act one season one
cobra kai never dies.
'COBRA KAI'
Jasmine squinted, whispering the words near Jenny with a hopeful glance, "see, it's a thing! I told you he isn't a creep!"
Jenny sighed, dragging a sweat-loaded finger below her jaw in disgust, "and he'd expect you to train in this weather? I doubt there's any air conditioner inside."
Jasmine winced at the force to which her teeth moved along one another, her grip tightening around the pink straps of her bag. "Go get some cold water from that shop, I'll see if I can get in." She dismissed her, narrowing her eyes when Jenny's hold tensed on her purse with wary eyes.
Her ribs quivered with each beat of her heart that fully slammed against the concave of her bones. Muscles contracting in heavy motion as her previous worries eloped back to the edge of her head. Could she really ease the blame off her anxious mind, or would that have made her too hopeful? Mr. Larusso would never have to find out, she thinks.
The glass doors were fogged up, and she squinted so tightly it blinded her momentarily. Her hands enclosed around her face, leaning into the window, eyes wandering around the place; and it looked nothing short of pathetic. The mats were toppled over one another in an odd manner, boxes cramming up corners on each side of the room.
"Jasmine?"
Her forehead bumped against the glass, and she let out a remote whine as she stepped back.
Miguel's eyes widened. He rushed over to his best ability, legs cramping from last night, and his hands brushed against the reddening skin that lay atop. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you!"
Her brows contorted and she pouted at the way he quickly moved away when her eyes landed on him. She touched the place where his hands had once been, a subtle smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
"Don't worry about it! Are you feeling better?" She walked nearby. Standing closely to his side as she studied his face, "all this from last night?"
Miguel's gaze was hammered to his lap, unsure if the heat painting his face was from the concern etching her voice or the referring injuries from last night. He shrugged, "yeah, but that's okay. It'll heal quickly."
He paused, "is it okay if I ask what you're doing here?"
Jasmine nodded, observing the anguish that cloaked his demeanor. The way he flinched when he sat on the edge of the floor. Her words caught up to her, and she glared at the spot next him with a grimace.
Miguel's lips parted and he was quick to remove the blue jacket he wore to place it on the ground beside him, layering the sleeves so the rock's harsh corners would not be a bother. He watched with softened eyes as she beamed, smiling so sickeningly bright he felt his heart tug.
"Thank you!" She chanted, sitting down on the spot next to him with a brush of her dress, "the ground here is so dirty, can you believe a dude decided to open a dojo here? That's why I'm here by the way, just checking it out but it seems like a hit and run."
His back straightened, glancing at her tenuously, "the sensei here is taking a small pause, but it's really not that bad." With croaking movements, he scratched the back of his head when Jasmine's eyes never left his distressed form. Her head reeled, and her silence made his body jitter ever so slightly. He might have truly lost it to the rising warmth planting itself firmly on his face if she hadn't spoken up right after. "Wait. You train here?"
"Yeah, but I don't know for how long. Not allowed anymore," he muttered the last sentence, a raspiness catching up to his chords.
She blinked rapidly, tongue poking her cheek, "Oh that's not an issue," her voice was clear, with a confident turn of her head, "I could teach you if you want."
Miguel's brows pulled together, his lips agape. In a second of hesitancy, his body twisted so that he was nearer, and he found himself wishing he hadn't. She was so close, yet she remained in her current unfazed state, staring at him expectantly.
"You know karate? Why are you here then?" He bit his tongue, his words harsher than he'd intended. Vulnerability laced the agony embedded between his muscles, his jaw clenched and he cracked a knuckle before clearing his throat.
She scoffed, "yeah, obviously. I wouldn't come to a sensei that looked like that if it were a first time for me," her eyes roamed Miguel, looking him up and down, "no offence."
She tilted her head, and raised an eyebrow, "but the offer still stands," her lips tugged upwards, "and i'm a really good sensei."
The noise emitting from the gulp of his throat was louder than he'd expected, and he found himself in a reddened state once more. His voice got caught on the bed of his tongue, another being heard right behind where they sat.
"Oh. Hi...mi..?" Jenny's gaze wandered between the two, a plastic bag squeezed between her hands.
Jasmine stood up, following Miguel's hurried actions. She softly brushed at his jacket, that now was folded gently between her arms, before tightening her eyes at Jenny, "Miguel. His name is Miguel."
He nodded, his heartbeat so loud he thought his ears were bound to explode. Jenny's gaze was watered with concern, a low gasp fleeting her lips, "what the hell happened to you?"
"He hit a pole on his way to the dance yesterday," Jasmine's words were taut, mimicking the smile etched on her face.
He rapidly blinked.
She didn't tell her. She hadn't gossiped about what she'd seen, and how the new boy was beaten to a damaged state at the dance. Miguel felt his shoulder's drop, a sigh running from his mouth, and Jasmine's lips loosened from the tightness engulfing them when he sent her a relieved smile.
Jenny cringed, "you might not want to go around telling people that. It's embarrassing." She turned to her friend, "what? he's a no show?"
She shrugged, nodding in reference to the empty dojo, "mhm. Woke up early for nothing."
"Of course," Jenny pulled out a water bottle from the bag, handing it to Miguel with little attention, "it's hot out. Jasmine and I are heading to school, you want a ride?"
The mentioned girl grinned, clasping her hands together enthusiastically, "come on, we'll put your bike in the back." She glanced at him, before looking back at the way his gaze landed hesitantly on a bike pushed near a wall.
Miguel's hands were wet, oblivious to the cause; whether it was the cold emitting from the bottle or the sweat coating his hands. He nodded, her eyes glistening beneath beams of light, and he could not help but ponder on the way specks of green freckled them. "I'll take you up on the offer, by the way."
Her lips stretched, grasping onto his jacket tighter, "great! Meet me at the ice rink after school? At like 7?"
He mirrored her smile, getting into the car with wary movements, and wincing when the trunk was slammed harshly; the head of his bicycle peeking over. "Yeah, of course." Overconsumed with wandering thoughts, he didn't have the heart to tell her that the ice rink was almost an hour away from his home.
. . .
The buzzing chatter and close-knit group of students scampering around the halls was enough to leave Jasmine's body jittering in disgust. Her lips were pursed, attempting to focus on the consoling words Isabella pampered Aisha with. "'Isha they'll forget it soon-"
"No, they won't" Mila interjected. Her tone was clipped, hands collapsing into a fist, and Jasmine pouted at the bruise paltered on the nape of her neck. "These people have no lives and they're so hell-bent on focusing on yours, which is why something has to be done to those three anorexic piglets,"
"Bulimic."
"Whatever Jenny."
Aisha shrugged , banging her locker shut, "maybe, maybe not. All I know is that my day could not be any worse."
Jasmine scoffed. Her eyes narrowed when a loud pink dress came in sight, and Jenny held at her arms carefully, a warning glare sent her way. "What the hell do you want, Larusso?"
Suddenly the air began to grow in humidity, and Sam stepped back from the girls, drawing a mental cage before her. She felt like a prey, and the heavy gazes and slow steps they'd taken was enough to leave her hesitant. She sent a pleading gaze at Aisha and Jasmine, and if it weren't for the soft grip Jenny had on her arm, she would've pounced onto her.
"If you're going to give me the same, 'they have short memories' talk, I will seriously let them have it with you." Aisha pushed past her, knocking on her shoulders with a force Sam was sure to leave her bruised.
Isabella's gaze softened, mouthing a quick apology before following her friends down the hall.
"Did I...do something to you?"
Jasmine halted in her tracks, a deliberate turn of her head accompanying her steps. "Are you serious?"
Sam crossed her arms, slanting against the lockers carelessly despite the stiffness planted on her shoulders, "Did I do anything wrong? You've come back from God knows where and didn't even come up to say hi to me? I thought we were best friends."
"God knows where?" Jasmine's chuckle was humourless, and if it weren't for her crammed schedule that always left her in a rush, a train of harsh reminders would've fled her lips in slow fashion, "California, Sam. I come back here after 6 years, and you've already abandoned your friends for some bimbo whores who'd bend it over for a pack of cigarettes."
Sam didn't have much time to counter-back, not when Jasmine had cornered her onto a locker, or when she'd left too quick for her liking.
. . .
The breeze was glacial, striking against the blooming curves of her face. Jasmine twirled effortlessly; the blades lodged beneath her sore feet gliding like clockwork on the crackling ice. Her hands clasped Jenny's as her spins had come to a calculated finish. She felt her knees bend, the muscles of her calf straining and bulging against the sheer layer of her tights.
Jenny had left, but not before helping the girl off onto a metal railing. An icy twist shot past her swollen lips, further flushing her paling flesh.
Miguel's breath was clogged at the back of his throat, a mixture of his nerves and hoarded excitement occupying his chest. He was finally allowed back in the dojo, the dulling that had muffled his mood the whole day was elevated at the confirmation from his mother, and he cycled till he could no longer feel his legs to find himself at the ice rink. His stare was delicate, landing on her kneeling figure, before docking on the blue fabric layered on his shoulder.
His jacket.
Jasmine straightened her back with a low crack, leisurely twisting until the stress diminished. She yanked at the sleeves, covering her pink manicured nails, as she waddled with heavy steps out of the rink. A small simper gradually grows when her line-of-sight grounds itself on the boy. "Miguel!"
"Hey, you were amazing on there." Truly, he meant every word, and he would have taken pictures to show his mother if the shakiness lacing his fingers were not at exceeding levels.
She shrugged shyly, "thank you, I am a bit rusty, but I promise I am better at karate." She sat down on a bench, pushing the sleeves past her elbows as she untied the laces of her skates, shoving them off with a relieved sigh.
He cleared his throat, eyes darting down her legs before landing on a stray curl, "Yeah about that," he frowned, "I can join the dojo again, so I don't think tiring you out right now is necessary."
Jasmine paused, slipping an aching foot into her sneakers, "That's great Miguel! Why did you come all the way here to tell me that? That is unnecessary."
He followed her movements, now standing in front of a hot chocolate machine, watching as she slipped in a coin after another. In a moment of honesty, he didn't know where meeting her would lead. His rotten mind that was accompanied by a row of hormones was hoping she would still give training him a chance, but the crimson spatters that found home on her cheeks and the limping of her heels had him loosening up his gaze.
"I don't have your number," He gently grasped the paper cup from her hand, blowing atop it.
She grinned, covering the cup with the cloth of his jacket, "take my phone out of the pocket, put your number in. You could've asked Eli for it too; I am sure that he told you he and I are class partners."
His lips were pursed, nodding hastily. He didn't mention the fact that the item of clothing fit her better than he'd anticipated, or how she always stood so close to him that he felt each one of her coils brush against the skin of his neck.
He pushed his hand into the pocket timidly, quickly clutching her phone, standing in a cautious distance as he typed down the digits with delight. Jasmine bit her lip, leaning over, and silently spelling out each number. "Now you can just text me whenever, maybe one day you could teach me your own moves."
Miguel's chuckle was fused with undeniable joy, one hand pushed into the pocket of his jeans as he leaned against a wall carpeted with chipping paint. "Says the all-valley champion."
She tilted her head, perfectly plucked brows pulling together. Jasmine was too forgetful for her own good, a miniature writing pad clipped at the chains of her bag wherever she leaves; leaving scribbles and notes to give her reminders of all she might miss — including the unknown bruise left on her best friend. But she is certain without a doubt that all she's done with karate never slipped past her lips. "Are you stalking me, Diaz?"
Miguel stammered, spilling the hot drink onto his fingers with a pained sigh. "No! My sensei, he recognized you, I swear-"
Jasmine giggled, a brief chortle that echoed through his ears. She shook her head, "you need to strengthen up Miguel. It would make you so much cooler than you already are."
He paused. Miguel's day had started off plaited with ravenous humiliation, and he wished he could capture the difference with the rapid blinking of his eyes. "You really think I'm cool?"
The flustered state of the boy before her had her nibbling on the sides of her cheek, she was a pathetic attempt of a flirt, but the compliments rolled off the tip of her tongue with flowing ease. She nodded, her expression anything but subtle, "the coolest."
"Do you still think you could join us for karate then, tomorrow maybe?"
She stood with her mouth scarcely loose; the unexpected boldness left her silent for a bundle of seconds. She thought over her answer briefly, before acknowledging him with agreement. "I could do that; I'll kick your ass though."
He hoped (not).
"Yeah, you say that now but when I get bulky you'll take it all back." He teased, his tone playful and she sighed out with a sip of her beverage. Her eyebrows raised over the paper lining. She knew that the burning that pecked her face wasn't because of the heat poking from the cup, and she gulped down what she could.
She was fucked.
didi speaks !
literally been waiting to write this part for sooo long, miggy minnie arc starts NOW!
writing dialogue is the worst but i feel like it's soo necessary with building up a relationship, more than regular thought writing.
anyway, pls forgive me for being so slow. when ramadan comes i'll have a holiday and i tend to finish all my worship very steadily, so i'll probs have time to update.
excuse any mistakes, for some reason i always update in the middle of the night and so i never have time to edit.