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demetriandelibinaryboyfriends · 5 months

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@ckhalloween23 heyyyyyy bestie(s) I know I'm an entire-ass month late, BUT

HERE'S A PREVIEW OF THE ELIMETRI DARKFIC I PROMISED

Listen, y'all can't give me a "Serial Killers" prompt and the opportunity to write the dark, unhinged Demetri Alexopoulos of my dreams presented on a silver platter and NOT expect me to go a little apeshit ^^;

Or. A lot apeshit. Because boy did I let this funny little comic relief guy SNAP ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Also, funnily enough, I realized over the course of the last year or so that I'm probably autistic? For the longest time I held off on writing Hawk's POV because I hc him as autistic and I didn't think I could do him justice, but...I've unlocked this Fun Secret Collector's Item now, I guess XD Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz POV acquired!

Decided to give it a stab here, since him having NO fucking idea how to react to Crazy Demetri was just too much fun. Hawk came to me surprisingly easy once I got started, actually??? I mean I've always related to him a lot but I had no idea it was like. An autism thing. I thought it was just an ND thing akisudhlkuhyfu

Head's up to Tory and Robby stans...this may not be the fic for you. You have been warned 👀

CW for blood, violence, knife-threatening, light knifeplay, toxic relationships (although YMMV), mentions of murder, implied slut-shaming, homophobic slurs, and sexual subtext.

Fic under the cut! As always, moodboard pic credits available upon request :3

***

Hawk’s on his 30th rep when he hears the front door.

He stops mid-jab, the punching bag rattling on its chain as it sways back and forth. Scoffing, he rolls his eyes.

His mom must be home early. How fucking annoying.

He was looking forward to having the house to himself. With his father on a weekend-long business trip and his mother at her Friday night wine hangout, he was finally going to catch up on training without any interruptions.

The last thing he needs is to be outdone by Kyler Park and Robby Fucking Keene.

Hopefully his mom won’t come knocking, pestering him to watch movies or some other frivolous crap. He doesn’t have time for that anymore.

Strange. There’s a notable lack of the jingling and clattering that usually comes from 50 million things being shifted through an oversize purse. Hawk pauses, listening for any noise.

Maybe he imagined it.

“What the hell.” He takes a sip of the Red Bull on his bedside. Some sleep-deprived delirium or whatever it was wasn’t going to fuck up his focus.

Sure, he’s been averaging 5 hours a night, but who gives a shit? It’s not like anyone in high school actually gets enough sleep.

Sensei Kreese said in ‘Nam, they had to be ready to fight on a moment’s notice—geared to slaughter enemies after a mere 30 minutes’ rest in 48 hours. Hawk doesn’t strive for anything less.

The stairs creak.

His mom isn’t usually one for sneaking past his room, but perhaps she’s too tired to be chatty. He thanks the powers that be this seems to be the case, and returns to his reps.

Jab, cross, roundhouse. Jab, cross, roundhouse. Elbow. Knee to the chest.

He counts them out as he goes, power surging through him. Sensei will be sorry he started singing Keene’s praises when Hawk’s a better fighter than that piece of shit ever was.

Because throwing someone off a balcony when they had their guard down was a coward’s move. Typical Miyagi Do bullshit.

God, Hawk hates them. Hypocrites. Losers. Pussies.

He thinks of a new insult every time he lands a punch.

Miguel’s fucking insane for not appreciating what Cobra Kai did to get payback. What Hawk did to get payback.

His fists are starting to ache, fingers burning from being smashed against rubber again and again. Hawk doesn’t care.

Sensei would say the pain makes him stronger.

Jab cross jab cross jab cross jab cross jab cross jab cross jab cross—

“You know, at some point, I think you’re as good as you’re going to get at punching.”

A shadow blocks the hallway light.

Dread grips him in frosty talons. His arms still, the punching bag swinging back and smacking his chest.

He gasps, stumbling back. Still, he refuses to look at the doorway.

Refuses to let Demetri see his shock.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?”

He presses as much venom into the words as possible. Enough intimidation, and Demetri will back down.

He knows now that Hawk is as real a threat as he ever was. And Demetri’s smart enough not to keep poking at a tiger that’s already mauled him.

“In what world would I not remember where you keep your spare keys?” Demetri sneers.

Well. Maybe that’s a bit generous.

“What do you want?”

Hawk keeps his tone steely, hoping he can kill whatever plans are swimming around his ex-best-friend’s head before they even form. In all likelihood, Demetri’s here to be a nuisance at best and a night-ruiner at worst.

Fucking Demetri. He’s always been such a distraction.

Hawk needs to get rid of those.

He thought he did. But Demetri is apparently either too stupid or too obsessed with the past to be properly scared away.

Irritating, but admittedly also interesting. It shows a kind of boldness that he wouldn’t expect Demetri, of all people, to have.

“Maybe I want to check in on my best friend.” Groaning footfalls as Demetri starts to slowly cross Hawk’s room. “I see you avoiding me at school. And you didn’t even bother to show when your little friends crashed Sam’s party. Perhaps I want to see how you are, hmmmm?”

And try as he might, Hawk can’t pick up the usual sarcastic edge to Demetri’s tone. He frowns at his far wall, confused.

There’s something odd in Demetri’s voice, and Hawk can’t for the life of him pick up what it is.

He still refuses to look at his oldest friend. He’s not going to give him the satisfaction of undivided attention.

Demetri is a pest, and should be treated as such.

“We’re not best friends,” Hawk says tightly, landing another punch on his bag. “Whatever we were? It’s done. Has been for a long time. Why can’t you get that?”

He finally graces Demetri with a look. He’s expecting the usual sullen look—scrunched brow, open mouth, widened eyes. Like he’s eternally surprised Hawk doesn’t need him anymore.

A look where maybe, if he prods it farther, Demetri will storm off. Or run off crying. Be out of Hawk’s sight.

Be somewhere where Hawk doesn’t have to think about that night at Golf N Stuff. Or how it felt to watch Demetri writhe on the floor. Or the streams of vomit that ripped from Hawk’s stomach as soon as he got home.

Or what he did to himself in the wee hours of the morning, when no one—not his mother, not Cobra Kai, not Sensei Kreese—was around to see.

But when Hawk glances over now, Demetri is smiling.

Not a contemptuous sneer, or a pained grimace. A full-on grin, splitting his cheeks and stretching much wider than the situation calls for.

Hawk inhales sharply.

Demetri shakes his head, laughing. “It’s almost endearing, you know. What a tryhard you are.”

He squares his jaw, refusing to budge as Demetri advances on him. “I thought I made it pretty clear what I think about you. You want another reminder?”

Hawk balls his fists, trying not to think about how hard the words are to force out. How hard he’s working to keep the iron shell he’s built around himself intact.

A strange smell hovers around Demetri. Acrid and metallic, like he’s spent too much time mucking around inside one of those computers he’s so besotted with.

“How revoltingly naïve.” Green eyes burn into him like acid, the glint behind them unlike anything he’s ever seen. “You thought you’d break my arm once and be done with me?

Hawk finds himself backing away.

“I’m not going to make it that easy for you, Hawk.”

Something in the way Demetri spits his new name finally gives him clarity.

“So what the fuck do you want from me?” he spits. “Why did you come here?”

“I came here because you were right. About everything.”

Any response is snatched from Hawk’s mouth.

For several seconds, all he can do is stare. Demetri smirks, apparently reveling in getting a leg up.

Hawk is so confused that he can’t even find it in himself to be angry. A strangled “what?” is all that comes out, pulling a snigger from his adversary.

“You think you’ve got it all figured out. Becoming the scariest fighter in the Valley. Making everyone quiver at the sight of you. Doing whatever you like because people aren’t brave enough to tell you no. Becoming your badass karate teacher’s little golden child. Getting rid of your weaknesses. Getting rid of me. But there’s one thing you got wrong.”

Typical Demetri. Monologuing around the point.

But Hawk is, nonetheless, finding his confusion turning to intrigue.

The mopey kicked puppy routine had gotten unbearably tedious. At least Demetri finally has the decency to give Hawk some variety.

“Oh, yeah?” He curls his lip. “What’s that?”

Demetri casually leans on Hawk’s dresser, like this is nothing more than a Friday night video game session.

“You think I avoid fights because I’m scared. But that’s not true anymore.” And there’s that grin again—that wide, unnerving grin that looks like it was pasted on from another human being’s face. The sort of manic look that would never in a thousand years belong on Demetri Alexopoulos.

“I avoid fights because I know who’s worth fighting. And who’s worth hurting.”

Well, that’s new.

Hawk narrows his eyes, trying to piece together if this is all some kind of trick.

“See, Eli, you were right that the world isn’t kind to people who get too soft.” Demetri starts sauntering over again, and that odd, metallic smell strengthens. “Or losers. Or weaklings. Or people who admit defeat. Give in too easily. Run off cowering and scared. So I’m shaking all that off. Next time I fight, I won’t lose.”

As Hawk pieces everything together, he scowls.

“So that’s what you want?” he hisses. “A rematch? Like you’d stand a chance.”

“So touchy. Do you only think of people in terms of whether you can beat them in a fight now? Boooooring.”

Demetri clicks his tongue disapprovingly. It’s a mocking gesture he’s been doing since they were little, but now something about it feels chilling.

Hawk’s back bumps his bedroom wall. Demetri’s closing in on him.

Fucking hell—he’s getting fed up with this cat-and-mouse. Why is he even entertaining this stupid nerd again?

It’s not like he gives a shit about him anymore. Then he wouldn’t snap his arm in half.

“Fuck off, Demetri!” he roars. “I fucking hate you. I don’t give a shit about anything you have to say! Get the hell out of my house, or I swear to god I’ll break your arm again.”

He fills the words with fire and force and poison, hoping something will hurt Demetri enough to make him go.

He can’t cave again. Not after he’s worked this hard to oust Demetri and everything he represents from his life.

Not after he’s severed Demetri’s bone with his own hands and smiled with his friends about it.

That should’ve been the last straw. That should’ve been what sent Demetri running for good, abandoning everything they’d once had to save himself.

But it didn’t. It fucking didn’t.

Demetri takes another step into his space, curling his lip. “You’re full of shit.”

“Fuck you.” Eli returns his stare, baring his teeth. “How are you so sure?”

“Because you hesitated.”

Hawk goes rigid.

“I begged you to stop.” Demetri’s hands slide onto the wall on either side of him, trapping him. “And you thought about it. You didn’t break my arm until all your psychotic teammates goaded you on. If you really hated me?” His voice drops to a breathy whisper. “You wouldn’t have even thought twice.”

“You don’t know shit.”

Demetri snickers.

“Poor little Eli. You’ve always sucked at arguing when you get backed into a corner.”

“I still broke it,” Hawk growls. “You know I can do it. Easily. So how are you stupid enough that you’re still fucking with me? You some kind of masochist?”

“You still care about me, Eli.” They’re inches apart now, Demetri leering over Hawk. “You never got over me not wanting to join your little club of sociopaths. Whenever there’s a rumble, you can’t stay away from me. And you want to know what I think?”

“Shut up.”

Demetri’s voice is husky in Hawk’s ear. “You wouldn’t hurt me when there’s no one to show off to.”

Hawk’s done with this.

He lunges, shoving Demetri’s chest and flying at him with an outstretched fist. He waits for that gratifying moment of shock—the familiar shift in Demetri’s features as he realizes yet again Hawk has no intention of going easy on him.

Demetri doesn’t even blink as he moves out of the way.

Hawk course-corrects, swiveling and diving for Demetri again. He throws the fastest punch he can manage straight at Demetri’s jaw.

Why the hell won’t he give up?

Demetri’s fantastic at giving up. He always has been. He gave up on standing up to bullies and he gave up on Cobra Kai and he gave up on Sensei Kreese.

So why won’t he give up on Hawk?

Demetri doesn’t dodge this time. He only swerves, allowing the fist to graze his chin.

He lets out a hiss of pain—angry, but not surprised.

Without warning, Demetri’s hands shoot up. Hawk freezes as long fingers snake across the skin of his arm.

The next second he’s screaming, Demetri’s hands twisting until his skin burns. The other boy’s grip tightens, thrusting him toward the floor.

He’s stealing my fucking moves again.

And frustratingly, he can do them fast. Hawk barely manages to use his other arm to shove Demetri off, stumbling back.

Even one moment of disorientation is too long. Demetri charges again, teeth bared like a wild animal.

One arm slams him against his bedroom wall while the other digs into his chest, squeezing the air out of him. And Hawk hates to admit it, but Demetri’s training-broadened shoulders have a terrifying amount of power behind them.

Nothing he can’t handle. Hawk’s taken on bigger opponents before.

He squirms in Demetri’s grip, his own arms loosening enough for his hands to make a grab for the taller boy’s throat. Then Demetri’s pinning hand is gone, slipping in and out of his jacket in what feels like less than a heartbeat.

Something cold and sharp presses Hawk’s throat. His hands drop, tensing against the wall.

“What the fuck…?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you, Eli.” Demetri tilts his head, pouting mockingly. “But you make it so damn hard to talk to you. Can’t do a thing without you coming at me like some kind of rabid coyote.”

“So you pull a…are you fucking insane?”

“Like you’re one to talk, Mr. Red Hulk Rage Issues.” The pout morphs into a smirk. “Clearly, you’re not above playing dirty, using that sad little Eli voice of yours to get out of trouble. Figured it was time I caught up.”

Hawk feels something sticky dripping down his neck. His breath hitches in his throat.

He aims a hit at Demetri’s stomach. The taller boy bends with it, and the blade presses harder.

“Oh, come now.” Demetri tuts disapprovingly. “Don’t make me slit your throat.”

Hawk hardens his expression, channeling everything in him into hiding the shock.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I don’t think you’re in a great place to test that.”

And he’s right. Hawk hates it, but he’s right.

This isn’t the Demetri he knows better than the back of his hand. The Demetri he knows so uncomfortably well that he convinced himself over and over and over that it meant he was sick of the fucking geek.

This isn’t grounded, rational, sensible Demetri. Something’s snipped his threads, made him start fraying at the edges.

He’s unraveling, floating in an ether where the pragmatic and the path of least resistance that he made his life philosophy are losing their appeal. He’s…

Well, it seems he’s done some script-flipping of his own. Decided—perhaps on a whim—to overhaul everything Hawk knew and replace it with something cold and alien and completely fucking unpredictable.

Was this how Demetri felt, that day Hawk showed up at school with spiked hair and a conniving sneer? Is this some kind of payback?

He doesn’t care if this new boy with a knife to his throat killed and gutted the friend he grew up with. It doesn’t matter anymore. That relationship only ever got in the way, anyhow.

He truly could not care less. Honest.

The only emotion he feels is annoyance that this new opponent will be harder to match, with erratic moves and a quickly-thinning conscience.

This Demetri isn’t pulling any punches. One stupid or sloppy move, and Hawk will be on the floor gurgling his life out.

He’s never taken Demetri for someone impulsive, but perhaps he just had a talent for controlling his most brutal and primal urges—for his own safety, if nothing else. Perhaps he’s lost this ability.

Hawk wonders what it says about him that he isn’t bothered by this at all. If anything, he finds the whole concept exhilarating.

Fighting Demetri had gotten so boring. Now, at last, they’re on equal footing.

Regardless, there could be a trace of the Old Demetri yet. He might be able to use that.

“Put the fucking knife away or I’ll call the cops,” Hawk snarls. “Think you’ll get into Stanford with a police report on your permanent record? Or whatever fucking nerd school you’re trying to—”

“With what phone?” Demetri interrupts. “The one you left on the coffee table downstairs so it won’t distract you from wailing on your stupid bag?”

Fuck. How did Demetri even notice shit like that?

Hawk tries not to let the dismay show.

“When my mom gets home, she’ll—”

“Mommy’s not coming for you, Eli.” Demetri’s smirk widens. “Mommy’s getting drunk with all her friends to forget her unfulfilled suburban picket fence life with her nasty, violent delinquent of a son. And Mommy’s going to crash at Michelle Galinski’s house, just like she has every Friday night for the past 10 years. And oh dear…Daddy’s out of town on his top-of-the-month business trip? Looks like no one’s coming to save you.”

Fuck that. He can save himself.

Hawk makes a grab for Demetri’s wrist, other hand clawing at the arm compressing his chest. Demetri seamlessly lifts the elbow of his knife-holding arm and jabs the bony appendage into Hawk’s skin.

The knife blade doesn’t even falter, pressing more firmly into Hawk’s neck. A sting, and he feels something warm trickle toward his chest.

The scent from earlier intensifies, and Hawk realizes abruptly that it must have been blood.

“Mmmm-mmmm.” Demetri purses his lips and shakes his head, like he’s scolding a disobedient child. “It’ll make it much easier for both of us if you don’t act up. I really don’t want to cut your throat, but I will.”

As Demetri sneers down at him, Hawk realizes too late that he couldn’t cover his alarm.

“What? Don’t think I’d actually hurt you?”

The taller boy fiddles with the knife, sending little pricks of pain rippling through Hawk’s neck.

“I guess you know how it feels now,” he purrs.

Hawk spits in Demetri’s face, sudden fury overtaking him.

This pathetic nerd’s not going to make him feel bad now. Not after everything he’s done to crush the part of himself that possibly could feel bad.

“Fuck you.”

And slowly, never once breaking his gaze, Demetri licks Hawk’s saliva off his chin. The dim hallway light just catches the moisture on his face.

“Keep it in your pants, Moskowitz. We’re not there yet.”

Now Demetri’s definitely fucking with him.

It’s growing tiresome. Nonetheless, he doesn’t want that cut in his neck getting any wider.

There’s something distinctly unnerving about the way Demetri’s eyes are boring into him, sizing him up with a kind of cold contempt. Looking at him like he’s nothing more than some ugly insect to crush under his shoe.

It’s the sort of callousness that Hawk has never once—not in the entire time he’s known Demetri—been the target of.

And maybe he’ll admit it. He dislikes it for more than just the fact it throws him off.

Demetri is spiraling into someone unrecognizable, and the sheer foreignness of the whole process makes Hawk shudder.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Hawk’s voice is small and weak. Like Eli’s.

He doesn’t care.

His entire sense of reality—every absolute, irrefutable truth he’s ever attached to himself and his life and his oldest friend—is uprooting and spinning out of control, and it’s not like anything fucking matters anymore.

Demetri laughs—a sharp, hollow sound devoid of any real humor.

“Like you’re one to talk. I know what you did to Brucks.”

Hawk’s blood freezes.

“Yeah, that’s right.” Demetri’s knife slides from the cut on Hawk’s neck, beginning to tease the underside of his chin. “Mitch told us what happened. And I damn well noticed when Brucks stopped showing up to school. Nice of your war criminal sensei to help you cover that up.”

Hawk’s breath comes in quick, short gasps.

Of course Demetri put two and two together. Of course he’d gone snooping so he could find something else to hang over Hawk’s head.

And the fall of that knife might be worse than the one currently tickling his jaw.

Part of him hates it. Hates being reminded of that day and hates being reminded what he’s capable of. Hates remembering the sight of a living, breathing person crumpling to the floor, and realizing they would never get up again.

But Hawk isn’t stupid. If anyone can play Demetri’s games, it’s the person who knows him better than anyone in the world.

“Demetri.” He keeps his tone as calm and non-abrasive as he can. “Who else’s blood is on your knife?”

Because it was still wet when Demetri shoved it up against him. And Demetri’s a moron if he thinks Hawk missed that.

“Ah. And we finally get to that.” Demetri chuckles, gently tracing Hawk’s jawline with the honed edge. “You see…the difference between you and me, Eli, is that I don’t need anyone’s help to hide my bodies.”

His heart drops to his feet.

“What did you do?”

“Not any worse than you.” Demetri cocks his head. “I hurt someone who deserved it.”

“Demetri.” Hawk steels his voice. “What did you do?”

Because whatever it was, Hawk sure as hell needs to take the proper precautions to make certain he isn’t next.

“Stopped at the convenience store on the way over here.” Demetri follows the knife with his eyes as he talks, expression almost affectionate. “Ran into one of Kyler’s old buddies from the wrestling team. One of the kids who used to call us fags, remember? He thought it would be fun to shove me around. So I pretended I was running my ass away, and got him to chase me somewhere a little more…private.”

Hawk gapes at him.

“Did you really…?”

“Shanked the asshole like a pig. He was so surprised he didn’t even fight back. And let me tell you, it was the most fun I’ve had in a while.”

And there’s that laugh again—the broken, disjointed chortles that feel so jarringly out-of-place. Green eyes shining with a frenetic light that makes Hawk’s hands grow slick with sweat.

Demetri leans in again, knife held steady as his lips brush Hawk’s ear.

“I know how it feels, you know. I know what it is to get so angry that you don’t even know what your body’s doing until it’s too late. Watch the life fade out of another human being’s eyes. Realize you like it. Sit there panicking about being some kind of inhuman monster and then suddenly realizing you don’t fucking care. And I suppose…I suppose that’s another reason you were right. There is a certain freedom in embracing that the world is cruel and cutthroat and unforgiving. In finally unmuzzling the wild animal thrashing around inside you and letting it hunt the way it was always meant to.”

Hawk shudders.

Sensei Kreese promised no one would ever find out about Brucks. Staged some kind of car accident or binge-drinking tragedy or drug OD or some other way stupid teenagers die all the time. Kyler was barred from the funeral, with Kreese worried (probably reasonably) that the dumbass would let something slip.

Kreese told the class that if anyone snitched, he’d be more than willing to look the other way as they met the same fate as Brucks.

Hawk hated how much he enjoyed it. He hated how after the deed was done, he couldn’t find a scrap of guilt in his psyche. It made him feel detached from himself—the abstract idea that doing that to another person was bad, but the complete lack of any emotions to back it up.

But that’s who he is now. No going back, he supposes.

Perhaps, on some level, he figured Demetri would pick up on this and leave him alone. Decide that Hawk’s path was too dark and too dangerous for his pasty basement nerd tastes, and stay huddled away with the Miyagi Dos singing kumbaya.

That would probably be best for him, anyways. Hawk still doesn’t know what other horrific shit he has it in him to do, especially when his victim pleaded so hard for mercy that would never come. When Brucks’ fruitless begging gave him an unmistakable rush.

And yet here Demetri is, claiming he was in a similar position. Claiming he lost control.

It isn’t that Demetri can’t put on an act if he needs to. But on some level, Hawk’s always been able to tell when his best friend is exaggerating or embellishing to make a story more interesting. There’s a kind of snarky undertone he uses, always giving that he isn’t completely serious. Subtle, but easy to pick up if you’re familiar with it.

There’s none of that here. If anything, this is the kind of emotional vulnerability Demetri never displays intentionally.

Until now, apparently.

Hawk bites his lip. “You’re not lying, are you?”

“You’re so cute.” The tip of the knife jabs into the underside of Hawk’s chin. “You thought I was some…what? Some sissy little do-gooder? The pinnacle of morality and mercy and all great virtues? No, no.” He giggles. “I’ve always been as fucked up as you. I only managed to keep it buried longer.”

Hawk scowls, suddenly remembering exactly who he’s talking to.

“Give me a fucking break. You joined the pussy-ass ‘defense only’ karate dojo. Your entire philosophy is about being sissy little do-gooders. Like you’d have the balls to pull even half the shit Cobra Kai—”

The knife flies back to the wound in his throat, Demetri using his arm to ram Hawk harder into the wall.

“You think I ever gave a flying fuck about Miyagi-Do?” he spits. “You think I’m some slavering pet like you, tripping over my little lapdog paws to appease my sensei’s every command? You think these asinine karate wars ever mattered to me? No.” He shoves his face into Hawk’s, blood on his breath. “You’re the one so obsessed with following orders that you can’t even remember who you were before you became some demented old man’s attack dog. You’re the one so drunk on loyalty to a fucking karate dojo that you can’t see none of this shit matters.”

Hawk bares his teeth, hoping with everything he has that Demetri won’t notice him shaking.

“Easy for you to say, when you pussied out after one punch in the face,” he sneered. “Of course you want to believe all of this is pointless when you’re on the losing team. But I’m not like you, Demetri. I’m no quitter.”

“Oh, how admirable.” The knife presses a little harder. “Tell me then, Hawk. How’s being on the same team as Kyler? As fucking Robby Keene? You excited for the chance to help them hurt Miguel again?”

Red-hot rage rips through Hawk. He lifts a leg and knees Demetri’s shin as hard as he can.

Demetri barely even winces. His other foot kicks up, ramming the side of Hawk’s knee. Hawk scrambles for balance, heart pounding as he just avoids falling into the knifepoint.

“Thought that’d hit a nerve.”

“Fuck you!” Hawk spits. “Keene was from your fucking dojo! You fought with him, too!”

“Not since he hurt Miguel.”

Demetri’s voice is frigid, rivaling the most biting winter rains. Every inch of him drips with a venomous hatred that Hawk has never seen before.

Not directed at him. Not directed at anyone.

“And now he’s in your dojo. Funny how that works.” Demetri clicks his tongue. “Guess your roaring rampage of revenge was all for naught.”

“It wasn’t.” Hawk curls his lip. “You were all responsible, and we got our paypack. It’s not our fault Miguel wasn’t grateful.”

“Ooooh, gotta love the Hawk’s impeccable logic! ‘Ah, yes, I think I will terrorize everyone in this dojo except for the person who actually almost killed my friend, who I will agree to team up with for some reason!’” Demetri returns his sneer. “Are you really such an obedient little bitch that you do whatever your precious sensei tells you? Even when you damn well know it makes no sense? You’re more pathetic than I thought.”

“Park and Keene know their place,” Hawk hisses. “They know I’m the alpha. They answer to me.”

Demetri cocks his head, looking amused.

“Even if I were to believe that. Do you like sharing a class with those assholes? Do you like knowing that if one of them were to get their ass handed to them by a Miyagi-Do or an Eagle Fang—by Miguel—that you’d be expected to rescue them?”

“I’d do it.” Hawk grits his teeth. “I wouldn’t like it, but I’d fucking do it. Sensei Kreese gave Sensei Lawrence and the others a chance to join back up with Cobra Kai, and they said no. Miguel chose his side.”

Demetri sighs, expression almost pitying.

“I guess ‘Cobra Kai for life’ trumps a Cobra’s desire to beat another Cobra into the damn ground. Kind of a shame. I think you’d enjoy hurting them.”

What Demetri said earlier circles back into his mind.

I avoid fights because I know who’s worth hurting.

Hawk straightens, keeping his composure.

“Sensei says we need all the allies we can get,” he says. “Even if we don’t like them. I’m putting up with Kyler and Robby long enough to win the tournament, and that’s it. Then I’ll find some way to weed them out.”

“I doubt it.” Demetri smiles down at him. If it weren’t for the knife, Hawk would punch his teeth in. “Contrary to how you act, I know you’re a smart guy. If you knew how to get rid of them, you would have already. No, Eli…” His voice drops to a purr. “You’re stuck with them, aren’t you?”

Hawk feels sick.

Leave it to Demetri to pinpoint his deepest fears—a karate clan filled with the worst people Hawk knew. Not a single friend to speak of, and a sensei with constantly divided attention.

Even Tory was turning out to be a fucking snake in the grass. She certainly took to the boy who nearly killed her ex with not an ounce of guilt.

And yet she believed with all of her being that Demetri deserved a broken arm for what Robby Keene did. That he was a pussy for crying out in pain. Actions didn’t matter to her—only the name branded across the merchandise you wore and the color of your gi at tournaments.

For the first time, the thought makes Hawk seethe.

All this time she’d seemed nothing but tough and fearless, but all she was was a shallow bitch who cared more about rank and status than a damn thing you actually did.

She was always going to hate Sam LaRusso for being rich and popular. She was always going to hate Miyagi Do for its association with LaRusso. But the second Keene bailed? Put on a belt with a cobra on it and showed off his snake-snatching skills?

She couldn’t wait to get on his dick. The filthy slut.

And suddenly Hawk realizes that he hates her, too. He hates so many of the people who are supposed to be his allies. But he can’t afford to think like that. And most of all, he can’t afford to let Demetri see it.

He glowers up at his ex-best-friend, keeping his gaze stony. “And why do you care? You have your posse of Miyagi losers to pal around with. Why do you give a shit what I do? Just go home to your little—”

“I left Miyagi-Do!”

The words come out in a forceful scream that practically knocks Hawk even further into the wall.

The sheer disdain in Demetri’s eyes for the group he had so cozily assimilated into sends Hawk reeling. He’d never—not in this lifetime or the next—expect Demetri to toss the whole lot of them out like garbage.

Demetri breaks into another grin, reveling in Hawk’s stunned silence.

“See, that’s another difference between you and I, Eli. I don’t need some washed-out old man telling me what to believe and how to fight. I can think for myself. And frankly, I got sick of the ‘safety in numbers’ business when it seemed ‘the numbers’ were always the ones who got to pick my enemies for me. And no one—” His eyes burn into Hawk. “No one decides that but me. I hurt who I like when I like, and I’ll fucking gut anyone who gets in my way.”

Hawk exhales slowly, keeping his scowl pulled tight.

“So…what?” Hawk sneers. “You’re going to fight Cobra Kai by yourself now? That’s so fucking stupid.”

“Not all of them. Some of your class are just brainwashed idiots who don’t know what they’re doing.” He sighs, shaking his head. “And you, Eli…well, I think you’ve lost sight of who your true enemy is. I was hoping I could help.”

“You really bounced?” Hawk narrows his eyes, still trying to make sense of everything. “After everything, you…just up and left?”

It can’t be that easy. He knows it wouldn’t be in Cobra Kai.

“Yeah.” Demetri shrugs. “And now I have way more time for important things.”

“I don’t get it.” Hawk’s frown deepens. “Why would you strike off on your own? Did something happen?”

“You happened.”

Short. Simple. Concise.

Completely baffling.

Not that that was anything new today.

Maybe it’s Hawk’s imagination, but the knife loosens a little.

“Don’t you get it?” For the first time all night, something like genuine anguish prods through Demetri’s voice. “I meant what I said. I never gave a rat’s ass about the karate wars, or the stupid dojo feuds. All I ever wanted was to be worth your fucking time again.”

All Hawk can do is stare.

It doesn’t make sense. None of this makes any fucking sense.

“And sure,” Demetri concedes after a moment. “At first, I wanted to do right by Mr. LaRusso. By Sam. They were the ones who taught me. Toughened me up into something worthwhile. Worked with all the shit you thought was a lost cause. But it was always a means to an end to stay relevant to you. Then after what happened with Moon, I genuinely thought the Miyagi-Do philosophy would help you. But I learned soon enough that you were in too deep for appealing to the Old Eli to work. No, I had to speak to you in your own language.”

He licks his lips as the knife starts to slide up Hawk’s neck again, dancing over the bottom of his chin and onto the plump skin of his lips.

“Aggression. Violence. Dominance.” He chuckles. “Wasn’t my go-to, but if it got your attention, I could make it work. And I guess I did, huh? I riled you up enough that you couldn’t leave me alone.”

“You wanted to piss me off?”

“If that’s what it took to keep you coming back for more.” And there it is again—that wide, sadistic grin that feels so brutally wrong. “You can leave me, Eli. You can disown me. You can shit on everything we had and make my life a living hell. But you can’t bring yourself to just ignore me. Because you’re so weak that you can’t bear to refuse the bait when I press your buttons. Because as much as you claim to hate me, you can’t move on from me.”

“And now you ditch your team to…what? Fight me on your own?” Hawk matches Demetri’s grin with one of his own. “I’d wreck you. And deep down, you know it.”

“So presumptuous.” Demetri shakes his head, tutting. “Frankly, I came here tonight because I’m sick of fighting you.”

“Says the one with a knife to my throat.”

“That’s because you don’t fucking listen without me having to resort to extreme measures,” Demetri hisses. “I think we’re a lot closer to being on the same page than you think. And maybe if you dropped this whole tribalism bullshit, you’d see that.”

So Demetri wants a truce. Hawk should have known.

He’s not surprised. But the way they arrived here?

Now that’s a twist.

It’s still an insane concept. Like he’s supposed to let his greatest enemy off the hook. Let Demetri get away with all the ways he’s undermined him and humiliated him and put the Old Eli—the weak, pathetic nerd Eli—on blast for all the world to see.

But if Demetri really left Miyagi Do…

Hawk finds himself wondering how much of his rage against the Miyagi Dos is his own, and how much is Sensei Kreese’s. And if Demetri’s truly deserted “the enemy,” does Hawk still have to hate him?

Does he even want to?

Demetri isn’t that pathetic, sniveling dweeb anymore. He’s crushed his old self as brutally as Hawk has.

Because the Demetri Hawk has known all his life could scarcely bring himself to cook with sharp knives, let alone use one to threaten another human being’s life.

Or take one.

But despite everything, something still doesn’t add up.

“I heard about your little rousing speech,” Hawk says. “About how important it was for Miyagi Do and Eagle Fang to unite against the ‘biggest assholes in the Valley.’ And now you’ve abandoned both of them. Was that all just a load of crap, then?”

Demetri is unfazed.

“Call me naïve, but I thought if Miguel and I were on the same team, you’d finally see some damn sense. You’d hurt me, sure. I’ve known that for a while. But I never thought you’d touch the kid you went on a vengeance quest for.” He shrugs. “Color me surprised when you wrote him off as just another enemy.”

“I told you.” Hawk works his fingers against the wall again, uneasiness trickling over his skin. “Miguel chose his side.”

“Be that as it may. I figured if you were so far gone that you were ready to wail on literally every person you used to be friends with, I needed to adjust my strategy.”

“For what?”

“For getting through to you. For getting you to tell the truth.”

And Hawk doesn’t want to think for too long about what truth Demetri has in mind.

“So you pull out a fucking knife.”

“Mhm.” Demetri snickers. “That’s how you communicate, yeah? Threats and intimidation?”

Hawk clenches his jaw. “I’m not scared of you.”

“Is that so.” The arm suddenly lifts from squeezing Hawk’s chest, long fingers seizing his wrist. He’s too surprised to pry them away.

He really should be expecting this kind of insane bullshit by now.

“Your pulse is going haywire, Eli,” Demetri murmurs. “Either you’re a liar, or something else has you energized. I wonder what that could be?”

It’s then Hawk’s mind fully catches up to its surroundings.

He rips his wrist away, pivoting away from the knife and sending a knee into Demetri’s ribs. The knife tip slices his cheek, but so be it. He’s endured worse.

Demetri gasps, stumbling back. Hawk makes a grab for the knife.

The taller boy is still too quick. He holds the weapon out of reach, using his other arm to thrust Hawk’s body back.

Before Demetri can do anything else, Hawk squats down and sweeps his leg. With a grunt, his opponent stumbles to the floor.

Something seizes Hawk’s ankles as he stands. He cries out as he’s yanked backward with surprising force, landing on the floor next to Demetri.

Hawk scrambles for the bed, trying to writhe out of Demetri’s grip and hoist himself up by the covers.

It’ll be over when I have the high ground.

What a stupid reference to think about.

It reminds him of the kind of game he and Demetri might have once played. Whoever made it onto the bed would get to be Obi-Wan, and whoever stayed on the floor would have to be Anakin, drowning in lava.

The idea leaves him feeling strange.

Demetri doesn’t let go, snarling like a hyena as he tries to tug Hawk back. The knife teases his skin, an imminent threat if he makes any moves too sudden.

He’d kick the annoying asshole away from him, but he doesn’t want the sole of his foot sliced open. If he can’t walk, he can’t fight.

Suddenly, Demetri cries out, grip loosening. In Hawk’s struggles, he must’ve rammed into a sensitive spot. He yanks himself free, scrambling onto the bed and frantically trying to plan his next move.

He realizes his mistake a half-second too late.

Demetri, gleefully bluffing, rises to his full height. Smirking, he pounces like a jaguar.

He lands heavily on Hawk’s stomach, slamming him against the bed. The back of his head smacks against the headboard, filling his vision with stars.

He barely has time to let out a pained gasp before Demetri’s knees are digging into his quadriceps, pinning him again. Growling, he aims a punch at Demetri’s throat.

His fist meets its target, pulling a strangled gasp. Hawk clasps his arms around Demetri’s torso, trying to thrust him off the bed.

For a moment they struggle, yanking and shoving wildly in an attempt to gain an advantage. Then Hawk feels long arms wrap around his back, bony fingers clutching at his throat.

The tingling pain of blade against skin, and Hawk realizes Demetri kept hold of his knife.

Whenever I think he’s finally going to drop that damned thing…

The knife jabs into him, strengthening its grip until he’s pressed flat on his back. At last Demetri loosens his grip, sizing up his victim with a satisfied beam.

Hawk squirms, bed creaking as he does his best to jostle Demetri off. The other boy holds fast, gazing down at him with a pitying look.

The blade digs in again, and Hawk’s struggles weaken.

“Come now. How many times do we have to go over this?”

“Let. Me. Go.”

“I don’t believe I was finished.”

Demetri tilts his head to the side, breaking into another crazed grin that sends dread trickling straight down to Hawk’s bones.

“Shut up Demetri.”

“I see you staring at me. All this time, and all these girls you tried so hard to fuck, and everything always comes back to your stupid middle school infatuation.”

“SHUT UP!”

Hawk squeezes his eyes shut, trying to bleach Demetri’s cold, smug expression from his mind.

“Right after you had your Bar Mitzvah, you asked me to kiss you. You figured since I already had mine, we were both adults now. And adults do grown-up things like kissing.”

“STOP IT!”

And suddenly Hawk is screaming at the top of his lungs because he knows where this is going. Because they were just stupid kids, and that can’t mean anything.

“I said of course I would, because I’d always liked you, Eli.” Demetri’s voice only grows louder—more insistent. “And I go in to give you a peck, and you grab my arms and stick your entire tongue in my mouth.”

“Shut the fuck up, Demetri!”

He feels something wet dribbling down his face, and wonders if the cut on his cheek got stretched wider in his and Demetri’s scuffle. It’s certainly stinging enough for it.

Unless…

Hawk wishes he could dissolve.

“I told you I’d kiss you a thousand more times if you wanted.” Demetri’s voice has grown sharper than his blade. “And I would have. And for a long while, I thought there might be the most infinitesimal possibility that you felt something, too. Now I know I was right.”

He laughs, the sound acrid and bitter and full of flint.

“Because even after everything, you’re still obsessed with me. You watch me across the lunchroom and pretend you’re ‘monitoring the enemy,’ but I know you miss me. You miss when I made you laugh, and you miss when I talked to people so you didn’t have to. You chase me around in every battle, but when it comes right down to it, you can’t hurt me in any significant way until you’re bullied into it. You pick fights with me so you can put your hands all over my body and not have anyone look at you askance for it.”

“FUCK YOU!”

Maybe if he screams loud enough, Demetri won’t pay too much attention to the wet trails smearing the blood from his cuts.

Caustic breath is hovering inches above Hawk, misting onto his lips. Still, he refuses to open his eyes.

“It must be exhausting, you know,” Demetri whispers. “Living your life in denial like that. Wearing your entire personality like some cheap Halloween costume and convincing yourself that’s a fulfilling existence. Don’t you want to be free?”

“I’m not hiding anything,” Hawk growls. “I do whatever I like. It’s not my fault you don’t like who I really am.”

“Who you really are, hmmm?” Demetri’s lips brush his earlobe, voice a barely-audible murmur. “So tell me the truth then, Eli. Do you still want me?”

The bluntness of the question almost blows a hole in his composure.

“Of course I don’t.”

“Stop fucking lying!”

All at once, Demetri’s voice is a deafening, furious scream again. The knife slices Hawk’s jaw.

Not enough to do any real harm, but enough to really hurt. Hawk freezes, held prisoner by the burst of sharp, sudden pain.

“It’s always lies, lies, lies with you,” Demetri snarls. “Fake name. Fake hair color. Fake personality. Fake interests. Fake friends who only kiss the ground you walk on because they’ve never seen you at your weakest. Fake relationships with girls you barely let know you—to the point you think they’d leave you for liking to code. And the absolute drivel you feed yourself that this goddamn farce is what you want to live in forever. You think you’re starring in some martial arts epic, and you’re so wrapped up in your stupid method acting that you never want to step offscreen. Like everyone’s on the edge of their seat about your pitiful life like it’s the fucking Truman Show. And at the end of the day? You’re still too much of a pussy to tell me the truth.”

Hawk’s skin tingles, shivers rippling through him. If his heart was pounding before, it’s thundering now.

Somehow it doesn’t feel like fear. He’s used to this new version of Demetri enough not to cower from him.

No, it’s something far worse. And Demetri knows it.

“You can’t hide from me.” The other boy’s tone drips with haughtiness, savoring the ability to confirm Hawk’s worst fears. “I see right through your bullshit. I always have. So I’ll ask you one more time. Do you want me?”

The knife slides down to Hawk’s throat again, pressing firmly.

“Lie and I’ll kill you.”

He’s probably bluffing. Maybe. Surely.

Perhaps it doesn’t matter anymore. Sprawled out on his childhood bed, underneath the only other person he frequently shared it with.

The person he used to watch sleep, wondering wistfully if the freak with the lip scar ever made it into his best friend’s dreams.

He opens his eyes and finally meets Demetri’s gaze, in all of its searing, insurmountable beauty.

“Yeah.”

He breathes it out quiet and fragile—a soft promise. A rare moment of openness that he lets free of his unbreakable shell.

Demetri drops the knife. It falls behind the bed, thumping onto the carpet below.

He swoops down, seizing Hawk’s neck and yanking him up. When their mouths meet, Hawk is nearly thrown back with the force of it.

Demetri kisses like a starved animal, lapping and nipping in a crazed frenzy. The weight of his muscle-toned body is crushing, locking Hawk firmly against the mattress.

He tastes like blood and cold steel and cruelty. Hawk shudders.

This time, he’s certain it isn’t fear. It’s a rush he only thought he could get from smashing his fists against plastic or skin, or feeling another person’s body go limp and lifeless underneath his.

And it’s ironic. The more Demetri tries to devour Hawk, the more Hawk wants to let it happen.

There’s an odd satisfaction to it, he thinks. Being completely at someone else’s mercy.

And Demetri isn’t fighting with any.

***

OKAY, time for some #authorrants because I feel like some of the choices I made in this fic are. Controversial, to say the least. Lmao.

So something that has bugged the crap out of me for a while now is people in this fandom acting like there is any world where Demetri would choose Robby over Miguel. I remember after S3 dropped, there was a lot of "dId tHeY fOrGeT tHe dEmEtRi-rObBy FrIeNdShIp" type sentiment floating around irt why Demetri didn't stay in contact with Robby the way Sam and the LaRussos did. Maybe it's because, I don't know, Robby threw the guy Demetri never actually stopped being close friends with over a balcony and almost killed him???

Like. Not that these showrunners don't ever forget things, but this absolutely is not one of them. Robby paralyzing Miguel is a BEYOND valid reason to sever ties with him, especially when you were just casual dojo bros for a couple months tops. When push came to shove, Demetri pretty unequivocally CHOSE MIGUEL. He brought him a comic book in the hospital! He was thrilled to see him back at school and picked up their friendship right where it left off! He DOES NOT VISIBLY FORGIVE ROBBY UNTIL MIGUEL DOES! Idk idk it just really riles me when people do not take Demetri and Miguel's friendship into account when discussing the Demetri-Robby relationship and why they stopped being friends when they did. Tbh I don't think it's that hot of a take to assume Demetri would have more loyalty to the guy who befriended him when he was a nobody and proceeded to be one of his closest ride-or-die friends for a whole-ass year over the guy he was casual buds with because they happened to share a karate instructor -_____- I could go on about this for several more paragraphs, but that's a rant for another day.

(As far as the LaRussos go, they were all closer to Robby and were basically his adoptive family, which is why they--particularly Sam--were willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and say the Miguel thing was an accident. Demetri didn't know Robby well enough to make that call, and had no actual proof it WAS an accident except for maybe Sam's word.)

Some other things to ramble about:

I remember in some interview a while back (I think with Martin Kove?) someone asked about Hawk and Marty or whoever was being interviewed said he was "on his way to being a serial killer" or smth. And Jacob's talked a little bit about the kind of escalating delinquent shit Hawk would get up to if he was never redeemed, etc. So going with that: Bold of y'all to assume the kid simping for Hawk since episode 1 wouldn't renounce his morals and join him on the path to villainy. Sorry but I truly believe Demetri's horniness for Hawk can and would win out over any ethical qualms in the end. Also Demetri is horny for violence and evil this is canon otherwise he would in fact not have simped for S3 Hawk so PAINFULLY BADLY god bless

Also this was partly inspired by those post-S3 jokes that were like "lol what happened to Brucks??? Did Hawk kill him???"...well, what if he did, tho? O_____O

Disclaimer that I promise I do not endorse the Tory slut-shaming!!! Tbh I didn't really wanna write it, but...I think given the circumstances, Hawk WOULD be pretty furious at her for getting chummy with Robby and "betraying" Miguel. And unfortunately, since he's a teenage boy with (canonical!) misogynistic tendencies...I do think that would most likely come across as slut-shaming D: But y'all have brains y'all know I don't condone everything I write about aknhdksuyhf (Murder is probably not something you should try at home either btw)

Hopefully I didn't make Hawk too weaksauce in this ^^; My excuses are a) I suck at writing fight scenes and tend to just want to get to the psychosexual dialogue and knife-teasing, so. If I rushed anything to get there I apologize. b) Going by the school fight, Hawk is indeed thrown off when Demetri takes the offensive (especially in a super dramatic kind of way) and his confused pause is in fact enough time for Demetri to get an advantage and c) The man is thrown off his game!!! Thrown off his groove, even!!! His sissy pussy nerd ex-friend shows up acting like a disturbed maniac and he is so O_____o about it that his moves are off!!! He's sucking a little but it's not his fault 💔It's Demetri's for subverting expectations 💔

I also feel like if Demetri started McFucking Losing It and was generally less grounded in the physical and rational world, physical pain wouldn't register quite as much. Like he's in his head enough now that he's kinda lost his grip on reality and things happening in the physical world don't seem as relevant or immediate, if that makes any sense? Also idk. Maybe after the arm break his pain tolerance just went up :O Anyways that's why he recovers pretty fast when Hawk DOES land a hit. Demetri is nuts now 💙

I will die on my hill that Demetri like. Really REALLY isn't as morally upstanding as people like to think XD Like I say this with love but from the top he's been a self-interested little shit who just happens to be extremely loyal to the very small handful of people he actually likes. My dudes, he didn't join Miyagi Do because he liked their philosophy better--he joined because they were less on board with punching him in particular in the face XD This dude saw Cobra Kai being fucks and playing dirty at the AVT and he STILL up and says "I wanna come back because I like the 'safety in numbers' aspect of joining a gang" XD I always got the vibe the "well at least I'm not an asshole LIKE YOU" he throws at Eli later is more because he likes to feel self-righteous. I say all of this as his biggest fan btw. I think more people should embrace the self-interested king he is and write about him and Eli being absolute dicks together instead of to each other 💖

I guess that's what I'm here for!!!

Anyways I think Demetri and Eli have the same potential to be absolutely horrific people, and I think we're all very lucky that Demetri was too lazy to challenge his comfort zone and stick with Cobra Kai XD We're very fortunate he happened to end up using his speed and his brains to help his friends who happened to be on the Good Guy Side rather than his friends who happened to be on the Bad Guy Side.

I also think people put WAY too much stock in Demetri's ability to staunchly stick with the good guys and have enough of a moral backbone to just keep opposing Eli's douchebaggery indefinitely. My mans is NOT that much of a saint, trust. From how quickly he forgave Eli for a HUGE number of atrocities, he seemed to be like. Waiting on his ass for Eli to come back to him. And if Eli never did???

I mean. Bruh. Someone you've been deeply in love with for years throws you out like last night's trash and just progressively starts being more and more awful to you??? You think it's feasible for my boy Demetri to stay strong and sane and reasonable forever, and just keep on fighting the good fight??? HELL NO. This dude is either a) quitting karate and moving schools so he doesn't have to deal with constantly being pummeled by the dude he's in love with or b) going completely fucking insane from the cognitive dissonance of being in love with a dude who constantly beats his ass.

Listen. I have been in love. If my friend who I was in love with turned evil and joined an evil karate school and started wailing on me all the time, I would either pull an Aisha and haul ass out of there or I would simply lose my mind and become evil. Go full Jinx from Arcane. Sorry if you're a hater who doesn't think Demetri Alexopoulos has it in him to go apeshit, but you're wrong and also boring. The funny kooky comic relief guys are always one thread away from losing their shit because everyone assumes because they're funny and kooky they have no depth and no end to their bullshit tolerance. I would know because I am one of these Guys in real life. Put some respecc on my boy's name and also give him another knife 🔪

For anyone looking at me askance like "Demetri doesn't have it in him to kill!" Yes he does. I'm sending him over to your house to stab you right now 🩵

No fr tho, like there was MURDER in this man's eyes when Kyler was bullying Eli in the library. There was MURDER in this man's eyes fighting Robby at the AVT in S4. I have full confidence that if he could get away with stabbing his enemies, he would. So would Eli but I feel like this is a less contested opinion.

Also this is interesting so it's something I might go into detail about in another post, but one thing I noticed while kinda brainstorming how Demetri would snap is that Demetri is loyal to people, while Eli is loyal to concepts and ideas.

Demetri I don't think is actually that married to or slavish about MD principles tbh. Demetri isn't really averse to violence conceptually (even back in S1 it's only ever about him disliking BEING hit, not disliking hitting people!!) and doesn't actually do the defense-only thing that often. Several times we see him instigate with Hawk, or help Sam instigate with CK in general. The times we see him stick his neck out to really help Miyagi Do, he seems like he's doing so more out of loyalty to his friends (namely Sam, Chris, and Nate--also Miguel irt the dojo team-up at the end of S3) than loyalty to Miyagi Do as a dojo.

Eli, meanwhile, is way more loyal to concepts he puts a lot of stock in than the people in his life who challenge this. He sees Cobra Kai as this almighty saving grace that is for LIFE, and he doesn't think twice about ditching Demetri and Miguel when they turn their backs on it. He stays in this dojo even as his friends leave and it fills up with people he hates, and his sensei dismisses and ignores his concerns. Because this dojo saved him from his horrible, bullied life, and now he feels like he owes everything to the Cobra Kai name, despite who's actually behind the name. Also why I think Demetri uses "my karate dojo needs your help!" as the selling point to get Eli to join MD in S4. HIS motivation is probably much more that he just wants him and Eli to stay together, but he knows Eli values dojo loyalty above everything, so Dem kinda makes it more about that than friendship.

Anyways! That's all for now! The whole fic should be up on my AO3 sometime in December :3

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demetriandelibinaryboyfriends · 6 months

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@ckhalloween23

Here is my submission for the Week 2 prompt "Witches"--a preview from a new fic I'm working, Flower of Lemon and Feather of Shrike! I decided to do a deep dive into Yasmine's drastically OOC Season 4 behavior, and explore a scenario where its origin is...a bit more sinister than poor writing or repressed lesbianism aknskfnhdrf

This one isn't just for the YasMoon girlies, but in fact for all the girlies who thought Yasmine Nolastname was big boi screwed over in S4, and deserved better!!! Even the foulest of bitchy bullies don't deserve to be reduced to a trophy girlfriend and a prop for a male character's storyline, especially when said male character is a pretty garbage boyfriend when it comes right down to it </3 (More on that later!!!)

This one is also for the MoonPiper girlies, because god, were we fucked over too D: Also actually (mostly) canon compliant, except H*wkM**n never ever get back together and stay broken up forever and always amen peace and love on planet earth <3 <3 <3 <3

There's no world where I will acknowledge this stupid ship got undeadified like a horrendous, nonsensical, chemistry-devoid zombie when it had long since run its narrative course and played its role in both Eli and Moon's arcs can you tell awehakureyigsrf

This is Moon's POV and Yasmine and Moon-centric, but I left the shippier parts ambiguous since I wanted to make something that my non-shipper friends can enjoy too ^^; There are feelings on Moon's side but as far as I'm concerned that's basically canon lmao like did you SEE that girl in S4??? She was so thirsty for Blondie that I'm genuinely shocked the showrunners didn't tell Hannah Kepple to stop kanhdskufhd Definitely tried to leave Yasmine's feelings more up in the air, though! Interpret her however you like ^^

Fic preview under the cut! As always, moodboard pic credits available upon request!

***

The phone line cuts off, and Yasmine’s name disappears from the screen.

Moon curls into her pillow, erupting in ragged sobs. She can’t remember the last time she’s felt this helpless.

This entirely consumed by pure, raw emotion.

Her mind is a whirlpool, everything Yasmine spat at her twisting around and around and around. None of it seems real.

Because Moon can’t wrap around her head around meaning nothing to Yasmine. She can’t make sense of a world where she was only a pawn—someone for the repressed queen bee to “experiment” with. Someone to cater to Yasmine’s whims and fulfill her every desire and ask nothing in return.

Yasmine was everything to Moon. Moon was nothing to Yasmine. And how did that make any fucking sense?

Moon’s hands knot into the covers, a scream ripping from her throat. Somewhere amid the blinding torrent of heartbreak and rage, she finds herself tearing incense sticks from her drawers and lighting candles with shaking hands.

She always swore to herself she’d never touch the rear section of her spellbook, pages marked with a black tab. But if Yasmine can’t keep her promises, why should Moon?

Her chest burns as she recites the incantation.

“By flower of lemon and feather of shrike I bid you know what this pain is like”

“Maybe we could meet in the middle? Like a…sexual Venn diagram?”

Yasmine’s face twists in disgust. Moon only rolls her eyes.

She would tell Demetri to stop being a creep, but she knows he doesn’t mean it. Just playing the part he thinks he should after girls have started noticing him.

And Moon knows what it’s like to hide your authentic self to better fit a mold. She’s eternally thankful Piper taught her better.

“So what’s under the blanket?” she prompts.

As Demetri begins his demonstration, Yasmine’s expression shifts. “Not bad. My parents might not have to pay for an A this time.”

Moon can’t help feeling a bit surprised.

So Yasmine’s taking the “be a little nicer” advice to heart, at least. A hint of gratitude toward anyone is a first.

And then the soccer ball comes.

Her panic strips away her new cordiality. Moon knows exactly where her friend’s mind goes.

She’s about to be the “dumb blonde” again—the vapid, useless pretty girl who always has to bribe her way to a pass. And it makes her feel so disgustingly helpless.

“Do you have another one?” A last-ditch attempt to save her grade without her family’s intervention.

As she watches the altercation play out, Moon could slice the tension between Hawk and Demetri with a knife. She’s never quite fancied herself an empath, but there’s something hauntingly familiar about the way Demetri’s entire body is trembling.

She sees herself, hunched up and bawling her eyes out. She sees the overpowering grief that tore free a side Moon didn’t even know she had.

Thank the gods nothing came of that episode.

When Sam arrives, Moon gives her a pleading look. Off she goes to rescue their big-mouthed friend, prepared to cut into Hawk with all the steel Moon could never quite work up.

“Are we gonna fail?”

The whisper in Moon’s ear is so lost. So broken.

Yasmine’s always been a mess. Moon supposes she should be flattered she’s one of the only people who’s ever gotten to see it.

“No.” She sighs. “Demetri’s smart. He’ll figure something out.”

“You’ll never guess what I saw yesterday.”

Sam leans over at the start of history class, smirk dancing across her lips.

“What?”

“Yasmine and Demetri are a thing.”

Moon knits her brow, confused.

“What’re you talking about?”

Sam sniggers. “I turned a corner in the hall and saw them making out, clear as day.”

Despite her best efforts, she can’t hide her alarm.

“Oh my god. Does she know he’s…?”

Demetri’s passes at Yasmine weren’t exactly genuine. Moon always thought Yas would be more intuitive about that sort of thing, especially considering the way she talked about Demetri when he first started hanging out with them.

“He’s what?”

“Um…never mind.”

It wasn’t Moon’s place to divulge Demetri’s business, especially when he hadn’t even figured it out himself. Or…didn’t want to admit certain things to himself, at least.

“Yasmine was pissed when Miguel and I caught them,” Sam goes on. “It was so funny. She insisted she’d never go out with him, but…you know. Unless you slipped me some LSD at lunch and I’m hallucinating, I have my doubts.”

She laughs again, clearly tickled pink by the whole thing. Moon only frowns.

“I’m so confused. All she’s ever done is complain about him.”

Her friend shrugs. “Denial’s not just a river in Egypt, I guess.”

“No, like. She thinks basically every single one of his interests is annoying. And she told me once that listening to him talk is like when you hit your brakes too fast and your whole car screeches.”

“Well, you know Yas. She thinks she’ll combust if she says something nice about anyone.”

“Right, but…” Moon narrows her eyes. “She’s picky as hell when it comes to dating. I, um…I would know. And Demetri’s the furthest possible thing from her type.”

“Opposites attract?”

“Not like that. I saw him try to explain basic particle physics to her one time and she nearly went to sleep. And that’s only the tip of the iceberg.”

“Maybe it’s just a physical thing. We both know how crazy hormones can be, right?”

Moon hopes for Yasmine’s sake that Sam is right. Otherwise…

Well, there’s probably no need to entertain that possibility.

“I love it when you talk nerdy.”

Moon’s so caught up in Yasmine’s sweeping, graceful movements that it takes a moment for the statement to sink in.

She always smiles when she watches her best friend. She can’t help it. Yasmine moves like a mountain waterfall—majestic and larger than life, all while flowing so seamlessly.

It isn’t until Yasmine lets Demetri pull her in, giggling like an elementary schooler, that Moon’s smile falls.

No, you don’t.

Because Moon knows Yasmine, and she knows she has a hatred for “nerd shit” that could rival Hawk at his worst.

She despises anything that makes her feel small. Unimportant. Insignificant.

Moon remembers the look on Yasmine’s face when Sam leaned away from their popular table, exchanging easy chemistry banter with Aisha. She remembers the dejected pout when lunchroom conversations turned to AP homework, Sam and Demetri so engrossed in what Yasmine called “stupid school garbage” that they forgot the blonde girl was even there.

Because as much as Yasmine makes out like she couldn’t care less about anything, she doesn’t like to be reminded that she isn’t book smart. That the math and science that come naturally to Sam and Aisha and Demetri and even Hawk don’t make a lick of sense to her.

Sure, Demetri’s knowledge was useful when it got Yas a good grade. But on its own?

It only reminds her how inadequate she feels. How inadequate Moon knows she’s always felt.

And it was good, in a way, that Aisha tearing Yasmine’s popularity asunder showed her that the world didn’t revolve around her. But Moon senses the deep hurt Yasmine still carries, seeing glimpses of the worlds she’ll never know how to be part of.

So when Yasmine says she loves Demetri’s “nerdspeak,” lust and desire rolling off her in waves, it feels like she was the victim of some Freaky Friday body swap.

People change. Of course they do.

But not like this. Not enough to forget their very sense of self.

“Save me a seat at lunch? Specifically…this one?”

The smack of Yasmine’s hand hitting Demetri’s asscheek reverberates through the hall. Moon has to laugh at the sheer absurdity.

Yasmine hasn’t lost her fire in some ways, at least.

And Demetri doesn’t seem to mind. Perhaps Moon’s assumption was wrong.

She and Yasmine head off to class, her friend fawning nonstop over her geeky boyfriend. Moon smiles and nods along, pushing down the unease swimming in her chest.

Moon picks up a whiff of Yasmine’s perfume, and realizes that it’s lemonflower.

Dragging Yasmine away from Demetri at the prom is like trying to bathe a cat.

Moon finally gets her alone after a few songs, suggesting they grab some punch for Demetri and the others. Yasmine eagerly agrees, her entire being lighting up at the thought of doing her boyfriend even a miniscule favor.

There’s something unsettling in the way it’s so mind-bogglingly different from the Yasmine of a few months ago, who would rather chug drain cleaner Heather Chandler style than revolve her entire being around the needs of some boy.

Maybe there’s a way to breach the subject without arousing suspicion.

“I can’t believe you flew all the way back from Australia.” Moon forces a laugh as she ladles punch into Yasmine’s cup. “I didn’t know you were that into him.”

“Oh, Moon!” Yasmine giggles, leaning her head on Moon’s shoulder. “I’m in love.”

She tries not to think about how soft Yasmine’s hair feels against her skin.

“And the dress, too!” Moon reminds herself that Yasmine is very happily spoken for. “You really went all out. It’s kind of cute how you’re embracing nerddom for him.”

Odd, but cute. That’s what Moon has to tell herself.

“You think he liked it?” Yasmine leaned back, twirling around. “It’s not too much, right? I don’t want to seem like I’m trying too hard to impress him. I know guys aren’t into that kind of thing.”

Moon has to laugh again.

“Since when do you care what guys like?”

“Since I found one worth caring about, obviously.”

She sighs, a faraway look in her gray-green eyes. Perhaps she really is in love.

It’s just that Moon always imagined love would feel deeper than this.

“I’m sure Demetri loved it,” Moon concedes. “He’s really happy you came back for him. I can tell.”

“Funny, when I first showed up, he and Hawk were huddled off in some corner brooding, like the idiots couldn’t just dance with each other if they wanted. Almost felt bad taking Hawk’s boyfriend away.”

She snickers, and Moon feels strange.

She decides to change the subject.

“It’s crazy. I mean, imagine what you would’ve said a year ago if I told you you’d be smitten with Demetri Alexopoulos at junior prom. I remember when we first started talking again, you must’ve bitched for twenty minutes about that time he hit on you at your birthday party.”

Yasmine’s silent for a moment.

“He was being a creep.” There’s a steely edge to her voice that wasn’t there before. “He says he’s been watching me from across the lunchroom and I’m supposed to be flattered by that?! Like, dude, who even are you? Why are you talking to me?”

Moon raises her eyebrows.

“A couple weeks ago in science you were gushing about how sweet the ‘admirer from afar’ thing was.”

“Did I?”

Yasmine scowls in disgust. Just underneath it, Moon could swear she picks up a streak of panic.

“Yeah! He kept blowing you kisses across the room, and you giggled so loud that Mrs. Elmes yelled at you, remember?”

“Oh, god. That’s embarrassing.”

She says it like it’s some undignified moment caught on camera at a party—tripping and spilling her drink on someone, or the like. An odd way to talk about a behavior she has more often than not these days.

“He’s still such a weirdo.” Moon wonders if she’s imagining the trace of the Old Yasmine’s scorn. “He’s so, like, awkward about it when he puts his hands on me to dance. Like he’s scared my weird girl body is gonna burn him like a hot plate or something. I mean, we’ve been dating for four months!”

Moon’s stomach squirms.

“Probably just doesn’t want to do anything you might not be comfortable with,” she says quickly.

“He could freaking ask.” Yasmine curls her lip. “But I don’t even think it’s that. He’s an uncoordinated mess. He can’t dance for shit, and I have to do all the work.”

“Hey, don’t be mean!” Moon elbows her gently. “All this stuff is new to him. He never had a girlfriend before you.”

“Yeah. And it shows. Half the time I can’t even tell if he’s like…enjoying himself, you know?”

Yasmine grunts, reaching up and itching the side of her head. The strobe lights catch on something falling from her hair.

Her expression abruptly shifts.

“Oh, my poor baby!” she gasps. “We’ve been leaving him hanging over there, haven’t we? I miss him already. Come on, I’m gonna cry if we miss the slow dance.”

And just like that, the disdain is gone. Yasmine bustles off, snatching her punch and sweeping back onto the dance floor.

Moon looks down at the table, and her eyes land on a gray feather.

A tiny thing, from a tiny, fierce little bird. Beak hooked, meant for killing and piercing like a raptor. Loud, screaming, crass. Unrefined. Ready to jump to violence at the slightest provocation, especially when it gave them an excuse to show off.

Everything Yasmine isn’t.

And, ironically, everything Demetri wants.

Moon’s gaze drifts back and forth between the dance floor—where Yasmine and Demetri have resumed their grinding—and the corner where Hawk stands alone. Hawk’s eyes don’t leave his best friend once.

And, every once in a while, Demetri looks back. Yasmine is none the wiser.

Moon stiffens, guilt trickling over her like hot wax before a hair removal. She downs the rest of her punch in one gulp before going outside and calling an Uber.

I’m such a fucking bitch.

Whatever Demetri and Yasmine get up to at the afterparty, she doesn’t want to be around for it.

“So how are things with Demetri?”

Moon keeps her tone light as they finish their food court tacos, but she sees the new charm bracelet around Yasmine’s wrist. And she knows damn well what that means.

“He’s so annoying.” Yasmine wastes no time diving into a rant. “He never fucking listens. I try to talk about stuff I care about or that I think is interesting, and he’s always acting distracted or changing the subject or whatever. I was telling him this cool thing I read online about the history of georgette skirts, and he didn’t ask a single follow-up question. I’ll bet the world’s shittiest sponge is better at retaining crap than him.”

“Sheesh.” Moon makes a face. “I’m sorry. Boys are the worst sometimes.”

“And that’s not even all.” Apparently Yasmine wasn’t finished. “Not ten minutes later, he’s rambling on and on about this blaster thing he unlocked in some video game. It was the verbal equivalent of having cement poured directly into my brain. And he has the nerve to call me boring?!”

“He did?” Moon scowls, genuinely peeved. “That’s so rude!”

Perhaps Demetri wasn’t as sweet and thoughtful as he always came across.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Yasmine frowns right back. “So he gets all snippy with me because he’s being a soggy paper towel of a human being and obviously I’m zoning out. He starts quizzing me on all the dumb bullshit he was blathering about, and I finally snap and tell him he’s boring me out of my fucking mind. And then he gives this whole speech about how at least he’s spending his free time learning strategy and problem-solving and hand-eye coordination, and all I’m doing is looking at clothes online.”

They walk over to the trash and throw out their taco wrappers. With both hands free, Yasmine’s free to gesture more fully and furiously.

“Girl, I got so mad that I called him an antisocial freak and told him he was damn lucky I ever gave him a shot. That was probably kind of messed up, but whatever. Sam doesn’t cut him down to size enough, so I have to pick up the slack. Anyways, I was storming out of the restaurant, but he did the following-and-groveling thing. And sure enough, we ended up at Kay again.”

Yasmine looks down at her bracelet-clogged arm, a forlorn expression swimming over her pretty features.

“I don’t know why I keep letting this happen.” She sighs. “It’s like trying to plug up a boat leak with fucking office tape.”

“Why don’t you break up with him?”

“I wish I could!” Moon’s caught off-guard by the genuine despair lacing Yasmine’s words. “I’ve rehearsed the speech a billion times. But…every time I’m around him, it’s like I’m hit with some kind of emotional tidal wave. And suddenly I can’t bear the thought of ending things.”

She looks so lost. So frantic. So helpless.

“I see him and all I can think about is how much I want him,” she goes on. “No room for anything else. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and it freaks me out.”

Once upon a time, Moon might have called that love. She knows better now.

She wants to reach across the table and take Yasmine’s hand. Reassure her that this is what overpowering teenage crushes are like. That of course your mind finds ways to make hormones and attraction centered around one person seem like the be-all end-all of everything. Hell, she remembers feeling that way about Hawk before she came down from the high and realized how incompatible they were.

But Moon doesn’t. She can’t.

“Something’s not right with me, Moon.” Yasmine’s voice is quiet and fragile—a tone Moon hasn’t heard for a long time. “Sometimes, I don’t—I don’t feel like myself. You remember that week you were in Cancun? I went to the mall with Sam and Demetri, and Sam was complimenting the lemon balm perfume I had on, but you know I never wear lemon-scented shit. Like what am I, a cleaning product?!”

Moon laughs, gladly taking Yasmine’s implicit offer to lighten the atmosphere.

That was one thing Moon always appreciated about her. She never passed up an opportunity to use snarky bluntness to make a joke out of something unpleasant.

It’s part of why her and Demetri’s connection hadn’t surprised Moon. At least not initially.

The strange thing was that their bond got as far as it did.

“At first I thought it was because something stuck to me when I walked through the perfume section of Macy’s,” Yasmine goes on. “But we all went through there, and I couldn’t smell any lemon shit on Sam and Demetri. Am I going crazy or what?”

Moon pushes away the sinking feeling in her chest.

“Maybe it’s Sam who’s imagining things.”

“That’s what I thought, too.” Yasmine’s voice grows terse with panic. “But then Demetri starts bragging about how I always wear the lemon perfume when I go out on dates with him. With the air of someone who, like, actually believes what they’re saying. And I don’t know what the fuck he’s talking about.”

“Like Demetri knows anything about perfumes. He probably got it mixed up with that bergamot one you like.”

Her reassurance doesn’t appear to work.

“Whatever,” Yasmine huffs. “Let’s talk about something else, yeah?”

Moon lets Demetri slip from the conversation, fading into mental oblivion as they leave the food court and head for H&M. Yasmine brightens almost immediately, losing herself gushing over cute pink dresses and fuzzy purple sweaters and champagne-tinted heels. The afternoon passes easily, sliding in and out of changing rooms and twirling and laughing in front of department store mirrors.

For a while, Moon can almost forget the overpowering fear emanating from her closest friend. She can almost forget feeling like the world’s cruelest sociopath.

When Moon knocks on the door to 44101 Portico Place for the first time in months, she’s only half expecting an answer.

It’s 5:00 on a Wednesday, so plenty of time for any after-school extracurriculars to finish up. But, of course, showing up anywhere unannounced always has the potential to go disastrously wrong.

Demetri helped her develop a healthy dose of pessimism. She isn’t sure whether to be grateful.

The door opens after only a couple minutes.

“Moonshine? What’s going on?”

Moon offers a strained smile. “Hey, Pipes.”

Piper frowns at her across the threshold, looking more concerned than angry. It makes Moon feel all the guiltier.

“Is everything okay?” Piper asks.

“Sorry to bother you. It’s—it’s about Yasmine. And you’re one of the only people I felt like I could ask.”

She winces at the flash of hurt in Piper’s face. Her ex leans on the doorframe, crossing her arms and cocking an eyebrow.

“Go on,” she says, tone resigned.

“So…” Moon takes a breath. “Remember when you said you couldn’t be with me until I figured my feelings for Yasmine out?”

“Yeah?”

“I…may have done some light spellcasting and accidentally hexed her into falling in love with a gay guy.”

Piper blinks a few times, taking a moment to process everything. Finally she groans, running a hand over her face.

“Jesus Christ, Moon. Come in—I’ll get us both some fucking edibles for this.”

Piper’s living room is exactly how Moon remembers it—cream-colored couches, tasteful wall décor, chic modern fireplace. A goofy, surfboard-shaped coffee table that Piper’s parents had once tried to sell at a yard sale, but little Piper screamed and cried and beat the ground with her fists until they relented to keeping her favorite piece of furniture.

Now, Moon props her sandaled feet up on a bar that runs underneath it. The metal is cold against her skin.

She tries to focus on that. Sensations in the here and now. Things immediate and tangible.

Not the abstract mess she’s caused.

Piper returns after a few minutes, placing a glass of carrot ginger lemonade and a small gummy on a coaster. Moon picks up the gummy, tentatively taking a nibble.

Piper chuckles. “Don’t worry, it’s not that many mils. I don’t want us to be totally baked.”

Moon takes a more generous bite.

“So.” Piper sits next to her and takes a sip of her own concoction—some kind of purplish whey smoothie. “What did you do?”

Moon gathers her thoughts, working through how best to phrase it.

“You remember when we first met?”

“Sure.” Piper smiles thinly. “Our parents dragged us to that dumb gala, and I found you sobbing your eyes out in the bathroom because your ex-best-friend threw you out like you were nothing. And then I went on to find you have a terrible habit of swooning over the world’s most horrendous shitbags.”

She lets out a small laugh. “I guess so, huh?”

Piper rolls her eyes. “I told you. Over and over and over.”

“I know, I know.” Moon sighs, wearily admitting defeat. “About a week before that party, Yasmine and I had a phone call. And she just…cut into me. Said so many awful things. And I get it. I mean, her sweet sixteen got ruined and then as like…icing on the cake, I ditched her for the people she hated. But I don’t think anyone’s ever broken me down like that before.”

Piper tosses a comforting arm around her shoulder. For a moment, they’re back on tile floors under harsh fluorescent lighting, puffing blunts and snickering about fake people.

“I know,” Piper says softly. “And when I found you, you were still pretty shaken from it. I hope I helped.”

Despite herself, Moon leans into her.

“You helped more than you know.”

“Clearly not enough to stop you from going out and doing some sort of supernatural fuckery.”

Moon laughs softly. “That’s the thing, though. I think it was already too late.”

“What do you mean?”

She takes a breath.

“That night, after Yasmine hung up on me…I don’t know. It felt like my whole life shattered. I guess in a moment of weakness, I pulled out my spellbook.”

Piper narrows her eyes. “You said you only ever used that thing to ‘cleanse the house of bad energy’ or whatever. Or give yourself good luck charms on tests. Not—”

“—cursing people, I know,” Moon finishes. “I was so upset that I wasn’t thinking straight. I recited this whole incantation that was supposed to make Yasmine know how it felt to want someone who would never want her back. And, um…I guess the love gods interpreted that as her getting down bad for a guy who doesn’t even like women.”

“Wait. Isn’t that the same guy who did an MTV-style roast of your weird ex that one time?”

Moon sighs wearily. “That’s Demetri all right.”

“I knew it.” Piper pounds her fist into the couch triumphantly. “Of course he’s gay. Straight dudes don’t pull that kind of petty shit.”

“He’s not exactly subtle, is he?”

“Nope.”

It’s Piper’s turn to sigh, eyeing Moon with an almost pitying look.

“Are you sure Yasmine doesn’t genuinely like him, and just has a shit gaydar? Or she’s really deep in denial? I know I’ve pined after my fair share of straight girls.”

Moon shakes her head. “I second-guessed myself for a long while. Thought maybe I was wrong about Demetri. Or maybe Yasmine had changed so much that she really is into the whole geek shtick now. But…”

She takes a long sip of her carrot ginger lemonade, hoping the intense flavor will somehow give her strength.

“She acts like an entirely different person whenever we’re with him. And…not really in a good ‘he makes her want to be better’ type of way. More like she’s forgotten everything she likes and every aspect of her being that isn’t related to her boyfriend.”

Piper stares at an abstract, avant-garde wall painting, deep in thought.

“Maybe she’s, like, stuck in a codependence loop,” she says. “You said she was pretty clingy with you freshman and sophomore year, right?”

“That was different, though. She acted one way alone with me and one way out in public, sure. But it made sense. Whenever we see Demetri, it’s like Yasmine’s being mind-controlled by one of those thirsty freshmen who think Demetri’s the hottest guy in school because he won a karate fight one time. Then as soon as I get Yas alone, she doesn’t seem to remember half of what she said or did. And when I fill her in, she gets super embarrassed. Not that Yas can’t put on a façade if she needs, but…why would she intentionally make an idiot of herself if she’s gonna be mortified an hour later? She’s not impulsive like that.”

Piper shrugs. “Hormones make people act stupid. I did some truly absurd shit the first time I was trying to get chicks to notice me.”

“Hormones don’t make you go into a weird trance that your brain bleaches right after. People only wish that happened.”

“Maybe Yasmine’s lucky enough to have a brain that can bleach on command,” says Piper cheekily. “Or maybe she’s way too proud to admit she’s being dumb over a boy, so she tries to like…will it out of existence through not acknowledging it.”

“It’s not just about the embarrassment, though.” Moon sucks in her breath. “Every time she realizes about the memory gaps, she’s scared. Like she knows something’s wrong with her.”

Piper groans, leaning back against the couch and sprawling her arms across a cushion. “Can we prove she’s not being a diva? Leave it to Yasmine to make a fucking ocean’s worth of fuss about the same teen angst literally everyone deals with.”

Moon winces at the scorn in Piper’s voice.

It really is a shitty move, asking her ex-girlfriend for help with a girl she knows Piper can’t stand. That Piper has a damn good reason to hate. Assuming the worst about Yasmine’s romance troubles is only fair.

But what other choice did Moon have? It’s not like her scientifically-minded friends, with their AP classes and their blocked chakras, would believe her about a magic spell gone awry.

“She starts smelling like the spell components whenever she’s near Demetri,” Moon says flatly. “And a couple of them came out of her hair. It’s not stuff she’d ever wear otherwise.”

Piper sits back up, suddenly fully alert with her arms crossed.

“You could have led with that.”

“I thought the weird, erratic behavior was more important!”

“As if I’d have a hard time believing that girl would have mood swings.” Piper’s grimace falters slightly as she rolls her eyes. “Like. Moonshine, that’s your type.”

“Shut up!”

Moon swats her. Piper chuckles briefly before her expression grows pained again.

She processes everything for a moment, groaning again and putting her face in her hand.

“Christ, girl,” she mumbles. “If this is real…yeah, that’s a pretty big fuckup. I’m not the biggest Yasmine fan, but yeesh.”

“I know.” Moon makes a face. “Trust me, I never meant to mess with her mind like that, but—”

“—you were hurting so much that you did anyway.”

“…more or less. I think, deep down, I didn’t believe anything would happen. It was to make me feel better in the moment.”

“Yeah, I know you.” Piper looks up, offering her a small smile. “I think you’d have an easier time permanently giving up smoothies than intentionally hurting someone.”

“I just feel so awful!” Moon wails, guilt bubbling up and erupting out of her like a volcano. “I know Yasmine hasn’t been the best person, but she should be able to at least choose who she loves. Even if that’s never going to be me.”

“So…did you come here so I could make you feel better?” Piper scrutinizes her. “Because I won’t lie—I’m kind of at a loss right now.”

“I don’t know.” Moon sighs again. “I came here because you’re the only person I trust who I figured would like…entertain this whole thing. Anyone else would call me crazy.”

Because at the end of the day, Piper may be rough-edged and butch and intimidating, but she’s open-minded. She’s willing to hear anyone’s point of view, and tries to embrace every walk of life. And she’s never one to dismiss possibilities outright, no matter how absurd they sound. No matter how “weird” the people saying them are.

It’s part of what initially drew the two of them together. Well…that and acai bowls.

“Right. So you want solutions.”

It’s almost embarrassing how fast Piper deduces it.

“That…that would be great.”

Piper takes a long sip of her health smoothie, slurps echoing around the room.

“Seems like a proximity thing. You said she acts more lucid when she’s away from Demetri, right?”

“Right.”

“So make plans to hang out, get her alone, and snap her out of it.”

Moon bites her lip. “I’m, uh…not sure how.”

“Demetri makes her act like she’s not herself, so…” Piper shrugs. “Remind her who she really is.”

Moon chuckles hollowly.

“That’s the other thing. I don’t entirely dislike the person she’s become thanks to the…Demetri thing. She’s a lot nicer, for one. And less judgmental.”

Piper seems to be holding back laughter.

“So…you want Yasmine to be her true self and get her free will back and all, but you’re worried that when she does…she’ll be someone you and everyone else will personally find less palatable?”

Moon glowers at her. “Well, when you say it like that, it sounds bad!”

A snicker finally worms its way out.

“Yeah, because it’s an incredibly shady thing to say.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Moon huffs. “Look, isn’t there some way to undo the spell without undoing her growth? Because like…in a weird way, I feel like she has grown as a person since she got magicked into being obsessed with Demetri. Is that bad?”

“Not necessarily, but you’re being awfully picky for someone who doesn’t even know if or how they can reverse their own paranormal fuck-up.”

“I thought you might know of a way to do some kind of partial reversal. Make her stop being crazy about Demetri, but keep some of the good ways she’s changed?”

“Sooooo.” Piper slurps more of her smoothie, expression growing insufferably smug. “Considering that fucking around with the nuance of this already-opaque-sounding spell is an objectively terrible idea…the way I see it, you have two options. You can break the spell and let Yasmine be whoever she wants, even if it’s someone who kind of sucks. Or you can leave her to be this weird enigmatic love curse’s braindead meat puppet for the rest of her days—with the perk that she’s more pleasant to be around. So what’s it gonna be, Moonshine?”

“But surely there’s some way to—”

“Uh-uh.” Piper cuts her off. “Look, I don’t know any more about this stuff than you do, but I doubt we’re talking about a spectrum here. Can’t have your cake and eat it too and all that. Either we lift the curse, or we don’t, so…what do you want to do?”

After a long moment, Moon sighs.

“I want Yasmine to be free.”

“So you need to do what I said. Remind her who she really is.”

“Even if…‘who she really is’ turns out to be mean and self-centered and kind of awful?”

“Eeyup. That’s Yasmine. Take her or leave her.”

“Even if it undoes all her personal growth from the last year?”

“That’s the conundrum, isn’t it?” Piper leans nonchalantly against the back of the couch, arm on the headboard. “We don’t know how much of that was the spell, and how much was the real Yasmine wanting to improve herself. So we gotta let the real Yasmine out and hope for the best, yeah?”

Moon looks down at her lap and smiles, shaking her head. “People won’t be too thrilled to have her back.”

“Then that’s going to be her problem, not yours. If you’re such a bitch that you need magic intervention to make you tolerable, then maybe you deserve to lose all your friends.”

It sounds harsh, but Moon can’t argue.

“Hey, c’mon.” Piper scoots over, playfully nudging Moon’s side. “I know how much you cared about her. That’s why it felt like your world was ending when she cut you off. And why you were still hung up on her while we were together. So there must’ve been something in there you thought was worth fighting for.”

And of course there was.

Because this was Yasmine. The same Yasmine who danced like a dork and smiled with dimples as soon as no one was watching. The same Yasmine who yanked Moon into every single one of her snapchat stories, no matter how mundane. The same Yasmine who didn’t think twice about defending Moon’s honor when she thought Sam was talking shit, and told Sam to get the hell out of Moon’s Benz.

The same Yasmine who talked about her and Moon as a single intertwined unit. Unfathomable to her as something that would ever split, until that fateful night on the beach. The same Yasmine who trusted that wherever one of them went, the other would follow.

Sure, there was plenty about her that was cruel and vindictive and conceited. And she’d spent her time at West Valley High so drunk on her own power that she kept digging herself a deeper and deeper grave, earning the hatred of most of her classmates. Good looks could only got you so far when you leaked poison and bile from every pore in your body.

But who is Moon to decide which traits Yasmine gets to keep, and which are magicked away? Who is Moon to remold Yasmine into a watered-down, docile amalgamation of what had once been her assets, when not so long ago, Moon fell in love with the entire picture?

And now Yasmine’s a hollowed-out shell of a person, all empty smiles and lifeless giggles. A painting cobbled together by some computer program—beautiful and polished and splendid on the surface, but a closer look reveals the details are all off.

A closer look reveals something without a soul, no light behind those sharp gray-green eyes.

“Fuck,” Moon says miserably, head sliding into her hands. “I want my best friend back.”

“So go get her back, then.” Piper nudges her again. “And maybe go easy on the evil curses this time? I don’t know, just a suggestion.”

“Oh, stop.” Moon scoffs, but there’s no real venom in it.

Piper rolls her eyes, although not unfondly.

“I wish I’d known you back then.” She laughs, shaking her head. “I could’ve told you from the jump that fucking with the occult was a bad idea. Yes, even when a girl breaks your heart. Which, in my opinion, is the highest and most profound type of pain.”

“Naturally.”

Moon sighs wearily, smile fading.

“I don’t know if anyone could’ve stopped me, honestly. When she—when she broke what we had, it was like I’d fallen into some rushing river and I could barely keep my head up. And I was headed right for one of those tall waterfalls with sharp rocks at the bottom from adventure movies. For whatever reason, lashing out felt like the only way to get a breath of air.”

Piper hums thoughtfully.

“I will say that this all makes me feel better about how I reacted the first time someone rejected me. I liked this girl Lila in the sixth grade, and when she found out, she called me a fat ugly dyke in front of all her friends. So I filled her locker with sweaty gym clothes.”

Moon wrinkles her nose as Piper cackles. “Ew, Pipes! You’re disgusting!”

“Okay, but I don’t summon Satan to make my crush want to fuck a gay guy senseless.”

“I did not summon Satan—”

“Sorry, Satan’s right-hand man Joe the Sexual Orientation Confuser.”

“Imagine if there were demons that actually did that.” The concept is admittedly intriguing. “They get sent up from the underworld or wherever solely to make cosmically cursed straights fall in love with cosmically cursed gays. And cosmically cursed gays fall in love with cosmically cursed straights.”

“Shit.” Piper grimaces again. “Wonder what I did to piss Joe off.”

“You’ve really liked that many straight girls?” Moon has to giggle.

“You have no idea,” Piper mumbles. “And trust me—your ex wasn’t the first guy to assume I played for the other team.”

“Not sure his heart was in that one. I think he wanted get a rise out of me, honestly. No offense.”

“Oh my god. The sheer irony.”

“He really thought I’d get jealous of my own girlfriend. As if there’s any girl I’d care about my unserious two-month fling hitting on.”

And then they’re both laughing, swaying on the couch and clutching at one another to keep from toppling over.

“Hi, I’m your run-of-the-mill punk poser and I think I get more ass than a proctologist!” Piper grabs the couch arm, attempting to do dramatic poses as she talks. “I know you’re frantic to have me back, even though my only skills are yelling and punching my friends for no reason!”

“Stoooop.” Despite herself, Moon only laughs harder. It’s probably just the edible finally kicking in. “You’re so rude!”

“Like your ex even knows how not to be an inappropriate, boundary-crossing weirdo.”

“He’s getting better!”

“Because he’s finally learning after his 7th attempt that asking a girl you just met to fondle your gelled-up hairdo isn’t going to wield results.”

“He wouldn’t—”

“He totally would, though!”

Moon snickers, shaking her head.

“Fine, yeah. He would.”

As the laughter dies down, Piper’s phone buzzes. She picks it up, frowning as she reads a text on her home screen.

“Hey, I gotta run soon. One of the kids from the dojo is hosting pizza night.”

“Oh, right. How’s that going?”

It’s amusing, really, how easy it is to forget Piper’s in Cobra Kai now. If the dojo’s truly the all-powerful, all-corrupting force Eli claims, then Moon’s ex-girlfriend must be entirely immune. Even if she and Piper haven’t spoken in a while, Moon hasn’t seen any evidence whatsoever of Piper caving to some kind of deeply-buried inner asshole.

Not that it was buried too deep, in Eli’s case.

“It’s fun. Good exercise during the gymnastics off-season.” Piper shrugs. “Some of the people in my class take it way too seriously, though. Like it’s high school karate, not the fucking Cuban missile crisis!”

“Yeah, that’s what I’ve heard.” Moon makes a face. “I was…kind of worried for you when I heard you joined. They treat it like a cult.”

“Oh, please.” Piper scoffs. “Like I’d ever buy into those sorts of stupid dramatics. I mean, don’t get me wrong—it can be fun to spar with people who’re so intense about it that they act like their fucking life is on the line. Makes things interesting. But I’m mostly there for the free shit.”

“Really?” Moon cocks an eyebrow. “You always seem so excited on your snapchats.”

“Yeah, like, it’s good energy. Everyone’s super passionate. But it gets to be a little much sometimes, you know? The senseis treat it like this huge life-or-death thing. Like sure, placing in a global tournament would be cool, but it’s not that big a deal? And sometimes I wonder how much my teammates are actually, like, enjoying themselves, and how much they’re stressing over nothing.” Piper purses her lips disdainfully. “Honestly? I’m going to rack up as much free equipment as I can, and then I’m gonna ditch them for Topanga or something. They seem way more chill.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Moon frowns. “I know they can go psycho when someone quits. Look what happened to Hawk.”

“Any of those bitches come at me with a razor and I’ll beat their ass into next week.” Piper rolls her eyes, unfazed. “And what the hell are the senseis going to do? Call the cops on me for quitting their dojo? They’ll get laughed off the phone.”

“Just…be careful. I don’t want Cobra Kai hurting anyone else I care about.”

Before she can stop herself, she reaches out and squeezes Piper’s hand. The other girl turns and fixes her with a pale green gaze, expression unreadable.

“Okay,” she says quietly, tone turning serious.

Piper’s phone buzzes again, and the moment ends.

“Damn,” she mutters, glancing at her texts. “I forgot I said I’d bring jaeger bombs. I’d better get ready.”

“Oh, sorry.” Moon pulls away, embarrassed. “I don’t mean to take up too much of your time.”

“Don’t worry about it. I hope I could help.”

They stand up, and Piper starts to walk her out. Moon stares at the floor, suddenly feeling anxious again.

She stops right before they reach the front door. “What you said to do with Yasmine…what if it doesn’t work?”

“You better hope it does, because otherwise you’re going to have to consult the dark web or something. And then you’ll have to wade through about 70 sites with the most degenerate porn you’ve ever seen before finding anything useful.”

Moon laughs, tension easing.

“I guess I’ll deal with that when it happens. Or if.”

“Exactly. One thing at a time.”

“Well…I’ll let you go.” Moon offers Piper one last smile, opening the front door. “Have fun at your pizza party, okay?”

She’s halfway onto the porch when Piper catches her wrist, pulling her back.

“Hey, Moonshine…”

She turns. “Yeah?”

“I meant what I said before.” Piper bites her lip, meeting Moon’s eyes nervously. “About, um…if you sort through this whole Yasmine thing, and you ever decide you want to try again…all you have to do is ask.”

The surprise on Moon’s face must throw her for a loop.

“I mean, I’m not saying I’m going to sit on my ass waiting around,” she amends quickly, grip loosening. “I can’t promise I won’t move on. And I’m not, like, some piney mess who’s got nothing better to do than try and ‘win you back’ or whatever. But if you’re ever feeling it, and Yasmine’s not an issue anymore…just ask. The worst I’ll do is say no.”

And before Moon knows what she’s doing, she steps back inside and wraps Piper in a tight hug.

“Thank you,” she murmurs into the thick, bushy hair she remembers loving so much. “For helping. You didn’t have to, and I appreciate it.”

“I know.” Slowly but surely, Piper hugs her back. “But someone has to check you before you cause some domino effect that sends half the school into a sexuality crisis.”

***

Some author's notes, in no particular order:

I will literally die on the hill that Demetri is a bad boyfriend. All he's ever done IN CANON has been to objectify and generally be gross with Yasmine??? And the lead up to the whole icky "sexual venn diagram" comment was basically "hey, you should settle for me because I'm popular now and everyone thinks you're a laughingstock <3" Like wow! What a great way to treat the girl you're supposed to be "101% in love with"! And in S4 onwards he doesn't appear to know jack shit ABOUT her and just puts her on this pedestal as his "dream girl" while never actually mentioning anything about her personality.

I'm honestly not surprised that the natural progression of their relationship in S5 was (most likely) Yasmine getting fed up with Demetri not giving any visible shits about who she is as a person, and getting into fights with him the second she starts asserting her own wants and needs outside of him. And of course he gets her shallow jewelry gifts to placate her, which is just further proof he doesn't know her at all--it reads like he just saw on the internet that "girls like jewelry." And it's not like it actually solves anything, considering he's gotten her so many apology gifts that she can "barely lift her arm"! Tbh it pisses me off to not end that people whine and bitch about Demetri being a "bad friend" (which is so easily disproved it's not even funny) and don't make a peep about the gross way he treats his own fucking canon love interest. Please roast my trash son Demetri Alexopoulos for the RIGHT reasons!!!

I really did my damndest to keep Yasmine as canon-compliant as possible here. I do think she and Moon messed around in S1 and no one will ever be able to convince me otherwise, but I tried to keep everything we see of her here consistent with how she acts onscreen in seasons 1, 3, and 5. Season 4 is the obvious odd man out, which...needless to say is kinda the point XD But you take S4 out of the mix and accept some weird fluke was going on that was making her act that way, and we get something semi-plausible to work with! Hopefully she comes across as in-character (from what little we see of her!) here.

Also she does not love it when Demetri talks nerdy. Aisha and Sam's S1 salt conversation proves that she is not about it when people talk about nerdy school-related shit that reads like an inside joke she can't get in on (which applies to...most school-related things, considering she's shown to be kind of book dumb). She loves when Demetri gets her good grades, but she doesn't like. Have any inherent interest in school-related "nerdy" things??? And has never been shown to??? "Character development" shouldn't come out of nowhere and involve characters randomly getting into things they have never been shown to be drawn to actually!

I also hope I did an okay job writing Piper here! I wish I could write more MoonPiper, but we get!!! So ANNOYINGLY little of them and of Piper in general??? Like seriously, I went back and rewatched all the Piper scenes in the show, and there's like. Maybe 5 or 6 in THE WHOLE SHOW??? I barely have anything to work with and it is AGGRAVATING because I really love Piper and MoonPiper as a ship!!! And I want to do it justice that isn't just me projecting my own headcanons and theories because I don't know what else to do!!!

I really do think Piper is Not As Invested in Cobra Kai as everyone else though, lmao. Like she is there for shits and giggles, and also free merch. She respects herself too much to become a slave to the "cobra kai for life" bullshit lol

It IS incredibly funny to me that Moon gets more homoerotic scenes with her Super Totally Straight Best Friend than with the girl who was canonically her girlfriend. Like I love both ships, I really do, but when they give Yas and Moon SO many fruity scenes while their boyfriends are also being fruity, what did they EXPECT!!! Of COURSE I'm going to write YasMoon like my life depends on it!!!

Also, Moon saw that nacho nonsense with Hawk and Demetri in S2. She saw Hawk yank Demetri onstage during Valley Fest. She saw Hawk get all snippy about Demetri hitting on girls at the beach. She saw Hawk throw a hissy fit because his boyfriend bestie wouldn't join his evil dojo. She damn well knows they're gay!

And so does Piper ajadhskufbhd these girls weren't born yesterday!

Hoping to get this entire fic up on AO3 sometime in November! :3

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