strongroots | [meme, psls, etc]

[meme, psls, etc]

out of game psls, threads, etc.

There was a time when Robby liked coming to the dojo--back when, if he's honest, he saw some tinsy part of it as his.

That's what you do, when you don't own anything to begin with: you lie to yourself, and about a lot of things. Now, there's just a frustration in his stomach when he has to concede to his circumstances and stay over at night so he isn't sleeping with the stars. He isn't so stubborn as to pick the streets over a roof; he's had enough of that kind of roughing it out, and maybe the begrudging taste in the back of his throat over coming to the dojo has soured less, with a night or two. There's still plenty he's angry over, there's plenty he wants to chew out Mister LaRusso over.

...And then there's the sides of himself, warring over one another: the part of him that doesn't want to think the last few months were all a mistake, and the one that's telling him to see it for what it was. Mister LaRusso never really trusted you; Sam's gone back with Miguel. You were just a handy distraction.

He doesn't want to believe in either. He especially doesn't want to think about Sam.

At least it's easier to be mad over what you know for certain.

And coming to Miyagi-do once the night hits, Robby's thoughts usually go to Mister LaRusso before Sam. That anger in his gut, the tension in his shoulders; he carries it most of the day, nothing to do but sort out his parole, and think, like he didn't spend all his time in juvie doing that. A sensei who betrayed him, a dad who couldn't give a shit about him long enough to be one.

Yeah, he's got a lot to be sour over. Only, there's a night that's different when Robby goes to the dojo, once the sky's littered with stars: there's another car. One outside of the classic collection, and it's a car Robby knows--of course he knows that car. It drops the building apprehension from his gut when he sees it, stopping him, wondering if he's sure it's hers, or maybe it could be Mister LaRusso; and he worries about going ahead into the dojo to find out, a creeping fear in him for what he hasn't wanted to confront.

(What if she's moved on? What if she blames him? What if he's too broken for her to want to deal with? He put Miguel in a coma, he didn't e-mail her. Why would she want to be with him?)

But even if that worry is there, stops him outside the front of the dojo, it's not just fear he feels. He hasn't seen her in months, he never got to her e-mails; he wants to see her, and he knows he can't keep putting it off. Even if that longing in him is buried with every other bad thing running through his mind, the knowledge he could be psyching himself up when it isn't her at all--Robby walks into the dojo, careful with each of the doors. Careful to wipe his shoes outside before he enters, and he finds the door leading out into the garden open, the lantern lights on.

He pauses while still inside, just so he can try and glimpse her; make sure it is her, before he approaches the threshold. His heart in his throat, every part of him expecting the worst.

"...Sam."

It doesn't stop him from calling out to her with that a longing, hesitant as it is. His eyes on her, hoping there's still one person who believes in him.

Who still cares.

Edited 2023-07-11 22:47 (UTC)

Sam was never angry at Robby for what happened during the school fight. That whole fight was a complete mess and so was she afterwards. All she wanted was Robby holding her and comforting her from the pain she had. She also didn't understand why nobody was arresting Tory and putting her in jail, she was the one that caused this entire mess.

She wrote Robby when he was in jail and wondered why he never responded. She just figured he had a lot going on in prison, but she wanted to be there for him no matter what. She loved Robby and that was never going to change. Even if people confronted her because of what happened to Miguel she stood her ground and made sure Robby was never mentioned.

Going to Miyagi-Do was a place she always felt safe. Her father created it and thankfully she was alone right now, gazing up at the starry sky above. Hearing her name... hearing his voice she thought she was hearing things. Then she turned and smiled seeing her boyfriend standing there looking as handsome as ever.

"Robby!" She stood from her spot and running towards him, hugging him tightly. She couldn't believe he was standing there. Her father did mention Robby's release, but she wasn't sure if it was true or not.

Robby manages to step down from the deck by the time Sam's coming over. Some people like looming over others, but Robby's never particularly liked looking down at people, prefers to have equal grounding no matter the conversation. And even if that worry of where this meeting will go clings onto him, her reaction draws him down. He hopes.

And maybe he's just been so lonely, that the sound of her surprise so positive makes Robby come towards her, even if he doesn't rush as she does. But the impact of her, her arms wrapping around him and soft touch of her body to his, the grip of her limps and the smell of her perfume--the conflicted feelings inside him crumble easily, and Robby's returning the hug, his arms wrapping around to her back, face burying against the crook of her neck and hair.

He sinks in to the feel of her, just for a moment. He's missed this contact. He's missed her. And he doesn't want to imagine her being any further from him when he lets her go, the idea of her and Miguel...

Tory was wrong. Robby wants her to have been wrong, as he does finally lean back his head, loosen his arms just a little so he can look at Sam face to face. It doesn't mean he lets her go, but his gaze does drop a few times despite trying to look her in the eye. There's not just a drunk kiss between them, is there?

"Hey." Still, he speaks up. They have so much to talk about, but where to even start? His lips roll together. "I missed you."

He really did.

It's an utterly mundane day in the Valley.

Which, considering what it is on most days when you're mixed up in karate wars, is actually a pretty good day. It means Robby gets to do some training, catch up on his katas, and then spend a good few hours just enjoying himself in the skate park. The skate park? Karate drama free, and he'll never lose the appeal of moving fast and controlling the board with the right push and lift. Helps him unwind, so long as he doesn't do it too closely after anything karate. His legs never appreciate that.

He's not late back to his dad's place, by any means. The day's still pretty young, and he could do with resting up, putting on the headphones and chilling. So is the plan when he tries the front door, finds that it's open--no need to fish out for his spare key from his pocket. He walks in, board in one hand and a "Hey dad" leaving his mouth as he turns, closes the door behind him. Maybe he should have checked to see if his dad's ride was actually in the car park, but it has to be, right?

Except when he turns back around with the door closed behind him, it's not his dad's blond hair he sees--there's some guy. A "Who..." starts and dies in his mouth, as his eyes adjust.

No matter what that other guys says, does, he might just get the "What the fuck?" out, once he realises what...who...he's looking at.

What the fuck indeed.

The days are normal. They're not coming apart, unravelling with each new one that starts.

It was the fear that settled in once Robby's body started to stay more together. To be more; that some awful news would turn up, to do with what he did, to do with the world itself, and he wouldn't be able to do anything. But people came to visit--faces that were difficult to sit with, conversations hard to swallow--and keeping up text conversations made it easier to settle at the times his nerves got the best of him. Mister LaRusos was there, too.

Mister LaRusso was always there.

Robby's not been sure if to call him that. A new term came out from all that mess, one that was maybe selfish, but still stick with him now, after everything. Dad. He clung onto it in the worst of his moments, though it stung to accept, too. Did he deserve to use it? Even if the question of what he deserved was one that he rolled around in his mind, hurt himself as some form of penance.

It always came down to what Mister LaRusso wanted. Would want, trying not to put his own guilt before Mister LaRusso's honesty, and when Robby was honest with himself, their desires weren't always completely different. Robby liked the idea of being a son to Mister LaRusso, too--he liked the closer proximity their relationship had developed over the months. He liked the idea of keeping it around.

But his feelings weren't always as clean as that. He was the one who backed off. He had reasons he never wanted to share.

He was the one always separating them, keeping a step back. Out of fear, from dishonesty; pretending to forget about conversations, refusing to commit. From his feelings not entirely pure, from his uncertainty if he wasn't a replacement for a family not around.

It always came down to the same fear: What if Mister LaRusso wouldn't want him, really?

The possibility might still exist. Even after all this, Mister LaRusso's sleepless nights spent with him, helping him to come together again, be a person; with the pain that Robby caused him before, how his refusal to listen to his concerns led to him becoming so distant from his father figure to begin with--he might give up. He might decide this isn't worth it. He might deny him if he knew reasons Robby hesitated over their relationship in the first place.

...but Robby wants to face it, if he does. He wants to be honest with Mister LaRusso, he wants to cross the bridge he's been avoiding in their relationship. The final few steps.

It happens on a day, not particularly spectacular. One where Mister LaRusso's come in from being out--maybe he's gone into the kitchen, maybe he's in the living room. But he'll get a visitor of two: shisa making his way in first (a good boy, alerting Robby of his sleeper's arrival back home), and of Robby within the doorway; skin pale, but looking less lanky than he has as of late with the actual change of clothes he's put on, if not really overly inspired.

But he's dressed in a flannel shirt, black jeans--as if he were a boy from America than one stuck in the city of Trench. His hair's been combed, slightly crowning his face from the length of it long ago received by Mob.

"Hi," he says, in way of greeting. A start. It's not the first time he's been out of his room, but he knows Mister LaRusso might fuss, anyway. Do that thing with his voice that he does. That's okay.

Robby likes those things about him.

There's no denying that the past while has been incredibly tiring for Daniel. It's getting a little better by the day, but trying to care for Robby while he was slowly coming down from his corruption has still been a lot - only made worse by the fact that Daniel can't ever do these things halfway, running himself ragged to make sure Robby is as comfortable and alright as possible in his current circumstances. Fussiness means that he does more than he probably had to, although he's finally starting to get some sleep at night again, no longer just watching over the boy all night while he was still trying to regain his usual form.

Not that there haven't been plenty of other things to do. There's food to make, a house to take care of, other kids coming over - either to organize their own karate practice sessions or to come see Robby.. It has left its traces on the man, the bags below his eyes more visible, but then again, they had already been there since this whole thing started. And Daniel will definitely take being tired because he's trying to help Robby get better over being tired because he's worrying over a rapidly spiralling Robby who seems to refuse all offers of help.

And it's not like he doesn't keep doing everything he usually does, even with his fatigue. Daniel went out to get some food for the house, only just busying himself with putting everything away in the kitchen when he's already greeted by company. First the small dog that paws at Daniel's legs like it is trying to climb up a mountain all by itself, and then Robby.

Of course Daniel's reaction is entirely predictable. It's exactly what Robby thought it'd be. Even if it's not the first time he's out of bed, it's still not common enough that Daniel doesn't worry every time he sees the boy walking around, like the man is concerned Robby's legs may suddenly fade too much to carry him.

".. Robby."

His tone starts out a little surprised, but halfway through the name it dips into fussiness instead. The food is abandoned on the counter for a moment, Daniel stepping over towards Robby's form in the doorway instead.

"Are you feeling alright enough to be out of bed?" It's a familiar sight at this point, probably. It's something Daniel does often enough - has done often enough, even before any of this happened, though the fussing has certainly been turned up a notch as far as that's possible ever since the need to care for Robby intensified over the last while.

Hands hover for a moment, and then touch. A cold palm against the side of Robby's face, like Daniel is still instinctively trying to feel for something he hasn't been able to feel in a year now, which then changes into a supportive hand on the boy's shoulder instead.

"You should sit down. I'll grab a chair."

Robby touches at the wood of the doorway between the hall and kitchen, feeling the texture under his fingers, grasping it in a way like he's trying to grasp tightly at it. He's been doing that, lately; feeling again at the world, remembering the way everything differentiates, knowing that it's there. And with his hands, numb in spots after magic stitched them back together months ago, it could be said to be for that reason.

But when you nearly lose your own sense of being, you come to appreciate even the smallest details of life you never did before. The feeling of bedsheets, of skin, the tight threading of jeans.

Even if right now, what his hand does isn't what's important, or what Robby's focusing on. He's watching Mister LaRusso come over with all his fuss, the touch to his face that he closes his eyes to, opening again when it leaves. Slowly, his skin still appreciating the chill that's been left behind, and what else has, too. The meaning of the gesture, moved from his face to his shoulder. The words that actions can speak.

He really does like Mister LaRusso's fussing--even if it can be painful too, when the man puts aside himself for others.

But isn't it painful because of love? That kind of love that's brought him out today so he can ask:

"Do you want a bond with me?"

It might be out of a love, too, that Robby doesn't bother with any frills and pomp now, simple in his ask. He does have something of the sort planned if Mister LaRusso agrees, but he's had this thought on his mind stewing on his mind too long, and he wants it out, put on the table, have it be taken or rejected. The details can be discussed depending on the answer, as Robby looks to look at the man, waiting.

...sure, Mister LaRusso might think he's not feeling okay by popping such a big question in the kitchen out of nowhere, and maybe that's why he decides to add, to make it sound better: "I want a bond."

This doesn't sound like the way Vegas weddings happen at all.

Daniel did have some ideas about what Robby would say here. Judging by the fact he's actually got himself fully dressed here, he kind of imagined the other would say that he's okay - not fully brushing off the help, at least not in any unkind sort of way, but maybe instead smiling and trying to reassure Daniel a little bit.

That wouldn't have been surprising. Nor would have been a few other things.

But-- this? Of course this is going to be surprising. Of all things to say, and then out of nowhere like this..

Of course it leaves Daniel looking clearly surprised. The man's eyes widen, and for a moment he just stares at Robby, not grabbing the chair he promised a moment ago just yet - like he's frozen on the spot in the wake of the words. It's like his brain is still processing what's going on here, or trying to figure out why it's happening. After all, it's not like they hadn't spoken of the topic before, and Daniel certainly got the impression that Robby didn't want a bond.

And yet. And yet, here it is. Robby saying it so suddenly, after all the chaos of the past while, first with Robby's spiral into corruption and then his - equally slow - spiral back out of it.

Would anyone blame Daniel for thinking the other might be feverish, or that this is just yet another side effect of what happened to the boy? It's not like Daniel ever had to deal with bringing someone down from corruption before, for all he knows a strange desire to bond could just be a very weird part of it.

"Are you--" He starts, his gaze momentarily gliding off before he decides that, no, he needs to actually look at Robby when he asks this. When part of what triggered Robby's entire spiral was Daniel seeming like he didn't believe in Robby, giving off that impression all over again is the last thing he wants to do here.

So he does look at Robby, even if it makes the surprise now heavily mixed with worry in his eyes very obvious.

"Are you feeling okay..? I mean.." It's not that Daniel doesn't want it. Obviously. And it's not even like he believes it is completely beyond Robby to say this.

But he also doesn't want the boy to make rash decisions he might regret later. Robby has had his fill enough of those by now, surely.

".. you didn't want it before," Daniel finally says, offering that as an explanation for his confusion and worry. Because it is the main sticking point here for him, the thing that makes this seem potentially off.

"I didn't want to lose you if we got one."

Some part of Robby might be able or realise, or acknowledge, how he might be coming off with this sudden subject. It's also a very tiny, miniscule part of him, one that the rest of him he doesn't want to care about, or ponder over--it doesn't matter, is the thing. Sitting in his room, remembering the bowl under his bed with the pieces for the ceremony inside, unmixed. The ash, the flower petals; the pestle for crushing and mixing them all together.

Staring at it, and inspired by the urge and remorse of what he didn't have. Did Mister LaRusso ever think about it again? After that first talk about it. When all Robby did was think about it, feel guilty for ignoring it, while he went around with his bond with Mob.

If anything, he could have been less forward about his question, but it doesn't matter now. Robby knows what Mister LaRusso won't understand is his explanation, looking down from him after it's said.

"If we got one, I knew there's things about me I wouldn't be able to keep from you. But I want to be honest--even if you don't want the bond anymore. If we're gonna be a family..."

If Mister LaRusso can really accept him, fully. He should know the truth, shouldn't he? He should get to decide, and Robby should be honest with him.

He looks up at him. "I don't want to hold anything back between us."

Well, at least the things Robby is saying are slowly shifting from potentially fever induced intrusive thoughts to sounding more like something Robby might have been thinking about for a while. Daniel may have stayed by his side as often as he could during the early phases of Robby's recovery, but he felt like he had to start picking up some stuff in the house again when the boy finally got his full body back and other people came to visit him. Still, between those visits from others and Daniel being around, Robby must have had a whole lot of time to do pretty much nothing but think.

.. not that Daniel thought he'd think about this. Even though Daniel's faith in Robby's feelings towards him faltered when the boy pushed himself away through his corruption, the way Robby had been acting during his recovery made it clear that Robby was still fond of him - no, had still been fond of him the entire time.

But moving beyond fondness straight to a bond when the other had been against it before, or straight to if we're gonna be a family when Robby had mostly been using 'dad' jokingly before - that's a jump Daniel didn't quite see coming.

"Robby.."

It's the boy's name that rolls off his tongue first, still standing there and staring at him. The extent of what he's hearing leaves him a little speechless beyond it though, if not just for a moment or two. Daniel never did dare to imagine Robby being so sweet towards him, truly treating them like family without reserve or hesitation about it - mostly because he wanted to leave the decision up to Robby at all times. Daniel didn't want to hope for something that might never happen, or something that might only make Robby uncomfortable.

His gaze drops for a moment, but when it lands on the boy's face again, Daniel speaks on with the part that feels easiest to say here.

"You won't lose me." Which is something Robby - hopefully - knows at this point, so he amends it to: "You wouldn't have lost me."

Sure, he can't tell what exactly is going on in Robby's mind. But given the things he feared Daniel would be mad at him about before, Daniel can't imagine there's something still slumbering in the boy's heart that could truly upset him. The chance is much bigger that it's something that feels like a huge disaster to Robby personally, but actually isn't that big of a deal in reality.

He glances over his shoulder, but then looks back and plants a hand gently between Robby's shoulderblades, guiding the boy along towards the table.

It's not that Daniel doesn't want to listen to him, but.. they sure should sit down for it, since he doesn't want Robby to have to stand around like this while he's still in the final stages of his recovery. So don't mind it if dad helps guide you to a chair and help sit down, Robby, just let him have this bit of fussing, okay--

(Also, please don't mind a tiny shisa leaping onto your lap to rest there, Robby. A little comforting creature, here to try and soothe any potential feelings about this talk.)

"And you can tell me anything. I'll always listen. That's part of being a dad too, you know..?" And Daniel hasn't given up on this, the idea of being Robby's dad, not even after all the recent events. It's something he wouldn't go back on by himself ever since announcing it to the boy quite a while ago.

It's not the direction Robby had thought about going; to the kitchen table, but for the second he seems unsure, Robby relents, lets himself be guided to the chair and sitting down in it without fuss. There's one guy who's doing enough of that.

And a good boy jumping on his lap. He's gotten used to his company--and gotten over his reluctance--to rest his hands around him, like a small, fluffy source of comfort. It's just nice, having his arms around something. The feeling of a weight the omen can give him, despite its otherwise smoke-made being.

(But he's always been better about hiding his smoke, compared to a certain other omen.)

...but having shisa there might be more comforting, for the reasons that the omen joins him than for what Robby figured he was there for. The kitchen feels too much like an open space, or maybe that isn't the reason alone that Robby finds himself hesitating from telling the truth. A truth he hadn't wanted Mister LaRusso to know for a good reason; something he worries that might seem childish the moment he says it, stupid--because why did he let something that would never matter hold him back?

Robby stares at the kitchen table as he tries to find his voice. He decided he would tell him--so he swallows down his doubt and opens his mouth.

"I never talked about the bond again because... because of the same reason I never gave a straight answer about you seeing me like a son. I mean-- I worried," he looks at Mister LaRusso briefly, ever so quick, "that you just missed your family, or everything would mess up somehow."

Like it did, he thinks wryly. Well, he couldn't avoid that, even if it didn't mess up the way he had imagined.

"But..." He stops, curls his fingers into the bed of the omen's fur. "But I liked it, living with you. Laying in bed together, helping you cook... it was fun. Really fun."

Those times, they already felt like a family. I already saw you like a dad. but how can he admit to that to where his confession is going? Putting them side by side, not sounding like a freak who can't tell the difference.

It makes him fall silent again, struggling to find the means to say what he wants to, express it in a safer way. But there is none, he finds.

Eventually, all he can do is spit out:

"Sometimes, I liked you more than as a dad. ... I always did."

Even back home.

There's the urge to speak up in the middle of what Robby is saying. Daniel gets so close to actually doing it, only managing to shut his mouth at the last moment before any actual words can come out, since he doesn't want to interrupt when the boy is clearly already having so much trouble getting all of this out in the first place.

But he still wants Robby to know. He doesn't want him to ever feel like he's just a replacement, or that any of this is just because Daniel misses his own kids. Sure, he does miss Samantha and Anthony - every single day, a pain that doesn't seem to fade even after almost a year away from them. But that has nothing to do with what he feels for Robby, not when Daniel realised - looking back on it all - that he actually already felt this sort of way about Robby way back home during the summer Robby stayed at their place.

.. he can tell him later, he tells himself. First Daniel wants to sit there, and he wants to properly listen if all of this is so important to Robby.

Still, the man is completely oblivious to what's to come. Unlike a certain other creature, who's giving Robby's hands encouraging little nuzzles while the boy speaks, moving to shove its fluff further against the boy's hands.

Until the inevitable truth comes out.

A truth that - quite honestly - Daniel can't quite wrap his mind around. He hears the words, and even though there's an obvious answer, his brain still struggles to try and realise what liking someone as more than a dad does. Maybe it's in the way mister Miyagi meant so much to him - not just a sensei, but a father, both roles in one - but that can't be it, or Robby wouldn't be looking like this about it, wouldn't be so scared and reluctant to express the sentiment when Robby has managed to say plenty of sweet things to him before.

That leaves only one option. One that even Daniel's own mind slowly travels towards, but it's at the same time one that just.. doesn't make sense, no matter how many times he turns it over in his mind.

"What.. do you mean?"

He speaks slowly, the look in his eyes unsure - but he's trying to keep his tone and expression still somewhat gentle, not wanting to startle or scare Robby while he's trying to get all of this out there.

But it can't be-- It can't be that. He's misunderstanding it, clearly. That's why he's asking in the first place.

It's always the response Robby feared, the opening that would take this spiralling downhill. Now to be hit with it, shame churns in his stomach, a desire to back down--but what the hell does he have to lose but everything? Staring into the wood of the table, his hands on the omen still, as the reason he came out here plays back in his head. He decided this; he's the one who needs to go through with it.

There's nowhere but forward, now, for the both of them.

"I had a crush on you."

Because it's up to Mister LaRusso if they can be a family once he knows. At least speaking to the table is a little easier than watching the weight of the man's gaze on him, and how it might shift, change; if he'll catch the signs of disappointment and regret he's easily imagined plenty of times before.

He can't completely avoid it if it's to come, but he can give himself some mercy, by a few seconds.

There's no way Daniel can't understand these words. Not when what Robby says is so clear, so direct. Words that have no other meaning than the thought that rose in Daniel's own mind only a moment ago, the thought he threw away because it felt too outlandish. After all, Robby-- A crush? On him? But Robby is just a teenager, and Daniel is his teacher, and..

.. and suddenly it feels very familiar, in a way that makes Daniel sick to his very stomach. It's not like teenage boys never get crushed on their teachers, right? When Daniel could go to the places in his mind he never wants to go, the remembrance of a time long ago where an older teacher made him feel wanted, praised him, hands on his body, and Daniel had fantasized--

But that had been wrong. So wrong. Even Daniel himself realised it, the very moment the tower of cards came crumbling down. Once he realised Terry Silver had lied to him about everything, he realised the other had probably done even that on purpose. Stirring him up, leading him on.

But if he's looking at Robby across the table now like he's looking into a mirror that leads to the past, and then that means Robby is him, his younger self, and Daniel is..

.. Daniel is the one thing he never wanted to be.

He stares at the boy with horror, but it's got nothing to do with what this confession says about Robby, and everything to do with what it says about Daniel. He mentally tries to go back to his old memories with Robby, trying to recall them clearly enough to think back on every action, on every little thing he did. Was he leading Robby on all this time?

His throat feels so dry, and the little creature on Robby's lap perks up, standing up on the boy's lap so it can rest its little front paws on top of the table, peering over at Daniel - feeling every single emotion that's going through the man's body, being able to tell what Daniel is thinking. The shisa considers pulling Robby's attention towards it, but on the other hand, it also doesn't want to make things harder on a boy who's already struggling to say this in the first place.. Sometimes an omen's duty is hard..

Daniel does speak up though, even if he needs a moment first. Just a moment to gather his thoughts, though once he does speak, the words tumble across his lips as if they're in a hurry to be said.

"Robby, I-- I'm so sorry." There's a depth in those words, a desperate plea, a kind of guilt. No disappointment, nor regret, but instead worry. "Did.. Did I do anything to make you feel you had to..?"

He can't even find the right words for it, honestly. Even this doesn't feel quite right, but-- He has to know. Daniel would absolutely never forgive himself if he put Robby through the same thing Terry put him through all those years ago. If he copied his own worst nightmare.

Seconds can feel like hours, though the silence doesn't even come up to a minute. Robby notices when the omen moves from his lap, letting his arms give the creature the room it wants, or needs; and he considers looking to see what's happening, when he knows it's looking at Mister LaRusso, but--

--but does he want to? Is there a look on his face that he wants to be witness to? He shouldn't ignore anything, but it's a struggle, too, when he'll surely be faced with anything that comes next, decision be damned.

...Robby does look, though. Slowly as he goes about it, but still catching the older man's expression before he speaks, seeing something similar in his face as gets carried in his words. An apology that burns at his cheeks, the expectation of where it's to lead. Robby, I-- I'm so sorry, but--you're a kid, I'm married, it was never going to happen.

Except, it doesn't. Instead, Robby stares at Mister LaRusso, puzzled, baffled as to how to even begin, and yet:

"I-- no? You asked to be my dad." Why is he making it sound like this is his fault? It's so out of left field, that it makes it easier, somehow, for Robby to continue. "I-I just liked you 'cause you were nice, and-- I don't know. Does it have to make sense?"

O-okay, maybe he regrets letting himself continue. He is not getting into the details of his crush, thanks!

If he hadn't had certain experiences, it would be so much easier to see this for what it is. Just a simple one-sided crush from Robby, a boy so unused to kindness that the scraps of it he's thrown could easily lead to feelings like that. A youthful whim. Maybe still a little hard to understand for Daniel when he doesn't necessarily see himself as unattractive, but not as attractive either, certainly not to a kid decades younger than him, or when said kid knew very well just how married he is.

But the baggage makes it so much harder. No matter how old the experience is at this point, it colours everything.

Daniel's hands, lying on the table, start to fret, fingers squeezing and pull at other fingers just to have something to do. One might expect him to touch his wedding ring, to worry about that, but they don't even get near that - it's just general nervous fretting accompanying the feelings that always come up whenever he thinks back to that time, the past and present now mingling.

"No, I.. I know that feelings often don't make sense."

He tries smiling a little, wanting to reassure Robby, since - even in the middle of his own emotional turmoil - Daniel can tell this isn't easy for him. And of course it isn't-- who'd have an easy time admitting to this, especially knowing that Daniel wants to be family?

The smile is still a little uneasy though.

"But most kids your age.. They don't get crushes on people my age," Daniel says, slowly and carefully, like it's hard for him to even pick the right words here. For so many reasons. Partially because he's never put his own experience into words - ever - but also because he wants to be careful here, to not thread straight onto Robby's heart. "No matter how nice they are."

After all, mister Miyagi was always so kind to him, basically a surrogate father, but Daniel never had even the faintest hint of a feeling like the ones Robby is putting on the table right now for the man.

So..

"Usually it happens when the older person is," he pauses, visibly swallows, his gaze threatening to drop, but that's right where his Omen is still peeking out from Robby's lap over the edge of the table, so Daniel quickly looks back up at Robby's face instead.

(How can an Omen guilt you with just one stare..)

"When they are-- leading the younger person on. When they're being manipulative." God, this is so hard. "And I don't want to ever have done anything like that to you."

The little things that Mister LaRusso does--they worry Robby. For selfish reasons, about where his mind might be going, where his actions will lead him to. He's already been thrown off-guard once, but that doesn't mean this discussion won't go the path that all his fears have imagined. And really, Robby's imagined this going...nowhere. Acceptance, and Robby moving on from his feelings.

They've always had to go that way, because even when he kidded himself, kept them around, Robby knew they wouldn't be reciprocated. It was just nice, in some masochistic way, to divulge in them. To pretend.

But as Mister LaRusso speaks, the confusion stays--Robby listens, but he doesn't understand. Kids your age don't get crushes on people my age.

Robby's sure that's wrong. Not that he went out of his way to learn, and he can't remember many experiences of with other kids and the teachers at school or anything (jokes, maybe, and there was the one younger teacher all the boys like in music class), he knows that can't be true. That maybe, it doesn't go anywhere beyond a silly little crush, but--it's not unheard of. Can't be.

It's something else.

Because Robby watches Mister LaRusso, the way he can't keep his gaze, the way he speaks, and it feels like a very different conversation. Something's shifted, and this isn't about him, it's not a warning: it's a mistake that's already occurred. And now, he's the one who can't imagine what's being placed on the table. What's being defined rather clearly, and yet Robby can't see it for what it is, his imagination won't work.

It doesn't want to work.

And so he has to ask, slow as he is to do it, "...Did something happen to someone?"

His voice is soft, his eyes are on Mister LaRusso.

What he really asks is: ...Did something happen to you?

Daniel does know that Robby is good at seeing through other people's words. Through Daniel's own words too, specifically. So maybe he should have seen it coming that the boy would ask this - and yet he had been so caught up in his own explanation a moment ago that he hadn't even thought about how Robby's mind would process it, too busy thinking about plainly protecting Robby, even if it's from Daniel himself.

But when the other asks those words so softly, Daniel's gaze snaps up, looking over at him. There's something helpless in his gaze, because if there's anything he doesn't want to discuss, it's this exact subject.

Maybe he should just ignore it. Maybe he should go back to focusing on Robby's feelings so they can move on, especially since Daniel is sure that the boy isn't laying his feelings on the table here for Daniel to actually reciprocate, but instead just to be open with him. (But what if it is Daniel's fault, what if he's actually like Silver, just the way he's feared all along. What if he has to teach Robby this to make sure the boy is safe in the future too.)

But he doesn't want to talk about it. Daniel wants to get up from the table and run. It had been one thing to tell Robby about what happened with Terry Silver and Cobra Kai in general all those years ago, though that talk they had along the boardwalk feels like it was ages ago now. He's shared pieces of that with other people, even if he hasn't told anyone else as much as he's told Robby.

There had only been one missing piece he left out back there. On purpose. Because he couldn't talk about it, because even Robby shouldn't know about it.

When the man can't speak, it's instead the Omen that pipes up where it still sits perched on Robby's lap, tiny paws on top of the table. "Daniel." Its voice is as low and solemn as ever, more befitting of its larger form than the current tiny form it is in. "Tell him."

The helplessness in Daniel's eyes turns into shame when the Omen speaks up, his gaze dropping to the table itself.

He swallows.

Shame wins out.

(Duty to Robby wins out. If he's going to be his parent, then-- then he also has to be willing to talk about the tough things, instead of brushing it off. Instead of running away, instead of creating canyons between them.)

"When I talked to you about what happened with Terry Silver when I was younger, I left out one thing." Another breath in. Breath has always been Daniel's place of calm, but right now it's not doing a thing for him as he continues to speak. "I had those same feelings for him back then."

Silence is always telling, but Robby doesn't want to listen to it. Not right now, with the stronger implication it allows to form, the more dangerous ground it seems is being trod on. Something severe, personal, and revealing; something worth the reaction that Mister LaRusso gave him over what shouldn't have been that-- well, unusual. Right?

A one-sided set of emotions being set on the table, and not another's potential history being exposed in response.

The omen speaks, but Robby wishes it didn't. He wishes he could speak up himself and tell them both that Mister LaRusso doesn't have to, that he doesn't have to say another word. But his throat is dry, tight, and he isn't sure what to say at all. That maybe this was a mistake, and they never had to talk about this in the first place?

(Only--what if his feelings returned? Those ones. And they had a bond, and Mister LaRusso had to notice them, caught off-guard? And what would he think then? Wouldn't it be wrong? It was the worry he'd carried with him for so long, the reason he never got it. He needs to make sure to kill them with a confession.

But was it worth it? Worth bringing up this?)

But there's no going back once it's started. And once Mister LaRusso finally speaks, Robby gingerly looking over at him again, unsure if he should, the urge to kill the conversation isn't as strong as it was in that brief moment--not with the name shared. Terry Silver. A name that can set off alarm bells for anyone unfortunate to know the man. What he did to Mister LaRusso in the past, taunting and deceiving him.

"...Go," he mumbles to Daniel's omen, dipping his head and giving it a light nudge. Because Robby's not the one who needs him, whether he stays out or returns inside Daniel. The way Luck supports Robby from the inside, feels him there with him, if quiet. But the omen can make up its own mind on what's a good idea, if leaving Robby is, and Robby isn't going to fuss over it. There's just what's been told to him, a subject he shouldn't let hang in the air.

"He--" knew? No, not just knew. "...encouraged it?"

That's too much to ask, isn't it? But that's the pieces of what Mister LaRusso has been leaving on the table, and if Robby's to put them together--but that can't be it, can it? It's a picture Robby can't see, can't fathom. Has never been in the position of.

Cruelty over a crush.

He nods.

But Daniel doesn't say anything at first. He doesn't even know what to say here. A part of him doesn't want to say a thing, and even when another part of him tries to encourage himself to be open with Robby, with a boy he's close enough with to consider a son, that only makes deciding on what to say here harder. How much of this do you open up about to a kid?

"He knew. Without me ever having to tell him," he settles on. That's innocent enough, even if the context, the situation, wasn't. But Daniel knows this much to be true. Even if he never confessed it to Silver, he knows the man saw it in his eyes, knows from the hungry way Terry Silver always looked at him back then, still burned in his memory even now.

The touches. The praise. The encouragement. He never realised it in the moment, too caught up in it to think more of it, but now Daniel knows it was all perfectly engineered to only draw him in even further, to bend and break him.

(And it makes looking back on everything with Robby even harder. After all, didn't he do the same? Gripping Robby's shoulder, an encouraging hand on his back, praising him, all the same things.

Sure, Daniel never had that intent, not even for a moment, but-- what if he had, somehow? It's illogical as hell, but fear is stronger than any rational thought has ever been.)

"And.." Daniel pauses, swallows. The Omen uses the moment to - as long as he can get a small lift from Robby, those legs aren't long enough, okay! - climb up on the table, moving across it towards the man after Robby's encouragement. The shisa jumps off on the other side, settling in on Daniel's lap. The man's gaze drops to the Omen, but only for a moment before he tries looking over at Robby.

It feels even more important to actually look at Robby as he says it.

"I-- I get what it's like. When you feel alone, and you don't know what to do, and then.. suddenly there's an older man who offers you guidance. Who praises you. Who seems to give you everything you need at your lowest moment." It's so dumb. He never saw it before. He never stopped to think about it even for a single moment back then - maybe since he was too busy taking care of Robby and wanting to make sure the boy was alright to ever truly consider it. He never looked deeper into it, never saw the parallel. Never thought that, just like Daniel once upon a time, Robby might also-- "It's so easy to.."

.. to fall.

Even if it's not the right thing. Because, after Daniel's own experiences, it only feels like it could ever be the result of manipulation. Somehow he must have become the bad guy from his own story in Robby's story.

What did he do? He knew.

Silver, someone who terrorised Mister LaRusso when he was younger so traumatically that he could barely speak about the experience--was this because of it? Because of the implications, the unspoken interactions that can easily lie not just in Mister LaRusso's words, but his expressions--his hesitations. The difficulty that every part of this is for him to bring up, his reaction to Robby's own confession.

What did he do? he wants to ask to clear the air, even though the answer feels omnipresent between them. What do you think he did?

Robby helps the omen when it needs a bump to get onto the table. He rests his hands after on the edge of the table, fingers close to pick at and entwine at the skin, the tips. He doesn't look away from Mister LaRusso, though he wants to: his gaze feels heavy on him. If not the gaze, then his words, twisting at his own stomach, turning him queasy. It's so easy...

To be duped.

Is that what happened? Is that what all of this was? His gaze scatters, trying to decide--is that all this was? A mistake? A lie? A trick he fell into, like any other guy could fall into, and--

"That's not true." Robby can't. He cuts through his own doubting, curls his hands together and looks back at Mister LaRusso. Not wanting this feeling--young, childish, call it anything else--to be marked as sinister. Dirty. Not like this.

"You're not Silver--you can never be Silver. S-sure," his voice cracks a bit, "maybe I was just a lonely kid and you were the nicest thing to happen in my life at the start, but you never encouraged it. You didn't do anything wrong. I knew it didn't mean anything--you just made me happy. I was happy, for a long time--I'll always remember what you and Misses LaRusso did for me."

It wasn't dirty. Maybe it was wrong, anyone could say that, but it wasn't like it would've ever left his own heart: this nice feeling that washed over him whenever he spent time with Mister LaRusso, looked at him, when he thought about where his life was.

He cherished it, then set it away. He started dating Sam. Then everything happened between them and its warmth, its light--it extinguished.

But apparently, it never truly went away.

"...I just liked you too much, that's all. But then I started to realise things didn't have to be that why; that what I liked, what I wanted... being close to you, it didn't have to be anything else. I never thought, you know--I never thought we could be like that." A beat, and he looks across at Mister LaRusso. "A family."

He never thought they could be lovers, either, but what else was he meant to fantasise? When the parts that attracted him to the idea--those could be considered wrong, more than any. That he'd do anything for this man he cared about. If he was lonely, if he needed someone...

But there's limits to what he can share--there's some parts of this he needs to keep to himself.

He rubs his fingers over his knuckles, then stops. Fluttering his gaze back over to the older man.

"You didn't do anything wrong." He purses his lips. "Don't let him think you did. You made me happy."

You didn't do anything wrong.

It's always been hard to convince Daniel once he's got a certain thought in mind. It tends to circle his mind, not letting up, no one's words being able to reach him or convince him otherwise.

But there's one exception to that, right? Strangely enough, even more so than his own kids, or his own wife - it was mister Miyagi, back when he was still alive, and it's Robby now.

Daniel has never questioned why when it just was that way. The way mister Miyagi always soothed all his nerves, the way Robby's words always feel like they make hope grow in his heart. This time, too. It's not a full conviction yet, but it's the start of it, a seedling, a bit of hope - that maybe he really wasn't in the wrong here. That sometimes feelings are just a messy thing, especially when you're wrong, and everything can get all twisted up.

It's something Daniel's heart is going to have to sit with for a while, sort out - but in the meantime, he knows very much that the actual topic has gone unaddressed. Robby's feelings laid out on the table, but not responded to yet. Not in the way Robby deserves.

"You made me happy too," he manages to say. His voice sounds somewhat choked up, but after breathing in, after swallowing-- he sounds a little more normal again, though still touched. Still fond. "I also wanted to be close to you, and I also liked you a little too much. Just.. not in that way." A slight pause, and then: "You know that already, right?"

Daniel figures he doesn't have to say it more explicitly. Everything they've said, and just everything about it in general - it's clear that Daniel could never have those specific feelings for Robby, nor could he ever return them. Not with the age gap, with his marriage, with his fondness for Robby as a son.

But that doesn't make the feelings invalid. Like Robby himself said-- it didn't have to be anything else. The angle of the feelings doesn't matter as the feelings themselves. The warmth of them. The affection, even if not romantic.

"I know it might sound hard to believe, with the awful things I said when I got mad, with what happened with juvie, but.. I felt strongly for you too, Robby. Even back then. I was so happy you wanted to train with me, and that you accepted my help, and that you even wanted to be my new dojo's first student. You never thought we could be like that, like a family, but I-- to me, it already felt that way." Especially with Robby in his house. "I was just too stupid to fully realise it before I ruined it for a while."

His smile dips a little, but it's mostly into apologetic.

"You were always my kid already, Robby. I know it's not the same thing--" Because even if it might not matter, he still doesn't want to just dismiss everything Robby told him, confessed to him, treated like such an important conversation by the boy that he felt like he had to bring it up now. "But you were already important to me. Always."

You know that already, right?

Robby nods; a twitch of his lips, a bittersweet understanding. Of course he always knew, even if--well, the even ifs don't really matter anymore. He's letting go of them, now. Hoping to, at least; that this release will stick, once everything is said and done, and that his recuperation after his corruption isn't just making him push those feelings aside, only to creep back into his life later on. Like they did once before.

But he doesn't need them. An impossibility, when he already has something real, more permanent.

A future creeping now into the present, between them, that's already been there for a while. It tingles through his nerves, up his limbs and leaves Robby giddy with anticipation. Sombre around the edges, but warm in the core; even if (Mister--no) his dad continues down their bittersweet history, that sweeter taste still manages to follow after.

It swells in him, pleasantly. Shy glances taken his dad's way, the progression of their relationship now what takes centre place. Maybe the history with Silver will come up again, but right now? Robby doesn't want to help his shadow hover over them. Like it already does with his dad, as it could have threatened to keep, now.

No.

His thumbs twiddle some, as this time, he has to work himself to speak for a good reason. No hesitations over fear or shame, though taking a first step can always seem more like a leap.

But he looks over, smiles,

"I like the idea of being your kid anyway....dad."

and puts aside his anxieties, and takes the leap anyway. All the way, committed.

"I love you."

And what else can his words mean, but: You mean the world to me.

Daniel can't help but look over at Robby, looking for traces of-- well, anything in the boy's eyes. Considering his own experiences with these sorts of feelings and how it all ended up, he can't help but fuss a little like they may burn a mark onto Robby as well that Daniel will never be able to erase.

.. it seems fine though. Robby-- He looks alright. And none of the words he says sound like they aren't meant, quite the opposite. There's so much in those words that they can't help but fully touch Daniel's own heart as well, a smile on the man's face, his eyes just the faintest bit moist.

Maybe it's just since it all hits even harder with what they've recently gone through. With how long it feels like Robby's corruption lasted, even if it was relatively not that long when you consider how long they've been in Trench. When it feels like his recovery lasted even longer, despite that being much shorter.

Daniel stands up from his seat, taking a step over to where Robby is sitting.

"C'mon, bud."

He opens his arms, clearly ready to scoop the boy into a hug the moment Robby stands up. His arms wrapping around the boy-- around his son securely, relieved once more by the very solid being that's in his arms right now, returned from the brink of destruction and ruin.

"I love you too," he says, planting a kiss into Robby's hair while he continues to hold the boy close. There was a threat of him fussing a little too much to say something like that right after Robby confessed to his messy feelings, spilling over into another kind of affection entirely-- but the other's words convinced Daniel it's fine. It didn't have to be anything else. Just being close to each other.. That's enough.

Being family now-- that's just a nice bonus. A good bonus.

"You want to get that bond right away now? Are you feeling alright enough for it?"

Robby does stand, once he sees the arms open, pressing a hand on the table to keep his balance. It's not that wobbly, it just--feels weird. His feet do that sometime, but it makes it easier for him to tip himself into the hug and the wall of his dad's body, letting his head slump nicely on his shoulder. Because he wants to, and he wants to show--and he wants to know--that Mister LaRusso's okay with this, after everything that's been said. Confessed to. Admitted.

That it's okay that he's Robby's dad. That it's okay he does this, and has this.

He'll need to talk to his other dad about this later, too, but that's a conversation (and consideration) for another time. For now, Robby smiles to himself as he feels the touch to his head, raises an arm to settle it around his dad's side, hand somewhere on his back. Being greedy, taking more than he's giving, but his dad's got better hugs to give right now than him.

Which is why he's not moving away, or giving any impression that he intends to, even while he answers his dad's question.

"I've got everything in my room. I wanna take it and do it in the dojo--a lot started for us in dojos."

His voice hums with an amusement with those last words, fond from his throat. They're comforting to him, especially Miyagi-do dojos: like a place of shelter he can go to when he needs it there. One turned into a home for him, all turned into a purpose. A place that helped to offer him balance.

But he would always need to be the one to find in--in his life, and in himself.

And this seemed like a good start to getting back on that path.

( for senseisam )

Re: ( for senseisam )

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( for skilledfighter )

for my beautiful 😌

🥺

my treasure 😊

my bumble bee 😭

my honey crumble cake 🥺🥺🥺🥺

my little pumpkin patch 🥰

fool, pumpkin patches are BIG!!!!!

this is a little pumpkin patch with ONE BEAUTIFUL PUMPKIN THAT I LOVE!!

🌸🎃🌸

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