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...
"You don't know me, Diaz," is where the shift in narrative had started - the astute words given in striped command, thinly veiled threat only vaguely hidden beneath them - but otherwise, in themselves, entirely factual. A true testament as to where they stood, and who they were.
Though of course Miguel had been quick to simplify that - the, "what's there to know?" given in stride before the first swung had been met. The collision colliding squarely to the open air as Robby had then dodged back and into the chain-link fence.
...
The fight had lasted no more than a handful of minutes. As they often - tended - to do. This time going uninterrupted save for their own trepidations, with Robby having had broken into startled realization, his feet having caught the edge of the empty poolside - the fall a good 13 feet or so should he have actually fallen back and into the pit.
But Miguel - to both of their astonishments - had caught him. His hand outstretched, holding Robby by the front end of his shirt - eyes having gone the round with a grave tremor of hurt and wonder.
He had looked... - scared, truth be told - as wildly broken as Robby himself, with the unexpected call to action at odds within him. The other, simply - desperately - clinging to his arm all the while. Wind neither a detriment or a friend, but a simple halting of gravity as the decision had been weighed upon.
...and it had been in Miguel's choice that Robby's heart had begun to beat once more - his hands having kept to a light tremor, his feet now squarely planted onto cement - with neither moving to strike, nor tearing apart from where they had been attached.
"You didn't let go," Robby had thusly said - sounding more marveled than anything else. Fear, there - rightfully, of course, though unmistakable in it's core role as an undertone.
To which - "no," Miguel had shook - his fist still tightly tethered to the front end of a grey hoodie. "I didn't."
...
It would have been easier to detangle that moment with a farewell parting then. Perhaps, should they have been thinking with their hearts and not their head, they would have continued the tussle - even in spite of that pause. But the two had settled down besides the fence nonetheless, a break in-between them - separating - less they had continued to reach out together, holding and clinging as if they weren't anything but rivals.
"What are you even doing here?" The question had come then, a disingenuous sigh escaping through parted lips. "The pools closed."
"I don't follow the rules," Robby had said in an over obvious tone. His hand, all the while, digging into his bag, and coming back with a packet of loose bandages. "Here," he had fumbled, "for your head."
Miguel had accepted the gift without question, daring to align their fingers for a moment more - the harshness of the cold night air igniting the flame of the open cut on his brow.
"I get scrapes," Robby had then said, catching the previous looking of Miguel's eye - "a lot," he laughed, "never cared before but Mr. LaRusso-"
"Got it," the other had sniped. Only it hadn't been done in with the usual drench of venom, instead nearly passing as an outward declaration of a laugh. "He's such a mom."
To which - "yeah, the best I've ever had," Robby had admitted.
...
They had kept to a calm silence following that particular confession. Neither of the two entirely sure of the other's company - but neither set on dispatching either. It had seemed almost wholesome - or amicable - to an absurd definition of the word. Like the aftermath of a long and taxing day.
Somewhere - just on the cusp of his mind, Robby's feet had been metaphorically kicked up - idly set on resting for the night. Though, try as he might, the question had evaded nonetheless. The - "why?" - having hung shortly. The words quite unfinished - route and destination of such readily known of course, so not completely important to conclude - but woefully expected to be asked and weighed upon.
"I - ...I don't know," had come the answer - the lack of insincerity unmistakable, "but..."
"But," Miguel had kept on, "I didn't get into karate to hurt people. That, I do know." In fact - "I did it to find balance and be badass, I -" No. "Why-?" He had looked to Robby - a quarter of the familiar hatred there, but leveled in an after wash of something much more foreboding - "why didn't you?"
"Last time," he had continued, his gaze stealing elsewhere, "that was the worst moment of my life. You caused that. I - I showed mercy, and yet-" ...just, - "why?"
Robby hadn't resorted to his familiar mask. Not then - not when Miguel had made it abundantly clear that he was not the same boy from the start of their journey. The one that had bested him on mat - the opponent who had tried to break his arm, forcing him into submission and stealing the very father he had always longed to have.
"I... - I just wanted to finish the fight," Robby had said. "Not you-" not like that... "But - it was like tunnel vision," he had explained - "I just got so angry. I barely knew where we were, and I'd take it all back if I could. I'm-..."
"I'm sorry," he had resigned - and, "if it's any consolation," - any whatsoever - "that was the worst moment of my life too."
Miguel had nodded, his looking done in filtered fashion - with every previous ounce of adrenaline now nowhere to be seen. He - beneath the light of the single street lamp - had looked every bit the boy that he actually was. Is. And Robby, likely the same... Just two boys upon the pavement - trespassing, truth be told - but neither more nor anything less.
"I'm sorry too," the whisper had come after the silence. "Just - this," Miguel had motioned in-between, "isn't exactly all your fault. I didn't make it any easier on you."
"No," Robby had agreed - chuckle soft, and unlike anything that he has ever given to him, "but I was an asshole too, so we're even there."
"I -..." Miguel had smiled, patent and sure - his curls masking the gleam of amusement that he'd normally reserve for anyone other than he, "can't argue about that."
It had seemed almost natural - the way in which Robby had moved to collide their knees. The motion a clear call of a jest - laugh congruent as Miguel had then countered it, his hand going for a light smack, instead settling onto Robby's shoulder with a renowned - "you're alright, Keene."
To which - "I am?"
"Yeah," Miguel had nodded, "why else would anyone put up with you?"
"Says you," the snort had relayed, then - because perhaps he had always suspected it as such - "I guess," in theory - "you are too."
"I am," the assurance had taken with a shaking of that very same hand - the pull drawn tightly as Robby had then broken into a chuckle. "Maybe we should-"
"Yeah," the other had stood, "can't risk you getting into trouble now."
"What about you?"
"They can't catch me."
"No," Miguel had said, "I mean - ...where will you go?"
Robby had shrugged, uncertain in his steering. The only reputable answer being to go back to Silver and possibly take advantage of the spare bedroom that's been his for the taking.
Though - "don't," Miguel had said, forcing his way back into Robby's personal bubble, "I - don't go back to Cobra Kai, Robby."
The sigh had been tremendous, heavy as it had been terrible. The slack of his shoulders awfully telling as he had then rerouted to face him dead on.
"I don't have anywhere else to go," Robby had started. "I can't_-..." just show up. "It's - you know."
Miguel had nodded for a second time then. His body firmly planted in-between him and the exit, looking like he might very well saddle Robby himself.
"I get that," he had said, "but - well... - you could always come back to mine." And - "we can talk it all out in the morning." With everyone.
"I don't-"
"Please?" Miguel had said, stepping closer into his person, "Robby..." - please?
He had stared - openly and without the subtleness of not having done so. It was - an odd request, he knew - but Robby had been capable of understanding the intent beneath it. It was Cobra Kai, he thought - always had been. It was like a poison, tarnishing Miguel into something he hadn't been - taking it's toll on himself in turn, and everyone that had ever come into contact with it. To deny him this - to return to that place, especially now, meant everything and all.
It had meant a choice. His turn to make it clear, and to keep from falling further into the pit.
"Okay," he had relented, releasing the last of his will as he had teetered himself forward, "...okay."
And if Miguel had caught him once more - then, well... What else could Robby have done but simply allow him to?
...