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Starting way back in his youth Wukong and his monkeys would throw a great deal of parties, the first of which was a celebration of a new king and his brave discovery; The one where he leaped from the rocky ground through the harsh curtain of water, landing on a bridge leading up to the Water Curtain Cave. They had gorged themself on the vast and lavish banquet left out in the magical place, guzzled up the fruit and curiously engaged with the silky smooth wine. Inevitably ending up downing that as well. That night had been the first time Monkey King came into contact with alcohol, and it had been a pleasant first. The comforting buzz and the giddy chirps of his newly crowned subjects making for a joyous and happy evening. A rare memory Wukong could look back on without any guilt or fear- simply just smile at the thought.
The second big celebration Wukong recalled quite clearly was the welcoming feast for an odd looking ape, a certain six eared macaque that the King quickly grew to be fond of. Liu’er had been scared and skittish and first, never one for big crowds with loud noises, and so he had stuck to the edges of their cove and cowered whenever one would approach. Wukong recalled how this reaction had confused him greatly at the time- the macaque had come searching sanctity, but now when he was offered his own feast he hid away in the shadows and towed by the walls. Like him the ape had been born of heaven and earth, had no mother or father and such no real family to speak of. Unlike him however, Liu’er had not had a nearby troop of monkeys to take him in and keep him as his own, he had instead been forced to wander the great big forests of flower fruit mountain and learn himself how to survive in such a thickly populated and unforgiving world. Monkey King had not drank much that night, instead opting to provide comfort for the new addition to his tribe. He’d dragged the anxious ape away from the festivities and settled outside on the edge of a cliff- looking up at the stars with a six-eared companion by his side. It became the first of many.
Once the brotherhood and the revolutionary speeches came into play, drinking had developed into a significant part of both his and his friends' schedules. They would boast and sing, make up big elaborate plans of a brighter, freer future and toast their drinks with loud clinks- all of it of course under the rose-tinted glasses of youth and ignorance. Wukong still found himself looking back at this with warmth, it didn't matter that the promises had turned out empty and the dreams futile- they had been happy. Times had been good.
Eventually their good fortunes ran out and he was captured by heaven. Any and all luxuries were ripped away. He had been kept in a constant loop of failed executions the first few days. Each one more brutal and painful than the last. Though of course it never mattered. The immortal Monkey King was not one you could kill, no matter how hard you tried. The oven had been quite the traumatic experience- he didn’t recall how many days he spent trapped in that blazing heat, hadn't bothered to actually ask around. All he remembers are the sensations. Skin dripping off his body, chunks of meat boiling underneath it. The thick horrible smoke swirling within the ovens confines- seeping into his lungs and eyes, making it impossible to breathe and poisoning any semblance of oxygen seeping in by the closed lid.
When he finally managed to escape he’d fled as quick as he could- relying only on the feel of the wind and the thickness of the air to find home. His eyes stung too heavily of smoke to be of any use. He’d collapsed in front of his warrior, long since having been crowned second in command and begged for comfort. His Liu’er had held him with strong arms and as the king sobbed, had tended to his wounds and did so with a care and love that had made the beaten king sob even harder. He’d said no words of the years since the king's departure, nothing of his disdain for Wukong's long stretched time away. He only soothed and loved. Wukong drank that night as well, not for joy but for pain. He drank away the burn. His warrior let him.
They waged war against the heavens in the following week. They lost. Every revolutionary dream or hope of freedom crushed up in the sand. Sun Wukong was forced into a choice- their dreams or the lives of his brothers. He chose his brothers, he surrendered- learning only much much later that the brotherhood thought it treason.
Entrapped by the five peaked mountain as punishment, the monkey served his sentence for 500 years. Forced to consume the cobble and dirt pressed through his mouth and the burning hot magma poured down his throat. Even after his freeing the king found himself still chained to wills not his own. His master was a buddhist man, he abstained from both meat and alcohol, and so the only times Wukong really drank was when he and the other disciples (he had yet to dub them brothers, the sting of old hopes still too fresh in his mind.) ran off to have some fun for the night. Those memories were the last he had of drinking with joy and not out of need.
After three years of travel and one and a half of complete abstinence (their master had caught them red handed- they were forced to swear off alcohol.) their path barred by a familiar face, one Wukong had longed to hold for millenia. One he still, during the darkest of nights, would pretend was by him- lurking in every shadow or fleck of darkness, a quiet companion for when times got rough.
Lui’er Mihou was furious and heartbroken, he’d approached the king silently. Dragged him away from his group without their knowledge and exploded in his face. Accusations of betrayal and broken promises rolling off his tongue like no tomorrow- though a lingering of relief could still be found in his eye, a small snippet of hope for a promise not yet lost. It was clear now that their years of departure had made the warrior restless, forced to sit by and wait every time the king decided to leave for lavish adventures. Mihou had grown tired of it, resentment and hurt festering in his chest for every year spent apart. The Wukong of the past though had not understood this and when faced with great anger had felt his own rage rise within. He had been the one to suffer through torture, he had been the one abandoned under the mountain- hopelessly sobbing for help. How dare Mihou accuse Wukong of betrayal.
The fight was a verbal one, horrid words thrown out aiming to hurt. “Go home." The king had told his warrior eventually, tired of it all. “Go home and wait, I’ll be there once I finish the journey.”
He recalls Liu’er had frozen then, eyes wide and filled with sorrow. A hint of anger lingered within “You choose them over me?” He’d asked in a painfully quiet voice. Wukong had only turned away, too cowardly to meet the others’ eye. Still bitter over their argument. “Just go home Liu’er.” He didn’t want to explain it to his warrior, he didn’t dare. It was shameful the shackles he’d been placed in- forced to kneel and serve at every command. Humiliating.
He couldn't see his warriors expression, perhaps if he had things would have played out differently. But as it were Wukong took the warriors next words as only a stab to hurt. An empty threat with no real weight.
“I’m done waiting for you.” Wukong was a fool for thinking his warrior would not act.
The attack had come only a day later, silent but deadly just as Liu’er always was. A poisoned drink was handed to his master, and then once the monk took too long to taste- a quick lunge for his throat. What happened after was rather blurry to Wukong, he recalled the quick movements of Baije to drag Master away from the blow, remembers the quickly developing fight and remembers the fear and anger burning through his every vein. Had his master been killed then he would have never been granted forgiveness, would have been stuffed back under that mountain and left to rot til the end of time. Why couldn’t Liu’er see that? Why couldn’t he have just left? Wukong remembers the bitter confusion and anger that had swirled through his gut in that moment, remembers the overwhelming pressure of the gods watchful eyes staring down at his every move. He was being mocked, he thought. This was all a sick joke.
In the end it only took a single well placed blow from Wukong for his beloved warrior to crumble. The limp body still in a way only death provided. Blood flowed out from his cracked skull.
A moment of silence and confusion before the harsh, horrid and never ending grief hit. Like golden metal against fragile bones. Wukong remembers blood.
-
A loud crash brought the king out of his sickening thoughts and dead red eyes glared at the broken bottle below him. The liquid of the now broken vial was splashed against the floor, drink pooling uselessly by his feet drenching the whole room in its thick stench.
He moved to stand, weight teetering off towards the side before his feet were prepared to move. The stumbling carried him towards a wooden wall, his whole mass crashing against the obstacle and he gripped onto it desperately for support in his unsteady stance. Wukong pressed his cheek towards the wall, it was cool against his own blazing heat. A tad bit of relief from the overwhelming storm of his head. He felt sick, his tongue was numb in his mouth and he couldn’t keep track of his limbs. Everything was spinning, he needed to puke.
A bit of drool fell from his mouth onto his arm, lazy eyes looked as the sticky substance rolled through the fur and dripped down to the floor. The king pressed a steadying hand against the wall and pushed his way up into a full stance again, somewhere in the back of his mind he registered liquid gushing up towards his mouth. Breaking off into a quick and sloppy run he rushed forward and slammed open the bathroom door, proceeding to empty his stomach in the toilet.
Everything came flowing down the moment he was above the toilet seat, the retching dragging any remaining bit of energy out of him. A shiver ran through his body, sweat clinging to his back. His head was a gargled mess of half spun thoughts- drunk mind only able to register the bright blaring light above him and his constant heaving.
Everything hurt, he couldn’t fully comprehend anything further than his own two hands and just thinking was enough to make him gag.
After a little while the king slumped forward against the toilet, exhausted body having finally passed out. He needed to stop, didn’t want to do this any more- this was the last thought on his mind before the alcohol dragged him into shivering sleep.
- - -
A Week later and Wukong was powering through a freshly formed headache, eyes guiltily seeking out the cabinet at the bottom of his pantry- the one he knew filled with liquor of every kind. He looked away, tried to push away the thoughts but they kept clinging on. Had Wukong been a stronger man he would have walked away, would have had the self discipline to throw out all the booze in his house and swear himself to abstinence. Wukong however, had always been terribly weak, and so soon he found his hand gripping against the cool neck of a darkly coloured bottle as his fingers nursed the liquid inside with small circulating motions. The pleasant buzz it formed was enough to wipe away any and all concerns if only for a moment.
A thoughtful hum left his lips as his mind started to wander- it always did when he drank.
“You get back here Monkey!”
The soft green grass pressed under his feet as he ran, the fresh air rushing past him felt so wonderful everytime it rustled his fur. The movement was still so foreign for his limbs, stale muscles not quite keeping up with the commandments of his brain- the five centuries spent trapped beneath rubble and stone creating quite the disconnect.
“Not a chance, you ugly boar!” Wukong’s joyous laugh rang out against the green hills they trampled over. His brother Zhū Bājiè in hot pursuit of the thievery king.
“Hey now- Monkey! Baije! Please stop it with your fighting!” The panicked scold of his master was lost to the wind as the demons carried onwards.
“Give that back! You know those berries are a rare kind!” Baije managed to grab hold of the giggling ape, the two of them falling down to tussle over the stolen berry cluster.
“Yeah and you’ve been hoarding them all to yourself you gluttonous Pig! Share some with the rest of us.” The much smaller body of the apricot ape looked almost comical pressed down by the hefty frame of his brother- still the monkey keeping his ground without breaking a sweat, fending off the other with only his arms and a wide grin.
Soon the voice of Tripataka could once again be heard past the whistling wind as the rest of their party approached. A big hand grabbed Monkey by the scruff of his neck, the ape hanging limp like a cat- taking the opportunity of his free hands to quickly gobble up the remaining berries. Opposed to him hung brother Baije just as Monkey himself, though, admittedly the Pig demon's height carried him a lot closer to the ground.
Wukong spared a glance at the tall demon holding the two of them up. If brother Baije was considered big, then this beast was colossal- the grey almost blue tinted skin of his was tough and formed, a large sculpted chest and strong muscular arms making for a terrifying display to any who might look. His orange mane was tattered and unkempt, bleaked dry by the sun. His brother Shā Wújíng held them up with a clinical expression. Offering no attention to the two and instead staring forth towards their Master.
Tang Sanzang or Tripataka as he was also commonly known, rode over to the trio on the long elegant horse form of Ao Lie- yet another disciple of the Tang Monk. Sazang slid off the horse, working to straighten out his simple orange robe before fully facing the hanging forms of Wukong and brother Bailje. Focusing in on the Pig first.
“Hey now master, I was only teaching Brother Baije to share” Monkey said through a mouth full of berries.
“Oh, you’re teaching me now!? Please he was stealing master, he took my precious food!” The pig gestured angrily towards the golden ape whilst keeping eye contact with Tripataka.
“I did no such thing!” Wukong huffed and crossed his arms, turning his body away as best he could within the hold of Brother Wújíng.
“Sorry to say monkey,” A deep rumble came from behind him, Shā Wújíng speaking up for the first time that day. “But as it would appear the evidence is painted over your cheeks.”
True to Wújíng’s words, the monkey's cheeks and lips were stained red, a little bit of berry juice even having dripped down his chin and dirtied his robe.
A silence took over the group as all members finally looked at the state of their prideful ape. Soon laughter rang out with Baije cackling the loudest, flailing in the Sand monk’s grip at the discovery. Master Sanzang was not short behind, attempting to muffle his chuckles in the thick fabrics of his arms- the horse behind him held no such courtesy and huffed loudly as he stomped his feet. Even brother Wújíng, well known for his stony and cold nature, let out an amused huff before dropping the two demons to the ground.
“You are truly like a child!” Cried the pig in the midst of his laughter, “Little brother Wukong! "Oh- Little brother Wukong!”
“I am older than all of you!” Monkey chided with an angry growl, cheeks turning red even below the sticky berry juice.
“Older but smaller” Baije mocked “Even tinier than Master, a small little brat.” Wukong bristled at the comments, tail lashing out furiously behind him.
“Now, now. Let's calm down, the lot of us.” His master spoke through gentle giggles, raising his head from his arms and kneeling down in front of the dirty ape. A teasing grin played at his lips.
“You go and clean yourself in that river there and we set up camp for tonight, alright little one?” His master raised a hand to pat the monkey’s head- smiling goofily when the words clicked in the ape’s skull.
Wukong turned around deciding he had enough of the mockery and promptly stormed off towards the river. He ignored the roaring laughter behind him as well as the warmth settling into his stomach, opting to scrub away any stupid affections with water and soap. He ignored the burning skin of his head where his master had touched.
A few hours later Monkey found himself next to the human form of Ao Lie, the rest of their band having laid down to rest for the night.
“What?” Monkey questioned at the fond look the dragon disciple cast at him. He shook his head, smiling at the ape.
“Nothing- it’s nothing really. Just, you looked happy today.”
“Happy?” Wukong questioned, confused by the focus.
“Mmhm, it’s the first time I’ve seen you smile like that in a while.” The dragon rested his head against the top of Wukongs, sneaking his arms around the shoulders of the monkey and pulling him into a sideways hug- Wukong let him, this time relishing in the ticking burn that ravished him with the contact.
“Ever since- '' Ao Lie stopped the sentence midway, careful to approach a subject he was sure could send the ape into spiral. Wukong tensed, just as aware of the predicament before them.
“The dark-furred Macaque.” he finished quietly, observing the monkey and his reaction. Wukong had gone stiff as stone, eyes wide and alert as he started away at nothing- posture resembling a scared rabbit in the way it shrunk in on itself, looking only a moment away from fleeing all together.
Ao Lie hugged him tighter, turning his body to properly wrap his arms around the other. “You still have told me nothing about him, not even after all these years.” The suggestion was an open one, silently nudging the ape to speak more on the strange six eared mimic whilst still leaving room for avoidance.
Wukong kept his mouth shut, teeth biting down so tightly against his cheek that he could taste the blood starting to leak. There was a heavy ball of sorrow in his throat, choking down any and all words even if he wanted to speak. The familiar guilt arose from the darkness and clawed at his gut- every time the dragon squeezed him tighter the feeling awoke anew. Stabbing down with the notion that he didn’t deserve this comfort, he didn’t deserve to mourn. He definitely didn’t deserve to weep for someone he slayed himself.
The dragon only sighed at the silence, nuzzling his head further into the monkey's fur.
“I’m sorry for bringing it up.” He spoke finally and that became the last uttered sentence of the night.
When Wukong finally awoke from his drunken stupor he did so with a bleeding heart. The memory that had resurfaced with his indulgence was painful enough to tear at his long battered soul. He had avoided the comfort of his brothers then, had turned the way out of pride and shame. Had deemed himself unworthy and therefore hid from it.
Now he doesn't care for his pride anymore. He doesn't care for his shame or his worthiness. He knows he doesn't deserve anything short of torture but he couldn’t bring himself to care- he had always been selfish. He needed the others again, needed their hugs and their comfort. He was just so tired of being alone. He needed his guiding master, his teasing brothers and all of their warm love.
But of course, dead men gave little comfort.
- - -
Sun Wukong sat alone in a bar. It was a quiet and empty one. Located on the outskirts of town the place saw little clientele, the sunken in wood well scratched furniture spoke of many decade's use. Wukong sat straight back with a cool beer resting against his palm. He was sweating and his eyes struggled to focus even if he had yet to drink all that much. Though the place he impulsively entered was mostly empty he still felt incredibly out of place, every passing glance serving to isolate him from the few other customers. No amount of glamor or human disguises could hide away the sad sight of a man drinking alone in an establishment meant for company.
His fingers rubbed against themselves in nervous habit, the odd sensation of clothes against skin was ticking him off- causing his already capricious nerves to blister up further. Somewhere by the counter a conversation was going on between two older women, the two of them laughing quietly whilst discussing the previous week. Every so often the clinking of a bottle would make the young bartender known as well.
The entire space filled with soft jazz, echoing out from the busted stereos stood just by the register. Wukong leaned his head back against the couch he was sitting on in a poor attempt to ignore his anxious gut.
Why had he even come here? His loneliness had tugged him out the door, had practically forced him forward and now here he sat, people around him but no less lonely. At least this way his under indulged mind could pretend to be part of a conversation. Could dream himself away to believe he was chatting with the ladies across the room, that he was drinking with company for the first time in well over a century. God he had become pathetic.
He swallowed down the rest of his drink with a quick drag, that was the third of the night.
The soft creak of a door being opened spread through the bar, three pairs of footsteps followed. Wukong paid it no mind, too busy swirling his beer can and throwing up a pity party.
“Hey son, pass out the usual, yeah?” Wukong could feel himself tense immediately, he knew that voice. His blurry eyes sharpened with recognition.
“Thank you.” Another voice Wukong knew far too well. He gripped his drink harder, the luckily now empty can clenched together under his forceful administrations.
This was just horrible, he couldn’t see them. Not after last night. The memory of his brothers was still too fresh in his mind, the sight of them would surely be too much. He needed to get the hell out of here.
Before the ape in human form could do little more than stand however he felt a large warm hand press down against his back. A light but comforting pat bringing his attention to the demon now stood beside him. His booming but kind voice just as painfully familiar as the previous two.
“Hello there friend, are you alright?”
Wukong felt his mouth go dry at the words. Sandy stood before him with a small smile, eyes kind and open in a way Wujing never was. He dug his claws into the meat of his shoulder, a small tremor shaking his arm.
The silence dragged on, Wukong gaped like an idiotic fish. Mouth opening and closing as his mind grappled for something to say. Eventually he gave a curt short nod only to respond, staring down at tightly squeezed fists to avoid the steady gaze of his dead brother- The wet tears tugged at his eyes like heavy boulders- begging to be allowed release. He didn’t let them fall.
“Hello?” His familiar voice echoed in Wukong’s mind. A deep rumble, maybe a touch lighter- slightly less monotone, but otherwise all the same. It was Sha Wujing’s voice- Sandy in this lifetime.
“Yes.” Wukong somehow managed to choke out, eyes still firmly glued downwards. His harsh tone made the other pause for a second before lifting his hand away.
“Are you alright?” Sandy questioned again. “Yes.” The monkey king responded just as before, only this time a more hushed neutral tone. Good, that was good. He could do this.
“Alright” Wukong knew the man didn’t believe him “Well would you mind if me and my friends joined you for a bit? I don’t believe we’ve met and we kinda come here a lot.”
The silence that stretched was tense,
Too lost in his own thoughts Wukong didn’t notice that the silence dragged on again, Sandy took the silence as answer and assumed he’d somehow offended the strange ginger man.
“Ah- apologies then, sorry for the interruption friend.” Wukong felt that his heart slam against his ribcage painfully as Sandy turned away, that old pathetic longing forcing his hand making him speak.
“No! I uh- no it’s fine. You can sit here.” The cry came out rushed and Wukong immediately bit his lip, the shame almost enough to rival out his longing.
Sandy turned back towards Wukong, eyes a little shocked at the sudden shout but soon they turned back to kind and he nodded with agreement. He went off to pick up his own drink and spoke some quick words to the others. The three of them quickly collected their things and headed back towards Wukong. Sandy settled next to him in the booth whilst the other two sat opposed. Wukong kept his eyes down, regretting his quick mouth and dreading whatever stilted conversation was sure to come.
“So” Pigsy was first to speak, the usually stiff and accusatory tone he held when addressing the king swapped out for a much more pleasant and neutral one. Still maybe a tad bit rough but Baije always sounded a bit angry even in his kindest of moments so that was nothing new.
“What’s your name, stranger?” The pig spoke, taking a big clunk of his drink just after.
Wukong felt his mind bristle, unsure what name he could give. Panicked, he uttered out the first one on his mind. “Mihou. Liu’er Mihou” He quietly cursed out his own idiocy and prayed to whatever god he had yet to anger that Macaque, wherever he was, had not heard. Even more silent he felt out the name on his tongue, heart heavy at the now unfamiliar syllables.
“Alright, I’m Sandy and this here is Tang and Pigsy.” He gestured towards the others letting them have their own moment of greeting. They indulged in a bit of casual chattering, a short conversation with some formalities like where Wukong lived and how long he’d been living in the town. Wukong answered the questions best he could, relying entirely on vagueness to carry him forth without too many lies. Eventually the focus shifted away from the anxious ginger man and Wukong let himself quiet.
Pigsy, Tang and Sandy happily discussed back and forth about this and that, Wukong lost track of the subject of the conversation after sports turned to food and food turned into tv. His own mind started to wander again without him even meaning it to.
The ape became so caught up in his own mind he didn’t notice the focus had shifted to him yet again.
“Mihou?” The name flew forth like an arrow to his heart- it was so different to utter the name himself and to have someone else speak it. It had been so long since he’d heard it.
“Mihou…?” Master asked again and all of a sudden it all became too much. The faces, the voices, that fucking name. The panic that had been simmering since the trio joined finally broke surface- Wukong could do nothing about it.
“Sorry-” The monkey choked, his voice sounded scrambled and disturbed, very clearly heavy with emotion. It was obvious as day something was up but still Wukong avoided the other’s face- turning away like it was the plague itself.
A wave of nausea overcame the haggard ape in disguise, his eyes shot wide. A deep, throbbing grief overtook. It was all too much. He moved to stand, pushing past the confused demon. His first thought was to leave but to get to the exit he would have to pass by all three of his brothers and so the bathroom was the best place to go. He rushed inside sparing half a mind to lock the door before collapsing in on himself and letting him just lie and ache for a moment. The nausea went away as quick as it came so instead he took to just lying there. Curling up on the dirty bathroom floor and shivering in the still dark room.
The memory was upon him before he could repress it.
“Brother Monkey,” It was Wujing that spoke, the deep voice was rough from disuse- the sand demon rarely talked.
Wukong gave no answer, claws too busy tearing into the shaking limbs that were his arms, hot red blood pooling from the wounds.
“Brother Monkey.” Yet again Wujing called, voice just as unreadable as always. This time moving to settle a hand on the ape’s shoulder, perhaps to steady the shivering ape. Wukong flinched away from the touch, baring his teeth and snarling in blind fear, tail lashing out behind him in obvious distress. His mind was racing, he could see little more than the blood that painted the ground, then the corpse that it framed.
He was there again, staff splashed with red as a sickening crunch took root in his mind. A broken sob from the body below him before it drowned out in its own gore. The pretty black fur that always grew lighter during the summers, the well trimmed claws that would pluck through Wukong’s own mane and reprimand him over recklessness. The gorgeous golden eyes that would squeeze together slightly everytime he smiled.
All of it was gone now, dirtied, sullied. Killed off by Sun Wukong himself.
His claws digged further into his limbs, perhaps if he pressed hard enough he could tear an entire arm off- maybe the pain would help focus his rampant mind. His heart beat loudly in his ribcage, a strange wheezing sound followed everytime the Monkey tried to breathe. He couldn’t think.
“Brother Monkey, it was a dream.” Wujing spoke to comfort, or at least so the ape thinks but the information provided little help. He kept wheezing.
Suddenly something soft and heavy fell over his head. The monkey snarled, once again blindly snapping at whatever the offending object was before the fur registered in his mind. Under the blanket-like drape Wukong’s eyes were covered, the fur smelled like crushed up almonds blended with salty shorelines. Without really thinking about it the ape relaxed under it. Finding comfort in using a sense other than his bloodshot eyes.
To his right he felt the heat of another body, Wujing still sitting by him. He listened to the steady breathing of the demon beside him, focusing on the structured pattern Wukong followed. Every time a slow inhale echoed through the quiet camp the monkey copied- breathing in. Everytime a heavy exhale flew away from the form the monkey copied- breathing out. The exercise helped ground him, eventually he found himself aware enough to peek out from the soft furred object- a pelt he realised, probably of a wolf or maybe a very big fox.
Wujing was staring up at the stars above them, body so still Wukong could have mistaken him for a sculpture had he not felt the heat. Just far enough that to feel warmth without actually touching.
He tugged the pelt off of his head, wiping away the shameful tears that had gathered under his eyes and stood up facing the other. The silence dragged.
Wujing appeared unbothered by the movement, eyes still staring up at the sky even as Wukong spoke- words a tad stilted and ashamed. “Thank you.” It was a small admission of gratitude, something the prideful king was not known to share- yet something about Wujing just made such things easier. His quiet, stoic nature probably played into it. Wujing gave no indication he had heard the phrase, his big body was still tilted upwards, eyes gazing up at the great expanse of nothingness that was the star flecked sky.
Wukong stood for a moment, looking up at the stars for a second before dropping the pelt in Wujings lap and turning around- headed towards some of the trees along the edges of the clearing to rest in.
Wujings watchful gaze lowered from the sky, instead falling down to observe as the orange furred ape descended into the darkness.
A soft knock echoed throughout the small bathroom. A voice followed it. Wukong could barely make out the speech in his moment of hysteria but the low tone was indistinguishable enough to know who it was. Sha Wujing, Brother Wujing, He was there- back from the dead.
Caught up in his own head with a mind clouded by longing, Wukong ripped the door open. Leaping forward he embraced the other before he could think better of it, the big muscles that sculpted and formed the demon tensed up in shock, there was a solid pause of startled confusion before finally the body relaxed into him. Wukong had almost feared he would be pushed away before the confirmation of support came.
Wide arms wrapped around him with a steading grip, the warm weight burned his skin- a scorching touch he wanted to both escape and indulge. The pitter-pattering of his rabbit heart had yet to slow.
Wujing sat there holding him as Wukong pressed up his head against his brother's chest. They had never touched for this long before, those few moments of friendly intimacy always ended as quick as they came. He was sure they would return to that after this moment but right here and now the king wanted to satiate his burning longing.
The rise and fall of his brother’s chest lulled him into comfort. Soon he sobered up enough to let go of the poor demon and look up at his eyes. Something was different- the ape noted, his brother looked less stoic- more open?. Wujing opened his mouth to speak, the world froze over.
“Uh- friend?” Wujing rasped “I’m sorry, do I know you?”
Shock. Grief, and then Shame. The world came rushing back to the king. Reality transformed into a boulder of hurt. Sandy sat before him, confusion and worry written plainly on his face. His skin a touch too soft, his hair a tad too bright. A hint of pity shone in his eye, this was not his brother.
Once again stunned into silence the king stared, he felt the disappointment flow through as the last bits of fantasy finally left. Right, Sandy wanted an answer.
“No, sorry- I-. No, we don't know each other.” He pushed away from the half embrace they had devolved into and then proceeded to disconnect from the comforting heat completely as he stood up. Doing his best to ignore the shivering protest raking his body at the loss he brushed himself off.
“Sorry.” The shame coloured him red, he avoided eye contact.
“No, no. It's fine. I was a little shocked is’ all.” Sandy stood up brushing himself off as well. Wukong was still feeling just as bad if not worse now that the embarrassment was mixed in with everything.
Driven by shame Wukong tried to walk past the blue demon, only to be stopped by a rough hand brushing against his wrist softly grabbing hold of it. Wukong recoiled at the touch, the comforting warmth had now turned into a scorching heat.
“Sorry” Sandy apologised briskly after seeing the young man’s apprehension. Sandy breathed deeply for a second and then “Are you sure you’re alright?” The question made Wukong tense.
He looked over his shoulder, doing his best to mask any negative emotions as he spoke “Yeah, I’m perfectly fine.”
The blue demon was left alone in the small hallway as the other vacated. His figure appeared calm but a subtle tensing could be made out within his sculpted shoulders. Eyebrows furrowed together as a confused frown tugged on his lips, eyes watching as the strangely familiar ginger man made his leave.
Right as the other turned the corner something seemingly alive slipped out from his hoodie. An auburn coloured tail hung limply- one Sandy was sure he had seen before.
“Huh”
- - -
Pigsy stepped forward towards the quiet, closed noodle shop. All lights were shut off, the only sound stemming from the rustling of keys as Pigsy fiddled with the lock. Eventually the door opened and the pair of three stepped inside- taking measures to stay quiet so as to not wake up the kids.
“Is it just mk here tonight or are those two having a sleepover again?” Tang asked quietly, a touch of fondness in his tone.
“Just Mk” Pigsy huffed, turning on the lights in the kitchen.
They sat down by a table, each with a warm drink in hand. A small bowl of chips stood in the middle of the table, Tang reached over to grab a handful.
Pigsy sipped his coffee, eyes staring out at nothing as he spoke. “Mihou huh?” Another sip. “The guy’s a little- … strange.”
Tang hummed in agreement “He is, I like him though. Seemed really sweet- if a tad quiet.”
“I don’t think he’s all that quiet” Sandy cut in, slowly moving the spoon in his tea back and forth- the movement produced a comforting clink each time it accidentally hit one of the sides. “He just needs to warm up to us, I get the feeling he usually plays a jokester.”
Pigsy hummed, dragging his eyes from the window and onto his two companions. “Oh yeah Sandy?” The large man perked at the mention “Why’d you even decide to sit by him? Don’t we usually sit closer to the bar?”
Sandy shrugged halfhartedly “I don’t know.” He answered truthfully “I guess I just-” He raised his hand to scratch at his chin, trying to find the words “He seemed sad, upset over something. I wanted to help.”
“I feel like I’ve met the guy before,” Pigsy said. “There was something incredibly familiar about him but I can’t quite place my thumb on it.” Tang nodded with agreement, odd, they decided. Maybe he just resembled someone they knew in their youth? It didn’t really matter, it was no one they really knew. Not in this lifetime at least.
Sandy clutched his cup harder, silently deciding whether he should tell the others. Eventually he decided against it and simply drank his tea in silence.
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