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The neon colors sprayed on wood were the same colors as Eli’s hair. That didn’t escape Demetri’s notice when he realized Miyagi-Do was vandalized. It’s why he walked up to the door of the dojo, peered over the fence with the black streaks stained on it, and then left without speaking to anyone. Sam and Robby could deal with the fallout.
Besides, since when did Samwell Tarly need to help rebuild a dojo when Jon Snow and Daenerys were available?
Actually, Demetri realized it was exactly what Sam would have done. He would have left Jon and Dany to defend the Seven Kingdoms while he cleaned their enemy’s messes. While he scrubbed the yellow Ford convertible until the red “Cobra Kai” bled off into his soapy hands.
The words Eli left just for him.
That’s why Demetri didn’t want to hang around. It was his fault, the entire thing, and they had to know it. It was his fault because they had to defend him in the mall cafeteria. It was his fault he couldn’t just delete that damn Yelp review. Before anyone at Miyagi-Do saw him, he wanted to hide under the covers with a comic book and forget the graffiti, the ugly curls of toilet paper, and the dusky coat of grime on floors he had sanded himself.
He yanked the covers up and squished his face into a Spiderman pillowcase after stomping into the house and avoiding his mother’s plaintive call. “Everything ok?” she asked. No. No, it wasn’t. He fisted the edges of his pillow and then groaned at the memory that followed.
“Pillow forts are so much better than blanket forts,” Eli had chided him when they had a sleepover a year ago. “They’re tougher.”
“Excuse me,” Demetri said. “Are we actually debating the strength of pillows right now? Because most home builders would argue that plaster or brick probably make more sense.”
Eli rolled his eyes and punched Demetri lightly on the arm. “No, idiot. They’re just stronger than blankets. I’m not saying you should build your dream house out of them. Besides, it’s a reference.” He stared at Demetri as if to implant the thought in his brain.
“Ohhhhhhhhhhh….” It came to him, finally. Demetri and Eli had binged the entire first three seasons of Community together just last year. They were supposed to be Abed and Troy, after all. They would grow up and go to college together, just like the characters. Build their own Pillowtowns and Blanketsburgs. Defend their castles and wear costumes. Nerd stuff.
Now things had changed. Probably for good. “Take it down or we’ll take you down,” Eli had growled.
What. The. Hell.
So much for Pillowtown.
Then Demetri got home and felt like the loser he knew he was. Felt like more of a loser for leaving his new friends behind, friends who had defended him when all he did was run. He had left Mr. LaRusso buried in broken Japanese furniture and dead koi when he could have stayed and helped.
“Mo-ommmmm….” He yelled, pulling on his sneakers. “Changed my mind. I’m headed to practice. Back later!”
He thought maybe he could catch Mr. LaRusso alone and apologize. Well, maybe not apologize, per se, but at least begrudgingly admit that he put his own pride first before the good of the realm. He could even use Sam Tarly’s excuse: “I was nothing at all, and when you’re nothing at all, there’s no more reason to be afraid.”
The sun burned orange behind palm trees when he pulled up to Miyagi-Do.
He could hear Daniel’s voice. It floated up and over the fence.
“I don’t believe you,” he protested.
Demetri moved to the peephole in the wooden door. He peered in and saw Mr. Lawrence sitting beside Mr. LaRusso. For a second he thought they were holding hands, but it was just a trick of the evening light.
“LaRusso, I didn’t do this. I would never steal a medal from some old guy. I wouldn’t do that to anyone.”
“Right, but I’m not just anyone,” Daniel muttered. He held his head in his hands and groaned.
“That’s for sure,” Johnny retorted. “You’re a pain in my ass.” He lightly punched Daniel on the arm, the same way Eli used to affectionately punch Demetri’s arm before he joined Cobra Kai.
“This whole teaching thing,” Daniel sighed. “It’s always been one step forward, and two steps back. Now we can’t even train.”
“What if I gave you the back room of my dojo? You could use it for a few days. It’s private. There’s some shit left from Zarkarian, but there’s room.”
“Oh, and I’m sure your pal Kreese would love that,” Daniel scoffed.
“I don’t give a fuck what Kreese thinks. I just want to make this right.” Johnny put his arm around Daniel then, moving in.
Like their shadow, Demetri moved closer to the door, leaning in.
“I know,” Daniel said. His shoulder brushed Johnny’s, and Johnny hand moved up into Daniel’s black hair to remove a scrap of white tissue.
Demetri shifted his weight and suddenly snapped a discarded picture frame beneath his sneaker. He held his breath.
Neither man had noticed. They didn’t even seem to care.
How these two managed to be karate geniuses was beyond Demetri’s understanding. Where was constant vigilance? Paranoia? Spider sense?
“You’d be proud of me. I made them do pushups. All hour. They have to keep it up until someone confesses.”
“Yeah?”
“I told them that bullshit wasn’t tolerated, at least not any more. Kreese looked pissed.”
Daniel laughed. “Ha. I’ll bet.”
“Speaking of that bullshit, I’ve gotta go…see some old friends. One of them’s sick.” Johnny’s fingers lightly stroked the side of Daniel’s arm.
“I’m sorry to hear that. You think they’ll be ok?”
Johnny stood up suddenly, holding out a hand to pull LaRusso up. “Not sure,” he admitted. “I hope so.”
Daniel looked awkward suddenly, which surprised Demetri the most. His hands moved nervously; he looked like he was caught in between sanding the floor and painting the fence.
“Well, thanks for stopping by, I guess,” he said, turning to grab a black trash bag. “I’ve got my work cut out for me, as you can tell.”
Johnny reached out to tug on Daniel’s navy blue t-shirt and pull him closer for a moment. “I’ll be back to help,” he promised. “Leave some mess for me.”
“Don’t I always. And tell the guys I said hi.”
“How’d you…?” Johnny shook his head and then yanked the black bag out of Daniel’s hand. “No way I’m telling them that,” Johnny said. “Even after thirty years they’re still sore about losing,” he said. As he turned to go, he reached for toilet paper that was sticking to his shoe and continued to pick up debris as he walked away.
Demetri scampered behind a tree and laid flush against the trunk. Johnny drove off, dust whirling and tires screeching in the dusk.
He had the strangest thought then, about Pillowtown. And how Sensei Lawrence and Mr. LaRusso, sitting close among reams of soft white toilet paper, had looked like they were sitting in their own childhood fort. One with neon pink spray paint and toys all littered on the floor.