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Macaque lay on the soft grass, his split colored fur brushing against the grass’s own prickly tips. He watched as stars speckled across the sky, glimmering and shining as if they were celebrating and having a party. He shut his eyes to listen in on the tranquility of his surroundings. Barely in the distance he could hear the other monkeys chattering with each other, though he could hear the exhaustion in their tones from where he lay.
The grass rustled beside him as footsteps approached him. He peeled an eye open and glanced up at wukong. “May I join you?” the other asked quietly, as if afraid of disturbing the peacefulness of the moment. Macaque simply patted the grass beside him with his tail. Using his hand would’ve felt like too much of an invitation, too willing and too hopeful; but nodding felt as though he minimally tolerated Wukong's presence.
Wukong lay down beside him, uncomfortably squirming into a position he could consider satisfactory. He also perked his head up toward the sky, admiring what he considered the universe’s work of art.
“It's so beautiful, isn’t it?” the ginger whispered.
Macaque raised a brow at the phrasing of Wukong’s statement, pushing down any feeling that lingered on the hope of wukong meaning something deeper than that. as if Wukong would ever say something like that, and as if Macaque would ever believe it.
“T-The stars, I mean. And the clouds," Wukong quickly corrected himself, his face flaring up with embarrassment as he covered his lower face with his hand. After the momentary lack of composure, he continued, “the earth is constantly being ruined by humanity, but the sky never changes. its beauty never dies.”
“You’re right. I never thought of it that way,” Macaque replied tenderly. His voice was lush and quiet compared to Wukong's energetic tone—which was still apparent despite how much he was whispering.
Macaque had viewed the sky as something that had laughed at him, taken everything he loved away. He thought of when Wukong had been trapped in that sky. Thought of how the sky capturing wukong had torn the two apart. They truly were like the sun and the moon—when one dawned, the other outshined. While Wukong perseveres, Macaque always follows shortly behind.
“The sky always helps me when I’m feeling sentimental about the state of the world, I guess. It’s always watching. It cries for you.”
Macaque peered over at Wukong. “Does it really?”
“Yeah.” Wukong glanced up at the sky, as if seeking out a confirmation, before turning his head to macaque again. “Yeah, it does.”
“What else does it do?” Macaque pondered on quietly, though Wukong still heard his hush tone over the sound of crickets and monkeys and the peaceful silence that filled the air between their words.
“Well, I personally think the stars listen to what you have to say. When I’m, um, not feeling my best, I’ll seek out advice from the sky. It always listens, always sparkles back to me.” Wukong didn’t turn his gaze from its fixation on the twinkling night sky above them, so Macaque felt inclined to peering up at it as well. No matter how much he squinted at the bursts of dust above them, he couldn’t seem to understand the expressions Wukong saw.
“Do they respond to you?” A stupid question, really, but macaque still felt that asking was necessary, as if he were missing a deeply buried morale the sky held for him.
“If you listen closely enough, you just might hear what they have to say.” When Wukong turned over he could see the hopefulness on Macaque’s face. He could see the small doubts, the questioning of whether or not Wukong was toying with him and waiting to humiliate him. “Go on, give it a try,” Wukong encouraged.
“In front of you?” Macaque gawked at him. The suggestion felt absurd, impossible. He couldn’t possibly dump out his problems to nothing, especially not with the chance of humiliation or no response at all.
“See me as more of, um… a translator. Who knows, maybe you won’t know what the stars are saying.” Wukong shrugged. He failed to suppress the sheepish smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. Macaque raised a brow, doubting the other mystic monkey.
Macaque peered up at the stars again. “I don’t know, should I even do this? He’s pranking me, isn’t he?” he asked the twinkling, dancing bursts of energy. He didn’t even receive the chance to sigh before he heard Wukong scurrying to his side.
“They said, ‘yes’ to the first question, ‘no’ to the second one.” Macaque rolled his eyes at Wukong’s goofy behavior and gently shoved the male away, the soft sensation of his ungroomed fur taking Macaque by surprise. He sought an answer from the dazzling sky above them again. The stars only shimmered, but he could’ve sworn he only heard positive affirmations, somehow. He peeked at Wukong, who was distracted by the sky, turning away when Wukong caught his glance.
“Fine, then,” Macaque whispered. He tightened his fists anxiously, scratching the tips of his fingers against his palms to relieve the fear of speaking. “Oh, man, I don’t really know what I’m doing.” He could hear his heart thudding against his chest, as if the sound was booming loudly against his ears.
“Say whatever comes to mind first. She’ll listen.” Wukong rested his arms behind his head as he lay back on the grass. He shut his eyes, preparing to listen closely to whatever Macaque would mumble–if he even did.
“I don’t know, maybe I shouldn’t. I mean, there’s nothing on my mind anyway. I don’t need to talk to her!” Macaque bluffed shyly, desperate for a way out of the situation.
“Does what you wanna talk about involve me?” Wukong asked quietly, unmoving and relaxed on the lush grass.
“Yeah.”
“Then talk. I’m listening. I hear you. I’m not going to interrupt you.”
Macaque turned around, eyes lingering on the male. No words left his lips, yet Macaque still found himself hoping Wukong heard his feelings. His mouth ached from the unfamiliar feeling of genuinely smiling. He forced the smile down and swung back around, full of disbelief at his own thought processes.
“You won’t judge?” he asked doubtfully.
“I won’t judge.”
“Do you promise?” Macaque asked, pained. He felt his throat going dry from the embarrassment of it all. He felt like a child clinging onto a false belief, as if he were trying to convince himself that all of it could come true again. He sucked in a long breath, hoping the breath could suck in his tears as well.
“Yeah. I promise.”
Macaque fell silent. The words felt like a sweet bouquet of roses, roses that secretly held hives of bees and pain. He refused to dig another grave for himself, literally and metaphorically, thanks to naive trust he offered to people–people being Wukong–and attachment to people who would not offer him a second glance.
“The last time you promised something to me, it ruined everything. For both of us.” Macaque didn’t avert his gaze from the stars. He hoped they could hear him now, hoped they listened actively and understood his pain. Would they descend down and wipe his tears when he cried?
Wukong stood up from where he lay and approached Macaque, sitting beside him. “The last time I promised you something, I was young and stupid and ran into things headfirst without thinking. I didn’t think we had the ability to fail or ever get caught.”
He paused for a moment, but decided to continue when he noticed Macaque’s pained expression out of the corner of his eye. “I doubt you believe me, but I’ve learned a lot since then. Reality isn’t as peaceful as we had expected it to be. Promises are harder to keep than they seem.”
“Are you saying that because you’re giving up?” Macaque whispered. He stared down at his hands now, scared of what he would witness if he turned to Wukong.
“No,” Wukong answered boldly even though his voice was still quiet. The reassurance sent a circuit of hope through Macaque’s body. “I’m saying that because I’ve acknowledged both sides of it. It’s hard, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try. I’m more than willing to try.”
Wukong reached over and clawed Macaque’s hands apart to stop his intermittent scratching, keeping his fingers wrapped around Macaque’s hand. Macaque let it happen.
“I’m never giving up on us again, I promise,” Wukong concluded, voice muffled from his free hand covering his face.
Macaque gazed at him, intrigued by Wukong’s efforts. It made him wonder if they had a chance again. He nudged Wukong away, a sheepish smile creeping onto his face. “Pshfft, that’s so dumb, Wukong.” He didn’t actually mean the retort, but he was too embarrassed to respond any other way.
“Um, would you like to try talking to the stars now?” Wukong asked, sounding shy almost with the way he hesitated with his words. He averted Macaque’s field of vision when he could feel the embarrassed heat on his face. This sort of communication felt so unfamiliar to him, he felt like that young version of himself stumbling and staggering into scenarios. However, this time, he understood more than his own individual self; he could see Macaque and understood him.
“I don’t think that’s necessary. They listened and gave me the answer I needed,” Macaque whispered quietly, smiling thankfully up at the stars.
“R-really? I mean, I didn’t hear them say anything, and I didn’t translate anything–” Wukong doubted with confusion, his gaze alternating back and forth between Macaque and the sky. He wondered if the stars had given up on him and began taking more interest in Macaque instead. The idea frustrated him–to have something intimate and close be stolen at first interaction panged him.
“The sun is a star, too, Wukong.” Macaque threw himself onto the grass, relaxing into its embrace.
“The sun isn’t even out!” Wukong exclaimed, motioning towards the sky.
Macaque’s eyes fell on Wukong again and trailed down to their intertwined hands. “I see it,” his whisper had dropped to a mumble so Wukong hadn’t even heard the sounds.
Wukong turned fully this time, staring at Macaque’s face. His expression brightened when something caught his attention, and he leaned in instantly. Macaque flinched back, unsure of what to expect or what Wukong was even doing.
“The stars reflect in your eyes! That’s so pretty,” Wukong breathed out in amazement. His focus centered around Macaque’s eyes now; not the minimal distance between them, not the opposing temperatures of their skins meeting when Wukong clasped onto Macaque’s face, and not the perplexed expression growing on Macaque’s flushed face.
Wukong scrunched up his face as his thumb caressed up Macaque’s face, tracing the patchy flesh of Macaque’s scar. “Does it still hurt?” he whispered.
“No,” Macaque whispered back, no longer disturbed by the contact between them or unmentioned closeness. “I don’t really feel anything on that side of my face anymore.” Wukong only continued to stare, still gently brushing his thumb around Macaque’s face.
“The scar of a warrior.” Wukong began to move his hands from Macaque’s face, but Macaque drew them back in and guided them to his face again.
“Your hands feel nice,” he muttered. Macaque, being cold-blooded and naturally below temperature due to being a walking corpse, took comfort in the warmth of Wukong’s palms, even if his cracked skin pricked like thorns. He couldn’t tell if it was his overthinking habits, but he could have sworn that Wukong avoided accidentally hurting Macaque.
“I’m really sorry. I’ve taken so much from you,” Wukong couldn’t move his gaze from Macaque’s scarred face.
“We’ve taken a lot from each other,” Macaque corrected tenderly.
“Well, what can I give to make up for it?”
“We’ve got forever to figure that out.”
Wukong perked up, a wide grin spreading on his face. He laughed with disbelief, eyes searching Macaque’s face for any hints at a prank or trick. “You really want to try again?” His fingers fiddled around Macaque’s furry cheeks, stroking the strands of hair that fell in his face.
“Of course I do,” Macaque assured from behind the teeth of his bright smile. “This time, if we screw up, we’re not going to abandon each other.”
“Sounds great to me.” Wukong couldn’t hold back the excitement of it and wrapped his arms around Macaque entirely. To his surprise, Macaque’s own arms snaked around his torso and embraced him back. Wukong’s face brushed against the fabric of Macaque’s scarf as he melted in the comfort of Macaque’s grasp.
Wukong let silence fill the void in between their words. Doubt rippled in his chest the more he thought. “Do you think it will work this time?”
“We’ll make it work, Wukong.” Macaque’s arms tightened around Wukong, as if to reassure him of the statement and emphasize its validity. It worked.
Wukong relaxed his head. Sleepiness weighed down on his eyelids. “Hmm,” he agreed in response before shutting his eyes entirely.
Macaque glanced up at the sky again. The stars twinkled down at him. “Thank you,” he whispered. The stars flickered in response. He smiled contently before shutting his eyes, allowing the silence of the environment to surround them with enough tranquility for slumber.
The moon peeked from her clouds as the mystic monkeys fell into slumber. Her stars continued to dance and celebrate as they cheered at the sight of another mending of a relationship, an addition to their long list. The moon hid behind the clouds again and soothed her stars to sleep, and all was peaceful.