[ 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. ]
[ Robby doesn't mean to disrupt the moment, but if Mister LaRusso's ready to come out of the hug, then he doesn't fight it. He pulls back to keep himself up by his own weight, smiling a little at the older man when their eyes catch; uncertain, embarrassed, but more in the way that's suitable for two people meeting after so long and with the missteps made between them: where this all feels like it should be unreal, but somehow, it isn't.
Even seeing Mister LaRusso's face so close--and even with its marks, its bruising--is so much to him. ]
I'll get some, [ he tells him about the medicine and the food, already starting to lift himself off from the bed. His feet don't get in the way of what's on the floor, and he doesn't think to pick it up; and it seems Mister LaRusso is doing so when he spots him going for his phone, the man's own still in his jacket pocket. Robby's about to let him know about it, but the words catch in his throat when he notices where Mister LaRusso's attention goes next, what pauses him in his place.
The faces he can see smiling underneath the glass.
It pauses Robby as well, watching Mister LaRusso pick up the framed photo into his hand, examining it for a while. He stays standing there by the bed, even when Mister LaRusso sits back down again, typing out what turns out to be a text-to-voice message. Wondering what he's thinking, curious about what he might say--does Mister LaRusso remember that day? Did he put it in the packaging he found it in?
Admittedly, the voice from the phone unnerves him a little, but Robby shakes it off. Right-- ]
Did you hear about the bank? My roommate wanted to check it out, so I went with him. Turned out the back room had a bunch of storage drawers with stuff in them that belongs to people. That was in my drawer.
[ He nods to the frame at that end, and then remembers what else he has on him: what now feels like it's burning in his pocket, and even thinking about it makes him add: ]
Someone had my juvie forms in hers.
[ And if Mister LaRusso looks at him then, Robby will miss his eye, look away. ]
The sword that's been hanging over them this entire time. Sure, technically it's two swords, if you want to count this as one and Cobra Kai as the other, but in Daniel's mind they are intrinsically connected. He couldn't have imagined Robby ever having joined Cobra Kai if things hadn't gone down the way they had - if Daniel hadn't made the mistakes he made. If he hadn't failed Robby so hard that the only thing the boy could do was move towards the worst place possible. Why else would Robby ever have-- the boy who looked right at him when he said mister Miyagi would surely make an exception when it came to using violence with Cobra Kai, who seemed more suspicious of ex-Cobra Kai students joining them at first than anyone else.
And Daniel knows that Robby knows it's the sword hanging over them too. Daniel actually manages to keep looking at Robby, even after the boy mentions the j-word, but the way he can't seem to catch Robby's gaze says it all.
He stops his attempts to catch the gaze, instead looking down at the photo on his lap, his eyes instead meeting the gaze of the boy staring out of the frame at him, a smile on that Robby's face that's reflected in his eyes.
Daniel sucks in a breath, and he knows what he has to do. This isn't even about a fear of losing Robby right after having regained the ability to talk - or, you know, "talk" - with the boy again at all. It's about doing right by Robby. The young Robby staring at him, unknowing of what's yet to happen to him, and the Robby standing here with him in this room.
He types on his phone. ]
I am so sorry, Robby.
[ If Robby does turn to him this time to try and stop him, or tries to speak up and interrupt, Daniel will shake his head - and can Robby really resist those big, sad, guilty baby brows staring at him?
Just let him type for another moment. He has to say this. It can't even wait until god knows when Daniel will find his actual voice again. ]
I know what you said. [ Only a few moments ago. That Daniel doesn't have to apologize to Robby. But that's the thing-- he does. He does. ] But you did all of that because I hurt you. I never meant to, of course, but I still did. I wanted to help you, but I went the wrong way about it. I should just have talked with you about juvie.
[ Daniel can feel the guilt churning in his gut, just thinking about it. Just hearing the phone read his apology out loud, the sound echoing in his ears. It's mirrored in his expression too - especially when Daniel already looks so tired and kind of pathetic, considering his current physical state. ]
You are a good person, Robby. And if you ever had to feel otherwise, it's since I let you down when you needed me the most.
[ Of course Robby tries to speak. The moment that first line comes out from the phone, the dull monotonous apology that speaks for Mister LaRusso, Robby pipes up himself with the plan to say more, maybe even the sliver of an urge to take the phone from him. It's only the shake of the head and look that Robby receives that stops him, both physically and verbally.
He bites down on his bottom lip with a frown, his own pathetic look shot right back at Mister LaRusso, even if the older man looks away to continue to text away onto his phone.
And nothing about it changes Robby's mind, the words he wanted to say to cut him off with. The expression he gives Mister LaRusso, a plea to understand. ]
I don't care about that anymore. I'm just...tired of the whole thing. Being angry at you and my dad, hating Miguel and Sam, it never got me anywhere. You were there for me more than anyone's been there in my life. But I...
[ How can he explain it? When there are some wounds there, sure, the kind he would like to leave buried, the type of hurt that has yet to be completely pushed aside. What about their talk in the rehab garden hurt, what he felt replayed when Sam came and found him in the skatepark. It's a hurt that breathes in slowly, a balloon inflating within his ribcage, pushing against it and his insides uncomfortably.
But where does he take it? A feeling so irrational, so exhausting--what good is there in unpacking it, when assigning blame just left him as miserable as he was after the tournament? When hearing it now, not exactly with Mister LaRusso's voice, but a stand-in good enough only makes his limbs tired? His heart ache.
His head hangs in the moment he unravels it, tries to find the words to say what he's already said. Looking up again at Mister LaRusso, the request still in his features, the slant of his brows. ]
I missed you, [ he settles on, softly. ] And I made choices that you can't take the blame for. And I would've been fine if you didn't want to forgive me for them, but I want to let go of what I've been carrying for this past year.
[ At least Daniel does stay quiet now it's Robby's time to speak. He isn't even holding on to the phone anymore, not in the position ready to text again - instead having put the device down on his lap with the photo, turning his attention fully towards the boy, two gazes crossing each other.
Even though it's hard. It was hard enough when Robby's gaze was hostile, when he shoved a wall between them that Daniel just couldn't climb over. This is hard too, but in a different way, a way that makes Daniel's chest ache. Robby is far too young to already have to speak like this, talk about being tired, about it hurting.
But this is about what Robby wants. So after the other is done talking, Daniel nods - after a tiny pause, and slowly, but he nods. If Robby wants to let it go, then.. Daniel will try to do the same thing, even though what Terry Silver has done to him makes it feel harder to let go of anything, makes it feel like everything is forever trapped right inside of his ribcage, stuck there alongside his heart.
But if this is what Robby wants, then he will try. Then he will nod.
The nod is followed up with Daniel patting the spot on the bed besides him, like he's asking Robby to sit back down again, if not for a moment.
And when the boy does, Daniel looks down at the photo again, moving it a little so it's more between him and Robby, in a spot where they can both see it. Even if Daniel is quiet for another moment, unsure of where to start, how to address Robby's feelings on top of it - something about the picture compels him to speak about it-- picking up Robby's phone again to talk. ]
I thought of you a lot. [ Like he said, he missed Robby. Like Robby just said-- he missed Daniel too. ] I had this photo ready, but then everything happened, and it didn't feel like I had the right to put it up anymore. I still looked at it from time to time.
[ Until it hurt too much. But that's not what Daniel wants to say here after what Robby he said, not what he wants to touch on for the boy. ]
I packed it up, hoping that I would be able to put it up one day. Or give it to you.
[ Hence the state Robby had found the object in in the first place. ]
Because this day was so important to me. [ He stops typing for a moment, instead tapping at the glass of the frame with one hand, staring at the two smiling faces for a moment. It makes something soften in his gaze. ] I was carrying so much before that moment too. Before we went to mister Miyagi's house and turned it into the dojo, I hadn't been there in years. I know I said back then that I hadn't had the chance to go back there, but it was more just that I couldn't go there. Facing it all after mister Miyagi's death felt too hard. Even just thinking about it hurt, so I acted like I left it all behind me. I stopped teaching Sam karate. I didn't go to mister Miyagi's place anymore, not even to see the cars. I completely banned something that had been such a big part of me out of my life.
[ Daniel stops typing for a moment. He wonders if it'd be easier to just have said all of this if he could've-- but he figures that would've been just as hard as hearing those words being read out loud to him and Robby. Maybe just in different ways.
He swallows, continues, pushed on by the urge that's lingered ever since first laying eyes on the photo, since laying eyes on Robby. Wanting to make sure the boy knows-- ]
What changed all of that was you, Robby. Actually doing karate again, going back to mister Miyagi's place, cleaning up the place the way I had done with him all those years ago..
I could only leave all the grief and pain behind and face all of it because of you. Because I knew that there was someone who needed me.
[ -- that he knows how important he is. In general, but-- also to Daniel.
He types one more sentence, glancing sideways at Robby when it's read out. ]
And that I needed that someone as well.
[ The way one boy can walk into your life and suddenly give it back all of its colour.
[ Robby doesn't hesitate on sitting next to the man. He's honest when he says he's tired--tired of running, from hiding away from the tough subjects. Is he doing that now, by wanting to dismiss and put aside apologies or blame? He doesn't think so; because he knows months of doing that truly didn't get him anywhere, and even the hint of bringing it back up--it makes that fog that haunted him all that time, the anger that he carried around for too long, threaten to emerge. Clinging to his limbs, making his body uncomfortable.
He fought to do anything to ride it, use it so that he'd be free of it. Played Kreese and Silver's games just for a chance to feel anything else, even if it was spite and bitterness.
Robby sits, because he doesn't want to fight anymore.
There's something uncomfortable about the photo, that hasn't lessened since he uncovered it from its wrapping. The faces and mood that have been lost to the time they came from, a kind of innocence that can't be stepped back into. Because Robby remembers that guy next to Mister LaRusso--that student next to his sensei. Wide-eyed, trusting, wanting nothing more than to be someone worth anything, willing to take a few hits to the heart sometimes.
A tiny part of him wouldn't mind being him again, though Robby knows he never can be, doesn't wish it completely. Not when he knows the hurt that follows, and hiding in the past won't bring him any relief.
Maybe this is just what most people feel when they look upon a time and place that held any meaning in their lives, but Robby doesn't get to indulge in it long as Mister LaRusso starts to 'speak'; or as his phone does, and Robby listens to it with a bowed head. Not looking at the photo, but neither at Mister LaRusso, when its not his voice the one verbalising his message. As if doing this will let him concentrate and listen to the words better--and they're worth it, the story that they share. His hands hold loosely together where they sit on his lap, but Robby starts rubbing them some as the message goes on. Not continuously, but idly, playing with his fingers as he tries to imagine a Mister LaRusso that's, truthfully, difficult to see.
Because there's still traces of the man he became to Robby during his hurt, and then there's the parts of him that Mister LaRusso makes him remember, and see. And then Robby knows that he has to connect them both, because neither are wrong: the man with a temper that can be sharp, but a man who kept reaching out, over and over. The man who became his sensei, gave him a home and purpose. The man who could kick him out with a snap of his fingers, the man who let him in so close to his life.
A man he learned to fear for that power he had over him, because he took one too many of those beatings to his chest.
Robby looks at Mister LaRusso once the messages finish. A glance at first, his mind still digesting over the emotion, both of the message and within himself. But he does bring his eyes to rest on the man, his expression tender, his lips pressed together. Slow to speak. ]
...We both messed up, [ he decides--not over meeting each other, not because of what's been shared, but everything after. ] Sometimes, things escalate so much that you don't know how things turned out the way they did. One moment you're doing karate in the back of a garden, and then the next--it's gone. I couldn't see it anymore, that life I had...
[ Because he felt used. He felt disposable.
His hands tighten, his fingernails pressing into his skin. A sharper pain present around the rims of his eyes.
His voice lowers. ]
It didn't exist anymore. And it was hard, unpacking what I did; everything I bottled up, didn't want to deal with. What I did to Miguel... it was easier to bury it. I thought I'd always be a bad guy anyway. Because I got too mad at the wrong time...
[ The wrong kick.
He raises an arm to wipe near an eye with the back of his shirt, sniffs, and takes in a breath to settle his nerves. Presses his hands back together, curling them into one fist. ]
We lost something good, [ is all he can think to say. Without blame, without dwelling into why. Because there's too many reasons why; because it doesn't help with what's already done and gone, won't ever bring back the past.
But maybe, being able to acknowledge the pain and grieve for it is enough--and to do it with someone willing to share their grief with you can mean all the more. ]
[ There's something painful in the words, a different kind than the pain from having to recall all the things he spoke of a moment ago, delving into the well of pain left in the wake of mister Miyagi's death. Or maybe it's a pain that comes from seeing Robby like this - a young boy, and already so full of pain. Caused by adults who screwed up. (Daniel was one of those adults.)
Or maybe it's the deep and sad feeling that's been soaking into his limbs for a while now that's making this feel even heavier. After all - what does Daniel have right now? Even without taking being dragged into this city into consideration, he's lost everything. The dojo is closed. Amanda's about to divorce him and take the kids. He got his ass handed to him by his worst nightmare, by the person who's haunted Daniel's every nightmare over the past decades.
It makes it so tempting to just give up. We lost something good, Robby says, and it applies to basically everything in Daniel's life right now. Why try anymore? Trying only makes him screw up more, dragging other people and their feelings and hurt along into the messiness.
But this is the thing, isn't it? Daniel stares sideways at Robby, at the way the boy seems on the verge of tears, and Daniel can't give up. Yes, he's terrified of hurting Robby again, but maybe the worst kind of hurt he could give the boy would be to give up on him entirely. ]
We did. [ He acknowledges, letting his phone read it out, and then pauses to instead let his hand land on Robby's leg, giving his knee a tiny squeeze. It rests there a moment, Daniel still looking at Robby, regardless of whether or not the boy does look back at him. (If Robby looks, he'll see a similar feeling reflected in Daniel's eyes. Pain, mostly, but definitely more than a little bit of guilt on his end too. Because I got too mad at the wrong time, Robby says, and yeah, Daniel sure knows about that, since shattering Robby's heart feels like a terrible thing on the level of shattering someone's back.)
It's only after that pause he pulls his hand back to use it to type again. ]
But that doesn't mean there is nothing left. Even if things might not be the same, there is always the chance for something new.
[ The bonsai he broke, the guilt he felt over it, the descending spiral of realising that he broke it and that it was never going to be the same again-- until mister Miyagi showed it healing to him. Strong root, just like you, Daniel-san.
Daniel hopes right now, more than ever, that mister Miyagi was right about him. It never really felt that way.
He sucks in a deep breath. ]
I still want to be there for you. If you would let me. [ The choice is Robby's, after all. Sure - he missed Daniel, which is already more of a sentiment than Daniel thought he'd ever get, let alone deserve, but it's not like Robby doesn't have the full right to walk away if he'd want to. After all Daniel put him through-- after Robby only finding him again like this. Drunk. A mess. ] I want to make sure you are safe in this place.
[ There's some irony when a clearly injured man who was found drunk is the one saying that, yes, but it's not like he means it any less for it. ]
I want to spend time with you again.
[ .. he pauses, his lips pressing a little tighter together before adding: ]
I want to prove to you I can do better this time. [ Better by Robby. Isn't that what matters? ]
[ Robby doesn't mean to avoid Mister LaRusso's gaze. He still does, though he looks at him when he squeezes his leg in a brief acknowledgement, a small smile pressed onto his lips that leaves when he looks away. Down at the hand while it's on his knee, then at his own hands--feeling the weight of their conversation, the emotions exposed.
He's never spoken much about it. Everything, and the cracks he's allowing to come through now. Later, he might wonder if it's because of the juvie papers in his pocket that kept him coming back to Miguel, the fight--but it was a fight that became about more than just two people, that was never just about them in the first place.
It's not a bad thing. It's not bad to admit to what he's done, and he feels they're in agreement when Mister LaRusso continues using his phone to get out his messages, which....Robby will start to pay better attention to, watching his hands as he types.
I want to spend time with you again. I want to prove to you I can do better this time.
Robby clasps his hands together, gives a tiny--but more fun--smile as he looks at Mister LaRusso. ]
As you saying you want to be my sensei again? [ ...it doesn't really seem like that, except towards the end, which is why his mind goes that. Back to what their relationship was, even though Mister LaRusso was a quasi-guardian to him in that time he lived with him and the rest of the LaRussos.
But maybe it gives him a good reason to say what he isn't sure he'd get a chance to back in the Valley (at least, not any time soon): ] 'Cause I would say yes.
[ The term sensei has always been a loaded one for Daniel. After all, even if he never called mister Miyagi that, prefering to keep using the other's name, mister Miyagi had been his sensei. It elevated the idea of what a sensei is or what a sensei is supposed to do to such great heights in Daniel's mind. And yet he did try. He started his own dojo, got more students, and tried to be the kind of person that deserved that title.
.. and then failed spectacularly. Again, and again, and again.
He looks over at Robby while the other speaks, and keeps looking even after that, even as all those thoughts go through his mind. He has to look at the main product of Daniel's personal failures as a sensei, he has to acknowledge it.
Which also means acknowledging Robby's own feelings, right? What Robby wants. Even if there's a large part of Daniel that feels like he isn't qualified for this, a part that's only grown larger and larger with the Silver situation spiralling wildly out of hand-- it's Robby's decision, more than anyone else's.
(And it's not like Daniel doesn't want it, right? Sure, he doesn't feel like he deserves it, but that's another level entirely. If he's honest with himself, he knows he's selfish enough to want to strengthen his bond with Robby all over again, given the choice.)
So after a few moments of quiet staring, Daniel's lips finally curl up into a smile. It's faint, but.. it doesn't seem to be fake. Even as small as it is, it's real, and there's something touched in the man's gaze.
He doesn't use Robby's phone to reply this time. He just rests the device in his lap, using his hands not to text but to reach out. Not to Robby's knee this time, but instead a hand on his back, resting between his shoulderblades, warm and steady despite Daniel's rather haggard appearance.
[ It's, at the very least, not a question that comes with the expectation for their lives to fall back into the training that took place in their past--that this will bring Miyagi-do to this city, that they might even do anything seriously with karate. Maybe they will, maybe they won't; Robby isn't thinking any further than the memory of who Mister LaRusso used to be to him, as his sensei.
A different kind of sensei than Kreese or Silver had ever become, only concerned with technique and winning. So when Robby sees the smile, the warmth that seems to enter his gaze, Robby bumps their arms together, or what he can from where they both sit. After that nod, the hand that's on his back; a friendly, easy gesture given in return. Something that hasn't been there between them in so long.
It has Robby still smiling after, pinched onto his lips. They still have their current circumstances to deal with, but maybe for a moment, it's easy to forget about, to put side and not have be the main focus. A reprieve even from the severity of what they're going through, and Robby enjoys it, sense be damned.
It's just nice, to have Mister LaRusso accept him again--after everything. And though he won't say it himself, he plans to look after the older man too. But you know, he can't be as mushy about it as him.
Instead--though without any rush to leave this nice position of sitting next to Mister LaRusso and all--Robby turns to him, cocking his head. ]
You want me to get that water and everything now?
[ You know. That thing he was meant to be doing. ]
Granted, Robby did mention something about the door not wanting to open - but maybe it was just stuck? Maybe Daniel could try to get it open this time. Not like he isn't used to doing some DIY, after all. Opening stuck doors is basically the same thing. And he knows that even though meeting Robby again and establishing this new trust between them has done wonders for his heart already, there's only so much it can do for Daniel's current hangover. He really should get something to drink, and some pills.
.. and he should probably lie back down, too. It'd be the smartest option. But even though Daniel rationally knows it's not like Robby will disappear from this world if he leaves this room, there's something about being allowed by the boy's side again that Daniel is reluctant to part with again so quickly.
So after nodding again, he actually moves to stand up again. It's a little wobbly at first once more, but then he seems to grow a bit more steady on his legs.
(Hey-- balance is his thing, okay?)
He doesn't even have to write that he's coming along onto the phone. His body language and actions betray it all already, and when Daniel slowly moves over to the door, it actually opens easily with just some minor pressure on the doorknob. Huh, Robby, seems like it wasn't such a problem after all..!
Not that Daniel comments on it. There's way more important things to be said, things he skipped over because he was too taken by the surprise of Robby to really think about anything else. So he turns to look at the boy, perhaps having to lean against the wall with his shoulder a little to steady himself, still kind of dizzy and nauseous.
Not too dizzy and nauseous to type, though. ]
How have you been here?
[ Another thing that's important to know, even if he couldn't get to it until now. ]
[ A sensei won't just let his student take care of him, will he?
Because look who's coming with him when he stands up? And look at the face Robby makes when he sees you getting up, Daniel. Because that's a face of a boy who isn't very pleased to see their drunken companion getting out of bed, considering the empty bottle he had been accompanied by at the grave. Call it being a learned form of worry warting over drunken adults, but he figures he won't complain right away.
He'll let him get up to have a drink with his painkillers, have a bite to eat, and Robby can shove him back to bed if he needs to.
First things first: the door.
...which is an entirely undramatic affair when the handle is tried, and--what the fuck, it dares to open? What the fuck. And yes, Robby is internally pissed about that, because do you know how long he was sitting around inside that room because it wouldn't open?
--whatever. Whatever, we're not getting stuck on the door.
He's going to suck on the inside of the cheek and have Thoughts about it instead, curse it a little more, seeing as he can't move with Mister LaRusso stopping and typing. That would be rude. ]
You should've stayed in bed.
[ ...that callout isn't rude, though. It's just The Truth. But alright, alright: ] I'm fine. [ ...well. ] As fine as anyone here can be.
[ Which can only lead Robby to that question that was bugging him before, a small frown coming onto his face. He nods at Mister LaRusso. ]
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strongroots) wrote2023-07-11 06:52 pm
no subject
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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Even seeing Mister LaRusso's face so close--and even with its marks, its bruising--is so much to him. ]
I'll get some, [ he tells him about the medicine and the food, already starting to lift himself off from the bed. His feet don't get in the way of what's on the floor, and he doesn't think to pick it up; and it seems Mister LaRusso is doing so when he spots him going for his phone, the man's own still in his jacket pocket. Robby's about to let him know about it, but the words catch in his throat when he notices where Mister LaRusso's attention goes next, what pauses him in his place.
The faces he can see smiling underneath the glass.
It pauses Robby as well, watching Mister LaRusso pick up the framed photo into his hand, examining it for a while. He stays standing there by the bed, even when Mister LaRusso sits back down again, typing out what turns out to be a text-to-voice message. Wondering what he's thinking, curious about what he might say--does Mister LaRusso remember that day? Did he put it in the packaging he found it in?
Admittedly, the voice from the phone unnerves him a little, but Robby shakes it off. Right-- ]
Did you hear about the bank? My roommate wanted to check it out, so I went with him. Turned out the back room had a bunch of storage drawers with stuff in them that belongs to people. That was in my drawer.
[ He nods to the frame at that end, and then remembers what else he has on him: what now feels like it's burning in his pocket, and even thinking about it makes him add: ]
Someone had my juvie forms in hers.
[ And if Mister LaRusso looks at him then, Robby will miss his eye, look away. ]
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The sword that's been hanging over them this entire time. Sure, technically it's two swords, if you want to count this as one and Cobra Kai as the other, but in Daniel's mind they are intrinsically connected. He couldn't have imagined Robby ever having joined Cobra Kai if things hadn't gone down the way they had - if Daniel hadn't made the mistakes he made. If he hadn't failed Robby so hard that the only thing the boy could do was move towards the worst place possible. Why else would Robby ever have-- the boy who looked right at him when he said mister Miyagi would surely make an exception when it came to using violence with Cobra Kai, who seemed more suspicious of ex-Cobra Kai students joining them at first than anyone else.
And Daniel knows that Robby knows it's the sword hanging over them too. Daniel actually manages to keep looking at Robby, even after the boy mentions the j-word, but the way he can't seem to catch Robby's gaze says it all.
He stops his attempts to catch the gaze, instead looking down at the photo on his lap, his eyes instead meeting the gaze of the boy staring out of the frame at him, a smile on that Robby's face that's reflected in his eyes.
Daniel sucks in a breath, and he knows what he has to do. This isn't even about a fear of losing Robby right after having regained the ability to talk - or, you know, "talk" - with the boy again at all. It's about doing right by Robby. The young Robby staring at him, unknowing of what's yet to happen to him, and the Robby standing here with him in this room.
He types on his phone. ]
I am so sorry, Robby.
[ If Robby does turn to him this time to try and stop him, or tries to speak up and interrupt, Daniel will shake his head - and can Robby really resist those big, sad, guilty baby brows staring at him?
Just let him type for another moment. He has to say this. It can't even wait until god knows when Daniel will find his actual voice again. ]
I know what you said. [ Only a few moments ago. That Daniel doesn't have to apologize to Robby. But that's the thing-- he does. He does. ] But you did all of that because I hurt you. I never meant to, of course, but I still did. I wanted to help you, but I went the wrong way about it. I should just have talked with you about juvie.
[ Daniel can feel the guilt churning in his gut, just thinking about it. Just hearing the phone read his apology out loud, the sound echoing in his ears. It's mirrored in his expression too - especially when Daniel already looks so tired and kind of pathetic, considering his current physical state. ]
You are a good person, Robby. And if you ever had to feel otherwise, it's since I let you down when you needed me the most.
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[ Of course Robby tries to speak. The moment that first line comes out from the phone, the dull monotonous apology that speaks for Mister LaRusso, Robby pipes up himself with the plan to say more, maybe even the sliver of an urge to take the phone from him. It's only the shake of the head and look that Robby receives that stops him, both physically and verbally.
He bites down on his bottom lip with a frown, his own pathetic look shot right back at Mister LaRusso, even if the older man looks away to continue to text away onto his phone.
And nothing about it changes Robby's mind, the words he wanted to say to cut him off with. The expression he gives Mister LaRusso, a plea to understand. ]
I don't care about that anymore. I'm just...tired of the whole thing. Being angry at you and my dad, hating Miguel and Sam, it never got me anywhere. You were there for me more than anyone's been there in my life. But I...
[ How can he explain it? When there are some wounds there, sure, the kind he would like to leave buried, the type of hurt that has yet to be completely pushed aside. What about their talk in the rehab garden hurt, what he felt replayed when Sam came and found him in the skatepark. It's a hurt that breathes in slowly, a balloon inflating within his ribcage, pushing against it and his insides uncomfortably.
But where does he take it? A feeling so irrational, so exhausting--what good is there in unpacking it, when assigning blame just left him as miserable as he was after the tournament? When hearing it now, not exactly with Mister LaRusso's voice, but a stand-in good enough only makes his limbs tired? His heart ache.
His head hangs in the moment he unravels it, tries to find the words to say what he's already said. Looking up again at Mister LaRusso, the request still in his features, the slant of his brows. ]
I missed you, [ he settles on, softly. ] And I made choices that you can't take the blame for. And I would've been fine if you didn't want to forgive me for them, but I want to let go of what I've been carrying for this past year.
[ He pauses, lips pressing together tight. ]
I don't it anymore. It just hurts.
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Even though it's hard. It was hard enough when Robby's gaze was hostile, when he shoved a wall between them that Daniel just couldn't climb over. This is hard too, but in a different way, a way that makes Daniel's chest ache. Robby is far too young to already have to speak like this, talk about being tired, about it hurting.
But this is about what Robby wants. So after the other is done talking, Daniel nods - after a tiny pause, and slowly, but he nods. If Robby wants to let it go, then.. Daniel will try to do the same thing, even though what Terry Silver has done to him makes it feel harder to let go of anything, makes it feel like everything is forever trapped right inside of his ribcage, stuck there alongside his heart.
But if this is what Robby wants, then he will try. Then he will nod.
The nod is followed up with Daniel patting the spot on the bed besides him, like he's asking Robby to sit back down again, if not for a moment.
And when the boy does, Daniel looks down at the photo again, moving it a little so it's more between him and Robby, in a spot where they can both see it. Even if Daniel is quiet for another moment, unsure of where to start, how to address Robby's feelings on top of it - something about the picture compels him to speak about it-- picking up Robby's phone again to talk. ]
I thought of you a lot. [ Like he said, he missed Robby. Like Robby just said-- he missed Daniel too. ] I had this photo ready, but then everything happened, and it didn't feel like I had the right to put it up anymore. I still looked at it from time to time.
[ Until it hurt too much. But that's not what Daniel wants to say here after what Robby he said, not what he wants to touch on for the boy. ]
I packed it up, hoping that I would be able to put it up one day. Or give it to you.
[ Hence the state Robby had found the object in in the first place. ]
Because this day was so important to me. [ He stops typing for a moment, instead tapping at the glass of the frame with one hand, staring at the two smiling faces for a moment. It makes something soften in his gaze. ] I was carrying so much before that moment too. Before we went to mister Miyagi's house and turned it into the dojo, I hadn't been there in years. I know I said back then that I hadn't had the chance to go back there, but it was more just that I couldn't go there. Facing it all after mister Miyagi's death felt too hard. Even just thinking about it hurt, so I acted like I left it all behind me. I stopped teaching Sam karate. I didn't go to mister Miyagi's place anymore, not even to see the cars. I completely banned something that had been such a big part of me out of my life.
[ Daniel stops typing for a moment. He wonders if it'd be easier to just have said all of this if he could've-- but he figures that would've been just as hard as hearing those words being read out loud to him and Robby. Maybe just in different ways.
He swallows, continues, pushed on by the urge that's lingered ever since first laying eyes on the photo, since laying eyes on Robby. Wanting to make sure the boy knows-- ]
What changed all of that was you, Robby. Actually doing karate again, going back to mister Miyagi's place, cleaning up the place the way I had done with him all those years ago..
I could only leave all the grief and pain behind and face all of it because of you. Because I knew that there was someone who needed me.
[ -- that he knows how important he is. In general, but-- also to Daniel.
He types one more sentence, glancing sideways at Robby when it's read out. ]
And that I needed that someone as well.
[ The way one boy can walk into your life and suddenly give it back all of its colour.
Had it been like that for mister Miyagi too? ]
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He fought to do anything to ride it, use it so that he'd be free of it. Played Kreese and Silver's games just for a chance to feel anything else, even if it was spite and bitterness.
Robby sits, because he doesn't want to fight anymore.
There's something uncomfortable about the photo, that hasn't lessened since he uncovered it from its wrapping. The faces and mood that have been lost to the time they came from, a kind of innocence that can't be stepped back into. Because Robby remembers that guy next to Mister LaRusso--that student next to his sensei. Wide-eyed, trusting, wanting nothing more than to be someone worth anything, willing to take a few hits to the heart sometimes.
A tiny part of him wouldn't mind being him again, though Robby knows he never can be, doesn't wish it completely. Not when he knows the hurt that follows, and hiding in the past won't bring him any relief.
Maybe this is just what most people feel when they look upon a time and place that held any meaning in their lives, but Robby doesn't get to indulge in it long as Mister LaRusso starts to 'speak'; or as his phone does, and Robby listens to it with a bowed head. Not looking at the photo, but neither at Mister LaRusso, when its not his voice the one verbalising his message. As if doing this will let him concentrate and listen to the words better--and they're worth it, the story that they share. His hands hold loosely together where they sit on his lap, but Robby starts rubbing them some as the message goes on. Not continuously, but idly, playing with his fingers as he tries to imagine a Mister LaRusso that's, truthfully, difficult to see.
Because there's still traces of the man he became to Robby during his hurt, and then there's the parts of him that Mister LaRusso makes him remember, and see. And then Robby knows that he has to connect them both, because neither are wrong: the man with a temper that can be sharp, but a man who kept reaching out, over and over. The man who became his sensei, gave him a home and purpose. The man who could kick him out with a snap of his fingers, the man who let him in so close to his life.
A man he learned to fear for that power he had over him, because he took one too many of those beatings to his chest.
Robby looks at Mister LaRusso once the messages finish. A glance at first, his mind still digesting over the emotion, both of the message and within himself. But he does bring his eyes to rest on the man, his expression tender, his lips pressed together. Slow to speak. ]
...We both messed up, [ he decides--not over meeting each other, not because of what's been shared, but everything after. ] Sometimes, things escalate so much that you don't know how things turned out the way they did. One moment you're doing karate in the back of a garden, and then the next--it's gone. I couldn't see it anymore, that life I had...
[ Because he felt used. He felt disposable.
His hands tighten, his fingernails pressing into his skin. A sharper pain present around the rims of his eyes.
His voice lowers. ]
It didn't exist anymore. And it was hard, unpacking what I did; everything I bottled up, didn't want to deal with. What I did to Miguel... it was easier to bury it. I thought I'd always be a bad guy anyway. Because I got too mad at the wrong time...
[ The wrong kick.
He raises an arm to wipe near an eye with the back of his shirt, sniffs, and takes in a breath to settle his nerves. Presses his hands back together, curling them into one fist. ]
We lost something good, [ is all he can think to say. Without blame, without dwelling into why. Because there's too many reasons why; because it doesn't help with what's already done and gone, won't ever bring back the past.
But maybe, being able to acknowledge the pain and grieve for it is enough--and to do it with someone willing to share their grief with you can mean all the more. ]
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Or maybe it's the deep and sad feeling that's been soaking into his limbs for a while now that's making this feel even heavier. After all - what does Daniel have right now? Even without taking being dragged into this city into consideration, he's lost everything. The dojo is closed. Amanda's about to divorce him and take the kids. He got his ass handed to him by his worst nightmare, by the person who's haunted Daniel's every nightmare over the past decades.
It makes it so tempting to just give up. We lost something good, Robby says, and it applies to basically everything in Daniel's life right now. Why try anymore? Trying only makes him screw up more, dragging other people and their feelings and hurt along into the messiness.
But this is the thing, isn't it? Daniel stares sideways at Robby, at the way the boy seems on the verge of tears, and Daniel can't give up. Yes, he's terrified of hurting Robby again, but maybe the worst kind of hurt he could give the boy would be to give up on him entirely. ]
We did. [ He acknowledges, letting his phone read it out, and then pauses to instead let his hand land on Robby's leg, giving his knee a tiny squeeze. It rests there a moment, Daniel still looking at Robby, regardless of whether or not the boy does look back at him. (If Robby looks, he'll see a similar feeling reflected in Daniel's eyes. Pain, mostly, but definitely more than a little bit of guilt on his end too. Because I got too mad at the wrong time, Robby says, and yeah, Daniel sure knows about that, since shattering Robby's heart feels like a terrible thing on the level of shattering someone's back.)
It's only after that pause he pulls his hand back to use it to type again. ]
But that doesn't mean there is nothing left. Even if things might not be the same, there is always the chance for something new.
[ The bonsai he broke, the guilt he felt over it, the descending spiral of realising that he broke it and that it was never going to be the same again-- until mister Miyagi showed it healing to him. Strong root, just like you, Daniel-san.
Daniel hopes right now, more than ever, that mister Miyagi was right about him. It never really felt that way.
He sucks in a deep breath. ]
I still want to be there for you. If you would let me. [ The choice is Robby's, after all. Sure - he missed Daniel, which is already more of a sentiment than Daniel thought he'd ever get, let alone deserve, but it's not like Robby doesn't have the full right to walk away if he'd want to. After all Daniel put him through-- after Robby only finding him again like this. Drunk. A mess. ] I want to make sure you are safe in this place.
[ There's some irony when a clearly injured man who was found drunk is the one saying that, yes, but it's not like he means it any less for it. ]
I want to spend time with you again.
[ .. he pauses, his lips pressing a little tighter together before adding: ]
I want to prove to you I can do better this time. [ Better by Robby. Isn't that what matters? ]
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He's never spoken much about it. Everything, and the cracks he's allowing to come through now. Later, he might wonder if it's because of the juvie papers in his pocket that kept him coming back to Miguel, the fight--but it was a fight that became about more than just two people, that was never just about them in the first place.
It's not a bad thing. It's not bad to admit to what he's done, and he feels they're in agreement when Mister LaRusso continues using his phone to get out his messages, which....Robby will start to pay better attention to, watching his hands as he types.
I want to spend time with you again. I want to prove to you I can do better this time.
Robby clasps his hands together, gives a tiny--but more fun--smile as he looks at Mister LaRusso. ]
As you saying you want to be my sensei again? [ ...it doesn't really seem like that, except towards the end, which is why his mind goes that. Back to what their relationship was, even though Mister LaRusso was a quasi-guardian to him in that time he lived with him and the rest of the LaRussos.
But maybe it gives him a good reason to say what he isn't sure he'd get a chance to back in the Valley (at least, not any time soon): ] 'Cause I would say yes.
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.. and then failed spectacularly. Again, and again, and again.
He looks over at Robby while the other speaks, and keeps looking even after that, even as all those thoughts go through his mind. He has to look at the main product of Daniel's personal failures as a sensei, he has to acknowledge it.
Which also means acknowledging Robby's own feelings, right? What Robby wants. Even if there's a large part of Daniel that feels like he isn't qualified for this, a part that's only grown larger and larger with the Silver situation spiralling wildly out of hand-- it's Robby's decision, more than anyone else's.
(And it's not like Daniel doesn't want it, right? Sure, he doesn't feel like he deserves it, but that's another level entirely. If he's honest with himself, he knows he's selfish enough to want to strengthen his bond with Robby all over again, given the choice.)
So after a few moments of quiet staring, Daniel's lips finally curl up into a smile. It's faint, but.. it doesn't seem to be fake. Even as small as it is, it's real, and there's something touched in the man's gaze.
He doesn't use Robby's phone to reply this time. He just rests the device in his lap, using his hands not to text but to reach out. Not to Robby's knee this time, but instead a hand on his back, resting between his shoulderblades, warm and steady despite Daniel's rather haggard appearance.
And Daniel nods. ]
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A different kind of sensei than Kreese or Silver had ever become, only concerned with technique and winning. So when Robby sees the smile, the warmth that seems to enter his gaze, Robby bumps their arms together, or what he can from where they both sit. After that nod, the hand that's on his back; a friendly, easy gesture given in return. Something that hasn't been there between them in so long.
It has Robby still smiling after, pinched onto his lips. They still have their current circumstances to deal with, but maybe for a moment, it's easy to forget about, to put side and not have be the main focus. A reprieve even from the severity of what they're going through, and Robby enjoys it, sense be damned.
It's just nice, to have Mister LaRusso accept him again--after everything. And though he won't say it himself, he plans to look after the older man too. But you know, he can't be as mushy about it as him.
Instead--though without any rush to leave this nice position of sitting next to Mister LaRusso and all--Robby turns to him, cocking his head. ]
You want me to get that water and everything now?
[ You know. That thing he was meant to be doing. ]
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That thing that was supposed to happen.
Granted, Robby did mention something about the door not wanting to open - but maybe it was just stuck? Maybe Daniel could try to get it open this time. Not like he isn't used to doing some DIY, after all. Opening stuck doors is basically the same thing. And he knows that even though meeting Robby again and establishing this new trust between them has done wonders for his heart already, there's only so much it can do for Daniel's current hangover. He really should get something to drink, and some pills.
.. and he should probably lie back down, too. It'd be the smartest option. But even though Daniel rationally knows it's not like Robby will disappear from this world if he leaves this room, there's something about being allowed by the boy's side again that Daniel is reluctant to part with again so quickly.
So after nodding again, he actually moves to stand up again. It's a little wobbly at first once more, but then he seems to grow a bit more steady on his legs.
(Hey-- balance is his thing, okay?)
He doesn't even have to write that he's coming along onto the phone. His body language and actions betray it all already, and when Daniel slowly moves over to the door, it actually opens easily with just some minor pressure on the doorknob. Huh, Robby, seems like it wasn't such a problem after all..!
Not that Daniel comments on it. There's way more important things to be said, things he skipped over because he was too taken by the surprise of Robby to really think about anything else. So he turns to look at the boy, perhaps having to lean against the wall with his shoulder a little to steady himself, still kind of dizzy and nauseous.
Not too dizzy and nauseous to type, though. ]
How have you been here?
[ Another thing that's important to know, even if he couldn't get to it until now. ]
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Because look who's coming with him when he stands up? And look at the face Robby makes when he sees you getting up, Daniel. Because that's a face of a boy who isn't very pleased to see their drunken companion getting out of bed, considering the empty bottle he had been accompanied by at the grave. Call it being a learned form of worry warting over drunken adults, but he figures he won't complain right away.
He'll let him get up to have a drink with his painkillers, have a bite to eat, and Robby can shove him back to bed if he needs to.
First things first: the door.
...which is an entirely undramatic affair when the handle is tried, and--what the fuck, it dares to open? What the fuck. And yes, Robby is internally pissed about that, because do you know how long he was sitting around inside that room because it wouldn't open?
--whatever. Whatever, we're not getting stuck on the door.
He's going to suck on the inside of the cheek and have Thoughts about it instead, curse it a little more, seeing as he can't move with Mister LaRusso stopping and typing. That would be rude. ]
You should've stayed in bed.
[ ...that callout isn't rude, though. It's just The Truth. But alright, alright: ] I'm fine. [ ...well. ] As fine as anyone here can be.
[ Which can only lead Robby to that question that was bugging him before, a small frown coming onto his face. He nods at Mister LaRusso. ]
Did someone here do that to you?
[ Your face. He's talking about your face. ]
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