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Chapter Text

Johnny Lawrence had a rough school year. Some new kid stole his girlfriend…well, ex-girlfriend, stole his tournament win, and honestly, stole almost every aspect of his life.

This was his one chance to prove to his mom and Sid that he deserved to stay in Encino. This was his one chance to stick it to Ali and her new boytoy. And this was his one chance to show his sensei that he was strong enough to help run the dojo.

Looking down at the mottled colors starting to blossom across his stomach and chest, he knew that he blew it. Hearing that cheerful voice break through his dark thoughts from the other side of the showers, he quickly tosses his soft t-shirt over his head and pulls it down over the bruises. He hears the faucet squeak as the water is shut off, and before the other boy can spot him, he grabs his duffel bag and red jacket before sprinting from the locker room. As he makes his way down the hallway towards the front entrance, he swears he can hear that excited Jersey voice call out to him.

Making his way through the crowd of energetic judicators and faculty chatting with opposing karateka and their families, he slides his jacket on, zipping it closed around him. Like a mask of cool strength and ego, he knows that his dojo bomber jacket is nothing more than a barrier of protection.

And I’ll need all of the protection I can get once Sid hears about the fight, Johnny sighs to himself as he walks towards the awards table. He stands behind a family, hugging their young son as he’s handed his participation ribbon and paper. His frown deepens as his parents discuss framing and hanging them up in their living room. No worthless paper and scrap of fabric would be hung up in the house for him.

“Excuse me?” Johnny turns his head back to the table and blinks back at the dark-skinned woman waiting on him.

“Sorry, uh, Johnny Lawrence,” he shakes his head and steps forward as the woman checks his name on her clipboard. She stands up and reaches for a tall trophy on a table behind her.

“John Lawrence, second place,” she smiles at the engraved plaque on the trophy before handing it across the table, “Congratulations on your win, son. I bet your parents are very proud.” He reaches for the trophy, hesitating as she brings up his parents.

Maybe he didn’t zip up his jacket enough, fix his mask on tight enough, because her face falls, the corners of her lips turning downward.

He grips the trophy tighter, pulling it from her hands with a quiet nod. He turns away from the table before he hears her clear her throat behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he watches her point to her nose with a smile before pointing back at him and winking. Remembering the small wad of tissue he had shoved up his nose to stop the bleeding, he awkwardly ducks away from the table and nearby crowd.

Feeling even more embarrassed and annoyed, he pushes through the front doors and out into the parking lot, stopping at a trash can and irritatedly removing the bloody tissue from his nose when no one’s looking. He dabs under his nose, feeling dried blood sticking to his upper lip. He wipes at it with the back of his hand, almost not caring that every touch makes the pain flare up his nose and into his head. Almost.

Sensing more people exiting the building, Johnny continues his walk into the parking lot, spotting a small group of boys around his sensei’s blue-gray car. He smiles at their navy and burgundy jackets, easily seeing the bright yellow patches over their hearts. Cobra Kai through and through. They all look up as he gets closer, catching his smile and smiling back at him. As their sensei’s star student over the past few years, he’s learned a lot of their body language and habits. Sensing the boys’ tension and exhaustion, he shrugs his shoulders casually and lifts up the trophy half-heartedly.

“In a year, no one’s gonna remember LaRusso’s name," Johnny exhaled a chuckle under his breath, “But everyone’s gonna remember Cobra Kai, yeah?”

Bobby barks out a laugh and claps Johnny on the shoulder loudly as Tommy steps back, opening the backseat door open. Johnny tosses his duffel bag to the just barely older boy before he places it gently on the backseat.

“Well, let’s see it,” Dutch calls from the other side of the car, extending his thick hand over the cooling metal of the roof. Without a word, Johnny hands over the trophy and watches out of the corner of his eye as Dutch and Jimmy gape over it. He knows that the two have never actually won any awards at these competitions, but he can help but feel sick at the disappointment of only getting second place. A part of him still feels giddy over that last fight, but the second he pictures the shorter brunette standing over him with his hand extended, he takes a deep breath and steels the anxious vibration that shoots through him.

He leans against the side of the car next to Tommy, enjoying the cool glass under his jeans, as Bobby looks over the plaque on the trophy. Johnny watches him curiously, as he lightly traces the letters engraved in the metal.

“I already told the guys, but I’m quitting,” Bobby says quietly, his fingers trailing up the columns. Johnny feels a cold hand wrap around his heart. “After what I did… I’m leaving Cobra Kai.” Bobby finally looks up from the trophy and meets Johnny’s eyes. His brow furrows slightly and his lips twist in regret. Johnny just stares back, not able to speak or move or breathe.

“Don’t give me that look, J. I’ll still be around.” He takes one last look at the trophy before handing it back to Johnny, a sad smile slipping into place. The blonde takes it numbly into his hands, trying to wrap his mind around the news.

Bobby is his best friend. He’s probably the only one in their friends’ group that isn’t scared to speak up whenever Johnny’s in a bad mood. And lately, Johnny’s been in a bad mood a lot…

Before he can say anything, the blonde spots a familiar hulking figure stalking towards them; his military gait unmistakable amongst civilians. With how tight his brown blazer is sitting over his shoulders, he can tell that his sensei is still pissed at the outcome. And like a warm, dry wind carrying a fiery ember, that seething ire quickly ignites his own irritation and anger. Johnny quickly pushes off the car and stands squarely on his feet, itching to receive orders and fight something. Despite the other urge screaming to run away.

As Kreese gets closer to the car, Johnny can feel his eyes lock onto him. The other boys weren’t his star pupils. The other boys weren’t supposed to win. He was. Johnny swallows nervously as feels every bruise pulse under his skin.

“I better see all of you at the dojo in formation by 08:00 sharp. Lawrence, don’t bother coming,” Kreese barks at the boys, not lifting his deadly stare from Johnny’s eyes. Is he trying to scare me into quitting? As if I’m going to take that bait…

“Hey, come on,” the blonde scowls back, stepping into his sensei’s mental ring, “That’s not fair. I got second place.” Kreese steps forward, his larger form now towering over him.

“Second place? Second place is no place!” the older man bites back, “You’re off the team.” Off the team. Johnny’s heart starts racing, the loud tattoo of blood rushing through his ears, blocking out all other sounds. The bitter heat rises throughout his body, quickly seeping through his skin, now trapped under the jacket he used to keep everyone and everything out.

“That sucks. I did my best,” Johnny thinks to himself, the words echoing in his foggy and sweltering mind.

“What did you say?”

Did I say that out loud? Johnny barely hears the question before he feels his mouth moving. His hands fly up in exasperation, swinging the trophy wildly. His eyes lock onto his sensei’s automatically, a habit they all learned in the dojo early on.

“I said I did my best!” he can feel his voice getting louder as it cuts through his throat. The beating in his chest continues to pound mercilessly, all of his senses shot and running only on venom.

“You’re nothing! You lost. You’re a loser!” From his periphery, he watches the spittle fly from Kreese’s mouth as the older man bellows in his face. His chest tightens in humiliation as he feels himself growing smaller and smaller. For a split second, Kreese, his sensei and teacher of the only thing he lives for, morphs into Sid.

As a small kid, Johnny could only ever stand at attention, taking the ridicule and admonishment as they came, that was, until the beatings started and he ended up on the floor in most situations. But the snake that raised him over these past few years did more than bite him, he realized as he looked deeply into his sensei’s dark green eyes.

It taught him how to bite back.

“No. You’re the loser, man.”

“I’m the loser, huh?” Quiet. A spring coiled so tightly, ready to snap. But Johnny knows that his sensei would never punish him in public. His domain was the dojo, only. And in order to prove himself worthy of running the dojo, Johnny can’t back down now.

“Yeah.”

Kreese grabs the trophy and breaks the top off before throwing it up into the air and somewhere into the nearby bushes. Bobby jumps back from the car and Jimmy flinches as the pieces fly over his head.

“Now who’s the loser?!” Kreese screams in his face, utterly enraged and unhinged. Not caring about his surroundings and the nearby eyes now falling on them, an icy fear bolts through the blonde as he watches his sensei break down all of his social barriers.

“You know, you’re really sick, man.” The boy knows that he’s too heated to calm his teacher down, the adrenaline forcing his body and tongue to fight back. But that small, scared boy in the back of his mind begs his sensei to come to his senses.

And hearing that voice, he knows that he didn’t zip his jacket up enough. That brief moment of naïve fear… he knows his sensei heard the cry too.

Kreese suddenly grabs onto the front of Johnny’s red jacket roughly, pulling him onto his toes. Before Johnny can shove his hands away, Kreese spins the boy around, pinning him against his chest with his forearm. The blonde can only stare straight ahead, catching a pair of warm dark brown eyes, worriedly looking back from the other side of a truck.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bobby tries to reach for Johnny, but Kreese tightens his arm around Johnny’s throat, pressing hard against his windpipe. Johnny struggles to loosen the larger man’s hold, to beg to be let go, his hands uselessly grow numb and weak to his commands. His mind grows fuzzy as his chest burns. He barely feels his legs slip under him as gravity pulls him further against the steel bar of Kreese’s forearm.

The streetlights overhead start to dim and fade into orangey gray streaks across his eyes, his eyelashes hanging over his vision like a dark vignette he thinks he saw used in an old black and white film.

He tries to remember if the film had talking or not, only remembering the silent gray images of a man yelling at a woman. He can’t remember her face, but he thinks she was crying. And the more the parking lot around him fades into those grays, the vignette of his eyes closing slowly, he forgets what the man looked like. He tries to recall something about the actor, the man yelling in the film, but the image just blurs between a figure that looks like Kreese and a figure that looks like Sid. And that can’t be right, right? Sid is some hot shot TV producer with a rapidly receding hairline and the bushiest mustache Johnny has ever seen. And Kreese is a Vietnam veteran whose blood probably runs black with hate. But maybe the man in the film did look like Kreese… he remembers now that the man was a father. And as the vignette shadows the man’s screaming face, the angry father, Johnny’s sure that it was his sensei in the film.

Suddenly he feels his body colliding with a hard, smooth surface before an even harder and warmer surface comes up to meet him. The ghost of pressure still lays across his throat as his lungs stretch in their cage, clawing for air against his ribs. The need to breathe sends him coughing as his throat threatens to collapse around the sharp and stinging air now filling his mouth and windpipe.

He starts to feel his limbs return to him as he feels several hands grab onto him and sit him up. He continues to cough and breathe, his eyes closed tightly, as he feels the hands rest on his shoulders and back. He knows that he should tell them off, that they’ll be punished for showing weakness in front of their sensei, but his head won’t stop throbbing and the weight and warmth of their bodies kinda feels nice.

Hearing a heavy thud on the ground near him, Johnny finally opens his eyes and allows all of the colors and sounds to flood in. He first sees Tommy in his burgundy jacket, crouched down by the car and clutching a rather swollen looking cheek. Confused, he turns his head slightly to see his sensei across from him, on all fours. It might be because of the colors, but the older man looks…scared…defeated. He’s staring down at his hands and as the boy’s eyes drift down, he sees red. Blinking, the red drips from his knuckles in bright rivulets, shards of shining glass peeking through.

A familiar voice speaks above him, softly like a whisper, and Johnny looks up to see the older man in his navy suit wrap his hand around LaRusso’s shoulders as the other boy limps away from the car. They speak quietly to each other and the blonde strains his ears, trying to hear more of the Jersey boy’s voice.

“...living even worse punishment than death.” The old man’s voice sounds sad, Johnny muses. Were they talking about him? Was this punishment for getting second place?

The sound of shoes scuffing against the asphalt brings Johnny’s attention back to his sensei as he watches the older man get to his feet with a deepening scowl. He tilts his head to the side, popping a vertebrae in his neck. Whether it’s age or a sign of masculinity, the boy knows that it’s a clear sign of who’s in control.

So the blonde shifts his feet under him and tries to stand, faltering, until those hands hold him steady. Worried for the other boys, he brushes their hands off once his feet steady, giving them a curt nod.

“In the car,” Kreese orders, his voice steady with control again. “Now.” Johnny watches as he pulls a particularly long shard of glass from between his knuckles and drops it onto the ground before marching over to the driver’s side of the car and getting in.

The blonde catches Tommy’s worried glance between Kreese and the other two boys standing behind him. Johnny pats him on the arm reassuringly, accidentally meeting his eyes briefly, before he opens the front passenger door and stops.

Not sure what had happened, he finally notices that the window is missing and that the seat and floor are covered in small shards of glass. Not wanting to piss his sensei off more, he pulls the sleeve of his jacket down over his hand and brushes the shards off the seat and onto the pavement below. Kreese starts up the car, the rumble traveling through the open door and under Johnny’s hand. The boy quickly leans down and slips into the seat, pulling the door shut behind him. He nods minutely to Bobby, making sure not to meet his somber gaze, as the car lurches forward and speeds out of the parking lot, leaving the students of Cobra Kai behind them.

–

Kreese drives silently. No 60s music, no military anecdotes to inspire or warn him, and no ranting about the old man and LaRusso. Just silence and the evening wind whistling through the window frame. Johnny just keeps his hands tightly balled in his jacket pockets and his eyes peeled to the blurring views of the freeway and trees lining the nearby park through the window. By now the wind has cooled his flushed skin and he’s aware that his nose is bleeding again, but he doesn’t dare move.

The car comes to a stop outside of his house, the neighborhood quiet and quaint. Johnny takes a small silent breath, still feeling pressure around his throat, before unbuckling his seatbelt and unlatching the door open. He carefully climbs out, hearing the small tinkling of glass falling to the ground as he stands up.

He pauses, waiting for Kreese to say something, but the older man just pulls another piece of glass from his hand. So, the blonde closes the door softly and moves to the other door, opening it quickly and grabbing his duffel bag from the back. A small drop of blood falls onto the fabric as he lifts it from the seat. He sniffles and wipes at his nose with the back of his hand.

Before he can step away from the car, Johnny hears the driver’s door swing open as Kreese pulls himself out of the car. The pressure around Johnny’s throat feels like it tightens as he watches the larger man strolls around the car towards him, wrapping an old bandanna around one of his hands calmly. He barely looks up at Johnny as he passes the boy, whistling curtly for him to follow.

The boy quickly closes the back door and follows after his sensei, noticing that his mom’s car isn’t in the driveway, only Sid’s. Shit.

Before Johnny can pull his house keys out of his pocket, Kreese reaches the door and rings the doorbell. A new wave of fear washes over the blonde as he realizes that his teacher wants to talk to his parents. Memories of an irate Sid finding out that his kid quit drum lessons or rollerskating, or even, the time he quit magic lessons flash before his eyes.

After a moment of icy silence, the front door swings open revealing Sid in an ill-fitting button up shirt and slacks, whiskey already in hand. He immediately takes in the two and frowns down at Johnny.

“Mr. Weinberg, good evening,” Kreese starts, “Tonight, John lost the tournament and frankly, he needs more training and discipline to uphold what we strive for at Cobra Kai.” Sid’s frown deepens as his eyes drift between the two.

What are we even striving for at Cobra Kai? Just a first place trophy? Is it really okay to break the rules and hurt people?

Before Johnny can interrupt, trying to find the words to say that he wants to quit karate, Kreese continues.

“I can straighten him out before the summer classes next month, however, I feel like Encino may not be the best environment for that and feel that he needs more “tough love” than I am capable of offering here in the city.” Sid takes a sip from his glass, clearly mulling this over. Johnny, however, is growing more dismayed as the adults speak over him.

“There’s a wilderness training camp that I recommend,” Kreese pulls out a brochure from his inner jacket pocket and hands it to Sid. From Johnny’s view, the bandanna and blood are barely visible under his sleeve.

“Well, Laura and I were already talking about sending him to some summer camp or boot camp if he didn’t get his act together by the end of the school year,” Sid swirls the amber liquid around his glass and peers over the drab colored brochure.

“This camp starts in two weeks, and does have a decent martial arts class and survival training. My brother works at the camp, so I’ll be heading out there on Monday to help prepare the counselors before it starts. I can bring John with me and he can help set everything up, and get more karate training,” Kreese informs the heavier man, keeping his bloodied hands behind his back like an enlisted officer doling out a briefing.

Just seeing his sensei’s large hand circled tightly around his other hand sends a pang of searing pressure around Johnny’s throat, causing him to involuntarily suck in a breath between his teeth and choke on the remaining saliva as his mouth dries. He coughs suddenly, covering his mouth before darting his eyes between the two upset adults, staring him down on the small porch. He shifts the handles of his bag in his hand as he feels Sid’s eyes burning through him.

“As I said,” Kreese cuts in, his cold stare pinning the boy to the spot, “this camp may be more beneficial to straightening him out. I would hate for the other students to pick up on his bad behaviors.” His sensei turns his attention back to Sid. “You can call me at the dojo once you’ve made your decision and we can arrange a pickup time.”

Sid looks up from Johnny, not fully meeting such an intense stare, and nods in approval to Kreese. With a tip of his glass, Sid waves the older man off, and Johnny watches in amazement as Kreese stiffly and quietly makes his way back to his car. The blue-gray car starts up before it’s yanked from the curb and peels down the street and into the night. Yearning crickets and curious owls screech and hoot in the distance, leaving the two on the porch in a moment of awkward silence.

With a scowl, Sid finally steps aside, leaving just enough space for Johnny to squeeze by him in the doorway. The boy can feel his clammy body heat rise as the man downs the last of his whisky close to his face as he brushes by.

Following the swig, the blonde feels the door slam behind the older man before he is immediately shoved against the wall.

“Did you even put any effort into the tournament tonight, huh?” Sid’s seething breath makes Johnny’s eyes water as he tries to push his hands away. “I bet you didn’t even place, did you, ya little shit?”

Johnny shoves his hands away and tries to walk away, but Sid grabs him by the back of the neck and throws him against the wall again. Feeling the large hand squeeze around his neck, the blonde freezes. His vision flickers in motes of gray as he blinks back tears.

“I got second place,” Johnny gasps before a tremble shakes through him.

“Liar,” a pale blur cuts through his vision before he feels the stinging burn on his cheek. “If you placed, you’d have a damn trophy. And I don’t see you holding one.” I did have a trophy, you, asshole. You would know that if you ever showed up to one of my matches.

“I got to the final match and lost,” Johnny says quietly, not bothering to look Sid in the eye as his mind pictures the shorter brunette boy smiling and laughing, “against a tough and…respectable opponent. But I did make second.”

Sid breathes in his face again, the alcohol vapors burning the boy’s injured nose, before shoving him back into the wall.

“You’re weak. Weak and worthless, kid,” Sid takes a step back, setting his glass down on the entry table. “So close to first and you couldn’t even go all the way.” With not much warning, Sid sends a fist straight into Johnny's stomach, adding to his collection of blues and purples. The boy curls his chest inward, trying to protect his injured stomach and ribs, but the man takes the opportunity to swing a messy hook into his jaw, sending him to his knees.

Johnny feels the heat of anger and fear burn under his skin again, begging to be unleashed in a flurry of blows. But the blonde clenches his teeth and balls his fists, breathing painfully as he tries to control it.

“What? You angry? You wanna hit me back?” Sid taunts him as he bends that damn whisky mouth over him. Johnny grimaces and looks away, internally fighting the urge to hit the older man.

“That’s right, all this money we’ve put into you, and you still can’t fight,” his stepfather straightens up and sneers down at him. “Maybe that camp might not be a bad idea after all.”

With one last hard kick to the ribs, Sid grabs his empty glass and turns away, walking down the hall into the living room, and back to the baseball game, Johnny figures.

Johnny falls back against the wall and sits on the floor, wincing as he notices a couple drops of blood on his jeans. As much as he’d like to stay still for a moment, the entryway feels too open, too vulnerable. At least in his room, he can feel a little safer in the dark, hidden away under blankets.

He presses his back against the wall and uses it to climb slowly to his feet, wincing as he feels every battered muscle pull throughout his torso. He zips up his red jacket to the collar, stopping before it closes over his throat. A symbol of everything Cobra Kai stands for, Johnny wears it like a suit of armor: unstoppable and unbreakable.

He picks up his duffel bag and slowly heads upstairs to his room. He doesn’t even bother with the light, closing the door behind him as the darkness swallows him. Letting his body follow his memory on autopilot, he easily crosses the room and falls onto his bed with a huff.

He curls his body in tightly, pulling the blankets over his shoulders and head. He sniffles, feeling the blood thicken again in his nostril.

Johnny reaches a hand out from under the blankets and feels around the floor under his bed. His hand brushes over a square and flat object, a wire and headphones trailing after it as he picks it up. Once again, not needing the light, he slips the headphones over his ears and presses a few buttons before the Walkman whirls to life, rock music blaring into his ears.

With a shuddering breath, Johnny realizes that his rough school year is now turning into a rough summer break, and it hasn’t even started yet.

Chapter Text

A dissected shaft of light slowly shifts, crawling across the boy’s jaw and tangling in his messy long blonde locks, now cutting angrily across his eyelids. Johnny’s eyes twitch, now trapped behind a reddening stormy sky of flesh and blinding light. The veins in his eyelids flare like lightning as he groans, coming to consciousness enough to roll his face further into his pillow underneath.

The darkness seeps in, coercing his mind to fall into the neverending pit of swirling colors and television static. But the light is unyielding; no mercy. A searing warmth clings to his cheeks, draping over the side of his neck, prickling the skin until his entire body feels its effects. In this position, the sunlight plays offense, filling the room with an early morning heat that can only be found in the Valley. A sudden heat that is unbearable to try sleeping through.

So Johnny growls, a soft and low rumble in his throat, as he finally rolls onto his back and opens his eyes, bleary and heavy. He feels the pressure behind his eyes immediately, the swelling around his nose now hanging under his eyes like a drooping soccer net left out in the rain. He blinks up at the ceiling as more pressure and darkness clings to him, first trampling over his stomach and ribs, before a silky burning snake settles around his throat. Its weight pins him to the bed in fear, as he remembers its fangs from last night: a flash of flying shrapnel glittering in the parking lot light, large hands grabbing onto him with an incredible force and speed, and, as the snake waits patiently for his mind to catch up, a tight weight wrapping around his throat, blocking all air from reaching his chest.

The blonde arches his back, desperately gasping as he tries to remember how to breathe. The memory has his heart racing, his lungs aching against his bruised ribs, tears burning behind his eyes. Finally catching some air down his throat, the panic subsides and he drapes an arm over his eyes, just trying to focus on breathing.

The sunlight skates across his face again, warm tendrils of light burning ever so brightly. Focusing on the rise of temperature in the room, he pushes himself into a sitting position, running a shaky hand through his gleaming bedhead. He squints at his alarm clock, grimacing at the early hour for a Saturday. Saturday. Cobra Kai training. 08:00 sharp.

Remembering his sensei’s words last night, before everything whirled into chaos, a new sharp pang snaps in his chest: disappointing, unwanted, and…a flash of brunette hair on a boy falling to the mat clutching his knee, regretting. Johnny cringes, everything too bright and in focus.

He quickly gets up, realizing he slept in his clothes and shoes, and stumbles out of his room and into the bathroom down the hallway. Best remedy for whatever the fuck happened last night…a stupidly long hot shower. Then coffee.

–

Johnny drains a large cup of fresh coffee, glad that Sid seems to have left early for his weekend golf practice, or was it tennis? Whatever stupid old man sport it is, Johnny thanks its existence.

He zips up his red jacket, still trying to hang on some semblance of his life, before slipping his headphones on and heading out the back door. Deftly dodging his mom and her sugar-coated smiles in the garden, the blonde heads into the garage and grabs his Honda, deciding to take a ride down to his favorite beach spot in Malibu. Anything to keep him away from Sid and the dojo.

He zips past the morning traffic on the 101, his Walkman loudly playing through his headphones. Soon, he’s speeding through the winding Malibu hills, spotted with newly built mansions and lush wineries and ranches, the air growing cooler and saltier. As he swerves onto the PCH, he weaves around a train of Harley bikers, probably on their way to Neptune’s Net, where all “hardcore” bikers hang. Some of them laugh and point at his slimmer bike, but he rolls his eyes and gives them the finger, effortlessly steering his bike onto a dusty trail hidden by overgrown palms. The trail dips down and around some homes, the coarse wind whipping through his hair, until it ends by an old lifeguard shack at the top of the cliff, just overlooking the beach.

He hops off of the bike and kicks out the kickstand, leaving it standing at the top of the wooden stairs. Slowly, he makes his way down the platform, his shoes scuffing against the sand and eroded wood. For some reason, he’s reminded of some party held here last fall. He remembered not wanting to go to it, but for some reason he… Ali.

As he reaches the bottom of the stairs, he suddenly remembers that they had a huge argument earlier that day and he wanted to check up on her. He can still taste the words, the apology he had figured out in his mind, that he was going to say to her. He pulls off his shoes and socks, balling them up inside.

Tommy and Bobby were talking to him, joking about the upcoming school year. But then someone pointed Ali out on the beach and he remembers how his vision went bright red and the waves crashed louder. Even crossing over the warm sand now where she once stood, he can still see that twerp standing behind her, holding her close as she tripped backwards onto him.

He remembers the anger, the confusion…the hurt, when she screamed in his face to leave. He also remembers those dark brown eyes staring up into his as he shoved the boombox into his chest, pushing him away. Those stupid dark eyes glaring at him as he kicked him in the stomach, forcing him to the ground. He smirks now, seeing the boy in his mind fall over and over as he stretched his longer legs out. But the sudden coldness of a low tide washing over his bare feet breaks Johnny from his thoughts, right as he remembers the quick jab the kid threw to his nose.

The blonde blinks, looking up from the wet sand and across the bright blue water, the sun warm on his back as it crests over the hill. His nose aches from the swelling, last night’s pain intertwining with the pain from his memory. Another wave rolls in, tugging at his feet with an icy hand before retreating back into the ocean. He focuses on the coldness, the rhythm of the tides, instead of the pain dully sitting under his skin.

Ace-degenerate. That’s what Tommy called him. He desperately thought everything was going to change; he was going to change. But now at the end of the school year, that’s exactly what he is. Maybe what he’ll always be…

Feeling too crowded with memories on the beach, Johnny unzips his jacket, pulling off his shirt and jeans and leaving them in a pile. He runs towards the waves, feeling the cool water capture his legs, dragging him further in. As the water reaches his torso, he gasps in shock at the coldness before taking a deep breath and dunking his head under the next wave.

He stays under for a moment, his eyes closed as he feels the rhythm of the currents take control, forcing a fluid dance of sorts onto his body.

Back and forth… back and forth.

The blonde breaks through the surface, gasping for a quick breath before he lets his body start to float along the top of the waves.

Johnny had never tried surfing; was never really interested in it. There was always something dark and mysterious about the ocean, he could never really put his finger on. Could be because of all of the times he and Jimmy watched Jaws growing up, but no, there was something else about the ocean that unsettled him. At Cobra Kai, he was taught to control your fear, to master your surroundings. But out here, in the water, he wasn’t in control. And no amount of training or a surfboard could help him. Something in the water always called to him, telling him to venture further out into the depths. And even though he always stopped himself, there were times like this when, maybe, he didn’t even want that self-control. What use was that small amount of power when everything around you was already in control?

As he mindlessly floated up and up, the wave growing larger by the second, it finally fell under him, the current dragging him under the surface. He figured the tide would start to rise sooner or later, but as the current swept back towards sea, his legs shot upwards, twisting his body around. The current wrapped itself around his waist and spun, speeding up as it drove deeper. A sinking fear bubbled to the surface of his mind. Riptide.

He had been caught in one before. It’s always the confusion that leads to panic. If he can hold his breath until the current settles, he can find the surface and swim up. But the scariest part of being caught in a riptide is that you never know you’re in one until it’s too late. You don’t ready yourself to dive into a riptide, it just takes you by surprise. So the blonde squeezes his eyes tighter, feeling the burn in his chest as the air in his lungs bubbles through his nose.

The second he feels his body start to float, he pushes in that direction, opening his eyes in the salty water, seeing the yellow light peeking through the ripples. As he crests the water, inhaling all of the air he can, he feels something hard bump into his shoulder.

“Hey!” Johnny blinks the water from his eyes and sees a bright yellow surfboard floating next to him. The man laying across it scowls at him before rowing his arms to the side, directing the board towards another incoming wave. The blonde looks back towards the water and sees two other surfers rowing further out, getting their feet under them as the wave lifts.

“Watch where you’re swimming, kid!”

The wave reaches for the shore, crashing around Johnny and pushing him forward. This time, however, he’s expecting it. Keeping his head above the water, his body surges towards the beach until his feet and knees scrape into the sand. He centers his body weight on his shoulders as the wave retreats, his legs slipping under him as the sand shifts around him. But once the wave is gone, he’s able to pull himself to his feet, albeit speckled with sand. With a grumble, he walks back to his clothes and shoes, giving the imaginary brunette and Ali the finger on his way.

A weariness settles in, his body still feeling the rhythm of the sea as the sun starts to beat down on his shoulders. He quickly shakes out his clothes, pulling them on while trying to ignore the sand getting everywhere.

“Well, guys, hope you enjoyed the show,” he says to the empty spot on the beach, “Maybe next time I’ll actually drown.”

Now in a worse mood and exhausted, the blonde doesn’t even bother listening to music on his way back through Malibu. He just listens to the wind ripping by, slowly drowned out by the sounds of afternoon traffic on the 101. He slows to a stop as the light by the exit turns to red; his bike humming softly under him. As he glances around at the other cars, he sees a familiar yellow classic Ford across the intersection.

He sneers, feeling that now familiar pang of hurt, as he sees LaRusso behind the wheel and Ali in the passenger seat. A fiery impulse to do something shoots through him. He could swing through the intersection and drag his keys across the side, maybe even serve in front and claim the brunette wasn’t watching where he was driving and hit him.

But when he sees the angry look on Ali’s animated face, that impulse dies down. Curious, he walks his bike forward a little, getting a better view of the other boy.

LaRusso is taut, both hands tight around the steering wheel. He tries to say something, his expression pained, when Ali raises her hands in a very familiar fashion and drops them unceremoniously in her lap. That only means one thing: She’s pissed.

The light turns green and the Ford drives ahead, disappearing down another street shortly after. Johnny stares down at his handlebar for a moment until a curt horn pulls him out of his reverie. He glances up and sees that the light on his side is green, traffic now flowing around him.

–

When he walks through the front door, Sid’s irritating voice immediately calls out from the living room, stopping him in his tracks.

“Hey, asshole, you’re signed up for Camp Elsinore Lake or whatever it’s called.”

Johnny sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

“The school year’s over,” Johnny groans, raising his voice over the TV in the other room, “Can’t I just stay with Bobby or one of the other guys, if you don’t want me in the house anymore?” It’d be a whole lot cheaper, too…, he thinks, bitterly. A low chuckle echoes down the hall, making the boy frown more.

“Nah, we’ll kick you out properly once you’re eighteen,” Sid laughs, “Until then, you’re doing what you’re told and going to this summer camp, boy.” Johnny clicks his tongue in annoyance, searching his sun-weary mind for any reasonable rebuttals.

Unfortunately, his lack of respect for Sid won out and so he resigned himself to stomping upstairs to his room.

Pulling his headphones over his ears, his mind wanders to Daniel LaRusso and Ali in his car and what they could have been arguing about. At least he may have a chance to fix things with her this summer, unlike him.

Chapter Text

After a miserable weekend of staying in his room, and no phone calls or house visits from the boys, Johnny finds himself tossing a sleeping bag, his duffel bag, and a backpack into the back of Kreese’s car. The passenger window has been replaced but he can’t help cringing at the thought of the older man smashing through the other one. He remembers how much blood coated his hands and the sound of the glass falling onto the street.

“Bye, John!” he shuts the trunk and turns back towards his mom standing by the front door, “I know it’ll be tough to be away from home, but I hope you have fun.” He can’t help rolling his eyes before giving her a half-assed wave. Maybe if she just listened to me and didn’t feed into Sid’s bullshit, I wouldn’t be stuck leaving.

Speaking of Sid, Johnny purposefully dodged the man all afternoon, not wanting to see that stupid smirk of his as he carried his bags downstairs. Maybe some miracle would happen and Sid would choke on some cocktail shrimp at the country club while he was away, leaving him and his mom the rest of his money on the way out.

A whistle cries out from the driver’s seat and the blonde’s shoulders stiffen in response. He quickly opens the door and slides into the passenger seat opposite Kreese. The boy glances over at the older man quickly, surprised to see him in a black loose tank top and khaki cargo shorts. It shouldn’t be that surprising, seeing as how the Valley was surprisingly warm this week. Hell, even he was sporting denim shorts and a cropped t-shirt, exposing his stomach and lower back to whatever breeze he could catch. But he couldn’t think of any time he’s ever seen his teacher wearing shorts, even on the weekends outside of class. He could almost imagine Kreese going on a hypothetical vacation, if it wasn’t for the black driving gloves with the stark gauze wrap sticking out.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Lawrence?” Johnny tenses, turning to meet Kreese’s stare. He shakes his head, accidentally breaking eye contact as he looks down shyly.

“Uh, no, sir,” he stammers out, looking back up. The older man tilts his head, his jaw clenching.

“Then let’s close the damn door so we can leave.” Johnny’s head whips around, seeing his door still open after he had gotten in. He mutters an apology under his breath and gently closes the door, his eyes flickering to the new window pane. Kreese turns his keys in the ignition and the car rumbles to life under them. Not caring about the pampered neighborhood speed limits, Kreese grinds his foot on the gas and away from Sid’s house. Johnny hurriedly fastens his seatbelt across his waist, knowing his teacher’s love for speed and subsequent road rage.

Kreese and Johnny drive east towards Elsinore Lake, thankfully with the radio on this time. It’s a mostly calm drive, with Kreese only honking and swearing and swerving around a handful of people as they drove through Burbank then Glendale…then Pasadena. But that just meant the older man didn’t talk to Johnny and the boy could just listen to The Doors and Journey in peace.

As they start heading south, the views out the window grow more shaded and cooler, the sun now blocked by trees and tall vegetation crawling on the rocks on either side of the freeway.

Kreese soon makes an exit, traveling along a road that starts to incline up the mountain. As the car continues higher, now surrounded by thicker oaks and pines, the radio station’s frequency fades, Queen’s lyrics warbling into noise. Johnny sighs softly to himself, his disappointment further exasperated as Kreese fiddles with the knob, searching through the static to find another station. After a few minutes, the older man gives up with a huff, punching the radio off and leaving the car in silence.

Johnny leans against the window and stares out at the forest around them; the late afternoon sun starting its descent behind the tops of the trees. The car purrs under them, its engine revving occasionally after a turn to regain speed. Despite having somewhat loud and boisterous friends, Johnny always enjoyed the silence. Silence meant no one was yelling or crying or breaking things. But as his eyes fall on the worn grey road speeding under them, the silence eats at him, only making him feel more anxious. Eventually, the silence becomes too uncomfortable so he tries to make light conversation with his teacher.

“I never knew you had a brother,” Kreese slowly glances over at the boy out of the corner of his eye, “S-sensei.” Johnny gulps, immediately regretting opening his mouth.

“I didn’t live with him. Only really got to know him when we were in the army together.”

“Oh, you both joined?” Johnny is about to say something stupid like, ‘I bet your parents were proud,’ but he bites his tongue, pivoting to another question. “Were you in the same unit?”

“No, different units,” Kreese simply grunts before clearing his throat. “But it was easier to exchange letters when we were both stationed in ‘Nam. Now, we both live in California, so we see each other a few times a year.”

Johnny nods, not sure what to say. He’s never had a brother, which may honestly be a relief. Flashes of Sid’s screaming face and his mom crying spark in Johnny’s mind. Before he can ask more about Kreese’s brother, the radio fires loudly through the speakers:

“Come one, come all to Elsinore lAke!
Make all of your family memories here aT elsinore lake wiTh canoe rentals,
beautiful Hiking trails, and all-you-can-Eat trout dinners at patsy’s diner.
And don’t Forget about our FrIday FiSH Frys…every friday!
So good, you’ll wanna stay all summer!”

Kreese frowns at the radio, unable to turn it off. Johnny just watches with wide eyes as the commercial of cheery voices blurring together seems to repeat again. The older man eventually punches it again, shaking the wires inside or smashing whatever mechanism to shut it off. The silence sits deafening between them. Johnny watches as Kreese’s hands tighten around the steering wheel, the leather in his gloves squeaking as it’s pulled taut against his healing knuckles. The man doesn’t say or do anything, just keeps driving in tense silence. So Johnny leans his head back against the window and continues staring out as the car circles the mountain.

As Kreese turns onto a smaller road, Johnny sees a worn sign directing traffic towards Elsinore Lake. The wood was warped and uneven and all of the bolts had rusted and bled, but at least it had a fresh coat of bright blue and green paint. He continued staring at the sign, looking at its backside until he felt the car slowing. He turns his head back towards the front, seeing an old truck stopped in the middle of the road, its driver’s side door open.

The blonde leans forward a little in his seat, catching movement on the other side of the truck. Just then, he sees a wiry old man, lanky and coiled in like a snake. His face is pallid and flushed, enraged through the window of long grey locks and a bushy beard. He swings what looks to be a handcarved cane in the air, pointing it at another man as he backs up further into the middle of the road. Kreese groans and mutters a curse under his breath as he leans back into his seat. Johnny turns back to the old man, now seeing who his ire’s target is: a short middle-aged man with dark swept hair, probably around Kreese’s age, wearing a plaid shirt and jeans. He rubs at his temples, trying to talk to the old man, one hand clearly resting on a pistol at his waist.

As the old man comes into clear sight of the truck, the boy notices that not only is he swinging his cane as a threatening weapon, but he’s also using what looks to be a shotgun…as a cane, the barrel pressed roughly against the pavement as he walks. What the hell kinda place is this?

Johnny holds his breath, trying to pick up some of their conversation through the windows. They seem to be arguing about something, Johnny almost laughs, swearing he hears the old man yell something about a gnome. But when the other man turns away in frustration, he finally notices their car and stops. He throws up his hand at the old man before walking towards them, leaving the ranting madman in the road. Kreese wheels down the window in anticipation, leaning his elbow on the door coolly.

The dark-haired man walks up to the car and Johnny can now clearly see an old silver ‘Sheriff’ badge pinned to his button-down shirt. The blonde immediately leans back, crossing his arms in a subconscious defense against the authority figure.

The sheriff leans his forearms against the top of the car and shakes his head.

“I’m gonna have to do somethin’ about this guy one of these days, I swear,” he drawls tiredly, looking down at Kreese. “How ya doin’ Johnny K? Trip up here alright?” Kreese shrugs.

“Damn pussies don’t know how to drive in Burbank, but that’s what you get for putting all of Hollywood’s idiots in one place,” the older man grumbles. The sheriff chuckles and nods his head before noticing the boy in the shotgun seat. He eyes Johnny warily, lifting an eyebrow in either question or threat, before smiling. Johnny isn’t sure, but either way, he already hates him. There’s a strange hunger to his smile, something he’s been seeing a lot of lately.

“How long do you think this will take, Donovan?” Kreese asks, looking out towards the old man who now seems to be picking at a dead squirrel on the side of the road. Johnny grimaces in disgust.

“Old man Henderson? Hopefully not too long. I know there’s more traffic comin’ in for camp tonight, so we’re gonna try to steer him back home and keep an eye on ‘im,” the sheriff turns and looks at Henderson with a patronizing glare. They sit for a moment, just watching the old man dance around the carcass.

“Ya know, Jim’s been a real pain in the ass this week. Been annoying us with calls down at the station, wantin’ to try something new this year with the camp.” Sheriff Donovan leans in the window, his voice lowering. “Maybe you can speak some sense to your brother? We shouldn’t be changin’ no plans this close to the camp openin’ up.” Kreese furrows his brows, but nods sharply. The sheriff raps his knuckles against the hood in acceptance before his eyes fall on the blonde again.

“Who’s the kid?” he asks, causing the boy to bristle at the disrespect from the older man. Johnny’s brows furrow and his lips curl into a frown.

Without looking over at him, Kreese introduces Johnny, saying he’ll be staying at camp. Sheriff Donovan clicks his tongue behind his teeth, looking more thoroughly at the boy.

“I guess I shoulda’ pegged him as trouble if he was hangin’ around with you,” he smiles tightly, his teeth too sharp to be anything but dangerous. “Now you better do what you’re told-”

Before he can finish threatening Johnny, another car turns the corner, pulling up from the opposite direction.

A younger man steps out of the car, his hair equally bright and shaggy like Johnny’s but pulled back with a bandanna across his forehead. Wearing a matching badge, the younger man waves to the Sheriff before crossing over to the old man.

The Sheriff rolls his eyes at his partner before turning back to Kreese.

“Seriously, talk with your brother before I end up killin’ him,” Donovan locks eyes with Kreese, both men clearly feeling some sort of edge in the words. Kreese tenses and balls his hand into a fist on the other side of the door. Johnny watches in both amusement and trepidation, not sure what either man might do if a fight broke out, but this was way more fun than sitting at home in his room or being stuck in a cabin.

The sheriff breaks the tension, slapping the top of the car and pushing off the window.

“And keep an eye on that boy. We don’t want any trouble before camp starts, ya hear me?” He turns back to his truck, watching the younger man shoo the crazy old man onto a hiking trail that crawls up into the woods. Once Henderson is out of eyesight, Sheriff Donovan hops back into the truck and turns it around, heading back down the hill. A moment later, Johnny watches the younger man get back into his car and follow behind. As he drives by their car, he smirks at Johnny, his eyes seeming to catch the dwindling sunlight unnaturally.

Kreese lets the car roll for a split second on the incline before he presses the gas with a little too much force, shooting them up the hill quickly and towards the campground. As they drive under the wooden arch, weather-worn and crudely carved, Johnny sees a group of twenty-somethings walking up the hill and talking in animated tones. As the car drives by, a Hispanic guy with curly dark hair peers through the window at Johnny. The boy blinks until they disappear from view.

Suddenly feeling fatigued from the long car ride, Johnny can’t help the shiver that runs through him. He swears that the guy’s eyes were almost shining, like that of an animal in the dark.

Kreese continues driving up the steep hill until a large building comes into view. He turns into a gravel parking lot on its lower south side, the wooden lodge now looming over them. Johnny peers up at all of the windows, lights flickering on as the daylight darkens further. His eyes trail over to a tall flag pole, the American flag and Californian flag swaying in the breeze. And next to the flagpole, a large red cast iron bell sits in wait, ready to call the unfortunate campers to whatever stupid activities this place has planned for them.

His eyes fall back onto the lodge as its outdoor light flickers on, moths immediately swarming its light like touch-starved followers to some ancient, dying pariah.

A slam on the roof causes his heart to fly into his throat as the boy jumps in his seat. Whirling around to look through the window, a bright and toothy smile beams down at him, long fingers spread wide and waving erratically.

Kreese grunts in response and shoves his door open, jumping out; his imposing figure intimidating the squirrely person away from the car.

“Hey there, guys!” The absolute nerd tries to reach forward, to help open the door for Johnny, but a low growl from the other side of the car keeps him at bay. So Johnny awkwardly opens the door and slides out, now standing way too close to the older counselor who doesn’t seem to notice. The blonde takes in the shaggy auburn hair and spattered red freckles under the floppiest grey bucket hat and round-rimmed glasses, trying to slide out from between them and the car.

“Hi! I'm Frederick Higgins, but you can call me Freddie! I'd like to welcome both of you to Camp Elsinore Lake, or Camp Hope, as I like to call it,” Freddie smiles even wider, which makes Johnny's jaw hurt. “Because when life feels like you're lost in the woods, all you need is hope to make your way through. And that's what we strive to teach here!” Johnny cringes, looking over his shoulder at his stoically annoyed teacher.

“Uh, I’m the number two director at the camp,” Freddie awkwardly continues, throwing up two fingers behind his clipboard, “and will be organizing all of the prep courses for the counselors this week. I can show you guys to your assigned cabins-”

“I know where we’re going,” Kreese interrupts bluntly. Before Freddy can ramble more about ‘how excited he is for them to be joining them this summer,’ or something along those lines, Kreese whistles loudly and starts walking away from the car, heading up the stairs towards the main lodge. Johnny smirks and shrugs, hurriedly following orders and leaving the weird nerd behind.

The two walk into the lodge’s main room, through a set of heavy glass-paned double doors. The counselors inside have already set up folding tables and chairs in the back half of the room, closest to the kitchen doors. As they push past a few people gathering paperwork and lanyards at a front-facing table, Kreese b-lines for a man who almost looks like an identical twin.

James Kreese.

Chapter Text

“James Kreese,” the stocky man introduces himself, jutting his hand out towards Johnny. The blonde takes his hand and shakes it, feeling the larger fingers squeeze a little too tightly around his hand. Seeing double makes his head dizzy, a pressure sinking around his throat. He gulps. At least he seems slightly more pleasant than sensei...

Almost like a mind-reader, John Kreese clears his throat and crosses his arms, turning his torso towards his brother. James glances at the older man before addressing the boy.

“Go sign in at the front table,” he casually orders, tilting his chin over Johnny’s head, “I need to speak with John.” The blonde steps back, huffing as he spins around and heads towards the table they had just passed.

Johnny steps up to the table as a blonde girl peers up at him from her stack of papers, already bored of his existence. She is definitely older than him, but she wears her dirty blonde hair in low pigtails tied with bright pink scrunchies behind her ears. Which he really doesn’t understand the appeal. He raises an eyebrow, matching her lackadaisical stare.

“I need to sign in?” he asks indignantly, placing his hands on his hips. She slowly blows a bubble with her gum and pops it before pointing to a clipboard under some papers. He rolls his eyes and shoves the papers aside, signing his name quickly on the top sheet. She shifts in her seat slightly, glancing at his name on the page before looking him up and down. He shifts his weight onto his other foot, definitely pissed off now. She reaches down below the table and pulls out a bright blue lanyard, tossing it across the table towards him. He sighs and snatches it, wrapping the fabric chain around the plastic protector and shoving it into his pocket. The girl shuffles through some papers, looking for something, as Johnny’s ears pick out rising voices from the corner of the room.

He lifts his head slightly, following the sound towards the large fireplace against the front of the lodge. He sees Kreese and uh…Kreese standing close with their arms folded, shoulders tense. Whatever they were whispering about has definitely grown heated, gaining volume as they argue. He clenches his jaw as his fingers itch for the weight of his Walkman in his palm, unfortunately still packed away in the car.

“You’ll be in Cabin 7 at the top of the hill,” the bubble-gum blonde finally speaks, pushing a map and printed schedule on the table towards him. He picks up the papers and glances over the map, seeing arrows pointing towards the lake and X’s over some areas in the woods.

“So we have three meals, which you’ll hear the bell. Don’t be late or you’ll regret it,” the blonde pops another bubble between her teeth. He raises an eyebrow in question. Is everything here just crazy or am I actually being threatened?

“So the training courses will star-”

“He’ll be helping me and John while he’s here,” James steps up to the table, tall and now agitated from the conversation. Kre- John Kreese stands slightly behind him, almost boxing the blonde in. Immediately, Johnny feels like a small child and he frowns, choking on the tell-tale macho military Kreese aura.

“Claire, let’s give him a staff t-shirt and whistle,” James instructs the girl, who nods energetically and turns towards the box of t-shirts and other supplies behind her. Part of Johnny beams at this, glad he doesn’t have to follow everyone’s orders like the other campers.

Once the boy has everything he needs, James walks them towards the doors, leading them outside for a brief tour. Already the campground is dark, the last few rays of sun stretching over the distant trees to the west, but not quite falling on their path.

“So, that’s the Leadership cabin, where John and I will be,” James nods to the light-paneled cabin with a green painted roof just behind the main lodge. They continue walking up the steep hill, cabins dotting the treeline in a semi-circle along the western side.

James points out a recently fallen pine behind the rock climbing wall and wrestling mats, claiming that the tree just fell over one night and they hadn’t had the time to chop it into firewood.

“Cabin 5B is off limits,” he states, gesturing to half of a cabin sitting dark under a large oak tree. Its front and side doors are lined with bright yellow caution tape. “There was a black mold problem in the cabin, but we were only able to clean out the left half before camp starts. So the right half is locked up and no one is to go in.” Johnny grimaces in disgust, but nods, stepping slightly away from the cabin’s exterior.

Finally they reach the top of the hill, Johnny’s legs burning and chest slightly wheezing from the hike. The last cabin sits on a rock ledge leaning over the path, lonely and dark, overlooking all of the campground.

“Cabin 7,” James states, the bright white 7 gleaming next to the front door under the pale outdoor light, “This is your assigned cabin.” The older man walks up the wooden steps to the door and opens it with a slight shove of his forearm. Johnny can see the moths circling in the light, not daring to enter the cabin. Kreese grunts behind him, urging him to follow after his brother’s disappearing form. Each of the wooden steps creak under Johnny’s feet, a strangely organic sound, as he imagines the cabin holding its breath, waiting for him to enter.

And as he enters, James flips a switch on the wall, bathing the room in a yellow light from a pair of farmhouse lanterns dangling from the ceiling. Johnny blinks at the sudden light and walks further in, counting six bunk beds lining the front half of the cabin. He quietly paces around them, the stuffy scent of mothballs and generic laundry detergent sticking to the mattresses. He saunters towards the other half of the cabin, finding the three showers and bathroom stalls past a red and white plaid curtain.

As Johnny comes back out into the main room of the cabin, running his hand over a worn wooden table, years of scratched names and vulgar jokes scrubbed out, he briefly peers through one of the windows.

Sneaking out from the treeline, stands a lumbering, lanky creature. Staring back at him. His hand freezes. His heart thrums cruelly in his chest as his breath gets caught in his throat. It just stands there, looking directly at him.

He screams at his mind to move, finally getting some control over his body, as his feet backpedal slowly. Too slowly. He needs to move faster, to run, to warn everyone. Keeping his eyes glued to the creature through the windows, he sidles through the cabin, slowly, making his quiet way back towards James and his sensei. The log wall breaks the view briefly, his eyes still locked onto that spot by the woods. As he passes another window, a dizzying wave of relief shudders through him and he lets out a shaky breath. It’s the fallen tree.

From this angle, he can see the break in its trunk, the roots stretching from under it, pulling up the earth around it. His fingers tremble slightly as he runs a hand through his hair, finally allowing gravity to lessen its hold on his limbs. He takes another breath before turning away from the window, drawing him towards the only two dangerous things near him: the Kreeses.

“The RA, Betty Michaels, will be in charge of cabin 7,” James says as he heads back out the front door, the other two following him. “However, she called earlier today, saying she would be arriving a few days late, so you’ll be alone in the cabin until she gets here.” Kreese huffs behind him.

So that must have been what the brothers were arguing about, Johnny thinks with a smirk. A babysit-

Kreese squeezes Johnny’s shoulder hard, pinning the boy in the doorway.

“This will be your only warning to behave.”

A pressure tightens around his throat as Kreese’s breath lingers on his ear. He bites his tongue and grabs onto the side seam of his pants, a nervous tick reminiscent of a soldier at attention. He’s barely aware of the motion but god, he hates doing it every time. He nods, his smirk of boyish confidence falling off on command. Kreese squeezes his shoulder again, for good measure, Johnny figures, before pushing the boy through the door and down the steps.

“Alright, I need to go check in on the dinner prep,” James holds up his arm to the outdoor light, checking his watch, “So, go ahead and grab your stuff and settle in. Don’t miss the dinner bell.”

The trek down hill is much easier, the three of them not talking as James splits off into the main lodge while they return to the car. Johnny quickly grabs his bags and sleeping bag before making the strenuous hike back up the hill. As the path brings him closer to the rock wall, the blonde keeps his eyes on the tree monster, watching the optical illusion fall into place with a smile. He rolls his eyes at his stupid fear and continues hiking upwards.

After throwing his shit on the bunk in the far corner, away from the front door and the future RA’s bunk, he hears a bell echo outside. The two tones of sound, both high and bright, and low and dark, send his heart racing slightly. Like a strange pendulum of excitement and dread. He shakes it off by slipping into a navy sweater and heads back down the hill towards the sound.

As he heads into the lodge, he’s met with the sounds of excited chatter as people stand in line to grab food along the back wall by the kitchen. If Johnny had to guess, there were only about twenty or so people here, all older than him. Some seem to know each other, catching up with stories from college or work, and some are awkwardly shaking hands for the first time and trying to compliment everyone’s “style.” Johnny huffs under his breath and walks towards the back of the line, grabbing a tray.

Being an observant person, he glances around the room slowly, watching as some of the staff sit at the actual staff tables, and some branch out to sit among the numerous other tables for the incoming campers. As his blonde bangs hang low over his eyes, he watches Kr- John sit down at the Counselor table, across from his brother, with his back to the wall. Maybe it’s the same instinct Johnny has, to sit in the one place where you can see all of your enemies in front of you, not behind. During his junior year, Ali was able to talk him into moving to a more central table, closer to all of her friends. It definitely made Johnny antsy, but by the time they got to senior year, he felt more comfortable with his Cobra Kai’s sitting around him. With a small smile, he remembered the feeling of Bobby’s back pressed to his as they sat down for lunch every day. It was never brought up; it was just natural for them.

The line shortens and soon the boy is at the kitchen window. An older woman with graying hair smiles at him warmly.

“What’ll it be, blue eyes?” she gestures to the sign in front of her. Two options: breaded chicken or fried fish. Not really in the mood to test the waters with cafeteria seafood, he picks the chicken. The woman smiles back, her tongs clicking. He half-smiles, holding his tray up, waiting for her to grab the filet out of the basin. She just smiles, clicking her tongs once more, then twice. His hand falters and he’s about to ask if she’s okay when she finally blinks and looks down at the empty tray. She plucks a piece of chicken and places it on his tray, immediately clicking the tongs together.

If he wasn’t weirded out from that, he feels the tickling sensation of eyes on him as he grabs the rest of his food and drink. From the corner of his eye, he can see Kreese watching him. As he walks by the Counselor table, he tries to not meet Kreese’s stare, glancing over the other empty tables in the room. Maybe he can just sit down by a group of counselors and pretend to befriend them. It’s not until James kicks out a chair next to him, almost tripping him if he didn’t stop fast enough, that he decides to join the older men. He sits down awkwardly, his back towards all of the strangers in the room, and a threat to his front and side. He hears a click behind him. As he turns his head slightly, he sees the older woman standing in the kitchen doorway, holding those damn tongs in her hands, unblinking. He quickly faces his tray and tries to eat, any hunger he may have had now gone.

After an uncomfortable dinner, and some staff announcements and campsite rules, Johnny is finally free to head back up to his cabin. Kreese and Kreese head out the back doors, probably to catch up over a cigar. The boy scouts the kitchen windows and doorway, not seeing any more of the kitchen staff working. No more creepy fucking lunch lady.

As he makes the annoying trek up the hill, he notices that all of the cabins now have a light on inside. The occasional silhouette moves by the window, girls dancing together or guys cracking open a window to smoke out of. He watches the tree monster come to life again, aiming a finger gun at it. As the path starts to curve, he realizes that this particular spot is incredibly dark. Looking back at the cabins, everything feels uniformly lit and alive, all except for cabin 5B. The western half of cabin 5A sits snug under an outdoor lamp, close to the edge of cabin 4B. But the eastern side, 5B, juts out into the darkness, forcing the paved trail to steer towards the right a bit. Almost like it’s reaching out to grab onto anyone walking by. And even more unsettling, the bright yellow caution tape sways in the evening breeze, a soft rustle of life on an otherwise dead building.

Johnny shivers, the cool mountain air finally sinking in. He continues hiking up towards his cabin, the sweat chilling against his neck. He walks inside and closes the door behind him, the loud creaking of its weathered hinges telling him ‘good evening.’ He unravels his sleeping bag on the mattress and lays down on his bunk, thinking about how he got here.

In a few days, West Valley will be hosting the graduation ceremony, which means his friends will be walking across the stage in those goofy robes and hats. Probably with beers hidden in their pockets, knowing Dutch. He wished he could be there, to stand up there on that stage and give West Valley one last middle finger.

But his mood sours as he remembers when Sid told him he wouldn’t walk. He had gotten decent grades the entire year, but one fucking tournament, and that asshole was going to use it against him for everything.

The tournament. That tournament always meant everything to him. Even in ‘81 when he lost, it was still the best thing that had ever happened to him. He gained friends there. He gained respect and confidence there. Kreese’s face flashes across his eyes. He had gained a father there. But now, the tournament…

He squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his palms over them as flashes of faces and fists and kicks wash over his memories. Now whenever he thinks of the tournament, he only sees his trophy breaking into small pieces, his vision going gray as the burning in his chest grows, his throat closing tighter and tighter. And dark wavy locks under him, falling back towards the mat. Dark brown eyes searing their way into his chest. Whenever he thinks of the tournament now, all he can see is Daniel fucking LaRusso.

Chapter Text

The next morning, the toll of the bell rings through the tall trees and across the quiet lake. Johnny groans, pulling the thin pillow over his head as the bell keeps…ringing… and ringing.

With a frown, the blonde curls in on himself, feeling stiff and cold in the crisp air regardless of the sleeping bag. His headphones are half-hanging around his neck; his Walkman silent after it reached the end of its Zebra tape. Blinking his eyes open, he blearily looks across the cabin, dust motes lingering in the rays of sunlight between the empty bunks. He trains his eyes on the window over the table, not really able to see his monster friend from his bunk.

Rubbing at his eyes with a yawn, the boy sits up, stretching his neck and shoulders. He winces, his throat and back still healing from the tournament and…

Johnny kicks his legs out of the bunk, shuffling over to the bathroom. After relieving himself, he washes his face and brushes his teeth, before sliding into a pair of red gym shorts. He reaches for some band t-shirt his mom never let him wear outside of the house, until his eye catches the folded Counselor shirt sitting on a nearby chair. With a shrug, he tugs it on over his head, the red raglan sleeves almost matching his athletic shorts. He pockets the stupid whistle and lanyard, ties on his faded camo Converse, and heads down to the main lodge. As he passes cabin 5B, he shoots his finger gun at the tree monster. If I’m gonna be stuck here with you, I might as well have some fun. Right, Timber-toes?

Johnny catches up to a group of counselors as they reach the main lodge. A tall dark girl smiles at him, holding the door open for him after her friends. He smiles back as he passes her, trying his hardest not to stare at her long, lean legs. Before he can turn back around and ask for her name, a total Chad with wispy ash-colored hair and the goofiest thick sideburns bumps into him, wrapping his arm around her waist. The musclehead tilts his chin as a greeting before leading her towards their friends by the kitchen window.

The blonde narrows his eyes, debating on taking the challenge. It’s not like he’s looking for a babe, still feeling the sting of Ali falling over LaRusso on the beach. But the trapped animal in him really wants to cause some chaos, despite the consequences, like being kicked out by Sid.

Instead, he follows another counselor towards the window, keeping some distance between him and the muscle Chad as he grabs a tray and juice carton. As the small pencil-stached, greasy-haired staff member scoops some hashbrowns onto his tray, he hears a familiar voice echoing further in the kitchen. Moving towards the doorway to the kitchen, Johnny sees the small archway dividing the corner space into a staff office of sorts. Clearly making out the large form of his sensei, he turns his head, facing his ear towards the man.

“No, that’s unacceptable,” Kreese is clearly arguing with someone, his left hand sitting on his belt as he holds his right hand up to his head. He’s still wearing those driving gloves.

“Registration is already closed. I’m not making changes to my roster because your loser pansy-ass son-!” Kreese’s voice rises before he is cut off, a steeling ripple moves through his deltoids and down his triceps. He holds his neck stiff, anger seething under the surface.

“Lawrence!” The boy jumps at the sudden voice, the aura of Kreese leaching out from the man behind him. The blonde spins on his heel, careful to not drop his stupid tray of shitty powdered eggs and potatoes. James stands with his hands behind his back, always the soldier ready for any attack.

“I want to introduce you to some of our counselors,” James nudges his elbow against Johnny’s shoulder, leading him away from the kitchen and back towards the tables. The blonde follows the larger man to a table near the center of the room, a trio of people in matching shirts sitting and talking while they eat. Johnny sees the brightly wrapped ponytails first and bites back a groan.

“Claire, this is John Lawrence,” James notions to the shorter boy on his right, “He’s here early to help with setup, so let’s use him, alright?” Claire looks over her carton of chocolate milk at both of them, nodding enthusiastically, surprisingly more energetic whenever Kreese is around.

“We’ve got canoes and the rock wall today,” she replies, searching James’ eyes for approval. Johnny looks down at his tray, a smirk threatening to twist onto his face, as he realizes what’s going on. There’s always someone hot for teacher…

“Perfect,” Kreese nods and smiles lightly, his chest expanding slightly as he exhales. A boyish girl…girly boy… person with a coppery shaved head pulls the chair out next to them, offering it to the blonde. As Johnny sits down, he hears Kreese tell Claire to check in with him once they are done, before walking away from the table; her face quickly matching the pink in her scrunchies.

“So, John-” a Hispanic guy with curly dark hair starts before Johnny interrupts him, not bothering to look up from his hashbrowns.

“It’s Johnny.”

“O-okay Johnny,” he repeats with a laugh, a slightly mocking sing-song tone in his voice, “Where ya from, kid? Is Mr. K your uncle or somethin’?”

Johnny stops mid-bite, his throat closing slightly. He coughs and tries to clear his throat, finally looking up at the older guy across from him.

A faint recognition dawns on him as he glances into his hazel eyes, the gold shining brightly behind his dark, long lashes. A blur washes over his vision, capturing the guy’s face in the vignette of the car window as he looks towards Johnny. His eyes were shining like an animal’s.

“U-uh, no. No, Kr- John Kreese is my sensei from back home. Encino. I just met James yesterday.” The blonde takes a large gulp of his orange juice and keeps his eyes away from Curly.

“Sensei, huh? Like in karate?” The boy’s eyes shift upwards, narrowing as he looks for a sign of taunting. But Curly just shovels another bite of food into his mouth, waiting for his response.

“Yeah, like in karate,” Johnny answers simply, glancing over at Bubblegum Barbie and Annie Lennox-wannabe.

“That’s cool, kid. Well, my name’s Manny,” Curly wipes his hand on his shorts before extending it over the table. Johnny stares at it for a second, not a big handshake person. He shrugs and reaches to take the guy's hand when he hears the click behind him.

Click click.

He looks over his shoulder towards the kitchen, hearing the tell-tale sound of tongs clicking together. His wide eyes stop on the familiar shape of the creepy fucking lunch lady from last night. She stands in the kitchen window, waiting for someone to approach.

Click click.

Clicking the tongs together every so often.

“You okay, Johnny-boy?” He twists his head and blinks at Manny, quickly grabbing his extended hand and shaking it.

“Uh, yeah,” Johnny mutters, “just…ah, it’s nothing.” He watches Manny nod, probably thinking Johnny has issues or something.

“Well, this is Claire,” the tanned boy gestures to Bubblegum Barbie now applying a bright shade of red lipstick with a handheld mirror, “and this is Taylor.” Manny nods towards the Annie Lennox-wannabe who doesn’t look up from their fruit salad.

“Yeah, we’ve met during check-in,” Claire smacks her lips as she finishes, putting away her mirror. Johnny nods and takes another bite of food, watching as Taylor looks up from their tray at Manny, almost scrutinizing him. He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything, not caring what drama they’re bringing to the table.

“So, I say we take care of washing out the canoes first, that way they can dry once the sun is out more. Then we tackle the rock climbing wall afterwards. Sounds good, team?” Manny claps his hands together, rallying their table’s attention to him. Taylor glances up, but merely nods before taking their tray back to the kitchen window. Johnny and Manny share a questioning look, but otherwise, just shrug, finishing their meal before taking off.

Manny leads the way to the lake, a long curling trail tip-toeing around the treeline to the east of camp. Johnny walks beside the guy, answering questions about karate and his favorite rock bands. Claire and Taylor hang back some, whispering when they think they can’t be heard. The blonde smirks at how… “high school” it all feels.

Once they reach the dock, Manny and Johnny unload the canoes from their storage rack, sliding them along the sandy shore for Taylor and Claire to push into the water. Once all of them are down and in the water, Claire and Johnny fill up buckets with soap and sponges, carrying them back to the dock.

As the blonde sets his bucket down by the other guy, he notices that there’s an awkward tension between Manny and Taylor. They aren’t speaking, but they’re definitely keeping distance between themselves. Drama queens.

Despite the rift between the two, the morning and early afternoon go smoothly; all of the canoes scrubbed and rinsed, now lying on the shore to dry. They start making their way back towards the campgrounds when the lunch bell rings. Claire pops a piece of gum in her mouth, offering a piece to Manny, who takes one with a smile. She offers the gum to Taylor and Johnny, but both refuse. Manny grins at Johnny, his eyes brighter in the afternoon sun.

During lunch, the blonde doesn’t spot the creepy lunch lady or the Kreeses, feeling himself relax a little. He even gets invited to sit at Manny’s table with Claire and Taylor, talking casually about colleges and adult life outside of school. He feels the tension in his neck loosen, thinking maybe this camp will actually be fun in a week.

Afterwards, the trio of counselors and Johnny head out to the rock climbing wall. Manny and Johnny carry the ropes and anchors over to the wall as Claire helps Taylor into the harness. Everything goes smoothly as they get the ropes hooked up, attaching the end of one to Taylor’s harness.

Before they start checking all of the climbing stones, Manny says he’ll be right back, heading towards the storage behind the main lodge in search for another screwdriver.

Taylor starts to climb up the wall with the other screwdriver; Claire standing nearby with the safety rope. Johnny climbs on the fence, sitting down to take a break while Taylor climbs.

“I just don’t understand,” Taylor huffs as they reach for another stone, “I know Manny. I’ve known him for a couple summers now.”

Claire sighs in frustration, clearly having to listen to this topic for a while.

“That’s rad, Spaz,” she exhales, tightening her grip on the rope as Taylor misses a rock, swaying slightly until they get their foot readjusted. “Manny’s totally cool, but maybe he changed during the year. Diff, ya know?”

Taylor pulls themself up further, shaking their head down towards Claire.

“Nah, dude, it’s not that he’s diff,” Taylor stretches their arm high over their head, “That’s not Manny.” Johnny frowns slightly, not liking the turn in conversation. He watches Claire tug on the rope, her head tilting in thought.

“What do you mean by that, Taylor?” she asks, slightly distant from her usual attitude. The Annie Lennox-wannabe stops, swinging in thought. A moment passes before Johnny hears them speak again.

“The person walking around as Manny…” Taylor looks up and reaches for a stone, “They’re not Manny.”

Whoosh.

The rope flies through the air and Johnny watches almost in slo-mo as Taylor's form falls, scrambling to catch onto something.

Johnny jumps to his feet, but Taylor jerks to a stop, dangling on the rope. He whips his head towards Claire, seeing her and Manny holding onto the rope tightly. With the older man’s help, Claire eases Taylor down to the ground. They seem shaken up, eyeing Manny suspiciously, but seeing no harm done, Johnny feels the spark of adrenaline dissipate. He runs a hand through his hair, calming down with a breathy laugh.

Until he hears a familiar whistle cut through the sunshine.

Turning towards the main path, he watches as John Kreese points towards the fenced deck further up the hill.

“You’ve got two minutes to meet me on the mats,” Kreese gruffly says, not facing him as he speaks. Johnny turns back to the counselors, watching as Claire helps Taylor out of the harness, apologizing again.

“Go ahead, man. We can finish up here,” Manny claps a hand on his shoulder with a soft smile. The blonde looks back to the other two, Claire lifting her head to meet his eyes. Her green eyes brighter and sharper in the lowering sunlight.

When he enters the ring, Kreese is in his usual black gi with wrapped hands, and surprisingly, James is also present, in grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt.

“Today, we’re going back to the baby basics for Mr. Lawrence,” Kreese sneers, his disappointment of the tournament still evident. “But you’re going to practice fighting two targets this time.” Johnny bites his tongue, not wanting to piss off Kreese by declining the practice.

Besides, he’s been wanting to punch something for the past few days.

He is forced to fight both brothers, trying to learn both men’s quirks and tells on the spot. Unfortunately, he makes a mistake. Then, another. Kreese yells at him, hitting harder than needed, drawing the other counselors’ attention. Johnny falls onto his ass, doing a kip up to get his feet square under him, when a fist drives itself into his jaw.

“Enough!” Johnny yelps, hopping backwards out of fighting distance. The sweat dripping from his bangs now stinging his eyes.

Kreese snarls, taking a step towards the boy, chambering another punch, when James steps in. He grabs onto the older man’s arm and talks lowly in his ear, hopefully trying to calm him down. James looks over at the boy for a moment.

“Go take a hike, kid. See you at dinner.” Johnny bows, the motion second nature to him, before he backs into the railing and swings under it. He slips on his shoes before jogging up the hill.

Johnny breathes heavily, rubbing his sore jaw as he hikes past his cabin, letting his feet take him along a northern dirt trail through the woods. Kicking at fallen leaves and snagging buried twigs along the trail, he comes across a much older cabin higher up on the hill. As he circles around it, he spots a dilapidated fence around it, hidden by brush and smaller trees. Not wanting to get too close to some hillbilly’s house in the middle of the woods, he keeps his distance, only noticing a few warning signs tacked onto the fence. Some in different languages he doesn’t know. And some in strange Viking runes of sorts. Maybe they’re a D&D nerd…

–

The next few days follow pretty much the same way. Johnny helps out some of the counselors around the campsite, or he’s forced to sit in on a safety meeting, before Kreese orders him to fight in the ring.

One night after dinner, he sees the Kreese brothers talking and drinking at the fire pit just beyond his cabin. Moving closer, the blonde overhears John asking James if he’s in any trouble with the local authority. James shrugs him off.

“Sheriff is just trying to step on my toes, trying to tell me how to run the camp.”

“The man did hire you.” James shakes his head, annoyed.

“The Sheriff recommended me, but I technically work for Jerry Pritchard,” James takes a drink from his beer. “Besides, the Sheriff wants things up here to be free-flowing and all that evangelical bullshit. But what is really going to make this camp work, to really strengthen these kids, is a heavier hand in their lives.”

John drinks to that, downing his beer before crushing the can and tossing it into the fire pit.

“So what’s with you?” James asks, tossing him another beer.

He cracks it open, before admitting that some of the seniors are quitting. “A bunch of weak-willed pussies with no actual brains.” The boy doesn’t even need to watch his face saying the words; he knows exactly what that disappointment and anger look like on Kreese’s face.

Johnny thinks of Bobby, Jimmy, Tommy, and Dutch. A warmth fills his chest as he imagines them telling their parents that they’re quitting. Johnny can’t wait to ride his bike by the dojo, seeing no one inside.

“I’ll need to head back to the city earlier than planned,” Kreese takes a swig of his beer with a grimace, “to straighten things out with these loser parents.”

Wait. Kreese is leaving early? Johnny ponders this, realizing that Kreese was his only way home. Is Kreese planning on leaving me here?

–

The next evening, the last before camp starts up, the practice is even more brutal for Johnny. He wanted to find the right moment to talk to his sensei, to see if he could head back to the city with him. But Kreese had other ideas. And those ideas were served with multiple punches to his eye and kicks to his ribs. Johnny could have run away, their fight not being supervised by James this time, but he wanted to prove to Kreese and himself that he wasn’t going to run from his problems. He could take the punishment if that’s what Kreese needed to forgive him for losing the tournament.

But by the time the dinner bell rang, Johnny finds himself stumbling back to his cabin with blood running down his cheek and no appetite. He grabs his Walkman without thinking, pulling the headphones on over his ears and passing out in his bunk without pressing play.

–

Johnny’s mind comes to when he hears a soft squeak in the distance. Just the stupid cabin making stupid cabin noises. His mind still fuzzy with sleep and his left eye now swollen shut, he tries to roll over onto his side, turning to face the wall. As his head turns, he’s aware of a pressure on his shoulder. He tries to pull his shoulder over his chest again, but that pressure increases, pinning his shoulder down into his sleeping bag.

Now annoyed that he’s more awake and that his shoulder doesn’t seem to be following mental orders, he cracks his other eye open and turns towards the bottom of the top bunk.

A pale square face stares back down at him with fierce, shining eyes.

Unblinking.

He immediately jolts to awareness, his natural instinct to shove the face away. A strong hand comes up from the darkness, wrapping cold fingers around his wrist. His arm is slammed onto the bed beside his ear, as the pressure on his shoulders lifts for a second. Only to pin his other wrist. He feels a thick leg settle next to his hip, the weight of someone now pressing down on his thighs. The face hangs over him, those glowing grey eyes searing into his.

Unblinking.

With a frustrated yell, Johnny thrusts his hips upwards, slamming into the other man’s hips and driving him forward. Those pale shining eyes fly over his head, heading straight into the cabin’s wall above his bed. Barely hearing the loud groan, the blonde yanks his wrists free, grabbing onto the back of the older man’s tricep and twisting his shoulder into his chest. Holding tightly onto the arm, he pushes off the mattress, flipping the older man over and off the bunk. A resounding thud echoes through the empty cabin as the larger man’s full weight falls from the bunk onto the cold wooden floor.

Johnny follows the flip and catches himself with a leg, faltering as his other leg gets tangled in the sleeping bag. He stumbles onto the floor, watching the military-built form of James Kreese cough and roll onto his side, pulling his legs under him. He pauses, turning his Kreese-like face over his shoulder, thin glowing yellow stripes stretching along his neck. A pressure wraps itself around Johnny’s throat as the man in front of him blurs into his older brother.

With a sharp yell, Johnny launches himself from the floor and latches onto the older man’s back, tightening his forearm against his throat. The man painfully sinks his fingers into the blonde’s arms, gripping and pulling at his bruised skin. The boy grits his teeth and tries to wrap a leg around one of James’, hoping to keep him unbalanced and on the floor.

But James had more combat training.

He rears back his elbow, jabbing it precisely into Johnny’s ribs and armpit, hitting any and all pressure points along his side. Johnny cries out, his arm immediately going numb and useless. Knowing he can’t do anything with just one arm, he loosens his grip, ready to throw himself backwards.

But James must have been thinking of his next moves. Before Johnny can release his arm from around his neck, the older man grabs onto it, yanking it forward and under him. Already unbalanced, Johnny feels his torso and body flip over the other man’s shoulder, a ‘pop’ sounding loudly in his ear as his shoulder starts to burn fiercely. He tries to scream once he catches his breath, but a large, cold hand grabs his jaw, covering his mouth tightly.

Johnny grabs onto James’ wrist, trying to rip it from his mouth, when the older man lifts his head and brings it back down, slamming the back of his head onto the floor. The boy’s vision swims, the moonlight sifting through the curtained windows going dim. Neon streaks of green and red swirl past those grey eyes as the hand lifts again, slamming him down again.

He tries to breathe, the sharp air wheezing through his bruised nose and over the thick and scarred fingers over his lips. A metallic taste lingers on his tongue, but his mind can’t place it. In fact, his mind can’t place any part of him right now. It’s like his legs are in one corner and his arms in another. But where’s his head?

As his eyes attempt to roll back, slowly readjusting before rolling again, then coming back to center, he wonders if his head is just rolling around. Like a soccer ball. Black and white, light and dark, cabin and grey eyes.

Something makes a noise above him, a huff or sigh or…

Something moves above him, almost searching…

Something opens its dark mouth, the white teeth gleaming in the moonlight. With a tug, something is uncorked, the cap popping open quietly.

“Johnny…”

Where did the cap go?

“Johnny, can you hear me?”

Johnny’s head rolls slowly around the room, looking for the missing cap.

“Johnny, this wasn’t meant to be a fight, okay?” He thinks there’s a voice speaking to him. “You don’t need to fight anymore. Not for us.”

The boy tries to shake his head, the hand holding him still. Something cold seeps between his shoulders, sticky in his hair.

“This isn’t a fight, Johnny,” those grey shining eyes come back into focus, “This is a gift.”

The hand over his mouth lets go, his lips desperately parting for more air. But then he feels something smooth and glassy against his lips. He tries to pull away, but strong fingers find their way into his tangled, sticky hair and they pull down hard, keeping his head still and his mouth open. The blonde blinks, trying to clear his vision, trying to get some control back into his limbs when the glass vial is tilted further into his mouth, almost pressing against his back teeth.

Slowly, he feels something drip onto and down his tongue, a slimy liquid that pours down his throat, forcing him to cough. But those fingers don’t let go. So, he squeezes his eyes shut, feeling tears leaking off of his eyelashes as his throat threatens to collapse, choking him.

With a gasp, all of his limbs fall silent. Every branch of his nervous system goes dark. Then the cold fire settles in.

He wants to scream, to yell for help or just to exhale all of the air in his body to get rid of this hellishly icy fire travelling through him. Through the pain, he can feel his back arching, all of his muscles clenching and contorting. A dark wave of cold washes over his vision, but he tries to keep looking up at the cabin ceiling. Again, the murky water washes over, but he tries so hard to stay conscious.

“Don’t fight, Johnny. Don’t speak,” that damn voice is still here. “Just listen and feel.”

The water comes in again and his eyes roll back into his head, finally giving into the darkness. Darkness, if that’s what you can call it.

Peering around, he knows that he’s underwater. He can feel the soft current flowing through his hair and the eerie weightlessness of his limbs as he floats in the dark. Sometimes, something pale and green will pass by, a broken stalk of seaweed floating just like him.

~We~lcom~E.

He squints into the abyss, searching for the source of the voice.

yo~u Are youn~er Than t~he oTher~s.
won~der wH~at y~ou can bri~ng mE.

He swims forward, thinking he found it. Nothing. He twirls in the water, looking into another dark corner. Maybe there?

As he swims forward again, strange bubbles swarm him, each with a reflective image. He sees his mom crying on the floor, the apartment door still open behind her. He sees Sid’s face, swelling over the tightly-pressed collar of his tuxedo shirt, his belt folded in his clenched hand.

He tries to swim backwards, away from the dark bubbles, when he feels something tug on him. Looking down, he can barely make out the pale green weeds, wrapping themselves around his legs and forearms. More bubbles float up out of the darkness towards him.

He sees his friends, all of them, painting white and black makeup on their faces. He sees Ali sitting next to her boombox on the beach, switching it on with a frown. And he sees Daniel LaRusso smiling as he skips towards him, his forehead bandaged, but his smile bright and untouched.

~i see a~ll oF y~ou no~w. ver~y Inte~reSti~ng, joH~nny ~la~wren~ce.

As he struggles in the weeds, their slimy leaves sliding between his toes, climbing higher and higher up his legs and arms, he feels…lighter. As if someone just seeing him, made everything okay. The warmth in his shoulder cools down and the pressure at the back of his head seems to soften. Even his breathing feels more natural and undeterred.

Johnny looks back through the dark water again, not looking for the source of the voice anymore. Because he’s already found it.

Almost as if it was the most natural place to be, a glowing figure swims down and hovers in front of him. Athletic, slim, tall, and any other word you could use to describe perfection… Johnny doesn’t need to say them. Because none of them really capture how perfect it is.

w~e are~ he~re f~or you.

A sudden exhaustion floods Johnny’s body as the figure’s glow dims, taking everything around them with it. Until there’s nothing but the sweet darkness that comes before a dream.

Chapter Text

The next day, the toll of the bell rings through the tall trees and across the quiet lake. Johnny groans, pulling the thin pillow over his head as the bell keeps…ringing… and ringing.

With a frown, the blonde curls in on himself, feeling stiff and cold in the crisp air regardless of the sleeping bag.

…

Wait.

Johnny cracks his eyes open, looking into the rays of sunlight sifting through the cabin windows. He stares at the dust motes hanging in the air, feeling a nauseating sense of deja vu.

Rubbing at his eyes with a yawn, the boy sits up, stretching his neck and shoulders. Despite sleeping in a bunk with a shitty mattress, the boy feels incredibly well-rested. He squints towards the window, hearing footsteps coming up the path. He stands up, stretching his back and chest, before an energetic knocking sounds from the front door. Moving away from the bunk, he feels something under his foot, right before he takes a step.

Looking down, he frowns, seeing his Walkman and headphones on the floor. But as he lifts his foot, he finds a white plastic cap sitting right-side up. Picking it up, he turns it over, not sure what it could have gone to… Too small for a soda bottle, too big for a toothpaste cap…

The door creaks open and Manny peers in, smiling widely at the sleepy blonde in grey sweatpants.

“Thought you could sleep the whole day away, huh?” The older guy tosses a shirt onto the table then leans against the door. “We missed you at breakfast.” Breakfast?

Just the thought of food sends a horribly loud rumble of hunger through his stomach, craving anything and everything. Johnny’s face blossoms with red heat as Manny laughs at the noise.

“Well, if you hurry up, you won’t miss lunch, kid.” Lunch? What time is it? How did I sleep so long? Johnny nods, grabbing the freshly washed camp t-shirt from the table and pulling it on over his head.

“Sorry I slept so late,” the blonde mumbles as he grabs a pair of navy shorts and striped crew socks from his bag. “I bet sensei will kill me later for it…” he whispers quietly to himself.

He hears Manny chuckle by the door; strangely good at hearing, Johnny figures. He slips off his pants and into the shorts, tugging the socks over his feet before he gets up in search of his sneakers.

“Don’t worry about him, dude,” Manny grins, pushing off of the door, “But know this: if I have to make the long trek back up this hill again, I’ll be the one killing you.” Johnny looks over at the tanned older guy, watching the teasing smile not quite meet his bright, shining brown eyes. He notices that Manny doesn’t blink much, but at least the stare isn’t like that eerie lunch lady…

“C’mon, blondie,” Manny steps out of the cabin onto the wooden steps, “Let’s grab food before crazy Edna bans us from the kitchen.”

Edna? Is that the old lady’s name?

Johnny follows after Manny, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Hi, Manny! Hi, Johnny!” The boy looks up and spots the cute dark-skinned girl, her long legs glistening in the sunlight as she crosses over to the main lodge. Manny waves back casually, before nudging the blonde with his elbow, noticing his hesitation.

“H-hey, Cynthia!” he hollers back, lifting his hand in a small wave. Cynthia. That’s her name. He slows his steps for a beat, trying to remember when he actually introduced himself and got her name. No answer coming to mind, he shakes his head and jogs to keep up.

The two enter the main lodge, heading towards the kitchen windows along the back wall, grabbing trays and food. The old lady is there, handing out french fries with her tongs.

Click click.

Johnny feels a shiver run down his back, but he tries to turn his frown into a smile, a tight-lipped smile that barely curls upward.

“Thanks, Edna.” She blinks and smiles back, much warmer than his.

“You’re absolutely welcome, blue eyes. Nice to have you with us.”

He stops, her words feeling strange in his head. But he shakes that off too, and makes his way towards the table Manny, Claire, and Taylor occupy. Claire looks up from her food and smiles brightly at the boy.

“Hey, pretty boy,” she sings sweetly, an unmistakable tone of sugary taunting, “Decided to actually come down and help us? Or were you just going to wait until the campers were here?” Johnny rolls his eyes, popping a french fry into his mouth.

“Yeah, I figured I should probably come down and give you older folk some direction and guidance,” he grins, the teasing coming more naturally the more he’s around Manny and Claire. “In case you forget anything.” Manny laughs and reaches over, ruffling his already messy bedhead. Johnny playfully shoves the older boy’s hands away, noticing just how quiet Taylor is across from him. They poke at a french fry with a fork, glancing up at the others occasionally.

He wants to say something, at least say hello, but the voice in the back of his head argues that maybe Taylor is having an off day, wanting the space and quiet. He watches for another second before turning back to his own food.

“So what do we have to do before kiddos arrive?” he asks, dipping fries into ketchup.

“You’re one to talk, kid,” Manny rocks his shoulder into Johnny’s. “Uh, we already cleared the trash from the cabins, and Cynthia and Rob swept all of the cabins. So I think we just need to organize the check-in table and put up signs for parking before they start showing up in a few hours.”

Johnny nods, his eyes falling on Taylor again. For some reason, among so many different counselors and staff, Taylor looks and feels out of place. His eyes fall over the rest of the room, and two others stand out against the crowd. Chad McMuscles and Stevey A.V., the resident video nerd. Before he can question why he feels this way, the voice in the back of his mind shrugs the thought away. That’s how I got into this mess…picking on people.

–

The rest of the afternoon passes by quickly, the excitement of camp finally settling into the campgrounds and the counselors. As Johnny walks back down the hill from his cabin, having showered and cleaned up his bunk, he watches as the cars start to fill the parking lot. Numerous parents and children and teens filter through the main lodge and back to their cars, grabbing their belongings before walking towards their assigned cabins.

Johnny finds Manny and JD, the band geek, hanging out behind the wrestling mats and smoking. He declines a cig, but hangs with them until someone rings the camp bell. They jump off the railing, walking down and goofing off until Johnny sees James standing stiffly next to the bell.

Suddenly, his vision cracks and a flash of silvery shining eyes stare back at him. He swallows, the taste of blood strangely lingering on his tongue. James Kreese slowly turns, his eyes locking onto Johnny. He puffs out his chest, smiling proudly, as he gestures with his chin to follow inside.

Johnny walks up to the older man, his legs moving without a second thought. A creeping sensation of ghostly fingers pulls on his hair, a heavy pressure in his chest as his mind floats with empty thoughts. The boy stops in front of the man who almost looks like his teacher, almost.

“John had to leave,” James shifts his stance, lowering his voice, “I’m sorry you missed him.”

The memory of Kreese talking angrily, illuminated by the fire pit, flashes before his eyes before a rough pain skims past his throat. The blonde reaches up, gingerly touching his throat with a frown. Sensei left him. He had one chance to make things right and he blew it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watches James pull a long strip of black fabric from his pocket, handing it over.

“Must’ve left your headband at practice yesterday. No worries, I washed and took care of it for you.” Johnny lets the fabric fall onto his fingers, his heart twisting in knots.

He remembers when Ali gave it to him two years ago, when they first started dating. Even though she couldn’t know it at the time, karate was his first love; and it was the most thoughtful present he had ever gotten. From anyone. He also remembers being so incredibly nervous for his first All Valley tournament that his hands were shaking too much to tie it on. So Kreese took it from him, and with the smoothest motion, he tied it around his blonde hair, brushing his bangs aside. The man had been there when

Johnny fell in love with karate, and he had been there when he needed karate. But now, where was he when Johnny hated karate?

“Hey, you’re needed here.” James points out, placing his hand heavily on Johnny’s shoulder and twisting him towards the front doors. “This camp needs you. We need you. Don’t forget that.”

Johnny walks into the lodge, being steered towards the front by the fireplace. With a clap on his shoulder, the older man lets go and the boy falls back, standing behind James Kreese. The blonde feels irritated and angry and hurt, but he grips the headband tightly in his hand, pulling it across his forehead and tying it in the back. As the campers file into the room, taking their seats at the folding tables, Johnny feels a weird rush of calmness wash over him, subduing any emotions from breaking free.

James Kreese and Freddy Higgins start the evening with a loud welcome and some announcements and rules for camp. The boy stands behind them, not fully paying any attention until the adults start introducing the staff. As Freddy tries to pump up the enthusiasm of some of the counselors, Johnny hears a very familiar Jersey accent cut through the din, whispering loudly to some of the kids surrounding him.

As his eyes float across the tables, landing on the dark hair and wide eyes, he can’t help but stare in shock. Daniel LaRusso chuckles with another teen, before looking towards the front of the room again. Something pulls at the blonde and he takes a step forward, stepping out from behind James. As he does, LaRusso’s eyes clock the movement and his eyes fall on him, widening in surprise or fear or just recognition, Johnny doesn’t know.

Johnny tries to look away quickly, scowling as an embarrassing blush spreads across his face and neck, his cheeks flushed with heat.

A tickling feeling crawls along the back of his neck, at the base of his skull, like a spider or centipede. He reaches a hand back, terrified to discover whatever creepy-crawly is hanging on his shirt.

But he finds nothing.

He scrapes his fingernails on his skin slightly, the ghostly itch lingering on the surface.

Again, his eyes land on the brunette, the boy’s friendly smile faltering as he whispers with the others at his table. Johnny is reminded of a time when he was the one whispering with his friends, picking up Tommy’s blueberry pie with intent to prank the dark-haired boy. He hears and feels the whispers of the brunette’s tongue, hanging in the air around him. The air grows stuffy and he feels the tickle of those crawling legs on his neck again.

As he scratches his neck again, deeper, fiercer, his vision swims, and the walls in the lodge swell. Like a ripple on water, he sees the planks of wood split and breathe, something moving under them. Staring at a dark knot in the wood across from him, he falls into dark waters, the rippling reaching his cheeks and ears. As the water rises and clouds his vision, he sees an older woman turning back towards him, smiling in some sort of understanding or acceptance or some other elderly show of dementia. He blinks and tries to turn away from the vision, only seeing the fist before it could actually hit him. He blinks again, watching the dark frame of James Kreese throw another angry fist towards him.

As the flashes disperse, he takes a shaky breath, glancing up at the larger man next to him. James stands patiently while Freddy goes over a map of the campsite, pointing out important buildings for everyone to be aware of. As Johnny continues to look up at James, the older man scowls, not looking down at him.

“Attention,” he roughly whispers, “Eyes to the front, soldier.”

So Johnny does just that; he stands up straighter and directs his eyes forward, spotting that dark knot of wood spiraling across from him.

Throughout dinner, Johnny keeps his face locked into a stoic frown, his burning thoughts currently locked in an annoying battle of wits and fists and kicks, only talking to James and other counselors if spoken to. He keeps scratching at the base of his skull, feeling and occasionally catching LaR- Daniel staring at him from across the room.

Daniel.

He’s not sure why his mind decided to call him Daniel, a fuzzy cloud of buzzing hums and clicks greets him anytime he tries to think about it. Maybe it’s the high altitude or maybe it’s his mind trying to push past the valley rivalry. Fine. I’ll call him Daniel here. But only here.

After dinner, Freddy calls the counselors up to the front for cabin assignments. Claire and Marion, one of the nursing assistants, are called first, taking eighteen of the campers with them to cabin 1. He rolls his eyes and smirks as she pops a loud bubble with her gum in the kids’ faces. Cabin 2 with Manny follows, in which he tries to play the cool counselor card by sliding on some sunglasses before walking out into the night. Taylor takes cabin 3 with a shy and awkward wave, followed by the rest of the cabins being called until Freddy gets to the last one: cabin 7.

The squirrely man looks around, calling for Betty, before turning an agonizing grimace towards James. The older man stands behind the counselor table, crossing his arms in thought.

“John can take them,” he finally replies; Johnny’s head shooting up from the scratched graffiti on the table he was focused on. Freddy sighs loudly, relieved that they didn’t have to re-organize the counselors to help cover the remaining kids. Tapping fingers on the clipboard, Freddy gets their anxiety back under control and starts calling the campers’ names.

A heavy hand clamps down on Johnny’s shoulder as he stands up from the table.

“I’m giving you an order to act as an extension of myself,” Johnny tilts his head in question. “Anyone gets out of line, don’t be afraid to dole out punishment.”

Memories flash before his eyes, of Sid screaming in his face, his breath hot on Johnny’s skin, and Kreese’s arm around his neck, strangling him. He feels a sudden light-headedness as it feels like the memories were ripped from his skull.

But James’ hand keeps him anchored and standing. He squeezes that hand tightly.

“Exactly. Control with an active hand. Don’t wait for things to get worse.” Johnny’s eyes skim over the heads of ten teenagers, stopping on the dark waves of Daniel fucgtkig Larsdfgo. Daniel. Johnny nods.

“Yes, sir.”

Chapter Text

Johnny laughs to himself, as more kids huff and groan behind him, not at all used to the hike up the hill towards cabin 7. Thankfully, the night is pretty chilly and dark, so no one can see the light sheen on his neck and forehead. He lets his gaze float up towards the night sky, peeking through the sharp tops of the black, stretching tree tops. The sky quivers, filling with dark water and the stars becoming glittering fish bones trapped in the sand.

His thoughts are broken by the breathless giggles coming from the back of the group. Daniel is already making friends with two kids, one slightly taller than Johnny with wavy light-brown hair and the other dark-skinned and stocky, his hair fading into a blocky afro. Johnny bites his lip in annoyance, that crawling feeling irritating him again. Of course Daniel fucwhdg Lardfgsdo was here. It wasn’t enough that he kicked his ass at the tournament. He scratches at the base of his neck, his fingernails sinking into his skin with each stroke. No friends, no sensei, no Ali, no family. Just Daniel. His vision swims again, almost forcing him to stumble when he hears a short yelp behind him.

He spins on his heel, frowning down at a four-eyed girl with a gnarly bowl cut and a frumpy neon sweater. She grabs onto another girl with a frizzy red side ponytail, both girls starting to back away from the group. Terror painted their pale faces in the dark shadows of the night.

“I-I saw something move!”

“We saw someone in t-there!”

Johnny raises an eyebrow and looks over his shoulder at the dark building, sitting quietly and waiting. Like a shark. Or a spider.

Cabin 5B.

“There’s no way you saw someone,” he says, pointing to the yellow caution tape across the doors. “It’s off-limits. No way inside.” He turns back to the group, the girls shaking their heads feverishly.

“I promise,” the redhead speaks, her breath trembling, “We saw someone in there. They walked right by the window.” Johnny sighs and places his hands on his hips. Control.

“Fine. I’ll take a closer look in the windows, but you all stay. right. here.” His eyes land on Daniel, pointedly pinning the boy with a glare. Daniel doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move, just stands there with his wide deer eyes.

Johnny turns his back to the group, inching slowly towards the cabin and clicking on his flashlight. He hops over the thin porch, placing his fingers on the windowsill for balance. With one hand holding onto the dusty, paint-chipped wood, he raises the flashlight up, pointing it through the dust-covered and cobweb-padded window.

He pans it across the glass, squinting into the dark room, trying to follow the small beam of light falling on the floor and bunkbeds.

Someone coughs nervously behind him; a rock tumbles down the hill as someone shifts their feet anxiously.

Johnny presses his face closer to the glass, the tip of his nose almost touching the layer of dust. As his light scans the room again, his eyes gloss over the strange shape in the corner.

Shaking his head, he jumps down from the cabin and starts to walk over to the group of kids. He keeps his flashlight low to the road, keeping the forest dark and unknown.

He steps once, then twice, before stopping. His tired face twisting in confusion, in dismay, before falling into pure terror. His wide blue eyes tilt upwards slowly, past the group of kids standing on the dark path.

He takes in a trembling breath, not sure if he should scream.

The kids watch in horror as their counselor stands so close, yet so far away, paralyzed with fear. The two girls shuffle their feet, following his gaze towards the darkness behind them. The others follow suit, including Daniel; his dark eyes unblinking in sudden fear and uncertainty.

As the kids peer into the darkness, Johnny finally moves, slowly tilting his flashlight’s beam across their backs and up into trees.

The light catches a thick tree branch, until it catches another then another. Long spiny legs pull themselves free of the wooded darkness, growing in the pale light that shakes across them.

Towering over the group, the light snags on the rough edges of its sharp teeth and angular jaw.

A younger boy screams, bolting towards Johnny and shoving himself into his thigh. The piercing sound echoes in the night, causing a few others to scream and yell.

Everyone swings their arms and legs backwards in defense, one large mass of terrified limbs and unblinking eyes.

Johnny laughs.

And laughs.

Until his ribs ache and his chest burns. He wipes at his eyes as the group all turn their heads in disbelief of the sound. Which makes him laugh even more. He lowers his hands onto his knees, trying to take a breath without chuckling.

More feet shift uncomfortably, not wanting to let down their guard.

The blonde shines his flashlight onto the pale swirling face of the beast and lets it illuminate the cracked bark and broken branches for a moment, allowing their eyes to finally see the truth.

It’s just a tree. A fallen tree standing slightly upright on its lower branches.

He’s awarded with embarrassed groans and dejected whimpers, as some of the older kids turn their faces away or scowl at him. He smirks, straightening up, his eyes landing on Daniel.

Daniel rolls his eyes at the blonde’s antics, his face flushed with adrenaline and his hands locked over his chest, ready for an attack. He drops them quickly, pulling his stance in with a sigh. His new tall friend claps him on the back and grabs at his own shirt, laughing through nervous breaths. Johnny’s smile falls and he tilts his head slightly. The crawling moves from his neck to his left ear, desperately trying to find a way to crawl in and whisper to him. He scratches at the skin again, turning away from the brunette.

Johnny continues the hike up the rest of the hill, the group quietly following in a shameful reluctance to look around into the forest around them. He shoves the door open lightly, flicking on the ceiling lights above. The group surges into the cabin, the younger kids immediately showing off their sleeping bags on their bunks. The older teens gather around the table or hit the bathroom. His quiet and clean cabin is now reaching decibels his head can’t handle.

He bites his tongue and frowns, wanting to tell everyone to shut up and go away, but instead, walks over to his bunk in the corner, flopping down and placing his arms behind his head. As Johnny observes everyone moving throughout his space, he realizes that the sleeping arrangements have forced Daniel to bunk next to Johnny’s.

The shorter brunette saunters over, his eyes falling on his bunk before falling on the long blonde next to it. Johnny chuckles to himself, imagining the twerp’s brain short-circuiting as he comes to the same conclusion. With a deflating sigh, Daniel reaches his arm up and presses it on the side of the bunk, leaning against the post at the end of the bed.

“So, h-how have you been?” he says lightly, his eyes still glued to the floor under Johnny’s bed.

“What do you want, Newark?” Something moves under his ear and he lifts a hand to scratch at the soft skin under his lobe. Stupid bugs…Must have come out when more people showed up. The brunette bites on his thumbnail in annoyance at the nickname, but doesn’t say anything about it. He lifts his eyes in a stubborn glare.

“C’mon, man. Why can’t you open up and talk like a normal human being?” Suddenly, Johnny’s vision in his left eye blurs, a throbbing red cloud obscuring his vision. He rubs at his eye, not able to clear it, but he still feels like he knows exactly what is going on around him. Like, he can mentally picture every detail of the room, just not from his actual eye. Blinking, he notices that the Jersey voice has stopped.

“...You okay, Johnny?” In a second, his eye is back to normal, just a little blurry. He rubs his eye again, for good measure, before swinging out of his bunk and pushing past the annoying worrywart.

The blonde pulls his whistle out of his pocket and blows a curt call. Everyone stops and turns to look at him.

“Lights out in 15 minutes! I want asses in bunks before then!” The noise and chatter pick back up after Johnny turns back to his bunk. Daniel is still standing there, now right in his way. His eyes glance to the side, seeing the small gap the other boy has to squeeze through. He crosses his arms with a smug smile, leaning more onto the bed post.

The taller boy narrows his eyes at the challenge. He takes a step forward, placing his foot in between Daniel’s. He raises his arm up and grabs onto the upper railing of the bunk, his elbow close to the side of Daniel’s head. Leaning in close, his blonde hair falls softly into his eyes.

“You may have beaten me out there,” he licks his lips, leaning in further as Daniel starts to pull away, “But the only rules in here…are mine.” Daniel’s dark eyes finally lock onto his, a curious determination in his gaze. But as he leans too far back, he finds himself falling onto his bunk, bumping his head on the upper railing. The boy hisses and rubs the back of his head, watching as Johnny easily walks between their bunks and sits down.

The blonde pulls his Walkman out of his sleeping bag and puts his headphones on. But he doesn’t rewind his tape, and doesn't play any music. He just listens to all of the conversations around him, pretending not to watch them. It was something he picked up a few years ago before he started at the dojo. People always say whatever they want when they think someone isn’t listening.

Case in point: he’s very aware of the shorter boy next to him. Daniel huffs in defeat, sliding off the mattress to unroll his sleeping bag. After that, he places his shoes and bag under the bunk. He stills and reaches over to touch something on the floor.

Johnny can’t see what he’s looking at, but Daniel’s quiet voice to himself cuts through with a chill.

“Is that blood?” Blood?

He feels the brunette look up at him, but the blonde keeps his eyes looking up at the bunk over him, tapping nervously on his leg. He glances at the face of his watch, nearing the fifteen minute time. He swings his legs over the bed and Daniel sits down across from him, letting him through with a small pout twisting his lips.

Johnny walks over to the light switch, flipping it down and plunging the cabin in dark shadows and moonlight. He waits for a moment by the door, hearing last-minute shuffling and ‘good nights’ to newly-made friends. Breaths even out and everyone settles into their bunks. The blonde heads back to his bed, pulling his shirt off and slipping into his grey sweatpants. Daniel rolls over and stares at Johnny. Johnny feels another wave of heat brush over his cheeks and ears. He’s probably just jealous that my arms look better than his…

The taller boy slides his long legs into his sleeping bag and holds his Walkman on his chest. He closes his eyes.

Okay, even with his eyes closed, Johnny can tell he’s still staring.

He opens his eyes and pulls off his headphones.

“What do you want?” he asks in a quiet, but subdued whisper.

Daniel blinks back in stunned silence, not expecting a conversation.

“Uh, I just wanna know how you’re doing,” his dark eyes falling down his face and towards his neck. The slight pressure makes itself known, coiling around his throat. Johnny covers up his neck with his hand.

“I’m fine,” he says simply, swallowing the nerves. They stare at each other in the dark for a moment longer; the sounds of breathing and light snores singing around them. Johnny clears his throat quietly.

“Why are you here?” the blonde asks, deciding that this was the only time he was going to speak with the Jersey boy.

“My ma got a transfer to Fresno for the summer, which I really didn’t wanna go up there. And Mr. Miyagi’s guest room wasn’t ready yet. Which I probably coulda just slept in the main dojo room, but Mr. Miyagi snores really loud. And let me tell ya, that’ll keep you up all night. I know first-hand,” the brunette rambles in a low voice. “So my ma thought a summer camp might be a good experience or whateva, until Mr. Miyagi can take me in. Guess it beats staying at home alone or in Fresno.”

The boy finally stops and takes a breath, moving his hand to prop up his head more comfortably. Johnny just nods silently against his pillow, surprised at how casual Daniel can talk to him. Maybe that’s why he’s so good at making friends…and enemies, wherever he goes. He just talks their ears off.

“So why are you here, Johnny?” The boy’s Jersey accent cuts through his thoughts. “Is this a summer job or somethin’? ‘Cause I was thinkin’ of hitting up some places in the Valley once this is over. Ya know, to save for school or somethin’.”

Why are you here? He feels where James squeezed his shoulder earlier, and can hear where the glass twinkled against his legs and back, as Kreese punches through the windows above him. They turn their faces back to him, melding into one glowing figure.

Why are you here?

“I’m needed here,” he blurts out, coming back to his body.

“What was that?” Daniel asks in confusion, but Johnny rolls over, his back to the other boy.

“I don’t know, man. You’re not as good at cryptic messages like Mr. Miyagi is.” Johnny bristles, tired of hearing about Daniel’s old man, and now being compared to him. Or, in contrast to him.

Johnny rolls back over, hopping out of his bunk and leaning over the brunette. He places his hand on the boy’s pillow, moving his face in closer.

“Maybe what I’m saying isn’t a puzzle. Maybe I’m simply saying what I mean. And maybe this is the only place I’m safe.”

Daniel gulps and nods slowly, the blonde boy’s neck in clear view. His eyes lower to the dark greenish-red bruises laying over his clavicle. Johnny watches out of the corner of his eye as the boy lifts a hand towards him, hovering just below his throat, before dropping it back on the bed.

Johnny, taking his silence for acquiescence, takes a shaky breath and runs his hand through his hair. He gets back into his bunk and rolls over, curling his legs into his chest.

He hears the other boy drop his head onto his pillow before rolling the other way. He pictures those dark eyes looking up at him again, not in fear or hatred, but in curiosity and determination.

“I promise you’ll be safe here too,” he whispers before he closes his eyes.

Chapter Text

Creak.

Creeeeaaak.

Johnny wakes up to the small sounds of giggling and the creaking of the old bunks as kids try to climb down quietly. Cracking one of his eyes open, he squints at his watch, deciphering the numbers with a distaste. I guess I should wake people up for breakfast?

He sits up soundlessly, his messy blonde hair hanging down in his eyes. He turns his head towards the rest of the cabin as he hears the younger kids pulling on shoes and tying their laces, whispering to each other.

He stands up and stretches his neck, the movement fluid and silent. Still not discovered, the blonde lightly smirks, the tiredness still driving his body this early.

Johnny reaches into his pocket and pulls out the small metal whistle on the bright blue lanyard, placing it between his teeth and inhaling slowly. He softly pads his way towards the front door, leaning against it in wait.

The kids grab their lanyards and water bottles, checking in with each other quietly. The older boy just tilts his head, amused at their camaraderie. Before they can turn around, Johnny plugs his ears with his fingers and musically blows through his whistle, something along the lines of the ‘Centerfold’ melody.

After a chorus of wailing squeals, he stops, grinning at all of the half-awake panicked faces now staring at him from every bunk. The four youngest campers of the cabin stand in the center of the room, staring back in ashamed terror and incredulous defeat. Stealthily caught before they even escaped. One middle school-aged boy stares at his shoes, scuffing it at the wood floor, another stands slightly behind him, opening and closing his mouth around what might be his next and final words. And the two young girls stand holding their striped water bottles, twisting and pulling at their ponytails and braids nervously.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Johnny asks, letting the whistle fall from his mouth and hang around his neck. The cabin falls silent again, before one of the girls steps up.

“We just wanted to, like, walk around before everyone woke up.” Another camper yawns behind them, prompting more yawns and shuffling in the bunks. The blonde pushes off the door and steps towards the group.

“Well, you’ll get plenty of walking later today,” he smiles, a playful edge to his words, before he raises his voice to the rest of the cabin. “Alright, snoozers, up and at ‘em. Breakfast is in 30 mins.”

–

The afternoon sun was high, and so was the temperature.

And so was this fucking cliff.

“C’mon, guys!” a cheerful tenor voice calls out from the top of the ridge, “And girls! And all of those in between! Just a little further!”

Johnny’s head falls backwards onto his sweaty shoulders, his eyes shooting daggers up at Counselor Aaron’s stupid ass, climbing about 20 feet up an actual fucking rock wall. The older man is definitely larger and more fit than Johnny, the perfect beachy blonde Brad for a lifeguard. But that’s the issue: they still haven’t made it to the lake.

He hears a similar groan, his eyes sneaking a glance at the shorter brunette standing next to him, crossing his arms in an angry pout. Even in white tank tops and light-colored shorts, they’re both covered in sweat and melting sunscreen. The taller boy’s eyes fall on the black brace wrapped around the other’s boy’s left knee. He can imagine the tension and pressure of the wrapping, and the scratchy irritation from the velcro. The snake coils tighter around his throat and he shivers.

‘Sweep the leg.’

He pictures the Jersey boy’s leg sliding out from under him, useless and unable to hold his weight. A stagnant breeze comes alive and slithers across his shoulders, peeking out from behind to leer at the other boy. Johnny shakes off the strange feeling of being watched, the heat slamming into him again. There was no way Daniel was going to be able to make it up this ridge if he had to climb.

“Hey, Counselor Asshat, I don’t think we’re going the right way,” Johnny calls up to the muscled ham helping another teen over the top of the ridge.

“What?” Aaron calls down, squinting and cupping his ear. That idiot can hear me; I know he can. The blonde balls his fists against his hips, refusing to start climbing.

“I’m pretty sure ‘hike’ to the lake didn’t include a rock-climbing portion,” he calls up to the lifeguard, watching him try to encourage a smaller kid, too terrified to move further than two feet up. The older man sighs and pulls out a folded paper from his pocket.

“No, no, this is definitely the way,” he calls down, raising the paper in the air, “Freddy gave me a map, dude!” Johnny pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. He sees the black brace out of the corner of his eye. No way this is correct.

“Hey, toss the map down here! I wanna see,” Johnny looks back up, readying his hands to catch it.

Aaron tosses it with a huff and Johnny almost bumps into Daniel trying to catch it. The blonde unfolds it, laying it flat on the ground. He grabs some small scattered rocks, placing them on the corners of the map as paperweights. Then, he finds a thin twig, placing it diagonally on the paper.

“What’re you doin’?” Daniel asks, hovering over him curiously.

“Actually reading the damn map,” Johnny grumbles, wiping the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand before it can fall into his eyes.

“You know how to do that?” the brunette leans down further, placing his hands on his knees. “Wait, were you one of those nerdy Boy Scouts? Ya know, like obsessed with knots and how to make a fire and stuff?” Daniel tries to hold in a smile, looking at the blonde as if he figured out the meaning to life or whatever. Johnny blows the hair from his face and turns, glaring at the boy who is now inches from his face. His breath catches and he has to tear himself away, his scowl turning red and hot across his probably sunburned cheeks.

“No, you idiot,” he hisses, resuming his calculations on the paper, “Kreese i- was a military guy. He taught me how to read maps.”

A beat of silence before Daniel speaks again.

“For karate?”

Johnny turns back to the boy leaning over him and frowns.

“No,” he argues, biting his lip nervously, “Just ‘cause. I mean, I guess for karate, too…Sometimes we’d train in the woods, at Coyote Creek, and then he’d give me a map and tell me to find my way back to the car.” Johnny watches Daniel’s face relax before his eyebrows pinch together in question. The blonde inhales slowly through his nose, trying to calm his anxiety at being judged by the brunette.

“Soooo….you do know how to tie knots and make fires?” Rolling his eyes, Johnny shoves the kid’s face away with his hand, making sure to not force him on his bad knee. Not that I care. I just don’t want to carry him down the damn hill…

Turning back to the map, Johnny allows a smile to peek through, his face hidden by his shaggy hair, of course. He would never admit to actually enjoying the company. Especially Daniel’s. And especially to Daniel.

He lifts his head briefly, just to look around and get his bearings, before folding up the map and standing up. He strolls to the bottom of the ridge, wincing as a heavier teen grabs onto a loose rock and slides back down roughly.

“Hey!” he calls up to Aaron giving a girl with braces a high-five, “We overshot the path. We need to head back a ways and then up.” Aaron stares down at the blonde, his MTV smile falling into a grimace.

“What? No, no, I was just- I mean, this was- a shortcut!” he flounders, not even noticing the little kid below him, desperately trying to get his attention for help over the top. “Yeah, if you guys wanna go back and take the long baby trail, go right ahead. But Counselor Freddy totally told me this was the right path.”

Daniel snorts in disbelief behind him, kicking a nearby rock for extra emphasis. But the challenge lingers in the air and Johnny tenses as he weighs the pros and cons of climbing the fucking wall.

Pros: Johnny can prove he’s not a wuss to another annoying adult in his life. Also, it might be funny to watch La- Daniel struggle a bit.

Cons: He just really doesn’t want to. Also, it’s kinda his fault Daniel is still injured.

Johnny’s vision blurs briefly, probably sweat or sunscreen dripping into his eyes. He rubs his left eye, the irritation causing his view of the sky through the leaves to bloom bright red. As he blinks, he looks down at himself from the top of the ridge. He watches from behind Aaron’s crouched form as the shorter brunette looks up from his feet and towards the blonde.

“Johnny? You okay?” the boy asks, stepping a little closer to the taller boy. Even though Johnny must be twenty or so feet above them, it was like he could hear the other boy clearly right behind him.

He blinks again and the redness fades as he stares at the rocky wall in front of him. Another breeze cuts through the trees and falls across his shoulders, hanging onto his warm skin; something waiting in anticipation.

“We’ll take the long correct trail and meet you up there,” he decides, calling up to the older blonde. He hears a soft sigh of relief behind him, but doesn’t turn around. He’s not doing this for Daniel; he’s doing it for himself. …Right?

Right. Don’t forget who’s in control.

“Can we take the long way, too?” a young shy voice pipes up and Johnny turns to see a group of four kids standing nervously off to the side. Johnny places his hands on his hips and directs his gaze towards Aaron, waiting for a response with a raised eyebrow.

“Alright, fine,” Aaron finally grabs onto the small boy weakly hanging onto the ledge, “But blow your whistle if you get lost or whatever.”

Johnny smirks before steeling his features, confident and commanding like a leader.

Like Kreese.

“Alright, dorks, follow me,” he starts off back the way they came, towards the actual path. The kids fall in quietly and he can hear the distinctive sound of Daniel following, his left knee slightly shuffling the leaves and dirt as he steps.

Once they’re out of the small clearing, the tall oak trees close them in, their vibrant wide green leaves blocking most of the blistering sunlight from falling on them. After a few minutes, the campers start to whisper and giggle, conversing to pass the time.

Most of the conversations seem to be trivial: what’s for dinner tonight, what camp activities they’re excited about, making fun of Counselor Aaron- Johnny snickers at this particular part- and if there are any cool stories about the area. One kid, with dark short hair and a bright plastic inhaler attached to his lanyard, carries a camcorder in one hand, claiming he’ll be ready to capture anything ‘cool’ during camp.

As for the other two, Johnny and Daniel walk in a somewhat comfortable silence. It’s a little unnerving how calm and quiet Daniel is, the blonde only knowing the bratty, talkative side of the other boy. Must be the heat melting his brain.

“Hey, Counselor Johnny,” the heavier olive-skinned teen calls out, “What’s that over there?” Johnny’s heart skips a beat, immediately halting, alert and whipping his head in the direction the kid is pointing. He squints and sees the top of an old cabin, dark and partially consumed by the trees and vegetation growing around it. He scouts a few feet to the right and left of it, spotting the strange signs plastered around the overgrown fence. It’s the old cabin he had walked by a week ago, when he was hiking in the woods, trying to cool off after the rough karate practice. That lingering ghost of a breath, lurking under his skin and between his shoulder blades, extends its nails and bares its fangs. A darkness settles in the back of Johnny’s mind and suddenly, he’s angry. He’s annoyed. He’s afraid.

A low growl rumbles in his throat, the vibrations pulling him back to his body and the kids around him.

“It’s nothing,” he grounds out, forcing his legs to stumble back into a rhythm of walking. “Just an old cabin,” he whispers to himself, trying to reassure himself as he turns his back to the hovel.

Johnny walks a few steps, noticing that the campers are not really following after him. A few kids linger behind, itching to get better views of the mysterious cabin. The geeky kid with the camcorder tiptoes further into the woods, heading towards the fence. Johnny can hear whispers calling out to him, both encouraging his trek out there and trying to persuade him back to the group. The blonde stops, his shoulders tense with irritation. He shoves past the brunette standing behind him, and quickly strides over to the boy, yanking him back by his shirt, almost knocking the kid onto his ass.

“Hey, man!” The heavier teen rushes over, grabbing onto Johnny’s upper arm. Without thinking, the blonde swipes his grubby hands off of him, letting go of the geek’s shirt. He quickly slides behind the larger target and punches him in the kidney, causing the teen to double over with a cry.

“Johnny, stop!” Daniel hurries over with a wide-eyed frown, his left knee sweeping in an arc slightly. He raises his hands defensively towards the taller boy, as a sign of no threat, but the blonde’s vision flashes briefly, like swimming in dark murky water, and the pressure in his shoulders wrap around, hugging his throat. The sudden pressure and unclear fear causes him to raise his fist, ready to punch the boy.

Control them.

Daniel doesn’t move. Why isn’t he backing away? Retreat or run away, twerp! The brunette holds his piercing gaze, inhaling and exhaling calmly as to show Johnny how to relax. He snarls and yanks his arm back, locking it down by his side. He shakes his head in disgust, pushing past the shorter boy.

“Everyone, fall in line,” he orders without turning his back, his body feeling cold in the summer heat. “Now.”

As the kids shakily gather behind him, Johnny can’t help but feel like something is watching him. He glares into the forest in front of him, barely catching a blur of something dark, before it’s gone. Chalking it up to a wild animal, Johnny peers behind him at the quiet campers before continuing on the trail.

Chapter Text

The rest of the hike is mostly quiet, only broken by a few rogue whispers and the sounds of wildlife around them. Johnny leads them back onto the correct trail, which snakes further up the mountain at a much easier incline. The lurking feeling of eyes following them, hidden in bushes or up in trees, still keep the blonde on his toes, but he only catches small lizards scurrying by their feet or birds soaring in the patches of sky overhead. As they hike further up, the trees huddle together, growing denser around them. The breezes come to life up here and the air gets thinner and cooler. The sweat clinging to everyone’s hair and clothes chill and provide relief to their warm and tired skin.

By the time they arrive at the top of the path and onto the small cliff clearing, Counselor Aaron is already there with his kids. The lifeguard pauses in his spiel about Elsinore Lake, sending a snarky grin in Johnny’s direction. The lanky blonde rolls his eyes and walks over to the overlook edge. Before he reaches the wooden log fence circling the area, he stops and turns around, staring back at his small army of campers. He shoos them away with a flick of his wrist, some of the younger kids tensing for an attack before running off to meet back up with their friends. Aaron’s voice drones on from the other side of the overlook as some of the kids snap polaroids or talk among themselves.

Johnny turns back to the view of the lake and surrounding forest below them, leaning onto the log post as the exhaustion finally catches up to him. He wants nothing more than to lay his head down on his arm, but he can’t. He can’t show weakness. No Mercy…even for him.

He feels someone lean against the fence, the movements thumping through the long weathered log under his arms. He doesn’t need to know who’s brave enough to bother him. It’s Daniel La- Daniel. He frowns and closes his eyes, already saying goodbye to his newly found solitude.

“I gotta ask, man, aren’t you tired of being a bully?” The brunette finally speaks up and turns, fully facing him.

“Oh, that’s rich, coming from you,” he bites back, opening his eyes and staring down at the blue lake below.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Daniel’s tone turns defensive and his voice raises slightly. Johnny pulls away from the view, glowering at the shorter boy.

“You beat me already. I promised not to mess with you anymore,” he recalls bitterly, “So why are you still hanging around bothering me, huh? You’re free to run around and annoy other people now, Newark.” A breeze cuts through Johnny’s hair, lifting the layers of his golden blonde hair and tossing them around his face. Daniel’s dark brown eyes shift up to watch his hair settle before falling back down softly, meeting his eyes with a direct and honest gaze.

“I don’t know, man. Maybe after you stopped kickin’ my ass, I actually wanted ta get to know you. You and I have a lot of similar interests, and I figured maybe we could try startin’ over. Be friends, ya know?” The blonde takes in his earnest face and relaxed stance; the sun starting to fall lower in a tangle of blush and peach colors, reflecting in those warm brown eyes. Johnny chuckles under his breath and shakes his head, turning back to the lake.

“We’re nothing alike, Daniel,” he whispers, staring into the blue waters below. He imagines the fence cracking under his weight, sending his body tumbling off the cliff and straight into those dark and inviting waters.

You could climb over the fence, too. Just climb and jump in.

“I dunno about that,” Daniel thinks, his voice teasing and light, “We like karate and soccer, we both graduated, we dated the same girl-” A muscle in Johnny’s jaw twitches as he raises an eyebrow dangerously towards the other boy, challenging him to continue.

His words withering at Johnny’s expression, Daniel clears his throat and looks up at the yellowing sky. He rubs a hand against the back of his neck, uncomfortably.

“I said ‘dated.’ She kinda dumped me for some UCLA jock during prom,” his face falls a little, the memory still recent and painful. “She also crashed my car, too, if you can believe it.”

Johnny lets out a sharp laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. Daniel looks back at him, a smile coming back to his face as he sees the smile on the blonde’s face. They both lean over the fence in a lighter mood, watching the trees sway below them and the birds glide overhead.

Bang!

A loud sound cuts through the air, echoing through the trees. Birds flee their branches, large clusters of black and brown wings rising into the sky over the trees. Immediately alert, Johnny meets Daniel’s worried and confused glance before looking over towards Aaron, who is also quiet and looking around. The group collectively holds their breath, eyes falling on the two counselors for any sign of danger or hope.

After a moment, Aaron lets out a dramatically loud sigh of relief, laughing and smiling. He shrugs shyly to the kids around him, downplaying his previous worry and fear.

“So, kiddos, sometimes there are sounds in the woods that you’re not used to, that may sound scary, but-”

Bang!

Crash!

Another heavy gunshot rips through the trees, smashing into nearby pine trunks and rocks, just west of their location.

The younger kids whimper and cling to one another, some on the verge of crying, while the older teens hunch down, backing away from the overlook entrance with terrified faces. The geeky kid with the camcorder flips it on, squinting into the wayfinder as he aims the lens towards the trees.

“What the hell?” the lifeguard exclaims, his eyes scanning the treeline at the opening of the clearing. With the afternoon sun now falling towards the west, the trees darkened and blurred, their silhouettes merging with distant trees further into the woods. The antagonizing sunlight was now coming in at an angle, behind the trees, its rays glaring into their eyes as they try to squint and look past the dark shapes.

Johnny keeps his eyes and ears trained on the treeline in front of them, unconsciously reaching out and grabbing Daniel’s sleeve, tugging him away from the log post and towards the other counselor. When the blonde bumps into a smaller girl, he also grabs onto her upper arm and brings her with them.

“We need to get out of here,” he whispers harshly to Aaron, pulling the other guy’s attention to him, “We need to get them back to camp quickly.” The beachy boy toy’s wide eyes fall onto the kids around them, skirting around the overlook to where other clusters of campers stand in fear. “And quietly, if we can manage it.”

The older man nods and slips his whistle into his mouth, blowing a very staccato two-beat whistle. Both counselors wave their arms, coaxing the campers to huddle together on the southern side of the overlook. They do a quick headcount, making sure they have everyone before they start to move towards the path.

Johnny grabs onto Aaron’s arm as he takes the lead, halting the older man’s steps.

“Stay on the path, keep the lake to your left,” the blonde warns, his frown taut with the gravity of survival, “Don’t fuck this up, Lifeguard.”

Aaron yanks his arm out of his grasp, but nods in agreement. He turns back to the campers in their matching soft yellow shirts and blue lanyards.

“Alrighty, kiddos,” he takes the lead, creeping towards the path leading back into the woods, “We’re going to go quickly and in single file, okay? An extra dessert after dinner for the campers that stay quiet.”

The counselor smiles brightly at the kids, holding his finger up to his lips. The smile doesn’t really do much when he looks like he’s also on the verge of screaming, but the kids all take hands and start to follow. Johnny corrals the younger kids into the formation on the path, making sure they all leave the overlook together. He does one more headcount as the kids hurry into the woods before following.

They shuffle down the path quickly, trying to keep their ears and eyes open for any threats. As they reach the previous point of contention in the path, a nearby twig snaps and Johnny whips his head towards the sound.

Bang!

Another gunshot goes off nearby, its impact further behind them, higher up. Johnny covers his ears and ducks his head in defense. As he winces, a flash of memory or something not quite memory cuts through his mind. Something being hunted.

Or someone.

Johnny’s steps falter, a flash of a red and white shirt running away in the denser woods, desperately trying to hide behind a tree before pushing off and running again. He feels his fingers and toes curl, a strange excitement travelling through him as he pictures dark and sharp and slimy shapes reaching out from behind his vision.

Bang! Snap!

Another gunshot and the sound of tree branches breaking pull his eyes back to the golden hour speckling the path in front of him. He shakes his head, trying to clear the image of an orangey shaved head twisting towards him. Screaming in absolute terror.

He breathes heavily, suddenly noticing that Daniel is now standing in front of him, and looking up at him with worry. He sees and hears the group of campers just behind him, rounding a bend in the path. Johnny straightens up, shoving the distant scream and screech to the back of his mind. Daniel doesn’t seem to hear it, so he’ll ignore it for now. The blonde pushes past him, knocking his shoulder hard as he starts to jog after the group.

“Keep moving.”

The two boys quickly join up with the rest of the group, sweat streaming down their faces from exertion. Johnny keeps an eye on the shorter brunette, noticing how his gait is more pronounced on his right side, taking the pressure off of his left knee. He knows that the boy could use a break, hell, they all could. It took them hours to walk up the mountain, and now they’re trying to make it down in minutes.

No Mercy.

No, they can’t stop. If they want to survive, they can’t stop moving. So Johnny pushes a few tired kids forward, forcing them to match the group’s speed, before tugging Daniel in front of him, the occasional nudge to speed him up.

After half an hour or so of hiking down the mountain, the exhaustion keeping everyone quiet and calm, the front campers finally see the green and red roofs of the various cabins below. An excitement thrums through the group, reigniting their energy and strength. Counselor Aaron smiles and raises his hands high up in the air, giving everyone two happy thumbs up.

Before the group actually reaches the paved path, carving through the campsite, an ear-splitting noise stops them.

Boom!

The earth under their feet trembles and the trees threaten to fall over as a loud explosion sounds off in the distance, rumbling and rolling throughout the campsite. Everyone braces for some mystery disaster: covering their ears, ducking their heads, kneeling down in the dirt. Johnny can feel the vibrations tremble through his gritted teeth and he tries to spot the source of the explosion.

In the ringing silence afterwards, the kids stand up, trying to see what happened. A small cloud of light brown smoke rises from the south, just beyond the camp perimeter. Not caring for rules anymore, they all collectively shove past Counselor Aaron, ignoring his cries for calm walking, and run back down the path. Just Johnny, Daniel, and Aaron are left at the top of the hill, now hearing the loud bell outside the main lodge tolling in the evening air.

“This is totally mental, dude,” Aaron mutters, shaking his head as he walks back down slowly. Johnny looks to the other boy, standing like a deer caught in the headlights. He tilts his head as a sign to follow before striding down the paved path.

“Keep up, Daniel.” The blonde doesn’t bother with any nicknames, too exhausted and on edge to torment the other kid. But he does feel the brunette fall in by his side, slightly limping, which he slows down just enough to make it not as noticeable.

As all of the yellow-clad campers filter into the main lodge, whispering and gossiping with terrified and concerned faces, James and Freddie count each of their heads, not speaking with any of the counselors until they’re done. Johnny and Daniel are the last two to enter; Daniel immediately takes a seat with some of his cabin mates while Johnny joins the huddle of counselors against the wall.

The blonde crosses his arms, not really listening to the others whisper and ask questions. He observes all of their tense faces and mentally takes notes on their body movements and expressions in such a bizarre and stressful situation. As his eyes pass over one then another then another, an icy dread settles in the bottom of his stomach.

Someone’s missing.

He glances over all of the counselors again, searching their faces until he realizes that he can’t find Annie Lennox. Taylor, the one sporting the orange shaved head, isn’t there. He remembers the feeling of chasing someone, of a counselor shirt and an orange shaved head.

He swallows nervously, frowning as he pulls away from the group and looks around the lodge. No Annie Lennox. He takes a sharp breath, holding it as his eyes fall on James and Freddy whispering at the door. He can tell that they’re arguing, but James easily overpowers the other with a strict and stern voice. End of discussion.

As James walks over the counselors, Freddy checking in with them before heading towards the office on the other side of the kitchen, the youngest counselor feels his heart racing, his lungs burning for more air.

Someone bumps their elbow into his arm and he looks up, noticing Claire and Manny standing on the other side of the circle behind James. Claire whispers something into Manny’s ear, their eyes lifting up to look straight ahead at Johnny.

“Wait,” someone interrupts the conversation, “where’s Counselor Taylor?”

As the younger boy finally lets out a shaky breath, his eyes watering slightly, their eyes shimmer and shine dangerously into his. They smile at him.

–

For the next agonizingly long hour or so, James quells the counselors’ worries about their missing coworker and asks that they help get the campers lined up for dinner service. The dinner service is not as chaotic as Johnny thought it would be; maybe the campers needed some sort of orders, a punishable distraction if not followed, forcing them to remain calm and almost servient.

The blonde isn’t able to stomach the thought of eating. His skin feels clammy and his fingers tremble as he tries to bring up the strange memory from earlier, desperately trying to replay it for clues to Taylor’s whereabouts. He leans his head into his hands, tugging lightly as his hair. He knows there are eyes on him, he can feel them. On his skin, under his skin, behind his own eyes, in his mind. He feels them everywhere.

A heavy hand falls on his shoulder and he jumps, twisting in his chair to look up at James Kreese. The militant man’s eyes bore into him, immediately pausing and ejecting the memory from his brain like an unwanted VHS tape.

“Looks like the bumpkin authority finally showed up,” he grumbles, straightening up his spine. Johnny turns away, looking towards the front door, where he sees an old white truck and dark red car pull into the parking lot to the side of the lodge. “Let’s go greet them.”

James doesn’t remove his hand until Johnny stands up, walking before the larger man. He pushes open one of the heavy glass-paned doors, holding it open for the older man behind him. James walks down the wooden and stone steps towards the two men, his feet crunching in the gravel. Johnny follows and stands next to him, his hands nervously twitching as he spots the holstered guns on their hips as they slowly get out of their vehicles. He glances over at James, mirroring his stance and crossing his arms across his chest. At least they can’t see my hands if I hide them…

The Sheriff steps up first, dark-haired and stocky, followed by the taller, lanky blonde. As the four stand facing each other, Johnny can’t help but laugh internally at how absurd this is. Almost like looking in a mirror.

“Hey, Kreese,” the Sheriff lifts his chin in acknowledgement at the taller man, “Looks like a helluva way to start off camp, huh?” His eyes barely glance over Johnny before he scouts the area for something more interesting. James grunts.

“What can you tell us?” he asks frankly, not here for anyone’s bullshit. Especially the local authorities’. Sheriff Donovan clicks his tongue and looks over the other man, a scowl hidden in those crow feet under his eyes. His eyes glide over to Johnny, narrowing in mistrust.

“Maybe we should talk in private?”

“Here’s fine,” James drops that heavy hand on his shoulder again, pinning him down before he can back away from the conversation, “The kid is here to help me.” Johnny looks between the two men, feeling strangely like bait hung on a hook. Right in between two sharks.

“Alright,” the Sheriff concedes, hooking his thumbs through his belt loops. “There’s been a landslide of some sort. Maybe from that old mine up the way. It’s completely wrecked the road heading up the mountain.” GI James nods, looking away in thought.

“And that’s the only road down, right?” he ponders, tapping his large fingers against Johnny’s bony clavicle uncomfortably.

“Yessir,” the Deputy pipes up with a snarky tone, taking a cocky step forward and crossing his arms to mimic the other blonde. “We’ve got Bea back at the station with the radio, tryin’ to contact someone in the Transportation depo.”

“And?”

“W-well,” the older blonde stutters, now frowning as he feels the full force of James Kreese’s glare on him. “It’s a Saturday, chief. There’s probably no one in the office answerin’ calls.”

As the deputy speaks, Johnny notices that James has turned his attention back to the Sheriff. Oddly, he’s not glaring or scowling. But there’s something about his gaze that screams hunger. The blonde blinks as his eyes water, his vision blooming red with a flash of blood splatter. The older men all look at each other for a moment, a tense and violent silence, before James breaks it.

“I’ll tell the camp,” he steers Johnny towards the door with his hand still on his shoulder. “Everyone needs to know.”

The blonde holds the door open for James, but accidentally lets it slip out of his hand as the officers walk through. The Deputy catches the door with the side of his hand, smirking at the younger blonde as he walks past. The Sheriff follows, sternly watching Johnny before he slides a comforting smile onto his face.

A sharp whistle cuts through the din of chatter and all eyes fall onto James at the front of the room.

“Alright, listen up, everyone,” the large man’s voice carries easily throughout, “There’s been an accidental landslide outside of the camp. It fell over the road, so we currently have no way in or out of the mountain top right now.” Immediately, campers and counselors alike, and some of the kitchen staff listening in, start to protest and raise their voices.

“Don’t worry,” James holds up his hands in a placating manner, “We’re already in the process of reaching out to a team to come out and clear it away. It should only take a few days once they’re dispatched, so it’ll be gone before camp is even over.”

“Do our parents know?” a teen questions, worriedly.

“I wanna go home,” another younger kid blurts out, sniffling through tears.

“No one can leave or come pick you up because of the road being closed,” their leader explains, surprisingly softly. “But Counselor Freddy has already called all of your parents during dinner and told them what happened. They trust us to keep you safe and happy here, and that’s what we’re going to do.” James gestures to the smaller person in the back, wringing their bucket hat in their hands. Freddy shoots a hand up, anxiously waving and smiling to all of the eyes now falling on them.

“What about the gunshots?” an older teen asks, followed by whispers of shock and excitement among the tables.

“Gunshots?” James asks, tilting his head slightly, glancing at Johnny out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, someone was totally shooting at us while we were hiking.”

“Excuse me,” the shorter man steps further into the room next to James, smiling at all of the campers. “Hello, everyone. My name's Sheriff Tim Donovan and this here’s my Deputy, Ben Stoker.” He gestures to the cool blonde leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

“I’m the chief law enforcement officer for the Elsinore Lake area, and it’s my privilege to welcome you to our wonderful mountain neighborhood.” Everyone just blinks back at him, deadpanned. Johnny covers his mouth with a fist, stifling a smirk threatening to break.

“Now, we have some funny people in our neighborhood, and sometimes there are accidents in these woods,” his voice, calm and comforting. “There’s a sweet, old hermit that lives further up the mountain, and he loves to hunt sometimes.

“He is well aware of the campgrounds’ boundaries, but he may have been hunting a little too close to camp and the noise just seemed louder and closer.

“But I can assure you, I- and the Deputy- will speak with him tomorrow and make sure he doesn’t shoot anywhere you kids may be hiking, okay?”

Hushed voices erupt in waves among the tables before a counselor leaning against the wall steps forward. Johnny wracks his brain for a name. Stevey. The counselor in charge of AV activities, assigned to cabin 3 with Taylor.

“What about Counselor Taylor? Has anyone found them yet? Is anyone searching?”

“Counselor Taylor?” A muscle in the Sheriff’s jaw throbs as he turns to James for an answer. James looks at the shorter man briefly before replying to the counselor.

“Yes, Counselor Taylor did not check in after the bell and is currently MIA. We can assure you that the Sheriff,” he shoots a steely glance towards the officer, “and his Deputy will be searching these woods extensively for our missing counselor. So please do not bother them if you spot them on the grounds. As for cabin 3, Stevey will be your new cabin head, so do what he says.”

Johnny watches Stevey bite his lip, wanting to ask more, but he quietly steps back along the wall and stands there in thought. As James instructs all counselors to escort their campers back to the cabins, Johnny’s eyes fall on his kids and a certain doe-eyed brunette just itching to ask questions. He sighs and lets his head fall onto his chest.

Here we go…

Chapter Text

            “Are we gonna be able to go home?”
            “Are we gonna die?”
“Are the policemen gonna arrest that guy?”
            “Is the mountain going to cave in?”
                       “Can’t they just get a helicopter and fly us out of here?”
            “Where do you think Counselor Taylor went?”
            “What was that guy hunting?”
“Was it a mountain lion?”
            “Was it a bear?”
                       “Was it Bigfoot?”
                                  “Was it Counselor Taylor?”
            “Is that guy gonna hunt us?”

Johnny rubs his temples, a discordant migraine thrumming behind one of his eyes, branching off to throb in another part of his skull. He keeps trying to replay the haunting images of Taylor in the woods, but trembling in his fingers keeps distracting him.

The questions continue all the way up the hill, past the towering silhouette of Timber-Toes and past the reach of cabin 5B’s darkness. As Johnny leads the campers into the cabin, the kids follow, their dirt and sweat stained tank tops and leaf-packed shoes crowd Johnny’s bunk. His space.

With a scowl, the blonde turns around and yells, “Quiet!”

Silence.

Control.

His bloodshot eyes fall onto all of the kids hovering in the corner of the room, standing still with bated and uncertain breath. He takes a step closer to the tall wavy-haired teen, the boy’s stunned face slowly showing signs of fear. Defeat.

“Alright, alright, let’s all try to calm down and uh, get ready for bed,” Daniel pushes his way towards his own bunk, trying to coax them away from the taller boy. “You heard the adults; we’re safe here so let’s just get some sleep, okay? It’s been a long day.”

Johnny sighs and falls back onto his bunk, covering his face with an arm. He knows he should get up and shower, but he’s not sure he can get back up. His arms and legs feel like they’re sinking into his sleeping bag, becoming one with the fabric and the mattress below.

He hears the bed next to his squeak and groan, knowing the brunette is probably feeling the same way.

“Babysitting,” he blurts out, not bothering to move his arm or sit up. The bed squeaks again.

“What?” the confused boy asks, angling his head to look at the blonde in the corner.

“You said you were going to look for a summer job,” Johnny exhales, finally sliding his arm off of his face but keeping his tired eyes closed. “You’re good with kids, so… try babysitting.”

Daniel shifts, humming under his breath. Johnny finally cracks one eye open, letting it fall on the other boy, curiously. The brunette bites his thumbnail in thought, his other hand unconsciously rubbing the muscles and tendons of his left knee.

“Ya know, I never thought of it, but I totally could’ve been chargin’ my Uncle Louie all those summers I was watchin’ Junior and my cousin Vanessa…” he ponders with a serious look, “You think I can get a rain check on those paychecks?” His brown eyes turn towards Johnny and he smiles slyly. The blonde raises an eyebrow, not sure if anyone the boy just rattled off would ever give him a dime, by the sounds of it. He simply shrugs.

“‘Strike first.’”

He watches the brunette’s smile falter, his dark eyes lower to his knee.

“I- I don’t-” he starts to say, fumbling for words.

“Even in life, you have to strike first,” the blonde lets his eyes drift up towards the bunk above him, “Man up, take the leap, whatever it takes to be first.”

His stare softens around the edges, the wood blurring as he pictures a strange pair of silver eyes looking back at him. The words were repeated to him time and time again, until the words lost structure, lost meaning on his tongue. They unraveled in his brain, sinking into his DNA like one of those plastic models in his biology class. Unzipping and attaching themselves in his very core. But now, the words seem to come from a much darker place within him, yanking and pulling his nerves like a marionette.

“Do you think there’s ever a time when you shouldn’t be first?” Daniel’s voice sounds farther away, the darkness of his thoughts stretching and reaching out for him.

I wasn’t first at the tournament. I wasn’t first in my class. I wasn’t Mom’s first concern. I wasn’t on the beach with Ali first.

“On the beach… I didn’t strike first.”

“What?” the brunette shifts, sitting up against his pillow. The blonde swallows, hating the smile threatening to crack along his face as he remembers that night.

“I was so annoyed at Ali. She just kept turning on that damn radio every time I tried to talk to her. I just wanted to check in on her, and make sure she was okay, ya know?” Johnny clenches his fists and rests them on his chest, anxiously bumping his knuckles together, as he continues looking at the bunk above. He can’t meet the other boy’s eyes, not right now. Not when he’s like this. If only Bobby was here to take his mind off of the darker thoughts…

“After you fell, you got up and… you were so mad, ya know? You ran at me and tried to swing, but I just moved out of the way and let you trip over my leg-”

“‘Let me,’ huh?” the brunette interrupts, muttering half-heartedly under his breath.

“-And again, you ran at me and swung. It was cute, in a way,” the blonde’s heart flutters as he blinks back to that night, “Over and over, you tried the same attack, but you never learned how to actually offensively attack me. It wasn’t until I got too close that you popped me in the nose with that quick jab, that you actually got me. I may have kicked your ass that night, but you technically tried to strike first.”

“Oh, so you’re blamin’ the fight on me, huh?” Daniel swings his legs over the side of the bunk, sitting over Johnny. The blonde finally looks over, seeing the shorter boy leaning close with a hurt expression on his face. Johnny frowns.

“I’m saying you struck first…kinda,” he shifts his elbows under him, rising off the bed slightly to move closer, “Maybe you’re actually right, Jersey boy. Maybe we are alike. Whether you like it or not.” Johnny holds his gaze, watching as the brunette licks his bottom lip in worry or stress or whatever is going on in his head. The shorter boy takes in a breath, holding it with a frown as he takes in the blonde’s messy hair falling along his face, his tired and bloodshot blue eyes, and his soft, angular jaw, just above a hidden swatch of colors mottling his skin.

Daniel shakes his head in disbelief, before standing up and walking away. Johnny watches him cross the room and head towards the bathroom. He lets out a heavy exhale, the darkness in him deflating his body back into the mattress.

That could have gone better.
Why didn’t it?
Because Lawrqetsuo doesn’t want to listen.
Then make him listen. Control him.

Johnny rubs his face, grinding the heel of his palm against his eyes. He throws his feet back onto the floor, curling into a sitting position on the edge of his bunk. He looks around the cabin, seeing some of the campers hanging from their bunks, talking animatedly with each other. Some of the campers play a card game at the table, trying to focus on something instead of their internal fears and worries. And some are hanging around the large mirror and sink by the bathroom, brushing their teeth and hair, tiredly joking with each other as they get ready for bed. His eyes scout the room, but he still doesn’t see the brat from Reseda, probably still in the showers.

With a groan, he pulls himself to his feet, shuffling towards the back door of the cabin. Some of the younger kids chatting by the door stop and look up at him, waiting to be yelled at or told what to do. He shakes his head, “I’m stepping out for fresh air. I’m right outside so don’t try anything stupid.” He unlocks the back door and shoves it open with the side of his forearm, immediately feeling the moths and other nocturnal bugs try to get closer to the light within. He closes the door behind him, leaving it slightly ajar with a sliver of light, pale against the wild darkness on this side of the door.

He pushes away from the door, stepping closer to the plastic table and chairs huddled together in the dark behind the cabin. He leans on the table, feeling its weather-worn plastic chafe lightly against his palms. The cool night air envelops him and he feels like he can finally breathe. Away from people, away from Daniel, away from danger.

The darkness worms its way between his legs, around his stomach and arms, prancing over his splayed fingers against the cool table. He hears the far off flutter of bats dancing across the sky, the screeching and hooting of owls keeping an eye out for careless traveling rodents, and the hum and snapping of cicadas and crickets as they sing to each other. He hears and feels the hollow winds blowing through the forest, skimming the lake and valley before gliding back up the mountainside to brush against the cabins and structures.

Closing his eyes, he allows the dark of the night to wrap itself around him, tighter and tighter, a freeing sort of suffocation that can only come with the absence of light and sight. He breathes in the cool, dark air, letting it fill his aching lungs.

As he exhales, he hears a nearby twig snap, followed by the snag of fabric against nettle. His eyes open quickly, peering into the trees beyond the cabin light’s embrace.

He sees something move, its stride confident and familiar. It stops, crouching behind a tree, before resuming its stroll. As its small beam of light skates across the ground, another is spotted. This time, its light blonde hair is a dead giveaway.

He watches quietly as the Sheriff and Deputy comb the hill above the cabin, stopping frequently and shining their lights around like fireflies trapped in a glass jar.

After ten minutes or so, the Deputy whistles a thin and reedy call to the shorter man, their forms bleeding into the underbrush just out of view. A few minutes later, they emerge, their forms picking up the barest of light and color on the hill. The Deputy seems to be carrying something, fumbling with it as he bags it. As they start to head back down the hill, coming closer to the cabin’s light, Johnny can spot a dirty and bloodied sneaker in his hands, with a bagged scrap of torn red and white fabric.

He stands there silently, watching from the safety of the dark patio behind the cabin. They whisper to each other, or maybe they’re speaking normally, but the sound doesn’t travel. They hop from tree to tree as they walk, bleeding into the shadow of thick trunks and branches, before they stop midstep. The wind howls in glee as the boy holds his breath, watching the older men just standing there on the hill.

Suddenly, they both turn towards him, as if they can see him in the dark. They can’t see me…can they? The blonde straightens up, his body screaming to run back inside the cabin. One of their flashlights flickers over the path, but they don’t break eye contact. Unblinking. The Sheriff nods his head towards Johnny and smiles. They continue down the hill.

Johnny leans against the table again, the dark of the night now tainted and corrupted around him. He inhales, trying to calm his racing heart. A catlike scream echoes far away, followed by the cracking of weak branches overhead. The grass rustles nearby and his hands start to shake against the plastic. The breeze cutting through the campground chills and falls as it spins around him, making his teeth chatter and his shoulders tremble.

Strike first. Strike hard. No mercy.

He squeezes his eyes tight, whispering the Cobra’s motto against his weak and shaky breath. He balls his right hand into a fist, lightly pressing his knuckles into the plastic.

Strike first. Strike hard. No mercy.
Strike first. Strike hard. No mercy.
Strike first. Strike hard…
No mercy.

He pulls his fist away soundlessly before throwing it forward, jabbing it down into the plastic tabletop. The worn green plastic cracks under his knuckles, a thin and crooked splinter stretching out under his hand.

No mercy.

Chapter Text

Morning comes in a quiet veil of pallid light seeping through the windows. Already, its reach is warm and dry, clearing away the chilly cobwebs of sleep from the blonde sleeping on his stomach, his head turned towards the light. He winces softly, rolling onto his back as he lets his consciousness bob up towards the surface. Johnny stretches his arms over his head, yawning. He grimaces, catching a whiff of old sweat and dirt, realizing that he slept in his clothes from yesterday’s hike. He sits up and looks around the cabin, everyone still sleeping and probably worn out from the excitement of yesterday’s events.

He glances at the brunette sleeping next to him, seeing the kid lightly drool onto his pillow as he holds it to his chest. A tuft of dark hair hangs loosely over his eyes and Johnny grinds his teeth, stopping himself from reaching over and pushing the hair back behind the boy’s ear. Daniel usually keeps his hair brushed out of his face, so it feels unnatural to see him so carefree and relaxed. But something about seeing this side of the boy makes Johnny smile. Maybe there are sides of Daniel I haven’t seen yet…

He yawns again, reaching under his bunk for his duffel bag. He grabs his old band shirt and another pair of shorts and underwear, quietly making his way through the cabin and slipping into the showers before the kids are fully awake. The water takes a moment to gain pressure and heat, but he doesn’t mind the cold running through his hair in rivulets. It wakes him up more, shocking him back into his body and the summery prison he’s stuck in.

Even though the camp just started and lasts only two weeks, hearing about the landslide makes every minute feel like an hour sometimes. And every hour, another day. And so on. And even though there’s nothing Johnny can do to help the road clearing or to speed up the camp activities, something gnaws at his bones, anxious to be set free. He can feel it whispering, begging for more.

More of what? He has no idea.

Freedom?

Yes, and more.

With a shaky hand, he spins the squeaky faucet off, grabbing a towel from the cabinet and drying off. He hides his face in the towel, trying to find comfort in the soft but scratchy fabric. He pulls it away, before drying his hair and tossing it into the laundry bin. As he reaches for his clothes, something strikes him as odd.

He pulls his hand away from the pile, flipping it over and back. The soft flesh under his nails look darker, and discolored. Used to the peachy tone of his skin, this looks different, a dark blue…or maybe dark green tone, he isn’t really sure, hides under his nails. Now that he’s looking closer, his nails do seem a bit too long now. Maybe the soap stained my fingers? And when was the last time I trimmed my nails?

He shakes off the strange feeling of wrongness, chuckling to himself for worrying about his nails like some girl. He reaches out for his clothes again, annoyed that his hands still seem to tremble. He huffs, and squashes that thought down, too. I just need coffee. That’s it.

Johnny heads out into the main cabin, blowing a loud, annoying tune into his whistle. Again, the cabin fills with groans and gasps as the campers wake with a jolt, before taking in their awake and freshly-clean counselor. He sits at the table, giving them twenty or so minutes to actually wake up and get ready for the day.

He grabs a stack of cards left on the table and flips through them, running through some of the easier sleight-of-hand exercises he learned during magic lessons years ago. He lets the cards pass over his fingers deftly, never stopping. If he stops, he’ll notice the color of his fingers again. He’ll notice his nails again. Even in the bright sunlight, they’re still off.

The cards flip faster and faster in his hands as his heart starts to race.

Before he can mess up the rhythm and spill all of them across the table, the heavy bell sounds throughout the camp, halting his fingers. All of the campers gather in the main area of the cabin, excited for food and the day’s activities.

As Johnny leads them down the hill to the main lodge, he overhears the unfortunate girl with the bowl-cut hair talking with the taller redheaded girl with the lopsided ponytail.

“Last night, I heard a noise,” the brunette says in a not-so-quiet whisper, “I cracked open the back door and found this weird garden gnome, like the one my mom has…well, she’s got like twenty of them, but yeah-”

“Wait, you went outside? At night?” the redhead interrupts with a dramatically shocked face, immediately putting her hands on her hips. Johnny glares at the girl, annoyed that he’s already losing control of the kids under his watch.

“Well, I just went right outside the door,” the other girl answers shyly, “Not too far, just by the old table out there.”

“Yeah, but it’s probably not safe out there,” the redhead swings her side ponytail back with her hand and continues walking. “We still don’t know what happened to that counselor…”

“Are you going to let me finish my story?” the brunette pouts, pushing her thick glasses higher up her nose.

“Fine, go on…spaz.”

“Ugh, you’re the worst,” the brunette huffs before moving on, “Anyway, so I found this gnome statue thingy but when I went to pick it up, it moved!”

“What? Like it was on wheels or something?” the redhead pursed her lips, her face showing nothing but smug disbelief.

“No, not like an RC car,” the other girl waved the thought away with her hands. “It just moved. Like, it was walking away.” Her friend stares at her for a moment, eyes narrowing.

“Uh huh…and you’re sure you weren’t sleepwalking or dreaming this?”

“No! It just walked off into the woods somewhere.”

“That’s weird…” the redhead says slowly, still disbelieving her friend’s story.

“Right? I def can’t prove it, but I know what I saw. I wonder if it was trying to get into the cabin?” the brunette asks, putting her hand to her chin in thought. Johnny’s steps falter slightly, as he rolls his eyes and laughs under his breath. Inside the cabin? Yeah right…

“Why do you say that?” Ms. Bowl Cut thinks for a second, trying to piece something together in her mind.

“Well, it had like, some wood chips under it, and when I looked at the wall, under the window, there were scratch marks. Little ones, but wide and squarish. They went through the paint and into the wood.”

“Are you sure someone isn’t just trying to play a prank on us?” the redhead pulls a bright purple scrunchie off of her wrist and wraps it around the corner of her shirt, nervously pulling her shirt tighter around her waist. “Like another cabin?”

“Maybe, but I don’t know who would do something like this?”

–

It’s a pretty boring breakfast at the Counselors’ table, Manny and Claire absent and apparently helping James with an early morning task. Johnny questions this for a moment, curious as to why the older man didn’t ask for his help instead. It’s not like he wants or is looking for extra attention, especially from a Kreese, but he thought he was supposed to be “an extension” of the leader. Is James regretting that now? Is he expecting Johnny to prove himself worthy of being a leader here?
Ignoring Stevey’s nerdy ramblings about digital and analog capture and some high-tech camera gear he’s excited to try out, the blonde gets up from the table, leaving his practically full plate of food, and walks over to the corkboard covered in various colored sheets of paper. He picks out the schedule easily and scans through the various assignments for the different cabins:

Capture-the-flag,
Archery,
Canoeing,
Friendship bracelet-making,
Fire & knife safety,
And Karate.

His throat tightens and his mouth grows dry. He swallows, taking a breath to steady himself. He can do this. He can prove himself to Kreese at karate class. He squares his shoulders, sliding into the badass caricature of a leader. As he pulls away from the board, something catches his eye. His gaze falls on the schedule again, noticing the date.
Huh.

–

Johnny stands under a wide oak tree, scoffing and laughing and wincing as his campers line up three at a time to shoot arrows at the large hay targets in the back of the archery area. Sara, an older brunette with arms to match his own, attempts to rally their spirits, as she corrects various issues and problems with their stances and arm placement. He chuckles as a younger kid accidentally pulls the string back too far and slaps his own ear as he lets go. Another kid sneezes and almost shoots the boombox Sara has perched by the storage shack, which sends Johnny doubling over in laughter.

He looks up to see Daniel glaring at him, probably thinking I’m being a bully for laughing at these losers… He smirks and thinks of some witty insult to yell out before the brunette lets his arrow fly, when a sharp blur cuts through his vision, landing right beside his feet. He whips his head up with an incredulous glare, now seeing the nerdy camera kid climbing back up to his feet. Sara rushes over and checks in with him, placing her hand over her face, trying not to laugh. She takes the bow from him and coaxes him to go stand under the shade with Johnny. Even though the arrow snapped backwards when he fell and almost hit Johnny, the target was ultimately missed, and the blonde shakes his head, a crooked smile on his face.

“Sorry about that, Counselor,” the dark-haired kid says dejectedly, a slight lisp as the air squeezes through a gap between his front teeth. He sits down on a boulder near the blonde and bends over to tie his right shoe. The apparent culprit to the misfire.

“Just make sure your damn shoes are tied before you handle weapons,” he scolds the boy, no real anger in his voice. Be a leader. You’re a leader. No mercy.

The kid still winces and looks up at the older boy sheepishly. Something catches his eyes, however, and he sits up straighter, trying to get a better view. He sways his body towards the left then the right, squinting into the woods.

“Uh, sure thing, Counselor, sir-” the boy stands up and takes hold of the bulky camcorder hanging around his neck. He switches it on before remembering that he was in the middle of saying something. “Uh, I’ll be right back! Not going far, promise!”

The scrawny kid bolts from the shaded area, heading past the fire pit and further into the sparse woods to the west of them.

Shit. “Ah- Eric or Greg or whatever your name is- get back here!”

Johnny jogs after the nerd, not worrying about the other campers left behind with Sara. Even with a camera and clearly not an athlete, the kid is quick. The blonde loses him briefly in a cluster of pale trees and dense brush, but he spots the bright yellow camp shirt running towards the treeline further west. He grunts, pushing his legs faster to catch up with the wayward kid.

As he breaks through the treeline of thick and dark pines, his head swivels around, scanning the tangle of brush and rippling ground for any sign of yellow, movement, or a body.

Something flutters to his right, slightly uphill from his position. He watches, trying to hold his breath to calm the pounding drum of his heartbeat in his ears. He watches, his body tense and alert. Quiet. Coiled. Ready to strike.

Wait, what?

Quiet. Hunt.

Yeah. Wait, no. I mean, look for the kid.

A rustle sounds from the area he’s staring at, pushing his body into action. As he hears it again, he realizes that the sound isn’t something he’d hear from movement, rather, a frenzy of tone and sound. A chunk of meat thrown onto a scalding hot pan, sizzling as the fat bubbles and blisters. A tv knob sitting in between two active stations, the white-noise static crackling and fizzing in a dark sleepy room at 3am.

As he leaps onto a higher ridge, he circles a wide oak tree and spots a figure running between the thinner trees. Stout but long, lanky but hearty, the figure runs in a frenzy of long, tangled and matted gray hair, spouting from the top of his head and from a bony and hard chin. His stained and torn patchwork of a brown duster floats after him, swirling around his skinny legs as he halts and spins around quickly. Johnny watches as he skims the trees with his beady, pale eyes, growling in irritation as something or someone eludes him.

The blonde hugs the tree next to him for cover, keeping his eyes focused on the old man in front of him. Said old man then waves his short stick-like cane in the air, like tracing a shape or a pattern in the air. Johnny frowns, not sure how to continue looking for the boy with this crazy hermit in his way.

“Johnny!” A whisper cuts through the quiet of the woods and the blonde yanks his eyes from the man, looking backwards as the Jersey pain-in-his ass clambers up the ridge and rushes over to him. The taller boy glowers, tugging the shorter boy towards the tree’s base before returning his gaze back to the man.

“Johnny, what’s going on?” Daniel whispers, leaning against the tree next to him, trying to catch his breath.

As the blonde’s eyes find the exact spot on the forest floor, no man stands there. He quickly looks around, pushing off from the tree as he moves cautiously forward into the clearing. He spins in place, seeing nothing but trees, brush, Daniel, and bright blue sky peeking through the leaves and needles over them.

Suddenly, a bright yellow shirt appears from behind a nearby tree, a shocked and awed face revealing itself behind the plastic camcorder. The nerd hurries over to the spot where the old man stood, still recording.

“Did you guys see that?!”

A switch of relief is flipped, the stress in Johnny’s mind lowering as his nuclear core cools and radiates icy radioactive waves through his nervous system. He feels the metal structure of responsibility quickly cooling and warping, cracking and crumbling in his toes and fingers. His fingers tremble, still.

Before he can run over and strangle the kid for running off, he feels a grounding hand wrap around his arm, holding onto him with a slight pressure. Expecting Kreese or Sid or James, the blonde blinks back at Daniel, having forgotten he was there. His cold blue eyes fall on the tan-skinned hand on his arm, soft but calloused.

“...Guys? Counselor?” the boy pipes up, slowly making his way towards them, “Did you see that guy teleport?”

“Don’t hurt him, Joh-” the brunette whispers softly, his eyes never leaving the blonde’s face.

Johnny finally looks up from the hand, capturing the shorter boy’s gaze. “I said there were rules, La- ugh!” He winces, a sharp pain jabbing into the base of his neck. He tears his arm out of the hold, reaching back and gripping his neck tightly. The stinging pain simmers, but a heaviness falls against his skull, a suffocating pressure hanging onto his head, numbing his tongue and teeth.

“Johnny, are you okay?” The hand returns, pressing on his shoulder, trying to get his attention. But it’s not Daniel’s attention he wants.

“Like, I said, Daniel-” the blonde pushes the other boy off of him, rubbing his neck with a grimace before facing the nerdy kid now in front of them, “There are rules and everyone has to follow them.”

Chapter Text

“Timmy, here-”

“It’s Craig-”

“Timmy, here,” the blonde shuts up the younger boy with a look, “-wasn’t getting a good grasp of archery before. But lucky for him, he’s a good runner.” The nerdy boy shifts under the scrutiny, not wanting to meet anyone’s eyes as he stands alone in the fenced range. Johnny straddles the log fence, gesturing to the small boy, raising his voice to talk to all of the campers circled around him.

“So, for the remainder of the lesson, Timmy’s going to be your arrow runner. He’ll make sure none of you run out of arrows. And if he gets in the way of your target…” he slides his eyes over to Daniel, grinning mischievously, “Well, let’s hope he runs out of the way. Got it?”

He swings his leg over the fence and hops down, allowing a bemused Sara to continue her lesson with the new help. He saunters over to the shaded tree and stands next to Daniel, holding onto the kid’s camcorder. The sound of arrows flying (or not flying) reach them, followed by the shuffling of running feet and yelps of close calls.

“See? I’m not hurting anyone,” the taller boy smiles at his ingenuity. The shorter boy rolls his eyes and crosses his arms.

“And what if he gets shot with an arrow? Or loses an eye?” Daniel huffs, wincing as an arrow bounces off the target near the kid’s elbow.

“Hey, Sara wouldn’t have agreed to this if she thought it was dangerous. And she’s the “survival” expert here,” the blonde turns the camera in his hands, needing something to distract him from the occasional tremor. He pauses, looking down at the buttons on the side.

“What do you think the kid actually saw?” Without waiting for the Jersey boy to answer him, he flips open the screen on the side and turns on the camera. Finding the rewind button, he holds it down for a bit.

“I dunno, an old geezer runnin’ away? Trippin’ and fallin’ down a hill?” the brunette guesses half-heartedly, “Maybe there was no old man, maybe it was a deer or somethin-” The blonde shakes his head, letting go of the button.

“There was an old man, alright. I remember seeing him when I first got here. Crazy old guy…” Johnny finds the play button and presses it; the small blue screen blinking for a second before the footage starts.

The camera zooms in on two unfamiliar boys standing behind the main lodge, probably from another cabin. As the camera centers on them, their voices are picked up.

“Yo, where’d you swipe the keys?”

“Quiet, man. Snagged them when the Sheriff joined our fire bullshit class earlier. They were just hanging off the back of his belt.”

“That’s wicked, yo. Think we can take his truck for a ride?”

“Nah, too risky. But maybe there’s something inside we can grab?”

“Do you think he has weed?”

The footage cuts as the boys start to laugh, cutting to the forest northwest of camp. The footage is shaky and grainy; the running motion really not helping Johnny’s stomach. Daniel reaches over and angles the camcorder so he can watch, as well, ignoring the blonde’s wry chuckle.

The movement stops and the camera passes by a tree slowly, staying close to the ground. When a brown shambling form hobbles out from between two trees, the camera zooms in, taking a moment to recenter on its subject.

The old man in the footage waves his cane in a strange fashion, like Johnny saw him do earlier, but this time, his eyes shift black and a brilliantly electric blue light rips across the trees behind him, sucking him into the tear before collapsing. The camera shakily zooms out a little, looking for the old man or the source of the light. It rises from the ground, moving towards the space before another sizzling tear sounds offscreen. The camera swings around, barely catching the blue light disappearing again. This time, the screen centers on a much younger man standing confused in the middle of the clearing. A twig snaps and the camera jolts, before capturing the man again. The camera tries to zoom in, passing over the man’s wide-collared button up shirt and wide-legged orange pants. As it centers on the man’s face, his bushy mustache neatly groomed and long light brown hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, the man whispers something under his breath. He waves his hand in front of him, his eyes shifting black, before the screen fills with a bright blue light again. The camera falls on trees again, searching the forest for both men and the blue light. Another ripping sound and the camera takes off through the woods again, eventually falling on footage of Johnny and Daniel behind a tree, looking off towards another clearing.

The footage stops in the empty clearing and the screen blinks back to the blue menu screen. Johnny and Daniel both hold onto the camcorder, silent and confused. Eventually the brunette lets go and Johnny closes the screen and switches it off.

“That had to be fake, right?” The shorter boy looks towards the archers before he turns to the blonde with a scrutinizing frown. “Are you tryin’ to prank me? Is this a prank?”

Johnny frowns back, a headache starting to form in the back of his head.

“If this was a prank, Newark, don’t you think I’d be laughing by now?” He looks down at the camcorder, his discolored fingers twitching against the smooth plastic.

–

Lunch comes and goes, which the smell of fish makes Johnny nauseous enough to pass on eating anything substantial.

After that was friendship bracelet-making, in which Johnny finds a soft patch of grass to lay in, while the kids did whatever Britney, the bubbly, always-paint-covered “artsy” counselor, told them to do.

And finally, karate. Any other day, Johnny would have jumped for the chance to fight in front of the class, showing off more advanced techniques that their sensei only taught him. But as he leads his cabin to the mats, a dread pools in his gut. He still hadn’t seen Manny or Claire the rest of the day, and hadn’t really seen James Kreese around either. I need to prove myself. No mercy. I’m a leader.

No mercy.

The militant man is already waiting for them, standing at ease by the wooden railing around the mats. He tells everyone to start stretching, stopping the blonde before he can climb over. Daniel ducks under the railing and halts, looking back at the older man pushing the lanky boy off to the side. Johnny glances back, meeting his eyes with a hard stare.

Do what he says.

James stands still for a moment, looking down at the boy. Johnny stands at attention, waiting for orders.

“I know you’re going soft on the kids,” he finally breaks the tense silence, lifting his imposing chin slightly. “You were given an order, and so far, I have yet to see the authority I imposed on you being used properly.” Johnny swallows his own disappointment down, twisting his fingers around the side hem of his shorts.

“I’m sorry, sen- sir,” he stumbles, trying to figure out who could have told James about Timmy, “It won’t happen again.”

The larger man leans in, his face cold and still like rock.

“I will not allow weakness to run through my camp. Especially those who I personally enlist to help me run it.” The threat is clear. Johnny shivers as a drop of sweat falls from his hair and drips between his shoulder blades, traveling along his spine.

“Understood, sir.” The larger man leans back, staring down at the smaller boy before nodding towards the class.

“On the mat. You’ll be demonstrating today.”

With a quick nod, Johnny hurries towards the mats, hopping over the railing and standing in the center of the circle of campers. He can feel the brunette’s eyes on him; hell, everyone’s eyes are on him. But I just need to prove myself to James. I just need James to see I can follow orders.

James hops over the railing and joins the blonde on the mat, addressing everyone with a small and comforting, but well-practiced smile. He asks who has karate experience and who doesn’t, which was pretty much a resounding ‘no’ except for Johnny and Daniel. Johnny watches as the older man’s eyes size up the brunette, before he calls him to the center of the mat, as well. The blonde sighs, his eyes dropping briefly to the mat. Of course.

They start by demonstrating some basic breathing, followed by easy beginner moves. James walks around the circle and helps those who are struggling with certain combinations, coaching them on their breath and footwork.

Johnny’s skin feels feverish as he feels like a glorified mannequin, repeating the moves whenever James tells him to. The shorter boy bumps into him a couple of times, which Johnny bristles at both the contact and the embarrassment of having to stare centerstage with the twerp. Maybe if he could actually fight someone, maybe he wouldn’t feel so…

“Okay, since we’re nearing the end of the class,” James claps his hands and draws everyone’s attention to the center, “Let’s have Counselor Johnny and Daniel show us how to properly use these moves and techniques in combat.” His steely eyes fall on both boys, and immediately the blonde straightens up and bows to him. He sees the shorter boy out of the corner of his eye, standing confused for a beat, before bowing slightly.

They take their places across from each other as the other campers sit on the ground, staring in excited awe. Johnny inhales a deep breath, trying to calm his stuttering heart. He bows before Daniel, meeting his brown eyes as the boy also bows.

“Fight!”

Even with his knee in a brace, Daniel still keeps Johnny on his toes. Johnny knows Daniel will only defend and retroactively attack, and Daniel knows that he’ll only attack offensively and proactively. They occasionally try to copy each other’s moves, hoping to trip the other up with an early defensive kick or a later blitz attack, but the score stays tied and steady. Block after block, punch after punch, kick after kick.

Going into the third round, Johnny’s vision blurs and his headache from before returns with a deep throb. He glances past his fists towards the brunette, noticing how gingerly Daniel is putting pressure on his left leg.

‘Sweep the leg.’

Johnny blinks away the memory of Kreese’s words, blinks away the feeling of his elbow sinking into the boy’s knee. This is their fight, not his. He bounces on his feet, dancing around the defensive boy. Dodging a pretty nice roundhouse kick as he reaches the brunette’s blind spot, Johnny easily follows the kick and sweeps in, hooking his knee under the retreating leg, lifting it up and dragging the boy down onto the mat. Daniel lands with a gasp as the air is knocked out of his chest, leg still tangled between Johnny’s, as the blonde kneels over him.

With a dramatic flourish, the taller boy lightly punches the other boy in the stomach, gaining the last point he needed to win.

He falls forward onto his hands, closing his eyes as the exhaustion catches up with him. Feeling Daniel squirm under him, he pushes himself backwards onto the mat, drawing in his legs from Daniel before popping a kip up. His feet land heavily on the mat next to the boy.

“The fight isn’t over.”

Johnny wipes a clammy hand across his sweaty forehead, shoving his hair back and out of his face. He turns towards James, tired and confused.

“But I got the last point,” he breathlessly states, gesturing to Daniel next to him.

“That wasn’t a punch, Mr. Lawrence,” James’ eyes narrow from the sidelines. “Do it right.”

“But the hit wasn’t even blocked,” the boy bites back, “Who cares how hard I hit him?”

The larger man walks onto the mats, turning to face the kids watching.

“If you’re ever in a fight, you may think that flashy moves would scare off enemies and you don’t actually have to fight,” he walks over to Daniel, reaching a hand out to the boy, “But some enemies can sense your fear, your weakness.” He pats the brunette on the back once he’s steady on his feet again before moving towards the blonde.

“And once they sense how truly weak you are,” his shining grey eyes turn to pin the taller boy under his gaze, “They will do everything in their power to break you.” Johnny glares and bites his tongue, a sharp and childish retort trapped in his throat. It whines to be released, feeling his windpipe tightening and closing around it.

“Prove to me that you’re not weak.”

He steps back, leaving the boys to face each other. Daniel shrugs, raising his hands defensively. Johnny rolls his eyes and readies himself to strike.

“Fight!”

Again, the boys punch and kick and block and block until the blonde has the brunette in his crosshairs. He throws a wide punch to his side, a little harder than last time. The shorter boy rubs at his ribs, backing away. Johnny turns back to the older man, an eyebrow raised in question, as if to say, “Happy?”

The older man crosses his arms. “Again.”

“Seriously?” Before the blonde can argue, Daniel steps in closer, raising his hands again.

“It’s okay, Johnny. We can do it again,” the brunette smiles brightly, “Maybe I’ll get you this time.” The taller boy looks him over, seeing the sweat drip from his dark hair down the side of his face and under his ear. He’s tired; he won’t win.

But Johnny readies himself again, his vision blurring as he shifts his weight between his feet. I’m tired, too. But I have to win…

Win. Win for us.

“Fight!”

It’s a close call, hands and arms almost tangling together as they block small jabs instead of sweeping kicks like before. At one point, they end up almost back to back, trying to break out of the corps-à-corps by swinging at each other as they try to flip. With a nasty elbow jab to the other boy’s ribs, Johnny ducks under a wide side punch, kicking Daniel squarely in the chest. The brunette stumbles back, crashing into the edge of the mat.

“Point,” Johnny gasps, his knees trembling. He doesn’t even bother looking over at James, just moves towards the railing and ducks under slowly, his head killing him at this point. He walks in autopilot up the hill, the burning in his legs and lungs almost going numb as he struggles to keep his equilibrium straight.

I won. I won. I won.

You won. This time.

Johnny doesn’t recognize the creaking cabin steps under his feet, the rough wood of the door against his forearm as he pushes it open. He doesn’t recognize the table as it rams against his hip, sending him stumbling into a nearby bunk. He doesn’t recognize the cold smoothness of the knob under his shaking hands or the damp and smelly clothes he removes like a layer of peeling sunburnt skin.

What he does recognize is the feeling of water on his face, trailing down his shaggy hair and pooling at his feet, swirling around the old aluminum drain cover. He also recognizes a voice yelling at him from behind the curtain, its notable Jersey accent ranting and raving in colorful consonant sounds and long melodic vowels. He lets the water flow down his body, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the cool tile. He slowly starts to recognize the feeling of his limbs again, a strange seasickness consuming him as he sways side to side.

At some point, he grabs the soap and actually washes his skin and hair. When his hand grabs onto the knob, turning it off, he still hears the other boy talking and arguing? He grabs a towel and stands in the puddle, just listening to the other shower run as the brunette shouts over the water.

The water finally shuts off.

“Like, I don’t care if you kick my ass in a class or a tournament or whatever!” the brunette steps out, a towel around his waist. “Not like you had a problem with kicking my ass anywhere before, really. But why do ya gotta be so weird about it now?”

The blonde stares at him, or maybe through him. “I don’t care about winning, idiot.”

–

During dinner, Johnny tries to take a bite of whatever is placed on his tray, but the food turns to mush on his tongue, sliding uncomfortably down into his empty stomach. As he looks up from his tray, his eyes pass over the room, unfocused. He spots the corkboard by the front doors and sighs, suddenly feeling antsy. Grabbing his tray of food, he quietly dumps it in the trash can, placing the tray by the kitchen window. He can feel eyes watching him, observing him, judging him.

The temperature in the room spikes and the walls breathe in deeply, their wooden panels stretching out towards him, taking up more space. He needs space. His space. Without a word to anyone who may notice him gone, he pushes open one of the side doors, exiting out into the cool night air.

He sits down at an old picnic table just outside the door, the lamplight flickering overhead as larger moths try to consume it. He closes his eyes, breathing in the night, letting it fill him. The chatter and noises from the lodge are still heard outside, but the doors do a good job at muffling the words, softening the cacophony into a rumble. The light goes out.

The blonde leans his head back, looking up at the old light, barely seeing the cobwebs and pollen dust on it now. Instead, he looks past the silhouette of the lamp and looks up at the night sky. With the other lights on around the lodge, the stars aren’t clearly visible, but it’s the clearest view he’ll get this close to LA. Looking up into the sky, letting the world around him blur and darken, he feels like he could let go and just fall in.

A whisper tugs his attention away, drawing his eyes to two dark shapes coming around the back side of the lodge. They whisper together, huddled over something in their hands. He doesn’t think they’ve seen him yet.

As they make their way around the large generator, turning the corner of the building, the blonde stands up and waits. They continue to talk in hushed voices until they pass under a small, dim light from a kitchen window. Their faces are familiar, at least, what Johnny can see of them in the shadows. The kids from Timmy’s camcorder.

With an excited, almost feverish stride, he rounds the table and walks into their path, blocking them in the shadows. At the sight of a counselor t-shirt, they freeze, immediately shoving their hands behind their backs or in their pockets.

“So, was there weed in the Sheriff’s truck?” he asks simply, keeping his stance wide but loose. No need to scare them yet.

The boys look at each other, a conversation between their eyes and small movements of their shoulders and elbows. They turn back to the taller boy, faces unreadable.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit, kid,” Johnny rocks on the balls of his feet, “I know you stole his keys and I know you got into his truck. Now, what did you find?” The boys hold his stare for a moment before one of the boys leans in and whispers to the other. They straighten up and look back at the blonde.

“Even if we did what you say we did, why would we tell you?” The boy with the dark shaved head and ill-fitting shirt licks his lips nervously. The other, with dirty long blonde hair, nervously plays with a cigarette behind his ear. Johnny takes a step forward, keeping some distance between them. He’s only an inch or two taller, but he has the experience, the strength, to take them both down in a heartbeat. He smiles, his blue eyes shining brightly in the dark.

A beat.

Unwavering control. Unblinking.

The skinhead gulps and shrugs, lowering his eyes to the ground.

“We just grabbed a bunch of small stuff in his ‘evidence’ locker in the back. There were some bagged things…looked like they were covered in blood.”

“What did you take?” Johnny asks, the smile still on his face.

“We just grabbed some papers and a tape,” the greasy kid shrugged, moving his hand from behind his back, holding up the black VHS tape. Johnny holds out his hand and the boys give him the tape and some opened envelopes with postage.

“And?"

“...and?” the boys ask, clearly hiding something else.

“And what else did you take?” the blonde asks, watching them intently. They squirm and try to shake their heads, until Johnny raises an eyebrow, waiting for them to answer.

The boy with the shaved head groans and pulls a glass bottle from his large baggy pants pocket. With a glare, he tosses the half-filled bottle of amber liquid towards the blonde, frowning as the taller boy catches it before it falls. He looks at the label and sees that it’s a decent brand of whisky.

“Anything else?” he asks, a laugh on his breath. The boys shake their heads.

“Just a pack of cigs, man. Want to take them, too?” the skinhead mutters, clearly the more vocal of the two. Johnny’s eyes narrow, but he shakes his head.

“Nah, keep ‘em,” he walks away from them, heading towards the paved path up the hill, “Just don’t get caught.”

He starts the hike up the hill, glancing at the blank label on the tape. Before he can shuffle the mail in his hands, he hears footsteps behind him.

Stopping, he tilts his head and listens. The footsteps stop.

After a moment, he starts walking again. And hears the following footsteps again. He stops and turns around, seeing someone just out of the lamplight’s range.

“What do you want?” he asks, his voice rough with annoyance.

The figure steps forward into the light, his dark hair glowing pale in the yellow light. With an awkwardness, he reaches up to the back of his head and waves a shy hand.

“I uh- I just wanted to make sure you were okay?” Daniel offers, taking a few more steps up the hill to stand across from the blonde. “You seemed off tonight, well, since the karate class…” The taller boy tightens his grip on the confiscated items, glaring down at the shorter boy.

“I’m okay,” he mumbles. Daniel’s gaze goes to the bottle of whisky in his hand.

“You sure about that?” he points to the bottle, “Wait, where did you even get alcohol?” The blonde shushes him and turns away, continuing up the hill.

“I’m a counselor,” Johnny offers after a beat, “I confiscated it.” The brunette sidles up next to him, matching his pace.

“Sooo… are you going to turn it in?”

Johnny slides his gaze towards the other boy and grins.

“Turn what in?”

“The… the bott- oh,” Daniel rolls his eyes and shakes his head. They hike up the hill quietly, the shorter boy clearly wanting to ask more questions or talk the blonde’s ear off.

“Alright, spit it out,” Johnny breaks the silence as they near their cabin. The brunette looks up at him before looking ahead of them.

“You’re different,” he blurts out before backtracking his words, “Well, not different different, but you know what I mean.”

“I’m not different. I’m just like everyone else.” The blonde frowns, now uncomfortable. He continues past the cabin steps, walking north towards the fire pit area. If the brunette notices, he doesn’t say anything about it, just follows.

“I dunno, man,” the shorter boy argues, “I don’t think you’re like everyone else. Which isn’t a bad thing! You may be an asshole and pretty and popula-”

“You think I’m pretty, huh?” The blonde interrupts with a dark smirk.

“Shut up, jerk,” the shorter boy dares to nudge the other boy with his elbow, pleasantly surprised when the blonde doesn’t tense up. “As I was sayin’, you’re definitely like other people, in Encino, at least, but there’s something different about you.”

“I’m not different!” Johnny halts his steps, frowning at the other boy’s back before he turns around.

“Alright, alright, you’re not different! Jeeze,” Daniel raises his hands in surrender, shrugging awkwardly as he gets the other boy to keep walking after him. “Well, at least you talk to me now. Or yell at me, and not just about karate, so I guess tha’s better, right?” The brunette leans in, waiting for a response. Johnny rolls his eyes.

“Right.”

“Okay, then!” Daniel claps his hands together as they turn off the dirt path towards the large stone-walled fire pit, surrounded by old wooden benches. “Tell me, who’s Johnny Lawrence?”

The blonde sighs, setting down the bottle, tape, and mail on a bench near the pit.

“What do you mean?”

“Like, what do you like besides karate? Where do you and your Cobras hang out? What’s your family like? Tell me about yourself!” The shorter boy crouches down next to him as he pulls out a small flashlight, searching the area for a matchbook or lighter.

Hidden in a cracked cinderblock, Johnny finds a plastic lighter, grabbing some leaves and loose brush to light over the leftover wood. Daniel just hovers, watching and waiting for an answer. The blonde focuses on the flame, waiting until it’s greedily eating away at a splinter piece of wood. He places another thin log next to the flame, not wanting to build too large of a fire.

“I like music…and riding my bike down to the beach,” he finally answers, sitting down next to the bottle on the bench. Daniel moves around him, sitting next to him, but straddling the bench between his legs.

“That’s cool, man! What kind of music do you like?” he asks eagerly. Johnny watches the fire lick at the new piece of wood, growing larger and brighter. A small smile forms on his face, actually nervous, but excited to talk about his favorite bands. But he does. And Daniel actually listens.

They talk for what feels like hours about their favorite action films, and their dream concerts they’d love to see, only stopping whenever Johnny needs to feed the fire. Johnny grabs the bottle after sitting down, taking a long swig from it. It burns all the way down his throat and makes his eyes water, but the warmth sits comfortably in his stomach as the night grows cooler. Another drink, and his limbs are pleasantly tingly and relaxed. He hands the bottle to the other boy, laughing as Daniel almost chokes on the harsh liquid.

The brunette coughs, and Johnny reaches over, patting his back lightly. His hand stills, realizing what he’s doing. He pulls his shaking hand away and looks back into the fire as Daniel tries to take another drink from the bottle, slower this time.

“Can I just ask what happened?” he chokes out, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “After the tournament? In the parking lot?”

The parking lot. Orange streetlights dimming into shades of grey. A suffocating pressure. A snake around his throat. Blood. Kreese.

“Uh, um- I don’t want to talk about it.” Angry tears well up in Johnny’s eyes, blurring the orange and yellow flames before him. This close to the fire, he feels its warmth, its comforting light. But he also feels its threat, its dangerous nature. Some part of him growls at the flame, at the light, angry and scared of what it brings. He leans away, letting his face fall into the darker shadows of the trees around them.

He feels something hard press against his arm and looking down, he sees the glass bottle being offered to him. He smiles sadly, briefly, taking the bottle from the other boy. Their fingers overlap and he notices how bad his hands are shaking now. But Daniel doesn’t say anything, just holds the bottle until he’s sure Johnny has it securely.

“What time is it?” Johnny asks quietly, dipping his head back to take another swig.

“About two minutes to midnight,” Daniel angles his watch towards the firelight, before looking up confused. “Why?”

Johnny chuckles and takes another drink, the smoky amber liquid burning through the darkness in him.

“Happy birthday to me, I guess,” he laughs dryly, holding the bottle in his lap.

“Wait wait wait!” Daniel shuffles closer to the blonde on the bench, “It’s your birthday?” The taller boy nods his head, his vision starting to blur and swim.

“Your 18th birthday?” the brunette asks, stunned and practically vibrating. The blonde nods again, shrugging his shoulders wistfully.

“Happy birthday, man! This is huge!” the shorter boy throws his hands in the air before grabbing onto the blonde’s shoulders. “We should, like, throw ya a party or somethin’!” The blonde grimaces and tries to push Daniel’s hands off of him, his own hands lingering too long on the other boy’s skin.

“Nah, it’s fine,” he tries to brush off the embarrassment, actually liking the way the brunette’s face lights up when he looks at him. “I’m just ready to leave this camp and get back to Encino.”

Whether Daniel notices or not, Johnny feels himself closing up again, unsure of what’s up or down anymore. He tries to think about the things that make him feel happy, feel safe, and he can’t get those damn brown eyes and dark lashes out of his head. His skin feels too warm, too tight, and he takes another drink from the bottle, desperately trying to blur out the images in his head.

“-bet your parents are gonna throw you a wicked party, right? Prob at the country club or somewhere cool.” He realizes that Daniel has been talking to him, his large and playful gestures rocking the bench under them.

“No.”

“Wh- did you say something?” Daniel stops, looking curiously at Johnny. The blonde inhales a deep breath, shoving a sob back down into his chest. The colors of the fire now burning his eyes.

“Once I get back,” he mumbles, his words starting to slur a little, “I’ll be kicked out by my stepfather.” He’s not sure if Daniel heard him, but he said it. He had to say it. He’s not perfect, he’s not popular. He’s not wanted.

He feels the other boy shift around on the bench, probably getting up to leave. Johnny closes his eyes, his admission calling the painful drum of his earlier headache back in full force. His left eye burns bright red behind his eyelid.

He watches from afar, behind a tree, as the brunette pulls something small out of his pocket before taking hold of the blonde’s arm. He can feel those soft and calloused fingers around his arm, around his wrist. He moves out from behind the tree, moving closer to watch as the shorter boy ties something around his wrist.

Snap.

A sharp sound breaks nearby, and Johnny sits up, opening his eyes to look around. The trees and bushes nearby are quiet, dark and still against the night. Some of the fire’s embers float in the air, orange and red. He catches a pair of silver embers hovering in one spot, but the movement of fingers on his skin pull him away. He looks down at the braided bracelet now tied against his skin, threads of red and green and yellow. He lifts his gaze up to the brunette’s face, seeing a bright and warm smile beaming back.

“I know it’s not much, but I think a friendship bracelet is a pretty cool birthday gift when you’re stuck at summer camp, right?”

Johnny bites his lower lip, his bloodshot eyes watering against his control. He nods, not trusting his voice. Yeah. I guess it’s pretty cool.

Daniel turns back to the fire, the light catching all of the right angles of his cheekbones and nose. He starts to ramble again, and Johnny lets him. He’s got all of his attention now.

Chapter Text

Johnny fingers the knotted end of string tickling the soft inner skin of his forearm. He smiles to himself, not caring that the night has grown cold and the fire barely burns through the charred remains of wood. Not caring that the wooden bench is digging painfully into his shoulder blades as they lay across them.

He sees the brunette’s arm lift and cut across his view, pointing up at the sky over their heads. Before Daniel can guess the star’s name or whatever it is that he’s doing, a small scream rips through the quiet of the night.

Daniel sits up and stares at the blonde as they listen to the soft wind and creaking of trees around them. Another scream, followed by raised voices and a sudden light filling the windows of their cabin.

Both boys jump from the benches before Johnny stomps out the remaining embers and grabs the confiscated items, racing back to the building. As they run onto the paved path leading down the hill, they see some of the kids standing outside the front door in their pajamas.

“What’s going on?”

“What happened?”

They both ask at the same time, immediately searching for insight in the faces of the terrified campers. None of the kids appear injured or hurt, which both boys let out sighs of relief. Just scared.

“I woke up ‘cause I had to pee and there was this person trying to get in through the window!” the shorter dark-skinned teen with the blocky afro tries to explain before one of the middle schoolers interrupts.

“It was a monster!” the auburn-haired boy stands on the wooden steps with no shoes on, his large shirt hiding his arms. “And it did come inside! I saw it!”

“It wasn’t a monster!” the tall teen with wild wavy light-brown hair scoffs.

The girl with the bowl cut stands just inside the doorway, squinting without her glasses.

“Someone or something was definitely inside,” she stammers out, pointing towards the corner of the room, “They were over there.”

Johnny follows her hand, entering into the main room of the cabin where the other kids stand around. He spots strewn clothes on the floor, his clothes. As he walks past the front-facing bunks, he discovers his sleeping bag is torn and the mattress is pulled off of the bed. Hurrying over, he finds his bag ripped open, clothes spilling out from it. Thankfully, he finds his Walkman and headphones shoved into the corner on the floor, seemingly unscathed.

An anger fills him, the childish part of his mind upset and hurt. He whirls around, wanting to yell and scream and shove and punch anyone who’s close enough, but he stops.

Puddles of water sit against the old wooden floor boards, seeping slowly into the grooves between each panel. He steps forward, sensing some of the kids backing away, and he crouches down by the corner of Daniel’s bunk. Grimacing, he pulls a damp strand of some type of grass or seaweed from the bed post, letting it drip as he holds it.

“Johnny, what is it?” Daniel asks, crouching down beside him. “Is there something wrong? Should I go get another counselor?”

Searching the room, he spots more of the wet stalks, caught against another bunk in front of the back door. He stands up and moves to the door, pushing it open with little force. The door swings open slowly, its hinges creaking in the silence. He leans out, looking down at the locking mechanism. It’s wet and covered in another long strand of seaweed, surrounded by long splintering scratch marks. His eyes drift down to the concrete patio just outside of the door, wet with large and dragging footprints.

“Johnny?”

It’s okay. You’re safe.

“It’s okay,” he repeats, closing the door carefully before locking it again. “You’re safe. It was probably just another counselor playing a prank on me or something.” He looks at all of the campers standing around, unsure of what they saw and heard. Daniel looks like he wants to say something, but Johnny shakes his head.

“Alright, back to bed, guys,” he walks over to the light switch by the front door, watching as the kids come back inside before closing the door. They all make their way slowly into their bunks, whispering amongst themselves. “Go to sleep. There are no monsters, and if someone tries to come in again, I’ll kick their ass.” He turns out the lights before heading back towards his bunk, picking up his discarded clothes on the way.

Johnny straightens the mattress and throws his sleeping bag and pillow back onto the bed with a huff, shoving the VHS tape and letters underneath.

–

As the morning light spreads throughout the cabin, the sounds of people waking up and moving around, Johnny groans and throws an arm over his face. His head is killing him. Before he can doze off again, another groan reaches his ears and he slides his arm up a little, one bloodshot blue eye meeting an equally red and puffy brown eye. He laughs lightly, Daniel’s moaning giggles matching how he feels.

They force their tired bodies to get up and get dressed, both donning sunglasses to help with the mild hangovers playing drum solos in their heads.

As they walk through the doors of the main lodge for breakfast, the smell of food surprisingly doesn’t make Johnny sick. His skin is still clammy and cool with exhaustion, and his discolored fingers still shake, but he prays that his stomach holds it together. Because he’s starving.

Click click.

He slides his tray over to the older woman’s window, trying to force his face into a smile behind his glasses.

“Mornin’, blue eyes,” the old woman clicks her tongs together before placing a few pieces of bacon on his tray. “You don’t look so well.”

“I’m fine,” he shrugs and adverts his eyes. Even with the sunglasses on, it feels like she’s staring straight into his eyes. “Just had a late night, I guess.” She clicks her tongs together in thought, ignoring Daniel’s tray next to him.

“Hmm…why don’t I cook you up somethin’ meatier then. We got that fresh fish from the lake for lunch. Let me cook one up for you-”

“I’m okay! I don’t think eating fish would help,” his stomach clenches at the thought of eating fish. The brunette snickers next to him.

“Yeah, maybe if the birthday boy had some cake, it might help,” he jokes.

Johnny hits him on the back of the head lightly as he feels the older woman staring at both of them quietly.

“Alright, but you better eat soon, blue eyes,” Edna clicks her tongs towards the blonde. “You’ll need your strength.”

Johnny frowns, pulling his tray away from the window. I’m literally getting food to eat now… What is she talking about? He feels the brunette join his side a moment later, following him towards the beverage bar in the corner.

“What was that all about?” Daniel asks. “Fish for breakfast?”

“I have no idea, man,” Johnny shakes his head, truly not knowing what anything she says means. “But I hate fish.”

–

After breakfast, Johnny checks over the schedule before heading through the heavy wooden doors and into the bright and already warm morning. He winces, his head still sensitive to the light, but feeling much better after finally having eaten. The door barely closes before he feels it open again behind him, already knowing that the brunette is following. He feels the shorter boy hop down the wooden steps and fall into place next to him.

“So, I was thinking-” Daniel starts.

“Oh no, you…thinking? That’s not good,” the blonde quips, a smirk curling on his lips.

“I’m serious!” Daniel hurries a few steps, turning backwards as he talks. “Why don’t we throw ya a party tonight? In the cabin. Or maybe we can throw one in the lodge? Not sure what the rules are for using the place in the evening…”

“Nah, I’m good,” Johnny shakes his head, sticking his hands into the pockets of his shorts. The whistle around his neck swings side to side as he walks.

“C’mon, man,” the brunette whines, “It’s not every day you turn eighteen. And if we can’t get you a cake or somethin’, we should at least throw ya a party!”

“I said I’m fine, Newark-” Johnny grabs onto the shorter boy’s shoulder and spins him around before he trips over a large stone lining the paved path. “I don’t need anyone else knowing it’s my birthday, okay?” The blonde lets go of the other boy, his hand slightly shoving him away by habit. Daniel seems to take the hint and walks slightly further away from the taller boy. They walk up the hill for a few steps before the brunette speaks up again.

“Why not?”

“What do you mean?” Johnny stops in his tracks, frowning from beneath his glasses. Daniel takes a step then stops, keeping the distance between them.

“Why don’t you-”

Ahh!

They turn away, looking back in the direction they came. Across from the main lodge, in the sandy volleyball pit, a few teens huddle over another kid. He looks like he’s clutching his arm.

“Shit, someone go grab the nurse!” one of the teens cries out, prompting another to run into the main lodge. Johnny and Daniel stand in the middle of the path, watching as a lithe woman with large red cateye glasses and curly bright red hair runs out of the building and towards the fallen child. Behind her, James Kreese hurries out, his presence keeping everyone at a distance. Johnny’s throat goes dry suddenly.

“Here, here,” she coaxes him to release his arm, “Let me see… hmm, might be a fracture or just a sprain.” She turns it slightly, pressing softly around the boy’s wrist as he winces and gasps.

“Let’s get him up and take him inside,” James orders, helping the smaller woman lift the boy to his feet. She starts to guide the boy towards the leadership cabin.

“Oh, give him one of Jerry’s tonics. Should help with the pain,” James calls after them. He nods to the other kids, allowing them to resume their game.

“Oh, yes, that’ll be perfect,” the nurse smiles down at the boy in her arms as they pass Johnny and Daniel, “You’ll feel better in no time.”

Johnny uses the moment to walk away from the brunette, really not wanting James to spot him hungover. He hears a couple of whistles go off further up the hill, seeing the faint outlines of Claire and Stevey gathering their campers together in a large circle.

Squinting past the sun rays, he can also see Counselors Rob and Liam talking to their campers across from them, handing out colored scraps of fabric. Johnny’s own campers are standing with them, intermingling with them. Johnny looks back at the brunette and waves his hand, gesturing for him to hurry up.

After the two teams of kids attach their red and blue flags onto their belts, Stevey and Rob explain the rules: one point for each player’s flag and ten points each for the four hidden team flags. Johnny leans against a tall wooden lamppost, his tired mind letting his attention float throughout the campground. He watches Claire flirt with Liam under a nearby tree, a tall dark-skinned guy who’s apparently a med student and way out of Claire’s league. Bored of that, his attention drifts back to the main lodge, where he spots two figures by one of the picnic tables.

He can’t hear them, but he observes the Sheriff standing next to the table with his hands on his hips. The Deputy sits on the edge of the table, clearly pissed, gesturing wildly and talking about something. He gestures to his overshirt, and the boy realizes that he’s not wearing his badge like the older man. The blonde deputy runs a hand through his hair, as the older man seems to berate him. Johnny’s face flushes with heat as he sees the Sheriff shoves and smack the younger man, feeling somewhat embarrassed and awkward for witnessing this moment between the two men. As the older man turns and heads back into the lodge, Johnny remembers the tape and mail stolen from the man’s truck.

Now curious about these two men, he waits until the Capture the Flag game starts before he ducks away and runs back up the hill towards his cabin. As soon as he opens the front door and starts moving towards his bunk, the door swings open behind him.

“Now, I’ve only played this game a few times, but I don’t think they usually hide the flags indoors,” an annoying Jersey accent cuts through some heavy breathing. The blonde shushes him and closes the door with a slam, almost catching the shorter boy’s foot.

“Hey, what’s the big deal?” Daniel yelps before Johnny hurries over to his bunk, pulling out the VHS tape and letters from under his bunk mattress. He turns the tape over in his hands, making sure he didn’t miss anything. Just a blank label.

“Those authorities from the town,” the taller boy mumbles as he sets the tape down, “Do they seem weird to you?” He senses Daniel sit down on his bunk across him, his knees bumping into his.

“Uh, I guess? But isn’t that what all authorities are supposed to be like?” Daniel leans forward with a confused frown, “Like, they purposefully act like jerks to scare off people from doing illegal things or whatever?” Johnny can’t help but agree, nodding pensively as he grabs one of the letters, reaching into the already opened envelope and tugging the folded paper out.

It’s an official letter from the Department of Internal Affairs, addressed to Ben Stoker. The deputy. Skimming over the page, it informs the young man that he’s been accepted into the department and that he’s been offered the position of Investigator.

“What is it? What does it say?” Daniel asks, breaking through his thoughts as he reads.

“It’s a letter to the Deputy, offering him a new job in Internal Affairs,” Johnny informs the brunette, still trying to piece things together.

“Oh. That’s cool. Congrats to him, I guess?” the shorter boy leans back on his bed. “But what’s that got to do with them being ‘weird?’”

“It’s weird because it was taken out of the Sheriff’s truck, not the Deputy’s,” Johnny folds the paper and puts it back in the envelope, “So why does the Sheriff have this?”

“I dunno, maybe the Deputy showed it to him and forgot to take it back, so the Sheriff was holding onto it for him?” Daniel tries to logically think of an excuse, but Johnny doesn’t buy it. “Still doesn’t scream weird to me. Why are you so hung up on it?”

The blonde pulls open the other envelope, this one packed with multiple sheets of folded paper. As he unfolds them, his eyes widen and his heart starts to race. He flips through them; each one, one after the other, like dunking his head into icy water over and over again.

“What? Let me see!” Daniel reaches for the papers and yanks them out of the other boy’s grasp.

Missing persons reports. Persons.

And after looking at the dates, these are all recently filed cases. He checks the envelope for any info, but it’s just a plain envelope with only one name on the front: Tim Donovan.

“Oh, man, this is crazy, ya know?” Daniel flips through the posters, “These all say that these people disappeared around the lake. Elsinore Lake.”

Johnny notices his trembling fingers, darker and more blue and green than yesterday. He stands up quickly, almost hitting his head on the top bunk, before he starts to pace the floor.

“Katie Wells, Derrick Torrance, Manny Lopez, Trisha St-”

“Wait,” Johnny’s head jolts up, his heart beating painfully in his chest, “What was that name?” Daniel blinks up at the sudden outburst before turning back to the papers.

“Uh, Trisha Stonewell-”

“No no, before that!”

“Oh, uh, Manny Lopez,” Daniel looks up from the paper to the taller boy pacing before him, confused and uncomfortable. “Did you know him?”

Johnny stops and turns towards the brunette, meeting his eyes.

“Y-yeah. Yeah, we both do,” the blonde stammers, a new wave of fear washing over him. “He’s the counselor for cabin 2.”

Chapter Text

Johnny paces along the small strip of floor boards in between the bunks, as Daniel watches him, processing the information.

“Wait, wait…so he’s not missing?”

“Technically…no?” the taller boy shrugs, “But that one counselor, Taylor, the one who went missing- kept going on and on before camp started about how Manny wasn’t Manny.”

“What does that even mean?” Daniel asks dubiously, his eyes following the blonde.

“I have no idea! I didn’t know what it meant then, and I definitely don’t know what it means now.” Johnny huffs and kicks a bed post, the need to punch or kick something stirring deep within him.

“Okay, so the Sheriff has a bunch of missing persons reports and a job offer letter for the Deputy,” the brunette waves the reports and gestures to the opened IA letter on Johnny’s bed, “And one is for Counselor Manny, who is alive and here…but may not be Manny. What’s with the tape?” He nods his chin towards the blank VHS tape also on the bed.

“I don’t know…” Johnny runs a shaky hand through his hair, tugging anxiously on some of the blonde locks right behind his ear. He tries to take a deep breath, but his headache protests that much oxygen. “We need to find a TV and VCR. Maybe there’s something on there that ties everything together?” The shorter boy nods quietly, folding up the reports and putting them back into the envelope.

“Hmm we could ask Counselor Stevey? He’s the head of all of the AV stuff. He probably has a setup somewhere.” Johnny stops, his camo Converse sneakers squeaking against the polished floor.

“Stevey… he’s playing on the other team,” the blonde thinks aloud before his eyes pass over the black brace on the brunette’s left knee. A pressure tightens around his throat, but he pushes it down, smiling slowly to the boy sitting across from him.

“Think you’re up for looking for our team flag?”

–

Both boys exit out of their cabin after hiding the envelopes and tape under Daniel’s mattress, for better safe-keeping. They immediately start arguing in the middle of the sun-flooded pathway about where to look for the team flag. Feeling his brow grow warm with sweat, Johnny wants to take the easy way and just ask Rob or Liam where they hid the flags, but Daniel figures that they’d have a better use of their time by looking for Stevey, in case he’s guarding their team’s flags. Typical. Has to do everything differently.

After three rounds of rock-paper-scissors, Johnny wins with a cheeky grin and they quickly race down the hill to find Liam sitting under a shady tree by cabin 4 with Claire still drooling over him. She blows a large bubble in her gum, popping it loudly with attitude, as they interrupt her advances. Not caring if Claire hears their conversation, not that she would care for the game any way, Daniel easily convinces Liam to tell them where they hid one of the flags.

They run east towards the large fallen tree behind the rock climbing wall, and quickly spot the red flag partially pinned between the exposed roots of the tree. Johnny places his hands on his hips, taking in large gulps of air as Daniel places his hands on his knees, chest heaving from running.

“Hah,” Johnny grins around breaths, “Beat you.”

“Hey, man, we weren’t racing,” Daniel glares and shakes his head in disbelief. “Besides… you have longer legs. That’s cheating.”

“Cheating?” Johnny laughs, wiping the sweat from his neck, “I’d say you having three lungs is cheating.” The brunette stands up, leaning his weight on his good leg, balling his fists on his hips.

“What d’you mean? I only have two lungs, genius. Did you already forget human anatomy from biology class?”

Johnny chuckles and leans in slightly, his eyes now level with the other boy.

“If it’s not an extra lung,” he smirks, “then why do you have so much air in your head?” He pushes a long finger into the brunette’s sweaty forehead, laughing more as Daniel tries to swipe it away.

“Shut up, jerk!” The shorter boy scoffs, looking around the campsite from their slightly elevated position, occasionally seeing a pair or trio of red or blue flagged players run by. “Okay, Mr. Long Legs, what’s next then? What’s your plan here?”

Johnny looks down at the long, tangled roots erupting from the dirt and grass and finds a decently large root to sit on. He leans his hands back against the cool earth and looks up at the brunette through his sunglasses.

“We wait.”

Daniel sneers, throwing his hands up in surrender, “Wait? What if he doesn’t even come looking for this flag?” The boy pointedly raises his eyebrows behind his aviators and stares back at Johnny. The blonde groans and rolls his head back behind his shoulders, trying to clear up the headache he still has.

“He will,” the taller boy stretches his long legs across the roots, his foot kicking Daniel’s shoe on purpose, “or we’ll at least see him come by and then we’ll, I don’t know, taunt him over here.”

“Taunt him over here?” The brunette finally gives up and finds a medium-sized rock partially hidden under the dirt and moss to sit on. “Should have known that was Johnny Lawrence’s plan: wait and taunt.” The blonde playfully kicks the other boy again, a light smile breaking across his face.

Turns out, they didn’t have to wait long. About ten minutes later, the olive-skinned, shorter man with large ears and dark, shiny hair stopped just below them, wiping the sweat from his brow. He watches the kids run up and down the hill, a blue flag still hanging around the back of his waist. I could take it… He wouldn’t even notice until I’m right behind him.

Johnny shakes his head, clearing the competitive thoughts before he picks up a small rock and tosses it towards the pavement near Stevey’s feet. The other man hears the sound, looking towards the top of the path in confusion. Johnny grabs another rock and throws it harder, closer to his feet. Daniel rolls his eyes and cups his mouth.

“Counselor Stevey!” The older guy looks around for the source of the call. He turns in a circle, finally catching Daniel’s yellow shirt higher up. He spots the red flag around the brunette’s waist and eyes him suspiciously.

“What?”

Daniel raises his hands in surrender, calling back down to him, “Time out! We need to speak with you.” Johnny groans as he stands up, peeking out from behind Timber-Toes, raising his hands up, despite feeling stupid. Stevey walks towards them slowly, still watching them carefully.

“Stevey, we need a TV with a VCR. Where do you keep yours?” Johnny asks, finally putting his hands down, keeping his discolored fingers curled up and out of sight.

“What?” the other guy asks, surprised by the request, “Uh, the TV I have is locked up. Security and whatnot. Why?”

“It’s important. We need to use it,” Daniel pipes up, turning on those damn puppy-like brown eyes. Johnny huffs under his breath.

“I don’t think James wants me letting people use the equipment outside of class-” Stevey crosses his arms, taking a step away from the two boys.

“Please, it’s urgent and super important,” the brunette says hurriedly, not wanting to lose this chance. “We’ll do anything.” The darker man pauses his retreat and looks deeply into their faces.

“Anything?”

“Not any-”

“Yes!”

“No- Fine, yes, anything,” Johnny says through gritted teeth, wanting to strangle the shorter boy for whatever deal they seem to be making. Stevey watches the two boys glare at each other before interrupting.

“Give me a team flag,” he extends a hand out, “Then I’ll tell you where everything is.”

“Ugh, this goes against every fiber of my being,” Johnny reaches down into the roots and pulls the red flag free. “Here.” He hands the flag over, and before he can say anything, Daniel moves slightly around the older man, standing in his way in case he tries to run. A strange feeling of…pride washes over the blonde. Maybe the twerp isn’t so dumb.

“Sweet!” Stevey doesn’t seem to notice the movement or maybe doesn’t acknowledge it, “The AV equipment is kept in the Leadership cabin. But don’t let anyone catch you and don’t tell anyone I told you. Got it?” Johnny and Daniel nod their heads in agreement before the blonde tilts his head, telling the brunette to step aside. Once he’s out of the way, Stevey hurries back down to the paved path and further up the hill towards a group of his campers.

Daniel steps towards the taller boy and places his hands on his hips.

“How’re we gonna get in there?” Johnny looks to his left, peering past the small trees and shrubs towards the lighter cabin with the green roof.

“We’ll wait until dinner,” the blonde thinks aloud, “It’ll be dark enough to slip in and out without potential witnesses walking around. But we’ll need to do it quickly, so no one notices we’re gone.” He blinks and looks down at the brunette standing next to him. Daniel looks worried, maybe even afraid. But he steels himself, his mouth setting into a thin line, and nods, giving a half-assed and playful salute. The blonde rolls his eyes with a chuckle and pushes him away before walking away from the tree.

“Now, let’s see if we can win this game and get our flag back.”

–

The heavy cast iron bell rings across the hill and through the tall trees and darkened cabins, signalling dinner is ready for the many hungry and excited campers scattered throughout the campground. Johnny follows some of the counselors through the front doors, eyeing the shorter brunette entering through the side doors. He watches the other boy talk and laugh with the two oldest boys from their cabin, grabbing a tray from the stack behind them. As the blonde gets into line, he smiles at Manny and Cynthia who sit down at the Counselor’s table, continuing a conversation before Claire joins them.

Daniel pretends to have forgotten a fork and pulls away from the kitchen window, setting his tray back onto the stack before slipping out the side doors. Johnny calmly scouts the room for James Kreese, Freddie, and any of the other leadership team members before he backs away from the line, pushing past a pair of campers entering through the side doors.

He feels the plastic tape press into his lower back as he hops over the concrete stairs before pausing at the nearby picnic table he sat at the other night. Looking around, he observes the Sheriff and Deputy enter into the lodge behind a group of campers, joining in on the meal, since they too, are stuck on the mountain until the road is cleared. He waits until another counselor leads their campers into the lodge before he crosses the pathway leading towards the Leadership cabin.

Standing in the shadow of the rock climbing wall, he barely spots the shorter boy waiting for him, hands nervously stuffed in his pockets. Johnny pulls out his headband, tying it around his forehead, grounding himself for the mission. Daniel scoffs, probably judging how badass the blonde looks versus his not badass attire. Johnny sweeps his blonde bangs out of his face and smirks before walking out of the shadow and towards the front door.

He tests the door knob and it turns stiffly, but it turns. He feels Daniel twisting his head from side to side, keeping a lookout. With a little effort, the taller boy pushes the door open and steps into the front sun room. As the brunette closes the door quietly behind them, Johnny looks around at the old wicker and rattan furniture, a cozy and secluded space to enjoy the morning and sunset views. A lazy three-armed fan rotates slowly overhead, its blades creaking slightly as it makes a full rotation.

He reaches for the next door, finding it easier to open, leading into a simple dark green-carpeted living room facing a small kitchenette with white-tiled countertops and a small fridge. A corkboard hangs over one of the couches, numerous pieces of important paperwork and sticky notes with schedules and reminders covering it.

The boys move about the cabin quickly but carefully, trying to not bump into any of the furniture or personal belongings of the leadership team. We can’t leave any traces that anyone was in here. They push open the first doors on the left and right of a skinny white-walled hallway, finding a small bathroom and a comfortable two-bed bedroom. No TV spotted yet.

Daniel starts to close the door to the bathroom. Something catches Johnny’s eye over the boy’s shoulder and he pushes it open an inch, ignoring the small noise of protest. His eyes hover over to the small window cracked open over the toilet. Long dark green tendrils of leafy stalks peek in between the plane of glass and the aluminum frame. They curl like fingers, dripping water down the wall in slow rivulets. Taken aback, he opens the door further, confused as to what kind of plant could possibly be rooted right outside, lifting his gaze up towards the top of the window.

Eyes.

Silver glowing eyes stare back at him, freezing his body in place. He desperately wants to tell the brunette to turn on the lights, to hurry and turn on the damn lights, but he can’t breathe. Can’t move. His chest tightens in horror, as he feels the shorter boy tense up next to him.

In a breadth of a heartbeat, the tendrils slink back through the window and those glowing animalistic eyes pull away. A second passes before Johnny can feel his twitching fingers move again.

“What the fuck was that??” the boy next to him hisses, voice trembling.

A monst-

A friend.

“C’mon, we need to hurry and find that TV.”

Closing the door with a small ‘thud,’ he pushes past the shorter boy, hurrying down the hallway towards the last two doors. The door on the right leads to another two-bed bedroom; the light from the main lodge cutting through the gauzy curtains over the windows and through a back-facing door.

As he pushes open the door on the left, they spot a small dark boxy television sitting in the center of a simple wooden desk in the corner, surrounded by various cables and boxes of tapes and extra batteries. The blonde smiles, shaking off the remaining terror still heavy in his legs.

He steps quickly into the small bedroom, pulling out his small flashlight and shining it on the floor under the desk. The brunette follows after checking down the hallway. They work together to find the correct cables for the VCR box, plugging them into the back of the television and powering everything on.

The TV screen blooms with a cracking sound of static before filling the room in a bright blue light. Waiting.

A scratching sound comes from the window, causing Daniel to pull away from the bright screen, squinting through the curtains drawn over the glass. His eyes can’t make out the large silhouette standing just a few feet from them. His eyes don’t catch the silvery sparks of unnatural light, staring back at him. Unblinking and waiting.

Johnny rewinds the tape, tapping his antsy fingers against the metal sheeting of the VCR. He’s glad that the color doesn’t show through his nails in the blue light. Part of him relaxes at that thought. The VCR stops with a ‘click’ and he presses the play button, stepping back to watch the screen.

The footage appears in a greenish black and white, clearly security footage from some nearby rental shack on the lake, by the looks of it. There are paddle boats anchored and wading in the water just off of the small dock, and life jackets and paddle boards hanging along the wooden wall of the shack. The camera seems to be perched on the corner of the roof, overlooking the storefront and lake beyond.

After a few minutes, the boys watch an older man in a wide-brimmed Stetson hat walk into frame, stopping along the dock to look out at the lake. By his stance, Johnny can tell that he looks irritated, constantly checking his wrist watch.

He only has to wait a few minutes before Sheriff Tim Donovan and Deputy Ben Stoker arrive together. The older man doesn’t turn around when they stop behind him, saying something out loud. The Sheriff gestures towards the other end of the dock, maybe offering to move their conversation to a quieter place. The older man turns around for the first time and Daniel quietly points out that he’s wearing a Sheriff badge.

With a stiff nod, all three walk out of frame, further down towards the sandy shore of the lake. The boys exchange a confused look, not sure what they’re supposed to gleam from the footage. Johnny reaches over and presses the fast-forward button on the VCR, watching out of the corner of his eye as the squiggly lines cut across the footage, small things moving in and out of frame in short bursts. Daniel holds up his hand, telling Johnny to press play, as they see the figures enter the frame again.

They watch as only two men walk back across the deck. The Sheriff not-Sheriff holds something in his hand, pinning it to his button up shirt. The Sheriff badge. In the greys of the fuzzy footage, high above the men’s heads, it’s clear that their hands are discolored. Dark and smeared across their skin as the sky darkens behind them. They continue walking across the dock, almost out of frame, when Tim Donovan stops and looks up.

Straight into the camera.

His blurry dark eyes shine through the pixels as the footage grows more green, the night view turning on. He stands for a moment, staring back at both boys, a soft and silent smile cutting brutally across his dimly-lit face. He walks off screen and they wait with baited breaths for the third man to walk across, safe and sound.

The footage glitches and Daniel points out something skimming on the lake’s surface. It’s at just enough distance from the camera that it only takes up a few pixels at a time, a strange shape moving across the screen slowly. As they lean in, trying desperately to make out what it is, they hear a whisper.

As they hold their breaths, listening to the soft creaks and steady hums of the cabin and the itching song of the night insects outside, they hear the whispering voice again, followed by another. The voices travel by the cabin, stopping near the front door.

With wide eyes, Johnny mouths ‘back door’ to the brunette, quickly ejecting the tape from the VCR and yanking the plugs from the TV. He doesn’t bother unplugging the power sources, just turning the TV and VCR off by button. He slides the now warm VHS tape into the back of his waistband, tugging his shirt over the top.

Johnny creeps out of the room, closing the door as quietly as he can before sneaking into the opposite room where Daniel waits by the back door. The brunette unlocks the door slowly, wincing as the door scrapes open through the weathered frame.

Both boys hurry through the exit, carefully closing the door behind them with another wince as it creates more sound. Still hearing the whispers talk, they sidle the panels of the cabin, inching their way around the smaller building and closer to the side entrance of the main lodge.

However, without knowing where exactly the voices are coming from, Johnny stops Daniel from running towards the lodge, the path illuminated directly under the large outdoor light. Not wanting anyone to catch them running back inside, Johnny grabs onto Daniel’s shirt and tugs him along the wall, both of them slowly walking into the thin shadow of a nearby oak tree. From here, they can now see the figures standing in the path outside of the Leadership cabin, just out of the light’s reach.

The blonde easily picks out James’ large form talking to the much smaller Counselor Freddie and the Sheriff and Deputy in hushed voices.

“Just two?” the Sheriff asks, resting his hands on his belt. His gun is clearly visible in the holster on his side.

“Yeah, that we’ve counted,” James rubs a tired hand over his face.

“What did they look like?” the Deputy asks, writing something down in what might be a small notepad.

“Troy is a skinny kid, shaved head, baggy dark clothes, probably has a skateboard with him,” the larger man answers, leaning slightly over the blonde as he writes, “Jason is average height, long blondish brown hair, probably smoking cigs or MJ.”

“And when did they go missing?”

“Not entirely sure,” Freddie dubiously answers, “They were seen last night but no one’s seen them today. Or, at least, they haven’t attended any group activities long enough to be noticed.”

“About when last night?” the Sheriff asks, a lingering question in his voice.

“Uh, around dinner, I think. Someone said they were talking to a counselor outside of the lodge before they took off.”

“Think they were the ones who broke into our cars? Stole my badge?” the Deputy turns to the older authority figure with a snarl.

“Which counselor? What did they look like?” the Sheriff asks, ignoring the younger officer.

“Uh, blonde. Oh, maybe that blonde boy you’re so keen about, Mr. Kreese?” Freddie thinks, turning towards James.

“Hmm okay, we’ll need to interrogate him,” the Sheriff turns around, his eyes falling on the main lodge before looking around at the other cabins. “Is there a quiet spac-”

“Change of plans…” James interrupts, now speaking to the smaller, squirrely counselor, “Freddie, let’s have cabin 7 meet in the Leadership cabin after dinner.” The Sheriff spins around, glaring at the taller man.

“What’s going on?”

“Freddie, here, was in a group a few years ago for addiction. They had this… game, where people were able to speak freely, without judgment,” James places his arm around Freddie’s shoulders, much to the discomfort of the smaller man, “It’ll be a better environment to get answers out of him.”

“Oh, okay… yeah, I can set that up in the cabin. Should only take me a few minutes to get enough chairs in the main room.” Freddie slips out from under the larger man’s arm and they start to move towards the front door of the cabin. Johnny and Daniel bound towards the main lodge the second they hear the inner door open. But before he gets too far out of earshot, the blonde hears the Sheriff mutter to James.

“You know, Kreese, I’m getting real tired of these changes in the plan…”

Chapter Text

As soon as the boys enter into the lodge, some of the closer tables and counselors look up from their meals, staring curiously. Johnny tries to think of something to say before he hears some teen whistle loudly, encouraging a few jeering laughs and quirky comments under breaths. He narrows his eyes at the noise, turning to the shorter boy next to him, watching him wipe the sweat from his mouth. A neuron fires in his brain and short-circuits somewhere inconveniently unhelpful.

They think… A fiery blush spreads quickly over his cheeks and ears, forcing him to duck his head and make his way towards the Counselor’s table in shame. As he slides into an empty chair, his blonde hair hanging low into his eyes, he sees Daniel raise his hands in confusion, trying to meet his eyes before he finds a chair to sit in.

After the room settles back into the usual level of noise and movement, Johnny feels his body relax a little, trying to flush the blood from his skin and calm his shaking hands. He glances down at them under the table, inhaling sharply as he swears that his skin is looking paler than usual, the blue tint stretching from his fingernails through his cuticles and resting just under the first knuckle.

The heavy doors open and Freddie enters, searching the tables before their eyes fall on the blonde at the other end of the room. With a bright smile, the nerdy man makes his way towards the table, stopping to let kids walk before him. He eventually makes it across the room with a large and awkward smile plastered on his face.

“Hey, John!” The blonde cringes at the name, but doesn’t want to draw extra attention.

“Hey, Freddie,” he tries to smile as the guy leans over the table, clearly not understanding boundaries and personal space, “What’s up?”

“Uh, well,” he starts with another bright smile, “We have a special event scheduled for your cabin and would love to invite you over to the Leadership cabin for an ol’ game I know.” Johnny nods and stands up, following the counselor towards the cabin 7 table.

“So this… ‘game,’” he leans in as the kids stand up from the table, leaving to drop off their trays and trash, “What is it exactly?”

Freddie just smiles and winks, “You’ll see! But it’s a great way to release stress and connect better with your fellow campers.” Once the kids are done, they lead the group towards the side doors, exiting outside towards the Leadership cabin. Johnny feels the brunette slip in next to him, bumping him on the shoulder lightly.

“Are you sure about this? Sounds like some crazy Truth or Dare game…” Daniel whispers in his ear. He shivers at the feeling of the other boy’s breath on his skin, igniting the stress and terror bubbling inside of him.

“Here,” he slides the tape out of his waistband and hands it behind his back, feeling Daniel take it and shove it under his shirt. “Just in case they try to search me or something.”

“Wait! What about me?” the brunette hisses, hurrying after the taller blonde as they reach the cabin they just broke out of.

–

Walking into the Leadership cabin again, Johnny sees that the overhead light in the living room is on; the stark white walls more pale and empty as the light bounces off of them. The coffee table and scattered belongings have been moved out of the room, leaving room for a singular wooden stool surrounded by the green couches and metal folding chairs.

And standing behind the bar counter in the kitchenette, Johnny immediately clocks the perturbed Sheriff Donovan and curious Deputy Stoker, standing next to Counselor Cynthia, a warm smile on her dark lips, and Counselor Liam, the nursing assistant.

Freddie gestures widely to the furniture, coaxing the nine young campers and Daniel to sit. Before Johnny can sit down next to the brunette, the front door closes heavily behind him; James Kreese standing in front of it like one of those over-the-top bodyguards in an action film. The blonde swallows and turns back to the couch, sitting down quickly, suddenly feeling very small and claustrophobic.

“Hi, everyone,” Freddie smiles warmly and turns slowly around the room, “As you all know, my name is Counselor Freddie, and I’d like to welcome you all to a very special exercise that we like to call ‘The Game.’ But before we get started, I’d like to share a little of my story and how I came to be here at Camp Elsinore, or Camp Hope, as I lovingly like to call it.”

The nerdy counselor removes their bucket hat and brushes their hair with the palm of their hand before sitting down on the stool.

“My life was not easy, especially when I was your age,” Freddie smiles to some of the kids, “And so, growing up, I made a lot of…misguided friends, and I did a lot of…misguided things when I was a teen. I stole, I smoked, I drank, and I did heroin whenever I could get my hands on it.” They pause, taking a deep breath, trying to loosen their throat and chest.

“At a point, I had no one. No hope. But someone else must have, because some stranger marched me into rehab and got me the help I needed. And I’ll admit, it wasn’t easy. The man running the program wanted us to quit the second we walked through the door, and after doing drugs for so long, I thought my body was on fire some nights. But this man trusted me to push through and to throw away drugs from my life, to start a better life.” Freddie twists their hat in their hands slowly, smiling to themself.

“And as the fog cleared from my mind, and the drugs made their way through my body, I made a friend in the group. He was also dealing with his own addiction and our struggles were similar, so we leaned on each other for support through the darker nights. But we weren’t alone.”

Freddie stands from the stool and circles slowly, now talking to everyone directly.

“The man who ran the program had this ‘Game’ for all of the new members who were able to get through the first week or so of withdrawals and isolation. In the Game, one lucky person is chosen to sit in the middle of a circle of all of their friends and enemies and maybe future loved ones, and we talk about them. Anything that person may have said to hurt someone’s feelings, or any bad thing or sin that they did, we’d talk about it. We’d yell, scream, cry, until everyone got everything off of their chest about this person.”

“And once it was all out in the open, there were no more bad words, no more judgments, no more secrets that people could hold onto. And so, the lucky person who got to listen to everyone talk, was able to feel more connected to the people around them. And in doing this, it cleared the path to that better life with new friends and companions. It gave them hope.”

Freddie slowly turns to the blonde on the couch, gesturing to the stool in the center of the room.

“John,” the smaller man reaches a hand to help Johnny stand up, “We’d like you to play the Game.” Cynthia and Liam step out of the kitchenette and walk towards the stool, standing behind it with soft smiles on their faces. Johnny’s heart stammers uneasily, as Freddie lightly pushes him towards the seat in the center of the room. He takes a small breath before turning around and sitting on the hard surface, feeling Cynthia pet his hair softly.

“Happy birthday, pretty boy,” she whispers against his ear, sending shivers and goosebumps along his arms and legs. He swallows the need to bolt from the room and turns his head slightly, pulling on a somewhat cocky smile for show. She smiles back, stepping away from the stool. Liam pats his shoulder before retreating, as well.

“I’d like everyone to stand up now,” Freddie raises their hands in an upward sweeping motion, “And let’s just rotate around the room and when you’re in front of Counselor John, say whatever you want to get off your chest, okay?” The kids awkwardly pick at their clothes or kick their feet, not fully wanting to make eye contact with the two counselors in the center of the room.

“Here, I’ll start!” Freddie stands straight in front of Johnny, their cartoonish smile falling as their demeanor grows cold and serious. “The entire time you’ve been here, you haven’t once done something to better yourself. You’re clearly not confident in yourself and only do what you’re told, when you’re told.” Not confident? Please, you’re one to talk. The counselor then steps backwards between James and a camper, shifting the circle to the right.

The girl with the frizzy red hair steps forward hesitantly, playing with a scrunchie on her wrist. “Uh, you’re sometimes mean-”

“It’s okay to say it like you mean it!” Freddie pumps a fist in the air, trying to encourage the little girl, “This is the place to say anything any way you want. Use bad words, if it helps to get it off your chest. There’s no judgment or consequences here.” The girl shyly looks towards the blonde before looking around the room. She steps forward again.

“You’re mean and you think you’re so cool, but you’re not.” She steps back quickly, her face a little more pink than when she sat on the couch. Says the middle-schooler who probably has no idea what ‘cool’ even means. The circle rotates again and the bowl cut girl steps forward.

“I hate how annoying you are, especially in the mornings when you wake us up loudly.” The circle rotates and Timmy with the camcorder steps forward.

“You’re a bully and no one likes you!” The nerd says loudly, his arms held tightly at his sides. Just wait until high school, buddy… Again, the circle rotates. Cynthia steps forward with a smirk.

“You’re all looks and no brains.” Ouch, but I’ll take it, I guess.

“You don’t care about us and I’m jealous of my friend who has a funner counselor!” Good for them.

“Worst part of my summer break is having to deal with you.” Back at ya, kid.

The circle keeps rotating, a never-ending barrage of ridiculous insults and sing-song taunts by the kids he’s supposed to look after and protect, ambiguous judgments and biting critiques by his so-called coworkers and ‘guardian.’ Johnny grits his teeth and rolls his shoulders, waiting until the stupid exercise is done so he can leave.

But when it reaches Daniel, his mind reaches out, clutching the gears on this twisted carousel, eager for a hand to help him off the ride. He feels his face softening, his jaw relaxing as the brunette steps forward. Daniel keeps his hands behind his back, probably to make sure no one sees the tape. He lifts his dark brown eyes to Johnny’s blues and his eyebrows furrow.

“After that night, I-I feel different, ya know? Like, I’m seeing someone else. Someone… lonely,” Daniel bites his bottom lip sadly. “Do you even have friends?”

Y-yes, I have friends. What about you, Lartyudcfso?
Where are they?
They- they’re at home probably, stuck in Encino. Probably stuck working summer jobs in the Valley heat. Stuck without Cobra Kai.
Are you stuck?
What? No! I mean, yes. Yes, I’m stuck here. Stuck at this stupid camp with these stupid people doing stupid activities.
Do you want to be free?

The shorter boy steps back and before Freddie can speak, James Kreese steps forward, his long legs driving him closer to the blonde. He stares down for a moment in silence, the hard lines on his face drawing Johnny’s attention to him. Like he’s staring down the cold, hard dark barrel of a gun. Leaning in closer, the man breathes, his ire simmering in those hard lines.

“I have yet to see you prove yourself as anything more than a burden. Right now, you’re nothing.”

“You’re nothing! You lost. You’re a loser!”

Tears prick the corners of Johnny’s eyes, as James Kreese’s face morphs into that of his brother’s: John Kreese. His teacher, his sensei. The man he’s looked up to for so long. The man who was always standing behind him at tournaments. The man who is no longer here. The man who left him.

Do you need him? Do you need someone like him?
…Yes.

At some point, the larger man steps backwards and the circle starts rotating again. Now, it’s fun to raise your voice, to point, to curse, to yell and scream. The thick tears run down the blonde’s cheeks as the faces around him blur and swirl and lunge for him, faces and hands move closer and closer. The walls, too, slide inward from their old frames, the white paint stark and suffocating.

He tries to stare down at the green carpet, but at some point, thick weeds have sprouted from the yarn, tearing through the mesh netting like torn skin. The front door remains closed behind Kreese, but the older man doesn’t seem to notice the dark puddle of water leaking under the door, spreading through the weeds. Johnny tries to lift his feet from the floor, placing them on the bottom rung of the stool, but the water keeps rising and the weeds start to grow thick around his ankles.

He tries to look up, tries to tell someone about the water and the dirt and the weeds, but he can’t break through the voices. They all merge together, a cacophony of disgusted screams and bitter dismal words; their faces stretch and squeeze, the features sinking back under the skin until there are no faces. Just mouths. Mouths with sharp teeth and forked tongues.

He feels hands pull roughly at his hair, tug freely at his clothes, and painfully squeeze his ears and hands. He sees the dark shadows of the Sheriff and Deputy step forward, looming over the small blonde boy in the spotlight.

“Did you see them?”
“Did you know that they broke into private property?”
“Did you care enough about them to make sure they got back to their cabin safely?”
“Did you even try to learn their names?”

Question after question, Johnny tries to answer. He feels the words on his tongue but can’t think them. He can’t feel them. The faceless faces are still screaming and he can’t think. He can’t focus. The shadow outside of the window watches him, its shining eyes watching everything he does and says. He can’t breathe.

“You really scared me.”

His eyes focus past the hot tears, watching as a nose stretches from the tan skin above the dangerous mouth, eyes bubbling on the surface like blisters. Dark brown hair crawls out of the scalp and hangs loosely by the face’s ears, a familiar Jersey accent lingering on the wicked tongue.

“I know now that you’d never d-do anythin’, ya know, to really hurt me,” Daniel whispers, dark eyes wet with unbroken tears, “But you really scared me.”

Johnny tries to take in a breath, a sob caught in his throat. I’m scared of myself, too.

A sharp and loud clapping cuts through the small room as Freddie smiles and claps towards everyone. Soon, everyone is clapping around the blonde, their faces breaking through the thin layers of skin. Freddie says something, pulling the trembling blonde to his feet, not caring if the stool falls behind him.

His knees threaten to give out, the heat and sound and light of the room too suffocatingly loud. James steps from the door, crossing the room towards the back, leaving the pale wooden door unsecured. The need to disappear keeps Johnny standing, shirking away from Freddie’s thin spindly fingers on his shoulder and arm. With a panicked breath, the blonde bolts for the door, swinging it open and racing through the sunroom and outside.

He runs towards the parking lot south of the main lodge, desperately searching for the familiar light blue car with the replaced window. He stumbles around the few cars sitting under the lamplight, before falling to his knees on the rough gravel, sobbing. He wraps his arms around his chest and leans his head down against the rocks.

Alone.

Johnny grits his teeth, feeling the word hide behind his teeth, sneak through his nervous system, and seep into every cell in his body. He squeezes his eyes tightly, the spinning wheel of words echoing in his head, making him feel nauseous and sick.

Maybe I deserve this… Another tear pushes through his lashes and falls onto the dirt under him.

And what is ‘this?’
Chest pain, headache, running nose, secretion of water from ducts behind eyes-
Pain.
Pain?
Pain and hurt and hate and fear and…and loneliness.
Tell me, what do you truly deserve?

He unravels his arms and pushes himself up from the gravel, feeling small rocks and dirt cling to his clammy skin. A large shadow passes overhead, its tendrils slinking over the roof of a car until it bleeds into the shadow of a tree. Johnny ignores the wet shapes around him, his body moving in autopilot towards the paved path.

He walks, one foot in front of the other, his shoes softly padding along the dark river cutting through the campsite. His shadow stretches in a painful spread as he crosses under the tall lamps, their orangey-yellow light falling around him like a radiant fire. He sinks back into the darkness as he passes cabin 5B, its shadowy grasp a welcoming veil of obscurity and safety. He feels his legs burn and his lungs scream for air as the hill continues at a steeper incline, but he can’t shut off the autopilot. Not now. Now until he’s safe.

His feet bring him to the cabin at the top of the hill, floating briefly as they lift themselves over the steps to the front door. Before he can turn the knob, pressing with minimal effort to wedge the door from its weathered frame, the door swings open. Easily, soundlessly. Just opens.

The brunette stands there in the doorway, staring back with wide, worried eyes. Carelessly, effortlessly, breathlessly… him. And he stole everything.

With a strangled cry clawing its way through his raw throat, the blonde lunges towards the other boy, swinging a hook punch towards his face. Daniel throws his hands up just in time to protect his face, stepping backwards into the cabin to dodge the hit. Johnny forces him back more, aiming a jab with his other arm towards the shorter boy’s stomach. Again, Daniel swings his arms down and steps out of the way.

“Johnny, what the hell, man?!” Daniel cries out fearfully, stepping to the side to dodge another backhanded throw. “Look, we can talk this through, okay?” Johnny bumps into an empty bunk, noticing for the first time that the other campers aren’t in the cabin.

Alone.

His chest burns with a strange emptiness, comforting and punishing, as hot tears well behind his pained red eyes again, hopelessly blurring his vision of the only other person with him.

“...Johnny?” That damn Jersey accent.

The blonde reaches forward, past Daniel’s defensive stance, and shoves the brunette into a nearby stretch of panelled wall, pinning the shorter boy by the shoulders. Probably expecting another punch, Daniel just hits the wall with an ‘oof’ and blinks back at the taller boy. His large brown eyes are scared…worried…pitying. With a tearful scowl, Johnny leans in and captures that annoying mouth, feeling his lips press hard into the soft gasping flesh. He holds the other boy still for a moment, feeling the warmth of breath against his skin. Before another sob can escape through his throat, he pulls away with a shaky inhale. He tries to glare down at the boy, but his body feels numb, empty.

Daniel leans his head back slightly, resting it on the hard wall behind him. He keeps his eyes on the blonde, his expression full of shock and worry and something else the blonde can’t read.

“This,” Johnny whispers morosely, “This is what I deserve.” He shoves himself away from Daniel and walks quietly towards his bunk, lifting the mattress and grabbing the bottle of remaining amber liquid. Without another glance, Johnny makes his way to the patio in the back, slamming the door behind him.

Chapter Text

The only remains of summer heat lay across Johnny cheeks as the night chills his limbs, pale and long, curled around him in the rickety plastic chair. He leans over the plastic table in front of him, his head in his hands, fingers tangled tightly in his blonde hair. He feels his fingers twitch against his scalp, tugging painfully at the roots. One of his legs won’t stop shaking and he lets it bounce rapidly against the rough edge of the chair. The bottle sits on the table, close to his elbow, like a stalwart companion drinking all of his silence.

The liquor burns warmly on his tongue and the amber scent lingers under his nose, but he can’t stop feeling the throbbing ghost of trembling skin on his bruised lips. He squeezes his eyes shut, pulling at his hair again as another breeze sends a shiver through his thin t-shirt and shorts.

Eventually he hears the campers come back, their loud and boisterous voices talking and laughing and joking with each other. A small part of him hopes that one of them, anyone, asks where he is and how he’s doing. But he can’t hear the conversations clearly and the alcohol is starting to make his head feel fuzzy, making the effort not worth it.

Or maybe he’s not worth it. No mercy, right?

He untangles a hand, grabbing the cool bottle around the neck. He spins it slowly on the table, his discolored fingers grazing the glass with each rotation. He imagines his fingers pressing against his own neck, circling his skin like a lonely ballerina broken from some antique music box.

The dancer spins, her legs twisted into one limb as he ducks under his jaw. Her arms raise and dip low, a long and fluid grazing against his hairline at the base of his neck. As she comes around the other side of his head, her face has cracked, the venomous fangs breaking through the porcelain. He smiles wryly, spinning the bottle faster in between his fingers.

The shadows of the cabin roof and the distant trees all watch and applaud the dance, the dampness of the night air over the lake salivating from the treeline, anxious to see the snake feed. The yellow light spilling from the windows swing like erratic spotlights, desperately trying to capture the spectacle in its grasp. The pressure on his collarbone deepens, coiling around his throat, and he takes a sharp breath, gasping as he feels the tension behind his eyes again.

Before the bottle can topple over, quickly spinning from side to side on its corners, the white noise of voices and echoes dies down and the sickly lights turn off, leaving Johnny in a darker dark, an abandoned stage of misery and regret. He numbly welcomes it.

The blonde sits in that chair, shivering, as the whisky continues to burn and warm his lungs. At some point, his bottle companion is empty, its sweet and bitter words carried away on a pine-scented breeze. He stands clumsily, stretching his long limbs now stiff with cold and nothingness. Taking a few steps towards the door, he chuckles to himself, seeing the squarish scratch marks under the window, remembering something about a gnome trying to break in. That’s stupid, he thinks as he pushes the back door open as quietly as he can. It sticks a little, causing a nearby kid to roll over in their bunk, but at least it’s still unlocked.

He heads inside, closing the door behind him with a wince as it squeaks. The blonde trails his cold hand along the side of the bunks, tiredly following the map of the floor in his mind as he slowly makes his way towards his bunk in the corner. Reaching under his bunk, he blindly grabs his sweatpants and jacket, the warmth of the cabin causing his cold skin to shiver again. Changing as quietly as he can, he pulls his clothes on, only stumbling once against his bed post, before he creeps into his sleeping bag.

He rolls his head against his pillow, looking at the dark shadow of Daniel’s back before he rolls over with a sigh, shortly passing out once he closes his eyes.

–

Johnny walks down the wooded path, the cool afternoon sun filtering through the wide green leaves overhead and scattering colored lights, dancing over the loose leaves and twigs under his feet. His Walkman is comfortably snug in his jacket pocket, the melody of Dio’s ‘Rainbow in the Dark’ pounding through his headphones as he strolls along.

“There’s no sign of morning coming
You’ve been left on your own
Like a rainbow in the dark
A rainbow in the dark.”

A reedy whistle cuts through the music and he lifts his head, seeing the small silhouette of Daniel wave to him further down the trail. The boy whistles again and turns, running ahead. He rolls his eyes and quickens his pace, jogging after the boy. The chorus plays again, the drums now matching his pace.

“There’s no sign of morning coming
You’ve been left on your own
Like a rainbow in the dark
A rainbow in the-

Come one, come all to Elsinore lAke!
Make all of your family memories here-”

He slows to a stop, pulling his Walkman from the pocket with a confused frown. The tape whirls through the plastic cartridge rhythmically and normally. He pauses it, a deafening silence in his ears, before pushing the play button.

“-aT elsinore lake wiTh canoe rentals,
beautiful Hiking trails, and all-you-can-Eat trout dinners at patsy’s diner.
And don’t Forget about-”

The blonde hears another whistle calling for him, so he shakes his head and lets the strange radio ad play out, figuring his music would continue after the ad. He starts to jog ahead, his bare feet leaving the trail and pressing into the detritus of the cool forest floor, kicking up dried fallen leaves lightly behind him.

“-our FrIday FiSH Frys…every friday!
So good, you’ll wanna stay all summer!”

The ad finishes with a bell-like tone, drifting from his headphones and out into the mountain air. The bell’s toll echoes, growing distant before it returns to the blonde, the droning louder and closer. Calling him.

He stops again, looking through the large oaks and pines around him, searching for any recognizable markers or signs for the campgrounds. Surely, he must be right behind the main lodge for how loud the bell is ringing…

He spins around, the sun glaring in his eyes from behind a thin branch. He squints and barely sees Daniel run off, his white gi bright against the browns and greens of the forest life.

Calling out for the shorter boy, he takes off after him, pushing his long legs faster. He feels his heart quicken, the headphones muffling his voice and the sounds of his breathing.

Johnny leaps over a small fallen tree, before he freezes, stumbling as he lands. He turns back slowly, his eyes falling on the dark bark hidden under the leaves. As he steps closer, he takes in the twisted branches, pale and crooked like frozen fingers, bent and grasping. His eyes trail along the dark trunk, white stripes like ribs stretching across, and a pale spine-like crack travelling down to its dark roots. Stepping closer, he spots a sneaker tangled in the roots, followed by another slightly under it. As he turns his head back to the top of the fallen tree, it shivers and shakes. It breathes. Its ribs expanding and lifting from the ground, the spine dips down, forcing a pale spot of bark up and unsheathed from the dirt. His mouth falls open, watching silently as the tree bends and twists, its skeletal limbs unfolding under it. Frozen in place, he keeps watching as that pale spot swivels slowly, bark chipping away as it moves, now facing him. A pale white face with painted black eyes, closed and listening.

“You couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you, little twerp?”

A static voice whispers through his headphones, his voice. He steps backwards quietly, one foot slowly then the other, watching as the monstrous wooded skeleton twitches its head to the side, following the sound of his feet shuffling. A crack breaks through the pale bark, the soft layers of dark wood peeling and curling away like painted teeth.

“An enemy deserves no mercy!”

His crackling voice yells through the headphones. The head twitches directly towards him and in a blink of an eye, runs at him. Thick branches and roots claw at the dark ground, moving quickly behind him as the blonde finally moves, running as fast as he can. He can still hear the droning bell, tolling and tolling near and far, loud and quiet. A flash of bright white cuts in front of him, dashing between a cluster of trees to the left. He turns quickly, almost slipping on the now wet leaves under his feet.

He follows after Daniel, glimpses of white blinking from behind darkening trees. His bare feet slip and falter as the ground grows slippery, a slimy and viscous ichor sliding between his toes and coating his feet. No matter how fast he’s pushing his legs, he still can’t catch up to the other boy.

But the monster is catching up to him.

Scared to look over his shoulder, Johnny feels the tremble of the earth under his feet, large stomps causing the ground to crack and dip under him. Knowing he won’t be able to keep outrunning the creature, he spots a ridge ahead of him, slightly hidden by thick brush. Without a second’s thought, he yanks his weight towards it, tumbling and rolling over the ridge and into the small pocket of earth-packed roots and shrubs.

He holds his breath, as the lumbering monster continues ahead, chasing after its prey.

“Accidents happen.” His snarky voice whispers through his headphones. Before Johnny can tug them off of his head, the dirt shifts under him suddenly, sending him careening down a tunnel underground. The summer sunlight quickly blinks away as the dirt and roots and rocks surround him, pulling him deeper into the dark.

“There’s no sign of morning coming
You’ve been left on your own
Like a-”

The tape in his Walkman stutters through the chorus again, stopping only when he lands roughly on his stomach at the bottom. The blonde brushes the dirt from his face, trying to get it out of his eyes as he blinks around. A pallid light glows overhead, illuminating the tunnel in one stark spot. He stands before looking down at his feet, covered in a dark green, blackish goo. He tries to wipe them off, but the slime sticks to his hand and flings itself back onto his foot and ankle, rising higher up his leg.

Thud.

His head jolts up as he sees a pale flash cut from one side of the tunnel to the other, further in. Daniel? He calls out, but he can only hear his heartbeat stuck in his eardrums. Stepping forward, he places his hand along the cool earthen wall, ducking his head as the tunnel grows shorter in height. The empty light falling behind him soon disappears as he takes a left turn, following after Daniel into the darkness.

Johnny keeps his hand on the wall as the tunnel twists and turns, feeling the soil smooth and slide under his fingers. Wavy shapes emerge and his fingers linger over them, trying to make out what they may be. Eventually, he has to crawl on his hands and knees, the tunnel now only a few feet high. As he checks the wall again, trailing his fingers against the smooth curve, it gasps under his touch.

Freezing, he turns his head as far as he can, squinting at the dark wall next to him. He traces his fingers along it, hearing a breath exhale. Closing his eyes, he ignores the sounds, trying to picture what he’s feeling. As his thumb brushes over something thin and hairy, his eyes shoot open.

It’s a face.

Quickly pulling his hand away, he shuffles forward, now feeling the angles and curves of many faces around him. Breathing and gasping and struggling to scream. The tighter the tunnel gets, the more he feels the faces, their hard lines and rubber-like skin stretching as he crawls over them. He feels a nose press hard against his shoulder as he stretches an arm forward between two foreheads. He pushes against them before he realizes that he’s still by the same faces. He’s stuck.

Pushing and pushing, he feels their cold dry lips against his arms, their brows against his back and their eyelids against his knees. Johnny tries to call out for Daniel, call out for help, but the faces all gasp and inhale and exhale around him.

“Do you have a problem with that?” The face pressed directly by his shoulder whispers in his ear. Johnny doesn’t have to see to know that the face is squarish, hard and angular. He doesn’t have to imagine the color of those eyes sitting just under the cool, rubbery eyelids. He swallows, his heart skipping a beat.

“...No sensei,” he whispers, the dark growing colder and tighter around him. A long, spindly hand wraps its clawed and webbed fingers around his ankle. And pulls.

It pulls and drags him down the tunnel quickly; the faces morphing into crumbling soil and sand until he’s lying on his stomach in that pale light again.

He quickly pulls his legs under him and sits up, wincing in the light as he kneels in the cold sand. An icy breeze cuts through him, bringing a voice. Not his voice.

~do y~ou fEar pain, ch~ild? loneli~ness? deAt~h?

Johnny gets to his feet, turning to the shorter figure standing by the shore. His white gi almost blinding against the dark trees behind him and the silent waters in front of him.

‘Yes.’

~goo~d. ~it keeps you aliv~e, helps you g~row sTro~nger.

He steps forward, walking over small fragments of driftwood and clumps of long grass tethered in the rocky sand, keeping his eyes on the brunette’s back.

‘I don’t feel stronger. I feel like I’m getting weaker and weaker.’

Daniel turns his head a fraction, his dark eyes catching in the pale moonlight and glinting. Before Johnny can move closer, a young deer suddenly jumps from the treeline, skittering in the sand before him. He scrambles backwards, barely in time before a mountain lion breaks through the darkness, pouncing with a viciousness onto the deer’s back. With sturdy claws, and strong limbs, the lion forces the animal down into the sand, its fangs and claws tearing into the soft flesh of its neck. With a ‘snap’, its jaws break the deer’s neck and the young animal goes limp. The lion shifts its bite, before dragging the body away, a trailing puddle of dark blood seeping into the sand. Johnny lifts his head in fear to Daniel, the boy standing in the same position, unbothered by the violence.

~i ha~ve wiTnessed de~ath, over and o~ver. consumed life an~d grew str~onger for it. ~in deatH, on~e must fi~nd weakne~ss, to ovErcome it. ~to control it.

Johnny pulls his gaze away, looking in the direction of the lion, but the trail of blood stops. As he focuses on it, the blood seeps quicker into the sand, disappearing from view.

~do yo~u Fear control~?

He turns back to the brunette, shaking his head in disbelief. Daniel’s head turns slightly more, his gaze piercing through his chest.

‘I- I don’t know. I thought I understood it, had mastered it, but now… I don’t think I ever really had it. I think everyone else around me had it, but I was too- I was too afraid to accept it.’

~do you t~hink yo~u’re in ~control?

He swallows and his eyes fall to his feet, the ichor now stretching up to his knees. In between strands of inky black goo, he sees that his feet are pink and purple in some areas, bone white in others. Bone. It’s eating me alive.

‘…No.’

~good.

Daniel smiles softly before walking further along the shore, past the waves breaking over the rocks and sand. Johnny hurries forward, wanting to grab him, but something about the water stops him. In the pale moonlight, Daniel walks deeper and deeper into the water, the white fabric floating around him, turning red. The once still water ripples, sending red waves back towards the shore, back towards Johnny’s feet.

~i’ve seen cre~atures try to control theIr li~ves, control othe~rs. it was their undo~ing. but to s~hare that ~control… to t~ruly share pow~er and life wit~h otherS… that is a str~ength i can give~ you. ~to take all ~of the resp~onsibilities and burdens you cre~atures suffer, and to shar~e them wi~th others. ~would you like th~at, joHnny lawrence? ~to be free of control a~nd lonelin~ess and pain~?

Daniel stops, the water now at his chest. He turns slowly, his skin glittering and glowing in the captured moonlight. The radiant light blooms past his skin, past the fabric hanging loosely around his body. A being unworthy of any word other than perfect looks onto him.

Without realizing it, the fear and hurt and hunger and pain all make themselves known in his body, the burdens of his life. He feels tears roll down his cheeks silently, the salt lingering on his lips as he opens his mouth.

‘Yes.’

The being raises a hand out towards him, calling him into the water.

~embrace me, child. g~ive your mind a~nd body to me~ and let me wash a~way your control.

‘Who are you?’ the blonde asks as he steps his aching feet into the icy water, feeling the silt and sand dip lower and lower under him. He walks slowly, the ripples of blood red water skating away from his legs and hips as he sinks lower.

~you may c~all me khagar’zax. an~gel of ambitio~n and tran~sformation.

He stops before the glowing figure, the water much higher than he thought, now resting against his jaw as he stares up at its radiance.

‘An angel?’

~you~r frien~d.

The being lifts its perfect hand to Johnny, letting him take hold. His trembling fingers hum softly, gently falling asleep in its grasp. With its other arm, Khagar’zax pulls Johnny closer, into that of a hug, letting the blonde’s head fully submerge into the lake.

The boy gasps, forgetting to take a breath, but discovering that he doesn’t need one. He doesn’t need to breathe.

Fully able to see underwater, like in a lighted pool back in Encino, he places his head softly against the angel’s chest and watches the water move around him. With a curious eye, he spots a fish floating by, its body bloated and its eyes missing. A squirrel swims by, its leg crushed and innards trailing behind. A pale arm skims the lake bed, grey and rotting, dangling softly from a half-eaten ribcage caught in the seaweed.

A gentle hand presses against his jaw and he acquiesces, opening his mouth. The blood-filled water fills his mouth, then his throat, then his lungs.

–

Johnny comes to with a shiver, finding what feels like rough sand under his palms and feet. He tries to take in a breath, but feels his lungs and throat burn as he starts choking, coughing up water.

Once he can finally breathe, he pushes himself up onto his hands and knees, noticing the sweatpants and his Cobra Kai jacket he went to bed in are now soaked and muddy for some reason. He blinks away water from his eyes, panicking as he takes in the empty shore by the lake.

It’s still dark out, but thin rays of morning light seem to be peeking from behind the eastern trees. He remembers watching the tape, playing the stupid Game, kissing stupid Larnfhjso, and then heading to bed. So why am I outside??

Johnny stumbles to his feet, thankful that he’s freezing so he can’t feel the rough rocks and twigs and whatever else he’s walking on. He zips up his soaking wet jacket, wrapping his trembling arms around his torso, as he slowly makes his way back to the cabin, terrified of what may have happened.

Chapter Text

By the time Johnny makes it back to the cabin, the morning’s first rays are stretching over the campground, everything covered in a sleepy dew and grey shadows. He stumbles up the wooden steps, barely noticing that the front door is slightly ajar, as he pushes it open quietly. He closes it behind him, leaning against it in his now damp clothes and wet bare feet.

Exhausted but too scared and wired to sleep again, the blonde decides to take a shower, grabbing whatever clothes he tossed on the floor last night before shuffling towards the bathroom.

Peeling the cold slick jacket from his skin, he trembles, immediately twisting the faucet and letting the shower steam up. He pulls the icy damp sweatpants and underwear from his legs, his limbs still stiff and shivering. Without looking closely at his scraped and dirty feet, he steps under the hot water, letting it rain over his shoulders and scald his back before he adjusts the temperature.

Johnny stands under the warm water for a time, trying to remember anything from last night that could have led to him being outside. Being by the lake. Or, rather, in the lake? He closes his eyes and sighs, the water falling rhythmically over his eyelids and cheeks like a siren, lulling him into a calm away from the devastating thoughts of drowning alone.

Blindly reaching for the shampoo, he squeezes some into his hands, lathering it between his fingers before running it through his long wet hair. His long fingernails scratch softly at his scalp, easing the hair up from the roots to the ends in small circles. He sighs again, the small movements releasing some of the tension in his mind. He leans his head back under the water, running his fingers through the now clean locks of hair. His fingers slide from his forehead to the back of his skull, following the strands smoothly. As he rests his hands on the sides of his neck, he feels a strange bump, rough yet slippery. Thinking it’s a leaf or some type of dirt stuck to his skin, he rubs at it, letting his nails scratch its edges.

With a wince, he rubs another finger over the ridge of skin, following it down his throat and he tugs. Ow. He presses his finger under the ridge and feels it sink deeper, a hole of some kind. His heart stops, focusing only on the strange wound on and in his throat. He runs a finger along the ridge on the other side of his neck, finding the hole, and… feeling the barest of air exhaling.

The blonde quickly pulls his hands away, overcome with fear and disgust and worry. A roughness brushes against his elbow and he glances down at his torso, watching as the water bounces off of his ribs and trails down the cracked and broken layers of skin in between. Discolored like his fingers, the layers flare slightly with a bluish green sheen, like that of a lizard or fish. Scales??

He rubs at his skin, hoping they’re just some concoction of a prank and leftover Halloween costume pieces, but the more he rubs and scratches at his skin, the more red lines streak across his torso, angry and irritated.

Without a conscious thought, he hurriedly twists the faucet off, running and almost slipping, as he grabs a towel and wraps it around his waist. He rushes to the mirror just outside of the bathroom, lit from behind as the morning light drifts in through the gauzy windows.

The lanky boy takes in his shadowed reflection, the heat slightly foggy the mirror as he leans in closer. He spots the dark blue outline of cuts or slats or… gills on either side of his neck, and the curved layers of pale and sickly blue-green scales trailing down his ribs from under his shoulder blades.

He twists his head side to side, watching in terror as the scales and gills stretch and breath along his raised skin. As he rotates his head, tilting his jaw up a little, a cold discovery makes him freeze.

He lifts his eyes up to their reflected twins, inhaling sharply as he makes eye contact with himself. This close to the mirror, standing in the shadow of the room, he can tell his eyes are extremely dilated, finding no bright ring of blue that he usually sees. As he slowly swallows, tilting his head an inch to the side, his eyes shine in the darkness, covered in a pale sheen. His first thought is of a cat’s green eyes glowing in the night, but with a deeply uncomfortable horror, he remembers a picture in one of his old science textbooks. A dark and vibrant picture with the same large silvery eyes staring back at him, belonging to that of a deep sea fish.

Johnny pushes roughly away from the sink, away from the mirror, away from himself. With a shaky breath, he pads back into the showers, quickly pulling his old clothes over the abnormalities, hiding them away. He grabs his damp and dirtied clothes and hurries back to his bunk, tossing them under his bunk, before slipping quickly into his chilly sleeping bag. He feels his heart stammering in his chest, his breath quick against his teeth.

Covering his head, he finds his Walkman in the bag, pulling it over his ears and pressing play with shaking hands. His rapid breath makes his head swim, the lyrics and guitar solos of Dio’s ‘Rainbow in the Dark’ warbling with dizziness. But he clamps his hands over the headphones and presses them closer to his head, panicking and listening to his music, until he feels movement around him as the other campers start to wake up.

–

Johnny tries to stay in bed for as long as he can, his tape long since over. At one point, he swears he hears the Jersey boy call his name softly, trying to wake him up. But he pretends to keep sleeping, and the movements around the cabin continue until the morning bell echoes outside.

He hears the kids congregate by the door, whispering, before Daniel ushers them out of the cabin, the door squeaking shut behind them. He listens to their fading voices, exhaling a sigh of relief before removing the flap of his sleeping bag and blanket from his head. He pulls the headphones from his ears, staring at his long discolored fingers holding onto the thin plastic band. They don’t seem to be trembling anymore.

With a tentative hand, he brings his fingers to his neck. He squeezes his eyes shut, a wave of surreal and hysterical distress overtaking him as he traces the ragged shapes along his neck. He gasps, a sob threatening to escape. W-what is going on with me? What happened last night? What the fuck is t-this??

Breathing slowly, he tries to slow his heart rate and clear his head. He needs to be logical about this or he’ll go insane. Clearly something is wrong with me. Maybe someone might know something… But who?

Johnny sits up, looking around to make sure no one stayed in the cabin before he stands. He grabs some clean clothes from his bag, a tank top and shorts before grabbing the extra cropped hoodie he packed. He crosses the cabin towards the bathrooms, not wanting to change out in the open where someone might see, but he pauses at the sink, catching his reflection. He reaches over and turns on the overhead light, blinking as the light momentarily blinds him. He lifts his shirt, taking in the scaly growths along his ribs, noticing that they’re paler than he remembers. Almost translucent. Twisting his head slightly, he checks the openings on his neck, only really seeing pale blue lines where the ridges separate. He exhales heavily, thankful that they’re not as noticeable, and almost hopeful that maybe they may disappear with a little more time. Lastly, he checks his eyes, recognizing the blue irises as his own. There’s still a strange sheen to them, like spilled oil, but at least he almost looks normal.

The blonde quickly changes in one of the stalls, making sure to pull the drawstring of the hood tightly around his neck. He grabs his whistle and sunglasses before heading out, feeling a little more in control.

The morning is breezy and calm; the chill still lingering to the ground while the warm rays peek through the trees around the campground, leaving scattered rays of green and yellow light and soft shadows dancing across everything. Johnny pushes his shoulders back and lifts his head, trying to fit a mask of lazy confidence over his tired limbs and weary mind. He pulls open one of the front doors, making his way quietly towards the kitchen window.

Eyes follow him, he knows that. He feels them. But he keeps walking, sidling up to the window where crazy Edna is starting to pack up food and clean her station. He clears his throat, softly getting her attention as she smiles brightly at him.

“Well, look at you, blue eyes,” she sets the pan down behind her and leans forward across the bins to look him over. He ignores the nagging feeling of being observed through a microscope, smiling back at her. “You’re looking better. Must’ve taken your medicine like a good boy, huh?” He tilts his head, pondering her words.

“What do you mean by that?” he asks as she looks around the cabinets, grabbing a plate and starting to load food onto it. She just smiles to herself, clicking a pair of tongs together, only turning back to him once she’s done. She places the plate in front of him on the counter.

“I’m glad you came to us, Johnny. Now go skedaddle and eat up,” she grins, staring directly into his eyes. He stares back for a second, looking into her aging green eyes with a strangely familial glance, before picking up the plate and heading towards the Counselor’s table.

As soon as he sits down, the chair next to his slides out and a friendly tanned hand reaches over and snatches a piece of bacon from his tray. Johnny protests but Manny just throws him a goofy smile as he bites into it.

“So,” the older boy says through bites, “Our cabins got a scavenger hunt this morning. Wanna make it more interesting?” As the blonde takes in Manny’s wolfish smile, he’s reminded of the missing persons report. Manny Lopez. Missing. Johnny nods his head slowly, not wanting to look too suspicious. He shovels some food in his mouth as a means to look away.

“Wh- what did you have in mind?” he asks, keeping his head turned towards his plate but staring out of the corner of his eye at the other boy from behind his dark sunglasses. Manny wipes his hand on his shorts and turns his body towards the younger boy, leaning over the table slightly.

“Let’s make it a competition,” he whispers conspiratorially, “Whichever cabin finishes the hunt first, wins.” Johnny hums, taking another bite. He looks down at his discolored fingers wrapped around the fork, steady and strong.

“And what would my team win?” the blonde asks, leaning slightly towards the older guy. Manny chuckles quietly, tapping his fingers on his chin in thought.

“Hmm…maybe I can bribe the kitchen staff to whip up something tasty for a late night party. But the losers-,” he grins slowly, turning his hazel eyes back towards the younger boy, “have to jump in the lake.” Johnny frowns.

“That’s not much of a punishment?” he asks, or rather, says with a questioning tone. Manny keeps grinning mischievously.

“At night,” he adds, wiggling his eyebrows. Johnny shakes his head, turning back to his food.

“Nuh uh, too dangerous.”

“O-oh, s-sorry,” Manny leans back, straightening up in a sudden burst of shy clarity, “I- I didn’t think I was talking to a chicken. Oh, silly me…. This must be the baby table-” The Hispanic boy looks around confused for a second before standing up from the table. Johnny sees James Kreese eyeing them from across the room and he rolls his eyes.

“Fine! Fine, the losing cabin has to jump in the lake tonight,” the blonde concedes, “Happy?” Manny stops and smirks, leaning over the lanky boy to steal his other piece of bacon.

“See you out there.”

Johnny bites his tongue, watching as the older guy walks away, a stupid perky bounce in his step. Manny Lopez. Missing. The blonde’s eyes drift to his cabin’s table, already knowing that a pair of dark brown eyes are on him. He meets Daniel’s stare from behind his sunglasses and tugs on the drawstring, tugging his hood closer to his neck.

–

“You don’t seem to be hungover,” the brunette whispers as they walk towards the intended location of their next clue: the archery area. Timmy hangs back a little, shoving his camcorder into bushes trying to find different types of lizards or whatever. The taller boy shrugs, trying to look as casual as he can.

“Maybe I can hold my liquor now,” he brushes off the worry flatly, hoping his sunglasses hide the embarrassing warmth spreading across his cheeks. Daniel crosses his arms with a pout, clearly not satisfied with the answer. But Johnny is even more off-guard by the fact that the other boy is even talking to him after… after what he did last night.

“Johnny, man, are we ever gonna talk truthfully?” the shorter boy leans in, “Like, about… us?”

The blonde tenses. The last time he uttered the word ‘us’ was when he drunk called Ali on her birthday. Since then, there hasn’t been an ‘us.’ It’s just been Johnny and the boys. Johnny and the Cobras. Johnny. He had almost forgotten that there could be another ‘us’ in his life, but he’d have to be a part of it. Was this really the ‘us’ he wanted to be a part of? The shorter boy stops in front of him, halting his steps as Timmy continues on without them.

“Let’s not play games, alright?” Daniel lifts his chin, trying to appear taller or something. “You kissed me.” Johnny clenches his jaw, trying to not look down at the other boy standing way too close.

“It-” he starts, suddenly feeling very vulnerable and weak, “I said what I said. Whatever you gotta say to me, I deserve it.”

Daniel shakes his head, frowning. The blonde can’t read his expression, not sure what he’s thinking. And it scares him.

“I- You don’t-”

“Hey guys…” Timmy’s voice cuts through the brunette’s words, distracting and pulling the blonde away as he lets out a breath of relief. Johnny hurries over to the nerd, finding him crouching behind one of the hay targets, pointing his camera into another bush.

“Find the ‘right’ arrow?” he asks, his eyes trailing from the green of the bush to the pale grey limb peeking out. Not believing what he sees, he pushes past Timmy’s kneeling form, reaching into the brush and pulling it back.

A shaved coppery head with oozing grey skin topples out of the bottom layer of the bush, dragging the stiff arm with it. Its eyes are eaten away, leaving sunken pits with dried scratches and cuts around them. Its nose and lips are chewed on, the once pink turning green and grey in decay.

There’s no denying it: this is Taylor. Annie Lennox.

Once the visuals burn themselves into his eyes, Johnny’s nose catches a whiff of decaying meat and water-logged blood and grime, forcing him to fall away from the brush with a gag.

“Johnny?”

He hears Newark call out to him with worry, but his stomach can’t handle both breakfast and the decaying body of someone he knows. He vomits into a nearby bush, saliva dripping from his teeth and tongue.

“Hey- oh my god!” He hears Daniel exclaim behind him as he spits whatever remaining bile from his mouth. The blonde wipes his lips with the back of his hand, taking a slow breath to calm his stomach. He stands up, turning back around to the other two, watching as Timmy vomits into another bush while holding his camera out towards the rotting find. Daniel stands rigid, breathing through his mouth slowly, his normally tan face pale and greenish in the shade of the trees.

Johnny reaches slowly into the brush again, pulling loose branches away from the body. Some snag onto the torn and bloodied counselor shirt, while others break off easily against the cold heavy limbs caught in the shrub’s core.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be touchin’ i- them,” Daniel curses to himself, almost calling the body of someone they knew at camp ‘it.’ “We should go get Counselor Freddie or Counselor K-Kreese and one of the authorities.” The taller boy moved another branch, clearing the section over the clenched and discolored hand. There was something crumpled in its grasp.

“Look, no one’s stopping you from getting them, but they’re going to do the same thing I am: clear away the bush to get to the body,” he kneels down and tries to pry the fingers open, the icy stiffness of the hand way too strange and surreal to think about properly. “Either way, any evidence they try to get is going to be a waste. We’re all stuck up here until they clear the road, and there’s probably no lab or whatever for a few miles anyway.”

He hears the brunette huff in annoyance before he walks over to the younger boy, checking on him in between bouts of sickness. The blonde has difficulty loosening the fingers, but figures he could maybe use a stick or something to shove through the thumb and other fingers, hoping he can push out whatever was important enough to hold onto. He finds a decently thick but short stick, slowly pushing what appears to be folded and crumpled papers out of the hand. By the time they’re almost halfway out, he feels the shorter boy walk up and kneel beside him, holding up a branch that was digging into Johnny’s shoulder.

“Thanks,” the blonde says quietly after a moment, trying to focus on the task instead of the sun-warmed scent of shampoo lingering in the brunette’s hair. Daniel nods, keeping his eyes on Timmy, or really, anywhere not on the body.

“If I’m gonna be an accomplice, I may as well do something useful.” Johnny snorts.

“You, an accomplice?” the blonde sticks his tongue between his teeth as he carefully pulls more of the papers free, “One look at your scared baby doe eyes and they’ll think you were the one murdered.” The shorter boy turns his head towards the blond, deadpanned, before releasing the branch and letting it fall and smack Johnny in the back of the head.

“Hey!” the taller boy frowns, pulling out the last bit of the papers, “Be a better accomplice then.” He leans out of the bush and starts to unfold the pages, discovering that they’re printed black and white photocopies of IDs. He looks through them, recognizing the faces and names of the other counselors at camp.

Daniel leans over to look at them, as well, before looking off in the distance and standing up.

“Craig? What is that?” Johnny hears the Jersey boy ask as he walks over to the nerd, probably playing with some lizard or whatever. He keeps his eyes on the IDs, finding a page with a familiar curly haired guy. Manny Lopez. It definitely looks like Manny at first glance, but looking closer, there’s definitely something off. In the photo, his eyes look… different. He can’t explain why, maybe they’re a different shape or his eyelashes are shorter and lighter, but whatever the reason, this isn’t the same Manny.

“Johnny…” he hears his name called, softly. Unsure. The blonde looks up and over to where Timmy and Daniel are kneeling over something in another bush. Standing up, the boy walks over, quickly folding the papers and placing them in his pocket. He stops at the brunette’s side before kneeling down, confused and suddenly anxious.

Slightly buried under some loose dirt, a plastic ID card looks discarded. The face is unfamiliar, but as Johnny nudges it out of the dirt with a twig, the red smear across it is definitely familiar. He looks under the unearthed photo and his blood runs cold.

Betty Miller.

The counselor that was supposed to be cabin 7’s RA. The counselor who never made it to camp after saying she’d be arriving late. The counselor who was supposed to bunk above Johnny’s bed. The counselor who may or may not be alive anymore.

Chapter Text

After a stunned moment, Johnny picks up the bloodied ID, pocketing it with the papers. Daniel wants to protest but the blonde shakes his head, fixing both boys a serious look.

“No word about this,” he stands, brushing his hands off on his shorts, “We don’t want to freak anyone out. Let’s just go get one of the higher ups and show them to the b- Taylor.” The blonde notices Timmy’s camcorder in the boy’s hands, a small red light glowing on the front.

“And let’s keep the tape a secret for now, okay?”

“But why?” Daniel stands up, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Shouldn’t we give them all of the information? All of the evidence?” The taller boy steps forward, turning his face away so as to not let his voice carry towards the younger nerd.

“We don’t even know if those men even are the police. Let’s wait until we know more before we go and hand them everything,” he whispers, looking behind his shades at the shorter boy. The brunette mulls this over, pursing his lips with a reluctant nod.

Johnny gets both boys to follow him back down the hill, searching for James or Freddie. They eventually find Freddie sitting at one of the outdoor picnic tables, looking over a clipboard with schedules and a notepad. When they break the news to the counselor, their bright toothy smile quickly falls into a gaping contortion of alarmed dread.

They immediately jump from the table, almost falling over the bench in the process, running into the main lodge. They return with the Sheriff-not-Sheriff and Deputy-not-Deputy and James Kreese in tow. James orders Daniel and Timmy to stay put while they follow the blonde back up the hill and behind the archery area.

In a flurry of commands and running around, Deputy Stoker runs back to their cars, grabbing caution tape, a tarp, rope, and gloves, before securing the body while the Sheriff looks around. The older man eventually heads back down the hill, interrogating the three boys on the discovery. To Johnny’s relief, Timmy and Daniel both keep quiet about the IDs. Timmy even hides his camcorder from the man while talking to him.

At some point, Manny must have noticed the activity and helps to wrangle all of his and Johnny’s campers. With a reassuring look, the older boy takes them inside the lodge, distracting them with board games and whatnot until lunchtime.

After all of the questions and running around with the authorities, James dismisses the boys back to their group, telling them to rest and take it easy. He pins Johnny with a look, asking him to hang back for a moment. Daniel frowns and looks to the blonde for assurance, taking the curt nod as a reply. The brunette walks away slowly, probably trying to pick up any of their conversation once his back is turned. Once he’s around the corner of the building, James turns to the boy, looking him over with a scrutinizing eye.

“I’m sorry about your friend,” he says finally, in a quiet but unnaturally soft tone, “They were a great asset to the team and to all of the kids under their care.” Johnny pulls on one of his hoodie’s drawstrings uncomfortably.

“I d-didn’t really know them,” the blonde looks away, not sure what to say. “But they seemed like a good person.” James nods and relaxes his shoulders, drawing his hands back behind him.

“But that’s not why I wanted to talk to you.”

Johnny quirks an eyebrow from behind his sunglasses, turning back to the larger man curiously.

“You-” he starts, tilting his head as he searches for the right words, “You look more in control.”

“Uh, thanks?” the blonde replies awkwardly, not entirely sure what the older man is referring to.

“Did you speak with the angel?” Johnny freezes. Angel? He looks up into the man’s eyes, not seeing any signs of humor in them.

“What are you talking about?” he asks quietly, wanting to step back for some reason. But the older man’s presence seems to keep him anchored. James leans over the lanky boy, tilting his head as he peers down at Johnny from one side to the other.

“I see,” he finally whispers, a strange smile or frown twisting on his lips. “You have embraced the angel. I knew you would come to your senses. Your place is here with us, and the angel choosing you- it is a gift so few have experienced.” Johnny shakes his head, not understanding a word he’s saying.

“I don’t- Angel? Is this some kind of metaphor or something?”

The blonde is reminded of a couple of old ladies who would go door to door selling Avon products, only for his mom and all of the other neighborhood moms to receive a bundle of evangelical Christian books and brochures and pamphlets, telling them that ‘beauty is a product of God’ or something insane like that.

“Maybe. But I’d like you to help me with something tonight,” James shrugs before placing one of his large calloused hands on Johnny’s shoulder. “There are others, like you, that are strong and smart and could be a great help to our cause. And we’re going to speak with them tonight, around midnight. Think of it like an initiation ceremony.”

Johnny tenses up, too afraid to push the larger man off of him.

“I’m good,” he says simply, smiling politely under the man’s arm. James blinks and exhales.

“I don’t think you understand what I’m asking here. I’m asking for your help tonight.”

Trying to keep the polite smile pasted on his face, Johnny shrugs his shoulder out from under the man’s grasp, stepping to the side and putting some distance between them.

“I’m okay, really,” the blonde waves his hands placatingly in front of him, “But I hope the meeting or ceremony or whatever goes well tonight.” He takes a few steps backwards, towards the lodge entrance. James doesn’t follow. Instead, the larger man pulls his hands behind his back again, a military stance of cool and calm.

–

The staff decides to wait until after lunch to tell everyone the news, the heavy bell ringing sharply through the cabins and hills with an anxious tone. All of the sun-kissed and hungry campers excitedly rush into the building, forming a long line against the side wall, talking with new and old friends about their plans for summer after camp.

Johnny and Daniel join the line, the blonde feeling surprisingly peckish after running around all morning. James Kreese’s words and strange offer still occupy his mind, but he can’t seem to think straight with the hunger gnawing inside of him. The brunette is quiet, clearly not focusing on anything in particular as he almost forgets to grab a tray. The taller boy huffs and slides his tray over before grabbing another, nudging the shorter boy forward.

“And for you, handsome?” Edna calls through the window, grabbing Daniel’s attention. He jumps slightly, apologizing, before looking over the menu board in front of him.

“Uh, I’ll take the chicken,” he smiles shyly, the smile not fully meeting his eyes. The old woman peers up at him through thin lashes, her eyes twinkling as the deep wrinkles on her face curve upward when she smiles.

“You sure you don’t want any of the fresh fish?” she asks, clicking her tongs together, “We get it straight from the lake every morning! Much better than the frozen chicken we had shipped weeks ago.” She whispers that last part, like it’s some inside lunchlady secret.

“That’s okay, I’m not really hungry anyway,” Daniel shrugs and smiles politely as she clicks her tongs before grabbing the pale breaded chicken from the bin and places it on his tray.

“I’ll take the fish,” the blonde says quickly as she turns to him. His eyes linger on the cuts of meat before him, his stomach grumbling with hunger.

“Fish?” the brunette blinks, momentarily confused. “I thought you hated fish?”

Johnny smiles back at crazy Edna after she places the food on his tray, winking at him before he turns from the window.

“Uh, this fish is different, I guess. Better. Much better.” He walks past the shorter boy to go grab fries and a drink, still feeling those dark eyes on his back, watching him curiously.

Johnny sits down at the Counselors’ table, which Manny and Claire later take the seats across from him, talking in whispers about Taylor’s body being found. The blonde, still suspicious of Manny, keeps the details brief and simple. He shrugs and tells them that he was too busy puking up his breakfast to really look at it. He wolfs down his lunch, the fish actually hitting the spot and surprisingly tasty. Maybe he should eat fish more…

Eventually, James and Freddie call everyone’s attention up to the front of the room, announcing that they have finally found Counselor Taylor. James explains that the authorities are taking care of the situation and investigating what happened, but it looks like the counselor got lost in the woods and died from dehydration and exhaustion. Torn and bloodied clothes flash in Johnny’s eyes. They’re lying. The two urge campers to stick together with a buddy system and to follow all of the counselors’ orders when travelling in the woods.

When the announcements are done and everyone is dismissed from lunch, the room erupts loudly with chatter and questions and kids putting away their trays and trash. Before Johnny can gather his campers, Cynthia stops in front of him, smiling and biting her dark and plump bottom lip nervously.

“Hey, Johnny,” she makes a small wave with her neatly manicured fingers, “Would you be able to help me move some of the tables and chairs to the front? I’ve got an artsy puppet workshop thing, and I just know they’ll get glue and glitter in the actual armchairs.” Johnny glances down as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, her long legs glistening with newly applied sunscreen. His face goes warm as a blush creeps along the back of his neck and across his cheeks. He looks away, searching for a distraction, towards the front of the room where he sees James and Freddie now talking with Manny, Claire, and Stevey.

“Uh, sure. I just gotta get my kids to JD for whatever music class he’s doing-” The blonde turns back to the dark-skinned woman before him, when she steps forward, placing a light hand on his chest.

“Oh! Why don’t I do that for you? The tables are going to be the heaviest to move anyway, so I can come back and help with the chairs afterwards.” She smiles brightly and he can only dumbly smile and nod back.

She skips away towards his campers’ table while he drops off his tray and starts moving some of the furniture in front of the fireplace. By the time he’s started moving some of the folding tables towards the front of the room, Cynthia is back. She confirms that the kids are with JD doing ‘whatever music class he’s teaching’ and helps him carry a long table over. They grab a few more tables before filling the space with chairs. She smiles and thanks him for the help, placing a small kiss on his cheek and a lingering hand on his chest. He blushes furiously, feeling stupid for his body’s reaction to any kind of intimate touch. The younger boy clears his throat, smiles with embarrassment, and hurries out of the lodge before he can say or do anything else stupid.

Johnny, not really wanting to sit around and wait for JD’s class to finish, decides to walk around the campground, enjoying the sunshine and warmth of the mountainous summer heat on his skin. At one point, he almost takes off the cropped hoodie before remembering the strange markings and ridges on his skin. He stops, suddenly remembering that he discovered them today. So much had happened this morning that he completely lost sense of time and thought that he woke up on the shore days ago. But no, it was all in the last twelve or so hours.

Not noticing his hand reaching up, he pulls on the drawstrings of his hoodie, tightening the hood around his throat. Tighter and tighter.

After an hour or so of hiking, Johnny returns to the patch of grass across from the volleyball net and rock climbing wall where JD has laid out blankets and various instruments for the kids to try out. He waves to the always-caffeinated geek, a cropped leather vest over his counselor t-shirt and a floral bandana tied around his neck like an ascot. Johnny chuckles to himself, imagining the young man as a Smiths groupie.

JD waves back, a strangely water-like dance with his hands and fingers. Johnny sighs. Why can’t he just wave like a normal person? JD claps his hands and gets to his feet as the kids place the instruments in a pile by his feet. He gives each one an enthusiastic high five as they leave, heading towards Johnny. The blonde rolls his eyes and starts walking up the hill, towards the fire pit where Sara does fire and knife safety training.

About halfway up, in cabin 5B’s cool shade, something nags at the back of his mind. He stops and turns back to the kids behind him, looking into their sweaty and animated faces. He looks around before turning back to the paved path, taking a few steps. Then he stops again.

“Are you okay, Counselor Johnny?” a kid asks with a giggle.

He turns back to the campers, looking them over again. Frizzy redhair, nerd with camcorder, bowl cut, lanky kid, square hair, Newar- Wait. He spins around, making sure the boy was standing behind him before turning back to the waiting kids.

Newark.

“Where’s Daniel?”

Chapter Text

Johnny sprints back down the hill, trying to not think about how easy it would be to trip and fly downward onto his face. He also doesn’t think about the group of kids he left standing in the middle of the road, only thinking of the brunette’s worried frown when he walked away from Johnny and James earlier. He circles the low-hanging tree to the right of the path, stumbling to a stop before he almost tramples over a new group of kids sitting on JD’s spread of blankets in the grass.

“JD, did you see where Daniel went?” he asks, practically wheezing.

“Daniel?” JD’s wide charcoal-lined eyes stare back in confusion.

“Uh short, dark-haired kid with an annoying Jersey accent,” Johnny gulps more air down, “Was just here for your music workshop.”

“Uh, sorry, man. I don’t remember any kid with an accent. Are you sure he was here?” the man shrugs, not sure what to do or say. Johnny wants to roll his eyes and just punch this guy in his dumb face.

“Ye-” Wait. He never actually saw Daniel among the blankets and instruments. Frankly, he wasn’t really paying that much attention to the campers. “No, actually… Did you see Cynthia with Daniel, at all? After she dropped off the others?” JD shrugs again, shaking his head.

“No, sorry, man.”

Johnny runs a hand through his hair, pushing his bangs out of his face. He looks around the grassy field and the paved path before his eyes fall on the main lodge. Cynthia said she was overseeing an art class inside. He leaves the music class behind, bewildered and confused at his interruption, running inside the lodge and finding the young woman helping a middle schooler with gluing together two panes of a wooden birdhouse. Johnny takes another breath, walking up to her.

“Cynthia, where’s Daniel?” She looks up and smiles before looking back down at the table.

“Who?”

“Ugh, Daniel!” he scowls, worry eating him alive more and more by the second. “Dark-haired, short, annoying Jersey boy.”

“Oh, him! I haven’t seen him since breakfast, I think,” Cynthia lets go of the panes, satisfied that they won’t collapse. She looks up into the blonde’s face. “Why?”

“I can’t find him, and the last time I saw him was before you took my group to JD.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t remember him being with the group when I gathered them,” she rubs her hands together, peeling the remaining glue residue from her fingertips. She suddenly smirks at him, some subtext he can’t bother to read. “Honestly, I thought you had him doing something else.” He freezes, tilting his head slightly in question.

“What do you mean?”

“C’mon, pretty boy,” she nudges him playfully in the side with one of her lean elbows, “You’re usually glued at the hip. I, like, never see you two separated.” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, her dark lips curled into a mischievous smile. He steps back without thinking, slowly shaking his head before he realizes it. Johnny clears his throat before speaking.

“You’re sure he wasn’t at the lunch table when you took them over?” He gestures towards the empty folding tables sitting in the other half of the room.

“I’m sure,” her smile falters and a seriousness seeps into her features. She tilts her head downward, speaking lower than before. “I hope you find him… He’s cute.” Cynthia places a soft hand on his arm, squeezing gently, before stepping back towards the kid she was helping.

Not sure where to look, he exits the lodge and walks down the wooden steps towards the path. The sun is descending quicker now, a cool breeze whispering through the vibrant trees around him. Staring at nothing in particular, his thoughts race, trying to remember anything or anyone who may know where his friend- uh, camper is. The blonde blinks his vision back into focus, deciding he should look for Manny. The older man may be hiding something involving this camp, so maybe he knows where the kid is.

He checks his schedule and quickly heads north in the direction of where Capture-the-Flag usually meets up by Cabin 4, but halfway up the hill, he bumps into Claire. She blows a bubble in his direction, popping it loudly as a hello. He rests his hands on his hips, trying to catch his breath again.

“Hey, have you seen Daniel?” he manages to say calmly and clearly. She hums and twirls a curl of dirty blonde hair around her finger in thought.

“Hmmmmmm… nope,” she answers with a ‘pop’ on the last syllable. Johnny grits his teeth and exhales soundly in annoyance, fighting the urge to curse loudly.

“Well, have you seen Manny?”

“Ah, Manny’s currently with the nurse. Sounds like he took a tackle to the ground too hard,” she sniggers, openly chewing her brightly colored gum through her teeth and lips obnoxiously. “You would think he’d have protection against concussions with how thick his skull is…”

“Shit, he got a concussion?”

“Yep. Marion helped him to the nurse and last I heard, he was laying down and taking it easy,” she scoffs at this, “Of course, he gets injured and doesn’t have to spend the rest of the day in the heat like the rest of us.” Johnny shakes his head, feeling more and more dismayed as his potential witness list shortens. Claire chews her gum for a moment, standing across from the blonde as he thinks of other people he could ask.

“Alright, blondie, I gotta run,” Claire finally speaks up as she starts to walk past the taller boy, “Gotta grab the rugrats from Cynthia’s clutches. See you tonight?” Johnny’s head swivels on his shoulders quickly, his eyes boring into Claire’s retreating back. He frowns, the feeling of a heavy frozen stone dropping in his stomach, leaving his limbs feeling numb with icyness.

“Tonight?”

She flips her hair back, smiling at him as she walks down the hill.

“Thanks for helping out tonight. It’s gonna be fun!” She blows a bubble in her gum, turning away as the sound of it popping bounces around in Johnny’s head.

Tonight… He needs to find James Kreese.

–

Johnny hurries up the hill to his cabin, thankfully finding the rest of the campers all there. As he shoves the door open, some of the kids scamper around the room, trying to hide snacks or the butt of a barely smoked cigarette. He ignores them and walks quickly through the cabin, doing a headcount over and over as he searches the bathroom showers and stalls for any sign of the brunette.

Nine. Only nine.

Johnny instructs the campers to stay in the cabin until dinnertime, telling them to go down the hill as a group if he’s not back by then. All of the kids nod their heads, the gravity of the situation becoming more and more surreal. Before he leaves, he gives his whistle and flashlight to the older teen with the blocky afro, telling him to count everyone before and after dinner and to use the whistle to call for help, if something were to happen. The boy takes them and places the whistle around his neck, inhaling slightly as the burden of responsibility literally hangs around his neck. Johnny gives him a nod and hurries out the door, scouting the campgrounds for the militant leader.

He starts at the archery range and the fire pit, then makes his way up to the clearing overlooking the lake. The blonde tries to peer down at the lake docks, but the vantage point is too high and the sky is darkening over the dark water. He feels a tug once again to jump over the log fence, to dive from the cliff and into those waters. With a yanking of his heart, he turns away, keeping the brunette’s safety in the front of his mind.

Jogging back down to the campground, he wipes the sweat from his eyes as the sun starts to dip lower down the cliff and behind the darkly dense trees surrounding their once ‘safe haven for summer fun.’

He checks the clearing behind cabins 6 and 4, watching as a game of Capture-the-Flag winds down. His eyes skim over all of their faces, their heights, their hair and eye colors. With a scowl, he turns back around and heads towards cabin 6, searching inside, before checking cabin 5A and then, cabin 4A and 4B.

Chad tries to give him a hard time as he swings the door open between the two halves of the cabin, but once Johnny starts to ask about Daniel, his demeanor softens and he steps back, giving the blonde space to look around. Johnny tries to keep his interactions with the other counselors to a minimum, not wanting to believe that the Jersey boy is actually missing. He keeps his questions short and simple, immediately knowing if a person is worth his time or not.

As he exits the cabin, the dinner bell rings loudly, almost making him jump. Thinking quickly, he runs towards the paved path, looking down the hill towards the lodge and where the bell resides. He sees the smaller form of Freddie swinging the rope from side to side, a bright and warm smile on their face as the neon orange ear plugs stand out under their shaggy hair and bucket cap. They stand there for a moment, hugging their clipboard, happily listening to the echo of the bell before turning around and walking around the corner of the lodge towards the entrance.

Suddenly, he’s surrounded by noise and skipping and jumping kids, all tired from a full day of activities in the sun but very hungry and excited for food. He steps to the side of the path, letting the kids rush by him. Deciding to search the rest of the cabins while everyone’s gone, he crosses the grassy patches and gravel paths towards cabin 3, and down to cabin 1.

About ten or so minutes later, he exits cabin 1 and stands outside the now closed door, staring at the rumbling lodge across the road. It looks just like it did the first time he laid eyes on it: looming lumber beams stacked on top of each other, its large rugged roof painted green years ago, and its long and peering windows bleeding yellow light out onto the dark concrete patio and gravel parking lot. Its walls vibrate and bounce with a chaotic energy, numerous kids and teens and young adults chatting and laughing and breathing. The large outdoor light standing to the side of the parking lot flickers on, bathing the gravel and dark tendril of the paved road in a pale orangey yellow light. The brief thought of competition flutters in Johnny’s mind, two lights vying for the most coverage. Fighting for the brightest light. As he looks up, catching a few pale and dreary moths dancing around the lamp, he feels sick.

His frien- Daniel is missing and no amount of light is going to find him. With a sigh, he gathers the electric anxiety sparking around his heart and smothers it with a dark and cruel determination. Pushing his shoulders back, and lifting his head high, he strides towards the welcoming lodge with that cocky confidence he’s so familiar with.

As he pushes the glass-paned door open, he ignores some of the closer looks and stares, casually walking towards the Counselors’ table as his eyes search the room. He smiles and waves to his fellow counselors, briefly asking if they have seen James around.

No one has.

Whether busy with paperwork or the situation with finding Taylor, no one has seen James since around lunchtime. Claire gives him a look across the table, an unreadable tilt of her head and narrowing of her eyes. Worry? Suspicion? Why would she be suspicious of me?

As he walks towards the kitchen window, looking past Greasy Gus who stands bored over a tray of overcooked pasta, he peers into the back corner of the kitchen, where the camp office resides. The boy sees a large shadow pass across a table lamp near the desk, but no actual sign of James. Before his staring becomes too suspicious, he reaches for a tray. Still feeling satisfied from lunch, he allows Gus to scoop some pasta onto his tray, not planning on eating it anyway. He grabs some water from the cooler and sits down at the long Counselor’s table, using this time to check the kids’ faces and hair and voices again.

Where did that twerp go?

–

After dinner, Johnny meets up with his table of campers and leads them back to the cabin. The blonde is quiet the whole way up, running the day’s events over in his mind, looking for any clues he may have missed or misinterpreted.

“Let’s not play games, alright?”

“You kissed me.”

That damn accent rings around his head like those dizzying cartoon birds and he can’t help the wince as his heart skips a beat. He can see the shorter boy clearly in his mind, his dark hair catching the warm light from the lamps as they walk under them and his dark eyes always twinkling, always ready to push his buttons. And hell, he’d let him. He’d let that twerp push any and all of his buttons, drive him up a fucking wall, if it meant that he was here and safe. He would let Daniel Larsdftyo annoy him ‘til the end of time. Rivals… friends… whatever it took to keep the other boy safe.

He doesn’t speak when he opens the door to the cabin, doesn’t say anything when he stands in the doorway and counts the nine heads that follow after him, and doesn’t talk to anyone when he sits on the edge of his bunk, staring over at Daniel’s sleeping bag. He only speaks when it hits bedtime, giving everyone a fifteen minute heads up before he turns out the lights.

–

He lays on his bed in the dark, still in his clothes and shoes, staring at the bottom of the top bunk over him. He wraps his black thin headband nervously around one hand, then the other, then back. His vision blurs, not really focusing on any details of the shadowed wooden beams crossing over him like dark bars of a cage.

“...I’d like you to help me with something tonight… around midnight…”

The pleasantly cryptic words linger in his ears, the older man’s hand still heavy on his shoulder. He feels a pressure wrap itself around his throat and he swallows, squeezing his eyes as he breathes through the fear. He blinks, trying to focus his vision on the face of his watch.

11:47.

Sitting up, he listens to the quiet snoring and steady breathing in the dark around him. Quietly, he makes his way towards the front door, creeping around the squeaky floorboards. He turns the doorknob and pulls it swiftly, letting the door open quickly without too much noise. He pauses as he hears a couple of kids shift in their bunks. Soon, the snores start back up and he slips out of the cabin, leaving the door slightly ajar but resting gently on the old warped frame.

Johnny looks up towards the fire pit, but doesn’t see any flames or light. He pulls the black headband from his pocket and ties it around his forehead, brushing his bangs from his eyes. Guess I’ll head down then.

Without his flashlight, he walks a little slower, making sure to not trip on any loose rocks or knots of weeds. The rushing sound of owls and bats flying overhead whispers to him; their light wings and sharp talons brushing against the leaves and needles as they land on creaking branches somewhere in the inky darkness. As he starts to curve around cabin 5B, he freezes before quickly backing up against the side of the cabin. Voices. Excited whispers and soft footsteps.

Drowned in the shadow of cabin 5B, he sidles the wall towards the closest corner to the pathway, peering out towards the entrance of the cabin. The stark yellow caution tape hangs limply from the wooden rafters, gently waving people towards the cabin’s wide and dark maw. The door is open.

He watches the dark figures move closer in the shadows. A mousy teen girl, with a large letterman jacket and pleated shorts, holds onto a shorter and stockier guy’s arm, large metal-framed glasses sitting on an even larger nose. They whisper to each other with sly smiles and wide eyes. She follows behind the guy as they both step up onto the wooden porch before walking into the darkness of the cabin and out of Johnny’s sight.

Still draped in the building’s shadow, the blonde steps around the corner, ducking under the dusty windows and towards a thinly-dense shrub sitting in a nook beside the porch. He soon spots another boy walking under one of the outdoor lights, a tall guy with heavy freckles, coming from the direction of cabin 2.

Taking a deep breath, Johnny steps out from the bush, sneaking quietly behind the tall boy, their bony shadows bleeding into the dark pitch of cabin 5B. As they step up onto the worn and weather porch, the floorboards slightly squeak under their feet, but the boy doesn’t look back. He stares forward, small ripples of light flickering on a table or a bunk inside. The freckled guy walks forward into the dim room, and Johnny quickly follows, keeping his head down as he walks across the dusty and stale room towards one of the empty corner bunks. In the dim candlelight, his eyes search the room’s occupants for Daniel, his vision grazing over the shadowed and varied faces of excitement, trepidation, disbelief, and pride. Three of the teenagers stand huddled against the bunks along the back wall, whispering in hushed voices, while two others stand slightly apart in front of a bunk closer to the door, arms crossed and shoulders hunched in a defensive stance.

As he sits down on the lower bunk closest to him, the bed frame creaking under his weight, his eyes catch movement in the corner opposite him. Silhouetted by the large windows, unmistakable blonde hair falls forward as Ben Stoker, the deputy not-deputy, sits perched on a top bunk, peering through the window at all of those who enter. The older man runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back behind his ears as he leans against the wall.

Another girl enters then, dark-skinned with thick braids covered in pastel colored hairclips. Her steps falter as she crosses the threshold and she looks around at the other campers, finally standing next to the other two boys closer to the door.

The Deputy shifts, giving a thumbs up before the door closes behind her with a weak ‘thud.’ The shadow behind the now closed door recedes from the candlelight, revealing Claire, her camp shirt covered by a long dark blue hooded robe of some kind, leaning against the wall. She reaches under the fabric and pulls out a piece of gum, popping it into her mouth with a wolfish grin.

At the sound of the door closing, a closet or stall opens on the other side of the room behind her. Two sets of footsteps emerge and Johnny leans on the bunk slightly to see a large hooded figure in the same dark blue robe cross the room. James Kreese. Behind him, another robed figure walks further in, his tanned hands carrying a large pitcher before placing it onto the small table in the center of the room. Manny.

“Before we start, I want to apologize that the Church of Everlasting Waters doesn’t have an actual church to meet in. The old one burned down in ‘43 and they’re still in the process of building the new one. But that is something we can worry about in the future. For now, we’re here because of you.”

James turns his head slowly under the hood, looking around at everyone. Johnny leans back on the bunk, hoping the older man can’t see him past the beds and others.

“For years now, we’ve seen the brightest and strongest campers walk through our doors, becoming incredible leaders and supporters, only to leave, back to their unsatisfying and ruthless daily lives. These talented campers left our doors, only to throw away those skills and wits for some hapless job behind a desk or a fast-food counter. They no longer had drive, direction, or guidance outside of the menial skills they learned here.”

James takes a step towards the couple who entered before Johnny, his hood sliding back a little to reveal his face in the candlelight more.

“Tell me, how does making friendship bracelets help with accounting?” The mousy girl hesitantly opens her mouth to try answering before the larger man turns to her boyfriend. “How does archery help run business meetings with CEOs and investors?”

He stands for a moment, letting the silence fill the musty room, his tense words seeping into the nooks and crannies around them.

“They don’t do shit,” he pulls his hood back with a large hand, staring back intently into every single pair of eyes watching him, “But, those skills don’t have to be the only thing you acquire here at this camp. You can change, can grow, can transform into an even stronger and smarter person.”

“And maybe Leader James can’t change you, maybe Counselor Claire or myself or any of the others can’t change you,” Manny speaks up behind the larger man, his gestures swishing the dark fabric around him, “But that’s exactly what the Church of Everlasting Waters can do. It is a gathering of the bravest and most open-minded individuals, all who have gone through a change or transformation.”

Johnny’s fingers unconsciously wrap around the drawstring of his hoodie, anxiously pulling the hood tighter around his throat as he listens.

“Now, I know, some of you may already be a part of some parish back home. But this is something different. This church- this movement doesn’t put a God on display, an omniscient figurehead that may or may not judge every single thing you do. No,” James pauses, pulling his shoulders back tightly and standing taller than ever, “This movement only concerns itself with an angel. An actual angel, not some damn feathered baby painted on a ceiling in some precious cathedral.” The light flickers across his face, the corners of his mouth deep and dark as he frowns in disgust.

“One that I hope all of you may be able to witness for yourselves one day…” Manny adds, the ghost of a pale smile curling under his dark and silvery shining eyes below the hood’s edge.

“Isn’t an angel just a messenger for God?” The tall freckled boy asks with a heavily dubious and stuck-up tone. James and Manny turn their heads towards him simultaneously, a slow shift of their robes as they move.

“Could be…” James says simply, “Or maybe angels have more that they can do for us. More that they can offer us, unlike a God, who stays as far away from their creations.”

“Which makes sense,” Manny adds, his white teeth sharp behind his lips, “There are way too many people in this world for a God to tend to alone. So why shouldn’t they send words and gifts with an angel, to guide and teach everyone they can’t reach.”

“I thought this was gonna be some type of prize or whatever?” The spectacled jock bluntly asks, causing his girlfriend to playfully punch his shoulder and hold in a giggle.

“Is that what you thought? A prize? Whatever?” James directs his words to the boy, stepping closer and looming over him, “No, the angel doesn’t award prizes. It seeks those with talents and will and offers a gift. No gimmicks, no contracts. Just a gift to those that want more to life than what’s out there than shopping malls and baseball.”

Johnny watches the campers’ stances shift as they ponder the men’s words, still unsure of what is really the meaning of this meeting and why they’re all there. From the corner of his eye, he glances over at the Deputy, silently watching with a fierce interest.

“Okay, so what’s the gift, sir?” The quiet girl with braids pipes up from the other side of the bunk, her elbow resting on her hip and her hand gesturing are the only things the blonde can see of her from his vantage point.

Manny quietly pours from the pitcher into a small disposable cup and holds it out for the older man to take. His large hand surrounds the cup; the tall flame of the candle burning tensely under his grasp on the table. Johnny’s eyes lift to Manny’s face, the shadows crawling across his features with sharp and hungry licks of the candle’s light.

“The gift is simple,” James holds the cup out for everyone to see before he offers it to the girl, “Drink from it.”

“Drink from it? The angel?” she asks, her voice shaky with disbelief and worry, as she takes the small cup from him.

“Drink what exactly?” the mousy girl asks, curious and intrigued.

Their camp leader smiles to himself before he steps forward again, his eyes sliding past the teens and past the bunks to the dark corner of the room. To where he’s sitting.

“John Lawrence, please come up here,” he commands with a direct but soft voice, the sleeves of his robe pulling back as he clasps his hands behind his back in his usual military stance.

Eyes. Eyes everywhere.

All of the campers peer around the edges of the bunks, staring at him with confusion and anticipation. He feels the Deputy lean forward on the bunk, the frame whining under his draped legs. His eyes bore into Johnny’s back as he ducks out of the bed and stands up. Like a hungry wolf watching its prey.

As Johnny walks past the empty bunks, towards the half-circle of teens and the larger man, he feels the heat of the candlelight warmly reach out and touch his face. The blonde stops at the edge of the circle, but one look at James’ stoic face forces his feet to keep moving forward, finally stopping next to the larger man.

“John, here, has recently joined our ranks,” the older man shifts closer, wrapping a warm and silky arm around his shoulders. The edge of the fabric tickles the back of his neck, but he doesn’t dare move.

“More than that, the angel called to him and spoke with him.”

An angel called to me? What is this delusional man even talking about?

“You may think I’m crazy, delusional even-” the blonde snaps his head up, looking at the older man with a puzzled grimace. How did he-?

“-That all this talk of angels and gifts is crazy. But I can assure you, this boy has answered the angel’s call and embraced it fully. Claire?” James doesn’t look away from the campers in front of him, only reaching out with his other hand as the older blonde quietly hands him a tall glass of water from the sink hidden in the corner alcove. Johnny hadn’t even heard her move, hadn’t heard the running water. He watches her smile at James, trying to catch his attention and praise, but the older man doesn’t acknowledge her.

Instead, he raises the glass of water overhead in a silent salute, before the boy quickly squeezes his eyes shut as the glass dips and cold water pours straight down onto his head. He yelps, trying to pull away from the larger man, but that heavy hand pins him tightly to his side. Once the glass is empty, James lowers it, holding it out for Claire to take it from him.

Johnny gasps in shock, his hoodie and shirt thoroughly soaked from the shoulders, his hair now limp and dripping onto his face. Before he can fully scowl or curse, can fully comprehend what just happened, James’ hand lifts off his shoulder, only to grab onto some damp locks on the back of his head. The older man pulls his head back slightly, and uses his other hand to grab the neck of his hoodie, yanking it lower.

The blonde hears a curt scream before it’s covered up, stunned gasps and sharp inhales circle around him. Johnny feels the white-hot panic burning in his chest; the shame and embarrassment stinging his eyes as he stands in front of these people with whatever weird transmutation or metamorphosis bullshit he’s dealing with. The cold and heavy snake coils around his throat, threatening to strangle him as he tries to pull away.

“Mr. Lawrence has shown ambition by consuming the angel’s blood, by being embraced in the angel’s waters of change and transformation. Mr. Lawrence has become a very brave and formidable soldier for our movement, to help many children and young adults, like yourselves, grow and change.” James finally lets go of his hair and hoodie, stepping away from the wet and scared boy standing stiffly in the center of the room.

“But not all of those we’ve chosen have been as…promising.”

The larger man nods to Claire and Manny, who open the door to what looks to be a very dark bathroom and enter. Johnny leans to the side, peering past the older man, squinting at the trembling shapes huddled on the floor. Manny steps behind one of them and the blonde’s heart stops. Arms and legs bound in thick ropes and mouth gagged with a twisted bandanna, dark floppy hair sways from side to side as Daniel tries to inch away from the older man. Johnny grits his teeth in rage, desperately looking out of the corner of his eye for anything he can use to bash James’ head in. The bunk in the corner squeaks behind him, followed by a soft ‘thud’ on the wooden floor. The boy glances into that corner, meeting the older blonde’s eyes as he walks around the bunk and stands with his hand on his gun. A warning. Shit.

Johnny turns his head back to the bathroom, as Manny walks a stumbling and still tied Daniel out and leans him against the wall. Claire drags another person out, some young woman with messy auburn curly hair and red puffy eyes. But Johnny doesn’t care about her right now. His eyes lock onto Daniel, searching every inch of him in the flickering candlelight. He seems to be alright, a small trail of dried blood ends below his cheekbone, the origin somewhere under his hair. Daniel glares at the three robed figures, still full of exhausted spite and restless energy.

“Before I assigned Mr. Lawrence as RA for cabin 7, we had spoken with Ms. Betty Miller, who had worked at the camp the year before. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the same goals as the church so we couldn’t have her spreading rumors and lies to our campers,” James steps closer to the shaking woman and gently unties the gag behind her head. She immediately starts to sob and plead, before the older man shushes her. She falls silent.

“And Mr. Daniel LaRusso, one of your fellow campers, was rumored to be sneaking into the Leadership cabin and out in the woods after curfew,” the man moves closer to the brunette and Johnny clenches his fists, watching him carefully as the larger man removes the gag from the shorter boy’s mouth. He holds a finger to his lips and Daniel, smartly, doesn’t say a word. But those dark eyes shoot deadly daggers.

“We are still investigating these rumors, but thought, maybe he would benefit from initiation into our cause versus discipline and potential dismissal from camp once the road opens back up.” Manny lets go of Daniel and crosses to the table, pouring from the pitcher again.

“Now, Mr. Lawrence-” James turns back towards the lanky boy with damp hair and clothes, “John, as the angel’s chosen, I want you to choose who gets the gift.” Manny steps around the table and hands Johnny a small white paper cup, its contents are dark and syrupy.

“Johnny,” James’ quiet voice pulls him away from the cup, the use of his nickname rough and edged with danger. Kreese. “Choose.”

Eyes. Breaths. Heartbeats silently thumping around him. Feeling everyone’s stares on his back, on his face, on his hands, he looks back down at the cup. The ichor held in his hands calls to him, like the taste of chocolate when you’ve gone so long without sugar. Or like coffee, the first sip coursing rapidly through your veins and seeping into your heart with adrenaline. He licks his lips, just wanting to tip his head back and let the liquid drip down his thirsty throat.

“Johnny, man…” a small whisper breaks through his hunger. He lifts his eyes painfully away from the cup, finding dark doe-like eyes staring back at him. Daniel frowns with worry, shaking his head quietly. The blonde takes in those eyes, those dark lashes, his sun-kissed skin. He can’t…he can’t be like me. He can’t become a monster like me.

I have to keep him safe.

With a grimace, Johnny steps towards Betty, her wide, bloodshot green eyes frantically pleading with him. Claire grips her hair and the ropes around her arms, forcing the woman’s head backwards. Johnny takes one last glance at the cup in his hands. He didn’t notice before, but his discolored fingers are even more blue and dark against the white of the paper.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers before tilting the cup over her parted mouth. Once the dark liquid is drained from the cup, Claire covers her mouth, forcing her to swallow or choke. Betty swallows with tears now trailing down her face.

Johnny turns away, ashamed, before looking towards the robed leader with disgust and hatred. James pulls his hands behind his back, lifting his chin in thought.

“As I figured,” the larger man turns away from the blonde, addressing the others, “Instead of following his heart and giving it to his friend, he gave the gift to a complete stranger, an enemy of the church. With the angel’s guidance, he judged these two and delivered justice.”

What?

A strange gurgling gasp cuts through the dreary sputtering of the candlelight and the soft scratching of tree branches against the cabin’s roof. Everyone’s heads whip around towards the wall as Claire lets go of Betty and steps back, the auburn woman’s mouth wide and drooling as her eyes start to roll back in her head. She collapses in a heap, her back arching like a live wire. Suddenly, her body starts convulsing and a frothy pink spit bubbles out of her throat, spilling from her mouth. Johnny watches in horror, not sure what to do. He hears someone move behind him, but they are promptly stopped, no one else moving towards the woman.

After a few agonizing minutes, a quiet whine falls from her lips, a last breath as all of her limbs relax and fall limply against the ropes. Her head rolls to the side, lying at a horrible angle against the dusty floor.

An icy realization rings loudly in Johnny’s ears as he hears her whine repeating over and over, louder and louder, grazing against his bones and digging into his marrow.

He just killed Betty Miller.

Chapter Text

The blonde stares down at Betty Miller’s lifeless body, the pale pink spittle dripping slowly from the corner of her slack mouth. The whites of her eyes stare into the dark abyss of her half-shuddered eyelids.

He feels a light breeze of fabric brush against his ankles as a grounding hand weighs heavily on his shoulder for a moment, before pulling away like a cranked up anchor.

“It’s always a horrible feeling when you have to make sacrifices, when you have to judge others by their own actions and dole out punishment,” James Kreese says, “In the army, I had to do it almost every day, and it still haunts me sometimes. But you do it to survive, to become stronger. Not for one person, but for the entire battalion.”

The cold snake coils snugly against Johnny’s collarbone, its crushing weight adding pressure to his already starving lungs as it presses against his throat like rough fingers.

“We need the strongest fighters, the smartest leaders, and the bravest voices- such as yours- to lead this new movement. This isn’t just about faith in gods or angels, it isn’t just about survival and social skills you learn over the summer, it’s about the power and determination to achieve anything you want. You, and any other young adults out there, who are struggling with family, school, money, or whatever: you deserve the gift to overcome these problems. You deserve the gift the angel is offering you right now.”

Soft steps and the swishing of fabric moves around Johnny as he stares down at a curl of auburn hair laying across Betty’s tear-stricken cheek. A tan hand swims in front of his vision for a moment, rough but soft fingers placing a small cup in his hands again. The blonde blinks and lifts his head to Manny’s shining dark eyes, a gentle smile on his brown lips as he walks back to the small table. Johnny looks down at the paper cup, his eyes out of focus slightly, before he looks around the room at the other campers. They each hold a similar cup of dark liquid in their hands, cautiously sniffing and peering into it in the dim candlelight. His eyes slide towards the larger man, now standing in front of him, holding a cup in the air.

“Here is to the chosen,” he swings his arm up slowly, almost like that of a toast, “Here is to you all, the newest members of the Church of Everlasting Waters.”

With a slow and deliberate sip, James Kreese tilts the cup against his lips, peering over the cup’s edge at all of the campers before him. He watches as they look down at their cups again, some grimacing and some snickering, ultimately deciding to drink. The blonde keeps his eyes locked on the older man, watching with a simmering dismay as the man smiles confidently.

A sudden movement and crash of the door pulls his attention away, his head swiftly turning to see the shoulders of the tall freckled boy disappearing through the front door and out into the night. Quicker than he would have guessed, the blonde Deputy shoves past him and runs out after the boy; Claire barely catches the door before it slams against the wall a second time. She quietly closes the door and stands in front of it, locking it for extra measure.

Johnny hears a heavy ‘thud’ hit the floor before another and another, his frantic eyes watching in a twisted fascination as each camper falls to the floor around him, their bodies curling inward over their knees or arching backwards, their limbs stretching and splayed out against the dark wooden floor. All of their eyes catch the candlelight in an eerie glow, only the whites appearing in their wide sockets. They breathe rapidly, harshly, and whine in some mix of pain and pleasure.

“Don’t be afraid; listen to the angel’s words and it will all be over soon,” James croons over them, his eyes glimmering sharply in the flickering light. Johnny turns to the older man, shaking his head in disbelief, as James smiles at him. His canines are much longer and pressing precariously against the soft inner flesh of his bottom lip. Johnny’s eyes widen as he sees the man’s fingernails darken and stretch slightly against the white paper.

“Like I said, John, we need the strongest among us. However-” James steers his silvery eyes towards the brunette terrified and tied up against the wood-paneled wall, “Mr. LaRusso- Daniel, as the angel wants you to call him by- is a weakness of yours. And I will not allow weakness in this movement.”

The older man crumples up the empty paper cup in his fist before turning to the shorter boy behind him. Johnny steps forward quickly, hissing in warning as the larger man holds up a placating hand. He holds out a hand, taking a small knife from Manny, before cutting the ropes around Daniel’s feet and torso. He hands back the knife, helping the boy remove the torn ropes from around him.

Daniel lets the ropes fall to the floor in a heap, yanking the bandanna from around his neck and tossing it angrily. He glances between James Kreese and Johnny, most likely trying to figure out how to escape, if Johnny had to guess. James seems to ignore these furtive glances and motions for Johnny to step closer, to join them. Not necessarily wanting to, Johnny acquiesces, knowing it would allow him to stand closer to the other boy. To hopefully protect him if he needed to fight. James places his hands on their shoulders, one pinning Daniel against the wall, and the other holding Johnny slightly away.

“John, unless he joins us, we can’t keep him around. He will continue to corrupt you and any others that may not understand what we are doing here,” James nods to the cup still in Johnny’s hand, “I need you to prove that you can be strong. That you have our best interests in mind, and Daniel’s, too.”

Johnny stares back at the taller man, frowning in utter terror and hurt, as the man’s words echo in his head. James’ face morphs into that of his sensei, John Kreese, the same hard lines cutting through his face and the same rough voice commanding him to do something he didn’t want to do.

He slides his eyes over to Daniel, meeting those dark brown eyes in the dim candlelight, silently pleading with him to run away. To run away and leave all of these strict and controlling men behind him.

But where would he go? Who would he run to? Sid? His mom? Bobby or Jimmy? Who would stand behind him when he fell? Who would stand in front of him when he needed protecting? His vision swims and those dark doe eyes glare back at him, standing in front of a smaller Japanese man with a tight-lipped smirk.

He has someone behind him. I need someone, too.

You have me. And Kreese. And Manny and Claire. We are all here for you.

“John, give the blood to Daniel,” James Kreese orders, his voice quietly whispering in his ear. “Prove to me that you’re worth it.”

Johnny’s breath shudders as he looks back at the shorter boy, the dark streak of blood lining his temple and cheek. He takes a shaky breath and nods his head. Lifting the small cup between them, Johnny catches the brunette’s eyes. He winks quickly before tilting the cup back, downing the blood in one gulp.

“No!” Kreese exclaims, letting go of the smaller boy and grabbing onto the front of Johnny’s cropped hoodie with both hands. Johnny tries to push off the large hands now tangled in the fabric. His hands pawing uselessly against the calloused hands before they fall limply to his sides, his throat and chest burning as the freezing cold seeps into his lungs and heart. His ribs cramp and his back muscles knot together, the icy hellfire shooting through his arching chest.

A cold wave of dark water washes through his skull, like a brain freeze whenever he drinks a Slurpee too fast. The wave crashes around in his skull, the water washing over his vision and pulling him down.

~wElcom~e, chi~ld. ~you hAve g~rown so m~uch since we firsT sp~oke.

He opens his eyes, finding himself floating among tall stalks of seaweed. The water around him is dark and murky, no light reaching him. He looks towards the dark silhouette before him, its eyes glowing silver as it hovers in the weeds.

'I think I remember you… Are you the angel?'

It swims forward slightly, still hidden among the seaweed forest; its long arms and legs catching some phantom light and glimmering with an ethereal glow.

yes, we sp~eak in drea~ms, but iT is someti~mes so Hard to focu~s on the meanin~g wh~en we are a~wake. tell me, why did you dEny you~r fr~iend my gift?
'I- He isn’t like… He isn’t like me, he’s better than me- better than this.'
be~tter? don’t we w~ant the best?
'Yes, but… I don’t want him to be- to become like me.'
~are you aFrai~d we’ll love him m~ore?
'What?! No! It’s not that, I-'
are y~ou afraid he’ll be bett~er at ev~erythIng~? that he’ll alw~ays have w~hat you deSire~?
'No! I mean, no- yes, but not like that.'
w~ould it be ~better if he w~as gone?
'Gone from here? …Yes.'
you~ fas~cinate me, cHild.~

The angel pushes backwards in a lazy stroke, letting some invisible current pull it along. Johnny shakes his head, a few bubbles escaping through his lips and neck. He swings his arms forward, trying to catch up to the celestial being. As he swims further into the seaweed and kelp forest, long tendrils reach for him, tangling his legs and arms in their vines. He pulls and pulls, trying to will his limbs free. He feels his chest expand in effort, his collarbone pushing against his muscles and skin, tearing through them like a blade of bone. With the white-hot pain now searing through his shoulder, a sudden wave of anger overcomes him.

As a weed catches onto the front of his hoodie, he feels his fingernails stretch and pull, the bone of his fingers detaching and reattaching with a fluid snap of pressure and pain. He swipes at the vine, backing away from its torn and now feeble reach.

The dark water around him darkens for a second before a warm flickering light draws his attention. He feels his feet stumble under him onto a hard surface, wooden and worn. His vision is tinged with red as he stares wordlessly at the flickering candlelight, smelling the thick dust and terrified sweat around him. He licks his lips around elongated teeth, relishing in the scent of death still lingering in the air.

Something shifts away from him, and like a hungry and caged animal, his head whips towards the sound, observing a large robed shadow stepping backwards, clutching his forearm tightly.

Drip drip.

He languidly watches the dark liquid pool on the surface of the man’s arm, dripping down along his dark hairs and falling tantalizingly slow down onto the wooden floor at his feet. The coppery scent of blood fills his nostrils and he inhales deeply, feeling the warm air around his clammy neck rush into him through the slits on his throat.

Another shift and his eyes lock onto the smaller robed figure, his hood having fallen back revealing his dark curly hair. Manny’s glowing eyes are wide with fear, a small blade held in his hand and pointed towards the smaller brunette by the wall.

With a growl, Johnny slides a foot forward, his sneaker scuffing the wood slightly, as he crouches in warning. The Hispanic young man freezes, a bead of sweat forming along his dark eyebrow, threatening to spill over. Johnny hears and smells the others in the room, soft groans tearing through their throats as they start to come to.

What will you do?

The blonde shifts his gaze between the two older men, his long legs itching to pounce and lunge for their stupid faces.

“J-Johnny?” he narrows his eyes on the brunette, his head tilting slightly as if to ask, ‘who?’ Daniel pushes off the wall, not breaking eye contact as he walks over the cut ropes by his feet. He walks slowly towards the taller boy, his hands up and open. It would be so easy to take him down…

How would you do it?
Let him reach out, grab his wrist and trip him with my leg, grab onto his hair and pull him over my hip and knee, pinning him against me as I tear his throat out.

Daniel takes another step, moving in front of Kreese now. The candlelight catches the soft curves of his shoulders, creating shadows under his jaw and cheeks. He steps forward again, slowly, reaching his right hand out towards the blonde.

Will you do it?

With a snarl, Johnny grabs onto the shorter boy’s wrist, ignoring the yelp of surprise and pain. He pulls the boy to his chest and stretches his legs to one side, turning towards the door and Claire with a deadly glare. The ponytailed blonde’s eyes widen in sheer terror and anger as she scampers to the side, falling against the nearest bunk and scrambling to put distance between them. She hisses in fear as he rushes towards the door, clawing at the knob and flinging it open.

He runs through the doorway, leaping over the porch steps, yanking the shorter boy along. He lands on the dirt path in front of the cabin, Daniel stumbling next to him. Not letting go, Johnny feels the cool summer night breeze against his warm skin and rolls his head along his shoulders in respite. The sharp sounds of crickets and cicadas cry out all around him and he even spots a dark shadow fly overhead, a dark brown owl hunting for its next meal. The trees sway gently, beckoning him to run into their cover, to shed his fear and hurt and human emotions. To run free and unrestrained in the dark.

A low rumbling growl hums in his chest before he feels a soft and warm hand touch his. Snarling, he tightens his grip, peering down at the brunette beside him.

“Johnny? Johnny, I-” Daniel stutters, clearly trying to think of what to say. “C’mon, man. Let go of my arm, okay?” The blonde narrows his eyes, his lips twisting into a frown as the long fang-like teeth protruding from his upper gums poke uncomfortably into his bottom lip. Daniel holds his stare, trying to smile politely at the taller boy, but the apparent fear is etched into every feature.

Rolling his eyes, Johnny drops the boy’s tan arm as if it were too hot to hold, turning away in repulsion. He starts to walk away from the cabin quickly, not sure where he’s going and not really caring. A few seconds later, he hears the annoying footfalls follow him, running to meet his stride. He purposefully walks quicker, utilizing his long and supernaturally agile legs to climb the hill towards their cabin, forcing Daniel to run up after him.

“J-Johnny, stop-”

The blonde ignores the Jersey boy’s calls, his vision pulsating with each step. Another breeze cuts through him, his damp hair tickles the back of his neck and he shivers. Slowly, a burning and throbbing pain sparks in his shoulder, trailing down his arm and settling into the joints of his fingers. A sharp cold pain cuts through his gums, causing him to gasp.

“...Johnny?” The blonde’s breathing quickens, matching the pulse of pain and hunger coursing through him. He clutches onto his arm, his icy fingers running over strange shards of extended bone along his forearm and shoulder. He struggles to take in another breath, the air suddenly empty and unreachable.

He falters just outside of cabin 7, his legs growing numb with cold as his head swims. He tries and tries to capture a breath in his lungs, anything to stop the burning hold in his chest. His vision blinks in and out of focus as he snarls in annoyance.

“Johnny? You okay, man? Or, uh, not really okay but ya know what I mean… right?” With a breathy growl, he turns his head towards the other boy. His thoughts darken as he steps slowly towards the brunette.

Daniel throws his hands up again, stumbling over the steps backwards towards the front door. Johnny tries to keep him in his sights, rasping as he slouches, curling in around his hollow chest. He steps forward, his feet barely catching the step and lifting him up and over it. And again, he trudges forward over the steps in the pale lamplight.

The brunette backs up into the door, opening silently behind him with no struggle. He breaks eye contact to peer back at the sleeping bunks directly behind him. With a wince, he turns his head back to the lumbering blonde. Johnny pushes his legs under him one at a time, his glazed and shimmering eyes locked on the shorter boy.

The ground darkens under his feet as he walks through the doorway, warped and smelling of old detergent. He keeps moving, the burn in his chest forcing him forward. He watches as the brunette backs away from him still, his shoulders bumping lightly against the wooden posts of the bunks around them.

As he stalks Daniel, forcing the boy to hide in the bathroom, Johnny stops. He wheezes, staring straight ahead at the shadowed monster standing before him. Its left side looks to mirror human anatomy, lanky leg and arm hanging down. But its right side is a grotesque silhouette of sharp angles and neon spots, an amalgamation of animal bones twisted together in some warped Picasso painting. He wheezes an angry growl from his throat, throwing a weak and wild fist towards the creature.

Before he can spot the monster’s own fist coming towards him, a pair of arms wrap around his arm, dragging it down and into the sink. His head slumps forward with momentum, barely thudding against the glass of the mirror. With a snarl, he throws his shoulder towards the side, the sharp bone slicing towards the brunette boy, just barely missing him as he falls backwards.

Johnny steps towards him, a slow and tantalizing chase as his vision blurs and rocks side to side with each step. The ground under his shoes changes again, smoother and pale, tiled like pieces of a puzzle. One leg starts to give out, but he catches himself, his weight lowering dangerously towards his knees. He stumbles forward, looming over the crawling boy.

With another gasp, he feels the ground suddenly fall, forcing him to land on his discolored hands and knees. Daniel presses himself against the wall, trying to leverage himself back up to his feet. Johnny reaches a long clawed hand towards him, snagging on the shoulder seam of his shirt. He yanks the smaller boy down, his tanned arms grasping at the cold faucet next to his head.

With a squeal, a strange vibration rumbles through the wall before falling onto his head and shoulders. He tilts his head against the cool tiled wall to his left and closes his eyes, the rainfall of water from the shower pelting his face with a refreshing coolness.

As the water runs down his face and soaks into his clothes, he feels the water surround him, seep into him. He takes a shuddering breath, relishing in the yielding release in his chest as his lungs fill with air again.

His senses dull: the only sounds he hears is the shower and their breathing, the only scent he smells is the warm sweaty body in front of him, and the only thing he feels is the cold tile under him and the cool water drenching his hair and clothes.

The memories of tonight, of today even, come back to him in a rush. The heavy emotions overwhelm him and a sob rips through his raw throat. He ducks his head down, falling into a sopping wet heap, his tears mixing with the water and swirling down the drain nearby. A burning pain blossoms up and down his arm and chest as his bones shift and squish back under his skin and muscles. His gums burn as the long fangs slip back under the tissue, shifting under his nasal cavities and pressing against his jaw bone. He can still feel the holes on the sides of his throat, breathing gently as his heart starts to calm down with each escaping sob.

A cool hand pets the back of his hair, another rubbing slow and small circles on his back. He doesn’t want to move, he doesn’t want this comfort to disappear. He doesn’t want Daniel to leave him. So he stays huddled on the shower floor, his head falling tiredly onto the other boy’s lap.

Eventually the water becomes too cold, his shoes too wet, and his fingers swollen with moisture. Johnny shifts his legs under his hips, finally pulling away from the only thing keeping him sane right now.

Before he can sit up straight, those cold and darker hands grip onto the front of his hood, yanking him forward and crashing against soft lips. He leans his weight on his hands, both placed on either side of Daniel’s hips under him. He closes his eyes, feeling the brunette press harder against him. Johnny gasps for breath, the smaller boy parting his lips and slipping his tongue against his teeth. Johnny breathes hungrily through his nose, the adrenaline and need controlling his hands as he jerks the brunette’s hips against his.

The blonde slips cold fingers under his shirt, delighting in the shocked gasp from the other boy as he presses them against his stomach. He trails his fingernails up to Daniel’s ribs then back down to his hip bone, just peeking out over the hem of his shorts and underwear.

Their tongues wrestle for control, grazing along Johnny’s sore gums and smashing into the back of his teeth. Daniel huffs under his breath as he feels Johnny winning. Again. The brunette pulls the blonde over him more, forcing Johnny to sit up and kneel over the other boy. Once he’s off his legs, Daniel wraps a leg around the back of his thigh before pushing him down, rolling on top of him. Johnny smirks against the kiss, knowing he could easily get out of the roll, but he stays. He lets Daniel take the win. For now.

The brunette, now in control of his bully, his friend, his- whatever they were- tangles his fingers in the blonde’s wet hair, tugging on it as he places small kisses along his cheek and jaw. Johnny feels him falter when he reaches the gill-like slits on his throat. Pouting, he releases one hand from under the brunette’s shirt, pulling Daniel’s chin up and capturing his soft and swollen lips again. Daniel seems to approve, gripping and rubbing the blonde’s chest and arms through his torn hoodie.

Breaking for more air, Johnny lets his head fall back against the tiled floor, grimacing at the onslaught of water on his face. He hears Newark giggle before climbing off of him, reaching up to turn off the faucet. The water stops, a few drops still falling onto Johnny’s flushed cheek as he lays there, thankful for the cold water drowning his hot and needy skin.

“Here,” Daniel holds a hand out for him to take, pulling himself up into a sitting position. The brunette grabs a couple of towels from the cabinet, playfully dropping one over the blonde’s head. Johnny smiles to himself under the starchy towel before calming his heartbeat and pulling the towel away. He runs it over his face and through his hair before looking down at his soaked clothes.

“Well, c’mon, give us a show,” Daniel laughs, rubbing his own towel through his wet dark hair. Johnny gives him a sarcastic smile before getting to his feet, his toes squishing uncomfortably against the water-drenched sole in his shoe. He reaches back with a grimace and peels the soaked hoodie from his now chilly skin, his shirt following along. Now bare-chested, he hears an appreciative whistle from the other boy’s lips. He promptly tosses his wet clothes into Daniel’s face, laughing under his breath as the brunette yelps and flings it to the floor.

“Wow, what a gentleman…” Daniel says with a deadpanned frown. Johnny smirks and unbuttons his shorts, sliding the wet denim down his hips slowly. As he kicks them off, bending down to remove his shoes and socks, he catches the shorter boy blushing brightly, failing to pay attention to his own clothes.

“Here, let me help you, idiot,” Johnny rolls his eyes and walks over to Daniel, reaching down to pluck the shirt from around his shoulders.

“Thanks, asshole,” the brunette mumbles as he keeps his head turned to the side, the heat from his cheeks warmly reaching Johnny’s colder chest. Johnny chuckles, purposefully standing very close as he rolls his arm and shoulder, inspecting the torn and puckered wounds. He watches it slowly stitch itself back together, dark muscle knotting over pale bone and under stretched skin.

“Looks like the uh, colors are fading,” Daniel speaks up, causing Johnny to look back at him. He clears his throat while he shrugs out of his wet shorts. “Your neck and face- they’re starting to look normal again.”

The blonde trails a now dried hand under his jaw, brushing against the raised ridge of skin along his throat. He feels it sink further in, the ridge barely peeking above the rest of his skin. He removes his hand, rubbing his fingers together as the color starts to recede back towards the nails.

“Maybe whatever you drank doesn’t last? Maybe you’ll be normal again tomorrow?” Daniel says hopefully, pulling a remaining sock from his foot. Johnny glances back at his healing shoulder and nods slowly.

“Yeah, maybe…”

“Well, I’m exhausted and cold,” Daniel slaps his hands against his thighs before gathering his wet clothes, dumping them into the laundry basket, “Let’s get changed and get to bed. Whatever happened today, we can talk about it in the morning and figure out a game plan.” He walks towards the exit before noticing that Johnny is still standing in the middle of the bathroom.

“Johnny?” The blonde’s head jerks up and his swollen blue eyes fall on the brunette. He follows the shorter boy into the other room, changing into pajamas and dry underwear before sliding into their sleeping bags.

Johnny feels the exhaustion seep into every corner of his body now that he’s laying down, but his mind feels too wired to sleep. He rolls his head to the side, catching small tremors shaking the brunette’s bunk.

“Newark,” Johnny whispers, the other boy’s damp head lifting off the pillow to roll over and look at him, “Come here, twerp.”

Daniel rolls his eyes but climbs out of his bunk, slipping into the blonde’s sleeping bag. He curls onto his side, trying to leave some distance between them. Johnny scoffs and scoots closer, wrapping an arm around the shorter boy’s stomach.

“This helps with hypothermia, right?” he mutters against the back of Daniel’s head, his nose pressing against his hair. The smaller boy shakes his head but before he can argue, Johnny tightens his arm. “Go to sleep, twerp.”

“Yeah, yeah, you too, asshole.”

–

As Johnny starts to fall asleep, the boy in his arms starts to whimper quietly. He loosens his hold, but Daniel stays asleep. He closes his eyes again, trying to relax against his pillow, before another whimper escapes.

He sits up and takes the tanned boy’s hand, rubbing small circles in his palm for comfort. He watches as Daniel’s long eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, his eyes moving as he dreams.

“Ngh…you’re gonna pay…stop Johnny…no mercy…” the brunette whispers, his fingers twitching in Johnny’s hand.

“An enemy deserves no mercy. Right?”
“Right!”

He remembers that night. Halloween night. The night he kicked Lardgfhjo’s ass and got his own ass kicked by that old sensei. He remembers how angry he was, how cruel he was when Daniel clearly had enough.

Before he can shake the boy awake, something scratches lightly against one of the windows across from them, waking another camper with a gasp. They gasp, sitting up, before wiping the sleep from their eyes. As they listen to the night sounds outside the cabin, they look around the room, glancing over the dark shapes in the bunks around them.

As their eyes graze over Johnny’s bunk, the blonde sits over the brunette protectively, staring back. The kid blinks and does a double-take. The older boy just stares back, unblinking.

“~g~o ba~ck to s~leep.”

Chapter Text

Johnny feels movement next to him, a soft stirring of warm fingers against his chest. He hears a small intake of breath, followed by slow and cautious shifting under the sleeping bag cover. Having gotten no sleep throughout the night, he is content to keep his tired eyes closed, just enjoying the warmth and scent of the waking boy next to him. He feels his dark eyes on him, a prickling sensation tracing all of the lines and details of his face. He also feels a hand move towards him, soft fingers brushing some blonde locks away from his eyes and nose.

The bunk creaks as Daniel slowly sits up next to him, pausing to make sure the taller boy’s still undisturbed and asleep. Johnny lays there quietly, the tips of his fingers now touching the hem of the brunette’s pajama shorts. With another shift, a small peck of soft and smooth lips grazes his cheek before the other boy slides out of his bunk.

Johnny starts to frown, wanting to open his eyes and call Daniel back, but he keeps up the ruse of pretending to be asleep. Something about the kiss felt off, the absence in his borrowed and ramshackled bed now feeling off. Daniel pads across the room and towards the bathroom, returning to his own bunk a few minutes later. He rummages in his duffle bag, searching for clean clothes, Johnny imagines. The blonde peeks an eye open, watching as the brunette gets dressed on the other side of the bunk bed, a flush of heat tinting his cheeks. His eyes linger on the dark colors peeking out from his hairline, the same dark blues and violets matching the thin raw lines around his wrists.

As Daniel pulls a burgundy shirt over his head, something outside catches his eye. He freezes, a confused, but determined look on his face. Johnny frowns against his pillow, but he can’t see anything from his bunk without getting up and startling him.

As the brunette creeps towards the front door and exits the cabin quietly, Johnny hurriedly jumps from his bunk and changes clothes, slipping into his still damp Converse. He steps towards the front door, but then decides to exit out the back door, in case the other boy is keeping an eye on the cabin.

He opens the door as quietly as he can, closing it swiftly behind him. The chilly morning air hangs low to the ground, his feet suddenly feeling colder in his wet shoes. Johnny creeps along the edge of the cabin, spotting the shorter boy pacing in front of the building. The blonde crouches behind a low draping tree as he watches Daniel start to walk up the hill towards the forest trail, looking around nervously. And suspiciously.

Stepping further away from the cabin, Johnny keeps the brunette in his sights, peeking back towards the quiet campground, and not seeing anyone, he follows along.

Keeping some distance between them, the lanky blonde dashes from one tree to another, lightly stepping around piles of fallen leaves and twigs as he quietly continues north. After some time, Daniel seems to grow less paranoid of what's behind him and more of what's before him, his stride growing more apprehensive as he steps off the path and walks deeper into the woods.

Johnny frowns in confusion, trying to map out their intended destination in his head, but his mind comes up blank. The cliff overlook is further north up the trail… Daniel is taking a wrong turn.

Johnny pauses. Wrong turn… just like Lifeguard Aaron did a few days ago.

His frown deepens as a solitary wind brushes by, its chilly bite against his nose warning him to turn around. The wind blows a few branches above him as it flees over the treetops, scattering morning light and pale shadows across his vision momentarily. He lifts his eyes to the jagged tips of the dark pines and grimaces at the yellowing sky beyond them. Something about the sun, the simmering heat or the endless light, concerns him. Not that he’s thought of it much, but something in him has changed. And something about the sun and all of that light worries him.

Johnny returns his attention to the woods, scouting around the pale birch trees and vibrant green shrubs for the smaller boy. He continues west for a few minutes, catching up to the nearby footfalls and snaps of detriment, before he finds himself on the old path towards the lonely and desolate cabin hiding among the trees. Just like the other two times he saw the cabin, he quickly spots the strange signage around the property, with different languages and unknown symbols warning trespassers of something within its walls.

As he gets closer to the cabin, its rusted barbed fence bowing over by the weight of dark and overgrown plants and vines, Johnny catches a glimpse of Daniel sneaking under a wooden pallet tangled in the wire fence, leaning against a tall totem pole of grotesque creatures stacked on one another.

The blonde hurriedly creeps towards the pallet, spotting a large hole in the fence and brush. Peeking around the totem pole first, he watches as Daniel slowly makes his way around the side of the cabin and past heaps of junk and withering plants, disappearing into the building’s shadow as he turns the corner.

With a deep inhale and resigned exhale, the taller boy pushes his hands and shoulders against the pallet, sliding and crawling over the fallen remains of the fence. It’s a tight fit, but luckily, he’s longer than wider, so his hips follow easily after his torso squeezes through.

Not caring to brush himself off or to examine any small cuts or scrapes that are now stinging along the backs of his knees, Johnny runs towards the side of the cabin where he last saw the brunette. He crouches below the boarded up and dust-caked windows, inching along the cabin side and the edge of a small dilapidated shed. When he reaches the end of the house, he peers around the corner, finding Daniel as the boy stops before a set of collapsing wooden steps leading towards an ill-fitting door patterned with various chains and deadbolts.

The blonde wants to whistle, to call out to the brunette, to call him back to the safety of their camp. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t make a noise or call out as Daniel climbs up the steps and tentatively knocks his knuckles against the splintered wood. He doesn’t do anything but watch; a slimy and greasy smear of distrust and dishonesty spreads throughout his mind as the boy knocks again.

Clunk. Clink clink clink.

A chain rattles against the door from inside, muffled sliding and scraping of lock bolts pulling away. The blonde notices that the shorter boy steps back from the door, almost falling back into one of the collapsed steps half-buried in weeds.

His eyebrows furrow as the door is yanked open, a long-limbed lumbering figure steps forward, in what looks to be a pair of aviation goggles and a set of Christmas pajamas, multiple patterns and colors thrown together in an unsightly patchwork of fashion. Under the long train of grey matted beard hair, the glint of a well-used shotgun loosely placed under his palm like a makeshift cane.

The old man gruffly glares down at the younger boy in front of him through the orange-tinted lenses.

“Uh, hey-um, hello,” Johnny hears Daniel stumbling over what to say, “I, uh- This might seem weird to hear, man, but uh… I think you called to me in my dream last night?” The brunette raises a hand to run against the back of his neck, awkwardly standing before this strange hermit in the middle of nowhere.

“Hmpf,” the old man huffs before turning away, leaving the door open behind him, “As if I’d call a kid to my humble abode. No, no. Not me. No sirree. Nicht der Mann, den du suchst. That was ol’ Mal’ahk Bokrug, if I had to guess.” The last of his words grows even more jumbled as he yells for the boy to close the door behind him, prompting Daniel to hurriedly enter and shut the door.

In the other boy’s absence, Johnny’s heart starts to race, his mind full of darkening thoughts. Who called Daniel here? Who is…Mal’ ack Book rug? Who is this old man? And why didn’t Larfhgwco confide in him?

He left you behind. Left you alone, and came to this dangerous place… Alone. Is that what you want? To stay here and be alone?

Johnny shakes his head angrily, trying to push down the swarming thoughts and trying to clear his mind so he can focus. The lanky boy listens to the voices within, moving from room to room, before he climbs over a sturdy portion of the porch railing, maybe the only sturdy portion as it all sways under his weight. Once the railing settles, he swings his long legs over the banister quickly before crouching under the nearest window.

Peering in between two haphazardly nailed boards, he sees a blurry movement of bright red and green pacing between rooms, followed by a darker burgundy figure slowly trailing behind. Their voices are contained in the walls, the blonde only able to make out a few sounds here and there. He looks across the porch and spots a broken window pane, only visible by the soft flutter of pale yellow plaid fabric through the opening. He hurries towards this further window, thankfully hearing the voices clearer as he kneels beside it.

“-interrupted me makin’ me breakfast,” the old man grumbles before Johnny hears the squeal of an old metal stool turning under his weight. “Ye hungry?”

“Oh, uh, nah, I’m good, man,” Daniel answers quickly before hesitating, “But, uh, what are you makin’ exactly?”

Johnny catches the loose curtain, or whatever the fabric is supposed to be, and pulls it to the side of the broken glass, settling his hand on the window pane as he peers into the dark room.

At some point, the room might have been used as a living room or a den, but now the room was, frankly, a laboratory. Filled to the brim with knick-knacks and survival gear, only a small circle in the corner of the room was clear of boxes, trinkets, and what Johnny really hoped were animal pelts only.

But the circle wasn’t just unfilled space; engraved in the floor boards, large scratches ran the diameter of the clearing, crossing and looping in intricate cuts and carvings. A large sigil. Similar to the ones he’s seen in some fantasy arcade games and movies. Old half-melted candles of varying colors and sizes sit in clumps on the floor at each point of a large star shape, while small carved rocks, dried herbs, and store-bought containers of salt sit within some smaller circles and triangles around the star.

Is this guy a Satanist or whatever the PTO moms are freaking out over?

Pulling his eyes away from the circle, he looks further into the mess, finding Daniel leaning over a grimy cooking pot and the hermit almost camouflaged against a moth-eaten tapestry slung over the mantle of an ancient stone fireplace. Old man Henderson adjusts his goggles, letting them fall back onto his aging face with a ‘snap.’ He picks up what looks like a trash-grabber with a wired lightbulb duct-taped to the end of it. He flips a switch on a small generator by his feet and the lightbulb glows.

“What’s it look like I’m doin’??” the old man smashes the end of the grabber against the stone fireplace, shattering the lightbulb’s glass and leaving only the exposed wire. “Makin’ me breakfast!”

Henderson suddenly plunges the broken lightbulb into the pot, causing Daniel to jump back in fear. Bright sparks cut through the surface of what Johnny can now see is murky water in the pot, a dark and pulsating shadow spins and swims around, small shocks and sparks emanating from its body and traveling through the metal pot. The electricity speeds along a twisted chain of metal wire wrapped around the lip of the pot, flying up towards the hanging cord of an old hair dryer. With each spark, the hair dryer spurts to life, the wires inside glowing orange before a rush of air exits. The dryer swaps limply from its electrified cording, the air pushing it in slow circles over what Johnny can only describe as a metal trashcan lid lined with the wired mesh of a handful of tennis rackets.

After the dryer warms the strange metal lid contraption, Henderson leans over a box and pulls out an old coffee can, a spoon sticking out of it. He gives the can a few stirs before pouring a light-colored batter onto the lid.

“Ye like waffles, kid?” the old man grins up at the brunette as the hair dryer drowns out his voice somewhat. The blonde watches the other boy shift his feet nervously, shoving his hands in his shorts’ pockets.

“Nah, not really…” Johnny smirks as Daniel clearly lies to the crazy man, “So, why am I here? You- uh, the Malack Bockrug- whatever, said something about needing my help? Something about a terrible evil making the camp counselors go crazy? And how we’re all doomed if I don’t help you?”

The old man picks his teeth with what Johnny thinks is a broken ruler, glancing at a nearby unpolished medieval helm staked onto a lopsided coat rack. Clearly bored, Henderson hums, now distracted by tinkering with the helm’s dented visor.

“Uh huh, big guy said tha,’ did it?”

“Yeah, I don’t remember much after that, since I just woke up and all, but I think I heard something about Operation…silly straws?” Daniel shoves his hands in his pockets sheepishly as he turns away from the old man to look into the metal pot on the floor.

“I think the words got all jumbled up or something, and like I said, I forget exactly what it said and all-”

“Operation: Silly Straws??” the old man jumps to his feet, tossing the ruler over his shoulder and into the heap behind him. Daniel backs away a few steps, suddenly aware of how close he was to this madman, if Johnny had to guess.

Old man Henderson leaps to his feet, quickly rummaging through another heap of junk. He mutters to himself in what Johnny can only imagine is German or Dutch, but it’s too muffled and frantic to tell.

With the old man’s back turned to Daniel and Johnny, the blonde boy quietly grips the window pane, gently and slowly pushing it up; the old paint chipping as the window shifts upwards. The torn weather stripping catches on a water-warped knot in the frame, forcing Johnny to apply more pressure with a grimace. The window resists and resists, a sinking feeling of surrender settles in Johnny’s stomach, before the pane shoots upwards, thumping free of the frame. The boy freezes, his fingers and arms clearly visible through the glass.

He lifts his head slightly, peering over the bottom window sill and into the room towards the other two. His eyes fall on Daniel first, his back still turned to the window but now standing slightly behind the doorway into another room, with good reason. His attention is suddenly snatched by the hunched over man; Henderson starts tossing loose objects over his shoulder haphazardly, clearly searching for something.

Johnny stands up, lifting his long leg through the open window slowly. Before he can lower his torso towards the opening, a rusted coffee can flies towards Johnny, crashing loudly against the inner wall next to his leg. Not wanting to risk bodily harm while the old man continues throwing things, the blonde decides to back out and stay put. Staying low, he tries to map out the rest of the cabin, wondering if there are any other windows he can climb through to get to Daniel.

Before Johnny can creep away to the other side of the cabin, he hears an excited, raspy exclamation tear from the old man’s throat. The blonde turns back to the room inside, watching as Henderson carries an arm-full of items over to the circular clearing directly in front of the window. Johnny ducks, keeping one eye locked on the hermit.

The old man drops the items on the floor, kneeling down next to them as he places them in certain areas of the symbol. A toy train with missing wheels in one point of the star shape, a broken record vinyl in another, followed by a dusty glass beer stein, a tattered polka-dotted bowtie, and finally, a plastic bony arm with three fingers. His eyes drift to a pathetic looking skeleton model hiding away in the opposite corner, now clearly missing one of its arms.

Man… and I thought Biology was rough…

Old man Henderson tugs a long tan trenchcoat over his patchwork Christmas pajamas before fishing in its pockets. He pulls out something shiny and from the familiar ‘click,’ Johnny watches him light the numerous stumps of candle wax with a Zippo lighter, dancing around the diameter of the circle as he lights all of the ashen wicks.

“Uh, what’re you doin’ now?” Daniel’s confused voice pipes up as he steps back into the room, keeping well away from the circle. “Ya know, maybe I was wrong- I mean, it was just a dream and all. Maybe I got the wrong pers-”

“Ye got ye fists about ye?” the old man stands, snapping the lighter shut and tossing it over his shoulder without looking at where it lands. Henderson whips around to the brunette, grabbing a hand-carved cane and a long Bowie knife from a nearby table.

“Uh,” Daniel backs away at the knife, but Johnny thankfully sees the old man tuck it into a pocket before gesturing the shorter boy closer. “I’m sorry, what?” Daniel takes one step closer. Then another.

Old man Henderson reaches a bony hand out towards Daniel and yanks him forward, positioning him within the circle. Daniel lets him, clearly not wanting to get into a fight with a crazy man with a knife.

“Fists! Fightin’! Dancin’ with thee ol’ one-two!” the old man hops around the shorter boy like a cartoonish boxer, pretending to feint a punch. The brunette shrugs, his body tight with nerves.

“Yeah, I do karate. Is that what you mean?” The old man sighs and settles opposite of the boy. Curiously, Johnny feels like the man is disappointed at the information. The blonde’s eyes narrow in offense.

“Alright, alright, guess tha’s fine,” old man Henderson shrugs dejectedly before clapping his hands together and closing his eyes. He mutters some mumbo-jumbo words as he raises his hands high over his head.

The candles flicker and flutter at their feet, disturbed by some invisible and ethereal wind. Johnny glances at a stack of sheet music on a nearby table, noticing that the pages aren’t moving. A whirl of stormy wind and the crackling of a staticky radio channel erupt. Johnny turns his attention back to the two in the circle, watching as their hair and loose clothing lifts up around them. A bright purple light reflects against Daniel’s skin and the blonde looks down towards a mound of candles by his feet. One by one, the small yellow flames burst with color, flaring with a vibrant purple color. The color sparks all around them until every candle is strangely violet.

The twirling winds and static speed up in the circle, twisting through the old man’s grey beard and hair and whipping his trenchcoat behind his legs. It tangles in Daniel’s dark hair and tumbles through his burgundy t-shirt and the hem of his shorts.

As old man Henderson opens his hands, letting them fall to his shoulders, a loud tearing noise rips through the air. Johnny feels the rush of sound pierce his eardrums, and he ducks behind the window, cupping his ears tightly with his hands. Against the wooden grain of the windowsill, a flash of purple and magenta light bounces back and momentarily blinds him. He blinks, bright neon colors trapped under his eyelids, before pulling himself back up.

Johnny blinks once more, a ring of fading color drifting from his vision as he peers back through the open window.

Just like it was a minute or two ago, the room sits in an unnerving stillness, its walls tantalizingly filled with mysteries and secrets to those stupid enough to go looking. But unlike a minute or two ago, two crucial things are missing from the dusty room of junk:

Old man Henderson and Daniel.

Chapter Text

A scowl rips through Johnny's face as he throws his legs over the window sill, hurdling through the small window and into the cramped hoarder's room. The sour burn of the anxious bile claws its way up his throat as he searches the room for the smaller boy, forcing himself to not believe the lie his eyes fell for seconds ago.

The blonde splays his hands against the soft worn wood, pressing his palms hard against the boards. They creak quietly, but don’t give. The dark scratches and swooping curves of the symbol swim under his fingers, surprisingly warm to the touch. He flinches, almost falling backwards before he settles his weight behind his knees, kneeling just outside of the circle.

He suddenly notices the scent of smoke and smoldering wax, lifting his head to watch the ghostly trails of silver unspooling into the air over the blown out candles.

It was just a trick. They knew I was watching.

You can’t trust them. It’s not safe here.

I can’t leave without Daniel…

You can’t trust him.

Johnny angrily shakes his head, grabbing the toy train closest to him and throwing it hard against the wall across from him. The plastic train bounces off the wood panel, one of the small wheels cracking and falling off upon impact. The toy falls against a tower of baskets, rolling along piles of clothes and bundled fabric until it comes to a teetering stop on the other side of the room.

Just seeing the toy land mostly upright, the blonde clenches his teeth and fists in unbridled rage. His heart pounds in his chest, panicking against the jail cell bars of his ribs. The room shifts around him, its walls closer than he remembered, the stupid boxes and junk piling high against the ceiling around him. The feeling of an icy cold finger trails down his neck, growing heavier as it circles around his collarbone. The weight drapes itself against his windpipe and coils tighter, pressing itself closer and closer against his clammy skin.

With a shuddering gasp, Johnny scrambles to his feet, clawing at his shirt with trembling discolored fingers, his long nails poking holes through the fabric.

The dusty air falls on his lips, clings to the inside of his mouth, and coats the sides of his throat like drying paint. He wheezes angrily, forcing a trapped breath of air out from between his aching teeth. His hands slide up his mutated neck, grazing over his clammy face, before they bury themselves deep in his hair. Tugging at the roots, he takes a painstakingly slow breath, his head growing dizzy with the fluctuation in oxygen flow. But with the next breath, he feels the cramped muscles in his back and shoulders start to relax.

After a few more calming breaths, and a few frustrated kicks to various objects around the room, the blonde feels his racing mind sink back into his weary body. Cringing at the yellowing morning light sneaking into the room through the open window and gaps between haphazardly nailed boards, Johnny paces throughout the cabin, merely cataloguing weird objects and strange ‘inventions’ while he figures out an excuse for the brunette’s absence and a gameplan for what he should do next.

As he kicks an old and dingy Mr. Coffee coffee pot across the uneven kitchen floorboards, a loud tearing noise cuts through the stagnant air, kicking up gusts of wind in the other room from the sounds of it. Johnny backs up against the kitchen wall, ducking his head under the swinging tail of a low mounted cat-shaped cuckoo clock. The boy covers his ears at the sound but keeps his eyes open, catching a flash of magenta light hitting the pale yellow kitchen door to his left. After about a second, the light fades away quickly and hoping the sound has also ended, he slowly uncovers his ears. At first, he can only hear his racing heartbeat pounding through his eardrums, until his ears perk at an unmistakably giddy exhale and laugh.

The blonde crouches down against the kitchen wall, the clock’s swaying tail rhythmically vibrating the wall softly. He grabs onto the stained doorframe and pulls himself closer to the edge of the wall, peeking into the other room with one eye.

Almost like a sick parlor trick, two figures stand exactly in the center of the circle, where they were last seen minutes ago; the room, again, smelling like smothered wax wicks and something strangely earthy and metallic.

Locking his gaze on the shorter boy’s back, Daniel seems to be in the same clothes as before, maybe his hair looking a little more disheveled. The older man, once in ill-fitting Christmas pajamas and a large tan trenchcoat, now stands opposite the brunette in bright blue denim bellbottoms and an equally bright orange paisley collared shirt under his trenchcoat. Small round orange-tinted sunglasses sit low on his hooked nose over his long and tangled beard.

Daniel runs a hand through his dark hair, Johnny spotting a couple of small dark bruises across his knuckles, before his eyes watch the old man step out of the circle and walk across the room to rummage through what looks like a large box of mildewy magazines and old textbooks.

“Okay, so we know where it’s gonna be, right?” the shorter boy talks fast and excitedly, not really asking a question before he continues rambling to the old man’s back, “And once we get your gnome back, we can use it to trap this Ka’gary-whatever - monster wherever and that’ll stop it from hurting more people.”

“Khagar’zax-” the old man grumbles with a disgustingly punctuated loud spit on the floor behind him. Johnny grimaces and glares, his body tensing for some unknown reason. “That damn wannabe god is nothin’ but a crazy woman’s Petri dish experiment. Once we get me gnome back, that’ll show these capitalist freaks what their god really is. A monkey in a wee’ cage.” Daniel nods quietly, leaving the circle to pace around the room in some strange look of awe. It sickens the blonde, a gnawing and twisting hunger in his gut as he watches the excited boy walk around the room in front of him.

A tower of boxes across the room topples over, the loud thuds of falling objects hitting the wooden floor, pulling the shorter boy’s attention towards the crazy old man in the corner. Pulling himself closer to the edge of the wall, Johnny leans his head around the doorframe, watching as the old man irritably grumbles and mumbles in what almost sounds like three different languages, cursing under his breath as he knocks more stuff onto the floor in a frenzy. The brunette walks up behind him, occasionally standing on his tip-toes to look over the older man’s shoulder.

“Uh, if we know where ya gnome thingy is, shouldn’t we head down there now? We could sneak in right after breakfast.

Breakfast. Johnny’s stomach rumbles at the thought of food. A flittering feeling of disappointment follows, the savory taste of freshly cooked fish tantalizing his tongue. His stomach groans again.

Ch-clink. The metallic sound of a rifle being cocked echoes throughout the cabin.

“Who’s in me house?” Old man Henderson swings around swiftly, an old hunting rifle heavy in his hands. He steps forward quietly, his beady eyes glancing around the room, searching for prey.

Johnny tries to slowly and silently pull himself back around the wall, holding his breath as he shuffles his feet further into the kitchen.

Creeeeak. His left foot falls on one of the uneven floor boards, the strain causing it to cry out under the pressure of his foot. He freezes, hearing the old man step forward quickly. He hears something like a metal toolbox or mailbox being ripped open, before the old man takes another heavy step closer to the kitchen.

“Ya got two secon’s before I blow ye ta kingdom come,” the old man pauses before the clear sound of a Zippo lighter flicks open. “One…tw-”

“Okay, okay!” Johnny squeezes his eyes closed as he yells out, his voice echoing in the dimly lit ramshackled kitchen. He holds his hands up, taking a sharp breath before he scrambles to his feet. Stepping through the doorway, he keeps his hands up, his blue eyes glaring at the stick of dynamite in the old man’s hand.

Old man Henderson snaps the Zippo shut, shoving the skinny red explosive into his trenchcoat before adjusting the rifle from his shoulder back into his gnarled, bony hands.

“Johnny?!” Daniel blurts out, hurriedly stepping around a collapsing couch covered in old tarps and stacked crates. The shorter boy steps forward with a shocked expression, before his next step falters. His expression twists in that of confusion before falling into a cold stare of distrust.

Wait. He doesn’t trust me?? I’m the one who shouldn’t trust him!

You can’t trust either of them.

This loser goes God-knows-where with this crazy lunatic and he doesn’t trust me??

Does his trust mean that much to you?

“Wh-what are ya doing here, Johnny?” the brunette shifts his weight to his other foot, placing his hands on his hips. The blonde lowers his hands, smirking at the ironic question.

“Funny, Newark,” he steps slowly into the room, carefully keeping an eye on the gun trained on him, “That’s exactly what I wanted to ask you.”

“How long have you been here, man?” Daniel’s dark eyebrows knit together, probably unsure of which excuse to try using on the taller boy. Johnny relaxes his shoulders and face, shoving his hands into his pockets before he hopes the old man notices the discoloration. He sheepishly smiles, tilting his head away from the brunette’s stare.

“I was worried about you, twerp,” Johnny almost whispers, “One minute I’m sleepin’, the next, I see you heading into the forest. I followed you up here, but I got caught in that damn fence. When I finally got free, I came in lookin’ for you. Did you not hear me calling out and knocking?” Something passes through Daniel’s expression, a satisfaction at how easy it’ll be to lie to Johnny, the blonde thinks.

Everyone always thinks I’m dumb and easy to lie to…

Prove them wrong.

“Ah, sorry about that, man,” Daniel shrugs, scuffing the toe of his show against the weathered wooden floor. “I woke up and heard this old guy-” he gestures vaguely to Henderson, his eyes begging the old man to lower the gun, “yeah, he was calling out in the woods looking for somethin’ of his, ya know? So I thought I’d get up and try helpin’ him look.”

The taller boy merely raises an eyebrow.

“You followed an old man back to his cabin…in the middle of the woods…alone?”

“I may be ol’ but I can still kick ye ass, beansprout!” The hermit finally lowers the rifle and huffs, muttering something in what could be German, as he digs into a nearby crate of junk. The blonde watches him for a second before turning back to Daniel.

Again, he raises his eyebrows, waiting for a better explanation from the shorter boy.

Daniel cracks under the stare and rolls his eyes, stepping closer to the blonde before whispering in his ear.

“This guy has something that can stop Kreese and whatever they’re actually doing here,” dark puppy eyes look up into his, wholly open and sincere. Johnny feels his fingernails dig into the soft flesh of his palm, tucked away out of sight. He breaks the gaze, turning back to the old man leaning over the crates on the couch. The old man pulls out a set of nunchucks, swinging them around before stuffing them into his other pocket. Johnny frowns as he spots what look to be throwing knives now peeking out of the top of his right boot.

“Once we get this gnome back-”

“Gnome?! What are you talkin’ about??” Johnny interrupts the shorter boy, his mask of ignorance slipping as he feels more and more annoyed at the situation.

“Oh, uh, it’s like this time-traveling, like, space thing,” Daniel rambles on, trying to describe a fucking garden gnome, “I mean, it’s definitely more complicated than just time and space and-”

“It’s me interdimensional gnome that Mal’ahk Bokrug gifted me years ago ta deal with this God-puppet. Ya don’t need ta know the details, ‘cause if ye did, ye be as crazy as me.” Old man Henderson pulls a paper-wrapped candy from the clutches of an out-of-shaped Slinky, popping it into his mouth with a childish giggle.

“Okay, let me get this straight…” Johnny turns back to the brunette with a frown, his hands now balled into fists on his hips, “You followed a crazy old man to his cabin in the middle of the woods to find a space garden gnome that someone- something gave him…in order to stop the weird cult happening at our summer camp? Did I get all of that?” His face and neck feel warm with anger as he watches the shorter boy think over the words before nodding in agreement.

Johnny raises his hands, letting his face fall into them.

“Okay, so where’s this stupid gnome that’s supposed to save the day?” He mumbles through hands, surrendering to the stupidity of whatever Daniel has gotten him into.

"Uh, the kitchen…” Daniel answers with a strange edge to his voice. Johnny slides his hands down his face and peeks out over the tops of his fingers.

“His kitchen?”

Daniel shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck suspiciously.

“It’s kinda in the freezer…in the kitchen in the main lodge at camp…” the brunette cringes as the taller boy groans. How the hell are we going to get in there without James Kreese or Manny or Claire spotting us first?

Ch-clink. Johnny and Daniel slowly turn their eyes to the old man standing at the entrance of the living room, his cocked rifle leaning against his shoulder as he spits out the still-wrapped candy.

“Ye boys ready ta go?”

“No, no- no! Absolutely not!” The blonde waves his hands through the air in front of him, shaking his head vigorously.

“Johnny, we need to get the gn-”

“Don’t you dare- if I hear the word one more time, I’m gonna lose it!” The taller boy snaps back at Daniel. “If it’s really in the kitchen freezer, I’ll go in and get it. We can’t let everyone at camp panic because a crazy man with an arsenal breaks into the main lodge while they’re doing art and crafts or whatever.” He points a sharp discolored finger towards Henderson before he realizes what he’s doing. With a glare, the blonde tucks his fingers away and passes the hermit with his creepy beady eyes, slamming the front door open against the wall before stomping down the cabin steps and back out into the woods.

–

Regardless of the warm sunlight scattering through the bright green leaves overhead and the sweet sound of birds calling to one another, the walk through the forest is quiet and tense. Johnny leads the way through the trees, hiding a smirk as he purposefully lets some thinner branches swing back and slap Daniel in the arms and chest when he’s not looking. The shorter boy protests at first, but after one dark look from the blonde, he grumbles quietly to himself, letting the taller boy take out his frustrations on him.

Soured by a lack of response from the shorter boy, Johnny sighs and stops bending the twigs he passes. He much prefers the closeness of the boy behind him than Daniel retreating farther behind. So, they surrender to awkwardly walk next to each other, quietly and steadily.

Once they reach the edge of the campgrounds, the morning sun shines happily over the clearing dotted with picturesque cabins and brightly colored flags. The boys both wince as their thoughts go to the dark and brutal events of last night.

Immediately, the mood turns serious and calculating. Johnny crouches low in the brush, scouting the fire pit and archery range for any of the campers and counselors from last night’s meeting. Not seeing anyone, he unthinkingly grabs onto Daniel’s shirt, steering him around the clusters of trees and large boulders along the hillside. Daniel doesn’t pull away.

Stopping at the back door to their cabin, they peer inside and find the building empty. The brunette mouths, ‘breakfast,’ and they both nod in understanding. The blonde motions for Daniel to creep along the edge of the cabin towards the thick brush along the trail.

Before he follows the smaller boy, his eyes latch onto the scratch marks just under the window. Barely visible red and blue paint streak through the scrapes. He rolls his eyes at the absurdity, sneaking away from the building.

They slowly make their way down the hillside by going behind all of the cabins, sticking to the treeline and thick bushes lining the clearing. The sounds of excited and loud and obnoxious children echo through the trees as the campers leave the main lodge for their day’s first activities. Johnny and Daniel crouch behind the southern wall of cabin 1, the tall lodge in their sights. They wait and wait, watching as some of the counselors leave the building with buckets of supplies or clipboards. A few even blow their whistles at some kids who start to push and shove each other playfully.

The boys wait and wait, waiting until they finally see James Kreese and Counselor Freddie leave the lodge, walking casually towards the Leadership cabin next door. Just seeing the older man’s back and hearing the dull, deep voice fading as he walks, makes the blonde freeze and hold his breath.

It takes a very bony nudge from Daniel’s elbow to pull his attention away from the cu- camp leader. The shorter boy quietly counts to three in his ear, the signal for them to run to the main doors straight ahead. As the brunette’s lips make out the shape and sound of “three,” Johnny takes a deep breath, before standing up and sprinting into the sunny morning.

His long legs propel him forward quickly, stretching over the dark asphalt and loose gravel until his feet land on the large wooden porch. Feeling a slight bump against his back, he knows that Daniel made it across without incident.

They hold their breaths for a moment, straining to hear or see anyone around them who may have noticed them running. Nothing.

With heavy sighs, the blonde turns his attention to the glass panel set in the door, peering into the lodge for any stranglers or classes taking place. Nothing.

Johnny nods to Daniel before pulling one of the heavy wooden doors open, just enough for them to slip inside.

The main lodge looks just like it does every morning, bright light streaming in through the large windows, skating over the long and old beams across the ceiling and brushing over the cozy and worn furniture in front of the dark and cold fireplace.

Passing quickly by the folding tables and chairs, their ears perk up to the sounds of the kitchen staff cleaning up. The faint scent of eggs and bacon linger in the building, causing both of their stomachs to grumble. The blonde waves them into an alcove where the building’s restrooms are hidden, giving them space to plan quietly but still be able to keep an eye on all doors.

“They’re gonna ask why we’re sneaking around the kitchen…” Johnny whispers, checking the kitchen door before looking down at the brunette. “Got a better excuse than following an old man into the woods?”

“Hey, I wasn’t lying, asshole,” Daniel quietly bites back, punching the taller boy in the side with no real anger, “And maybe one of us goes in? The other could be a distraction?”

“Distract them how?” Johnny rolls his eyes. Any one of the kitchen staff could potentially rat them out to James. And who knows what the punishment might be? Death?? Flashes of bluish lips and pink saliva emphasize the danger they could face.

“There! Look-” Daniel eagerly spins the blonde around, pointing towards one of the serving windows where an old woman wipes down the counter. “She likes you, right? Talk to her! Or ask her to give you breakfast, whatever… If you can distract her, maybe the others will just think I’m with you, and I can slip into the freezer when they’re not looking.”

Johnny takes in the older woman, her soft smile never faltering as she hums pleasantly to herself. Maybe this could work…

Just as he thinks this, she blinks owlishly before looking up in his direction. He panics and takes a step back into the alcove, cursing at how suspicious that must look. He pointedly glares down at the smaller boy who looks at him with assurance.

“This better work, Newark…” he mutters between his teeth before stepping out into the dining area. As he sheepishly looks back towards Crazy Edna, he gives a shy wave before walking up to the window. She watches with a smile. Unblinking.

The blonde smiles back, sensing Daniel right behind him.

“H-hey, Edna,” he stammers out, trying to silence his brain’s fear of getting caught, “How are you doing this fine and beautiful morning?” The old woman sets down the damp rag and wipes her hands on the blue apron tied around her waist. She keeps smiling at both boys.

“Didn’t see you at breakfast, blue eyes,” her unblinking eyes trail from Johnny’s face to Daniel’s, he assumes. “Or your friend. You boys aren’t up to anything, are you?”

Johnny forces himself to meet her eyes, feigning confusion. He really hopes that the twerp is selling it too…

“What? Up to something?” he frowns in mock hurt, “No, no, nothing like that! We kinda- well, we overslept and were kinda hoping there might still be food left over?” He smiles innocently, catching a glimpse of the brunette chewing on his nail next to him.

Edna looks at them again, slowly, without change in her expression.

“Oh, blue eyes, I could never say no to you,” she claps her hands together and turns away, walking around the shelves towards the sinks. “Well, c’mon, if you’re gonna sleep in, you’re gonna serve yourselves and do your dishes afterwards.” Johnny glances over at the brunette, nodding before they quickly walk into the kitchen after her.

Crazy Edna points out the bins of lukewarm eggs and homestyle potatoes, telling them where to find plates and silverware. The boys follow her instructions, stepping around Greasy Gus, the cook with long, greasy dark hair and sallow eyes, almost tripping over his broom as he sweeps the floor suspiciously around their feet. They awkwardly smile at him, waiting until he turns away to sweep under the counters.

Taking Daniel’s tray in his other hand, Johnny watches out of the corner of his eye as the shorter boy backs up towards the pantry closet, trying to unlatch the freezer door behind his back. Hearing the squeaking of the old latch, Johnny clears his throat and steps closer to Edna.

“Uh, I was wondering what was on the lunch menu today?” he says a little louder than normal. Another squeak and something ‘tings’ against the metal door. Okay, he’s got it open…

Crazy Edna smiles mischievously, crooking her finger towards the blonde as to divulge a secret. He leans in, hearing the door ‘hiss’ open behind them.

“Would you prefer freshly cooked fish to those powdered eggs?” Her eyes slide up to meet his, dark and inviting.

Fish. His stomach growls loudly at the thought; his mouth starts to salivate at the memory. Without even noticing the movement, he nods his head. He’s so hungry.

The old woman smirks and walks towards a large industrial oven, putting on a pair of grey quilted mitts before opening the door and pulling out a tray of roasting slices of fish. The scent immediately hits him and he almost falls to his knees. Setting down the plastic trays in his hands without a care, he takes the plate of fish she offers and tears into it with a supplied fork.

The steam escapes the flesh and warms his lips as he holds it out in front of him. Shoveling the flaky meat into his mouth, he barely feels the scorching heat against his tongue and cheeks. The taste fills his mouth, his mind, his control. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thinks that he came here for some other reason, but the taste of the fish tells him that this was the only reason.

Bite after bite, he feels a calmness swaddling his mind, soothing his limbs. If someone were to ask him, in this exact moment, he would have no idea what fear or anger or sadness meant. Bite after bite, his mind floats up into the clouds, where other minds greet him, hug him. Bite after bite, he feels connected. He feels whole.

When he scarves down the last bite, Edna’s pale, caring hands take the plate from him, wiping his hands with a towel. She smiles up at him, patting his cheek lovingly.

“You know that what they’re doing is dangerous. That if they succeed, it will not only destroy the angel, my child, but it’ll destroy all of our lives,” Johnny blinks and meets her stare, finding only worry and unadulterated love in her eyes.

Love.

That’s right… love. Just like you, I never knew what that meant until she taught me.

She nods, agreeing to some fleeting thought, before she wraps a thin and cold hand around his upper arm, lightly turning him away.

“Don’t think about the church, don’t think about the camp,” she whispers, letting her fingers fall as he steps forward. “Think about all of us, my beautiful boy.”

His sneakers pad across the tiled floor as the large metal door swims closer in his vision. Through the freezing opening, he sees the other boy pop up behind a shelf, holding a garishly painted garden gnome high above his head. The blonde stands in the doorway, smiling at the brunette as he steps closer.

Daniel’s boyish cheeks are tinged pink and his pouty bottom lip trembling slightly with cold. But he gives Johnny a large, cocky smile, holding out the gnome for the taller boy to see. The blonde takes the ceramic creature in his fingers, feeling the rough texture under the smooth paint. He nods and continues smiling, clearly the loser.

With a step backwards, Johnny reaches out and grasps the handle of the door, swiftly shutting it closed. The latch falls, forcing the metal bolt securely in the lock. His smile fades as he looks through the small window in the door, watching as Daniel anxiously shakes the handle before pounding on the door.

“Johnny, man?? Johnny?!” His muffled yells grow louder as Johnny steps back towards Edna. He holds the statue out for the older woman to take.

“Why?? Johnny, what are you doin’, man?!” The blonde turns backs to the door, seeing a terrified face staring back at him.

“I’m sorry, Lawgshfg- LaRusso,” he stumbles through the clouds in his mind, his lips trying to say something his mind can’t hear. “I’m sorry, Daniel.”

“Come, dear, I want you to meet my son,” Edna starts walking away before a quiet voice stops her.

“Edna, is this right?”

The old woman ropes an arm around his elbow, pulling him a step back from the freezer. “Now, now, no need for those silly names. You can call me Regina,” she smiles up at him, unblinking. “He may be the owner of this camp, but you don’t need to call him Mr. Pritchard, alright? You can just call him, Jerry.”

The blonde boy furrows his eyebrows in confusion, but a faint whisper coerces his mind to let it go. He takes one last look at the door, at the window in the door, at the scared face in the window.

I’m sorry… I need to keep you safe.