Miguel's head felt light from the moment he stepped into his apartment. He gave a brief nod at his Ya-Ya from where she was making tea in the kitchen, but otherwise his limbs acted on muscle memory all the way to his bedroom. And when he closed the door behind him, the weight of everything that had just gone down in the parking lot hit him hard.
They were really doing this.
Raising his fingertips to his lips, Miguel remembered how stifling it had been in the car when he pulled Hawk back into that feverous kiss. The experience had left him breathless.
"Jesus," he muttered to himself, raising his hand from his mouth to run through his hair once. His cheeks were still warm, and it felt like his heart was pounding in his throat. When was the last time that happened, he wondered? After his date at Golf n' Stuff?
Miguel walked over to his desk and retrieved his laptop, fingers flying to unlock the screen. His unfinished project greeted him: that image of him and Sam, their broken heart mended by the octopus.
They looked so happy.
His rapid heartbeat slowed at that memory, and Miguel sunk on his bed.
Why should he feel guilty about this? He shouldn't. He'd tried over and over to get Sam to talk about what happened, and she'd blocked him every step of the way. Why shouldn't he give this a shot?
He closed his eyes and remembered again; how his fingers tingled while flying out to stop Hawk from retreating.
His phone vibrated from his pocket. Pulling it out, Miguel read the text from Hawk: so how are we gonna do this?
Good question. Where did they go from here?
Miguel texted back: let's just go with the flow, see where we end up.
What was the next step? Coming out? Tell his mom and grandma? His friends?
His Sensei?
Miguel didn't like the thought of keeping this a secret. Not after everything that had happened with Sam. Carrying that around would wreck him. Hawk probably wouldn't appreciate it, either.
Would Hawk's parents be cool with it?
Miguel groaned, trying to rub from the stress from the nape of his neck. His stomach was heavy again. It was like someone had dumped a dozen cement blocks in front of him and told him to chop through them all in one hit. Could he do it?
He shot another text: hey so are your parents gonna care that I'm…y'know?
Hawk replied: what? catholic? nah as long as we raise the kids jewish my parents won't care.
A breathy laugh escaped Miguel, curling his mouth into a smile. He appreciated the attempt at levity, even if it didn't do much to relax the pull in his stomach.
He was Cobra Kai, he reminded himself. No holding back. Strike hard.
Looking at the computer in his lap, Miguel glanced wistfully at his project one last time, then sighed and shut the lid.