Chapter Text
Sun Wukong was an artist and author, bored, creating angsty stories to deal with existential dread and feelings. To deal with that, he decided to make an annoyingly overpowered character, making him go through a backstory of long, angsty, mental health and physical issues.
...He just went through a breakup, okay? give him a break. He already had a few novels and comics finished and out, so he was making well enough profit - not to brag, he's a little famous - so he was taking a well-deserved break, which was fueled by the suffering of his dear characters.
But he is in a stump. All he could do was create problems for the poor six-eared Macaque, the said target of his suffering, and bask in his depression and mourning and then make him go cause everyone problems.
Maybe he was having a bit too much fun with it. What can he say? He likes dark and vengeful characters with a bit of a soft side. And what's a good story without a ridiculous amount of angst?
He stops writing and drawing a page with an illustration- showing Macaque once again, obviously emotionally scarred - at the sound of the doorbell. He places down his pen, smiling brightly as he opens the door to see MK. MK was a student in college - Sun Wukong far past that, nearly 30, which he shall never talk about, and had agreed to teach him writing and art, and also help him study.
"Heeeya, bud. What's that you got there?" He asks, leaning against the doorframe at staring at MK. MK had a stack of textbooks, as expected, but, unexpectedly, he had in his other hand a small bag. MK pushed past him with an excited, "It's for you!" and placed the bag along with the textbooks onto the counter. Wukong grunts in (lighthearted) annoyance, but accepts the situation, shutting the door and following him.
Opening the bag, it was a drawing of him and MK (with an embarrassing heart around the two), along with - he's assuming - handmade cookies.
"Aw, what's this?" He says, holding up the drawing. MK was a little childish sometimes, but it was cute. He ruffles MK's hair, looking down at him affectionately. MK, pleased to please, grins sheepishly back and scratches the back of his head. "Oh, uhm, just to cheer you up."
Mood drop. Ugh. But Wukong manages to take it in stride, barely reacting to the vague mention of his breakup, laughing as if it was all one big joke. "Nah, nah. It's fine. I appreciate the thought, though." He pulls out the cookies, burnt on the bottom, crunchy from being in the oven too long. Jeez, how does this guy live on his own?
Does he still eat it? Yeah.
"It's good!" He half-lies. Well, it wasn't bad. Honestly, it was somewhat good, sort of. Far too... well, crispy, but that was expected. Plus, with how MK's face lit up, he'd eat the most pitch-black overcooked cookies in the world with a smile on his face. Totally worth it.
Even though some parts of the cookie tasted like soot. The rest of it was fine. It's fine!
"Alright then! Shall we get started on your lesson?" Sun Wukong asks, leaning on the barstool in front of the counter, pulling out the one beside it, and looking expectantly at MK.
MK suddenly looks even more sheepish, avoiding eye contact. "Actually, I was just dropping these off... because, today and tomorrow, I won't be able to come. You see... I'll be helping Mei housesit... and I prioritize you way more than everyone else but you know... gotta help out friends at times of need... hero stuff?"
...This kid, jeez.
"If you want to have a sleepover with your friend, just go ahead. You know you don't need to come over and make a whole apology out of it, right kid? It's chill."
"I really am helping her housesit! Just... maybe a sleepover got into the mix." MK mutters the last part, eyes glued to the ground.
Sun Wukong ruffles his hair again, leaning down and smiling warmly. "Kiddo, it's fine. Go ahead. You're the one who decided to come here every day, you can miss out whenever. I'll see you later?"
MK brightens immediately, nodding. "Alright!! I'll see you! Bye-bye, Monkey King!"
Sun Wukong immediately flushes in embarrassment, shoving the kid out the door. "Don't call me that!!"
"No promises-" Slam!
The Monkey King - a character he might've, well, definitely did base off himself - and had written into a story. Journey to the West. Maybe Sun Wukong - the character, that is - was an OP power fantasy, but he was twenty-two when he started writing it! Don't judge him!
Either way, the story was about Sun Wukong, a monkey born from a stone who proceeded to cause havoc in heaven, then was locked up for maybe a little too long then mentally healthy, and forced to go on a trip with a monk and other companions for a group of scriptures. He was super into Chinese mythology at the time, alright? So what if he was a nerd?
The story was ongoing, and Sun Wukong - the person! - couldn't stop writing it because the webnovel had gone so fucking viral that it's basically part of life for some people. And maybe because he still likes writing about his overpowered annoying OC. Maybe.
But, at the time, he was having more fun with the six-eared Macaque. To be honest, maybe he should add him into Journey to the West? He already had a sworn brother of Sun Wukong's named the Macaque King. He can just insert him as that character. Plus, he was hot. Who'd complain?
But that'd mean he'd have to remove all the angst, probably. What's the fun in that?
He heads back over to his desk, hurrying to write. Maybe he could make an interesting dynamic out of Macaque and Sun Wukong? It's kind of hard to imagine interactions of a fictional character and a character based entirely on yourself, because, when with those interactions you have to imagine how you'd act. Which is slightly embarrassing. How would Sun Wukong, and Sun Wukong, react to a crazy, shadow-based loverboy?
Probably fall in love with him.
Sun Wukong slams his head into his tablet, grabbing a pencil and paper, putting it on the desk, and scribbling in frustration. He was throwing a bit of a fit. It's not his fault he made a character that maybe encapsulates all of his unhealthy fantasies of a relationship! And not his fault he made him hot! It was an artistic calling!
Stabbing the pencil down, he accidentally cut part of his finger, leaving him to yelp and pull the finger to his lip, sucking on the blood. He sighed obnoxiously, grabbing his tablet, the bloody finger smearing over the drawing of Macaque with a lovesick expression (let Wukong indulge himself!) leaving him to groan in mental exhaustion. He places the tablet on the charger and wipes off the blood with his sleeve, tossing the stylus, shoving the paper and pencil off his desk, and then flopping down in his bed. He was tired, feeling shitty because of a breakup, feeling left alone by MK, and wanting a fictional character that he created!
He went to bed with his head buried under the covers, despite the fact it was barely five o'clock. Why can't he just have a hot, crazy bastard of a man adore him? Okay, maybe not that. But the fantasies were nice...
When he awoke, he met orange eyes. The first thought that flitted through his mind was, wait, did I sleep with someone last night? And the second was, wait, I didn't even sleep with anyone this past month?
This resulted in, 1+1 = screaming very, very loud. In front of him sat a crouching man, equipped in comfortable, light armor, six multi-colored ears, black hair that was spikey with furry sides, dark skin, and a bushy tail. No. Wait. Hold up. He was a monkey.
And he knew that annoying, sneaky little face anyway. Macaque. Six-eared Macaque. In his bedroom. Looking at him. A fictional character.
More screaming ensued. After he paused to catch for breath, he got a - "Are you done?"
"No, in fact, I'm not done." And then he screamed in Macaque's face, as he politely worded it, "Get the fuck out or I'll beat your ass!"
Macaque raised a brow, tilting his head as one of his many ears twitched. A tail swish. Oh, god, Sun Wukong was feeling almost ill. What the hell was happening. Why was a fictional character in his house?
"Ah, a warm welcome to start off the day. Nice place you got here, peaches."
Peaches? What? Sun Wukong burst into laughter in pure shock, then it turned into violent coughs, which Macaque patted him on the back for. "How-" cough. "- are you-" cough, cough. "here?!"
"I'm here 'cause..." Macaque paused as if it were for dramatic effect. Sun Wukong stared at the monkey man, who, he'd likely traumatized a bajillion different times. Oops? "I love ya, peaches!"
Sun Wukong fainted.