Before I Forget

Napoleon

I'm sorry for everything.

The things I said to you that night were all lies. I said them just to make you leave and because I'm an asshole. I'm so sorry.

I know I am a fucking idiot. You deserved better.

I just wish I could take it all back. I miss you like Hell.

When you get better and get to go home, can we please talk? I love you. I never stopped loving you.

Hawk knew that letter was crap. It was barely a letter at all, just a short note, but he had used the last sheet of paper he had (all the previous ones were crumpled in balls and thrown all over the floor and the seats of his car) so it would just have to do.

It had taken him hours to write it, while he sat in his car that was parked on the street in front of Sky's house. There were so many things he wanted to say - but writing had never been his forté, and now more than ever, he struggled to find the right words. He knew Sky wouldn't want to read any of his pathetic excuses anyway - they didn't matter. He wasn't sure what mattered, except that he was sorry and that he loved her - so he had written just that, knowing very well it was inadequate. Maybe the things he had done could never be undone, no matter what Moon had said - that he just needed to apologize–

Which he now was going to do. Maybe this time Sky would actually listen, unlike that time in the English classroom when he had tried to tell her he was sorry, but it had ended up with her rushing out of the room, tears in her eyes. He could only hope this letter was enough, that when reading it, Sky would know he truly meant it. And if she wrote him back - then he could explain more, then he could tell her that if she was willing to give him another chance, he would quit Cobra Kai.

For her.

For her, he would fucking cut out his heart.

He gave the letter a last read-through, letting out a silent curse. What he had written was short and awkward - he wished he possessed more talent with words, that he was smoother, finer, better - because Sky deserved a real love letter, not this crap. Even his handwriting looked stupid, like the note was written by a fucking first-grader.

What does it even matter? She probably won't even read this.

With a sigh, he folded the paper and stuffed it into an envelope Moon had given him, wrote Sky's name on top, and stepped out of his car, feeling a nervous lump in his throat.

He had barely pressed the doorbell when the door opened.

Nicholas was wearing the silly apron that said "Don't be upsetti, eat some spaghetti" that Hawk remembered all too well, and holding a wooden pasta ladle in his hand. Everything about him was so familiar that the sight cut through Hawk's chest like a knife - in a heartbeat he remembered all the movie nights, the family dinners, the lazy mornings in Italy when Nicholas had brewed them espresso and they had eaten freshly baked croissants and marmalade in the garden - him and Sky and Hawk and Mom too, as if they were a real family.

The way Nicholas' eyes turned hard at the sight of him, made those memories vanish. The happiest weeks of Hawk's life - now gone forever, shattered, like broken glass under his feet, hurting him with every step he took. There was no love in Nicholas' pale green eyes, no compassion - for a moment Hawk feared he would beat him up with that pasta ladle, and true enough, his grip on the ladle grew fierce, his fingers clenched around it so hard Hawk thought it would snap.

"Please—" Hawk groaned before Nicholas could beat him to death - or slam the door in his face. "I need to talk to you."

"Give me one reason why I should listen to anything you say." Nicholas snarled.