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It started after the fight with Azure, the chill of the air finally settling upon his skin. He stands victorious among the shimmering stars and watches with awe as reality stitches itself back together again. The sight takes his breath away… literally. He falters, collapsing in the arms of Sun Wukong as he tries to catch his breath. He can just barely feel the warmth of a shattered sun on his back, its honey-golden rays cast shadows of him and Wukong onto the ground.
It’s far too peaceful.
He curses his aching legs once he finally stands, shaking as he takes a step forward and almost falling directly on his face. Wukong almost immediately rushes up to him, holding his arm to steady him - his tail thrashing behind him in concern. The Monkey King is still on edge, he can tell. He wants to will his tail over to Wukong's, tightly intertwining them together, a silent promise to him that he's safe and alright.
It’s only then does he make the sudden realization that his tail is no longer swishing back and forth behind him. He feels the wind in his hair, the triumph (or perhaps it’s more of a bittersweetness, this time) of a battle won, and the absence of his tail. It’s an overwhelming sensation and he can’t quite pinpoint why. He sucks in a breath and continues walking, not quite settling on a smile and quick thumbs up instead.
He does it anyway. He’s lying.
That night, when the moon is high in the sky, MK is woken up by the creak of his bed and the rustling of covers. He opens his eyes, keeping them half-lidded enough so it would at least appear as if he were asleep. Mei sits at the edge of his bed, rubbing her head. It’s not uncommon for the two to have sleepovers, but after a rough battle such as the one they’d just gone through, they’d usually prefer to fall asleep right next to each other. Just in case.
She groans quietly as she stands, stretching her arms up in the sky, and looks back at MK. She watches for a second, presumably making sure he doesn’t wake up. MK can read her face through his own still somewhat groggy state; she’s sad and scared, a mixture of emotions he very rarely sees in Mei. He watches as she makes her way to his apartment door, quietly creaking it open and slowly shutting it behind her. He waits for a few minutes before following her to the noodle shop below his apartment. He settles in the shadows, watching as she sits in one of the creaky wooden booths and sighs into her hands.
He almost joins her, silently slipping into the booth across from her and holding her hands tightly. I’m here, he’d say, you’re okay. He’d sit with her in silence until she’d suggest going back to bed or telling him what was wrong - whatever came first. Whatever she needed in the moment.
But then Tang appears from the kitchen, a tray of Sandy’s tea in his hands. He sets it on the old table with a clank and sits down across from her.
“I know this is all… hard,” He says as he pours a cup for her and then himself. Mei nods her head wordlessly in response, lifting the teacup and sipping.
He speaks slowly, using his pointer and middle fingers to push the round glasses further up the bridge of his nose, “You know, I’m here if you ever need to talk about all this with someone who's not a mystic monkey… Pigsy and Sandy are too, I’m sure.”
She hums in response, smiling up at Tang as she does so, a silent thank you. Tang nods his head in response, the ghost of a smile on his face. The two sip their tea in silence.
MK goes back to bed. His heart hurts.
Before he falls back into a dreamless sleep, a voice in his mind chides him. You’ll never have that kind of connection with them, will you? it says - confident in its statement. It sounds like Him. Pigsy, Sandy, Mei... Monkey King..?
He should just ignore it. He doesn't.
It took less convincing than MK thought it would to get both Wukong AND Macaque to train him. He knew the two had been at least open to the idea of working together more. It was a comforting thought.
The deal with training was simple - they’d both work on training with MK so long as he didn’t overwork himself.
Lucky for MK, he was pretty good at making it at least seem like he was fine and working a very normal amount.
He arrives on Flower Fruit Mountain with a thump as he twirls his staff and puts it safely back into his ear. The air is still and fresh. The scent of peaches hangs thickly in it, a comforting scent to MK. It smells like home.
He takes his time making his way to the clearing he and the Monkey King usually use to train. He watches the monkeys of Flower Fruit Mountain as they play - rustling the leaves of the trees as they swing from branch to branch. One swings ahead, beckoning his friends to follow with a slew of sharp chitters. They comply, of course, chirping back and racing forward to follow. He frowns at the sight, looking away from the little monkeys for a second. There’s an ache in his chest, splintering his soul into tiny pieces like a shattered pane of glass. The pain almost makes him place a hand on his chest and grip his shirt with a white-knuckled fist.
Though, his hands stay at his sides, fingers picking off the chipped nail polish Mei had so carefully applied the other night.
You’ll never get to have that, the voice in his head reminds him, You are the in-between. The odd one out. The flaw. He nods in agreement to what is seemingly silence. He’ll never have that.
He goes home early that day, muscles devoid of the usual ache from training.
The voice snickers.