Anthony’s days had blurred into a routine that felt as though it was carved in stone. Each morning began with the same rituals: waking up, dragging himself to the bathroom, brushing his teeth, and attempting to tame the unruly mess that was his hair. He would then stumble down to the kitchen where his parents, Johnny and Daniel, sat at the table. They were still angry at him, still disappointed, and it showed in the silence that hung heavily in the air between them.

“Morning,” Anthony would mumble, barely lifting his gaze. Johnny grunted in response while Daniel continued to sip his coffee, his brow furrowing ever so slightly as he glanced at Anthony. There was no warmth in their exchanges, no casual banter or jokes exchanged over breakfast. Just the chilling reminder of the fight, the suspension, and the consequences that followed.

Breakfast was often a solitary affair; Anthony would take a piece of toast or a bowl of cereal and retreat to the far end of the table, feeling every bit the pariah in his own home. He could feel his parents’ eyes on him, assessing, judging, as if waiting for him to crack and spill everything about his life. But he had no intention of sharing, not now, not ever. He had learned the hard way that sharing his struggles only led to well-meaning but unhelpful advice, like Daniel’s mantra of “finding balance” that he was sick of hearing.

After finishing his breakfast in silence, Anthony would gather his things and reluctantly head out to school. The walk was uneventful, a silent trek alongside his older sister, Sam, who seemed to float effortlessly through life. She was everything he wasn’t: popular, smart, confident, and adored by their parents. Sam had a smile for everyone, while Anthony often felt invisible, an afterthought in the shadow of her bright, outgoing personality.

“See you later!” she called, waving at a group of her friends as they approached, her voice ringing with enthusiasm.

“Yeah, bye,” he muttered, feeling the familiar sting of isolation. As he pushed through the school gates, the cacophony of voices and laughter washed over him, a reminder that he was alone in a crowd.

The day unfolded in a blur. Classes dragged on, each one feeling like a prison sentence. The teachers droned on about subjects that felt increasingly irrelevant to him. Math, History, English—nothing seemed to hold his attention for long. He took notes, occasionally staring out the window, longing for the freedom of the outside world. His mind drifted back to Kenny, the relentless tormentor who had made his life a living hell.

He had to face it all again in detention. When the final bell rang, he felt a wave of relief wash over him—until he remembered that he still had to spend the next hour with Kenny. He trudged to the detention room, dreading the sight of him.

The room was sparsely furnished, a couple of tables pushed together, and a teacher supervising the session, eyes darting over the students as if waiting for trouble to erupt. Anthony slumped into his chair, his head resting on his hands. He could hear Kenny’s voice before he even saw him, laughter echoing down the hallway with a group of his Cobra Kai friends. The sound made Anthony’s blood boil.

“Looks like it’s party time,” Kenny said as he entered, a smirk plastered on his face. He dropped his bag onto the table with a thud and flopped into the seat across from Anthony. “Ready to get to work?”

Anthony shot him a glare but didn’t respond. Instead, he pulled out his notebook, pretending to focus on the project they had been assigned. The teacher kept a watchful eye on them, but he knew they would have plenty of opportunities to slip into their usual banter.

“Let’s see, what’s the first question?” Kenny said, flipping through the pages of the assignment. “Oh, right—favourite band.”

“Why do you care?” Anthony replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Kenny shrugged. “Just trying to get to know my partner, man. You never know when it might come in handy.”

“Like I care what you think,” Anthony shot back, crossing his arms defiantly.

“Suit yourself. But it might help if you don’t act like a total jerk the whole time,” Kenny said, unfazed. He scribbled something on the paper, clearly more interested in the project than Anthony was.

As the minutes dragged on, they exchanged terse words, forced questions that neither of them truly wanted to ask. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but Anthony refused to give Kenny the satisfaction of knowing how much he hated being stuck with him.

The atmosphere between them was tense, and Anthony could feel the frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. Every time Kenny opened his mouth, he was reminded of how much he despised him. The way he swaggered, the confidence that dripped from every word, it all grated on Anthony’s nerves.

“Okay, next question: favourite movie?” Kenny asked, looking genuinely curious.

“Why are you even asking me?” Anthony snapped. “It’s not like I’m going to tell you anything important.”

Kenny raised an eyebrow. “Because that’s how this works, genius. You’re supposed to ask questions and answer them. That’s how we get through this.”

“Fine. The Godfather,” Anthony muttered, rolling his eyes.

Kenny leaned back in his chair, a sly smile creeping across his face. “Seriously? That’s a classic. Guess you do have some taste.”

“Don’t push it, Payne,” Anthony warned, glaring at him.

They continued in this manner, going through the questions, all the while avoiding the elephant in the room: their mutual hatred. But every now and then, Anthony caught a glimpse of something in Kenny—something human, something relatable. It irritated him more than he cared to admit.

Just then, Kenny raised his hand, asking for permission to go to the bathroom. The teacher nodded, and Anthony watched him leave the room, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all.

As soon as Kenny was gone, Anthony turned his attention back to his notebook, scribbling down notes and trying to ignore the fact that he was sitting there alone. But it wasn’t long before a ping interrupted his thoughts. It was Kenny’s phone, sitting on the table where he had left it.

He hesitated for a moment, glancing around to see if anyone was watching. He couldn’t help it; curiosity got the better of him. He reached over and picked up the phone, the screen lighting up with a notification.

It was a message from Carissa.

“Can’t wait to see you tonight, babe.”

Anthony recoiled as if he had been slapped. The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He dropped the phone back onto the table, his heart racing and a wave of nausea washing over him. He had no idea why the thought of Kenny and Carissa together made him feel sick. It was like someone had twisted a knife in his gut. Why did it bother him so much?

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. This was ridiculous. Why should he care about who Kenny was dating? It shouldn’t matter to him. And yet, it did. The thought of them together—of Carissa giggling at something Kenny said, of them sharing those stupid inside jokes, of them kissing—made him feel anger and frustration that he couldn’t quite explain.

Just then, Kenny walked back into the room, and Anthony quickly turned his attention back to his notes, pretending like nothing had happened. Kenny plopped back down into his seat, completely unaware of the turmoil going on inside Anthony’s head.

“Everything good?” Kenny asked, casually scrolling through his phone.

“Yeah,” Anthony said, forcing his voice to sound indifferent. “Just working on our project.”

“Cool. Did you write anything interesting?” Kenny asked, looking over at Anthony’s notes.

“Just the usual,” Anthony replied, trying to keep his voice even.

Kenny leaned back in his chair, a smirk on his face. “You know, for a guy who claims he doesn’t care, you seem pretty invested in this.”

“I’m just trying to get a decent grade,” Anthony shot back, irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. “Not that it matters to you.”

“Relax, man. It’s just a project,” Kenny said, shrugging. “We’ll get through it.”

“Right,” Anthony muttered, returning to his notes, unwilling to give Kenny the satisfaction of seeing how much he was affected by the whole situation.

As detention dragged on, Anthony found it increasingly difficult to concentrate. Thoughts of Carissa and Kenny’s relationship kept nagging at the back of his mind. It felt like a weight on his chest, suffocating and confusing. He wanted to push it aside, to focus on anything else, but the thought kept creeping back in.

When the hour finally ended, he felt a rush of relief as the bell rang. He packed up his things quickly, eager to escape the tension of the room. As he left, he could hear Kenny’s voice behind him, but he didn’t bother to turn around.

“Hey, see you tomorrow!” Kenny called after him, but Anthony just quickened his pace, not wanting to engage.

The walk home felt longer than usual. The sun was setting, casting long shadows on the pavement as he replayed the events of the day in his mind. Everything felt off, and he couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that had settled in his stomach.

When he got home, Johnny and Daniel were in the living room, and as soon as he walked in, he could sense their disappointment hanging in the air. They barely looked up from the TV, but Anthony could sense their frustration lingering just beneath the surface. He sighed heavily, wishing he could just disappear into his room.

“Hey, kid,” Johnny said, his tone casual but his eyes betraying a hint of concern. “How was school?”

“Fine,” Anthony replied flatly, trudging past them without offering any more details.

“Everything okay?” Daniel added, glancing up from the television with a frown.

“Yeah, great,” Anthony shot back, his irritation spilling over. “Can I just go to my room?”

“Of course, but you know we’re here if you want to talk,” Daniel said, his voice steady yet tinged with concern.

Anthony waved him off and headed upstairs, the door to his room slamming shut behind him. He flung himself onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. Thoughts of Kenny and Carissa flooded his mind again, and he felt the anger rise within him.

“Why do I even care?” he muttered to himself, frustration bubbling over. “It’s none of my business.”

Yet, deep down, he knew it was more complicated than that. He hated the idea of Kenny being happy, especially with someone like Carissa. Why was that? Was it jealousy? Envy? Or something else entirely?

As he lay there, staring at the blank wall, his phone buzzed on the bedside table, pulling him from his thoughts. He reached for it, half-hoping it would be Devon with some distraction, something to take his mind off everything.

It was a message from Devon.

“Meet me at the park?”

He hesitated, fingers hovering over the screen. The thought of hanging out with Devon felt appealing, but the nagging sensation in his gut held him back. He wasn’t ready to face the world just yet.

“Maybe later,” he muttered, tossing the phone aside.

The evening dragged on, the silence in his room feeling more suffocating by the minute. He pulled out his homework, forcing himself to focus, but the words swam on the page, blurring into nonsense. Eventually, he tossed the books aside and buried his face in his hands, overwhelmed by everything.

“Why can’t I just be normal?” he whispered, frustration coursing through him. “Why can’t I just be like Sam?”

But he wasn’t Sam. He was Anthony LaRusso, the kid who felt lost in a world that seemed to move on without him.

As the night deepened, the familiar sounds of his parents’ laughter wafted up from the living room, a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside him. He hated feeling this way, hated being at odds with himself.

Eventually, exhaustion began to creep in, pulling him toward sleep. He lay back against the pillow, closing his eyes and letting the darkness envelop him. Maybe tomorrow would be different. Maybe tomorrow he would find the strength to confront his feelings, to confront Kenny and everything that was bubbling beneath the surface.

But for now, all he could do was hope for a better day ahead.

With that final thought, Anthony drifted off, the chaos of the day slowly fading into the background, leaving behind only the uncertainty of what was to come.