Miguel took an unsteady step on the unsteady wood beneath his bare feet. He tried casting his arms out straight to stabilize their precarious balance, but his partner slipped near the edge. He had a second to look across from him to see Demetri's wide-eyed grimace before the board wobbled and capsized, sending the both of them splashing into the koi pond.

When Demetri stood up from the water, Chris tried encouraging him. "You did better that time, Met. Don't give up."

"Oof, that makes ten wipeouts!" Mitch chuckled to Miguel while he reached out to steady the wheel again.

Standing in the freezing water, Miguel gestured to Mitch and warned him, "Hey, laugh all you want right now, buddy, you'll get yours soon." With a grunt, he then heaved himself back on the board. Demetri did the same. After so many failed attempts, they both looked pretty pathetic, shivering and drenched to the bone.

Glancing down at his teammate beside him, Mitch said, "Bert, dude, I can't believe you're so much better at this than Miguel. You and Nate only fell in three times. What's the secret?"

"My cat-like reflexes," answered Bert, standing there cocooned in a big towel.

Noticing Hawk wasn't joining in their good-natured laughter, eyeing the way he stood stiffly with his arms crossed and uneasy expression tight across his face, Mitch asked him, "Hey, what's up with you?"

Hawk shifted on his feet. "Ate some bad fish sticks at lunch," he lied. Not too much of a stretch. His stomach still hadn't felt like it had recovered from bottoming out after he went and made a fool of himself the previous evening. He was starting to wonder if the queasiness would ever subside.

Mitch nodded. "Been there, man. You want some Pepto? I got a bottle in my bag."

"I'm good," Hawk replied, wishing Mitch would leave him alone. But when he took a second to pull himself out of his morose hole, he had to admit it was nice of Mitch to offer, even if he could live without knowing why Mitch kept a bottle of Pepto in his bag. So he added, "Thanks, though."

"Alright, do it again!" ordered Sensei Lawrence, standing on the other side of the pond with Mr. LaRusso. "We can keep you here all day if we have to."

It was probably an empty threat, if Mr. LaRusso had anything to say about it, but it made Miguel let out a long-suffering sigh regardless. He and Demetri slowly stood up straight, regaining their balance, waiting until the wheel stopped wobbling before they begun their intricate dance again.

Sensei Lawrence had had misgivings about the purpose of the wheel and what it was meant to accomplish. But when Mr. LaRusso mentioned a member of Miyagi-Do would be partnered with one from Eagle Fang and both be forced to perform the technique together, it clicked, and Sensei Lawrence jumped onboard. In fact, he seemed to enjoy watching the students fall in the pond, judging by the smirk on his face.

Miguel and Demetri moved on the wheel, doing their best to mirror each other and parrot what Mr. LaRusso had shown all of them at the start of the lesson. If he'd been on steady ground, Miguel would have had the movements down without issue. The katas he'd spent weeks now memorizing did help with the steady flow of the movements. It was the coordination that proved to be the problem.

They both pivoted around at the same time, and Demetri's foot slipped on the wet board. Miguel lurched forward to stabilize the wheel, even reaching out to try and grab one of Demetris flailing arms, but the board jerked and tilted over, sending the two back in the water.

Demetri's head sprung out of the water, hacking. "Oh God, I swallowed something solid!" he exclaimed, face contorting in revulsion. "What was that?!"

"A water bug?" suggested Chris, shrugging.

Nate offered, "Maybe a leech?"

That made Demetri shudder even worse, coughing like he'd swallowed poison. "Oh God, no!"

"Relax," Sam tried reassuring him, "it was probably just a leaf."

Mr. LaRusso clapped his hands together and stepped forward, saying, "Okay, good try, Demetri and Miguel. You two take a breather. Let's change it up."

Chris reached down with an extended hand and assisted Demetri out of the pond, delivering a few helpful and firm pats on his back to aid with his coughing fit, while Sam offered him a towel. Meanwhile, Miguel accepted Hawk's help climbing out. The two had a second to give each other an awkward stare before Miguel stepped aside and began drying himself off as soon as Bert handed him a towel, too.

"Alright, Sam, how about you step in and show them how it's done?" suggested Mr. LaRusso, gesturing to his daughter. Sam nodded, hissing with a shiver when the cold water touched her skin, but she wadded into the pond without protest. Everyone in Miyagi-Do clapped in excitement, knowing she was the master among them when it came to the wheel technique.

Sensei Lawrence scanned his students, determining which one should join Sam. "Hawk," he decided, "get up there with Miss LaRusso."

"No way am I getting my hair wet for this!" Hawk responded incredulously.

Miguel blinked in surprise while he toweled his own hair off. He heard a single, derisive laugh break out of Sam from where she stood cross-armed and waist-deep in the water by the wheel, and he watched Sensei Lawrence twist his mouth in embarrassment, made worse by the open confusion on Mr. LaRusso's face.

"Which one of you is supposed to be the girl here?" demanded Sensei Lawrence. He either missed or chose to ignore the look of aggravated disbelief Sam shot him for that remark, telling Hawk instead, "Stop being a pussy and get in the water."

Hawk spared another glance at the koi pond, meeting Sam's icy glare for a few seconds before turning his eyes back on Sensei Lawrence. With a soft scoff, he turned around and sauntered away from the group, making his way over the walkway that would lead inside the dojo. He made it a point to avoid Miguel's gaze.

Eyebrows pinched in concern, Mitch turned around like he was ready to follow him until Sensei Lawrence snapped, "Alright, while Hawk's busy being a little diva, Penis Breath, you're up!"

Mr. LaRusso's expression contorted and he shook his head. "Really? Do you have to call them names?"

"What?" retorted Sensei Lawrence. "If it really bothered him, he'd speak up."

Unzipping his jacket and handing it to Miguel, Mitch must have noticed the bemusement on his face, because he offered as an explanation, "Hawk said he ate some bad fish sticks."

"Just as good," commented Sam, her eyes narrowed. "He'd probably have capsized the wheel and dunked us on purpose."

Hawk slowed his pace once he stepped inside the house, deciding whether or not he should go ahead and take off for the day and deal with the repercussions from Sensei Lawrence later. He couldn't believe Sensei would tell him to do that, to do anything that was guaranteed to ruin his hair. Sensei was the one who inspired him to get the mohawk in the first place.

I made you what you are, not Kreese!

Hawk paused when his eyes caught a glimpse of a display case Mr. LaRusso had on one of the tables. The medal of honor. For a moment, Hawk thought he could feel the metal against his collarbone again, resting against the crescent moon tattoo inked on the skin there; now against the Grim Reaper that guarded his heart instead.

He was so acutely aware of his surroundings inside the dojo at that moment. The last time he'd been at Miyagi-Do after his heart had been ripped in half, he'd left the dojo looking far worse than even he felt. So he guessed, if nothing else, he was doing better this time around by not completely trashing it.

He'd been so stupid, saying all that to Miguel. He'd ruined everything. Why couldn't he stop destroying good things when he had them?

Hawk turned around at the sound of approaching footsteps, thrusting his hands in his pockets. He expected it to be Sensei Lawrence, there to verbally ream him for embarrassing him in front of Mr. LaRusso and the Miyagi-Dos.

But it wasn't him.

"You should've stayed and watched," said Demetri, walking up to him, a towel wrapped around his shoulders. "I mean, Sam's a champ at this, but your buddy Bebop did a total cannonball. The whole thing was a mess. I don't think even Sam's gonna be able to help him much."

"Maybe he'd do better with Chris," suggested Hawk, rolling his shoulders, not feeling up to the discussion.

Demetri pressed his mouth in a thin line for a moment. "Be honest," he said, "was you throwing a tantrum and marching off to brood because of your hair or because you didn't like the idea of being partnered with Sam?"

"It's because of the hair," Hawk answered bluntly, narrowing his eyes at being told he'd been having a tantrum. "Dude, it takes me, like, an hour to do it in the morning, you think I'm gonna ruin it over some stupid lesson?"

Besides, he wouldn't have put it past Sam to mess up the technique on purpose, sending him crashing into the koi pond out of pure spite. No way did he trust her as a partner.

"It's not a stupid lesson," argued Demetri, his own tone turning a little curt. "It's supposed to teach you about balance."

"Is that why you and Miguel couldn't balance your asses on it?" retorted Hawk.

Demetri shrugged. "I never said I was good at it, but at least I tried. Look, let's not beat around the bush, you've been irritable all day and we both know why. That's what this is really about, isn't it?"

There was Demetri, reading him like a book again. Although it couldn't have been that complicated to put two and two together, considering the amount of time they'd spent the previous night texting about what had happened.

But Hawk persisted in his stubbornness. "No, it's really about the hair," he repeated. And there was truth to that. He didn't expect Demetri to understand. Demetri never did appreciate how much his mohawk had come to mean to him.

That got Demetri to chuckle. "Okay, whatever you say. But I wish you'd give Mr. L's techniques more of a fair chance."

"Like the way you give it your all when Sensei Lawrence tells you to spar with me?" He regretted his words when Demetri's mouth hung open at hearing them. Hawk sighed irritably, rubbing at the material inside his pockets. It wasn't Demetri's fault he couldn't fight him without flinching.

Demetri said, "I don't like fighting you. Besides, we're much better as a team. I honestly wouldn't mind going all Double Dragon with you on those Cobra Kai miscreants again, if it comes down to it. So it doesn't really matter to me whether I ever learn to spar with you on Eagle Fang's level. That can be you and Miguel's thing. I prefer my easygoing katas to high-intense brawls anyway."

Hawk heard the typical sardonic humor behind Demetri's words, but it didn't ease the tension in his gut. "Listen, I'll help you get over your fears if you'll let me," he offered, taking a step toward his friend. It was a problem, they couldn't pretend it wasn't, not only for Demetri's skills as a fighter but also for what it meant for their friendship. "If you can't stop flinching against me, you'll definitely have problems fighting Cobra Kai later. We might not always be together to tag-team against them. Like at the All-Valley, you'll be on your own then.

The boy across from him shifted on his feet, looking particularly vulnerable as he stood there, clothes drenched and dripping water all over the wood floor. "I appreciate the offer, but honestly, Eli, I'd be happy just hanging out with you for now. Y'know, like normal, outside of this karate hobby."

Hawk opened his mouth. "But—"

Demetri cut him off, admitting, "I've missed you a lot. Even with this whole merging-of-the-dojos thing, it feels like you've been avoiding me. I mean, I know why. But all I'd really like right now is to have another Badlarious Movie Night with you again like we used to do. C'mon, wouldn't a night of popcorn and some good, old-fashioned bad movies help you feel better about the whole thing with Miguel right now? We don't have to talk about anything else, just the movie. You look like you could use a laugh."

It sounded so good. But it didn't feel right. It was too passive, and Hawk never wanted to go back to being passive again, like he had been all his life before Cobra Kai. It was like praising himself for not wrecking Miyagi-Do this time around, rewarding himself the Congrats On Not Being As Much Of An Asshole As You Could've Been Award.

He wanted to feel like he was actually doing something to help things between him and Demetri. But then, it wasn't about what he wanted right now, was it? It was about what Demetri was asking him to do.

So Hawk nodded, giving Demetri a small smile. "Alright. Did you ever get that copy of Battlefield Earth?"

Miguel lazily flipped through the channels. Not the most exciting way to spend the start of his weekend that Friday night, but everyone else sounded like they were busy, going by the group chat. Then again, Miguel didn't know what sort of company he could've provided, even if the others were available to hang out with. Probably not fun company. Not with everything that had been weighing on his mind the past several days.

Miguel tossed the remote beside him and sighed, digging out his cellphone and sinking more into the soft cushions of the couch.

On the surface, the rest of that week had been normal enough. He and Hawk interacted with each other as they always did, so Miguel doubted anyone else had a clue what was going on beneath that misleading calm surface. They didn't see the way neither of them could look at each other in the face for too long, they didn't catch how Hawk didn't clap him on the shoulder the way he used to. Miguel noticed these things, however. How couldn't he?

Had he been lying, both to Hawk and himself, when he promised nothing between them would change after this?

Miguel had spent so much time that week thinking - overthinking, most likely - their whole friendship, digging deep for the signs. There had to be signs, right? That was what he kept telling himself, that there were clues he'd missed because it had never crossed his mind to be on the lookout for them in the first place.

When had it started? Recently? Around the time of his accident? Before that?

Miguel stared at Hawk's name on his phone's contact list, bringing up their text history. He supposed he could send him a text and ask him all those questions. But that would mean things had changed. It would remind both of them that things were different now, no matter what either of them wanted to believe otherwise.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Miguel swallowed hard. What should he say? They needed to talk about this, right? Or should he leave it alone? But the tension was getting to be too much to bear. And neither one of them avoided a confrontation if they could help it. Neither of them was afraid of anything. Much less something like this, right?

Miguel pressed out of the text screen, going back to his contacts. He opened another chat history. He thought about calling Sam, right that moment, staring at her name on his phone. Tell her he was in agony from waiting for them to get back together together, beg her to let them starting dating for real again. That would put an end to all of this confusion for good. Because it was what he'd always wanted.

But he showed enough self-restraint to stop himself. Not only would that be embarrassingly desperate, but it also reminded him of what happened the last time he jumped into a relationship before he was finished sorting through his feelings. The circumstances were different, granted, but once he thought of Tory, Miguel removed his thumb from Sam's name on his screen. Setting his phone on the table, pushing it out of reach, he decided to concentrate on the television again.

No use. And for a fleeting moment, a jolt of anger swelled up inside Miguel. He glowered at the television, hands clenching into fists where his arms were crossed against his chest. Why did Hawk have to spring that on him? Especially with everything going on lately? Why now, of all times? Why did he have to make things awkward between them? Why did he have to make this difficult? Why wasn't what they had going on as friends enough for him? Why did he want more?

But as quickly as Miguel's frustration had stormed in, it subsided just as fast with a deep, calming exhale, softening his pinched brows and creased mouth. No, that wasn't fair, he told himself. He couldn't fault Hawk for his feelings, any more than he could be angry at himself for his own.

He almost jumped when his mom suddenly joined him on the couch, dressed in her pajamas, hair wrapped in a towel from the shower. She had a cup of tea in one hand, offering Miguel a mug with her other one as well. "Thanks," he said, relaxing, noting his drink was hot chocolate. It was warm and delicious when he sipped on it.

"What are you watching?" asked Carmen.

Miguel rolled his shoulders. "Eh, nothing really. Can't find anything good."

He didn't know who else to turn to for advice. He didn't think there were any of the guys he could reach out to and ask without them needling him and eventually figuring out who he was talking about. And this definitely didn't feel like it would be Sensei Lawrence's area of expertise. So why not ask his mother?

Taking another gulp of his hot chocolate, Miguel did just that. "Hey, Mom, can I get some advice?"

"Oh, from me? I get to be your Sensei this time?" his mother teased, getting a chuckle out of him. She made it sound like he was doing her some honor coming to her instead of Sensei Lawrence. "What's going on?"

"Have you ever had a friend who wanted to, y'know, be more than friends?"

Carmen furrowed her eyebrows. "I thought you and Sam were only taking a break?"

"We are," replied Miguel, letting the mug warm his hands. "But one my friends told me some things the other night, and I was completely caught off-guard by it. And things have been pretty awkward since. I mean, we're not avoiding each other or anything but I don't know what I should tell him."

"'Him'?" asked his mother, tilting her head.

Miguel clarified, "It's not that he's a guy that's the problem. I mean, not really." He wished he could have gone back to that evening in the park and explained himself to Hawk better. Yes, he'd been messing around with him at The Snake, but he hadn't been untruthful about experiencing the occasional guy crush.

Carmen nodded, swallowing another drink of tea. "I meant, he knew you've been questioning? He felt comfortable approaching you with this?"

Miguel paused a moment to have more hot chocolate before it could get cold, also providing him a few seconds to try and collect his thoughts. "He and I were kinda joking around and I let it out that I'm, y'know, okay with that. Or at least I thought we were joking. I mean, I like him, but it sounds like he's been like liking me for a while. I don't know what to do. I don't want this to get weird for us."

His mother was the next one to go quiet for a minute, finishing the last few sips of her drink before finding her words. "Growing up, there was this boy I had been friends with since junior high," she started. Miguel perked at the mention of his mom's personal history. "His name was Sebastian. He would walk me home, we would go to the movies with our other friends, he always treated me well. When we started our sophomore year, I discovered my feelings for him were turning deeper than those between normal friends. For a while, I kept those to myself, worried what he would say if I told him. I didn't want to risk the good thing we had. But eventually, I did confess."

"And what happened?" asked Miguel.

Carmen smiled, setting her cup down on the living room table. "He let me down gently."

Miguel cringed. That had to sting. "That stinks. It was his loss."

"Thank you," said his mother, "but in his case, it was because he was gay."

"Ah," replied Miguel, brows raising on his forehead, tapping his fingernails against the mug in his hands. "I guess that would make sense then."

"But I don't regret telling him," clarified Carmen, leaning back into the couch. "And I was glad he was able to be open with me. Yes, things were awkward there for a while afterward, but it didn't ruin what we had before. He remained a good friend, all the way until we had to leave Ecuador."

Miguel pressed his lips together in thought, letting the meaning of his mother's story sink in. "So it doesn't have to ruin things for us?" he asked. "For me and my friend?"

Carmen shook her head. "Not if you don't want it to."

Miguel beamed, relieved to hear that from someone else. "That's great. Thanks, Mom." Downing the remainder of his hot chocolate, which wasn't so hot by this point, he decided he was done having the attention on him for a while. So he casually asked, "By the way, since we're talking about this, how about you? Meet any new guys on the dating app lately?"

His mother's smile ebbed. She had that morose expression again, like she had that night she'd taken them out for ice-cream, the one she tried hiding behind false content. Miguel still didn't know what to make of that look, or what motivated it. "I've decided maybe it's best to give dating a rest for a while."