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DANIEL: Goddamnit, Johnny, I don’t have time for this.
JOHNNY: I’m in love with you, you dickhead. Last night I smiled during your stupid fucking car commercial. I wanted to tear that suit off of you and watch what your arms could do unhindered. I wanted to tear that suit off of you and tilt your chin up, like, fuck it, let’s see what happens.
DANIEL: You don’t know what you’re saying.
JOHNNY: Fuck you. I know that one well enough, huh?
[A tense stare-off.]
JOHNNY: You remember spring break? ‘85? Felt like we were the only two damn seniors left in this town, place was fucking crawling with tourists, an anthill somebody kicked in their flip-flops and the sun was the magnifying glass. Swore to god I was gonna get boiled alive. Saw you on the beach and forgot all about the sweat droplets racing each other down my back or the hell I would have to sit through when I got back home. All I could see were your knees.
JOHNNY: That’s what I mean. I want to wake up and be able to tell how bad it’s bothering you, even though you act all cardboard cutout posed in a crane kick to everyone else. I want to reach over your body and turn on the heating pad.
[DANIEL’s mouth is open. You’ll catch more flies with shock and awe than practiced aloofness, kid.]
DANIEL: I—
[A deep breath.]
DANIEL: How did you know that?
JOHNNY: My jaw clicks when I yawn too hard. You don’t even want to know what happens with my hips.
DANIEL: Maybe I do.
[JOHNNY’s turn to gape at him. JOHNNY swallows. Takes a running leap at his train of thought.]
JOHNNY: Anyway, that’s the only time in my life I ever got sunburned, if you can believe it. I was usually better at remembering how to avoid the pain.
DANIEL: So you liked the commercial, huh?
JOHNNY: No. I hated your face. Too polished.
DANIEL: Some of us have learned how to be professional.
JOHNNY: Yeah, right. You stuck that Jersey fire under a sprinkler system and waited until there was nothing left of your spirit that wasn’t waterlogged. If that’s professionalism, I’ll take ace degenerate any day.
[DANIEL does that thing he does, half a laugh, half a scoff, trying desperately to summon the distance afforded by condescension. He feels like he’s just skinned both his palms and is bleeding on his desk. Shallow Christ wounds, shallow breaths, shallow reasons to glance at his watch that’s worth more than Johnny’s net worth and make up a meeting.]
[He looks at the watch. He doesn’t say anything.]
JOHNNY: You want vulnerable?
[No, he doesn’t. His biggest secret: he wants a plastic bonsai. Something he can’t break, can’t damage by forgetting about in a fit of passion directed seventy degrees to the left of it, can’t smother with overthinking. He wants an enemy.]
JOHNNY: There were nights I’d channel surf just to get a glimpse of your face. Drive the long way home from a job to look at that smarmy bastard on the billboard for five seconds, even though gas was on my own dime. I heard your voice from the TV between beers and innings and about went full Casablanca, would’ve asked the bartender to play it again if he could’ve.
DANIEL: Why are you telling me this?
JOHNNY: I know I ruined your life for a while in high school. Figured it was only fair you ruin mine a little.
[JOHNNY runs a hand through his hair. Shifts his weight.]
JOHNNY: Well, I’ve got to go get paid to kick the shit out of a bunch of ten-year-olds, so. You know where to find me if you want to continue this whole “wound, meet salt” shit.
[JOHNNY turns to the door. If he’s walking slower than usual, that’s nobody’s business but his own.]
DANIEL: Wait.
[JOHNNY pauses. His back is to Daniel. Hand drops from the doorknob. This, too, is a vulnerability Daniel doesn’t want near him; too easy to stab that broad back, to crush this fragile trust to a fine powder. Maybe that’s something those Cobra Kai bastards did to him. He fears it was already there, though.]
DANIEL: Okay, I’ll— I’ll admit, I’m not so good at the mercy thing either.
JOHNNY: There’s a difference between mercy and pity.
DANIEL: [unconvincingly] I don’t pity you.
[JOHNNY scoffs. There aren’t layers to it, just disbelief.]
[Silence. DANIEL fidgets. JOHNNY is still facing the door.]
DANIEL: Pass me my backpack, would you? Today’s a harder one, because it’s really high humidity, so I’ve got this salve I put on it.
[JOHNNY picks up his bag from where it’s lying against the wall, rummages through it, and holds up a red tin, raising his eyebrows at Daniel. DANIEL nods. He carefully does not show how relieved he is that Johnny is looking at him again. He wonders when he started thinking of relief as weakness.]
DANIEL: Yeah. Thanks.
JOHNNY: Any time.