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Light brown fingers weave through brilliant white hair, gracefully braiding it. Chrysanthemums are placed amongst the silky strands, an intricate act of love and doting. Wukong likes to take care of Ao Lie - he always did, of course, but nowadays something compels him to be even more caring and kind. Something that, if he thinks about it too much, starts to make his stomach churn and his heart pound and his eyes water and -
“Wukong?” A sweet voice of mercy rescues the monkey from the prison that is his own mind. “How’s it going? Your fingers aren’t tired, are they?”
“Don’t worry,” Wukong replies, used to putting on an act of nonchalance so that he can hide within himself undetected, “I’m alright. How about you? I’m not pulling too hard, am I?”
“No, no,” Ao Lie waves him off with a familiar laugh that fills the flowery field they sit in, “you’re fine, big brother.”
Wukong smiles as he places another bright orange chrysanthemum in Ao Lie’s hair. He’s two thirds of the way down, and he hopes the dragon prince will like the flowers he chose. The monkey peers over a green-clad shoulder to see what his brother is doing to occupy himself. Seemingly sensing the intruding gaze, Ao Lie raises a hand to block Wukong’s line of sight.
“It’s a surprise, don’t look,” Ao Lie scolds.
Wukong laughs as he leans back to his previous posture. “Okay, I won’t look, I promise.”
The two sit in content quietude, letting the chirps of songbirds, the hum of summer insects, and the rustling of the wind through grass fill the silence. The sun hangs heavy in the sky, beating down onto their backs, and as much as Wukong loves the freedom of an open field of flowers, he can’t wait to return to the cool shade of the forest not one hundred metres away. But he doesn’t rush his work, instead continuing at a steady, scrupulous pace. He plucks another chrysanthemum from the ground, wipes the beads of sweat from his brow, and weaves the delicate flower into his brother’s braid. A few times he fights the urge to try and peek over Ao Lie’s shoulder again.
Wukong is finished after another few meticulous minutes. Winding his tail around the end of the braid to make sure that it stays together, he picks up the green silk ribbon sitting on his knee that Ao Lie would normally use to tie up a half-bun. Sliding his tail down the braid just a little bit, he ties the ribbon into a perfect bow at the bottom. He huffs proudly at his work, inspecting the braid and the chrysanthemums woven carefully throughout it.
“I’m all done, how about you?”
“Almost…” Ao Lie mutters, and Wukong can picture him narrowing his eyes and sticking his tongue out in concentration. “And… done!”
The dragon quickly lifts himself onto his knees to turn and look at Wukong. In his hands is a crown of buttercups, all of them completely unblemished and so bright that they almost seem to glow.
“I thought the yellow would look nice with your orange fur,” Ao Lie says with a smile, holding the crown out to Wukong. “And… I know you’re conscious about the scar on your forehead. I thought you might like using this to cover it, at least for a little while.”
Wukong’s eyes and smile are both wide as he eagerly accepts the gift, readily placing it on his head. Ao Lie reaches out to adjust it, and Wukong scoots to shorten the distance. Their faces are close, and as green and amber eyes meet, Ao Lie giggles and moves his face a hair’s breadth away from Wukong’s to kiss his pink nose.
It’s Wukong’s turn to giggle now, basking in the tickle of warmth from Ao Lie’s lips that blooms across his face.
“Check your hair,” he says when Ao Lie puts his hand back in his lap and leans back. The dragon carefully pulls his braid over his shoulder and smiles at the orange flowers decorating his hair.
“They look lovely!” he says. “It seems you put in even more care than usual.”
“Only the best for you!” Wukong grins, ignoring the feeling of guilt’s claws, adorned with razor-sharp talons, ripping into his stomach and tearing out his insides so that they stain the green grass red.
Ao Lie sighs happily and lets himself fall back into the grass, arms and legs lax. His dark skin seems to glow in the sun’s golden rays as the scales on his cheeks and ears shimmer in iridescent hues of blue and green.
“Aren’t you warm out here in the sun?” Wukong asks, cocking his head but still joining Ao Lie on the ground.
“Yeah,” the dragon admits with a shrug, “but I don’t mind. Perfect days like this only come so often, I want to enjoy them.”
Wukong wants to agree, to relate, but he can’t. Ao Lie will live far longer than any human, but he isn’t immortal like his elder brother, who will see every perfect day until the end of time itself. Still, though, Wukong tries to soak in the surrounding scene and store it inside of his mind. The way soft jade grass tickles his cheeks, the buzz of insects flitting about from flower to flower, the sweet scent of chrysanthemums and buttercups. He turns his head to look at Ao Lie, whose eyes are closed as he inhales deeply through his nose and exhales slowly through his mouth.
Flashes of red fire appear in Wukong’s vision and guilt returns again, this time using its other gnarled hand to twist and choke his heart, making it thump, thump, thump faster and faster and faster until he feels it might explode.
No day could ever again be perfect, and Wukong knows this, but nonetheless he tries to push the feeling deep, deep down where it can’t hurt him - or Ao Lie.
The monkey reaches out to lace his fuzzy fingers with soft, smooth ones.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know…”
A moment of silence hangs between them.
“... but you don’t have to be.”
“But I do -“
“No, you don’t.”
I don’t deserve you, Wukong thinks.
No, you don’t, guilt says as it uses a third hand to dig into his eyes and force hot, wet tears out of them.