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Kung Lao had gone through many pains in his life.
He knew what it was like to have broken bones, he was familiar with the sharp sting of lacerations. He withstood a thousand punches, brought to knees by powerful kicks. When he reflects on his battles, he can still feel the aching of his joints and knuckles that he ignored in the heat of battle. He never showed, but even years after the declaration of peace among realms, he could still feel phantom pain from his previous injuries. His nephew pointed out his habit of rubbing his neck, and Lao knew why. Even phantom pains can be felt across timelines, it seems.
Physical pain wasn’t the only type of pain, however. The first time he experienced grief was not the death of a relative, but the death of his pet rabbit when he was young. The rabbit was a stray that he wasn’t allowed to keep, but he still feeds outside their home. One day, it never came back. His father joked of its death, the nature of a wild animal, but Kung Lao could not laugh. He did not see its corpse, and maybe the hope of its return prolonged his first grief.
But then, he joined the Shaolin Order. He started to understand what it felt like to lose brothers and friends. The Shaolin monks were the first he truly considered a family. With Earthrealm constantly in a state of danger, they were often separated and sent into death missions like unknowing rabbits hopping to someplace else and never returning.
No more fooling around and skipping classes, no more drinking in the night with their masters. The more they return from missions, the more there were vacant dorms in the temple. Soon the night drinking was comprised of five or seven brothers gathered around a fire, the air void of laughter.
The clank of bottles.
He shook his head. Now is not the time to mourn. It’s supposed to be a day of celebration.
Kung Lao was not without his hat, but this was a wedding occasion, not a battlefield. He left it at home, suited himself properly, but it seems that he is unrecognizable without it as he hadn’t been approached by any of the guests since he came in here. That’s fine, he supposed, he didn’t want to draw that much attention anyway.
He found comfort in the corner of the reception area, blending in the pristine marble pillars of the palace like a statue. He watches the guests chatter and laugh, talking of a tale only they share. There was something nostalgic in seeing a group drink with smiles and reminiscing good times.
Soon the night drinking was comprised of two.
With nostalgia comes the aching emptiness of what is lost.
The air filled with heavy sighs and hiccups.
Kung Lao had gone through many pains in his life. He lost brothers and friends. He was destined to go through great pain the moment his mother gave his name. He can bear with physical pain, that is easier because it heals. It’s easier to ignore, it’s easier to train. But emotion is harder to tame.
Their masters in the academy often criticized Kung Lao for letting emotion control his actions. Liu Kang was always set as the model – an image of a collected and kind monk who does not show a sign of weakness. Though not as extreme as the Lin Kuei, the Shaolin was also harsh in moderating human emotion during training. What their masters do not know was how broken Liu Kang can be in his moment of weakness.
Locked doors. Stifled hiccups.
He held his hand and offered silence.
That’s why he and Liu Kang could only laugh about the lecture afterwards: the model was just as human as he.
He never really learned how to train his emotions properly. The masters only scold but not teach, and Liu Kang wasn’t helpful as he did not criticize him for it. In fact, it was an emotional connection that he sought for when he spends time with Kung Lao, because he could not get it from anyone else. It is one of Kung Lao’s prides.
It is why he suffers now.
He regrets opting to hold his partner’s hand when he could’ve patted his back. He regrets continuing the tradition of drinking at night with only the two of them. He regrets relying on only him for company for all those years because now without him, he drinks alone, the air whisking away mutters of unspoken love.
But apparently for Liu Kang, separation from Kung Lao meant a grandiose and bountiful wedding ceremony.
Above him, finally he sees the newly-wed couple, ringed-fingers entwined while they gave some speech about a good future or something he doesn’t care about anymore. All because of this stupid jealousy, these unresolved feelings he buried and hoped to stay buried until the time he joins it in grave. He knows he shouldn’t be looking at the couple with bitterness like a child who was denied a candy, but he can’t help it. If he knew how to control emotions, he would be looking at them with the fakest smile he can muster.
Elder Gods, may his soul be absolved of this petty behavior.
He wished he hadn’t left his hat, because then Liu Kang would not meet his eyes and look back at him with worry.
He hated that look.
There is pity in his eyes, and pity implied weakness. Kung Lao is not weak, or at least not weaker than people deem him to be. The Fire God denies it, but he had already bested him in everything – in combat, in attitude, in honor and praise, in being the damn Lord’s favorite - in love life. If he bests him in everything, at least let him have one thing:
Let him have his bitterness without being judged.
Let him have his grief of losing a friend, a partner and lover not to death, but to godhood and to the Edenian princess and Kahn.
Do Gods even need to wed? Or is this whole ceremony just an elaborate way of saying ‘I have no need for you, Lao, go wither away alone on Earth’?
He walked out to the balcony. The night winds in Edenia were cool, brushing past the leaves of trees he wasn’t familiar of what species it belongs. The flora of Edenia undoubtly rivals Earthrealm’s, in both its natural design and growth and the calmness it brings to Kung Lao’s mind.
He knows Liu Kang will eventually follow him here, but what would Lao say? That he walked out because he didn’t like the fact he fell in love with someone who wasn’t him? That on his wedding day?
Kung Lao paced around. He should be meditating when his mind is troubled, but meditating never worked for him anyway. Liu Kang was better at meditating, of course he is, he’s perfect -
He kicks a railing pillar. A piece crumbles away.
He should calm down. He can’t possibly hate and love a person this much at the same time. Yet again, he proves his masters right by letting his emotions change his demeanor. Now he’s tainted the very image of his partner that he fell for with his selfishness and envy. His heart is racing - maybe it’s anticipation, maybe it’s fear, or years of unresolved frustration resurfacing tenfold.
Maybe it wasn’t that he regretted holding Liu’s hand and consoling him through his lowest points. Maybe it was because he yearned for what didn’t happen when he did it. Maybe he regrets not taking action to make what didn’t happen into a memory instead of a daydream.
He was taught not to dwell on could’ve and what ifs. He was trained to focus on the next move. If you missed a hit, think on the next possible move and string it – turn your misstep into a momentum and hit twice the force. But it’s so hard to focus on the next move when he lost so many battles, lost so many people, lost his glory, and lost the only one person he ever thought of growing old with. Liu Kang was better at taking losses, he’s born with humility and a strong will that allows him to focus on moving on. Liu is a perfectionist, a master of compartmentalizing emotion, a master of rationalization, something Kung Lao is unable to do because of course one of them has to be the perfect one -
“I thought you left for good.”
Speak of the devil.
Or god, he supposed.
Kung Lao is not the most pious monk, but the radiance that emanates off the Fire God enhanced his preserved youth and beauty – whether that radiance was of his godly aura, his natural handsomeness or Lao’s feelings redefining his standard of peak attractiveness was not of importance as Lao ‘s heart continue to beat at the sight of him. The Fire God, draped in beautiful robes of white, red and gold, approaches him with two goblets and a bottle of wine. He offered the other, “Thought you need a drink.”
Kung Lao bows gracefully, “I am humbled to be in your presence, my Lord.”
The god before him snorted – adorable, but immodest for his status - and lifted him from his bow. “Lao, you talk as if we aren’t brethren. I thought I made it clear that we lose formalities outside of duty.” Lao internally scoffs, ‘Maybe we aren’t, my Lord.’
“Excuse me?”
Lao finally looks at Liu’s face – youthful and charming as he remembered it, skin radiating a godly aura - the god looks at him, brows furrowed in confusion.
Ah. Did he say that out loud?
“Nothing, my Lord – I mean, Liu Kang,” He hates the way the name rolled out of his tongue like a foreign word. “It’s best you head back inside. The guests will notice your absence.”
“And leave you here brooding like a sad old man? Besides, they must be eager to catch up on each other, it’s been a long while since our comrades have reunited. Let’s have ours.” He offered the goblet once more. Lao takes it, overthinking the way his hand brushed his briefly. The ring glints in the moonlight, he stops the train of thought.
“Ah, forgive me – congratulations on your marriage.” Lao wanted to smack himself for forgetting this - it was why he was here and he hadn’t even thought of greeting the groom since his arrival.
Liu chuckled but nodded his head, “And thank you for attending. I couldn’t ask for a better best man.”
Best man.
The one time he’s been chosen by Liu Kang and it was to be the best man. He should be proud for being chosen for the role, but he felt a twisting grip in his heart instead. He felt guilty for not being genuinely supportive of his and Kitana’s marriage.
“So I was wondering,” Liu Kang starts, a smirk on his face, “When will I be your best man?”
Lao couldn’t help but laugh like it was the best joke of the century. “My hairs are greying, you can’t possibly look at me and not think I’m too old for love.”
“Some people find love in their older years. Besides, my hair is grey too but Kitana did not find issue with that.”
“That’s because you still have youth. I’m past my prime. I think your vision has gone worse than mine that you do not see my sagging skin.” Lao says it jokingly, but there was also a hint of sadness to it. It was unfair that he envisioned his senior years with Liu Kang by his side. Lao wouldn’t have felt this self-consciousness over his appearance because Liu would look just as old as he. But times have changed and disparity grew between their relationship like tree roots cracking worn pavements as time, distance and circumstance drove them further and further apart. Now his senior years will be spent alone, withering away in his old home in the mountains as Liu Kang and his chosen partner remains youthful and bonded, loving each other for eternity.
He ignored the bitter pang in his chest. “Come on, where’s your game? You’ve always been the more active one between us, so to speak.” Liu nudges him teasingly. It’s true that he had more lovers than Liu Kang. He had both flirted with maidens in the nearby town, and discreetly slipped in abandoned areas of the temple with other daring monks. But they were short-lived and nothing in comparison to what he felt for his partner. When he had come to realize his feelings for Liu Kang, he could not think nor touch anyone else. It was the start of his curse of one-sided fidelity.
“Those days are past. Besides, I can’t, even if I wanted to.” It took the Fire God a minute before he let out a silent ‘ohh’ of realization. It took Lao another minute before he realized Liu misinterpreted his words. “Wait, that’s not what I –“
“No, I understand. Part of growing old, I forget, a natural process.”
Lao sighed as he explained, “I meant even if I wanted to settle down, I can’t.”
“Oh. Why is that?”
Suddenly, Lao wished he dropped it with Liu’s misinterpretation. His heart started racing – what is he, some sort of lovestruck maiden?
After a few moments of hesitation, he finally relented. “They can’t love me back, but I can’t let go either.”
He hated the weight of the air after he spoke. Lao had come up with eleven topics he can use to change the conversation now, but before he was given a chance, Liu had already broken the pause. “You have never told me this. She sounds very dear to you.” Liu spoke with interest but threads with caution of a possible tragedy attached to his story.
Lao knows his friend will continue to bring this up if he did not say this now, so with precise carefulness, he says, “I never told you because we had no time for such things. Always on the fighting ring, always on a brink of death. If we fooled around, if we stopped on our track for one moment, we could be…” He didn’t realize he was already rubbing his neck – a habit. “I was so scared to lose her without having spoken my feelings, yet equally afraid that I might lose her by confessing. Now that we are in the times of peace, I had time to ponder of how much I lost time and opportunity to tell you how much I love –“
The ring glints in the moonlight.
“ – her.” He took a deep breath. “It does not matter now. She’s found another, the only thing left to do is to feel happy for her and move on.”
His tone was somber, much that the air between them weighed. He tried to wash away the growing block in his throat with wine. What he said was true, but only partial of the whole truth - decades of regrets and loneliness born of unspoken love accumulated in his chest. He wished to unload them on the person he trusted most, but he could not. He missed the chance to because now only one of them is wearing the ring and the other was not on his finger.
“And just earlier you said you’re too old for love.” A mirthless jest. Liu found himself unable to find words, only offering a pat on the back, “She is a lucky woman to have earned the affection of the Great Kung Lao’s descendant.”
He smirked, “Quite the opposite, she is far greater than I am.” Liu looks at him confounded with a hint of amusement. “Who could be greater than a Kung descendant, I wonder?”
Who else than the person who bested him in every way?
Kung Lao would never admit it, of course, he’d take his pathetic unreturned affection with him to his grave. If he confessed, it wouldn’t only be his family or the White Lotus disowning him.
When Kung Lao opted not to respond, Liu knew it was a discussion for another day. “Why don’t we come back inside and continue there? It’s cold here.”
“I prefer this.” Lao takes a sip from his goblet before adding, “No offense, I mean. I like your party. It’s –“
“No offense taken. For all the theatrics you show in battle, I’ve known you like the quiet solitude better.” The Fire God smiled at him fondly, infectious enough to elicit a smile on his face. They rested elbows on the balcony railings, breathing in the wonderful fantasy-like scenery before them. Edenia had strange natural terrains, often the palaces such as the wedding venue were built atop the plateaus, near the steep cliffs and falls. The terrains are drastically unlevelled that from a top terrain, the rest of the lands below are covered beneath a translucent sheet of mist and forming clouds.
They drank in silence, and as the breeze glides past Lao’s skin, he was brought back to the past again.
The windy night, the faint merry chatter and the clinking glasses in the distant background – a lovely company by his side. The only thing missing was the sting of an alcohol passing through his throat as he gulps, and the warmth of a makeshift bonfire. The rich fruit wine of Edenia was too smooth and tame for his tastes, but Lao can’t deny it is a good drink.
As if his thoughts were heard like prayers, the Fire God conjured flame on his palm. “Cold?” He asked. Lao kept wondering if gods can truly read minds of their subjects or if it was yet another display of Liu Kang’s natural ability to read Kung Lao like an open book.
He shrugged it off, “Not that cold.” Unheeded, the Fire God transfers his fire to an unswept heap of drying leaves on the ground. Nostalgia hits him harder at these senses. Lao smiled fondly, “I can’t remember the last time we drank by a fire at night.”
“I can’t remember the last time we get together like this at all.”
“Busy life of a god, I understand.” He didn’t really understand what a god’s duties entails, but Lao supposed if it kept Liu and his wife apart most of the time, it must be greater than this small little human mind can comprehend. ‘It also kept you apart from him.‘ He shook the selfish voice away.
“Not an excuse. I should’ve been spending time with you.” Pity now was in his voice, the pity born of awareness of Lao’s decrementing lifespan. Kung Lao countered, “A god does not abandon his duties to indulge in frivolities with a mere mortal, my Lord. I can’t imagine Raiden would let you slip past this.”
“Raiden would understand, Lao, as I was mortal before a god. He was fond of our bond too. And it’s not abandonment to spare a portion of my eternal life with a person whom I spent most my mortal life with.” It’s true, they’ve never separated since they’ve met in their early adolescence. Most of their life had been spent in one another’s company - it was perfect, it felt natural to love Liu and he thought it was natural that his partner would love him back too. He was foolish, too passive in the comfort of their relationship, too cowardly to take his chances to make his love known. Now the person he loved his whole life has ascended several heavens beyond his reach, preserved in youth and glory and there in the heavens, he has found another equal to spend the eternity with while he’s bound to Earth, aging ugly and useless in wait for Death to take pity in him.
Suddenly, the nostalgic air became stale. He remembered his place, he remembered his life is several years away from ceasing and that it is merely a passing minute in Liu Kang’s eternal life. Liu will move on as fast as he left his side. He has forsaken him, as did his family, his brothers, and even that stupid wild rabbit.
How fast it felt that their history has now faded into glorified murals and insignificance.
“I think I’ll say what we’re both thinking: you want to spend time with me because you pity that I will die someday. You want to grant a dying wish.” He remembered his place: insignificant second-rate like he always was their whole life. Never a winner, never the favored, never the chosen – not even by Liu Kang, as a lover to spend life with until death.
The pity - he hates so much. If Liu was going to abandon him, then abandon him altogether – no wedding invitations, no drinking together and reminiscing. Leaving him with nothing to hope for was better, but no, he had to ask him to be the best man at the wedding. He had to come here at the balcony, had to remind him of everything he wished happened and everything lost by simply being.
The god gave him an incredulous look, “I want to spend time with you because you are dear to me, Lao.”
“Is that so? Because it didn’t feel like it when I wasted decades of my life alone in the mountains, uselessly lying around, wondering if you still remember my name!” His frustration started growing.
“Living alone in the mountains was your choice. I didn’t get a choice when godhood was given to me. Our comrades are with you on Earth, I have none. I am bound to my duties to the universe, but I never once forgotten you, Lao, not once.” Liu’s naturally soft-spoken voice became a bit stern, a sign of dislike to the tone of accusation.
Lao further spat, “You say you have ‘none’ at the day of your wedding. It must be insulting, being the Fire God’s spouse.”
“Do not speak ill of her.” A warning tone, one that Lao wished was not directed at him but rather in his defense.
“I was the one who had none, not even in our time as revenants. I rebuilt the monastery alone when I imagined we’d be doing so together – grandmasters as our claimed titles, the new generation of monks looking up to the best partners in history. Our comrades? They were yours, not mine’s. I was only tagged along, you know, like how others say it?”
“Lao –“
“Like a goddamn second-rate, some nobody who follows behind like a faithful servant to the Chosen One–“
“ENOUGH!” There was a wave of force that knocked a bit his balance as the Fire God elevated off the ground, a glowing blue aura emanating around his frame. “I thought we have moved past this, Lao. If I must state this again, I will: I do not like that think of yourself this way. You and I know the more you think this, the more we quarrel. I did not forget you, Kung Lao. The circumstances were in the way, and I regret not talking with you or leaving you an explanation the past decades. So let me make it up to you now. I never thought of you any less than I have as a mortal; my godly status shall mean nothing with you for you have always been my equal. You know this, you bear this knowledge with pride.”
There was an ache in his heart. Lao wondered if this was phantom pain from a timeline wherein he died by an enemy ripping out his heart. To hear him speak these words with sincerity hurt more than the hurtful words he imagined would be Liu’s response. Somehow, Kung Lao wished the latter happened, because numbing the pain by lashing out is easier than feeling every sting while mending wounds. Liu Kang could not be hurtful to him if he tried, and Kung Lao wished he was crueler. He supposed his unswerving kindness was his version of cruelty. He’s always been looked upon by his superiors.
A family who saw him useful for one purpose.
A great ancestor he swore must be scorning upon him for his weaknesses.
The Shaolin masters who shook their head at every failed spar.
The Thunder God who never looked his way in spite of his achievements.
Even his friends and foes joked about it. Along the way, it must’ve been ingrained deep in his head that he started believing too that maybe he will always be lesser no matter what he does.
But Liu Kang never saw him that way.
Liu saw his flaws but his respect for him never wavered, and he never understood why. Liu defeated him possibly more times than he won in their sparring. He had seen him lose his temper, his faith, his kindness - and yet, here he stands openly reassuring he isn’t the lesser mortal he is. Is it because Liu is so confident in himself, that he knows he will always be the better one so he praised his failure of a partner out of pity?
He felt the bitter pang. They are not equal, they never have. Every time Liu says that to him, it sounds so sweet that he almost believes it. He knows Liu Kang just says that to make him feel better, like he always does. Of course Liu Kang would, he has to be the greater one between them.
“You say that as though you do not emit an aura of god, looking down upon me.” Realizing he was still exuding power, Liu lowered himself to the ground with apparent shame. Lao continues, “Your equal is Kitana Kahn. If you think she’s not, you’re foolish. You are a god, she’s a princess and a Kahn, I’m just a human. What fool believes a human is on the same league as you two?”
“Our titles are not greater than our shared bond. You are not lesser for being a human.”
“Then you’re a fool.”
“If a fool is what I have to be to prove to you that you are just as important as Kitana and I, then I am.”
Lao lets out a self-loathing laugh. The wine possibly started getting to his head. He started to realize how stupid their quarrel is becoming. “Please go back to the party, my Lord -”
“Liu.”
“Okay, Liu Kang. Go back to the party. Your wife is missing you, I’m sure.” He tried to make the point clear by shoving his shoulder lightly. But like how determined Liu always is, the Fire God did not budge from his place. “My wife is spending time with Jade and her friends, as I hoped we would be doing as well.”
“Tough luck, then. You’d be wasting hours with an old man who has no tales to tell.”
He hears the god take a breath. That’s usually a sign of Liu clearing his head, or in other words, Liu trying not to get annoyed by Lao’s stubbornness. Kung Lao found it amusing and satisfying.
“Why do you drive me away? You say you’ve been lonely yet refuse my company.”
‘Because I yearned for you for so long that I fear if I let myself be comfortable with you again, I will suffer worse.’
“I do not want to ruin your night, Liu. This is your wedding, please go back in.”
‘Because our time is short and the remaining time we have will weigh me greater pain if filled than empty.’
Lao is sure the god has picked up the desperation in his voice. This day was supposed to be about his best friend and his lover wedding officially in the presence of their family, friends and comrades. This day was supposed to be a joyous celebration, a happy reunion. It seems that Kung Lao just can’t keep things to himself, he’s possibly ruined the groom’s mood by opening that stupid mouth of his. Maybe he shouldn’t have attended, maybe he should’ve left earlier after he’s done his duty as best man.
Liu Kang turns him around by his shoulder, “You haven’t ruined anything, Lao. Quarreling is the part of the nature of our friendship. I know something troubles you. Speak to me.”
He will not be vulnerable again.
“I don’t want to speak, Liu. Haven’t I soured the mood enough earlier?”
“You’re speaking lowly of yourself again.” The god warned, it pissed him off even more. “So what if I am? Am I not allowed to be bitter? Are you my master now, to police my emotion?”
Liu’s expression contorted that of frustration. Good, he should be frustrated with him. He should be angry and unleash his real thoughts about him, affirm him the truth Lao knows he’s holding back in fear of hurting him. Lao felt satisfaction in seeing the god’s brows furrow creases.
“Do not refer me as master. You are not lesser, you are my equal –“
“If I was your equal, you would’ve chosen me!”
He shut his mouth as quick as the words slipped. The wine must’ve loosened his tongue, whatever the fuck Edenians put in that thing. But you know what - fuck it. What’s said has been said. All this time he relied on Liu Kang’s anger to break it off with him when he had the power to do it himself. He held back because he was scared, but his wine-addled mind made him bolder.
“I know it’s selfish, but I wanted you to choose me for so, so long. I caved away in the mountains because I had no one left to spend the remainder of my life with, because I didn’t want it to be anyone else but you. I foolishly spent our youth in denial. I let my love foster and amount to no closure because I feared deeply that it would sever the only best thing I had in my life. I feared you’d leave and I’d be left a shell of a warrior everyone desired me to be – but it still happened anyway.” He blinks away the gathering water in his eyes, “I had you all those years but I allowed cowardice prevail and reduce my love for you into mere whispers in the night. And I feel angry at my own envy that I attended a wedding that was not ours, but yours with someone else. I know I should be happy for you, I know I should be letting go – say something, Liu Kang, tell me I’m a fool. Tell me I’m disgusting, that this is forbidden. Reject me, absolve me of this curse.”
The more he spoke, the more frantic it came out. Finally, he could not hold back the same tears he forced not to spill all those years of longing one-sided. He must look pathetic to the god right now, uncontrollably trembling as his tears created a fall on his cheeks, its currents harsher than that of the waterfalls of Edenia. He closed his eyes, refusing to meet the other’s – fearing he’d see the disdain he long desired from Liu and that would be the last look he’d ever see from him. He feared that he’d meet him in the eye and it’d crush all the subconscious hopes that gave him a shed of light in his dark and desolate life.
No more could have and what ifs.
No more daydreams before sleep.
No more Liu Kang, only the legendary Fire God and Keeper of Time.
What he will have left are distant memories of a person he did not lose to death, but to the bullshit fate of the universe he couldn’t care less about.
He felt warm hands place itself on the sides of his face ever so gently. He doesn’t know if it was Liu or a voice from his memory that told him to breathe, but regardless, he surrendered to the warm of the hands and took deep ragged breaths in counts. He recalls his breathing exercises during his training days at the temple. He remembered when Liu is sure their masters leave them be, he purposefully interferes his exercise as a “test of might” – a poor excuse to just mess around with him. Though it hindered Lao’s progress, he did not hate him for it. Contrarily, he allowed him to mess around with him, because Lao took pride in being the one and only person in the whole temple the champion himself chose to be openly childish with.
It took him some time to even out his breathing and finally muster the courage to crack his eyes open. He expected there to be a familiar disappointed expression; instead it was unreadable, an expression possibly torn between his vow of neutrality as a god and the sudden resurfacing of complex human emotion (if he felt anything for him at all).
“Lao… I did not know you felt the same way.”
Liu Kang’s hands slipped away. Kung Lao was pulled in a warm, secure embrace instead. There were so many thoughts running around Kung Lao’s mind, but all ceased quiet as he hears the rumble of Liu’s voice on his chest. “I’m – I don’t know what to say, or how to say this – I hope not to shatter your heart further, but if there’s any more perfect of an opportunity to confess, this is the time.”
Kung Lao didn’t care, he knew whatever came next out of his mouth will shatter his heart regardless.
“I cannot believe this either, to hear you have longed me as I have then. Consider us both fools, that we shared the same pain but kept to ourselves for the same reason: the fear of losing one another. I thought there was no chance that you’d feel the same toward me, I knew of your lovers and concluded I must stay content being only your friend. But believe me, I returned your feelings.”
All those years at the Shaolin – the careful brushing of fingers, the gazes of forlorn longing, the shared nights of hurt and comfort – they were real. All this time they were real yet he retracted his hand from the inviting warm ones of the other, and averted gaze when Liu tried to catch his. The nights when they embraced of desperation to stay alive and see their lives through ‘til a peaceful end, the nights that Lao had hopelessly reimagined to have ended in hushed confessions and entangled limbs in the silk sheets, the darkness of the night enveloping them safe from the burden of the world.
The knowing smiles they threw at each other in the presence of their masters.
The tears they bared to no one but each other during their drinking nights.
The tender touches as they washed each other’s wounds.
The sweet words they carefully constructed to mean anything but romantic.
They could’ve been more.
Lao broke away from the embrace, braving to meet him in the eye – pain be damned. “Then all this time, have we suffered for nothing?” He asks, tone near hysterical. He could not determine the weight in his chest, whether it was filled heavy or aching empty.
“Forgive me. Had I known, I wouldn’t have let you suffer this long. But time marched on and we became so different - died and made into monsters, revived and separated - and I feared that if I come down to you, you would not recognize me any more. I was so caught up in my own anguish, that I dared not think of yours. Now I know how wrong I am, how it made us worse.”
“And here I am, thousands of sleepless nights thinking the same.”
That’s it then, how it ends.
How cruel is that in the short span of his life, he could not even experience the love of this one man.
He expected more pain the more his thoughts raced, but oddly enough, he felt emptiness. Maybe he’s finally able to numb emotions as he would physical wounds, maybe the curse of his unrequited love has been finally lifted, or maybe this is what the worst pain emotion can bring forth: nothing at all.
Who knows anymore. All he’s assured of is that no matter what has been said or felt by them this night will change nothing. It will not change Liu’s feelings toward him or Kitana, it will not undo the decades of his suffering nor correct the regrets they made in the past.
The ring glints in the moonlight.
A beautiful ring of silver, adorned with foreign jewels he assumes were mined from the natural richness of Edenian quarries.
It suits him, a silver ring on a silver-haired man. But more importantly, he deserved it.
Lao ran out of words, but what does it matter, nothing he says will change anything now. Instead, his stare lingered on the god before him. Handsome as ever, with his strong jawline and high cheekbones. The structured face shape he had desired to cup and feel warmth, the lips he had always wondered what felt like, and the eyes that glowed of soft hazel, then of ember and death, and now of ethereal light. He drank in the sight of someone that was never his - could’ve been his – and now he will never.
After a long while of silence, Liu Kang finally spoke, “Please do not mistake this as the end of our friendship. I had been hoping we could still be friends, like the old days.”
“The old days are past.”
The sentence ended with a hang, uncertain of what positive remark he could follow up to make the mood hopeful. Lao didn’t know it was possible to hear pain in silence. Neither of them made a move nor uttered another word, both uncomfortable on the edge of uncertainty.
A soft snort breaks out.
Shortly after follows a quiet laughter, crescendoing into mirthless one. Liu Kang looks over his friend with concern and guilt. “How funny is it,” Kung Lao asks, “That we declare overdue confessions of a dead love like teenagers on the day of your wedding with someone else?”
“It’s not dead, merely… transformed.” It was Kung Lao’s turn to face him, giving him a puzzled expression. Liu Kang continues, “It’s not that I love you any less -”
“Just not the way I do.” Not anymore. He finished for him in a somber tone of acknowledgement. Lao takes a deep breath, “It’s fine, I understand. You should not have to apologize for my decision to keep wallowing in misery instead of moving on. In fact, you should not have apologized at all. I’m sorry, I do not seriously mean to put blame on you on something we both can’t control. And to think I’m still like this even at an old age.” He wipes the tears on his cheeks, “I apologize for acting childishly -” Liu intervenes, “It’s not childish to release suppressed emotion that you kept for decades.”
“I could’ve reacted better.”
“I’d rather see you disheveled in tears than controlled and detached.”
“What a weird god.”
“What I meant was that I’d rather you be your unbidden self around me than keeping things yourself as you have done.”
Lao only let out a noise neither of agreement nor disagreement. They fell back to silence, only this time, the tension had faded. The silence is familiar at least, it was the same one that they share on moments where they simply wanted the presence of the other. Neither of them really wanted to go back inside, but neither also did anything out here. They gazed at the scenery of Edenia before them, mindlessly emptying the wine bottle on each other’s goblets. They fiddled the goblets on their hands once empty, until they heard distant clicks of heels approaching them.
“There you are, I’ve wondered where you’ve been.” Said in relief by the bride herself, the long flowing skirt of her white, gold and blue-tinted gown dragging behind her steps as though a running river follows her trail. Kung Lao quickly straightened his clothes and bowed formally before the Kahn, “Your Highness.” She bows courtly in return. “My heartfelt congratulations on your marriage. May your joining be lasting laden of happiness and love.”
Just as Kitana was about to respond, Kung Lao had straightened to a proper posture from his bow and she had noticed the glassy glimmer of his reddish eyes. She shot a quick look of worry over to her husband, who almost immediately averted her gaze upon contact. She asked Lao, and by extension, Liu, “Is everything alright?”
He really wished he hadn’t left his hat at home.
Lao was quick to answer, “Of course, Your Highness. Just the after-effects of nostalgia coupled with wine, forgive this old man.” He adds, “By the way, the wine is exceptional.” She offered a smile with a leftover worry, “I ensured we would offer the best of Edenia in accommodation of the guests. You may bring some with you on your way home if you’d like.”
“It would be a pleasure and an honor to have received from you.”
“And it is mine’s as well. Why don’t we head back inside? There’s not much light here nor guests.” Liu Kang steps in agreement, “Yes, why don’t we?” Liu was about to place a hand on his shoulder, but hesitated halfway. Guess it isn’t only Kung Lao with an old habit.
Lao shook his head politely, “I appreciate the offer, but I much prefer to remain here.” The bride raised a brow, “Are you sure?” Lao gave an affirmative nod. “Hm, I pegged you for having a penchant for festivities. You’re welcome to come back with us any time, or if you’d like even, you can ask one of the palace servants to accommodate you a room for the night, should you desire to stay.”
“Your hospitality knows no bounds, but I must refuse the offer. I promise, though, that I will announce my departure.” She seemed pleased with the answer, snaking her lithe arm over Liu’s, tugging him away. The god shot him one last smile with an underlying worry before he took his leave, the couple’s voices muffling into the background as they walk farther from him.
Kung Lao had gone through many pains in his life.
He knew what it was like to have broken bones and cuts and burns. He withstood inhuman forces. He endured loss and grief, but not this kind. No one told him pain born from emotion, one as strong as love, could bring something far worse and lasting.
He turned back, resting on the balcony railings under the watchful eye of the realm’s moons. He wished he had more drink, because the silence and lack of company allowed intrusive thoughts to creep back in the space of his mind.
This was not how he imagined his life to end. After all those years growing up trying to fit the mold his family created for him, all those years of training and fighting for glory, honor and life, all the pain and hardships - he thought it would be paid in the end by a simple life of peace and retirement with the person he held most dear. He did not imagine losing his best friend, that he would wither away his last days on Earth alone and loveless, days of glory and purpose fading into tales. And most certainly, he did not imagine that all those times they’ve been together, the feelings were mutual, only unspoken.
Without Liu Kang, it seems like he was just an old man with a decorative name full of regrets.
Before they cut off contact for decades, Liu Kang had once told him of the vastness of the universe. He told him of the different dimensions and timelines that flowed like endless streams and pools. Liu often took breaks in-between because of how vast and both fast and slow-paced the universe moved for a new god like him. Kung Lao can’t grasp the concept, of course, but he was happy to relieve some of his friend’s burden by listening. Had they been lovers, Lao would’ve done more to ease his pain and burden.
He would’ve held his hand as his lover spilled the heaviness in his heart. He would’ve locked him in a secure embrace while peppering him kisses and hushed words of comfort. He would’ve massaged his temples and his tense shoulders afterwards, maybe brew him his favorite tea. Maybe his lover’s worries will wash away with good warm tea and a share of laughter.
Would have, could have.
He wondered if at that moment, Liu had been thinking the same.
Gazing up the star-littered sky, he couldn’t help but wonder if there were other timelines out there where his thoughts had been real. A timeline where they confessed early and spent their youth unafraid to love each other openly. A timeline where this wedding was theirs, where they rebuilt the Shaolin together and retired to humble home as he had always imagined.
A lifetime not wasted waiting in vain but spent fulfilled.
For it would be a world where I was yours.