"I think I'm falling in love with you, Johnny Lawrence."

Yeah, okay. So Johnny wasn't the fucking loser this time. As if Daniel, looking up at him with those big Bambi eyes and holding his hands with his too-small hands and saying those words didn't make him feel things.

Ain't love a beautiful, lovely, magnificent kick in the balls.

"Oh," Johnny starts, and oh. Fair enough. Plenty of things start with oh. 'Oh, cool. Wanna sneak to the Big Cabin and get some food?' 'Oh, that's cute. Wanna fuck?' 'Oh, that's wonderful, I feel the exact same way! Let's get a house with 2.5 kids and a garden!'

That's not how things work. That can't be how things work. It's not that easy, to switch from an Encino girl to a Reseda boy like that. And it's not that difficult, Johnny's life plan. The one that's been laid out for him since he was a little boy in the country club in a little Ken-doll suit. Daniel Larusso was a roadblock, and you don't fall in love with a roadblock. It'd be like trying to fuck a traffic cone or proposing to a traffic light and praying it goes green.

"Do you not feel the same?" Daniel asked, and his big brown eyes looked almost watery in the light of the moon. He pulled away from Johnny, starting to pace, and Johnny never felt his hands quite so empty and cold. "Did I misread the signs? Oh, god, this is bad, I just--"

"Daniel," Johnny started, grabbing his arm, as if scared he'd get all flighty and run off, as if this was his only chance. And it probably was. He had no idea what he was saying. "I can't say it. But I do. Have feelings for you that aren't...absolute pity...or hatred...or disgust..." Johnny's lips quirked off at the side, unable to help but grin. "I like you. A lot...you annoying little shit."

Daniel beamed in a way Johnny had never seen from him, and, to his surprise, he wrapped his arms around Johnny's neck and leaned up into a hug. Johnny wrapped his arms around Daniel's waist, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. As if he wanted to. As if he had to.

He wondered if Daniel could feel the rushing, pounding beating of his heart through his thin pajama shirt. One time, Johnny had to read this excerpt on this guy named Doe or Goh or something--some short, creepy story about the madness of man, and one thudding heart under the wooden floorboards. Johnny imagined someone could still hear his heart, could still feel it pounding six feet in the earth.

Daniel pulled away, looking at Johnny as if he hung the moon just for not pulling away. "I guess this means we're boyfriends now, huh?"

Huh.

Johnny had never heard that phrasing before. And it terrified him like nothing else. There was 'boyfriend and girlfriend'. 'Boyfriend and girlfriend' were as commonplace as keys in the coin bowl, as the remote in the couch cushions. He and Ali were 'boyfriend and girlfriend' for a time, as was she and Daniel.

But could two guys really be boyfriends? Johnny supposed, if he was to ruminate on it, it sounded weird and short. Boyfriend and boyfriend was too stupid, boyfriends sounded fake. There was no winning.

When Johnny first started dating Ali, Bobby wanted to hear all about it. What they did, how they spoke to each other, what kissing was like. (And, honestly, their friendships had limits. This wasn't a sleepover, Brown.) With Ali...there was a lot of dates. Golf 'n' stuff, the movies, picnics, all that corny chick stuff. Really, Johnny loved it, or else he wouldn't go, but still. He supposed he could do all that with Larusso, that he wanted to. But it didn't seem plausible.

"Can we really...do that, Larusso?" Johnny asked, and he hated how soft his voice was, how his eyes stung.

"Yeah," Daniel replied, and his eyes sparkled with a sort of wise understanding then, and Johnny felt this miserable, visceral guilt from ever being born. "Yeah, we can..."

A million thoughts raced through Johnny's head. He and the Cobras passing around joints and beer, talking (yelling, mostly) over movies, Johnny eventually getting to complaining about Larusso. One of them said he had a cocksucking mouth. And, well. That was the world. That was his boys. His family. His family was like that, the last people to be there, the last people to care.

Johnny Lawrence was not going to fucking cry.

"Do you think," Johnny started. Swallowed. Wet eyes on the ground, studying Daniel's pitifully worn shoes. "Do you think Jess likes me?" he asked, his mouth a minute ahead of his brain. He wasn't entirely sure why he was asking this exactly, but he was thinking about Ali, and about how she would probably be so weirded out by the change that she wouldn't want to associate with him anymore. Even if they promised.

"Sure she does," Daniel insisted. "She thinks you're a dumbass sometimes, but that must be her highest honor, 'cause she thinks the same about me. Why do you ask?"

"'Cause, I don't," Johnny shook his head, trying his best to look confused, because his feigned confusion was the thin barrier keeping him from breaking down. "I don't think I'll have any friends, after this..."

And he had to sit down, after that, because his head was woozy and his legs were weak. And he could feel Daniel staring at him, just for a moment.

Then, there was a warm weight on his lap, and Daniel had his face cupped in his hands, and his eyes were so pretty in the soft light of the moon. And everyone else was the stupid ones, the losers, because they couldn't see how pretty he was, how worth it he was. "Johnny," he starts, and he looks so concerned, yet so comforting, it's hard to look at him. "Johnny, sweetheart..."

"Mm," Johnny hummed, feeling at once alleviated, if only for a moment, from all the pain and confusion. He wanted, needed, to speak. I hear you, I see you. I need you. Only there was this wall, around his throat or over his lips. This is temporary. He will leave, and you will have no one. You're a loser, Johnny Lawrence.

"You know, Bobby, he...he kinda already knows about me," Daniel was saying. "Not you, just me." He assured him quickly. "He said he'd try to find me a nice guy. Can you believe that?" He laughed. Johnny was strangely amused by the fact that Larusso would chatter off to anything that moved. "But I think I found the nicest guy of all of them..."

"Yeah?" Johnny breathed, and he felt horrible that it was all he could manage.

Daniel nodded. He gave him a thoughtful look, a kind, sad smile of sorts. "My dad, he, uh...passed away when I was young. But he gave me some pretty good tips. He said your mind is like a garden, and you have to pull out all the bad weeds when you get them, you can't just let them grow." Daniel made a motion beside his head, pulling up some imaginary roots. "See? And then you just..." he made a motion of gathering all the weeds, then chucking them over the cliff and to the dark, star-speckled abyss. Gone. Just like that.

"Can I?" Daniel asked, hand reaching up to the side of Johnny's head, not even touching him, while the other hand ran through his hair.

"You're a fairy," Johnny said hoarsely. Because he had to. Had to save face, even then. But he couldn't say this was stupid, not when it came from Daniel's late dad, not when he was just trying to help.

"But you can try...to take away all the bad thoughts, if you want to, Daniel..."

Daniel smiled sadly and made a motion, pulling delicately on the imaginary weeds, eyes full of concentration. Johnny would have laughed if Daniel hadn't met his eyes then, hadn't smiled wider and more genuine in a way that made his heart melt. "You have the prettiest garden I've ever seen up here, you know that, Johnny?" he asked, pressing his forehead to Johnny's.

Johnny swallowed, the tears finally, mercifully slipping down his cheeks as he closed his eyes. Daniel pulling the weeds, as cute as that metaphor was, did not help. But then Daniel's thumb felt at Johnny's bottom lip, and he was kissing him, and the pain was just starting to heal.

(If Johnny had said something, or wrote something, about a flower growing anew in the garden, Daniel would probably eat that up. Would probably go a whole round out of it too, something about how romantic it was to fuck under the stars. But for now, Johnny was just happy that Daniel was with him, their own secret a limited whisper in the dark.)

---

The next morning was a bright gray, the sheer warmth and color stone cold sobering. Johnny opened his eyes blearily, a bitter taste in his mouth. He lifted his head only to be met by the brush of hair against his face--namely, Daniel's. He'd fallen asleep on him last night, curled up like a kitten with his head on Johnny's chest. Johnny had used a rolled up blanket as a pillow, counting stars before he fell asleep. His back felt like shit, and his rustling must have woken Daniel up, because he yawned and opened his eyes.

"Morning," Daniel grinned crookedly at him, a look that made Johnny's heart skip a beat. But, strangely, it wasn't out of adoration. He felt then another story from school, one about this guy from Greek myth. He'd brought fire down to the mortals, and the gods had punished him for it by chaining him to a rock. By having an eagle swoop down from the heavens daily tear open his skin, peck out his liver and eat it in front of him. Even now, he could feel that his limbs were numb, that the morning was bright and ripe for an eagle to swoop upon him.

(And who was this eagle? Was it Daniel? Was it Kreese? Was it everyone, sucking and scooping everything from him and leaving him an empty shell?)

(His stomach wasn't empty now. But if his nausea kept up, it would be.)

Johnny managed to sit up, breathing unsteady, world blurry. Was this how it would be every day, this panic, this rediscovery? As if he weren't fully present the night previous, as if Daniel had distracted him. And he had, he had distracted him from the world for the evening. And it was a nice holiday special, but he had to get back to the real world.

He was sitting in the church pews, specially situated at the end in case he had to run and vomit. He was hungover like a blender churning some hell-smoothie in his stomach, but it was his fault that he crashed at Bobby's place the night before. Now, he was made to come to church for the first time since Sid had paraded him around at last Easter's service. The dress pants he borrowed from Bobby were too short and scratchy.

And some lady was at the front, maybe five years older than himself. Hand over her stomach and all, pushed out and round like a balloon. In her maternity dress, she looked ready for a photoshoot. Her husband was beside her, picture perfect couple. The preacher lamented:

"You see, this right here is what it's all about, ladies and gentlemen. As we are God's children, one day we shall bring forth life of our own. Love as the Lord our God loves. Love in the way he has decreed for us, and He shall bring forth eternal blessings."

Johnny wasn't paying too close attention; he was never the religious type. He thought, vaguely, that he and Ali would be like that, maybe. Probably. They were, before Daniel came around. Then, thinking about the future, thinking about love, made him think of Ali, which made him think of Daniel.

Then, he was just thinking of Daniel, the annoying little fuck. Skittish, scrawny, lanky legs. He wondered what Ali saw in him. That annoying smart mouth, making jokes in the hopes people like him. He didn't have a bad ass in jeans (Barbara had confessed to him, drunk at a party, that girls looked at that sort of thing). Not that he was looking at that sort of thing. Or thinking about it in God's holy place of hanging out.

He focused back in on the church service. He couldn't. His pants were too short and scratchy. He got up to go vomit.

He had to get back to the real world.

"Johnny, you alright?" Daniel asked as Johnny stood, not looking at him.

The pair was silent for a while, and Johnny shook his head. "Um. I have to go." He swallowed, finally meeting Daniel's eye. He didn't look upset or devastated or anything, just confused. "Look, Daniel, you're...great. This summer's been...fun. But this isn't gonna work. I gotta get back to the real world. I can't keep staying here with you and pretending everything's okay. I just...I'm sorry..." With that pathetic denouncement over with, Johnny jerked away from Daniel's touch and turned, starting quickly back into the woods to the cabin.

"Johnny," Daniel started, his brain finally catching up. Johnny couldn't see him, but he imagined his mouth was dangling open with pure shock. Mouth breather. Johnny Lawrence, bailing? Being a loser, being a coward? Who would've thought! "Hey, wait! John, listen to me!"

Johnny felt the bile in his throat, violating like the tears, violating like everything coming out of him. Taking so much, and giving something horrific back. The rigid church pews, the expectant mother. The too-short, too-scratchy dress pants. The taste of regret bitter and stinging on his tongue. The taste of chocolate in Daniel's kiss.

Daniel's voice turned hateful, spiteful. "The real pretending is what you're doing out there!"

Johnny's heart pounded as he started to run, breathing shallow and feet thudding on the earth soft with morning dew. He knew from the game of capture the flag that he could run faster than Daniel, could catch him, could run from him.

But he also knew, no matter how fast or far he was running, that Daniel was right.