Chapter Text
If there was one thing Macaque tried to convince himself of, it was that he lived with no regrets. What's done was done, decisions were made and acted upon. Fallouts happened. But as long as he stood on top, then there was no room for regret or second guessing himself. Try as hard as he might to convince himself of that, he knew it wasn't the truth—what he felt deep inside ached to be let out.
He hated it. Hated how he was a bleeding heart behind the masks and walls he put up. Hated how easily Mk saw through him, broke into his shell and saw Macaque for who he truly was. Even if it was just Mk being overly optimistic, Macaque couldn't deny how Mk made him feel.
Vulnerable. Lost. Accepted. Confused. Grief. Hesitant… But the strongest emotion he felt when it came to Mk was Guilt.
Guilt meant he had regrets. Regrets meant he did something wrong—something unforgiving. He knew he did a lot of bad things, but he's never really had to face such an immense guilt until now. The only other time he felt like this was under the mountain during his fight with Wukong. Just the memory itself made Macaque flinch, his hands tightening into fists as he clenched his jaw. He glared at nothing in particular, as if he was frustrated at existence itself at the moment.
He'd done so much wrong, never apologized for any of it, and yet he was still seen as a friend by the heroes. The good guys. Macaque wasn't a good guy.
He scoffed under his breath, leaning back heavily against the trunk of the tree, one leg positioned up on the branch he was sitting on as his other leg and tail hung off the side.
Ever since the fight with Lady Bone Demon, Macaque had been going from place to place, sleeping wherever he could, eating from scraps he'd find laying around, and then the whole fight with Azure happened, and he found himself back at Flower Fruit Mountain. Wukong didn't know he was there, but Macaque preferred it that way. It made it easier to hide away from everyone.
"Macaaaaauque!"
And yet, the kid always managed to find him. Like an annoying pest he couldn't rid of. Or maybe like an infant monkey who seeked comfort from its mother. Disgusting.
Macaque makes a show of groaning and tossing his arm over his eyes.
"Macaque's not here, care to leave a message?" He drawls out, tail twitching as he feels the branch creak under him as an added weight dropped in front of him. He moves his arm slightly, unable to stop the way his expression warmed at the sight of Mk in front of him, smiling as brightly as the sun that shone from above. Huh, he just got deja vu for some reason.
"You could at least make it easier to leave a message to you, y'know? You don't have a phone or at least a P.O. box!" Mk shouts, trying to sound annoyed, but his excitement refused to let his tone shift into anything else. He still managed a pout, but his eyes were still bright. "Maybe I should withhold invites from you for now on, that'll teach you to stop slinking away!"
"Oh no~o, finally getting peace, quiet, and alone time. How horrible." Macaque teases in a fauxly sweet voice, to which Mk purses his lips, his brows knitting as he nudges Macaque's thigh, seriousness creeping into his tone as he inches forward on the branch, sitting criss-crossed in front of Macaque.
Macaque feels his heart skip a beat at their proximity, but he doesn't say anything, merely raising a questioning brow at Mk and the kid's actions.
…Okay, he knew why Mk was upset this time. Macaque kind of made it difficult for the others to find him after the last get together, where they had all gone to the beach, where Wukong—
"Did something happen between you and Monkey King?" Mk asks, his head tilting to the side quizzically.
Macaque is quick to deflect, letting out a scoff as he rolls his eyes, a corner of his lips quirking up into a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Loaded question, kiddo. Stuff's always happening between us-"
"I meant during the beach party." Mk cuts him off, scooting a little closer, as if he could read Macaque from the inside out if he looks deep enough. And honestly, Macaque was afraid of what Mk might see. "I saw you with him, but then you left as quickly as you showed up."
Damn kid, use your perceptiveness for someone else.
"And since then, I've barely been able to find you. Like you're avoiding me… So tell me what happened and I'll help fix it."
…What. "What?"
"You can't avoid this forever, Macaque! We're friends, aren't we? Friends go down rocky paths, but they stick together so no one gets left behind. I refuse to let you go back to your sulking and brooding, so just spill it, man!"
Macaque was stun locked for a couple moments, but then the word 'friends' hit him like a punch to the gut. He doesn't know why that word made his blood boil the way it did, or why it made his frustration spike, or why his stomach grew a nasty pit, but the words were falling past his lips before he could stop them. They burned his throat on the way out.
"We aren't friends, Mk!" He had shouted, resisting the urge to push the kid away from him. Mk leaned back on his own.
The anger died out quickly, especially when he saw the hurt, betrayal, and confusion in Mk's expression. Crap, why did he say that? The words were raw, filled with a venom Macaque didn't mean to spit out. But there they were, shot out in-between them like a missile aimed directly at Mk's heart. Silence followed, a long, tense silence before Mk swallowed the lump in his own throat, his hands clenching against the branch where he held himself up, needing something to keep him grounded.
"You don't mean that." Mk whispers, as if saying it any louder would shatter the air around them. "If you truly felt that way, you wouldn't be here right now."
Macaque averted his gaze from Mk, his throat closing up as he tried to find the right words. Before he could answer, Mk had stood up, bringing out his staff and preparing to leave. Macaque reached out to stop him from leaving, but he hesitated before he could hold onto the kid's sleeve.
"I'll give you your space, Macaque, but you're the one who needs to start reaching out to us, as well." With that, Mk leapt off the branch and shot into the sky, leaving without another glance back.
"Wait!" Macaque called out, but it was already too late. He looked up into the sky, hoping to catch a glimpse of the kid zooming away, but he couldn't see him from where he was sitting. With a deep sigh, he sat back against the tree trunk again and squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his lips together in a thin line.
…Fuck.
—
Macaque couldn't sleep that night. Every time he closed his eyes, the memory of Mk's hurt expression flashed behind his eyelids. The guilt was eating him alive, worming its way through every vein in his body until it was impossible to think of anything else. He sat up on the branch he was laying down on, knocking a few of the mountain monkeys off himself by accident, but they easily caught themselves before they fell to the ground. His breaths were erratic, his shoulders shaking from barely holding in the screams of frustration he wanted to let out.
Why did he say that to Mk? He didn't mean to. He didn't mean it… So why had it slipped?
He jumped off the branch, rubbing his temple with his fingers before stepping through a shadow portal. He needed to apologize, to make it up to Mk. He needed to be a better friend. Just that word made him shudder.
He didn't have friends, he was a loner. Even back then, he considered Wukong as more of a companion, someone he could be around and be free with, but friend didn't sound right for them. That didn't matter now, though, because he did have friends—at least now he did, but he hurt one of them. He hurt the only one who had given him his full trust without hesitation. Oh, how stupid he felt for not being able to let his walls down around Mk. The kid saw through them anyways, so why was he still trying so hard to keep them up?
Those thoughts were left unanswered, his mind shutting up for once as he walked along the shoreline of Flower Fruit Mountain.
"How the hell am I gonna make it up to you.." Macaque mumbles under his breath, letting out a deep sigh as he dragged a hand down his face, keeping his palm cupped over the bottom half of his face. He turned his head up towards the setting sky, a tug in his chest aching from something other than apprehension for the first time since the fight with Azure.
Searing, hot shame wrapped around his lungs like a vice, making it hard for him to think of anything else other than Mk. Mk's tone, the way he left, his eyes. It was just too much for Macaque to handle.
He ended up slipping through a portal, keeping to the shadows of Megapolis as he passed by stores, his eyes skimming over the products as if he were window-shopping. He passed by food vendors, stalls, restaurants, and even that stupid arcade that was always too damn loud. Nothing felt right. It was all just material things, stuff Mk could get any other day.
Macaque was never good at the whole "apologizing" thing, he didn't know how to do it without it being a grand gesture of putting his life on the line to show he regretted his actions (even if he wouldn't say it out loud), to show that he could be trusted again… But that wouldn't work here. In fact, Macaque was sure that Mk would just get even more upset if he actually did end up doing something life threatening to himself.
He wasn't good at gift giving, words got caught in his throat before he could even speak, and he just genuinely didn't know how to communicate to Mk that he was just…
Macaque sighed before he could finish that thought—he seemed to be doing a lot of those recently, huh.
He shoved his hands in his pockets, refusing to admit that he was starting to get cold. Ever since being revived, the harsh chill of nighttime air bothered him more than it should, as if it had burrowed beneath his skin and found home inside his bones. He hated the feeling of sharing his body. With the air, the Bone Demon—he just wanted it gone-
Ah, but he was getting off track, he was meant to be looking for something to get Mk, not get annoyed at his own inability to feel whole.
After what felt like hours of walking and the urge to just give up and wallow at Mk's feet, Macaque suddenly stopped in front of a lone vendor. The old woman was further from the main market, nearly being hidden in the alley she had been in, but Macaque had picked up on her presence immediately. The old woman simply smiled at him in greeting, her wrinkles shifting slightly as her lips tugged up. She didn't say anything, but Macaque didn't mind. He watched her for a little, almost entranced with the way she threaded yarn together to make bracelets, attaching charms as she worked so they would be held in place.
Then, his eyes landed on one of the bracelets off to the side. It was the only one that was crafted with only red string. There was a type of tube charm on it, reminding Macaque of a particular staff. He crouched down, trying to get a better look without touching it, but then he saw the old lady's hand reach out for it, her fingers slightly shaky as she took it gently from her carpet and held it out to Macaque with a kind smile.
"O-oh, uh, how much is it?" He didn't even say he wanted it yet, but Macaque wouldn't back out now, that'd just be rude.
Before he could grab his wallet from his pocket, he felt a cold hand touch his wrist. He looked up in confusion, but before he could open his mouth to speak, the lady had gently tugged his hand towards her, putting the bracelet in his open palm before curling his fingers over the bracelet. They stared at each other for a moment, but it was the lady who broke eye contact first and went back to threading her bracelets.
Macaque's tail twitched behind him curiously, silently intrigued by the woman's actions. He held the bracelet in his hand as if it were the most delicate thing on Earth. He stood up, looking down at the lady before giving a curt nod.
"Thank you." He says. No reply, but Macaque didn't mind, he just turned around and walked away.
Weird…
—
Just getting one thing surely wasn't enough. Yeah, the bracelet reminded him of Mk a lot, that was probably a good apology gift, but it felt like it was just some weak apology. Night had finally claimed Megapolis, neon signs lighting up the main roads and overnight markets. The city seemed to be more lively at night, but luckily for Macaque, there weren't as many crowds to deal with.
Also, he was pretty sure he dissociated and went on some kind of autopilot shopping spree because he suddenly had a bag of Mk's favorite snacks (he would deny paying attention to what the kid liked) and a small red envelope to put the bracelet in. It was stupid and should've definitely been more than just two words, but he wrote "sorry :( -macaque" on the front of the envelope.
He used a shadow portal to leave the bag on Mk's desk in his room, deciding to just leave it there for the boy to find when he woke up the next day.
Macaque had to force himself to take a deep, steadying breath. The last time he brought someone a gift as an apology, he had been yelled at and had a falling out with them. That fallout led to his death—and while he was sure Mk wouldn't kill him like Wukong had, he should at least prepare to be yelled at for not groveling and apologizing like a normal person would've.
That gnawing feeling in his chest hadn't gone away. Macaque was up on a rooftop, watching the sun rise as he sat cross-legged on the edge of the building. Wind whipped through his hair and scarf, but he had become so numb to the cold that he hadn't even shivered as the wind blew harsher.
Winter nights were awful, but the mornings were somehow even crueler.
Gosh, why couldn't he just be a good person. When he was younger, he knew how to let go and be—what he and Wukong considered—"normal," but that old him was long gone, replaced by someone who only knew how to be selfish, how to manipulate people, how to betray, and hurt. He didn't want that anymore, but he spent so long seething in his anger, replaying his last years over and over again, jealousy coursing through his veins like a wildfire—all because he wanted to be the one by Wukong's side. He wanted to be the only one who got to stand next to him as his equal.
But Wukong had replaced him- it was deserved. Wukong had abandoned him- Macaque did it first. Wukong was to blame- it was all him.
…Macaque almost forgot what it felt like to live without so much hatred in his heart.
He was slowly, but surely, getting over his past. He may not be able to rectify what had once been, but he could learn to rebuild, to start from scratch with the people who cared about him.
But, of course, there were days like yesterday where Macaque took three steps back. It was like his own brain was trying to sabotage him, knowing he truly didn't deserve the chances Mk and the others were giving him. If he cut ties now, he'd be able to save himself from the heartbreak later.
Just the thought made him shudder. Another handful of years spent alone, feeding on scraps, no one to yap his ear off about everything and nothing, no stupid puppy videos being shoved in his face, no bowl of noodles during weekly hangouts, no one to simply be next to in comfortable silence…
Macaque could pretend all he wanted, but he wasn't the lone wolf he tried to convince everyone he was. He seeked out warmth and company—even if it could be too loud at times—because he hated being alone, hated the pit in his stomach that would grow until he physically couldn't stand the self-made solitude anymore.
He shook his head, getting rid of the thoughts that kept invading his head. He was meant to distract himself from his thoughts about how much he didn't deserve Mk's friendship, not to drown in a rabbit hole of his own self pity.
Macaque hasn't felt this nervous before. It was just an apology gift, and Mk was kind, so he would either accept it, or he won't. Mk wouldn't suddenly turn on him and betray him over this, right? He wouldn't blame him, but it was an honest mistake. It wasn't an excuse, but the label "friend" just held so much baggage he wasn't ready to deal with. Friends meant you had a connection, you had a partner by your side, someone you could trust—he wasn't sure if he was ready to trust.
Mk was. He could make friends with the dirt if he truly tried, and Macaque was terrified with how much Mk had seen the "real" him, the young Macaque he tried to bury six feet under. That was the old him, someone who died by the hands of his best friend-
Ah, there he went again, thinking things he shouldn't.
It was all in the past. He and Wukong were getting better.
So why was Macaque still so afraid of being vulnerable?
He shouldn't be hurt by betrayal anymore, he should be numb to it since he's gone through it so many times. He needed to get over it.
With that thought in mind, Macaque decided it was time to get some rest. This rooftop was one of many that rarely got any visitors, and since he didn't want to make the trek all the way back to Flower Fruit Mountain (an excuse since he wanted to see Mk), he decided to take a quick nap up on the roof. Surely no one would find him this far up.