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The first thing Demetri does when he enters West Valley High School at 7:30 in the morning isn’t anything that he or anyone who knew him a year ago would expect. It isn't sneaking into the engineering lab to get a few extra minutes with his competition bot before regionals. It isn’t hunting down his English teacher to pester her about the comments she left on his haiku about his summer vacation. It isn’t even finding the rest of the Miyagi-Do students to show their strength in numbers against the Cobra Kai goons among them. No, the first thing Demetri Alexopoulos does on a school day during his junior year of high school is wait by his locker for Moon Taylor to arrive so they can walk to their first period together.
It’s a little weird, him and Moon being friends now. Like actual friends. Not just situational lab partners or passing period acquaintances, but actual sit next to each other at lunch and get boba together after class friends. It makes sense, because they’re both close with Sam these days, but sometimes when they cram together at their table, Demetri can feel them both ignoring that cold space between them where someone else should be with a cocky quip and a sharp laugh.
It’s easier, to pretend that it was Sam who was their mutual link and not someone who isn’t there anymore.
He’d resented her for a little while, because she fed into the thing that took his best friend away, but Moon’s so damn nice and he’s always been so damn weak. Too weak to keep someone away, too weak to keep someone else close. What a fucking mess he is.
But as Moon’s newly minted friend and amateur karatist, he sees it as his duty to look out for her and her kindhearted nature. From the lunch lady who was most definitely lying about the mashed potatoes being vegan. From the sleazes who can't help sharing their thoughts on how hot they find girls kissing. From his own fellow nerds who think her pretty face and wide eyes mean she isn’t worthy of being in their project group.
And especially from blonde haired, blue eyed, designer-wearing vultures who might try to take advantage of her.
He spots the shine of brown hair just as Moon rounds into the wing of the school where his locker is located. Waving her down, Demetri pushes off the wall to meet her halfway. They fall into step together.
“We’ve officially survived week one, take two!” Moon declares, exuberance bubbling up in her tone before she catches herself and winces. “Sorry.” She peers up at him guiltily. “Maybe survived was a bad word.”
He dips his head in acknowledgment, shoving his fists deeper in his pockets.
They’ve gotten pretty good at avoiding the topic, after a week of being scanned and probed by metal detectors, removing keychains from his backpack because they had a little too much stabbing potential, ignoring the wary eyes on his face which is now recognizable from multiple angles in the smartphone coverage of West Valley’s most viral moment.
“But anyways,” she recovers quickly, “how’s it going for you so far? You know, all things aside.”
As she talks, Demetri marvels at how the halls respond. Guys who would’ve body-checked Demetri into a garbage can if he was alone break up their bro circle to let them pass. A pair of girls who might be on the cheer team exchange waves. Miraculously, they offer Demetri nods of acknowledgment too. Never let it be said that popularity doesn’t have mad perks.
Remembering her question, Demetri does not miss the opportunity to complain. “Mrs. Kent hated my back-to-school poem. Apparently fell into a pond/balance is overrated/fish poop in my mouth doesn’t exactly fit her idea of artistic expression.”
Really, the woman should just be glad he didn’t turn in his first draft: friend in hospital/other hiding from the law/also mohawks suck. How’s that for expression?
Moon laughs. “Well, I think Mr. Palmer already has it out for me after my petition to ban frog dissections last year, but I'll take the detentions over letting innocent amphibians die at the hands of teenagers." Her delicate features curl as she shudders in disgust.
Demetri snorts. "You should've seen what Brucks and Kyler did to the squids we dissected in middle school. That deserved a Geneva Convention itself." Even after successfully mutilating the poor creatures and securing themselves failing grades, the two idiots decided to go the extra mile and squirt ink at anyone within their radius. Of course, with his luck, Demetri was one of the victims and his favorite Star Wars shirt was a bitter sacrifice.
"Ugh," Moon groans. "I can't believe I was ever friends with them."
A perfect opening. He can practically hear Mr. LaRusso shouting wax on! Demetri clears his throat.
“Speaking of,” he says, casual as ever, “you and Yasmine are friends again?”
He’d seen them on the first day back and managed to hold his tongue on it for a week, wondering if this was just Moon being gracious enough to help Yasmine settle back in before cutting contact again. However, after one too many Instagram stories of them looking like two happy peas in a Sephora-sponsored pod, he feels compelled to break the silence.
Imperceptibly, Moon stiffens, her spine straightening even as she keeps her stride. When she speaks, her voice is as easy as ever, but the tap of her fingers on the strap of her book bag tells Demetri that she's choosing her next words with care. “We weren’t talking for a bit, but I never really stopped considering her my friend.”
“Right." Demetri gets that. Sometimes, he has to pause in the middle of explaining the other half of his coding camp achievements. Had felt skinned raw when Nate exclaimed I didn’t know you and Hawk knew each other. Can only ever call Sam one of his closest friends. "Right, right, right, but now that she’s back and not just a not-so-friendly face on your phone screen, are you sure that this is for the best?”
Moon pulls up short, turning on him with a narrowed gaze. “Demetri, I know you have your whole healthy pessimism thing going on, but I choose to look at things optimistically. I’m a big girl. I can make my own judgments.” She's not harsh, per say, but coming from Moon, the downturn of her glossed lips and accusing furrow of her eyebrows might as well be a roundhouse across the face.
Raising his hands in surrender, Demetri scrambles to placate her. “I know that, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply you couldn’t. I just… I don’t want you to get hurt.” It’s true, because Moon is a force of her own, but Moon is also earnest and bright and a pacifist and hasn’t spent countless hours in a freezer learning how to take a kick.
She smiles, doe eyes softening as her offense melts away. “Even if I don’t know karate, I can protect myself. But thank you for looking out for me.”
“Hey, we gotta stick together.” He bumps her shoulder lightly with his own, enjoying the press of warmth when she leans into it. After a second, he adds, “I guess I’m just kind of confused." Moon isn't some saint with unlimited patience, but Demetri's never seen her get as defensive as she has over Yasmine. He treads slowly. "I thought you were over bullies. Yasmine’s not even sorry for what she did.” Sorry that she didn’t end up on top, maybe. Sorry that the food chain she built was just as happy to swallow her up. “Why is it different now?”
Moon's answer is simple and sure, like dropping a rock on an anthill. “She’s my Hawk."
Demetri trips, nearly taking out himself and an entire group of freshmen behind him. Not a technique Mr. LaRusso would be proud of.
“What?”
She grabs his arm, gently pulling him to face her and out of the danger of the walking path. Her face is sweet as ever, but serious. “If he came back to you, if he apologized, if he meant it, you’d take him back.”
It’s not a question, but Demetri wants to deny it anyway. He wants to say that he’s got some pride, some standard of treatment for himself that he wouldn’t just run off into the sunset with a guy who'd ditch him in the dark.
But he’d be lying.
There’s a part of Demetri, from the very first you’d actually hurt me, that’s been waiting for Eli to stop the shitty Joker impression and just yell sike. There’s a part of Demetri that refuses to believe that one semester of dudebro karate can undo fifteen years of being the sweetest kid in the Valley. There’s a part of Demetri that’s just waiting for his best friend to come back to him.
He waves a hand, dismissive. “I think of it more like he’s being mind controlled by an evil nose-breaking, war veteran, snake monster,” Demetri babbles. “And Eli’s in there, somewhere, and one day he’s gonna kick the monster in his head and snap out of it.”
Moon sighs, maybe following his metaphor, maybe not. “You think I'm being too easy on her, but Yasmine’s never had to prove herself. Not to me. I know her. The Yasmine she doesn't show anybody else. I was pretty mad at her before she left, but looking at her now, I can just see. It's in her aura. Things are gonna be different this time.”
Bitterness crawls up his throat with a speed that surprises even himself. The feeling of disgust isn't new, but the target is. Not Moon, no. Never. But how could anybody sound that certain about another person? How could anybody be naive enough to believe they know something outside themself so totally and completely? It's illogical. It's human hubris at its peak. Some stupid kid at a lunch table, making premature plans for junior year, for senior year for MIT, for the future. As if what he had was a sure thing and not a bomb waiting to explode. He never even heard it tick.
It's not fair, that Moon gets to stand here with all the world's confidence at her back, like she's saying this because it's real and not just what she wants to be.
There's poison on his tongue now, but he swallows it.
Not at Moon. Never.
Instead, Demetri thinks of stupid kids and lunch tables and empty spaces when he spits, “Well, I think it’s pretty clear I don’t know Hawk at all."
It comes out with more force than he intended, but it doesn't matter. At some point, the hallway cleared out around them. It's just Demetri, Moon, and the newly installed security cameras to bear witness.
Moon shakes her head. He catches a whiff of her perfume, floral with a hint of citrus. Lavender, maybe. Mrs. Moskowitz used to diffuse essential oils with the scent because she read a Yahoo article that said it was soothing. Funny.
“Maybe not like you thought you did—maybe some of the details are different—but you know him at heart. And when he means it, you’ll know that too.”
Despite himself, despite his healthy pessimism, Demetri’s moved at her conviction. Her own kind of strength, he thinks. Not how fast you can punch or how hard you can kick, but the ability to be unflinching in your beliefs even when some asshole is testing them and making you late to first period. Solid. Roots planted in the ground. His friend would be well suited to Miyagi-Do, even if it's not suited to her.
He wishes he had what she does, but Demetri’s always been so fucking weak.
It's weird, that he and Moon are friends. Because every time he falls back to skepticism and shame, she uses compassion and trust in life's good intentions to build a completely different viewpoint of the situation. Maybe this is also why their friendship makes perfect sense.
Above their heads, the warning bell blares over the intercom. They have five minutes to get to class. Neither of them budge.
“So, what?” He scoffs. “You can fix her?”
“No, but I can make sure she knows that I love the person she is—the person she’s afraid to be—and let her come to me.”
“Then you just… accept her with open arms? Even if you hurt each other. Isn’t that stupid?”
Moon shrugs, her dangling floral earrings giving a delightful jingle at the movement. “It can’t be stupid to love someone." There's the slightest pause, the only flash of uncertainty he's seen from her, before she adds, "That’s what it is, right?”
He's recently learned a lot about the dangers of leaving yourself open, all that hard-earned defense humming under his skin, but he can't pay Moon's honesty back with anything but his best attempt.
“Well, we’re guys so we don’t say it like that,” Demetri mutters, edging around something that always felt like too much to admit to. “But yeah. That.”
Moon touches his arm. Always so gentle. The best person he knows. “Maybe that’s one of the things you should try. When he comes back.”
“Yeah,” Demetri says softly. “Maybe.”