𝑩𝑨𝑫  𝑯𝑨𝑩𝑰𝑻 .  ¨. ☄︎ ͎۪۫
𝟎𝟎𝟒.   the art of pretending
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𓆩 ♡ 𓆪

𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝐀 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄, her mother told her that a cup of coffee could cure any illness.

By her thirteenth birthday, Vienna started to believe her.

That magical potion had been Vi's companion during the harshest of times. Sleepless nights studying for a test, the witching hours she had spent in the hospital by Charlotte's side, those days on which insomnia decided to make her too anxious to lay in bed but too tired to keep going without an extra dose of caffeine. There was nothing like the warm sensation that engulfed her body with just the first sip and, although Vi wasn't one to indulge in... well, anything, she sometimes allowed herself to have that little treat: brown substance turned into a holy grail, ephemeral gasoline for both soul and body.

As she poured some of the liquid in her designated mug—one that Charlotte had chosen for her, even though Vienna deeply disliked its pinkish color—her mind went through all the things she was supposed to do that day. When her heart started to beat a little faster, she took a generous sip, trying to drown the voices that were clouding her head. The coffee burned her tongue, tickling her insides as it went down her throat, and yet she didn't mind it.

The day hadn't even started, but Vienna already felt like she would need at least two cups of that remedy if she wanted to come out unharmed.

Just then, when she was about to take an even bigger sip, a voice cut through the silence, letting her know that she wasn't the only one awake.

"Sweetheart... it's five in the morning."

Her mother's tone didn't startle her; it had always been soft—one of those velvety sounds that would never scare a soul—, and this time was no different. Although the kitchen was dark, with nothing but the tiny light of the cooking vent turned on, Verona Hoffman's mere presence brought a calming sensation to her body.

A tight smile lined her lips as she whispered, "Couldn't sleep."

She wasn't lying.

That night, each thought had felt like an intangible rock under her pillow, a constant reminder of the fact that she was supposed to go to Miguel Diaz's apartment that evening—not to mention that she also had to take Charlotte to her first therapy session, walk to Cobra Kai after that, revise her notes and somehow manage to repeat it all again the next day...

Air got painfully stuck in her lungs, oxygen turned into poison. Her grip on the mug's handle became so rigid, so unnatural, that her fingers started to cramp around it, but then a pair of loving hands cupped hers around the mug, and her mental rambling was instantly cut short.

"I know damn well that I can't tell you what to do," the woman gave a light and comforting squeeze to Vienna's wrists; amusement twinkling in her faint smile, a light trace of worry lingering next to it, "but you're young, you go to school, and you're smart enough to know that you should get some rest before—"

"You should be in bed, too."

Slowly, as if the words had struck her in the stomach, Verona let go of her daughter's hands.

A tired sigh left her lips. Her shoulders sagged, her grin faded away, and those sharp stress lines Vienna had become familiar with took over every inch of her face. The slight tinge of concern that had been darkening her eyes ever since her husband ran away burned brighter as she silently rested her back against the kitchen counter.

For a woman who had given birth to her first child as a teenager, Vienna couldn't help but think that her mother looked terrifyingly old at that moment.

Old and tired, and all of those things life did to people who fought too much and still received nothing but leftovers.

"I haven't asked you about school."

Confusion washed over her features as she put the mug down, "Mom—"

"I haven't asked you how you've been." Verona's voice broke down on the last word. She took a deep and shaky breath, "We've moved to a different town, for goodness sake... and I don't even know what's keeping you awake right now."

Vi's heart clenched painfully at the sight. Her lips, however, remained sealed.

She wondered how her mom had truly been since they moved to The Valley. Did she like her new job? Did her boss treat her well? Did she feel alone?

The opportunity to ask her those questions simply hadn't presented itself, for Verona's work kept her busy from noon to midnight. Sharing empty 'good nights' or a quick 'hello' before going separate ways had been their normal for many years, even back in their hometown, but Vienna had always thought that that was just how life was: unfair, cruel, and draining. Still, and even with that knowledge, her mother's words hit her like a truck.

They had barely talked in the past couple of months—hell, they hadn't really done so ever since Charlie's accident.

Vienna hadn't noticed how badly she missed her mother until that moment.

Seconds passed in blurry fragments until the woman finally lifted her gaze from the floor. With a sad smile plastered on her face, she took one of the wavy strands that had fallen from Vienna's messy ponytail, putting it behind her ear.

"I never understood why you liked sweet coffee so much." Her eyes traveled to the forgotten mug; nostalgia breaking through her mask once she turned her attention back to her daughter. "You've always been so serious, so mature... and yet you still put two teaspoons full of sugar in your coffee."

There it was.

The gut-wrenching reminder that she was expected to behave like an adult—that people like her couldn't delight in the sweetness nor the joy that a cup of coffee could conjure, because it was simply not like them.

And so Vienna remembered that she had to stay in her box. Be 'mature', as Verona had said: put the pants on, and make sure to give her mother the answer she needed. Vi felt like she owed it to her—like she, more than anyone, was in debt with that woman. After all, even her own birth had cost her mother so freaking much, for it was no secret that Verona's conservative parents had kicked their daughter out of their house after finding out she was pregnant at eighteen.

She had given up the life she had once wished for, her studies as a first year at medical school, her whole twenties... everything. And then the damn bastard that had promised to walk with her through it all had left the house when the burden of his own demons got too heavy to carry, only to end up as the father of another household.

Verona Hoffman was strong, and Vienna knew that more than anyone.

Still, she supposed that years of fighting can start to feel like eons when your breath is running out, and Vi, as the eldest daughter, could only pay her mother back by making things a little easier for her.

"Charlotte and I... we're okay, mom." A tiny smile broke through her lips. Vienna took a hold of the woman's limp hand before continuing,  "Moving here was the best thing we could have done, and we did it thanks to you."

"At what price?"

The corners of Vienna's mouth twitched as the true answer reached the front of her mind. There's always a price to pay, a voice whispered, but she managed to bite her tongue before her real response could slip out.

"I'll be fine, okay? You don't have to worry about me." Vi swiftly changed the topic. "Maybe I can revise a few things before school starts. Just... go back to sleep."

"You're always finding ways to keep yourself busy, huh?" The woman let out a breathy chuckle, weak and melancholic. A motherly kiss landed on Vienna's forehead, "We're okay, then. We're doing well."

A warm sensation spread across her limbs, but her vocal cords remained awfully cold as she answered her mother's whispers, "We are."

"Especially now that your aunt has reached out to you. That money... I still feel like it's not real."

As soon as those words left her mouth, a sinking feeling buried its claws into Vienna's throat.

Because the money was real, and it was stacked inside the black briefcase that Terry Silver had recently given to her. Her father's sister, however, hadn't contacted her.

In fact, she hadn't done so in years, but faking a mail account and a heart-warming message had been easy enough for Vienna. Considering her aunt had been swimming in money for a long time, it wouldn't be that weird if she suddenly decided to pay for Charlotte's physical therapy after Vi reached out, asking for help.

The girl had shown her mother the fake message, which consisted of an apology for being so distant and the promise to pay for Charlie's recovery process. The woman had always loathed Verona, and the latter didn't want to have anything to do with any of her ex-husband's family members, so the risk of having them actually talk to each other and discover the lie was minimum.

Verona had been desperate enough to believe it, and Vienna... she could only avoid her mother's eyes while she was explaining the situation to her.

Pretending was easy sometimes, but that was perhaps the biggest lie she had ever come up with.

And Vienna had felt guilty, and she had also doubted her choices as she redacted the email in the name of her aunt, but the money was already under her bed, and she knew she couldn't just take Charlotte to her therapy sessions without giving some context to both the girl and their mother.

A made-up story in exchange for a greater good.

That sounded fair, right?

"It is, mom," she choked out, though she managed to hide her true thoughts behind a feigned smile. "Today's the day."

"Today's the day," Verona repeated after her. "Take care of your sister, okay? And take care of yourself, too." Her hand traveled to Vienna's cheek; thumb caressing the skin under her left eye, "Eye bags don't lie."

𓆩 ♡ 𓆪

Two more coffee cups and ten hours later, Vienna Hoffman found herself standing at Miguel Diaz's front door.

All of a sudden, the Chemistry book that was stored inside her bag started to feel heavier, crushing her shoulders while simultaneously gluing her feet to the ground. As she fought the urge to turn back around and give up, Vi reminded herself that she was there for valid reasons: learning more about the enemy, getting some extra training that could make her look less pathetic in Cobra Kai, and perhaps gaining the skills she needed to defend Charlotte a little sooner than the average karate-newbie, just in case that LaRusso kid and his gang decided to do something worse than calling her mean nicknames.

The plan was simple enough—one hour of helping Miguel with Chemistry followed by one hour of karate training. Nothing weird, nothing deep, and especially nothing that required bonding. However, as she stood there, trying to get the courage to finally knock on the door, the importance of that task—and perhaps the fear of spending alone time with Miguel—made her stomach churn.

Whatever, she told herself. Frustration pumped inside her veins as she lifted her chin. Let's make it quick.

Her knuckles tapped thrice on the wooden surface and, just a couple of seconds later, the same curly-haired boy she had been dreading to see met her on the other side of the door.

He seemed warm and welcoming; his stance being the total opposite of Vienna's rigid position. A tiny smile adorned his lips as he greeted her, "Hey."

"Hey."

Silence cornered them after that.

An awkward kind of tension took over the air, and Vienna could only rock on her heels as she waited for something—anything—to happen. She suddenly felt as if she didn't know how to act around him, like a shy kid being forced to come out of their shell. She was trying to keep her mind cold and concentrated, but the fact that she was left almost speechless in front of Miguel was absolutely infuriating, and it only made her skin itch and her jaw clench in irritation.

She then decided that she had been avoiding his gaze for too long, so she brought her eyes up, straight to his own. Vi cleared her throat, grasping the straps of her bag with so much force that her knuckles turned white.

"Can I come inside?"

The severity of her tone was unsettling enough to wipe out the grin from Miguel's face. A confused look took over his eyes, as if he hadn't expected to hear such a hard hue coming from the shorter girl's words. Nevertheless, his jaw eventually mimicked the tension that had been growing in hers; gaze toughening up in a mere instant.

Good, Vi thought. Perhaps now he's on the same page as I am.

Her smugness, however, didn't last long, for the way he proceeded to open the door wider managed to surprise her; he didn't utter a single word, didn't even attempt to break the ice as he let her in. In the short time she'd known him, Miguel had struck her as the type who would usually spark a conversation, one of those people that pestered their targets until they got the answers they wanted—a guy who would never give up, even if she tried to dodge him. Now, witnessing his silence, Vienna couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, her tongue had been a little too sharp.

That wasn't supposed to matter, though.

His thoughts didn't mean anything to her, nor did the opinion he could have of her.

And so she kept walking forward.

Even after their shoulders brushed, even after a shiver ran down her spine at the subtle touch, she didn't look back at him.

Next thing she knew, a small living room was welcoming her presence. Her eyes scanned the place, mesmerized by the thick warmness that seemed to hold onto the walls, the smell of cinnamon, the remaining scent of a savory meal that had been probably prepped a little less than an hour ago. The apartment was much like hers, exuding that claustrophobic aura that described every single flat in Reseda, but, somehow... it felt big, and refreshing, and comfortable.

The single picture that was located on the kitchen counter was the next thing that caught her attention.

A beautiful woman with curly hair had her arms wrapped around a slightly younger version of Miguel; she looked around the same age as Vienna's mother, and her skin was as perfectly golden as the boy's. Next to them, an older woman wasn't looking at the camera, too focused on kissing the teenager's cheek, whose big smile and braces seemed to shine through the photo.

It was safe to assume that they were a family, but... there was no father figure in sight.

All of a sudden, that part of herself she so desperately tried to hide—the little girl who used to miss her dad, the one who resented the kids whose fathers picked them up from school while she walked home alone—, urged her to ask Miguel if he, too, knew what it was to grow up without one parent.

She couldn't do that, though.

It was too intimate of a question, something she wouldn't want to talk about, and so she kept her eyes on the three people in the photo, burying the intrusive thought in the depths of her mind.

As she contemplated the pure happiness on their expressions, Vienna could only think of Charlotte, her mother, herself, and the fact that they hadn't taken a single picture together after their father left, a little more than nine years ago.

"That's my mom." Miguel's presence brought her back to reality. He had stopped by her side, looking a little less stiff than before; Vienna had the impression that the photo was exactly what had managed to calm him down. Devotion dripped from his words as he pointed at the older woman in the picture, "And that's Yaya—my grandma." The girl frowned, noticing how he had corrected himself. After clearing his throat, he went on, "She's taking a nap, and mom's working so..."

"We're alone," Vi finished for him. He nodded, turning his head to look at her with pursed lips. She intended to stop talking after that, but her mouth moved without consent, "You know you can call her 'Yaya', right?"

Miguel looked taken aback for a moment, but then let out a quiet laugh, "Most people don't know what that means."

"Well, most people didn't take Spanish classes for two years." Her lighthearted comment was crushed by the soft grin she saw on the boy's face. Without noticing, she swallowed hard; her whole back turning into hard stone once again. "Alright, let's do this," she coughed out.

A couple of minutes later, they were both sitting at the kitchen table. Pencils and erasers splayed on the hard surface, books and notes prepared for their first tutoring session.

Vi didn't waste a second—she started explaining as soon as Miguel told her what he didn't understand.

After all, that was a great excuse to keep the conversation strictly professional. She told herself that she had to be patient, wait until they started with the sparring, the kicking, and the punching; only then, she would have the opportunity to assess his techniques and learn some vital information that she could report to Silver by the end of the week, just as he had requested. Meanwhile, Vi felt more protected with her notes in front of her, as if Miguel wouldn't be able to reach her with them on the way.

He kept quiet most of the time, paying excruciating attention to every single sentence that came out of Vienna's lips. As they went through the concepts Miguel was having the most trouble with, Vi found herself enjoying the little dynamic they created. She secretly liked to talk when she was being heard, and the boy was doing just that, letting her finish before asking any questions. He was one of those people who preferred to listen and then come up with his own methods than following strict rules, and, to someone like Vienna—who wrote everything a teacher would say in class, just so she could memorize it later—, that was something she couldn't help but admire.

The glances he kept throwing at her, however, were the one thing that managed to annoy her.

But at least her patience wasn't being completely challenged, for he understood things quicker than the average student. Judging by the fact that the few notes he had taken in class were messy and incomplete, it was clear to her that the only reason he was struggling with Chemistry was that there was something on his mind.

Something that had been distracting him, and she knew that something had to do with a certain karate rivalry.

A battle burst in her head, two different options clawing at each other: bring up the topic right then and there or wait until later. That conversation was bound to give her the information she needed, but Vi found herself unable to interrupt him as he worked.

She just kept looking at the expression on his face, the pure determination that enhanced his manliest features, the tick on his jaw as he paused to think about an answer. Her mind blank, eyes lost on him.

And then he caught her staring.

A teasing smile replaced his once concentrated expression, "Something wrong?"

Even though it was sweet and lighthearted, Vienna didn't like that smirk—not one bit.

"Keep looking at me and you might get something wrong, champ. Don't mess up your homework."

Hypocrite, her conscience laughed at her. Her cheeks were burning, undoubtedly tinted by the same pink color of that stupid mug she disliked so much. However, she put all of her efforts into ignoring the heat that consumed her face, following the stubborn instinct that warned her not to shy away.

"Okay, okay..." Miguel raised his hands in feigned surrender. "Help me, then."

"Help you with what?"

The boy rolled his eyes in amusement, "Don't just sit there. Come and help me."

His entertained expression made her defenses skyrocket. She frowned, crossing her arms unconsciously, "If you think that I haven't been trying to help you already then I'll happily go back home and—"

"Of course you've helped," he cut her off. This time, there was no tease, no playful mischief in his voice; his smile was now honest, and even the tiniest bit sheepish. "I just... there's something I don't get."

Vienna hesitated, tightening her lips in a thin line. His eyes were warm and inviting, but hers were cold and alert, like those of a cautious prey. However, she was the one who lost their little staring contest, forcing herself to stand up even when her legs tried to pull her back down.

She went to his side of the table. Slowly, wary, as if she didn't trust him; palms hidden beneath the sleeves of her sweater in that nervous gesture she had picked up over the years. And then she was behind him, putting her hand on the table, next to his notebook. Vienna wasn't that close to him, but she could still feel his stare burning holes in the side of her face as she crouched a little, trying to get a better look over his shoulder.

Something tightened around her throat; her eyes roamed over the exercise he'd been doing, but she found herself coming back to the beginning every time, for she could not process the words she read—not with him being so focused on her, not with the smell of his dumb cologne making its way up her nose.

She had to take a deep breath before she could start talking, yet her voice didn't feel like hers. However, she focused on explaining the exercise to him, pointing out the mistakes he had made. Vienna's frown deepened as she noticed those were things he had been previously doing right, but didn't comment on it until she got to the last part of the exercise, where she noticed the first stain: a faint mark, specks of graphite lingering on the paper.

Vi squinted her eyes, read the almost imperceptible numbers, and then she understood.

The exercise was perfectly done—Miguel had simply erased the right numbers from the formula.

"You messed up on purpose."

"What? No—"

Vi raised her eyebrows at him, daring him to finish. His panicked expression was replaced by one of defeat.

"Okay, okay," he grumbled, "I did."

The girl took a step back, taking her arm away from the table, away from Miguel. She noticed that she could now breathe a little better, but didn't entertain the thought. Instead, she asked, "Why?"

"Do you want the truth or—"

"The truth, Miguel. I didn't come here to play games."

"C'mon, don't get mad." He trapped her wrist when she started to pull back, successfully anchoring her to her place. Her insides clenched at the touch, and she suddenly had the urge to rip her hand away. Fortunately, he let her go just as quickly, clearing his throat in embarrassment. "I wanted to talk to you. And not about Chemistry, just... talk."

To Vienna, it was easy to tell that he was being sincere.

She, however, didn't understand why.

He knew that she was set on pushing him away, and yet there he was, looking at her as if she were a mystery, a case he needed to solve, and she found herself hating it; veins burning, heart pumping with something that she wanted to recognize as frustration.

Still, she knew that she had to keep him on her side if she wanted to fulfill her mission, and she could also use his persistence as a chance to ask him the question that had been roaming her mind.

"Okay, then. Let's start a conversation. Why do you look so distracted in class?" Vienna went straight to the point, not even bothering to hide the fire in her voice. "You know that's the reason why you're having a hard time with Chemistry, right?"

Miguel didn't seem to mind her crudeness, for he looked more worried about choosing his next words, "Well, there's this karate tournament coming up in May. We're... we're training, a lot." He let out a nervous chuckle, running a hand through his hair, "I can't exactly stop thinking about it when everyone expects me to win, can I?"

"You were the champion last year." Vienna's tight frown loosened up at his somber expression. She couldn't find it in herself to keep her harsh tone up when he was looking like a lost puppy. "You shouldn't worry," she mumbled.

For a split second, Vi forgot that her team was supposed to win that tournament, not Miguel's.

"I got injured, Vienna. It's not the same anymore."

A bitter laugh escaped from his lips. It was obvious that he was trying to downplay the situation, but Vienna could clearly spot the cracks among his surface, the tiny fragments of doubt and insecurity, and something else—something she had previously seen in her own reflection, something that had been haunting her for her whole life.

The fear of not being good enough.

Yes, that was it.

"It's the pressure, isn't it?" Her words slipped out in a whisper; quiet and intimate, honest and knowing. "Like... like you feel you need to win again, and you don't even know why?"

Something flickered in Miguel's eyes. However, in a mere instant, it vanished; vulnerability turned into defensiveness, "No, no, I want to win."

"Yeah, I gathered that. Do you know why, though?"

He didn't answer.

"Exactly," she went on. Vienna intended to stop right there, go to her seat and get back to studying, but she couldn't contain her thoughts, nor the sudden need to offer him... something, anything, and so she chose honesty, "Just think about your goals, your motives, and... training might be easier that way. You'll soon stop thinking about it when you're supposed to focus on other things."

Vi really wanted to escape from the look he gave her after she finished talking. Nevertheless, the walls had constricted around her, and the softness of his gaze didn't allow her to run away this time.

"How do you know that it works?" he wondered quietly.

"Because that's what I've been doing my whole life." Vienna wasn't able to hold the weight of his stare any longer, lowering her gaze to the floor. She cleared her throat after that, "Keep going, Miguel; you still have two exercises left."

Without looking back, Vi went back to her seat, biting her tongue as she quietly regretted the conversation they just had. Still, she couldn't do anything but sulk on her side of the table.

She could feel the silence crawling around her bones, his pupils stuck on her flesh, an anxious feeling that made her bounce her leg up and down as her cheeks burned in sheepishness. She didn't believe in God, but she silently prayed for time to go by a little faster, just so she could put an end to that torment.

Miguel soon understood her reluctance to talk, and Vienna couldn't help but notice the way he clenched his jaw every time she cut off his attempts to engage in another conversation.

He won't let me breathe in peace, will he?

𓆩 ♡ 𓆪

Miguel, in fact, hadn't let her breathe in peace.

At least half an hour had passed since they began training, and Vienna had started to believe that her lungs wouldn't be able to work properly from then on. She held her water-filled bottle tightly, almost burying her nails on the metal surface as she tried to put herself together, but not even the fresh air that flowed around the park Miguel had proposed to train in was able to calm her pulse down. Vi used to be one of the most resistant athletes on her school's track team, and Cobra Kai's training was quickly getting her back into shape, but, somehow, sparring against the Diaz boy had completely drained her energy.

Perhaps she had been too focused on trying to avoid physical touch, struggling to calculate her every move so they stood as far away as possible. She, however, preferred to think that her mind had simply been too occupied with trying to memorize all of his techniques, leaving her more tired than normal.

Yes, that sounded like a good answer—much better than the first option, at the very least.

"Hey... Do you want to stop for today?"

Vienna only held her bottle tighter.

The question made her blood boil and, when she finally met Miguel's sympathetic eyes, she could only grit her teeth in frustration. Rays of sunshine slipped through his mop of curls, and he looked almost divine, with nothing but a thin layer of sweat painting his skin as the only evidence of their training; Vienna's face, on the other hand, had turned red from the effort, and her clothes were sticking to her skin, stained with bits of grass and dirt from all of the times she had ended up on the floor.

That only annoyed her more.

Miguel was a good fighter, incredibly good, and the worst part was that Vienna knew he had been going easy on her. He could only be described as a natural; that, combined with the fact that he had obviously put all of his blood, sweat, and tears into becoming what he was, turned him into some type of karate machine. He lacked the aggression that Tory possessed, he didn't fight with Robby's anger, and he seemed to mix offense with just the right amount of defense. She couldn't put a name to his style, yet it still looked better than anything she'd seen before.

Vienna clicked her tongue. Her insides turned, motivated by her stubbornness.

One hit. She only needed to land one hit, and then she would feel satisfied. Maybe that would be enough to erase his dumb smile for a few minutes, and at least her pride could see that as a victory.

"I can keep going," she replied, concealing her obstinacy behind a fake, sugary smile. "But can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

She swallowed hard. Somehow, his lack of hesitance managed to freeze her guts for a second, but she recovered quickly.

"Don't hold back."

Her words caused that insufferable smirk to appear on Miguel's lips; a spark of excitement illuminating his features.

"Are you sure?" asked the bastard. She nodded, leaving the bottle on the floor before going straight to a fighting stance. Vienna heard him laugh, and she couldn't help but frown in confusion. "Okay, but let me fix your posture first."

She puffed her chest out, holding her fists a little higher, "My posture is fine."

"Your hips don't say the same thing." Vienna was about to protest, but Miguel was quick to close the distance between them, successfully shutting her up as he pointed to her hips with a move from his chin. When she lowered her gaze, she noticed that he was, in fact, right. "See that, smartass?"

Vienna didn't even say anything about the stupid nickname. She was speechless once again, only able to answer with a curt nod—no clever response in sight, no witty words coming to her mind.

"Um," he cleared his throat awkwardly, momentarily losing his boyish cockiness, "can I?"

Another wordless nod, and then his hands were on her hips, turning them just a few centimeters in order to put them in the correct position. Vienna held her breath without noticing, not daring to lift her eyes from her feet, which he then proceeded to kick slightly apart; shoulder-width, she recognized, for that was one of the mistakes Silver and Kreese had corrected her in the past.

Although Miguel didn't know that, a few of her peers from Cobra Kai had helped her with her fighting stance before—that simple gesture wasn't new for her. However, the boy's soft touch, the way he handled her as if she were about to break, had put every fiber of her skin on high alert.

No one had ever treated her so gently.

"That's it," he muttered, taking a step back to admire his work. Vi inhaled sharply, not daring to move from her new position; a tight and tense smile decorating her features, an itchy feeling resting in the pit of her stomach. Thankfully, Miguel didn't seem to notice, "Ready?"

She didn't know exactly when or how did the combat begin. What she knew, however, was that a rush of adrenaline consumed her muscles as they both stared at each other, silently waiting for the other to attack.

In his eyes, she was supposed to be completely new at karate, so she tried her best to forget Cobra Kai's motto of striking first. After a couple of seconds, that didn't seem like a problem to Miguel, who started with a couple of precise punches. She managed to block them, immediately recognizing the technique as something that Tory had previously used against her during their improvised matches.

He was definitely using more strength than before, forcing her to grunt from the effort. Still, Miguel seemed entertained, excited by the premise of competition.

That only ignited the same kind of fire in Vienna's stomach.

Somehow, she suddenly forgot how to pretend. She threw the first kick—one that Sensei Silver had forced her to repeat again and again and again, until her legs gave out and she finally got it right—, and, fortunately, it went straight where she wanted.

Shocked, Miguel was forced to take a step back. He put a hand over his stomach, just where her foot had landed; she lacked power, but her short height and experience on the track team made her fast enough to hit him. The tan boy didn't seem hurt in the slightest, but his mouth had opened, as if he wanted to ask her how she had managed to land that kick when he had been teaching her something entirely different that evening.

The fear of being discovered crossed her mind for a split second. Nevertheless, she just gave him her most challenging glare.

"What?" she mocked, unable to hide the proud grin that took over her face. "Did I surprise the champion?"

"Oh, don't." His laugh sounded like that of a kid. The boy raised his fists once again, this time more eager than before. "You don't want to provoke me, Vienna."

Her smile only grew wider as she watched his expression; arched eyebrows, amused stare, pure elation lingering on the corners of his mouth. It infected her, took control of her thoughts, made her forget about everything else: the distance she was supposed to maintain, her commitment to Cobra Kai, the fact that she shouldn't be having fun.

A breathy chuckle slipped past her lips, "Come here, then."

That was exactly what he did.

Miguel had the upper hand after that, but he seemed more focused on mocking her than actually fighting. The playful banter only increased as seconds passed; he pretended to be the greatest of teachers, explaining every move he was using against her in an attempt to distract her, and she had to suppress her smile every time he let her land a hit. A hint of competitiveness was still there, yet it was faint and lighthearted, for it seemed like he had forgotten his promise of going hard.

And still, Vienna couldn't help but respect him.

The fact that he was there, moving and laughing despite the pressure he was putting on his body, despite his accident and the scar that surely stained his spine, was simply unbelievable. He made karate look a little prettier, a little easier, and a little less like a responsibility and more like a work of passion.

Maybe her peers from Cobra Kai were right. Maybe he was everything they had been talking about, and perhaps even more.

A once injured boy, one who had managed to overcome an obstacle Vienna didn't even dare to imagine, was the best fighter she had met so far.

And she finally confirmed her hypothesis when he captured both of her wrists in a swift move as she tried to hit his chest, crossing one over the other in an awkward position that wouldn't allow her to escape; arms trapped between his chest and her own, lips parted as she tried to catch her breath back.

She had lost. She had lost when he had wanted her to lose.

For some reason, she didn't really care.

"Did I hold back?"

His words came out in a whisper, a hot rush of air that stroke every inch of her burning face. Vienna lifted her head, meeting a pair of twinkling eyes.

"You did," she barely muttered back.

"Maybe next time I won't." Vienna saw his throat bobbing as he swallowed, the way his chest heaved up and down, how his eyes scanned every inch of her face as if he were trying to read her thoughts. His signature grin accompanied his next words, "The fight would end up quicker, though."

"You know I could kick you right now, right?"

Subtlety, she moved her right knee up, teasing to sink it into his stomach.

Miguel squinted his eyes, scrutinizing her from above, "You wouldn't."

"Wanna bet?"

"Do it, then."

She tried.

She really tried.

But she was stuck there, completely paralyzed under the weight of his chocolate stare. She could feel his grip tightening around her wrists, anticipating her next action, but she simply didn't dare to move.

No, she couldn't do it—not with that tingling sensation expanding from the place he was gripping to the very center of her stomach, not when a part of her consciousness was shouting at her, reminding her that she was crossing the same lines she had wanted to put between her and Miguel.

"Miguel?"

Once she heard a feminine voice coming from behind her, Vienna was forced to put her feet back on the ground.

She didn't wait to see Miguel's reaction as she harshly pulled her arms away from him. Lost in a haze, she stumbled backward as she unconsciously wiped her hands on the fabric of her leggings, attempting to get rid of the remnants of the boy's touch.

When she turned around, she came face to face with a pair of electric blue eyes.

Samantha LaRusso was staring at them with a look Vienna couldn't quite read. Nevertheless, it definitely didn't look like the compassionate expression Sam had given her when she hit her in the nose with a freaking ball during PE.

"Hey, Sam." Miguel stopped by Vi's side, giving Sam an awkward kind of smile. He scratched the back of his head in a nervous gesture, taking his eyes from Samantha to Vienna, and finally back to his ex. "Um... what are you doing here?"

It was clear that the boy was trying to break the ice that had suddenly frozen the air. However, with Sam's scrutinizing gaze glued on her, Vi could only conclude that he wasn't doing that great of a job.

Vienna arched her eyebrows, telling herself not to judge blindly; maybe Samantha's brother was a bully, but that wasn't a good enough reason to resent her. However, the fact that the brunette looked uncomfortable with her mere presence made Vi wonder if she didn't want her there, or if perhaps the tense vibes she was getting from Sam's body language were just a figment of her imagination.

Either way, it wasn't her problem. She knew Miguel and Sam used to be a couple—she had heard it many times, and, for some reason she was yet to comprehend, their past relationship even was a heated topic of conversation in Cobra Kai; however, if there were still some unsolved feelings lingering between them, that was definitely something Vi wanted to stay out from.

Samantha shook her head after a few seconds, tearing her eyes away from Vienna. Her features relaxed momentarily as she turned to look at Miguel, not before greeting Vi with a rigid-looking smile.

"Just taking a shortcut," she finally answered. "I'm meeting Moon and Yasmine at the mall, so..."

The silence was resumed after that—uncomfortable and tedious and incredibly long. Vi wondered if she should have just taken a couple of steps back, especially considering that Sam was only looking at her ex, but she chose to remain still.

When no one seemed willing to talk, the blue-eyed girl spoke to Miguel once again, "And you are... training without the rest of us?"

"No, of course not," he justified quickly—almost too quickly. "Vienna just wants to learn some karate and... I'm teaching her, I guess."

He's just making it worse, Vienna thought, pursing her lips as her mind started plotting. Miguel was trying to smooth things down, but, judging by Sam's expression, she didn't seem to be buying that excuse, even though it was the truth.

"Because I'm tutoring him," Vi decided to add. "I'm helping him with Chemistry; he's helping me with karate."

Somehow, that seemed enough to satisfy Samantha, whose frown loosened almost instantly.

Vi could feel Miguel's confused gaze burning holes into her profile, but she forced herself to keep looking forward. She did not know why she had suddenly decided to make up an excuse for him—well... it was real, but still—; it just seemed like... like the right thing to do.

Plus, she understood that Samantha might have gotten the wrong idea after catching them being so close to each other, with no one else around. Vienna didn't want that, either; she didn't want to initiate any rumors, she didn't want to be seen as "the other woman".

Perhaps Miguel still had feelings for Sam; perhaps Sam had them for him, too.

"Oh. That's nice of you." Samantha threw a tight-lipped grin in Vienna's direction, but, this time, it at least looked sincere. Without waiting for an answer, Sam's eyes went straight to Miguel, "See you later, then?"

"Yeah, see you at the dojo."

After that, Samantha went away.

The tension dissipated as soon as she was out of sight, but there was still something electric gnawing at Vienna's toes. She avoided Miguel's gaze, heading to the place where her bag lay on the grass to take out her phone and check the time. Relieved, she sighed when she saw that there were only ten minutes left of their little training session; she could take that as a sign to go home.

If she could get away from Miguel's presence a little sooner, she would take the chance. Get it over with, avoid dwelling on the awkward encounter they had just had with Samantha.

And, especially, run away from the strange proximity Miguel and her had shared only a few moments ago.

"Wanna head back?" she then asked, keeping herself occupied by twisting the cap of her water bottle.

"So you're just going to pretend like you didn't help me with Sam, then."

It wasn't even a question—he said it as if it were a fact, as if he were completely certain and knew her too well to understand that she was determined to feign ignorance.

Yes, that was exactly what she was doing, but he didn't have to know that, though.

"Hate to break it to you, but you're seeing things, champ," Vienna shrugged nonchalantly, "I just told the truth."

"Mhm, of course." Miguel merely smirked, squinting his eyes as he analyzed her for a second. Vi could feel the sarcasm dripping from his words, but decided to keep quiet; still, he didn't give up, "You didn't have to do that, y'know?" His eyes softened for a fleeting moment, but then hardened the tiniest bit at his next words, "Sam can think whatever she wants; we're not together anymore."

"I suppose all that tension got me fooled," she couldn't help but scoff.

"Well, I swear—we're just friends. We weren't good for each other." A heavy sigh escaped from his lips, "That's not how relationships work, right?"

During the brief pause that he took, Vi could spot a few specks of fondness in his expression. However, there was something else—something like acceptance—shining through his sheepish smile. Vienna couldn't tell if he still felt something for Sam, if he was lying to cover up his feelings, but he did seem to regret some things about his past relationship, and yet he still respected it.

She couldn't relate to that.

She couldn't understand it. And, when Vienna Hoffman didn't understand something, her gut twisted in frustration.

The girl huffed, speaking in an almost inaudible tone, "I wouldn't know."

Miguel blinked in surprise, "You've never been with someone?"

"It's never been my priority," she answered curtly, hoping that that was enough to change the topic.

It wasn't.

"I don't believe you."

"It's the truth! And no one has ever shown any interest in me so..." Vienna cleared her throat, feeling like her mouth had suddenly gone dry, "It's for the better, anyway."

Of course it was for the better.

If she couldn't feel, if no one was willing to make her feel, then she wouldn't get hurt. It wasn't a complicated hypothesis; on the contrary, it was simple, far simpler than most of her thoughts and morals, because she simply wasn't willing to take any risks, not when she'd seen first hand how love could destroy a human's soul.

Self-preservation at its finest, or at least that was what she liked to call it.

Truth was, she was afraid of ending up like her mother.

Something in Miguel's face changed for a fleeting second. It was subtle, way too subtle for someone as expressive as him; that was probably the reason why Vienna couldn't decode it, even though she tried.

"You're so... in control—of everything," the boy chuckled under his breath, unaware of the quiet jump her heart made when he looked at her in that stupid way. "I kind envy you a little."

"Just pretend," she muttered. "That's what I do: pretend to be in control. It helps."

At least it does most of the time, Vienna finished mentally.

When she felt like the conversation wouldn't go any further, the girl turned her back towards him, kneeling on the ground so she could store the water bottle in her bag. She did it slowly, taking her time—pretending that she wasn't shaken up after talking about her non-existent love life, pretending that knowing Samantha was a LaRusso hadn't woken up an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach as she remembered her brother was a bully, pretending that she hadn't enjoyed the little sparring session she had shared with Miguel.

Pretending that she didn't have to go back home and analyze what she had learned from the Diaz boy that evening, storing it in her mind so she could reveal it to Sensei Silver later.

"Hey, Vienna?"

Miguel's voice forced her to stop. She waited still, keeping her calm-and-collected facade on, yet didn't turn to look at him.

"I'm probably not the right person to tell you this, but... letting go is cool, too."

Vienna almost let out a bitter laugh.

Was he patronizing her about her romantic decisions?

She stood up; a frown set on her face as she faced him, "I don't need advice about my dating life, Miguel."

"I was talking about karate, smartass."

A smirk grew on his face—proud and mischievous and positively brightening. The amusement in his eyes told her that he definitely wasn't just talking about karate.

However, as her cheeks lit up, she didn't find it in herself to contradict him.

𓆩 ♡ 𓆪

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oo. ▇  ‧‧ . ༉‧₊˚  𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆  ... ❜

finally! a new chapter!

this was really really hard to write. i didn't have the time and inspiration to do so (and i barely have time now lmao), but i love this story and i want to keep writing it, even if the updates are very slow. i hope you understand; it's just that being a freshman in college isn't easy. ):

i would like to read your opinions so far! we haven't gotten much of the Cobra Kai plot yet, but i really needed to write these interactions between Miggy and Vienna; i'm really enjoying their dynamic so far!
as for the Sam fans out there... don't worry, i do like her character, but i feel like she would act this way towards Vienna if she was a part of the show, so bare with me because this will give you a little dose of drama. (;

remember that i appreciate y'all so much. i really hope you liked this chapter!

that's it, babes. see you soon!

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