Chapter Text
Kung Lao can absolutely not stand his new roommate Liu Kang. Everyone at the Wushi Academy who is friend with him knows that for a fact. When asked for a reason, he could sit for hours with one leg up under his elbow, going on and on about all the despicable little things he enthusiactically hates about the poor lad. It always sends his listeners into a laughing fit, which further fuels Kung Lao’s belief that his brilliant story-telling effectively draws people to his side, while Liu Kang’s reputation suffers in the process.
For a starter, Liu Kang is undeniably younger than him; they only took the university entrance exam in the same year because Kung Lao was born in December – too late to go to school the same time as other kids his age. Regardless, from the first grade all the way to highschool, he’s been used to a certain level of respect from his classmates. They all referred to him as big brother, or at least acknowledged his seniority where it matters. Only Liu Kang ever dared to assume his age, and even worse to call him Laolao later in front of everyone. Granted that the younger man apologized when he was corrected, but the damage is done as other dickheads seem to have adopted that nickname behind his back.
Secondly, Kung Lao can tell from a glance that Liu Kang is one of those rich, spoiled city boys. His clothes are all so well-fitting that they must be tailor-made, his shoes shiny new and his speech accent-free like those reporters on evening news. When he arrived at the dorm later than everyone, he brought them snack and fancy stationary as an introduction gift. The self-righteous act of charity was clearly strategic, only aimed to make them feel so indebt that it’s harder to not tolerate his bullshit.
And don’t even let Kung Lao mention Liu Kang’s ridiculous hairstyle. Even though the Academy doesn’t have strict rules in that regard, no decent male student would grow their hair past their shoulders and let it hang loose all the time like a lion showing off its mane. As if to add another layer of perversion, Liu Kang only laughed it off when Kung Lao mockingly asked if he wants to star in a 90s Hongkong action movie.
“Yes, I love those movies! They’re why I wanted to start practicing martial arts in the first place.”, he answered almost cheerfully, “But I think your hair is much…cooler.”
Now THAT was a huge offense. Anyone with eyes can see that Kung Lao might as well be bald!
After an unsalvageable bleaching accident at home, Kung Lao had to swallow his tears and let the hairdresser shave it all off. While waiting for his scalp to heal, he can’t bear to let his hair grow more than a centimeter without scratching his skin to blood. The first few weeks were difficult, as he no longer had the heart to go out and enjoy his new-found freedom like others high school graduated.
It was not until Kung Lao received the acceptance letter from the Wushi Academy that things started looking up. His father was no longer angry, and mother would often say how his head has just the perfect shape for a buzz cut. Kung Lao also grew to love his new look. As far as he cares, this manly hairstyle is in thanks to that trending Street Dance show on the net.
That being said, Kung Lao is far from being naïve. He is well aware of the men beauty standards that drive girls crazy, and how most people, even from his generation, just can’t see the appeal of what he coined as “hip-hop fashion” yet.
Liu Kang should be the last person who gets it, dressing in a way so basic and sanitized like those main protags in some cheap high school drama. Not to mention that sly glance and dishonest half-smile. Kung Lao knows a backhanded compliment when he hears one.
He still remembers, how he was sitting there feeling so embarrassed, that his whole body heated up. If the other roommates hadn’t changed the topic so graciously, Kung Lao thinks he would have punched Liu Kang in the face and got into trouble because of it.
Liu Kang is always like this. Either too dense to catch the hint, or has been intentionally playing nice with Kung Lao to gain influence over his friends. Whatever the case, that brat is painfully insistent to tag along with him whenever he can. As first year students, their schedules are basically the same that it’s near impossible to avoid him on campus. The arrogant prick would enter a room and effortlessly hoard up all the attention, only to come and sit next to him like he’s invited. Same thing happened in the canteen, at the uni gym, and social events. Overtime, the professors and other students seem to wrongfully associate the two of them together, that Liu Kang’s matters find their way to him even in his absence. “Where’s your friend?” they would ask, and most of the times Kung Lao can only squeeze out a smile and tell them that he doesn’t know.
A sympathetic person would suggest Kung Lao to file a request and move to another dorm room if he cannot live with his mortal enemy. That he has tried, in fact, but the lady at the housekeeper office was not impressed by his reasons.
“Young people should learn to solve conflicts among themselves.”, she told him sternly and gave the form back, “If I must transfer a student every time they argued with their friends, they’ll need to build ten buildings more to accommodate you lot!”. So that is that.
When he was still a simple brat at his hometown, “conflicts” like this can easily be solved by the power of his fists. Boys having the name of other boy’s parents on the tip of their tongue, getting into fights for things as trivial as a handful of glass beads. They would be going home every day covered in dirt, often with bruises and scratches scattered across their limbs. But boys like them don't break easily. Whatever the injury, they would be friends again before it’s all healed up.
“Conflicts” in the adult world is nothing like that. Even if you hated someone with all your guts, you’ll still have to exchange pleasantries with them in public. Even if you looked down on someone, you’ll still approach them as their friend, with big smile and warm handshake. Kung Lao considers himself lucky for having got a taste of it as early as high school. He knows better now to not sabotage his own social life over a petty beef. But, oh, does he pray every day for the golden boy’s ultimate downfall, or a chance to get back to him with the adult equivalence of getting your underwear pulled up.
If the gods and buddhas listened to his wish, today could be the day. Coming back after a long shift at his part-time job, Kung Lao was annoyed to find the door unlocked while no one is home. One of the guys left to visit his parent over the weekends, the other must still be enjoying the date with his long-distance girlfriend. That leaves Liu Kang the only possible culprit, who must have left the room shortly for a quick errand. His sneakers are still lying around at the foot of his desk, along with the basket of clean laundry that he hasn’t done putting away.
Groaning irritatedly, Kung Lao drops his bag and let himself falls back on his bed. Hours of standing and serving customer in the restaurant where he works only weight down on his muscles now. So even though he could really use a quick shower right now, Kung Lao can’t will himself to sit up.
That’s when he felt a warm, wet tongue tickling his ankle, before the fluffy orange of a dog tail got in his sight. Letting out a quiet whine, the corgi looks up at Kung Lao as if it’s somehow expecting treats. That’s the security uncle’s pet dog, who has grown bold with people enough to roam free in the student dorm whenever it could.
“Shit, how did you get in here?” Kung Lao cursed, trying to lift the dog but giving up midway upon realizing how heavy it actually is. Pulling on the fat folds on its back instead, Kung Lao can only guess that it sneaked in some time through the open door before he’s home.
“You didn’t piss in my room, did you, Honey Bun?” he grimaced. But the one in question only stares back at him with its big blameless eyes, still waiting for food. Silly dog.
As if it can detect his bad thought, the dog finally turns away and leaves through the open door. Kung Lao watches as its big butt make a comical sight squeezing through the narrow gap. Sighing wearily, he also gets up, intended to check around the room just in case Honey Bun actually left them something nasty.
If you must piss on something, please at least piss on Liu Kang’s stuff.
There, a wacky idea struck Kung Lao’s mind, stopping him on his track. If that dog did leave a mess, it’s entirely Liu Kang’s fault for not locking the door. Peering outside the hallway shortly, Kung Lao confirms no one was around to catch him in his act. Swiftly, he shuts the door behind him and walks towards the beds. It’s now or never. Kung Lao has decided. Unzipping his pants, he takes out his little brother and holds it over Liu Kang’s laundry basket.
Some parts of Kung Lao know this is awfully fucked up. But the sight of the other boy’s utter humiliation is far too tempting in his mind. Also it’s not like he has enough time to second-guess, as his full bladder after a long work shift was already aching for a relief. Willing his tensed muscle to relax, Kung Lao watches how it starts as a small dripple, only to turn into a gushing hot stream.
Sploosh!
His piss sprays all over the basket, leaving its content absolutely drenched in that foul stench and yellowish color. Among them, Kung Lao can recognize Liu Kang’s gym clothes and even his white uniform. He moans at the physical pleasure and the dopamine rush fueled by his sadistic thought.
Shaking off those last few drops, Kung Lao fixes up his pants while admiring his little accident.
“Heh.”, he snorts, “What a bad dog.”