#main verse.: miyagi fang. — ❝ i ached for warmth & peace. the universe laughed at me. ❞

[taughtdefense]

❝ I propose we raise our glasses—To everyone we’ve ever lost because of Cobra Kai. To the friends we couldn’t save, the family we couldn’t hold onto, and the parts of ourselves we’ll never get back because of what the philosophy took from us.

To the innocence we lost the moment this stopped being about karate and became a battle for survival, and our sense of selves. To the people we hurt along the way, the trust that Cobra Kai broke, and the scars that refuse to fade.

But also, to the strength we’ve found through it all. The bonds we’ve built. To the bonds we have that Cobra Kai can never destroy, and the lessons we’ve learned.

For every loss we’ve endured, we’ve gained something, too—a lesson, a memory, a reason to keep going.

Because, despite everything Cobra Kai has taken from us, it can’t take who we are or the strength we’ve found in each other.

So, here’s to what we’ve lost and to what we still have. We keep moving forward—together. ❞ — Ethan Wilson, 4x06.

[taughtdefense-a]

ETHAN, ROBBY, & THE AGONY OF NOT ACTUALLY ONE SIDED PINING.

ethan wilson, 3x05 ( miyagi-do ) // troye sivan, running shoes // christa wolf // ? // ? // ? // ? // robby keene, 3x05 ( miyagi-do )

[taughtdefense]

you glance up at robby, his voice breaking your concentration as you stretch. his words echo in your head, a reminder of how much things had changed—& how much they hadn’t. not with mr. larusso & johnny still fighting, or cobra kai still destroying souls left & right. your metaphorical one included. the dojo feels fuller, louder, alive with energy, but there’s still a part of you that’s stuck in the quiet moments, wishing you could just go back to the past before all of the drama.

“yeah, things are different now,” you say, your tone calm, masking the rising emotions beneath. you don’t look at him right away, instead focusing on the stretch, grounding yourself. “more people, more drama. same fight, though.” same shit, different day, bigger fish to fry. namely, silver.

finally, you finish your stretch & lean down to kiss the top of robby’s head, a small, affectionate gesture. you’re pretty sure demetri who is standing nearby would instantly keel over &/or start complaining if you did anything more than that. you’ll refrain from fully kissing your boyfriend & for a prolonged period… for now.

almost right on schedule, the voice makes its usual appearance, “you’re not really here for him, are you? you never were.” silver’s voice slithers into your thoughts, but you do your best to ignore it, pushing it aside. you’re not going to let it pull you out of this moment. not now. for once, the voice doesn’t expand into the hallucination. that fact is certainly a huge relief, a weight off your shoulders.

you meet robby’s eyes, giving him a small smile, hoping it’s enough to reassure him. “good thing you’re here now. we could use the extra set of hands.” you nudge him slightly with your arm, then absentmindedly begin to mess with his hair, fiddling with the strands. you smirk, & it’s your go-to little shit smirk. one he’s definitely seen before. “that means i can slack off on painting the dojo’s siding.”

what you don’t say is how much you’ve completely missed having him by your side, how much better everything feels when he’s around. when he was in cobra kai, it felt… wrong, like huge parts of you had been ripped out. you wonder if he knows, but even if he doesn’t, you’re just happy to have him here, now.

🎁 → @taughtdefense → orange show speedway / lizzy mcalphine

It feels weird being back at the Miyagi-Do dojo after everything that had happened. You taught the way of balance to Cobra Kai and sold out everything Mr. Larusso had taught you. It didn't feel entirely right for you to be there anymore, but throwing yourself a pity party and thinking about how much what you did suck wasn't going to help anyone. It was time to face the music and make up for your past mistakes. It helped that you'd already made up with most of the people there, including Ethan. He took you back despite it all.

You approach him while he's stretching. You have maybe ten more minutes left until class is supposed to start, but knowing your dad's track record and how much he and Mr. Larusso loved to fight you should be good on time.

"Last time I was here it was only a handful of us." Now they were maybe three dozen.

[taughtdefense]

I'M A CAREFUL DRIVER. /// I'M A RECKLESS DRIVER.

a study in ethan being forced to watch his loved ones turn into different people under cobra kai's influence.

@taughtpain / @taughtranquility + @recurrere / @mskwtz

[taughtdefense]

ETHAN WILSON-KEENE + MARTIAL ARTS SKILLS IN SEASON 6 OF COBRA KAI.

+ bonus gifs

[taughtdefense]

HOT, COLD, YOU'RE POLARIZING. ITS MADE OF THE SAME SIDE (I TRIED). IT'S ETHER GRAY, OR BLACK OR WHITE! BUT IT'S NO USE IF YOU WANT TO FIGHT. (BUT IT'S NO USE IF YOU WANT TO FIGHT.) /// BROKEN RECORD IN THE MORNING, BROKEN RECORD AT NIGHT. IT'S THE SAME THING I SAY. OVER & OVER & OVER & OVER &— ///

THINK ABOUT NOTHING THINK ABOUT NOTHING THINK ABOUT NOTHING

THINK ABOUT EVERYTHING!

ONCE I'M IN MY HEAD I'M DONE [THINK THERE MIGHT BE A WAY OUT THE BACK] ONCE I'M IN MY HEAD I'M DONE [THINK THERE MIGHT BE A WAY OPEN] ONCE I'M IN MY HEAD I'M DONE [THINK ABOUT THAT EXIT SO BAD] ONCE I'M IN MY HEAD I'M DONE [THINK THERE MIGHT BE A WAY OUT SOMEWHERE]

MIGHT BE A WAY OUT [OH NOW WHAT DO YOU MEAN?] [HAHA] THERE MIGHT BE A WAY OUT [OH NOW WHAT DO YOU MEAN?] [HAHA] THERE MIGHT BE A WAY OUT

[OH NOW WHAT DO YOU MEAN?] [HAHA]

THE OPTION IS GONE, ETHAN!

A study in Ethan's trauma due to his experiences with death at the hands of Terry Silver in Season 4, & the causation of the 'Silver Voice' & 'Silver Hallucination' in Season 5, & how it he torments him. /// @opponentcompel

[taughtdefense]

HOW DO THE WOODS CHANGE YOU?

THE SACRIFICE — you never thought purgatory would be so cold. not a regular, winter, dry cold. more like the coldness of freezing water down your throat. you vaguely remember that you used to have a life.. maybe friends, maybe a lover. all of it seems distant now, as if it is obscured by ice.

tagged by : @carltongrimes

tagging: @taughtpain , @mskwtz , @opponentcompel , @taughtmercy , @taughtdamage , @taughtwrath , @duquete , @familyabsconded , @lovehungered , @vipersunion & you !

[taughtdefense]

FIGHT FOREVER CANON — 6x05: WHEN THE LEEVE BREAKS (HE'S COME UNDONE)

bonus: @taughtartist's potential reaction to the first bit of dialogue said by ethan ( & it only gets worse from there in the other gifs )

[taughtdefense]

your fond smile widens into a grin at sam's words, reaching over to squeeze her hands delicately in yours, both thumbs running carefully over her knuckles. she's here, & she's smiling at you, & she loves you, & that's all that matters. she's one of the stronger grounding presences in your life.

❝ shiny things, hm? ❞ you echo, eyes full of a genuine fondness that you've seldom expressed with anyone else, a warmth that's specifically reserved for your girlfriend, your best friend, the girl who took you into her arms & helped shape you into the person you are today, along, of course, with robby. robby's influence on you CHANGING FOR THE BETTER is irrefutable. ❝ well, if anyone on this planet deserves a shiny ring, it's a hundred precent you. but i'd definitely marry you with paper rings, too, sam. ❞ ( you already have the rings for your four partners made. it's currently hidden in an area of your apartment that no one will be able to find it. ) ❝ that being said... i totally think a shiny ring might be better for for longevity's sake, at least over a paper one. ❞ you joke lightly. your thumb lightly traces her ring finger before you pull her hand up to your lips, gently kissing the back of her hand while maintaining eye contact. your heart swells with the amount of love you have for sam.

"I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings."

@taughtdefense liked for a starter

[taughtdefense]

send 💅 [nails] to paint my muse(s) nails. he's doing a shitty job :///

you quietly watch august as he carefully dips the brush into the nail polish bottle, his movements slow, deliberate—& completely ineffective. the first stroke starts out okay, but then the polish veers off course, a thick streak spilling over onto your skin. the result is even worse: uneven layers, smudges everywhere, polish pooling awkwardly at the edges of your nail.

it’s hard not to smile.

you've always appreciated his effort, but right now, his focus is endearing in a way that makes it impossible for you to feel annoyed. you know he’s trying his best, but it’s clear that precision isn’t his strong suit when it comes to nail polish. still, you don’t say anything—no teasing comment, no frustration, just patience. becoming a dad in various other lifetimes has done wonders for your patience. not to mention, this one.

you think about harper, how she’d probably shake her head at this point, maybe even take over with her tiny, confident hands perfectly done up, not a single glob or streak in sight on her nails. she’s only five, but the kid is a natural. it’s funny how someone so young can be so assured, while august, despite all his efforts, looks like he’s battling a puzzle he can’t quite solve. watching him struggle like this reminds you of her, & a small part of you wonders if maybe he could use a lesson or two from your five-year-old daughter.

as august messes up another stroke, the thought of harper showing him how it’s done almost makes you laugh. the image of her taking charge—probably with the same no-nonsense attitude she gets from tory—pops into your head, & you have to fight the urge to chuckle. you picture her, probably rolling her eyes in an overdramatic way that reminds you of yourself before snatching the brush from him, muttering something under her breath about “amateurs.” she’s all business when it comes to things like this.

but you stay quiet, letting august work through it, because your brother-figure is genuinely trying his best, & that’s what matters. his frustration is palpable, & you can feel the tension building in his shoulders, see the slight shake in his hands as he wipes off another botched attempt. you could step in, maybe even offer to finish it yourself, but you don’t. instead, you let him keep going, figuring that he’ll appreciate the space to figure it out on his own. you catch yourself halfway to raising your hand to stop him, but you let it drop—this is too entertaining to interrupt.

besides, you’ve always been patient, especially with the people you care about. august has always been there for you, even in moments when things felt impossible, when you would get stuck inside of your own head, caged yourself inside of your own apartment, & his stubbornness now, refusing to back down from something as small as a bottle of nail polish, is the same stubbornness that’s seen you through rough patches, that’s anchored you when the world seemed too much. so a few messy nails aren’t going to bother you. if anything, you find the whole thing kind of funny—& kind of sweet. the way he’s determined to get it right, even though it’s clearly not working, shows just how much he cares. it’s enough to make the smudges & streaks worth it.

you watch august fumble with the brush again, a thick glob of polish dripping dangerously close to your cuticle. you bite back a grin, eyes nearly flashing yellow in amusement, amused by the whole ordeal. there’s only so much you can take before the ridiculousness of the situation wins out.

"you know," you finally say to @familyabsconded, your tone light & playful, "if this doesn’t work out, i could always ask harper to back you up. she’s kind of a pro at this."

you can't help but smile wider, the thought of your five-year-old stepping in to show him how it's done making the moment even better.

[taughtdefense]

you’re standing in the kitchen when your phone buzzes. a simple text, just talia’s name lighting up the screen. you swipe it open, half expecting another one of her sarcastic remarks about life at cobra kai.

he confronted silver.

the words slam into you violently. the shock, the anger, the fear is immediate, & it hits harder than you expect, making your hands go cold. it takes you a second to process, your breath catching as your eyes move over the text again, & again, as if reading it enough times will make it mean something else. but it doesn’t.

you know exactly what she’s talking about. silver. your murderer. the man who’s haunted you, ripped your life apart at its seams, who you hear in your fucking head, even at this very second, & made your nights hell. he’s not just someone to you—he’s a monster, the monster who took you from him, who helped push you further away from him, who changed him, & not for the better. & now, robby—your robby—went off on his own & stood face-to-face with him.

you can almost see it. robby staring him down in the cobra kai dojo, that stupid upgraded look from what you saw on the tv screen & social media, that stupid twisted, dark, fucked up place, surrounded by those students silver manipulates just like he’s always done, always will, unless you, your friends & your senseis stop him.

you’ve confronted silver before, & look where it left you: broken, bleeding, dying in robby’s arms. dead in the ambulance, dead on the operating room table. now he’s going after him too? fear claws at your chest, mixed with something deeper, something darker—guilt & rage. because if silver ever hurt robby the way he hurt you...

you shut your eyes, your grip tightening around the phone, knuckles white. robby shouldn't be doing this. not for you. not against silver. but at the same time, you had a feeling he wouldn’t let this go. kenny. alison. tory. they’re all still in that dojo. silver terrorized the valley, tormented you, took so much from all of you. but robby probably felt it, just like you did when you confronted silver, like you do now—that pull to end this karate war once & for all.

your fingers hover over the screen, wanting to ask talia what happened next, but part of you already knows. robby’s strong, stronger than you ever give him credit for. but silver... silver plays with lives. twists them.

you lower the phone, heart pounding, mind racing. he confronted silver. & now you can’t stop wondering what that means—for robby, for you, for your friends—would silver retaliate, send his mindless soldiers after your friends?

you’re still staring at the phone when you hear the door creak open. a part of you already knows it’s @taughtpain , stepping into the apartment like nothing’s changed—like he didn’t just confront the man who killed you.

your jaw tightens, & your fingers twitch at your sides as he walks in. the sight of him coming back so casually sets something off inside you, like he didn’t just stare down the embodiment of everything you hate.

❝ what the fuck were you thinking, robert?! ❞ the words tear out of you before you can stop them, your voice sharp, almost shaking with the weight of your anger. no, not anger—fury. because how could he—how could he go in behind enemy lines like that & face him, silver, your murderer, alone?

❝ you went after him. silver. ❞ the name feels like poison on your tongue, & it only fuels the fire blazing in your chest. you can’t hold back the way your voice sharpens, cutting through the air like a blade. ❝ what, did you think i wouldn’t find out? that i wouldn’t know? ❞

the words snap out of you, venomous & raw, the intensity in your voice almost frightening. your emotional feedback loop is raging out of control, amplifying every single feeling to unbearable, overwhelming heights. wrath. fear. that unshakable, primal instinct to protect him, no matter the cost.

❝ you think going after him fixes fucking anything? did you think facing him would change what he did to me? to us? ❞ your voice cracks, but the fury remains, unrelenting, & only growing worse with each second. your hands are clenched so tightly into fists that you think you’ll break the skin of your palms. the room feels like it’s closing in, suffocating under the force of your emotions. each heartbeat slams against your chest as if your body can barely contain the sheer rage coursing through you. you’re shocked you eyes haven’t started glowing red—probably your Younger Self forced to step in to prevent your nonhuman nature from revealing itself.

how could he? you can’t stop picturing silver—his face, his twisted smile—& robby standing before him, walking right into enemy territory, again. you want to protect him, shield him from silver’s mind games, from all the darkness cobra kai represents. you’d rather die for robby for a third time than let silver go near him. but how can you when robby insists on throwing himself into the fire?

[taughtdefense]

the phone feels heavier in your hand than it should, like every ounce of its weight is pressing against the raw nerve that’s been exposed since even before you left the valley. anthony’s voice crackles on the other end, loud & sharp enough to cut through the haze in your head.

“you look like total shit,” is his greeting.

you blink at the screen, your reflection staring back at you for a moment before his words sink in. not wrong, you think grimly, brushing a hand through your hair in a feeble attempt to smooth it out.

“gee, thanks,” you mutter, the words rasping out. your throat feels dry, your voice raw from… what, exactly? screaming? crying? neither? both? “good to know i can count on you for a confidence boost, anthony.”

his response is defensive, & you can see the way he’s rolling his eyes on the other end of the facetime call. his grumpiness makes your lips twitch, almost forming a smile. almost. it doesn’t stick, & your eyes don’t shine with a spark of humor.

“it’s not jet lag,” you mutter, even though the excuse would’ve been easier to lean on. “i’m just tired.”

the corners of your mouth twitch again at the comment about sam, this time with something like frustration. “she’s out.” you respond, forcing yourself to keep your tone neutral. he is your brother-in-law, & you don’t have the mental wherewithal to deal with anthony’s typical responses. “with miguel & robby.”

you don’t say why you didn’t go. that you couldn’t bear to watch robby pretend everything’s fine, even after he told you, tory’s taking a break from us. or how miguel’s quiet, careful looks make you feel even worse, like he’s waiting for you to shatter—again—so he can pick up the pieces. or worse: the slim chance of running into tory during your outing. tory, who still has her ring on a necklace around her neck instead of on her finger. that’s all kinds of confusing.

the ache in your chest twists, sharp & unforgiving, as you think about that necklace. about how her fingers toyed with it when she said the words to you an hour ago, after you approached her about it. i just need some time, ethan.

you swallow hard, trying to focus on anthony’s rambling, but the air feels heavy. suffocating.

then you catch the flicker of movement at the corner of your vision.

your heart lurches, but you don’t turn your head immediately. you already know who’s standing there, by the small table near the tv. still, when your eyes flicker over for a split second, it’s like your stomach drops into a pit. silver is there, just as you knew he would be.

he’s standing casually, one hand resting on the back of the chair, his head tilted ever so slightly. his lips are curved into a faint, condescending smirk, the kind that makes your skin crawl. his suit is immaculate, pressed & sharp, as if he’d stepped right out of your nightmares & into this hotel room. but it’s his eyes that hit you the hardest—those cold, calculating eyes that seem to see straight through you, dissecting you piece by piece until there’s nothing left.

your pulse quickens, but you force yourself to keep your gaze on anthony through the phone screen, trying to act like nothing’s wrong. still, there’s a new tension in your shoulders that wasn’t there seconds ago, & you know anthony will notice if you’re not careful.

the hallucination moves closer, silent & predatory, until he’s standing immediately in front of you.

“you’re moping, mr. wilson,” he says, his voice low & dripping with mockery.

your jaw tightens.

“pathetic,” he continues, taking a slow, deliberate step forward. his posture is relaxed, too much so, but the gleam in his eyes is predatory. “hiding in here like a coward, while the rest of them are out there living their lives. but i suppose that’s what you’re best at, isn’t it? running? hiding? pretending? hoping someone else will pick up the pieces when you inevitably fall apart again?”

“i’m not fucking moping,” you snap aloud, too quickly, too defensively. the words are sharp, cutting through the quiet of the room like a knife.

you freeze, heat rising to your face as you realize what you’ve done. “sorry,” you mutter to anthony, your voice quieter now, trying to cover your tracks. “i wasn’t talking to you.”

silver doesn’t move. he’s still standing there, still watching you with that same smug expression, as if daring you to react.

“i just… needed some space, that’s all,” you add, your voice directed more toward the hallucination than anthony now.

silver’s smirk widens just a touch, but he says nothing more. instead, he crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back slightly as if settling in to watch.

you hate how real he feels. the weight of his presence, the sound of his voice, the way his eyes bore into yours like he’s peeling back every shard of shattered armor you have left.

but most of all, you hate how you can’t shake him.

you turn your attention back to anthony, ignoring silver’s smirk lingering at the edge of your vision. the weight of his stare presses down on you, but you force yourself to focus on the phone, on anthony’s annoyed expression.

“so,” you begin, your voice strained but steady, “what’s it like back in the valley without us? you surviving?” what you really want to ask is if he’s had any run-ins with kenny, but you don’t.

[taughtdefense]

ethan takes a slow breath, letting the noise of the dojo wash over him, but his attention stays fixed on @himbohotel. his brother-in-law is standing off to the side, hands clenched, a streak of blood beneath his nose—a souvenir from kenny's uppercut. anthony's trying to act like it's nothing, like he's unaffected by not making the top five, while ethan & his fiancés—robby, sam, miguel & tory—stand in the spotlight, their names on everyone's lips, including wade's & vanessa's, your parents-&-everyone's-karate-senseis. while listening to everyone's excited chatter, your eldritch senses picked up on the fact that anthony snuck into the dojo, so you gave him a few minutes to keep to himself before heading in after him.

but anthony's deflecting with sarcasm, bristling before ethan can even open his mouth. typical larusso move, ethan thinks, but there's no bitterness in it—only understanding. he's not a larusso by blood, but he lived with them for a year. he can pick up on that sarcasm, even without his eldritch abilities. wade, his dad, practically invented the word, & ethan perfected it.

he catches the bitter look he sends his way & steps forward, careful & calm. he recognizes that deflecting sarcasm in anthony's voice, the same prickly walls he himself has used to keep people at arm's length, exactly like when robby—his now-fiancé—had joined cobra kai. & he knows the sting of falling short in front of everyone. maybe not really in this lifetime, but others for sure. this isn't the time for big speeches, he thinks, but he's not about to leave anthony to stew in his misery & embarrassment, either.

"yeah, right," ethan says, arching a brow with just enough sarcasm to match anthony's. he twists his engagement ring on his ring finger a handful of times, the lapis lazuli band catching in the sunlight. "you're good. because 'good' means bleeding, getting clocked by kenny, & scowling at everyone who gets close." he pauses, letting the words sink in, his tone lighter but laced with understanding. he's not trying to rub it in, but he wants anthony to know he sees him, that he's not buying the tough act. he knows what that look is like.

even though his eyes flicker towards the blood on the collar of his gi, ethan says nothing. his eyes move back up towards his, & then he doesn't look away from anthony's face. he takes a step closer, his voice dropping, losing the sarcasm. "look," he starts, "i know what it feels like to lose." the school fight, for one—the battle against his brother (preston) & ex-karate rival (nolan) flashes in his mind, & he grimaces slightly, his face darkening for a split second. "to feel like everyone's waiting to see if you're going to fall apart." he glances over his shoulder, where sam, tory, miguel, & robby are accepting congratulations with warm smiles, the crowd’s praise palpable. miguel glances over at him, & he smiles at him before turning his attention back towards the younger teen. "but i'm here because you're my family now." & he means that literally, despite whatever anger he had towards ethan when he lived with the larusso's. he's literally engaged to his sister. "even if you weren't, i'd still be here, checking up on you. you don't have to be alone in this, anthony."

"but if you want me to leave, just say it, & i'm gone," he says, steady & sincere. "but i'm not here to pity you, or make fun of you. just… here, because i know what it's like to stand where you are."

ethan tilts his head, leaving the choice in anthony's hands, letting his brother-in-law know he's here, but he won't push.

[taughtdefense]

ethan wilson canon edits ( 5x05, extreme measures ).

sophie harmon ( @valleykarate ) grows increasingly concerned about ethan's emotional distance following his recent near-death experiences at the hands of terry silver. she approaches him at the miyagi-do dojo, even though it was closed down, offering a heartfelt conversation & encouraging him to open up.

however, ethan deflects her concerns, insisting he's fine, though it's clear he’s struggling beneath the surface.

[taughtdefense]

❝ i love you, eth. it's ruining my life. ❞

2x09. canon interaction. | drabble featuring @taughtranquility

moon’s big end-of-summer party has spiraled into disaster. ultimately, coming here is a bad idea—for various reasons. mostly, the tension between miyagi-do & cobra kai ruins any chance of enjoying the night. watching cobra kai students like tory & a handful of others flaunt their new confidence from kreese's teachings makes everything feel off. even though you, robby, & the others try to stick together, it’s hard to ignore the clear divide.

you keep an eye on sam & tory’s drinking game from beside robby, feeling your unease grow. sam is on her fifth or sixth shot now, her legs starting to wobble as she perches on one of the oak stools dragged out from the kitchen. every time she downs another drink, a part of you wants to step in, say something, but you know better. sam has a stubborn streak, especially when tory is involved. trying to stop her will only make things worse, & you don’t want sam to get mad at you.

tory eventually loses the game, her competitive streak flaring up as she stumbles off the stool. she mutters something under her breath about sam being a spoiled brat, but it’s too low for anyone else to hear. tory storms off to clean herself up, her crew—scarlett, paze, nova, stef, allison, rowan & cosima—quickly following behind her. you notice cosima hesitate for a moment, glancing back at robby before disappearing into the house, but you don’t press robby for more details despite your curiosity. you’d seen the tenseness between hawk & demetri, too, & that concerned you.

the whole night feels like a disaster waiting to happen. you have no desire to be caught in the middle of it.

after making sure sam isn’t drinking anything else for the moment, you slip outside for some air. while the others continue partying inside, you find yourself in the backyard, trying to take a breather. the yard is a mess—solo cups & beer cans litter the grass, plates of half-eaten food abandoned on the patio. the sticky late-august air clings to your skin, making you feel like you’re drowning in humidity.

you barely glance at your phone when it buzzes in your pocket. the night is supposed to be fun, but it feels more like a battlefield. you don’t even need to turn around when you hear the familiar footsteps behind you.

"eth."

miguel’s voice is quiet but sharp, cutting through the night. you sigh, already knowing where this is going. the tension between you has been building for a while now—ever since kreese started filling miguel’s head with all of that "no mercy" shit.

you turn to face him, your heart sinking at the sight of the tightness in his jaw, the frustration in his eyes. "miguel."

he takes a step closer, his hands shoved into his pockets. "what are you doing out here? the party’s inside."

you shrug, adjusting your green earplugs. "needed some air. it’s a lot in there. loud, too."

"yeah, well, it’s a party, & our dojos are enemies," he says, his tone dismissive. "what’d you expect?"

you narrow your eyes, watching the way his shoulders are tense, like he’s holding back. miguel wasn’t like this before—not with you. but ever since cobra kai & that sensei kreese came into the picture, something has changed. he isn’t just your best friend anymore; he’s something harder, colder. you don’t like it, who he’s become. you miss your best friend.

"look, i don’t want to do this," you say, running a hand through your hair. "i know things are different now, but we’re still friends, miguel."

his jaw tightens, & he looks away, scoffing. "friends? you’re fully committed to miyagi-do now. we’re not on the same side anymore."

the words sting more than you expect. "i didn’t choose this. you did."

miguel’s eyes snap back to yours, his frustration evident. "yeah, well, maybe i made the right choice. robby sure as hell didn’t."

hearing him bring up robby makes your blood boil. you have no idea what he’s talking about—robby hasn’t made any wrong choices, especially not when it comes to sticking with miyagi-do. "what the hell’s that supposed to mean?"

miguel’s jaw clenches, his voice sharp. "it means he’s gonna get himself hurt again. he’s too soft, eth. all that balance & peace crap—it won’t save him when someone knocks him down, & you know it. he’s setting himself up to fail, just like johnny did."

you feel the heat rising in your chest, your frustration spiking. "robby’s not weak." your voice is firm, even though your chest tightens. "he’s been through more than you could even imagine. you don’t know him like i do. all you see with him is your hatred, whatever tensions are between you two & johnny, & then you two & sam." & me.

miguel scoffs again, rolling his eyes. "oh, right. because he’s all about peace & balance, right? that’s not gonna help him when he gets knocked down again."

you feel your temper rising, but you force yourself to stay calm. "robby doesn’t deserve to be your enemy, miguel. you just can’t see that because you’re too wrapped up in all this 'no mercy' crap your new weird fucking sensei has been funneling to you."

miguel’s eyes darken, his fists clenching at his sides. "don’t act like you’re better than me or cobra kai just because you’re with miyagi-do. zealotry isn't a good look on anyone, but especially not you, eth. robby’s not some saint."

"& you are? you say that i'm a zealot because of my allegiance to miyagi-do, but have you looked in a mirror recently? pot, meet fucking kettle." you fire back, tone cold. "at least we chose something that doesn’t turn kids into fucking monsters who don’t give a shit about who they hurt. as long as they get what they want out of it, & damn the rest of us, right?" you snap, stepping closer. "he chose something better, something that’s not about hurting people to assert a twisted sense of violent dominance. or did your new mentality make you somehow magically forget what you did to him in the all valley?"

miguel’s breath hitches, his expression shifting. you see something break in his eyes—a crack in the anger he's been holding onto. his voice lowers, softer now, almost trembling. "you think i don’t know that?" he shakes his head, as if trying to shake off the weight. "i... i know. it’s just..." his gaze drops to the ground, & then he looks at you with a raw intensity. "i can’t stop thinking about you. i love you, eth. it’s ruining my life."

you freeze entirely, your heart & stomach lurching violently for entirely different reasons. the air is stolen from your lungs.

what the fuck. ...what the fuck?

before you can process anything he says, miguel steps closer, his hands trembling slightly as he reaches for you. his fingers wrap gently around your wrist, the touch soft but deliberate. "eth..."

& then, with a quiet breath, he leans in. his lips brush against yours, tentative & slow, like he’s unsure, like he’s asking for permission without saying a word.

it’s soft—softer than you ever thought miguel could be. for a moment, you stand frozen, caught in the gentle pressure of the kiss. it doesn’t feel desperate or intense, but it catches you off guard all the same.

as your eyes flutter shut, your mind immediately conjures an image of someone else—robby. it’s not miguel’s, but robby’s lips you imagine instead, the way you’ve thought about kissing him so many times. robby’s hands, robby’s warmth. everything about this moment feels wrong because the person kissing you isn’t him.

as quickly as the kiss starts, you pull away, your heart pounding. your breath catches in your throat, but all you can think about is the guilt swirling inside you. "miguel, i—"

he steps back, just as shocked as you, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. "eth—"

but you shake your head, the words finally catching up to you. "i can’t. i’m sorry. i don’t feel that way."

the words hang heavy in the thick night air. miguel’s face falls, a flash of pain crossing his features before he masks it, his expression hardening once more.

"right," he mutters, his voice sharp, & it almost makes you wince. "of course. robby."

you don’t deny it. how could you? robby is the one of the only people in this world who has been there through everything, the one who stands by your side, who believes in you when others don’t. he makes you better, believes you can be more than the monster your Creators have always wanted you to be.

"yeah," you whisper, your voice barely audible. "robby."

miguel takes another step back, his expression unreadable now as he closes himself off from you, which hurts. the tension between you feels unbearable, like a weight pressing down on your chest. without another word, he turns & walks away, back towards the house, leaving you standing there, the sound of the party faint in the distance.

you inhale shakily, then let out the breath, smoothing down your flannel with slightly trembling hands. your thoughts are spinning almost as quickly as your heart is currently racing. you need to talk to robby.

[taughtdefense]

ethan remains perched on top of the sparring deck at miyagi-do, his legs bent at the knees as he sort of squats on the edge of the deck next to a potted bonsai plant, simply enjoying the sunshine on his face. the sound of the koi pond’s water rushing is relaxing. miyagi-do is his home away from home. he’s wearing his orange earplugs today, & he feels all sorts of content. when he senses miguel enter the dojo’s backyard from the sliding doors, rather than sees him. he cracks one of his eyes open & moves to properly sit down on the deck, being incredibly mindful of his still-healing injury on his torso because of silver’s attack. he… doesn’t like talking about it. not with any of his friends, or even his parents, or robby, because he doesn’t want them to worry.

ethan’s mouth pulls up into a little grin when miguel laughs at his joke. he’s relieved he & robby are on speaking terms & on their way to becoming friends—it certainly makes ethan feel less tense. the tips of ethan’s ears warm at the mention of robby—a very typical thing these days. can one blame him? there are some days where he honestly can’t believe it: robby’s finally his boyfriend, after all of the bullshit that happened between them, because of everything—karate feuding & betrayals & moratoriums. there are still plenty of problems with the valley, & ethan’s newest traumas are still very fresh in his mind, but... well, he's taking it one day at a time.

good luck with getting rid of your trauma, ethan. we can both see how long it takes for you snap. the silver voice suddenly murmurs.

panic grips ethan's whole body for a second. he takes a deep, shaky breath, forcing himself to keep eye contact with miguel so the other doesn't pick up on the fact that something's wrong. he's quick to push those thoughts out of his head... for now. if i don't think about that now, i won't spiral in front of miguel. he doesn't respond to the silver voice, but instead forces himself to perk up at the question while trying his damndest to push the silver voice back into the recesses of his mind. his fingers shake for a split second, & his internal spiral is only stopped by the fact that he gets to openly talk about his boyfriend.

❝ oh, not too long. ❞ ethan answers quietly, placing his hands in his lap, trying to will his pinkening ears away by sheer force of willpower alone. it doesn't work as well as he'd hoped, but he definitely thinks he deserves points for trying, maybe miguel doesn't notice... ❝ it’s only been two weeks. it was after terry silver... ❞ he takes a deep breath, ❝ well... ❞ a hand motions to the scar above his abs, his face momentarily twisting in discomfort. quickly & unwilling to dwell on painful, traumatic memories, he tries to switch topics.

❝ uh, so... johnny actually told me that mr. larusso put the idea in his head to make you two fight out your differences at your apartment complex. ❞ ethan had been pretty surprised hearing that fact after it had already been done—that's a very, very different approach from his sensei's normal style. ❝ he basically barred me from being with robby that day. i was pretty pissed off with him. i-i think he thinks i would have... stepped in. ❞ he would have. it wouldn't have been to hurt miguel, though. it would have been to physically defend robby, or yell at johnny for the absolutely stupid goddamned idea of having them fight, after everything that happened at the school, given the fallout from that. again, ethan would have. he'd have done that in a heartbeat.