Chapter Text
“You can see him-“ Johnny leaps to his feet, ready to push past Dr. Trevor and bound down the hallway -“but with a few conditions.”
“Anything,” Johnny agrees, he’d agree to anything to see Robby, and to confirm with his own eyes that he’s alive and breathing.
“If he asks you to leave, leave. Don’t ask him about what happened to him, let him tell you - if he so wishes. Don’t make sudden movements or be aggressive-“
“I’m not fucking aggresive,” Johnny snarls.
“Uh huh. Ok,” the psychologist says, looking him up and down, judgmental bastard, ” I will be right outside the door. If Robby wants me to supervise or intervene I will come into the room at his command. If I hear anything that I feel is unacceptable for his healing process or that upsets him, I will call security.”
“Yeah, yeah, I understand-“
“Do you? Your son has gone through something traumatic. He is malnourished, injured, and in physical and mental pain. I do not want you to take one look at him and then use his suffering as an excuse to get angry at whoever has harmed him in his presence. What Robby will need over the next few months, years more than likely, is unconditional support. Not someone making his pain about him and ready to walk out the door at the first sign of strife.”
Johnny really wants to hit this guy, but it would just prove his point. Damnnit.
“I get it OK- I’ll behave. Just let me see him.”
Johnny is practically vibrating with anxiousness, knowing he won’t settle until he can finally see, feel, hear Robby.
“This way,” he sighs and he leads Johnny down a corridor, and through a door into a quieter annex. He nods at an orderly and stops outside a closed door.
“This is his room.”
Before Johnny can enter, Dr. Trevor places a hand on his upper arm.
“Be gentle with him,” he asks softly. Johnny nods back, shuffles his feet, takes a deep breath and then pushes the door slowly open.
The room is bigger than he expected, the evening light streaming in through the window. It’s very empty though, stale and sterile, and he curses himself for not bringing flowers or teddies or a card to brighten the place up. He’ll text Daniel and ask him to bring something with him.
(It pains him to admit it but he might know what Robby would appreciate more.)
The bed is in the centre of the room and he nearly misses Robby at first, curled under the mound of blankets.
Robby…
“Oh Robby,” he whispers, taking a faltering step forward.
Robby has diminished. That is his first thought when he sees son after four months. His eyes, that were always so big and green before, are nearly bulging now, sunken into his face. They peek up at him, like Johnny is an apparition. His hair is long, so long, that it hides his face like a curtain when he looks down.
His cheekbones jut out, like his shoulders which are peeking up and out over his hospital gown. His hands are curled around the bed sheets, flexing, as if he’s nervous.
(Or scared.)
His neck is wrapped in a bandage and bruises and cuts litter his milky white skin. Johnny loses count of the many marks he can see. Wonders if Robby had always been that pale.
He moves toward Robby like he’s a skittish animal, sits on the chair ever so gently, doesn’t want to make a sudden movement in case he runs out the door never to be seen again.
(For good this time.)
“Hi dad,” Robby whispers, voice rasping, “How have you been?”
Johnny stifles a violent sob, uses the heels of his hands to shove the moisture right back in.
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that kid?”
Robby smiles, something tiny, fleeting and sacred, and Johnny wants to pocket it right up.
“I’ve been better.”
“Yeah, I say.” Johnny eyes up a particularly vivid bruise on his left shoulder.
Robby rubs at the mark self-conciously. Johnny wants to know how he got it, knows anything he’s been imagining is probably less unbearable than the truth.
“I appreciate you coming to see me,” Robby says, as if Johnny is an acquaintance over for a coffee.
“Where else would I be?!” Johnny laughs harshly in disbelief.
Robby’s face twists up, a familiar expression of spite before it dies down just as quick. Instead, he seems to fold into himself even more, pulling his legs up and wrapping his arms around his knees.
Johnny wants to hold him. Longs to reach out and pull a hand through his hair, press a kiss to his forehead, but he waits. His comfort might not be welcome, if it ever was.
“I’ve missed you Robby, so much.” Johnny puts a hand on the blanket, centimetres away from Robby’s encased foot.
When Robby looks at him incredulously - Johnny realises his mistake.
“How could you have missed me? You never knew I was gone?” And it breaks Johnny's heart how matter-of-fact Robby sounds, he doesn’t even sound angry. He wants him to be angry, wants him to shout at him, it’s what he deserves.
“It’s complicated, and I’m not making-“ Johnny pleads.
“What’s complicated about it? I’m your son and you didn’t know I was missing,” Robby says, tone neutral.
Johnny flounders - anything he says will mean nothing, not to Robby, not after what he’s been through.
Robby sighs, looking at Johnny almost as if he feels sorry for him.
“Look dad, I had a lot of time to think. Really think. And I said to myself, if I ever got out of there, I’d make things right.”
Robby closes his eyes, takes a meditative breath, looking like he’s drawing courage from somewhere deep within himself.
His eyes flash open, hitting Johnny with a decisive gaze.
“I know, I know you’ve never loved me-“
“Robby that’s no-“ Johnny desperately interrupts, disgusted with himself that his son could even think for a second that that’s an irrefutable fact.
“Please, please let me finish. It’s OK. Honestly. It is. He told me no-one was looking for me, and I didn’t believe him. Didn’t want to maybe. I guess I thought, maybe… I know things were, are, shit between us and between me and, well everyone really,” he chuckles, a sick, twisted sound spearing through Johnny's gut,” but I thought that… It doesn’t matter… Look, it’s honestly alright.
I know it must not have been easy for you or for mom when I… Neither of you really wanted me. That’s OK. It’s not like I made your lives any easier. And I used to think it was your fault, your problem. But it’s not, is it? Because I’ve seen you with… I know now that I’m just not easy to love. I make it difficult. I do dad, I do. Look at everything I’ve done. I’m a bad person. You just knew that deep down.”
“You are not a bad person-“ Johnny presses his hands on Robby’s, desperately grappling to hold on.
“I nearly killed Miguel. What if I had? Seriously dad, what if I had killed him? You couldn’t bare to look at me for putting him in the hospital. If I killed him, you’d have killed me.”
Johnny couldn’t answer, can’t make a coherent word emit from his lips,” I- I - wouldn’t-“
“That night in Cobra Kai you came to fight Kreese because they’d hurt Miguel, didn’t you?” Robby waits for a response this time.
“… Yeah but I don’t see-“
“You couldn’t come see me in juvie ‘cause you were with him. You couldn’t come to my foo- No, I’m not going to do this. I-,” he screws his face up, and Johnny is dismayed to see tears leak out down his face.
“I was jealous of you and Miguel, I still am but I’m not going to… I’m trying to tell you that I know you love him. I can see that now. And I’m not going to stand in the way of it. You don’t have to pretend to care dad, in fact I’d rather you didn’t.”
Johnny feels like Robby has taken heart from his chest and smeared it on the walls. Dragged his arteries out and painted the ceiling crimson. He can’t think straight, and he was never very articulate but any comprehensive understanding of the English language has disappeared.
Robby blinks, disappointment shining in his wet eyes and Johnny forces himself to say something, before Robby rightfully asks him to leave.
“I fucking failed you, everyday I’ve failed you. I’m a coward. That’s the core of it Robby. I am a coward. And Miguel- he’s easy to- I haven’t failed him so it’s easy. It’s-,” he’s losing Robby, can see it in the way the tears silently flow quicker, in the way he allows them to breach the bandage on his neck,” I love you Robby.”
Robby makes a wounded noise and Johnny carefully places his hands on his face, feels his sharp bones, wipes the tears away with his fingertips.
“You are my son Robby and I love you. I know you don’t believe me, I’ve not given much reason for you to do, but I love you. For the rest of my life, and for as long as you allow, I will prove it. I will show you how much I love you, and how proud I am that you are my son.”
Robby rests his forehead on Johnny's sternum, only for a moment and then carefully extracts himself from his hold. Johnny's arms are desolate without him in them.
“OK. Sure. We’ll see,” he says hoarsely. “I’m tired. I really need to… Do you mind…”
“Yeah. You need your rest kid. I’ll be just outside. OK? So if you need me, shout. I’ll come running. I’ll be right by your side in a second,” Johnny attempts a smile, and gets up, wiping imaginary dust from his knees.
Then carefully, ever so carefully, he bends down and kisses his son's forehead.
“I love you,” he whispers, and allows Robby’s nod, as feeble as it was, to carry him out the door.