Heartstrings | Johnny Lawrence x (y/n) | 1984 |

| 3 | Joke

The Morning Before Practice

I stood in front of the mirror, a million thoughts racing through my mind. I was on the brink of skipping practice, but I knew better. Sensei didn't take kindly to absences, especially when it was a showdown day. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the awkward confrontations ahead.

Although my relationship with Johnny  was strained after the incident, I was grateful that Susan and Barbara hadn't turned their backs on me. They'd been my rock, standing by my side even when the tide turned. But the tension with Ali? That was a storm I wasn't ready to face. Not today.

As I slipped on my uniform, I felt the weight of the dojo's expectations pressing down on me. I had to push through, but I was acutely aware that every step I took would be scrutinized.

At The Dojo

As I entered the dojo, a hush fell over the room. It was as if the air itself was holding its breath. I could feel the boys' gazes on me, their curiosity mixed with concern. Ignoring their stares, I rushed to change, praying I could avoid any awkward encounters.

"Y/N... here now!" Sensei's voice sliced through the silence, cutting straight to the core of my anxiety. My stomach dropped. Did I mess up?

"Yes, Sensei!" I replied, moving to his side with a sense of dread. The room fell silent, all eyes now glued to me. "Lead the class for today." I mentally groaned. Fantastic. Just what I needed.

As I turned to face my classmates, I mentally kicked myself for not being more prepared. I was the center of attention, and as the minutes ticked by, I could feel their eyes boring into me, assessing me, waiting for me to slip.

Finally, the time for sparring arrived, and relief washed over me—until Sensei called out my name again.

"Hmm... Y/N and... Johnny!"

Panic surged through me. No, not today. I hesitated, a lump forming in my throat. Sensei's narrowed eyes made it clear he wouldn't accept hesitation. "Do we have a problem, (L/N)?"

"No, Sensei," I managed to respond, my heart racing as Johnny approached, his expression unreadable. I refused to make eye contact, fearing what I might see in his gaze.

"Bow... and... fight!"

The command snapped me into focus. I lunged forward, executing a kick, but Johnny blocked it effortlessly. He countered with a hard strike to my stomach, and I gasped, the pain igniting my frustration. It was as if he could sense my emotional turmoil, and I was furious that he could get to me so easily.

I shook off the pain and retaliated with a back kick to his stomach, followed by a 360 jump that sent him stumbling back. Surprise flickered across his face, and for a moment, I relished the feeling of being in control.

But this wasn't just about winning the match; it was about breaking through the wall that had been built between us. The intensity of our fight escalated, and we moved as if choreographed, exchanging blows in a rhythm fueled by unspoken words.

When Johnny struck my leg and sent me sprawling to the mat, rage boiled inside me. I shot him a glare that could burn a hole through steel. For a brief moment, I saw regret flash across his features, and it fueled my anger even more.

As the match concluded, I stormed off to the restroom, desperate to put some distance between us and to gather my thoughts.

After Practice

I hastily shoved my things into my bag, eager to escape the lingering tension. As I made my way toward the exit, I could feel their eyes on me.

"Hey, (Y/N)!" Tommy called out, and I flinched at the sound of his voice.

Hesitated, then turned my head, catching the concerned looks on the boys' faces. "Yeah?" My voice came out shaky, and the tension thickened.

Before I could slip away, Johnny closed the gap, his expression shifting from confusion to determination. "(Y/N), I'm trying to talk to you!"

I felt the walls closing in, the weight of his presence suffocating. I turned on my heel, walking briskly toward the exit, my heart racing.

"Wait!" he called, his tone pleading yet frustrated.

I stepped outside, the cool air hitting me like a shockwave, but my relief was short-lived. I heard Johnny's footsteps pounding behind me, relentless. Suddenly, I was shoved against a wall in a dark alleyway, the impact knocking the breath from my lungs.

I opened my eyes to find Johnny inches from my face, fury and concern mingling in his expression. "I was talking to you, you know?!" His voice was low and intense, heat radiating off him.

"Go away, Johnny," I snapped, anger bubbling over.

"What's gotten into you? Why are you suddenly ignoring me?" His hands pressed against the wall beside my head, trapping me in a way that sent both heat and confusion coursing through me.

"I don't feel like talking, Johnny! You can go chase after Ali, you'll be just fine without me!" I shot back, my heart pounding.

His eyes widened, caught off guard by my words. I could see the gears turning in his mind, the realization slowly dawning on him. But what did that realization mean for us? I had no idea.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed the boys lingering at the edge of the alley, their eyes wide with shock and amusement. They seemed to be spectators of some sort of twisted drama, and I felt a flash of humiliation.

Johnny's focus wavered as he glanced at the boys, momentarily distracted. It was my chance. I pushed him away with all my strength and stepped back into the dim light of the alley.

"(Y/N)!" he shouted, his voice a mix of anger and desperation, but I was already striding away, my heart racing with every step. I glanced back only once, catching his expression twisted in confusion and frustration.

I couldn't let him see how much his words had affected me. I was caught in a whirlwind of emotions—anger, sadness, confusion—

As I walked away, I could hear him calling my name, but I didn't stop. He wanted answers, and I had a feeling he wouldn't stop until he got them.