【 reseda, 2017 】

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━━ Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The sound of dripping had been a sound that has lingered in the back of her head for as long as she could remember. 

The sound of a leaky bathtub in days of childhood. Sea salt dripping onto logs warmed by small bonfires among family friends.

For a short while, it had been tears. Those had been beaten out of her pretty quickly, however. 

It had most often been blood.

Her nose gushed the liquid when it had been broken. Her teeth were regularly stained red after fights. Her body bled often from gunshots and stab wounds she sustained on missions. 

Her knuckles were the biggest source of bleeding. She had spent the past decade, carefully curating a reputation with her fists. She had been a perfect generational reflection of the Academy. Her fingertips were forever marked red.

Though she would admit, it had been a long time since Stevie sustained this level of damage to her fists. She had left her blood on the metal post she had been beating relentlessly, and as she went to return to her apartment, she had frozen at Johnny's request.

"I want you to join Cobra Kai."

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The sound of her blood pooling on the concrete beside her was almost hypnotic. She didn't grace him with anything more than silently walking away, leaving a sanguine trail in her wake. In the morning, it would be a vibrant stain that caused questions. For tonight, it was just another suspicious substance on Los Angeles streets. 

Stevie had been so lost in her own thoughts, she hadn't realized she was already at the apartment complex, digging her less injured hand into her bag to get the keys. Some of her blood got on the brass as she unlocked the door, and red was smeared on the edge as she opened it. 

She moved like she was a robot, going through the routine she was far too familiar with. 

The bathroom for the washcloths. 

The kitchen for the first aid.

The freezer for the vodka. 

Stevie stretched her fingers under the faucet, keeping it in place until the water didn't run red anymore. She opened the liquor with her left hand and took a swig of it before she pulled her hand out of the water.

Without the blood marring her view of her hand, she could see how swollen and bruised it had truly been. ( She had been right, bone was visible on her clean knuckles. ) With the adrenaline wearing off, she could tell that this was beyond cracks and fractures. Apparently, she wasn't stronger than metal; it had shattered her hand after all. 

How disappointing.

Stevie poured the alcohol onto her wound, almost relishing in the sting before she dabbed at the split skin with her towel. She dropped it in the sink, and grabbed the bandage from her kit. Tucking one end between her thumb and first finger, she began the tight wrap around her knuckles before tying it off near the heel of her palm.

The pain hadn't disappeared, but it was manageable. So unfortunate that she could no longer zero in on the break to avoid Johnny's proposition.

"I want you to join Cobra Kai."

Stevie didn't enjoy her neighbor's company by any means, but it had been nice: the visit to the dojo, where she could, if only partially, quell her hunger for a fight. The brawl in the bar. 

The moves were more natural than breathing. 

And she wasn't a fool. As patient as Stevie was, she no longer was able to keep her temper in check. Not as well as she used to, at least. It was mildly concerning: feeling more and more similar to her most unhinged former companion. 

Perhaps that kind of outlet could help keep her in check. Stevie never wanted to be comparable to Irina, who had no sense of restraint or morals.

But it raised another question to the forefront of Stevie's mind: if she needed an outlet so badly, why had she never sought it out on her own?

She knew the answer. It lingered deep in the back of her mind. 

Stevie wanted to sever any remaining ties she had left from the Red Room, and that included the training. That fight had controlled her entire life, and she did not want to go back. She did not want to feel the need to struggle for her survival anymore than she already does. Where winning was the only thing that kept her from being burned in an unmarked grave.

She stayed pretending that she didn't crave the need for combat. She suffered through yet another sleepless night ( as if shutting her eyes had ever done her any good ). She loathed to admit the dreams that plagued her were focused more on a forked tongue moreso than the red hourglass that usually took control of her sleep. 

▄ ▄ ▄

━━ Knock. 

Knock. 

Knock.

The sound at the door made her grip tighten on the gun beneath the pillow.

Stevie was quietly walking out of the bedroom into the foyer where the knocking became more prominent. Her toes seemed to stick to the unnaturally cold tile floors, but she turned the safety off of her firearm, and reached for the door with her injured hand to unlock it.

Her finger was resting comfortably on the trigger before she heard her name being shouted.

"Stevie? Stevie, you in there?"

She tucked her gun beneath the crappy couch cushion before going to open the door to greet her neighbor.

"What do you want?"

If Stevie was being honest, Miguel looked rather uncomfortable. He was holding a plastic container in his hands and had a nervous smile plastered on his face. His eyes kept darting away from her, and she finally picked up on the blood that was smeared all over the door of the apartment. 

That would explain it.

"Well?" She didn't allow herself to repeat her earlier question, but it seemed to shake him out of his stupor.

"Uh, my yaya made enough llapingachos to feed the army last night, so we wanted to give you some leftovers."

Liar.

As if she couldn't see the fresh cut on his fingertip and the smell wafting off of his clothes. But she could feel her stomach rumble.

Had yesterday so hectic that she hadn't had the chance to eat?

Before she could object ( for the sake of her own pride if nothing else ), Miguel shoved the container into her hands. Stevie winced at the unexpected force put on her right hand, which she had not cleaned since she arrived at the apartment early this morning.

His eyes whipped down, taking notice of the bandages she donned for the first time, "Shit! I am so sorry! Are you okay? What hap─"

"I guess blondie's training is working," Stevie said, "Don't even know your own strength."

She turned back into the kitchen, dropping the container on the counter. As hungry as she is, Stevie's main priority was currently her hand. 

Now that she was awake and not distracted by sad apology eyes, she could see the shades of pink that had begun to leak through the gauze before it had finally dried down. The morning hours caused it to harden around her knuckles. She had untied the top layer and began to unwrap the bandages, having to break them as she got closer to her hand.

She felt keenly aware of Miguel's eyes on her. Apparently, he took her abandoning the door as an invitation to come into the apartment. She normally greeted his constant staring with a glare ( or with a carton of milk if it was at school ), but for today, she could make an exception.

Stevie left the first layer attached, not wishing to peel skin off, and began to wet the bandage in warm water. She took a minute trying to straighten her hand out as best as she could before slipping the used bandage off under the faucet.

The color caught her eye before anything else. The bruises left on her knuckles were dark: more akin to black rather than blue. Small slits of ivory stood out starkly against the unnatural color of her skin. Blood had been smeared before it dried down, making the injury look even worse than last night.

"Oh my god," the whispered words made her tense, but they kept coming, "What happened to your hand?"

"Why are you still here?" Stevie opted to avoid the question entirely. She tried to slow her heartbeat while gently wiping scarlet stains off of her hand with her thumb. 

"I felt bad about your hand," Miguel repeated himself, "What happened to it?"

Stevie didn't say anything for a while. She inspected her hand to make sure she had cleaned all of the blood off while gingerly trying to straighten the appendage. Once she was as satisfied as she could be with the current state of her hand, she grabbed another wrap from the first aid kit she had left out to repeat the process she had done only a few hours ago.

She created a solid base and was binding her hand when she spoke up again, "A fight broke out at my work last night."

Drip.

The leaky sink.

"That was just from a fight?"

Drip.

Water droplets fell from her wrist and elbow.

"No, this was from a lamp post."

Silence.

No dripping to break it. No words. No breathing. Just the sound of her tying the bandage off.

The beige bandages were held between her pearly teeth.

"A lamp post?" Miguel's horror was thinly veiled by an attempt at an impassive expression.

"It was either that or your sensei's face." Stevie started to gain an edge to her voice that she did not have earlier, due to her deep physical exhaustion. Luckily, Miguel took that as it was.

( A sign to back off. )

His hands were up, waving the metaphorical white flag.

The renewed quiet was greatly appreciated for the moment while Stevie took the opportunity to dig into the food Miguel had made for her. The steam wafted into her face as she opened the lid and it smelled incredible. Her stomach rumbled, feeling the hunger she had learned to ignore for many years.

Stevie picked one of the patties up with her hands, tearing it in half. It was still crispy and the cheese did not break until she opened the entire span of her arms, much to her amazement. As soon as she took a bite, her throat began to tighten of its own accord. The way it tasted hit her with the same sting of grief as getting called mija by Miguel's mother.

Mija left her with the bitter parts of it: the life she couldn't remember, the parents she lost, the childhood she never had the chance to have. The llapingachos reminded her of those distant memories she wasn't sure existed. 

Stevie finished off one half rather quickly, reveling in the creamy texture and the comforting spice. Now that she was somewhat satiated, she looked up at Miguel, who was looking between his feet and the door he had shut.

"You want one?" Stevie asked, not unkindly. He looked right next to her, not wanting to commit to her stare entirely.

"I'm alright," Miguel smiled at her awkwardly, and she hummed lowly, "Thanks for offering though."

"Your loss, dingus."

As if he can't make them himself, you dumb bitch.

Stevie took her time with the other half of the patty as she looked back at Miguel, "Was this the only reason you had for coming over here?"

Suddenly, he looked really red. He avoided her eyes as he tapped his fingers against his pants, then his hand, then the counter, then his pants again. 

"Oh, uh ... well, it wasn─I mean it wasn't anything ... you know?"

"No, I don't know," Stevie found herself equal parts, amused and annoyed, "Spit it out."

"I was wondering if you were thinking about going to the dance."

Swallow it back down. 

"Um..."

It was unbecoming of her to resort to uh's and um's. She knew that, but seriously? The dance? ( The only dances Stevie ever attended were the galas where she lingered in the shadows, keeping an eye on Oksana. )

"No," Stevie told him, "I'm not a dancer."

"Neither am I," Miguel wasn't one to give up, "But it could be fun."

"I don't want to go."

He couldn't argue with that. The only reason he was going was because it was his first dance at West Valley, so he decided to change tactics.

"Have you thought about joining Cobra Kai?"

Again? How many times could she be asked that in the span of twelve hours?

"It's funny," Stevie said, not laughing at all, "Your sensei asked me the exact same question last night after he got me fired."

Miguel's face was teeming with confusion, "He was with me last night. We had training."

"All night? Because if he was with you at ... two in the morning, then somebody should tell Jamie he has a secret twin that's making me hate him even more."

He shut his eyes, once again, unable to argue with her. They had gone back to their apartments an hour before that, and he hadn't seen Sensei all morning. ( Granted, he had spent most of it cooking "leftovers" for Stevie. )

"Fuck, I'm sorry. Self-control isn't exactly his strong suit."

"I know," the heat Stevie lacked in her voice could be found in her glare, but even that was rapidly heating up, "He's been my neighbor for the better part of a year. I don't need to hear your excuses for him. I know exactly what type of sorry, pathetic excuse of a man he is. If he feels so bad, he can grow the hell up and apologize himself!"

As she got more frustrated, she walked closer to Miguel. When she finished her tirade, he had backed up and bumped into the wall on the other side of the kitchen. If Stevie had moved any closer, they would be touching chests as she wore a irritated look.

"If you're gonna keep fighting his battles for him, then forget school. You need to stay the hell away from me, end of story."

She could see the guilt and hurt ripple across his face. If it had been another time, maybe she would have acted on the pang she felt in her chest. But he would get no apology from her today. She was too tired to keep putting up with Miguel talking about Johnny like the sun shined out of his ass.

Stevie stepped away from him, and moved back to her earlier spot, "You need to leave."

She didn't watch him walk out, and only moved once she heard the door shut. She locked the door behind him and rested her head against the door. 

She had felt so much relief when she was finally freed from the Red Room, but what had she gained?

Drip.

Creeps who touched her just because they could? Adults who used children to fight their battles for them? Peers who made shitty excuses for shitty people?

Drip.

Had she not come here because she thought she would be freed from the things she did to survive over there?

Drip.

It didn't matter.

Not all of the training in the world could keep her tears from falling.

━━ i just graduated and i am going to spain in febuary. idk how to feel

━━ unrelated, but shout out to el for their lovely comments. the analysis and detail you put into those got me kicking my feel like a little kid, so thank you thank you thank you my sweet <3