the default Daniel option would be to just try to walk on his own all the same, there's a few less inhibitions when he's this drunk. So rather than assuming the worst and trying to do it all himself, he instead is the one to wrap his arm around Robby's shoulders - not fully leaning on the boy, thankfully, since that might be a little bit too much weight.. but there's definitely some of his weight being shifted onto Robby as a support to try and walk that way.
Sorry if you're awkwardly stuck to your ex-sensei's side now, Robby. ]
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But they're standing, Robby pressing his free hand to Mister LaRusso's chest (so his current going up doesn't too easily go down). Waits with a quiet 'Okay?' that he knows he won't get a verbal answer for, but hopefully he gets a nod or shake. Regardless, time is given, and then the arm comes over his own shoulders. Robby sucks in air through his nostrils that bring in the smell of alcohol, of something sour. Or maybe it's a taste already in the back of his throat where those words had been, the worry for the state of the man he's helping to keep standing. ]
This way. [ Every time he speaks feels wrong, awkward, stilted. But every time is a necessity (even knowing who did this to Mister LaRusso--that still is, but it can wait), because as he guides the man to follow his lead, to turn in the right direction and continue to walk the path Robby had been taking, he won't speak. Not the things that might need to be spoken; the conversations and apologies owed, felt, important to their lives before this city, with the Californian sun. He could chew on the topics without processing any part of them, without considering how to start, the middle or end; and Robby thinks he's chewing on plenty as he walks, stopping if he feels Mister LaRusso pull away from him, a 'hey, this way' to bring them back in a drunken sync.
--But he's not going to speak about it out here. Even if the walk takes about ten, fifteen minutes to finally reach the apartments, buildings that look the same. He says, 'We're on the first floor' before they pass through the front doors, and 'This way' for the direction they turn; following the line of repeating front entrances before they come across one.
Robby needs to fumble for the key, trying to paw at the pocket with his opposite hand (that grabbed the hand resting over his shoulder during their walk), but failing.
'Sorry, I just need to-- get the key.' He lowers the arm around Mister LaRusso's back, hopes that with them standing already close to the wall that the man will be fine, and finally gets the thing from his jacket, exhales as he jams it into the lock and gets it open. He feels lightheaded, drunk himself, but he keeps himself together as he finishes the last part. Through the open kitchen-and-living room space, over to another door he doesn't need to fuss with to open. A standard apartment space, nothing out of the ordinary. There's clothes on the end of a bed, a plastic bag on a dresser and a sock on the floor.
Robby doesn't think about the mess until he's gotten Mister LaRusso to the bed. ] Careful, okay? [ He doesn't hurry this part either, though he's more used to being able to drape the weight down easier to lay. But Mister LaRusso has more than his mother, he doesn't want him to dizzy himself, and so even if Mister LaRusso wants to go down, Robby will try to slow him with his hands coming to rest on his shoulders.
And even if he doesn't start toppling, that's where they will be: cautiously, carefully. Watching with concern. ]
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Even though it takes plenty of time to get to the apartment, even though the state of the apartment is something Daniel would definitely note if his mind was clearer - none of that seems to matter right now. It's already hard enough to keep his brain and body in line enough to keep moving, to keep himself upright the entire way, rather than sprawling out on the sidewalk. There are moments of thoughts about Robby, half-remembered hazy memories from their time back home, but also moments where the man threatens to forget who's even helping him in the first place, until he glances sideways at Robby's face and remembers all over again.
It's mostly just a haze. If you'd ask Daniel what happened between the graveyard and him now sitting on the bed here, he wouldn't be able to tell you - and not just because he's unable to use his voice. For all he knows, he was just.. suddenly here.
Sitting on a bed. In an apartment. (Thankfully not having collapsed on top of it, though that last drop to the bed was definitely faster than it'd be for most people who would just sit down normally.)
With Robby in front of him.
Daniel stares at the boy with that same unfocused look in his eyes, but there's something more to it. Something more complicated. Not angry, for sure, but maybe not happy either-- if it comes close to any emotion in particular, it mostly just seems sad.
(But then again, that's been an emotion that's always easily reflected in Daniel's eyes.)
He thinks about the situation, remembers bed, and a single thought rises to the man's mind of having to take off his shoes. Right, for bed-- he needs to take them off.
A task that's easier said than done, and Daniel probably looks absolutely ridiculous for a moment as he tries to kick off his shoes, not realising he should probably undo the laces first. It threatens to make him look miserable, but then he leans forward to try and undo said laces - probably needing some support from Robby there to keep him from fully toppling over. It's a sloppy attempt, but he does finally manage to get his shoes off after a few more moments, and then he moves backwards to just let himself fully drop on the bed from his seated position this time.
It's like the world is spinning - his head pounding for some reason.
(Mister Miyagi, Robby, Terry Silver, the city--
What is real? What fake?)
He feels so dizzy, but he's not closing his eyes just yet. Instead the man turns his head, seeming to try and look at Robby, even from his current position. ]
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He casts his own away, sideways, lips parting to a tongue that licks across them. He shuffles a step back, and the words he'd like to say don't come.
And before they might think to, the man is falling forward. ]
Mister LaRusso--...
[ So Robby starts, but the name falters as he sees it's not falling--it's Mister LaRusso going for his shoes, the things he saw him trying to struggle a second with. He hurries a ] Wait, [ as his hands this time reach for his elbows, an elbow, in a pausing gesture while he kneels. Mister LaRusso can't argue, can he? He can't move as easily as he can, Robby untying the laces and pulling off the footwear, or at least getting the knots undone so they can be peeled off easier.
He won't even look up. Mister LaRusso doesn't need him to look up(, and looking down is so more comfortable. It's where his shame sits). ]
Just rest. [ He gets back onto his feet, seeing Mister LaRusso's form without settling onto it; lips that pinch together, a throat that swallows, a brain that wonders what Mister LaRusso would be saying if he could speak. If he was thinking clearly.
He should get him water, but water depends on a person being conscious enough to receive it. Mister LaRusso's slipping (falling) onto the bed, and he has to look to see his state. See how conscious he is, if his eyes are closed or opened, if maybe he should speak now, ask him if he wants anything.
But he meets his gaze again, and it's a look he doesn't want to read into. His own drops once more. His fingers flex at his sides. ]
...I'm real. [ He thinks. He's as real as Mister LaRusso is right now, he's sure, but what amount of real a person can and can't be--Robby doesn't know. He isn't sure in this place.
He just knows that he might not be the person Mister LaRusso wants to see, and wonders if he should admit as much; start the conversation that needs to be had between them. But like every other instance he's had, every other opportunity: ]
...Just rest. [ He wraps his fingers into fists, loose and weak. ] Nothing's gonna happen, so- it's alright.
[ He's never told such an obvious lie. ]
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Even if it isn't clear how much he's processing them. But some part of Daniel must be, because his gaze shifts. Because his mouth moves, even if no sound comes out, like there's something he wants to tell Robby but can't. Even lip reading would be an impossible challenge with Daniel's current state, where he'd probably slur all the words together even if he had a voice.
Still, it's like he's trying to say something. Something he's desperately trying to convey to the boy, actively fighting the urge to sleep to try and say it instead, even in the face of an obvious failure to speak aloud.
Maybe that's why Daniel instead moves. His body is too heavy to fully move, but.. he shifts just a little on the bed, and a moment later it's mainly his arm that's making the bigger movement. It's no quick movement, nothing that would make someone jump, but even the slow movement is enough to bring Daniel's hand closer and closer to Robby's, until his fingers - clumsily - latch onto Robby's wrist.
It's not a tight hold, but Daniel seems to also be trying to do his best to not let it slip - either because Daniel himself can't keep his arm up, or because Robby might try to twist his way out of it.
He continues to hold the boy's wrist, something in the man's gaze pleading.
There's no words, but the implication might be obvious all the same. It's practically written in Daniel's eyes as he continues to look at the other, if Robby bothers to - or can at all - look at Daniel.
Stay here.
Please. ]
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It's a rational fear in this city. Isn't it? It has to be.
But Mister LaRusso shifts, he attempts to speak, and the effort to move--the possibility that he might try to get up--makes Robby look at him than at the view of his sneakers. Watching the clumsy attempt at speaking, his own throat feeling as if it's closing up itself to witness. A brain that fails to figure out what it is the man wants to say, but then he's leaning, shifting, reaching.
--The phone? A momentary thought, one that comes with his hand (luckily) circling around his front to feel for his pockets, figuring out which side it was on. It means, briefly, his hand is close--it means it doesn't get to touch his jacket, when instead Mister LaRusso grabs it. A touch of skin that's startling despite the strength that isn't there.
He stares down at it, a confusion in his features that he looks back over at Mister LaRusso with. But he sees there, the request looking right back at him, and Robby stands speechless; maybe bracing, for some change in the expression that throws accusation at him instead.
It doesn't come. He closes his parted lips, just for a second. ]
I'll stay. [ He's not sure where he'll stay, but a look over and, oh, right. He reaches out with his free hand, but doesn't tug himself away from Mister LaRusso's grip, towards the chair by the small desk stuffed in the corner. ] See? I'll be there. Then as soon as you wake up, we have panadol if you need it. We can talk.
[ Well, one of them will do the talking--but he's not correcting himself on that. ]
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It's an ask that usually wouldn't have come. Not if Daniel was sober. After everything, he wouldn't have dared to ask Robby to stick around for him. Because Daniel doesn't feel like he deserves it, sure, but also because the idea of facing yet another Robby rejection makes asking for it in the first place much too daunting.
But right now he can't think about that. He can only think about the feeling strongest and frontmost in his heart - the desire to have Robby stay here, so they can talk later, because Daniel has so much to say to the boy.
Because he doesn't want to lose him. Not the first familiar thing this city has truly given him, when it's all felt like some sort of purgatory Terry Silver kicked him straight into.
Maybe he can make one good thing out of it if he can at least apologize to Robby.
He doesn't let go of the wrist, but Daniel's eyes are clearly starting to struggle with the whole 'being awake' business. His eyelids start to fall multiple times, quickly opening again when Daniel realises he's falling asleep and wants to still look at Robby despite the boy's request for him to rest, but it's a losing battle.
Eventually Daniel's eyes don't open up again when they flutter shut, only the rising and falling of his chest betraying the fact that he is, in fact, thankfully just asleep rather than dead. The hold on Robby's wrist is still there, but it's so loose and slack at this point that it's easy to shrug off without even waking Daniel up. ]
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How easy it can be to sleep. Robby watches it happening to him, tugging on a lop-sided smile, pressing his hand to the back of Mister LaRusso's around his wrist; so he can take it, slip it down so he can cup the older hand in both of his, wait until his first sensei's eyes have closed--and been closed for a while--before he leaves it to rest on the bed.
And then Robby stands there, in case Mister LaRusso might stir again, look up; or if he might disappear, like he still isn't sure won't happen. It doesn't come to pass, and eventually he decides he should get a class of water and the panadol he promised, leave it in a spot where Mister LaRusso can reach it when he wakes up. Make him some dried toast, maybe--he doesn't know if he has bacon, but he could go and get some. Bacon, toast, and scrambled eggs.
But one try of the door does nothing but rattled the handle. The same on the second try, the same on the third.
Robby stares at it, and he'll do that a few times; he'll even try pushing against it (not throw--he doesn't want to wake Mister LaRusso up), but nothing will convince it to open. He's locked in here, with nothing but a sleeping man and a desk with his rubbish on it, some clothes that will get shoved into the one drawer in the room.
And he doesn't exactly have a lot of urge to sleep. The door worries him, but anything he can do about it will have to wait for the man in the room with him to be awake, would make too much noise otherwise; so he has nothing to do but to settle, somewhere. Somehow. A few times at the desk and chair, other times on the floor by the bed, when the seat becomes uncomfortable under him. He tries sleeping on that floor, a hand tucked under his head for a pillow. Maybe it works. But he still comes to either way, the photograph left on the ground where idleness left it after re-examination after re-examination.
It's not a fun time. When in this City has there ever been a fun time? It's just a game of waiting, and now so is this, with Robby's back to the bed, sighing with his arms hanging off from his knees, hands joined as he's left with nothing else but his thoughts.
Cool. Great. ]
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Granted, said 'while' is probably still an hour or two.. Sorry for letting you sit there like that with absolutely nothing to do the entire time, Robby..
Not that he realises it at first. No, when Daniel slowly and groggily opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling, he thinks he's just in his own apartment. All of them look similar enough for him to not immediately realise it - not to mention that Daniel is a little bit distracted by the fact that his head is currently absolutely pounding, like there's a construction worker trapped inside of his head, jackhammering the place up.
It makes everything come back to him only in bits and pieces. He realises where the headache comes from when he thinks back on the bottle of sake. Hell, the decision to drink that is the one thing that is still clear in his mind, before his brain just runs into what feels like a wall blocking everything that happened afterwards. He was drinking, and-- and sitting at that grave that had mister Miyagi's name on it before, and..
.. what then? Daniel tries to think really hard, tries to break through the wall, and of course there's one thing that comes to his mind first.
Robby.
He doesn't even try to recall the rest of his memories properly. So there's no shame yet for his state, no fully remembering everything he technically forced the poor boy to do while caring for his drunken ass.. Instead he remembers Robby, the thought of the boy hitting him like a truck. Even though his body feels like it hurts all over, sore and aching, Daniel shoots up into a sitting position on the bed, suddenly on full alert. His head immediately turns, looking as if he's searching for something, though it doesn't take long for his gaze to fall on the boy next to the bed, the back of a head of familiar hair that Daniel finds himself staring at.
Daniel opens his mouth, a painful sound involuntarily coming out first, but then he manages, in a broken voice that sounds so raw and still not healed that it doesn't even sound like Daniel's own: ]
R-- Robby..
[ He's here. Robby is here.
It wasn't just something he made up in the middle of the haze. ]
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Which is what Robby's been getting well-acquainted with. A couple of games he opened up and refused to become invested in, and then conceded. It's better than the Pong game; that one requires a patience where you're not itchy about being stuck in a room (and he's not that far gone yet), and Robby can make his way through cards where there's no timer or rush to it. Throw in some thoughts about his current state of affairs, look at the door locking him in here like it's the enemy.
And then the bed sighs; a sound he doesn't immediately understand, until the croaking of his name behind him spins him around, the phone discarded on the ground. ]
Mister LaRusso! Hey, yeah-- [ Nothing about that sleep has changed anything about Mister LaRusso's appearance, that's for sure. He looks around, considering his next move, an arm slung up on the side of the bed. ] You want a drink? The door jammed, but...
[ But I can try it now, is what he would say, another time. But he leaves the question there in the air, his gaze now looking at Mister LaRusso for some other question, for something else. It's been how long since they've both been here? And it's been how long since they've spoken to each other, been alone with one another in a room?
And how long has it been since that anger in him died for people he used to trust--and has anything changed for those people? Those people, that person--the one looking back at him right now, who would have every reason to feel differently about him after trying to reach out to him, again and again--
and whose teachings and dojo he sold off, chewed up, and spat out?
He looks for any certainty, for any reason--the absence of anger, of hurt or disgust--for his lips to roll together, and to smile into his cheek. ]
...Hey.
[ But, you know what, he can handle hurt. He can handle disgust, too. ]
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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.) ]
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Robby doesn't intend to interject. He doesn't want to interrupt Mister LaRusso if he wants to try and talk, but when he hears what sounds like a sorry-- ]
No, no, Mister LaRusso-- don't speak. [ He lifts himself up from off the floor easily, pushing himself up by the arm on the bed so he can take a seat on its edge. His hand hovering afterwards, uncertain of where to go (should he touch Mister LaRusso?) before he sets it on his lap. ]
Whatever's going on, you don't have to explain it right now. And-- [ He pauses, swallows, nearly chuckles into the sigh he takes as he slowly shakes his head. ] --I'm the last person you need to apologise to. I...
[ His voice dips, his head too, but he lifts it again. A painful hold in his gaze, but one he keeps all the same. ]
I helped Cobra Kai take everything from you, and I didn't think twice about it.
[ It's an ugly confession, a shame in what's already too late to take back. Regret coming when it's already too late: when in the end, the win Robby was hoping for was never possible.
A win he never really saw, but hoped would manifest.
And then it didn't. ]
It wasn't worth it, [ he speaks softly. His hands have come together on his lap, a fingernail idly picking at the back of a knuckle. ] I thought I could be a better person, someone stronger than I was--but I just screwed things up for a lot of people. Even people in Cobra Kai.
[ He helped to make Cobra Kai legitimate. ]
I'm sorry I didn't listen.
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The only thing that's a little more straightforward is the man's reaction to the apology Robby himself puts forward at the end there. Daniel shakes his head. Initially slowly, but then a little more firm before it stops.
Sure, maybe not everything Robby did was great. Hurting kids, teaching Miyagi-do to Cobra Kai of all dojos-- but it's not like everything Daniel did was great either, and the entire time he heard about the things Robby was doing, it felt like Daniel's own fault, the consequences for having hurt the boy enough to push him away. The reason Robby didn't think twice, as the boy himself words it.
So Robby not listening-- that's not his fault. If anything, Daniel can't help but think of the time he joined Cobra Kai so long ago, how he too didn't listen to mister Miyagi, only tried to push the man and his concern away as far as he could, doing things he usually never would have done before, bad things.
Daniel never understood why mister Miyagi seemed to forgive him so easily afterwards.
Maybe now he does.
A hand reaches out, possibly intending on landing on Robby's shoulder. And it does, but-- it does a little bit more than that. Not just resting there, but with both of them sitting on the bed, it's easy for Daniel to scoot over a little so he's more directly next to Robby and then use the leverage of that hand already in position to gently pull Robby a little closer, moving the boy into a sideways hug. There's so much he wants to say and explain, and there's so much he wants to hear from Robby too, especially when the other speaks about screwing up things for people in Cobra Kai, but there's not much of it he can say without his phone.
He just hopes he can convey some of it this way. Even if it's not really like he's hugged Robby before, it's not like Daniel has never thought of it, making a gesture like this feel much less awkward than it perhaps ought to be.
And it's the easiest way to say it's fine. To say I was never mad at you. I was only mad at myself for hurting you. I was mad at Kreese and Silver for manipulating you, using your pain and anger. I'm so glad you're okay. I'm worried about you being here in a place like this. ]
You.. are strong.
[ Daniel's voice is still incredibly scratchy, but since he can at least speak at a much lower volume now he's got Robby this close, he can still force it out.
Sorry, Robby - even if you ask him to not speak and spare his voice, this old man apparently just has trouble with doing that around you. Especially when Daniel disagrees with that point so hard that he has to say it, ahead of everything else, ahead of all the things he needs much more of a voice to actually be able to properly convey.
And there's one more thing too, right? Something that he's been thinking about ever since the end of that summer when everything fell apart, haunting his mind. Something that seeing Robby again in this empty city without anyone he knew only strengthens. ]
.. missed you.
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How can you help someone who won't listen? Who'd rather burn everything to the ground, and call it strength.
Feelings are complicated. They're what's too strong, when a hand on Robby turns into a tug, and Robby doesn't think to resist--though he doesn't know what's happening, either--to find himself leaning in. Leaning into what becomes an arm around his shoulders, and his chest tightens; he blinks at the sight of a wall and bed, the outline of Mister LaRusso's body just within the edges of his vision, and they would have been enough to unsettle him. But those words spoken, low and rasped--
No, no. He's not strong. He's not strong at all.
He doesn't feel strong, not the way his body reacts to hear that correct. One of his hands trembles with an indecision, raising slightly, fingers flexing with the idea of moving and doing more, while his throat constricts, and his heart feels raw where it beats. He's been a coward for too long; he's been burning bridges in his hurt. And he doesn't feel very strong, when a couple of words muttered can make him crumble from what they show, more than what they mean.
(Or maybe they do mean what Robby takes from them, when paired with the touch granted: that It's okay, I'm here for you. You haven't lost me. I was always here.)
There's something here that he thought was lost. A man who took a boy into his home, a man who took that boy out into the woods; working together to rebuild a home into a dojo, laying paint on fencing and walls, drinking with legs dangling off from where they sat. It's been lost, the boy hadn't wanted it, and then it was gone--it felt like a piece of the past, too far gone to be found again.
Missed you, says the man, and the boy wishes he never left in the first place.
But he can do better than just wish, and he gives up his reservations, lifts his indecisive hand and wraps it around the other side of Mister LaRusso's neck and presses himself a little more into his embrace, sucks in and exhales a deep breath. ]
I missed you too, Mister LaRusso. I didn't think-- I didn't know if there'd ever be a good time to see you. To apologise.
[ With everything he did--with a family he hurt. Him. Sam, maybe Anthony too. He let him down as well. ]
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It almost doesn't feel deserved. On Daniel's side it is also very reminiscent of another summer, of a time that's already a year ago now. Of seeing Robby around the dojo, often smiling, with so much energy and faith and with those bright, hopeful eyes looking at him. After the fact he thought a lot about the many things he should have done back then that he didn't. Like hugging Robby like this, for one.
But Daniel smashed the chance for that with his own hands. And yet here Robby is, leaning into the hug, the way Sam (and even Anthony) have when looking for comfort with him. It does feel a little undeserved, but.. maybe Daniel is more of a selfish guy than he'd like to be, and he finds himself wanting it, a heart skipping a beat with joy and relief to know that he can somehow, despite everything, provide this for Robby. A place to find comfort and joy, a place to find strength, because Daniel hasn't felt so strong lately at all - and not even right now either, with his pounding head and nauseous stomach - but he knows he will be, for Robby.
Even with all the thoughts running through his mind, his entire thought cycle focused on the hug, he still hears the words from Robby. It's strange, thinking that Robby thought just as hard about apologizing to him as Daniel thought about apologizing to Robby - but he does know the other is right. Who knows if there would have been a good time? Even if Daniel knows he would have dropped everything the moment he'd see the boy, there's no denying that he was sliding further and further down into a spiral that probably no one could stop.
Funny - not funny at all, actually - that it'd take them being kidnapped to some eerie otherworldly city for there to be a "good time" to see each other.
Daniel's hand moves down a little. Still keeping Robby close, but it moves down from the boy's shoulder to his upper arm, just so Daniel can rub his hand up and down a little there - a soft, reassuring gesture.
It doesn't feel like enough though. There's so much Daniel wants to say, but he knows there's no way his throat is going to cooperate enough with him to be able to say it all here. His own phone is gone, and-- Robby has a phone with him, maybe? But that involves looking for it, and that in turn involves letting go of the boy, and Daniel doesn't want to do that just yet.
It means he just has to express what he wants to say with physical actions, just like he did a moment ago. With how entangled they already are now, and with Robby leaning into the hug, it's very easy for Daniel to just twist his upper body a little so it's fully facing Robby, moving his second arm to join the other against Robby's back, now pulling the boy into a full, proper hug.
(Sorry, Robby, this very likely means that you can truly feel up close just how prickly mister LaRusso's nine o' clock shadow is. There's probably still some alcohol on his breath too..)
One of his arms remains wrapped around Robby's back, the other rubs reassuring circles against the boy's upper back, near his neck. Without words, it's a simple message - just it's okay, it's okay, it's okay.
It's all slow, like Daniel is taking his time with it. It's the one resource they've had way too much of in this place, after all, so he might as well use it to show Robby he doesn't have anywhere to go right now but to be here with Robby.
He knows, after all. What he wanted from Robby was never an apology, the thought didn't even cross Daniel's mind when he always knew he was the one who had to apologize.
All he instead wanted was for them to be at each other's sides again, just like this. ]
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He didn't mind giving it, didn't think too deeply about it before, but as the man pulls his arms better around him, and seems to be hugging him closer?
He does wonder if Mister LaRusso's still a little drunk. Maybe more than just a little, but the thought crosses Robby regardless. Should he feel bad? Embarrassed? His heart can't decide--he could go for both--but embarrassment does fit better, with the hand that's rubbing his back like his mom might've done when he was a kid. Fortunately for a drunk, not entirely coherent (and voiceless) Mister LaRusso, he can get away with a lot of things. Really, would Robby stop him?
Even gestures that Robby knows he doesn't deserve. But the real trouble is if Mister LaRusso will regret it once he gets more sleep, or whatever he needs. A shower, water. A shave, by the itching of the forming beard that's tickled at Robby's face.
But Robby isn't going to be the one to tell him what to do, or how to feel. His cheeks might feel a tad warm (is that because of their body heat? Or just the heat of Mister LaRusso's breath close to his skin?), but his heart feels soft, too--because he never imagined anything like this. Even if he got to see Mister LaRusso, where or whenever that was, it wouldn't involve them sitting on his bed (okay, very unlikely) or with the man's arms around him.
...still, Robby slips his other not used hand somewhere on the man's own back, to return the gesture. Unsure, hesitant for a good while; but if it's a hug that Mister LaRusso wants, Robby can give in, and bring his own arms a little tighter around the man to finally reciprocate it properly.
(It's okay, he won't tell anyone about this. He'll keep this to himself. Especially the funny, goofy feeling this is inspiring in him that he really can't explain. Something close to embarrassed, and yet--)
He doesn't rush them. He doesn't want to be the one who decides to pull back, and for the decision he makes that this is for Mister LaRusso, Robby still receives some enjoyment from it. The arms around him, that Mister LaRusso wants to be this close to him; the acceptance in the gesture, and having someone who at all. Someone he knows from back in the Valley, even with as much as he likes Mob, this is different. Knows it would be different the other way around.
There's the outdoor of a dojo he wishes he could see right now, when he closes his eyes; a time and place that's so far away, a reunion that hadn't ever needed to be. Tatami mats and sliding doors.
Mister LaRusso looks like a mess. He shouldn't be like this. ]
...you feeling okay? You need medicine or anything? [ They're not words meant to interrupt this moment, but just something to make sure; a concern that makes Robby rub his hand on Mister LaRusso's own back a little, copying his sentiment. ] I can make some toast if you wanna stay in bed. You eat toast for hangovers?
[ This might be too much to be asking a man who can't speak very well, but he's asking it slowly, thoughtfully. He can't help himself. It's a habit. ]
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It makes him slowly pull out of the hug, still sitting on the bed, but at least now able to look at Robby. He needed to be able to do so anyway to be able to even try to communicate with the boy, try to form an answer to what Robby is asking him.
Especially when it's a good question. Daniel frowns a little, knowing that he should probably have some of his painkillers for this hangover - but then again, those are in his apartment, and with each passing moment Daniel realises more and more this must be Robby's apartment instead - and maybe drink some water. Robby's presence - the surprise of it, the joy of it - makes it easy to forget his hangover for a moment, but it doesn't mean it isn't still very present.
He's already nodding when the boy asks about the medicine, but Daniel figures he should probably articulate things a bit better here. Remembering his thought about Robby's phone, Daniel leans forward just a little to see if the phone remains where Robby was sitting a moment ago.
And it is there. Daniel plucks it off the floor, some relief in his expression when he realises he can now actually speak with Robby, even if it's still not as ideal as using his own voice.
.. It's not the only thing Daniel finds though.
There's something else on the floor. It's further away, and Daniel can only get a peek at it, but something about it seems.. oddly familiar.
Enough so that the man gets all the way off the bed - slowly, not wanting to tumble over like an idiot with his hangover - to walk over to the item, picking it up. Something about the frame seemed familiar, but the reality of what it is doesn't hit Daniel until he turns it over, seeing two very familiar faces smiling back at him from the photo in the frame.
The man glances between the frame and the boy sitting on the bed. He walks back to sit back down next to Robby again, momentarily placing the framed photo on his lap so he can use his hands to write text on the phone, making the device read it out loud with a robotic voice, the way he had tried to do when Robby found him earlier. ]
Where did you find this, Robby?
[ The robotic tone carries absolutely no emotion, just dutifully reading the letters and words out loud.
But Daniel has some emotion. No offense, or anger, or anything like that, though. Instead he mostly seems surprised, with something more emotional at the edges of it. ]
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