The next day at school, Anthony felt like he was wading through quicksand. Every step was a slog, each moment drawn out and tedious. He could barely keep his eyes open as the morning dragged on, his mind replaying the confusing events of yesterday over and over. When the bell finally signalled the end of first period, he wearily made his way to his locker, where Devon was already waiting.

“Hey!” Devon greeted him, her eyes alight with a curiosity that almost felt mocking. “How’s the project going? You still surviving working with Kenny?”

Anthony forced a weak smile, trying to mask the unease that had been festering all morning. “Yeah, it’s… fine, I guess. Could be worse.”

Devon’s brow creased, clearly unconvinced. “Just ‘fine’? Not going to break out any poetic brilliance on us or something, are you?”

“Not a chance.” Anthony shrugged, his tone flat. “I’m just trying to get through it without killing him—or myself.”

Devon chuckled, but her amusement faded when she noticed the tension in his face. “Come on, Anthony, what’s really going on? You’ve been off since that detention. You barely seemed like yourself yesterday.”

He hesitated, feeling an urge to brush it off but equally desperate for someone to understand. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “It’s… complicated. Something happened in detention.”

“What kind of ‘something’?” Devon pressed, crossing her arms, her gaze expectant.

He leaned closer, dropping his voice. “Kenny left his phone on the table, and I saw this message from Carissa, his girlfriend. She was talking about meeting him last night. Seemed really excited.”

Devon’s expression softened into understanding. “Ah. That must’ve been… weird. But you don’t, you know, like him or anything, right?”

“I don’t know why it’s bothering me so much,” Anthony murmured, shaking his head. “It just is.”

“Maybe you’re just irritated he’s dating someone like her?” Devon suggested with a shrug. “Carissa’s, uh… not exactly known for her charm.”

“Yeah, she’s a nightmare,” Anthony muttered bitterly. “I mean, what does he even see in her? It’s ridiculous.”

Devon gave him a sideways look. “But… you don’t care about Kenny like that, right? So why should it matter who he’s with?”

“That’s the thing!” Anthony burst out, exasperation leaking into his voice. “I shouldn’t care. But I do. Every time I think about it, there’s this weird knot in my stomach.”

“Maybe it’s just hard for you not to feel possessive over someone who’s been such a thorn in your side,” Devon teased, though her smile was small. “But remember, he’s still Kenny. Don’t let him get under your skin.”

“Easier said than done,” Anthony mumbled, shooting a glance down the hall where Kenny and his Cobra Kai friends laughed loudly, oblivious to anything but themselves. “He doesn’t know when to quit.”

“Maybe try talking to him about it?” Devon suggested, tilting her head thoughtfully. “He might surprise you.”

“Talk to him?” Anthony scoffed. “That’s like asking a wolf to go vegan. It’s impossible. Besides, half the time I just want to punch him in the face.”

Devon chuckled, shaking her head in resignation. “Fair enough. Just don’t let it eat you alive, alright? You’re too good for that.”

“Thanks, Dev.” He managed a faint smile, though the frustration gnawed at him. They walked to their next class together, but Anthony’s mind was already drifting back to the hollow weight in his chest.

---

Detention that afternoon felt suffocating, the room dim and reeking of stale coffee and anxiety. Anthony sat at a table in the corner, fingers tapping anxiously against the wood as he waited for Kenny to show up.

When Kenny finally shuffled in, he looked surprisingly worn down, his usual cocky swagger absent. He slumped into the chair opposite Anthony, resting his head on the cool surface of the desk, seemingly oblivious to the world around him.

“Are you alright?” Anthony asked before he could stop himself, surprised by the dullness in Kenny’s expression.

“Just peachy,” Kenny mumbled without lifting his head.

Anthony felt an odd flicker of sympathy. “Look, if it’s about Carissa—”

“It’s not,” Kenny interrupted, barely glancing up. “Let’s just get this project over with, yeah?”

“Fine.” Anthony’s voice was clipped, a mixture of irritation and reluctant concern. They opened their books, and the silence between them felt heavy, filled with words unspoken and tensions unresolved.

After a moment, Kenny looked up, his tone lighter but still hollow. “So… is your poem going to be any good? Or are you just going to write about how rich your family is?”

Anthony shot him a glare, but something in Kenny’s voice sounded different today, less biting, almost... tired. “I’m writing about real stuff, things that matter. Not everyone has it handed to them, Kenny.”

“Oh, yeah? Because your life’s so tough.” Kenny scoffed, but the usual edge was missing.

Anthony almost shot back a retort, but the look in Kenny’s eyes stopped him short. “Maybe it’s not about having it tough,” he said slowly. “It’s about things that make sense to me.”

Kenny looked down, a shadow crossing his face. “You think I wanted this?” he murmured, barely loud enough for Anthony to hear. “You think I chose to be the way I am?”

Anthony frowned, thrown off by the vulnerability in Kenny’s tone. “What are you talking about?”

“Everyone just sees this… image,” Kenny said, sounding bitter. “The jerk, the bully. Like it’s a choice. Like I wake up every day wanting to make people hate me.”

“Sometimes it feels like that,” Anthony said softly, his voice lacking its usual bite.

“Yeah, well, maybe you don’t know everything.” Kenny met Anthony’s gaze, his eyes defiant yet strangely hollow. “I’m not just some cardboard cut-out villain, Lawrence.”

Anthony blinked, the earnestness in Kenny’s voice cutting through his anger. “What, so you’re saying you deserve sympathy now?”

“I’m saying I’ve got my own problems, alright?” Kenny’s voice hardened. “Maybe I act out because it’s the only way I know how to cope.”

A flicker of understanding softened Anthony’s expression. “Yeah? Like what?”

Kenny shifted uncomfortably, looking down. “You wouldn’t get it. Cobra Kai, the expectations... everyone thinks they know me, but they don’t.”

“So picking on me is coping?” Anthony raised an eyebrow, but his tone had lost its edge. “Doesn’t seem to be working all that well.”

Kenny sighed, the bravado slipping away entirely. “It’s not,” he admitted quietly. “But I don’t know how else to handle things.”

The air between them felt different now—an unspoken understanding, a hint of empathy breaking through years of hostility. Anthony wanted to ask more, to dig deeper, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he leaned back, folding his arms defensively.

“Whatever,” he muttered, reluctant to let his guard down. “You’re still a pain.”

“Right back at you,” Kenny replied, a faint smirk ghosting his lips. “But you’re not as much of a brat as I thought.”

“Guess we’re both stuck with our labels, huh?” Anthony said, his own mouth twitching into a reluctant grin.

The bell rang, and the moment shattered. Kenny gathered his things, the tension lifting slightly. “See you tomorrow,” he muttered, shoving his notebook into his bag.

“Yeah. See you.” As Kenny walked away, Anthony felt the knot in his stomach loosen just a bit. Maybe he wasn’t ready to forgive Kenny for everything, but perhaps there was more to him than he’d assumed.

---

The rest of the day passed in a blur, Anthony’s mind miles away. He was torn between anger and an unsettling sympathy he couldn’t shake, replaying their conversation over and over. When the final bell rang, he grabbed his bag, more than ready to escape the confusing tangle of emotions.

“There you are!” Devon greeted him outside. “I thought you’d gone AWOL or something.”

“Wish I had.” He shrugged, forcing a smile. “Had a... surprisingly deep talk with Kenny.”

“Wow. Didn’t see that coming.” Devon’s eyes widened, genuinely intrigued. “What’d he say?”

Anthony hesitated, still processing. “Just stuff about pressure and, you know, expectations.” He sighed, the complexity of it all weighing on him. “It’s… confusing.”

“Sounds like he might not be all bad,” Devon mused, half-smiling. “Even the biggest jerks have layers, right?”

“Maybe,” Anthony muttered, a bitter smile tugging at his mouth. “Not that I’m interested in peeling them back.”

They walked in silence, Anthony’s thoughts tangled in frustration and confusion. By the time he got home, he felt drained, the weight of everything pressing down on him. He trudged upstairs, hoping a few hours alone might clear his head.

But as he lay back on his bed, the events of the day replayed in his mind. His own life felt like an endless loop of confusion, frustration, and unspoken tensions. With a sigh, he pulled out his phone, scrolling through messages in a desperate attempt to find something that would finally distract him from the thoughts gnawing away at him. But even as he tried to lose himself in the endless stream of notifications, the image of Kenny’s face—vulnerable, unguarded—kept resurfacing.

Why did it matter? Why couldn’t he just let it go? Kenny was supposed to be the enemy, just a jerk who made his life miserable. Yet now, everything felt blurred, tangled in layers of resentment and something that felt dangerously close to empathy.

The last message on his screen was from Devon: "You okay? Don’t overthink it." Anthony stared at it for a moment, then tossed his phone aside, feeling the weight of the day settle into his bones. He wanted to let it all go, to just brush it off and return to the simpler days when he knew exactly who the villains were.

But somewhere, beneath the anger and frustration, a tiny part of him couldn’t stop wondering if there was a way out of this mess, a way to make sense of the chaos in his head. And as he lay there, staring at the ceiling, he knew that tomorrow would come all too soon, bringing with it more questions he wasn’t sure he wanted the answers to.

For now, he closed his eyes, hoping sleep would bring some kind of clarity—even if just for a little while.