"Miguel, dude, it's three o'clock."

Even if Miguel could've ignored that announcement, the hand shaking his shoulder finally had him cracking open his eyes. His first, hazy instinct was to dismiss his trip to the cafe that morning as some sort of fever dream, but when Miguel rolled over on his back, he felt the outline of his cellphone from where he'd left it in his back pocket. No, it hadn't been a dream. He had called Sam. And rather than wake up to that reality, he would have preferred to go back to sleep. Preferably forever.

He shouldn't have called her. If he hadn't, he could have lived in blissful ignorance all the way until he returned home and faced the music then. He could have even explained how he was just practicing the ultimate technique of Miyagi-Do defense: No Be There.

No, that would have been the ultimate move of cowardice, more like. Telling Sam he'd only been doing what her dad had been teaching all along? Then again, was it that much of a stretch to the truth at hand?

"You wanna go get a late lunch?"

Snippets from so many memories came to the forefront of Miguel's mind, the rosy sort that he might've accompanied to a heartbreaking soundtrack if he had any control over the projector playing inside his brain. His and Sam's first date at Golf 'N Stuff. Dinner with her parents. Dancing at the junior prom. All the times they'd kissed at Miyagi-Do.

It had felt like they'd had to move the Earth itself to get back together again after breaking up. So many people had been hurt in the process. Including himself. And now….

"Miguel?"

Bereft of the energy or drive to sit up yet, not even lifting his head from the pillow, Miguel mumbled, "You can go get some if you want. I'm not hungry."

Hawk sat down on the edge of his own bed, leaning over a little to look at him closer, his brows creasing. "You feeling okay, man? Didn't mix beer and shellfish again when I was out last night, did you?"

Should he even tell Hawk? Did he want a repeat of the advice he'd gotten from his friend after his first breakup? That Sam wasn't important, that he could get any chick he wanted? But then, things were far different now than they had been in the aftermath of last year's All-Valley Tournament, weren't they?

Miguel narrowed his eyes, and his nostrils flared as he took in a deep breath. "I talked to Sam."

The furrow between Hawk's brows deepened. He blinked. "What?"

"It was earlier this morning, when you were still asleep," explained Miguel, glaring at Eli now, studying his face for the most minuscule of responses. "I unblocked her number and called her."

Hawk appeared to think on that for a couple of seconds before he flashed him a small smile. "Hey, I bet she was happy to hear from you after all this time, right? What'd she say?"

Gripping fistfuls of the blanket under his fingers, Miguel's jaw clenched. "Is that what you really think she was?" he asked, his voice hardening at the edge.

He watched Eli's grin vanish, watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. "That bad, huh?"

"She was upset, just like I knew she would be," confirmed Miguel. If nothing else, at least he'd known Sam well enough to read her emotionally, but it was cold comfort knowing that what he would do would hurt her and still doing it anyway. "I mean, I was hoping she'd understand but when she asked why I hadn't come home yet, I didn't have an answer for her."

Hawk's eyebrows were creased again, even when he followed it up with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. "Don't stress over it," he said, and for a second Miguel tensed, ready for Hawk to repeat his previous dismissal of his feelings for Sam. But then he added, "When we get back to California, you'll have an easier time explaining it all in person to her."

Miguel stared at him. "That won't matter. I'm pretty sure she and I are over now."

Saying it out loud like that made it so final. If he had been the same person he was when he and Sam had broken up the first time, he would have grabbed his phone and called her back right that second. He would've tried explaining himself better, begged her forgiveness if he had to. He would've done anything in order to win her back because he'd learned he should never accept defeat. But he wasn't the same person, he wasn't that same desperate, naive kid who had to win no matter what anymore.

That part of him had died on those school stairs. He hadn't woken up out of his coma with him in the hospital. And Miguel hadn't stopped mourning him since.

"C'mon, it couldn't have been that bad." A small smirk curled up the corner of Hawk's mouth, and as his eyes lingered on that mouth, Miguel gripped his comforter tighter. He almost would have preferred if Hawk had told him to just move on, that there were plenty of babes in Mexico or something equally insensitive to his pain. Anything but offer this support.

"I hung up on her," explained Miguel, wishing he didn't feel so numb as he said it. "Then I blocked her again."

"Oh." Hawk's smirk twisted into a grimace, and his brows shot up his forehead in surprise. "Okay, yeah, that's pretty bad. Why'd you do that?"

Miguel sighed, sinking more into his beddings. "Because I'm an idiot and I've lost control of my life."

Hawk patted his arm, giving it a little shake. "You wanna go get some junk food and pig out? Or maybe go bar hopping again?" An offer for distraction. A way for Eli to help him get his mind off being dumped.

But Miguel didn't want to do either. He didn't want to deal with any of this. He didn't want to try and untangle his feelings to determine whether he was just lonely or if he really was enjoying the intimacy Hawk had been opening up to give him. He didn't want to have some sort of bisexual awakening down near the Gulf of Mexico. He wanted to be back home, together with Sam, secure in the familiar comfort of their relationship and the straight lifestyle.

Why did he have to argue with her at the prom? Why did he bail on her when she needed him most at the All-Valley Tournament? Why didn't he just tell her why he had to go to Mexico?

"Or how about we hit the bus into Veracruz and—"

"I kinda wanna be alone for a while, to be honest," mumbled Miguel, pulling his arm away and turning over on his side to face the wall.

He could feel Hawk still sitting behind him. He could hear his breathing. Then he felt Eli's hand on his shoulder this time, where it started rubbing small circles around it, tensing the muscles under the soft touch. Miguel wanted to push the hand away, and he wanted to pull it around to envelope Hawk's entire arm around him.

How could he possibly desire that contact after the way he'd treated Sam? And not even twenty-four hours after things between them had been cut. What did it mean about him? That he really was bi? Or that he was just pathetic?

Miguel thought again back to the old Hawk, the one who gave him no shortage of bad girl advice, who couldn't understand why he couldn't get over Sam. And Miguel wondered, how long had his best friend been falling for him? When had it started? Just here, down in Mexico? Or before that?

Eli was supposed to bring you home. Demetri said that's the reason he went down there….

Are you here to try and talk me into going back home?

Hell no! I'm here to join you.

Why did Hawk have to come down here and shake everything up? If Hawk hadn't stepped off that bus in Mexico City and thrown off his plans, perhaps he would've already returned home by now.

Or he would have kept searching for his dad, his conscience reminded him. He would've kept searching until he found him, and for all he knew, he would've been roped in some shady business or been kidnapped or something. His mother had always said his father was a bad man, and he came down there to find him anyway.

Plus, he could have gone home earlier. He could have gone home at any time. Like Hawk had said, it wasn't like they were holding each other hostage. And Eli had even suggested he unblock people earlier and tell them the truth.

Miguel couldn't deny that the decision to go to Mexico had been his. The choice to leave Mexico City for Tecolutla had been his. The choice to block everyone had been his. All Hawk had done was follow him.

Okay, but why did Hawk have to shake things up between them? Why couldn't things just stay the same as they were?

With Hawk…with Sam…with Sensei Lawrence….

Miguel's nostrils flared again with a sharp breath when Hawk's hand drifted from his shoulder blades down to the middle of his back, closer and closer to where he'd had his surgery.

And there was concern in Hawk's voice when he spoke. "Miguel, you've been kinda down lately, are you sure that's—"

Miguel shot up on the bed, shoving Hawk back. "Jesus Christ, can't you take a hint and go away?!" he snapped. "Just leave me alone! Sam told me you've been ignoring Demetri, why don't you go call and bother him instead?"

Hawk withdrew his hand, a flash of hurt distorting his features; Miguel's gut clenched at the look in his eyes. But Eli recovered, his face going blank with that unreadable look it always did whenever he masked his feelings. Miguel knew that meant he'd really struck a nerve.

"Yeah, sure," Hawk muttered, standing up from the bed. And without another word, he turned his back to Miguel, grabbing his jacket and wallet on his way out of the room.

As soon as Hawk closed the door behind him, Miguel's anger dissipated. Immediate regret raced to replace it, and he called out, "Hawk, wait! I'm…."

He swallowed his words, knowing it was too late for his friend to hear him. Throwing the covers back, Miguel jumped out of bed and hurried to open the door. A quick peek out into the hallway revealed Hawk was already out of sight. He supposed he could have rushed after him, as there was a good chance he would catch Hawk at the door to the hostel if he ran, but the conflicting desires to be truly left alone but also longing for Hawk's company was ripping apart his insides, and Miguel decided he wouldn't make for good company himself anyway.

Closing the door, next he thought to shoot off an apology text. But when he walked over to the nightstand to grab his cell, he noticed Hawk had left his phone behind, still plugged on its charger.

Drawing his hand back, Miguel brought it up to dig the heel of his palm against his brow, like he could just massage out all the tension that had been accumulating there. But all it was doing was giving him a headache.

With a groan, Miguel plopped himself back on the bed, burying his face in his pillow. And after a couple of deep breaths, he screamed into it.