Chapter Text
Noise. Blood. Fear. Betrayal. Noise. Pain. Pain.
His body was battered and broken, the world around him much the same.
Blood rushed in his ears as much as it dripped down his hands. Why did he keep fighting? Why did he start this? Why did Wukong do this? Why, why, why??
It was the Monk's fault. And the other pilgrims. It was all their fault—
Wukong stalked forward slowly, bloodied staff lowered at his side.
Macaque scooted back. "Wukong, please."
He kept his pace, face a mix of angry and blank.
"Wukong, please!"
He kept moving forward, staff beginning to raise.
"Stop! You win! I surrender! Please, just stop!"
The staff gleamed red as it raised high.
"Please, WAIT—!"
Macaque gasped awake, clutching his right eye, his chest heaving.
Something landed on his shoulder and he yelled, scrambling away. He went weightless for a moment before hitting the ground hard and continuing to back up until his back he couldn't anymore. He panted and held his eye. Was he blind? Could he still see? He moved his hand away and—
It was blurry through tears, but he could make out his fingers, his palm. He could see.
"Macaque—" a wrecked voice called.
Macaque looked up. Wukong—his mate, his love, and the killer from his nightmare—had a horrified expression. "I'm not going to hurt you, I swear. I swear."
Something settled in Macaque, then broke. He reached for Wukong with a guttural sob.
Wukong answered without hesitation, tumbling off the beg and hugging him tightly.
"I'm sorry," he cried. "Macaque, Plum, I'm so sorry. I'll never hurt you, I promise, I promise."
If he was a bit more coherent, Macaque might question how Wukong knew what was wrong. But as it was, all he could do was hug his mate back, claws digging into his shirt. "Wukong. Wukong."
"I'm here. I'm right here. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—"
Macaque sobbed and held him close.
It was just a dream. That was all it was.
Just as bad dream.
—
There was so much destruction. So much fighting. So much blood.
"Wukong, please."
Macaque huddled in on himself, hands covering different wounds fruitlessly, red dripping between his fingers.
Wukong stalked forward. His didn't have a choice.
"Wukong, please!"
He slowly raised the staff. He had to protect his brothers and his master. He had no choice.
"Stop! You win! I surrender! Please just stop!"
He raised it high, tears burning his eyes.
Protect them, protect them, protect them and yourself—
"Please, WAIT—!"
Wukong awoke with a strangled yell, arms curling around himself as he trembled.
Macaque, his mind screamed. He reached for his mate instinctively, but Macaque yelped at his touch and tumbled off the bed.
Something broke in Wukong at that. He crawled across the bed, hand raised toward Macaque's shaking form. "Macaque—"
His hands were clutching his right eye.
Guilt tore at him from the inside. "I'm not going to hurt you, I swear. I swear."
Macaque's eyes were filled with fear, then with realization. He reached for his mate with a sob.
Wukong hurried off the bed, holding Macaque in his arms tightly. "I'm sorry," he cried. "Macaque, Plum, I'm so sorry. I'll never hurt you, I promise, I promise."
His mate hugged him back, clawing at him desperately. "Wukong. Wukong."
"I'm here," he said, holding him impossibly tighter, "I'm right here. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—"
It was just a dream, he assured himself. That was all it was.
Just a bad dream.