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Tang had to stop and take a deep breath before stepping into his and Pigsy's home.
His husband looked up, wearing an expression of defeat as he set aside the papers in his hand.
They spoke in hushed tones, before Tang finally walked up the stairs to Xiaotian's door. He knocked on the door, gently, but his and Pigsy's adopted son didn't answer.
Tang sighed and pushed the door open.
Xiaotian was sat on the floor against his bed, hunched over one of his sketchbooks and digging the pencils in so hard that the tips were shattering against the page, leading to angry growl-like noises before the pages were promptly ripped from the book.
Fresh bandages were across his boy's knees and face in bright colors and smiling faces, a sharp contrast to the fury across Xiaotian's small face.
"Pigsy said you got into another fight at school again," Tang said.
Another page ripped angrily from the sketchbook before Xiaotian let out an angry yell and threw the book entirely. Tang winced as it hit the wall, but didn't leave. Instead, he sat down next to his little boy.
"Want to talk about it?"
"What's to talk about?" Xiaotian growled.
"Why you smashed a boy's face into the side of playground equipment would be a good start."
"He had it coming!"
Tang winced but didn't say anything, waiting for his son to continue. He usually would, if allowed the time and patience to.
Sure enough, Xiaotian sat back against his bed next to Tang and continued after almost a minute of silence.
"He said my art looked stupid. And it does. But I still got mad."
"So you hurt him?"
Xiaotian grumbled.
"Xiaotian, we've talked about using violence instead of words."
"I'm just... I feel so angry all the time."
"And does using violence make you feel better?"
Xiaotian slumped over against Tang, burrowing into his side and hiding his face in his robes.
"No," Xiaotian said.
It was partly muffled by cloth.
Tang sighed and pulled Xiaotian closer, giving his son a reassuring side hug.
"Are you mad?"
"No," Tang said. "I mean, I'm not exactly thrilled, but I'm not mad."
"Is Dadsy mad?"
Tang did his best not to smile at the nickname. It wouldn't do to be smiling when he's supposed to be parenting.
"Well, I think he's more disappointed than mad. You keep getting in all this trouble and hurting other kids at school, it's not good, Xiaotian."
Xiaotian grumbled again into Tang's robe.
Tang just wanted to scoop him up and hug him. But it would barely be a temporary fix to this reoccurring problem.
"You know... I know of someone else who had the same problems. Who had a problem with turning to violence instead of words."
Xiaotian pulled his face away from where he'd hidden it away against Tang and looked up at him, little eyes wide.
"You do? What happened to them?"
Tang smiled and went to stand, giving Xiaotian enough time to not fall over as he did so.
"Why don't I show you?"
Tucking his hands into his sleeves, he moved to the door and left into the hall. He didn't have to look back to know Xiaotian would follow.
Small feet followed after him, following him to the living room and over to the largest bookshelf.
Tang heard a tiny gasp from behind him as he reached up to the top shelf of the bookshelf and he couldn't help but grin. He grabbed the first volume carefully, bringing it down with great reverence, to make it as special as he could for the most special person in his life.
"The forbidden shelf," Xiaotian said, his voice hushed.
Those big eyes darted up to his own, almost accusing, but the young boy kept his voice hushed, as if Pigsy would hear and come running.
Tang resisted the urge to glance up and give Pigsy, lurking nervously in the doorway watching them, an amused grin. He probably would have rolled his eyes at Tang, if Tang had.
"This is a story called Journey to the West," Tang said. "About a monkie, born from a stone, with no kin to call his own, who found a family all his own."
"Like ours?"
"Well, not exactly," Tang said. "But that doesn't make it any less special."
"Dadsy says the Forbidden Shelf is too violent."
"Oh, I'm sure he won't mind this one."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure."
Tang sat down in his armchair and Xiaotian climbed up to wiggle in beside him as he opened the first volume to Journey to the West and started thumbing through pages.
"This story starts on a mountain called Flower Fruit Mountain," Tang said.
"Was it pretty?"
"The prettiest," Tang said. "Absolutely magnificent."
He skipped through more pages before stopping at Sun Wukong's birth. Adjusting his glasses and putting on the voice he always read to Xiaotian with, he began to read.
"There was on top of that very mountain an immortal stone..."