The sterile scent of disinfectant permeated the air when the elevator doors opened. The soft ding felt like an unnaturally loud disturbance, its echo lingering as if to mock her hesitation. Harper tightened her grip on her bag, the rough strap digging into her palm, forcing herself to step out onto the fourth floor. Her sneakers squeaked against the polished floor, the sound sharp and out of place, like she didn't belong there. She winced, hoping no one would notice.
This floor was quieter than the lobby, but not by much. Somewhere down the hallway, a cart rattled, its wheels stuttering in uneven bursts. The sound grated against her nerves, more so than the urgent voices that carried over the PA. Nurses and orderlies moved past her in hurried strides, their clipped voices and quick movements making every little thing here seem urgent and deeply significant – like there was no room for error or hesitation.
She slowed her steps, instinctively shrinking into herself to avoid getting in anyone's way. Harper replayed the directions the nurse at the front desk had given her, but the words had evaporated the moment she stepped into the elevator. The signs on the walls blurred into a mess of arrows and numbers as she tried to make sense of this labyrinth of life and death.
It shouldn't be this difficult.
Her heartbeat quickened with each step, pounding in her ears like a warning she couldn't ignore. She hadn't stopped feeling this way – not since Sam and Demetri texted her to tell her that Miguel was awake. That was good news. Of course, it was. She reminded herself of that with every shaky exhale, knowing she should focus on being relieved.
And yet...
The guilt Harper carried was heavy and unyielding, pressing down on her chest with every breath. It turned what should've been a moment of celebration into something suffocating. It felt like she was walking to a funeral rather than a reunion.
It had been two months since Miguel's accident, and Harper could still hear it. The sickening, hollow sound his body made as it struck the stairs. It replayed in her mind like the nightmare that it was, sharp and unrelenting. The image of him crumpled on the ground brought on a wave of nausea, the edges of her vision narrowing as the memory took hold. Harper remembered screaming his name, of everything happening in slow motion as Robby kicked Miguel over the second-floor railing.
She'd gotten in the way that day.
The school had turned into a war zone, her friends and Cobra Kai clashing in a storm of chaos and violence. The deafening sound of voices as they shouted over one another while the air crackled with rage and fear, thick enough to choke on. All Harper had wanted was to help – to stop the fight before it spiraled out of control and before anyone got seriously hurt. But instead, she'd been part of the chaos. Harper could still hear it: the shouts as bodies collided and the split-second decisions that had only pushed everything out of control.
If she'd just stayed out of it, if she hadn't.... Her throat tightened, and she swallowed hard as she desperately tried to push the thought away. But it clung to her, a cruel reminder that she could have done something – anything – different that day.
And now, here she was, walking through the fluorescent-lit halls to visit someone she'd let down. Her hands shook as she imagined seeing Miguel again, his dark eyes clouded with disappointment or blame. What if he didn't want to see her? What if he hated her as much as she hated herself?
Harper's legs felt like lead as she passed a series of identical doors, each step forward heavier than the last. The soft murmur of voices and the faint beeping of monitors followed her, seeping through the cracks in the walls like whispers of doubt. Her steps slowed as she reached his room, her heart thundering so loudly she was certain everyone could hear it.
She peeked into the room. Miguel was sitting up in bed, his face pale and drawn, his shoulders slouched under the weight of something she couldn't quite name. Defeat? Exhaustion? His expression was blank as he stared at his phone.
I did this to him, she thought, her breath catching as she took a step back.
How could she face him after everything? What would she even say that would fix this? There was nothing.
Harper leaned against the wall, running a hand through her hair as she tried to slow her breathing. She'd been so excited to see him, so relieved that he was finally awake, but now... she was paralyzed with the thought of facing him. She let out a shaky breath, willing herself to move, to stop being a coward. But it was easier said than done.
Doctors and nurses walked past her, their hurried steps and clipped voices oblivious to her inner turmoil. Each second that ticked by felt like an eternity, mocking her hesitation. She stole another glance into the room, her heart breaking as she watched Miguel scroll through his phone, his face void of emotion.
"You're allowed to go on," a nurse said gently, breaking through her thoughts. "I'm sure he'd love to have a visitor."
Harper forced a smile and nodded though her chest tightened at the thought.
He wouldn't want to see me, not after everything, she thought bitterly. But the nurse's encouraging look pushed her forward despite the weight pressed down on her shoulders.
Pushing herself from the wall, she stepped towards the room. Her steps were hesitant as if she was navigating a field of landmines. The moment she crossed the threshold, Miguel's head turned towards her.
Their eyes locked, and for a brief moment, she forgot how to breathe.
"Hey," she forced out quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Miguel blinked, his expression softening slightly as recognition set in. "Hey," he said. His voice was warm and a faint, lopsided smile tugged at his lips, fragile but sincere.
Harper hadn't expected warmth, let alone a smile. It didn't feel like she deserved it, and a part of her wondered if it was all just an act. Still, she stepped closer, her hands twisting her bracelet around as though it could anchor her.
But Miguel's smile faded almost immediately as his gaze traveled over her face, his dark eyes locking onto something that made her chest tighten. "What happened?" He asked, his voice sharper now and the concern unmistakable.
Harper instinctively reached up to touch her cheek, the motion awkward and self-conscious. She knew what he'd seen – the faint bruise on her jaw and the small cut near her temple that were impossible to hide, no matter how much makeup she'd used.
"It's nothing," she said, forcing a small smile.
"That doesn't look like 'nothing'," Miguel said, his brow furrowed as his grip tightened slightly around his phone. "Who did that to you?"
"Seriously, Miguel, it's fine," Harper said, brushing off his concern with a practiced ease. "It's nothing I can't handle."
Miguel tilted his head, his expression skeptical, but he didn't push further. "Alright," he said softly, though the concern in his eyes didn't waver. "But you know you can tell me, right? Whatever it is that you're not telling me."
"Yeah, I know," Harper said with a nod, her fingers twisting the bracelet. "So how... how are you feeling?"
Miguel shrugged, his smile fading. "Like I got kicked off a second-story balcony." His attempt at humor was weak, but it was there, and she couldn't help the faint smile that tugged at her lips.
"Well, you always did know how to make an entrance," she said, her voice wavering with an attempt at lightness.
Miguel laughed softly, though it faded quickly as his expression turned serious. "Thanks for coming. I didn't think... I mean, I didn't know if you'd –"
"Of course, I'd come," Harper interrupted, her voice shaky as she looked down, unable to meet his gaze. "I just... I wasn't sure if you'd want to see me."
Miguel tilted his head, confusion flickering across his face. "Why wouldn't I?"
Harper's throat tightened and she fought to keep her composure, but her voice cracked as she spoke. "Because none of this would have happened if it weren't for me."
"What are you talking about?" He asked, his tone cautious but steady. "This wasn't your fault."
"Yeah, it was," Harper said, looking away. "I got in the way. And instead of helping, I distracted you and you got hurt. If I hadn't —"
"Harper," Miguel cut in gently. "You didn't do this to me, okay? Robby did. Things got out of hand but you were just trying to help. You know I don't blame you for this, right?"
"Yeah, well, maybe you should," she said, her voice bitter. A frustrated sigh escaped her lips as she blinked past the tears that blurred her vision. "I didn't stop it. I should've done something."
"There wasn't anything you could've done," Miguel told her, his shoulders sinking deeper into the pillows. "I'm serious. You did what you could. I'm not... how could I be mad at you for that?"
Harper looked at him warily, trying to determine how much of what he said was true. The idea of him not blaming her felt foreign, almost impossible. She desperately wanted to believe him but how could he not hate her after everything? "You're just saying that," she said, the words slipping quietly from her lips.
"I'm not," Miguel said, shaking his head. His gaze was steady and calm, and perhaps that was what broke through the thick wall of doubt she'd built around herself.
Something about his surety struck her. Perhaps it was the quiet conviction in his voice or the gentle way he was looking at her. For the first time, she believed him. He wasn't angry, and he didn't blame her for it. Harper didn't understand why but she let out the breath she'd been holding ever since she stepped into this room – or maybe ever since that horrible day at school. The weight that had clung to her so tightly for the past couple of months loosened its claws, just enough for her to breathe again.
"Still, I'm so sorry," Harper said, brushing away the tears that spilled out despite her best efforts to hold them back. "None of this should've happened. You shouldn't be in here."
The fragile smile faded from his lips as he sighed. "I mean it, Harper. You don't need to keep apologizing," he said, but Harper caught the weariness beneath his words.
"Okay," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She nodded slowly, brushing the remaining tears from her cheeks. "I won't say it again. For now."
Miguel laughed softly but it sounded hollow, not quite reaching his eyes. He looked like a shell of the boy she'd known – the weight of everything pressing down on him in ways that Harper couldn't understand. While she'd been dealing with feelings of guilt, she hadn't thought about what Miguel was going through. The trauma, the fear, the uncertainty of his future. It was a lot to deal with, and she felt selfish that she'd made this about herself.
Harper stepped closer to his bed, gripping the bed rails. "So, how are you? And don't just say fine."
Miguel hesitated, his fingers tracing the edge of his phone. "I've been better," he finally admitted, his voice low and vulnerable. "I'm scheduled for surgery this Friday."
Surgery? Harper's heart sank, though she tried to keep her expression steady. She'd heard rumors of him needing surgery but hearing it from him made it more real than she wanted to admit.
"They're going to try to repair the damage to my spine. Apparently, some doctor from out of state works miracles," he continued. He kept his tone neutral, but Harper could hear the frustration in his words. "But I don't even know if it's worth it. Like, it'll put my mom into a lot of debt and we don't even know if it'll work. And then we just waste all this money for nothing."
"You can't think like that," Harper said, her voice soft but firm. "You don't know that it won't work. I mean, if they're even considering doing the surgery then there has to be a chance it'll work, right?"
"Maybe. But... I don't know," Miguel said with a heavy sigh, looking towards the widow but not before Harper caught the look in his eye – the desperate hope that was being smothered by the crushing weight of doubt.
"You're scared," Harper said gently, her heart aching for the boy who used to be so full of life. Her grip on the bed rail tightened as she looked at him. "I get that. I really, really do but you can't let that fear make the decision for you."
"I'm just trying to be realistic," he muttered, his voice low and strained as his grip tightened around his phone.
"I get that but you also have to give yourself a chance. You can't just give up. You have to keep fighting, Miguel. No mercy, remember?"
Miguel blinked at her, momentarily startled before a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Did you seriously just quote Cobra Kai to me?" He asked, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.
Harper rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, desperate times and all that," she said with a shrug as she leaned against the bed rail. "Besides, just because I think the whole 'strike first, strike hard' thing is kinda ridiculous doesn't mean I can't borrow one little phrase when it fits."
Miguel laughed softly. "So what's next? You're gonna join the dojo?"
"Don't push it," Harper said with a smile.
His smile lingered for a moment before fading. "It's not that I want to give you, you know. I just... I don't want to get my hopes up. What if it doesn't work? What if I go through all of this, and I'm still stuck like this?"
"Then you try again," she said firmly, refusing to let doubt take over. "You keep trying no matter how many times it takes but you never give up. You're not a quitter, Miguel."
"It's not that easy," he said.
"It's not supposed to be easy," Harper said. "I know that it's scary and unfair and it feels like the whole freaking universe is against you but... the point is, you're one of the strongest people I know. You've got so much fight in you, and no matter what happens, you're going to figure it out. But remember that you're not doing it alone."
Miguel didn't say anything for a moment. He looked at her as something unspoken passed between them before letting out a slow breath. "Thanks, Harper. I kinda needed to hear that," he said, his voice carrying a weight of gratitude.
"Anytime," Harper said with a smile, reaching out to brush her hand against his. "And I mean it. No one's gonna let you give up."
Miguel glanced at their hands briefly, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. "You're pretty stubborn, you know that?"
"I've been told," Harper said, her smile widening.
For the first time that day, Harper saw a flicker of the old Miguel. Of the boy who never backed down, no matter how hard things got. While his smile was faint, it was real, and the sight made her chest feel a little lighter.
Harper had no idea what would happen next – whether the surgery would work or if Miguel would ever walk again – but she wasn't going to give up hope. Hope was all they had right now, and she would hold onto it until there was nothing left to hold onto. And even then, she'd believe in the possibility that things would get better. Because they had to, didn't they? Bad things couldn't keep happening without there being some silver lining.
The silence between them lingered, but it was lighter and less suffocating this time. Miguel shifted slightly against his pillows and glanced at her before breaking the quiet.
"So, what's been going on with you? I feel like I missed a lot since, you know...," Miguel trailed off, his hand gesturing vaguely.
"Oh, uhm, not much," Harper said with a shrug, her fingers finding the bracelet around her wrist. She twisted it absently, offering Miguel a smile. "Everything's pretty much, you know, the same."
Harper felt the weight of her own words. It wasn't a lie, not really. Things were the same, if you didn't count the chaos of her life – the custody battles, the whispers that followed her in the hallways, and the nagging feeling that things could fall apart in a blink of an eye. Her life, like always, was intense.
But technically, everything was good. Two families were fighting for her and her friends were speaking to her again. From the outside, it probably looked like things were falling into place. Nevertheless, it all felt so fragile — like a single gust of wind could send everything crashing down.
And then there was Hawk.
Hawk, who kept her a secret from his friends but stepped in to protect her when they went too far. Hawk, who told her he liked her.
Whatever that meant.
Harper still didn't know.
She didn't want to unload all of that on Miguel, though. Not when he was stuck in this sterile, unforgiving hospital, fighting to hold onto hope. He didn't need her mess piled onto his.
But the way he was watching her, his head tilted, told her he wasn't buying her vague answer. "Come on. You can't give me the whole 'everything's the same' line."
"Why not? Everything's the same. Boring." Harper rolled her eyes in an attempt to brush off his insistence. "You're acting like I've been living a double life or something."
"I don't know, maybe you have," he said with a light laugh, though there was a quiet persistence beneath his teasing. "But, come on, you've gotta give me something. I've been stuck here for weeks, Harper. I need to hear about something other than surgery schedules and pain management."
Harper opened her mouth to deflect again, but the look in his eyes stopped her. Hopeful. Desperate for something that felt normal. Miguel didn't want to hear about her life out of politeness; he needed it. Needed an escape from his own reality; from the confines of the hospital and the endless medical updates and what-ifs. He wanted to feel connected to the outside world again.
Her fingers twisted the bracelet around her wrist as she hesitated. He didn't need to know everything. He didn't need to know about the rumors that followed her around school relentlessly, thanks to Kyler and Jake or the way her life sometimes felt like it was teetering on the edge of chaos.
But maybe she could tell him about one thing. The one thing that felt safe enough, even if it was complicated in its own way.
"Well," Harper began, her voice quieter now as she let out a sigh. "There's been this custody thing going on. It's kind of been... a lot."
Miguel raised an eyebrow, his curiosity tempered by quiet concern. "What custody thing? I thought the Hudsons were adopting you."
"Yeah, well, that's kind of the whole complicated, messy part," Harper said, tightening her hold on her bracelet. "They still want to adopt me but... remember that guy at the arcade I met up with over the summer? The one everyone thought was just a bad date gone wrong? Well, it wasn't a date. He was... is my dad."
Miguel blinked, his expression shifting into something unreadable as he studied her. "Okay, wait, back up. He's your dad?"
"Yeah." Harper let out a small laugh, the absurdity of it hitting her again. She glanced down, avoiding his gaze. "Apparently, he signed away his parental rights when I was really little but now he wants to... I don't know, get me back? It's like he wants to make up for lost time or something."
Miguel frowned, his gaze softening. "So what does that mean for the Hudsons?"
Her fingers were still on the bracelet, and she took a deep breath. "It means that it's on hold for now – or at least until the court reviews his petition and decides where I'll live. The judge thought it would be a good idea for me to spend two weeks out of the month with him. Kind of a trial run, I guess."
"That sounds like a lot to deal with," he said as he processed her words.
That was the understatement of the year.
"It is," Harper admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But it's not all bad. It's just... a lot to figure out, you know?"
Miguel nodded slowly. "Yeah, I get that. So how do you feel about it? About spending time with him?"
Harper hesitated, her thoughts tangling as she tried to piece together an answer. "Honestly? I don't know. I mean, it's weird but I don't hate him like I thought I would."
"That's good, right?" Miguel asked. "But look on the bright side: no matter what happens or where you live, at least you know you'll be with a family who loves you."
Harper smiled softly, nodding. She only wished that she wouldn't have to be the one making the decision. Before she could say anything else, a voice spoke up from behind her.
"Oh, sorry. I didn't realize... I wasn't trying to interrupt."
Harper glanced over her shoulder, her smile growing when she noticed Sam hesitating in the doorway. For a moment, she felt a familiar pang of awkwardness, aware of how much history hung between Sam and Miguel. But she waved her in any way. "You're not interrupting. We were just catching up, but I should probably head out. Still have to finish that English assignment for tomorrow."
"Don't remind me," Sam said with a sigh, though her focus shifted to Miguel with quiet uncertainty. "It's okay that I'm here, right?"
"Uh, yeah. Definitely," Miguel answered, his voice soft but sure. Adjusting himself against the pillows, he offered her a faint smile.
Harper nodded, stepping back toward the door but lingered for a fraction of a second. She knew that Miguel needed this moment with Sam more than he needed her, and that was okay. They deserved to clear the air, too – she knew how much Miguel's accident had affected Sam. "I'll talk to you later, okay?"
Harper stepped back out into the hallway, the real world continuing around her as if she hadn't just confronted the weight of her own guilt and Miguels' fragile hope. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed faintly, blending with the steady hum of the PA system and the low murmur of tense conversations. The sterile scent of disinfectant was sharp in the air, but she barely noticed it. Her hand brushed against her bracelet again, a nervous habit she couldn't quite break, as she let out a shaky breath.
She'd been relieved to see Miguel smile, even if just for a moment. To have that flicker of reassurance in the middle of the chaos was something she hadn't realized she needed. Knowing he didn't hate her, that he wasn't angry felt like a weight lifting from her shoulders. But the knot in her chest didn't disappear entirely.
The guilt lingered like a bad aftertaste, stubborn and unyielding. Now matter how many times Miguel said it wasn't her fault, she couldn't help but feel responsible – not directly but in all the ways that mattered. There had to have been something she could've done to stop it, and now, that guilt was hers to carry.
Harper leaned against the cool wall, staring blankly ahead as her thoughts tangled into an indiscernible mess. Maybe she hadn't fixed everything, but she'd done what she could. For now, that would have to be enough.
She took another breath, steadier this time, and pushed herself off the wall. With one last glance at the door behind her, she turned and started down the hallway. Her mind didn't quiet – not even a little bit. Her thoughts swirled chaotically, refusing to settle down, but she didn't have the energy to catch hold of any one of them.
Distracted, she barely registered the muffled conversations drifting from nearby rooms. She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't notice someone rounding the corner until she nearly collided with them. A hand shot out to steady her, firm but gentle.
"Slow down, foster," Hawk said, carrying that familiar edge of humor as he prevented the crash. "You know, one of these days you're gonna run into the wrong person."
Harper blinked, momentarily startled as her heart gave that annoying, faint flutter when she recognized him. She quickly masked it with an apologetic smile, stepping back to create a little space between them. "Pretty sure I already did that, remember? At Valley Fest," Harper reminded him.
Hawk smirked, his hand lingering in the air for a second longer than necessary before dropping it to his side. "I was talking about now, not ancient history."
Harper rolled her eyes, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah, well, thanks for saving me from a potential hallway disaster."
"Anytime." His smirk faded slightly as his eyes flickered over her face, taking in the bruises that stood out against her pale skin. His humor dimmed, replaced by something sharper. "Speaking of disasters, are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," Harper said, her answer quick. Too quick. "Why wouldn't I be?"
Hawk's jaw tightened at her answer. "Because it looks like you went five rounds with my friends and lost," he said, his voice quieter but tinged with anger. He hesitated before reaching out, gently tilting her face toward the light. His touch was cautious, almost as if he was afraid of hurting her more. But his gaze flickered over the faint bruises and cuts that were beginning to heal but were no doubt still painful.
Harper stiffened, annoyed at how her heart skipped a beat. At that moment, she hated him for telling her that he liked her. For turning their simple friendship — a friendship that worked — into something unnecessarily complicated. They'd tried their hand at being more but that had failed miserably. So why would he have told her that he liked her? Why would he try to ruin something that wasn't broken?
All it did was make her overthink every word, every look and every touch. Harper had enough going on in her life without adding whatever this was into the mix.
But she told herself she was overthinking this. It was possible — more likely than not — that he meant it as a friends only kind of like. Of course that's all that it was. She was reading too much into it like she did everything else in her life.
They we're friends.
Just friends.
So she buried those feelings of something more, refusing to even let herself feel something other than friendship for him.
"It's really not as bad as it looks," Harper said, trying to keep her voice steady though she was still hyper-aware of how close he was. "It doesn't even hurt."
"You're such a liar," he said with a humorless laugh, his hand dropping to his side. "I was there, remember? I saw what they did so don't pretend it doesn't hurt."
"It's fine." Harper clenched her jaw, forcing herself to hold his gaze even though she wanted to look anywhere else. "I've had worse, so this? It's nothing."
"It's not nothing, and you know it," he shot back, his expression hardening. "I just... I should've stopped them sooner. They went too far, and I just stood there like an idiot while they –"
"Okay, so you hesitated. Big deal," Harper said with a shrug. Her defenses wavered as she took in the tension in his shoulders and the regret etched on his face. "But we've been over this like a dozen times already, and you don't have to keep beating yourself up. Seriously, I'm not mad at you. I mean, getting punched by your friends wasn't exactly on my bucket list, but you stepped in eventually. And that's really all that matters."
"You still shouldn't have had to deal with that," he said, almost to himself, though a faint smile tugged at his lips. "But I still don't regret punching him."
Harper nodded before her brain caught up to his words. "Wait. You punched Trey?"
"Relax, foster. It was an accident. We were at practice and things kinda got... out of hand," he said, though the way he said 'accident' made her eyes narrow. They both knew it was anything but.
"You can't just go around punching people, you know," Harper said, crossing her arms.
"It was –"
"An accident. Yeah, you said that, but sorry if I don't believe you," she said, cutting him off. "I thought I told you to let it go."
"Well, I didn't. So how about a 'thank you' instead?" He asked, smirking just enough to irritate her.
Harper rolled her eyes. "Fine. Thank you for being an idiot and risking everything you worked for just for some stupid revenge."
"What was I supposed to do?" Haw's voice rose as he stepped closer, his expression hardening. "Just ignore what he did to you? Pretend that he didn't almost break your ribs with that punch?"
Harper exhaled sharply, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "Yeah, Hawk. That's exactly what you were supposed to do! Not just... lash out and make everything worse."
"Oh, so now I'm the bad guy?" Hawk shot back, his tone sharp. "I stop them from hurting you, and somehow, I'm the problem?"
"That's not what I said!" Harper snapped, locking eyes with him. "Stop twisting my words around, okay? I just meant that you already got them to back off so punching Trey was just really stupid. I mean, it's not like it changed what happened. You didn't have to –"
"What? Protect you?" He interrupted, his eyes narrowing. "Yeah, I did. They don't get to just walk away after what they did to you."
"Why can't you just...," she started to fire back but her voice faltered when she realized that all eyes were on them. Their voices had risen, echoing down the hospital hallway and drawing curious, judgmental, and even amused stares. Her face flushed as she looked around, her shoulders stiffening under the weight of the attention.
Harper took a deep breath, releasing it slowly, though it did little to steady her nerves. Dropping her gaze, she muttered under her breath, "You're such an idiot."
"And you're impossible," he shot back.
Shaking her head, she glanced back up at him again. "I can take care of myself, okay? I don't need you to screw things up for yourself because of me. I mean, your friends and Kreese are probably giving you a hard time with us being friends. So can you, I don't know, maybe not make things even worse for yourself?"
"If they have a problem, that's on them," Hawk said firmly, but his expression softened just a bit. "I don't care what they think."
"Maybe you should care! Because they're going to be watching your every move. They'll be waiting for you to screw up so they can make your life difficult. You know that. So, no, I don't need you playing hero. I can handle myself," Harper said, fighting to keep her voice from rising.
"Really? You can handle yourself?" Hawk raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "Because it looked like you had everything under control when Trey threw that punch."
Harper refused to back down, even as her face burned with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. "You're such a hypocrite," she shot back, her voice cold. "You're the one who let it happen, remember? You stood there, Hawk. You stood there and you let it happen while you debated whether you should step in or not."
His expression darkened at her words, but he didn't deny them. The weight of what she said hung between them, heavy and unspoken.
"Yeah, I know," he said finally. "But I'm not gonna let that happen again. Ever."
Harper blinked. For a moment, she didn't know how to respond so she crossed her arms, trying to keep her expression neutral.
"Look, I get that you don't want me to make things worse for myself. But I'm not gonna stop having your back, so you're just gonna have to get used to it," he told her.
Harper sighed, the fight draining out of her. "Fine. But maybe try not to get yourself kicked out of Cobra Kai in the process, okay?"
"No promises," Hawk said with a faint smirk, his tone carrying just enough edge to make her roll her eyes. "So, did you see Miguel yet?"
The question caught her off guard, disrupting the argument they were having just moments ago. Harper hesitated, shifting her weight awkwardly as she glanced toward Miguel's room. His question had come out of nowhere, throwing her off from their tense conversation. "Yeah, I just saw him," she said, tugging at her bracelet as she twisted it in slow, nervous circles.
"So," Hawk started, his tone was casual but laced with that sharp, teasing sarcasm. "Did Miguel kick you out for, you know, for being the mastermind behind his accident?"
Harper rolled her eyes again, but this time it wasn't from annoyance. It was the way he managed to zero in on the one thing that had been bothering her for weeks, dressing it up in humor like it was no big deal. Her throat tightened, and for a moment she considered deflecting with some witty comeback. But the way he raised an eyebrow at her, waiting, forced her to answer. "No, he didn't kick me out. He said he doesn't blame me."
"Told you. Miguel's not the type to hold a grudge." Hawk tilted his head, a knowing grin spreading across his face as he studied her. His expression shifted slightly to something more serious. "But maybe you should stop beating yourself up about it. You know, since he doesn't blame you."
Harper's first instinct was to argue, to deflect the weight of his words with the stubbornness she carried around like armor. But no matter how much she wanted to, the words wouldn't come. The truth was, even after Miguel's reassurance, she didn't know how to let the guilt go. It was lighter now, but it lingered, like an ache she couldn't quite shake.
"I'll try," she said finally, though her words felt hollow. She crossed her arms, more to steady herself than anything else. "Anyway, I should probably let you –"
"So, he's good?" Hawk interrupted, briefly looking toward Miguel's room. "Like, actually good?"
"I think so," Harper said but shrugged. "I mean, he's worried about the surgery and everything, but he seemed... okay."
"I'm gonna go check on him," Hawk said with a nod, already turning toward Miguel's room.
Harper hesitated, her eyes widening for a moment. She considered letting him go without saying anything, but she knew him too well. He'd find out soon enough, and delaying the inevitable wouldn't make it any easier.
"What?" He asked, narrowing his eyes as he caught the hesitation on her face. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
Harper debated on how to best break the news. "Nothing. It's just...," she hesitated. "Sam's in there."
The shift in his expression was instant, his eyes darkening with a storm of anger and irritation. "Of course she is," he muttered, his tone dripping with disdain. He started toward the room, but Harper instinctively reached out to grab his arm.
"Hawk, don't," she warned, her voice firm as she grabbed his arm. She pulled him back, meeting his glare head-on. "They need to talk."
"Talk?" He repeated with a humorless laugh. He yanked his arm out of her grasp, his glare sharp enough to cut through steel. "She shouldn't even be here. If anyone's to blame for what happened to Miguel, it's her. So I'm not gonna stand around while she –"
"This isn't about you!" She interrupted, her voice rising.
For a second, her words seemed to stun him. His eyes searched hers, and she thought – hoped – that he might actually back down. But then, just as quickly, his expression hardened again. Without another word, he turned and stalked toward the room.
Harper hesitated, her stomach twisting in knots as she watched him disappear through the door. She knew she should stay out of this, but she also knew that things could spiral if she didn't intervene. She let out a sigh, muttering, "Great," under her breath before she reluctantly followed after him.
"You got some nerve coming here after what your boyfriend did to him," Hawk snapped, his voice sharp and cutting as Harper stepped into the room.
The scene she walked into was thick with tension — thick enough to cut with a knife. It was only a matter of time before things got out of hand. Hawk stood with his arms crossed, a look of disdain on his face while Sam's fists were clenched at her sides. Miguel, on the other hand, looked more uncomfortable by the second, his gaze darting from one to the other as if unsure how to defuse the situation.
"I don't care what you think," Sam said, her voice surprisingly calm but edged with steel. "I just want to help."
"Pretty sure you've done enough, princess," Hawk shot back.
"Hawk, stop," Harper said as she stepped between them, ignoring the glare Hawk directed at her. She stood her ground, meeting his stare with one of her own. "Miguel really doesn't need this right now, so back off."
"She shouldn't be here," he argued but there was less bite to it now. His arms remained crossed over his chest, and he didn't move.
"That's not exactly your call to make," Harper told him. "It's up to Miguel, and the fact that he didn't kick her out says that he wants her here. So you can glare all you want, but it's not up to you."
Miguel, who had been quiet this entire time, spoke up. "Okay, what's going on here? Seriously."
Harper froze, feeling his curious gaze land on her and Hawk. She was aware of how strange this must look to Miguel with her standing close to Hawk, while he glared daggers at Sam like he was ready to explode. It wasn't hard to see the questions written over Miguel's face as he tried to process what was happening — questions she wasn't ready to answer.
"Nothing," Harper said quickly, shooting him a smile that felt too forced. She looked to Sam, who's own anxiety was radiating off of her in waves. "Ready to go?"
Sam didn't hesitate, her nod sharp and stiff. "I'll check on you later," she said to Miguel before brushing past Hawk towards the door.
Eager to escape the lingering tension and the questions Miguel no doubt had, she started after Sam. But before she could take more than two steps, Hawk's hand shot out and gently closed around her wrist. The contact froze her in place, the feelings she'd tried to bury earlier clawing their way back up.
She turned back to him, keeping her expression neutral. Or, at least, trying to. His expression was unreadable save for the anger still lingering. But the way he was looking at her made her forget, just for a second, how to breathe. Once again, her heart picked up speed as if it had a mind of its own.
"I'll talk to you later," he said. It wasn't a question. It was a promise.
Harper nodded numbly before pulling her hand free. She turned and followed Sam out of the room, but she could still feel Miguel's eyes on her.
The door swung closed behind them, and she let out a slow breath. Whatever was going on between her and Hawk was starting to feel harder to ignore. Still, she reminded herself that it was just her overactive imagination. That had to be it.
"I hate him," Sam muttered beside her, pulling Harper out of her thoughts.
Harper turned to her, blinking as Sam threw her a sideways glance — one filled with frustration, exasperation, and a hint of disbelief.
"Sorry," Sam added with a shrug, though her tone didn't sound apologetic at all. "I know you two are a thing now but...."
"A thing?" Harper repeated, her voice pitching higher than she intended. Wincing, she shook her head a little too quickly. "We're not... No. We're just friends."
Sam turned to face her, her expression incredulous. "Friends?" She repeated as if the word itself was absurd. "Harper, friends don't look at each other like that."
The words hit her like a punch she hadn't seen coming. What did that even mean? She replayed the moment in her mind — Hawk's hand around her wrist, the intensity in his eyes as he look at her, the way it felt as if the world had disappeared around them. For a second, she couldn't come up with a single defense.
"He doesn't — I mean, we weren't —" Harper stumbled over her words, ignoring the knowing look Sam threw at her. "No, you're imagining things. We're just... friends."
"Sure," Sam said, rolling her eyes. "Whatever you say."
Harper didn't respond. She couldn't. Instead, she averted her eyes and tried to brush off her words though they echoed in her mind on a continuous loop.
Friends don't look at each other like that.
Harper tried not to think about it, but it was the only topic her mind wanted to focus on. Not just that but the way he had looked at her — and worse, the way she'd looked back.
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Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter.
We finally got to see Miguel! I love their friendship soo much. And Harper and Hawk? Things are definitely getting a little intense.
But let me know what you guys think :)