Antonio Pretends he Didn't Break a Rib (SpaMano)

Antonio regretted his life choices as he slammed into the ground.

“And that, children, is how not to keep your guard up.”

There was scattered applause from the seated kids, and a few calls for Sensei to do it again. Antonio sucked in his breath, sitting up and rolling his shoulder. Sensei Lovino bowed toward Antonio, looking amused.

“What do you think, white-belt? Should we try again?”

Every fiber in Antonio’s body screamed no. However, that smirk Lovino had on his face spread to Antonio’s own. The white-belt stood, knees popping, and shook out his arms.

It had all started with Gilbert. It usually started with Gilbert. This time, it was after he had gotten his ass handed to him during bar fight. It was only Gilbert, mind; Francis and Antonio had held their own. Still, next Tuesday, the three of them were standing outside of “Dragon Dojo.”

The instructor, who was very much Italian, explained to Gilbert five times, each time slower than the last, that Dragon Dojo only taught children under thirteen. Finally, the three of them were given outfits and shoved towards the mats in the back.

Sensei Lovino proceeded to beat the living shit out of the three of them.

Francis quit after that, explaining he already was attacked daily by Arthur. Gilbert stuck it out a little longer, for nearly a month.

“Come on, block!” Lovino shouted, kneeing Gilbert in the stomach. “You’re as open as a fucking prairie, guard!” A kick, this time. “Did you see how my weight shifted—Jesus Christ, get off the ground!”

"Antonio,” Gilbert wheezed, weakly waving an arm, “Tag me out, tag me out!”

Antonio groaned, eyes flicking between Gilbert and Lovino. He laughed, holding his side. A rib was probably broken. “No, thank you.”

Lovino cracked his knuckles, eyeing Antonio. “Come on, white-belt, get off your ass. You paid good money for this, might as well.” A minute. “Well, one of you get off of your big, fat asses or you’ll be kicked out of here for good! Come on—“

“Calm down,” Antonio muttered, standing. “I’ll—“

And then Lovino tackled him. Antonio tried his best, he really did, but he ended up in the exact same position as Gilbert. Lovino stood over them, arms crossed, eyes furious.

"You two are fucking useless.”

Gilbert would have slammed the door if his arm wasn’t probably broken. “Fucking stuck up bitch,” Gilbert growled.

“It’s like a foot got stuck up his ass,” Antonio agreed, opening the car door with a vengeance.

Surprising silence, and then, “Oh, fuck,”

Gilbert looked over Antonio’s shoulder. Lovino stood in the dojo’s doorway, holding Antonio’s forgotten coat.

Antonio hadn’t seen anything other than anger Lovino’s face the past few weeks. The look the teacher had now, half out the door, hands clenched into fists, made Antonio’s stomach turn. Lovino looked between his two students, teeth clenched, eyes glistening.  

“You don’t have to fucking come, you know,” Lovino said, voice surprisingly steady. “I teach kids, not asshole adults. Maybe if you could get that through your thick-as-fuck skulls, you wouldn’t have to deal with me—“ His voice cracked.

Gilbert laughed, because he laughed when he was nervous, because he probably thought it was funny on some level, because, deep down, they bothwere assholes. God, how many years ago was it that Antonio vowed never to be a bully again?

“Lovino, we—“

The instructor tossed Antonio’s coat to him, moving back into the gloom of the dojo. “Save it.”

The passenger side door slammed shut, and Antonio marched away from the car, running a hand over his face. He mumbled in Spanish to himself, shaking his head. Gilbert let out an annoyed sigh.

“Dude, it’s fine, the guy needed a dose of his own medicine.”

Antonio replayed the scenario over and over again in his head. It was true, Lovino had been unnecessarily harsh towards the two of them. On the other hand, they had forced their way into the studio. Still, Lovino could have attempted some instruction, instead of just beating them up and explaining what not to do.

 Conflicted, Antonio returned on Wednesday, spying on Lovino through the dojo door. What a difference kids made. Instead of attacking them, Lovino patiently explained to them how to block, how to kick, how to chop a piece of wood in half, woah. And when one of the kids became frustrated, Lovino crouched down to his level and freaking talked the kid down!

That calm disappeared when Lovino caught sight of Antonio. The instructor stood crossed his arms, shaking his head.

"I swear to God, get out of here—“

Antonio was half ready to bolt, but he knew last night would eat away at him until…

“I’m sorry.”

Lovino stared, teeth gritting. “Get—“

The whole class was watching Lovino and Antonio.

“He didn’t even get you flowers!”

Lovino looked down, confusion mixing in with the anger. “Peter, not now.”

Peter frowned at Antonio. “Whenever my dad gets angry at my dad, he buys him flowers and a big box of chocolates to apologize. I dunno’ what this guy is doing, Sensei, but I bet you’d forgive him a lot faster if he got you some chocolate.”

“I can get flowers,” Antonio offered.

“Oh, my God—“

Peter grinned. “Can we see you and your boyfriend fight?!”

“What? No, Peter, Antonio is… Actually,” Lovino turned to Antonio, a wicked smile spreading across his face. “That’s a great idea. You really want to apologize?”

No, Antonio realized as he nodded, not like this. Still, even as the kids cheered and Lovino let out satisfied little grunts whenever he kneed Antonio, he felt much better. Enormously so. Antonio iced his bruises and watched Lovino finish the lesson, admiring how gentle Lovino could be.

Lovino dismissed the class, bowing. He eyed Antonio as he stood.

"You still coming to your lesson tomorrow?”

Antonio still got his assed handed to him, still beat up in front of a much of ten-year-olds, still called insane by Gilbert and Francis for continuing the karate lessons. But, hey, Antonio could sort-of kind-of fight against Lovino.

"You still don’t know how to block,” Lovino commented, panting. “Same time Thursday?”