The weight increased again, dropping him to the floor in an instant. He skidded to a stop and caught his breath, light and strained as his chest muscles tried to inflate his lungs against the huge weight on his chest, and looked up quickly. He was on the floor now, on his ass as he struggled to sit up. 

There went An, floating through the air with the greatest of ease, like some daring young man on a flying trapeze. Weightless. He was also flipping around in the air to drop a kick on him. 

Idea. 

Johnny bent his knees and braced his feet flat against the floor. Gathering pockets of air under his feet, he blew those to propel himself up over himself, folding his body in half as he brought his knees up.

The flying kick was soaring down at him, and he met it with his own. 

Johnny pushed with all his might and shot both his feet upwards, building concussive pockets of air over his heels as he met the kick, feeling his soles come into contact with An's feet and, more importantly, popping the air bubbles.

The force of the air pockets would shoot straight up through his body, like he had jumped off of a really high height and landed square on his heels without bending his knees and legs to compensate for gravity. And since the guy was floating weightless, not only would this force injure him internally, but it would catapult him straight into the ceiling with all the force of a semi truck. 

And, of course, if the counter happened to miss, the pockets of air would go off anyway, sending a blast of air that would still slam An painfully against the ceiling.