Devil's Drop

Red + Blue = Purple

Mike tilted his head to the right, his nervous fingers tugging at his silver earring while Joe sat across from him, his eyes expectant. There was no getting out of this. Mike was going to have to give him some sort of answer. But there is no way I'm stepping foot in a karate class. Just the thought is enough to make my stomach turn. Sweaty people everywhere, and all of them thinking I should know what I'm doing, sounds like a little slice of hell on an otherwise normal day. All I want is a simple cup of coffee and a bit of conversation after working all afternoon, not another one of Joe's attempts to get me into his club.

"Come on, Mike, just give it a chance. Jesus," Joe seethed, his head shaking. He tossed Mike his best annoyed look of disappointment before tipping back his latte.

Jesus? Yes, that's exactly what I'm going to need if I'm going to make it through any sort of public exercise class. "I... I don't know, Joe. It's like, the complete opposite of how I want to spend a Thursday evening." Mike looked down, his gaze hitting his standard issue button-down flannel and jeans. A defeated sigh crept from his lips as he pointed at himself. "I'm not even dressed for something like that, and this class is in what, a half hour? I don't even have time to change clothes. No way."

Joe pointed his latte toward Mike as he rolled his eyes. "I've been telling you forever now that you need to get out more. You're turning into a hermit, Shinoda. Join with people a little." Joe shook a meaty fist Mike's way, his best jovial expression following it.

Mike felt himself smile a little. He's probably right, even though it kind of pisses me off. I really just want to go home, trade these jeans for some sweatpants, and eat leftover Chinese takeout. Trying to get little kids to put their fingers in the right place on piano keys over and over again all afternoon is enough to make me want to eat ice cream right out of the container for the rest of the night. It's the best way to eat away frazzled nerves.

"It's just one class," Joe said as he sat back. His wider frame looked a little funny in the tiny chair, but in the new aged coffee shop, everything seemed diminished. Minimalist, even. He smiled at his friend. "If I can do it, you can."

Mike almost snorted out his coffee. That comment had to be a joke. Joe had been a Black Belt since before Mike had met him a few years back. Joe was on the shorter side, but his Korean features and broad shoulders made him intimidating. Even to me sometimes, and I'm his friend! Mike looked down at the cheesy ceramic top of the small round table where they were sitting, unsure of what to say.

"If you don't like it, I'll never bring it up again," Joe said, his voice softening with sympathy. "I've been building my classes, Mike, and I'd love to see you come and check it out. Be a part of it. Be a part of something."

Mike looked up, his stare going sharp. "You'll never bring it up again?"

Joe's eyes sparkled as confidence that he was finally going to win this argument drifted his way. Flannel or not, he was going to get Mike Shinoda to at least come check out his karate club. He'd been after the piano teacher for months now, but with no progress. Now, however, victory felt close. "I promise on my grandmother's good name," he said, his right hand raised.

Mike weighed the only two options he had - he could go back to his tiny apartment and spend the evening trying to avoid conversation with his irritating roommate, or give in and go to karate. Maybe I should just get it over with.

"And look at the bright side; you might not be dressed for class," Joe added with a smirk as he looked Mike's outfit up and down, "but it's just right across the street. I'm not even asking you to fight the L.A. traffic to get there."

Traffic. That was the one thing Mike hated more than a room full of sweaty strangers, and Joe knew it. He knew that as long as Mike didn't have to get into his crummy excuse for a car and drive anywhere, he could probably get Mike to agree to one karate class.