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It had been a long time since Wukong and Macaque started to reconcile. The process, similar to all varying stages of healing, wasn’t linear. They aren’t quite friends, they aren’t yet lovers, and they’re finally past the point of enemies. They’re just them. And they’re allowed to still be working on things.
But February was quick approaching. The break from January–that one long month that makes you feel like ripping out all of your organs because DAMN IT, it stretches on further than space–you know, that one?
Or, you may think of February as that month where flashing pinks and reds are flung in your face, waving hearts bubbling around you. To which you either hold your hand out, letting the warmth fizzle into your blood; or you crush them molecule by molecule because if you can’t be happy, no one can .
February was approximately two days away!
And Wukong, well, he forgot about Valentine’s.
But fate never lets someone forget for too long. The advertisements and corny teenage walking PDA sticks make sure to ram the Holiday into your brain cage soon enough!
Currently, Wukong sits with Mk and Mei in the cramped but cozy living room. Seeing as Wukong, Macaque, and the kid still share a dorm, anytime Mk has a friend over, it may as well be destiny for Macaque or Wukong to crash the party.
But he doesn’t seem to mind.
And Wukong’s too busy munching on his peach chips to do much but look a little gross chewing with his mouth full.
He loves to pester Redson, but Mei?
Yeah, no. It’s not that he’s scared! Even when green fire seems to dance ominously in slitted eyes. . .No, he just knows the distance between them is a landmine, glass for bombs. He may wind up slicing his own foot if he gets too close; or, Mei will kick up some shards to pierce through his chest. She is still not very fond of him.
It’s understandable, Wukong did put her best friend through a lot. He gets it, if she doesn’t think about his side of the story.
“Do you think you’re gonna ask Redboy out?” Mei asks, thumb pawing at her square screen. Wukong lets his eyes stray from the odd TV show.
This is much more snack worthy.
Mk sputters, then shakes his head, as if to shake away the observatory of the situation. “I– what? No!”
“Why do you ask?” he adds after a moment, glancing helplessly at his mentor, who just shrugs. By now anyone and everyone knows of Mk’s pining. It’s like watching a cat chase a laser. They’re oblivious of the eyes on them, too busy leaping for that all-consuming red.
“It’s almost Valentine’s, that’s why.” Mei says casually, but Wukong notices the smirk behind her phone.
“Wha…” Said phone is flung into Mk’s face. “See? Everyone’s already out shopping! Don’t tell me you’re gonna waste a perfect opportunity to ask them out?” Mk’s jaw drops, his pupils flicking as he takes in the shopping spree of some random influencer.
“I– I can’t just ask him out!” Mk finally argues, turning so violently from the phone, as if the preppy colors blinded him. “He doesn’t even like me like that.”
“Oh c’mon, bud,” Wukong pops a chip in his mouth, stretching leisurely. “Sure he does. He sticks around, doesn’t he?”
Mei nods eagerly. While Mk fixes him a stare drier than the Sahara desert. “Macaque sticks around. Are you gonna ask him out?”
Wukong does not choke on a chip. It just gets conveniently lodged inside his throat, making him cough to avoid choking. “Hey! Don’t turn this on me. We’re talking about your love life, not mine,”
“So you admit you love Maccy, aye?”
There is just a fire in Wukong’s mouth, he’s not blushing. “I– what?! No!” He pointedly glares at the Dragon Girl. “And– and even if I did, it doesn’t mean I’m going to ask him out. He hates Valentine’s, probably even more than he did before,”
Wukong never did find out why Macaque said Valentine’s wasn’t so bad after he gave him that chocolate bar, all those years ago. But knowing him, he hates it even more now that he’s depressed and a total grinch all-year long.
The mere prospect of handing Macaque another chocolate makes his stomach churn. And no! It’s not because butterflies sprout at the fantasy of Macaque possibly saying yes and giving him a romantic day in the safety net of it being a national holiday. That’s a false statement.
“Yes!” Mk exclaims, both heads swiveling towards him. “Redson would hate it, too. Even if he does like me–”
“Which he doesn’t,” Mk mutters into his fist. Mei and Wukong simultaneously roll their eyes.
“They’d probably say something like–” he rises smoothly from his seat. Then, he throws his head back, manic laughter shaking his body. “ Mortal, do not tell me you’ve given me a– a chocolate box?! Did you really think I– Redson, partook in such cheesy celebrations?”
Wow, he really needs to quit hanging out with Macaque. And Redson, for that matter. That impression touched Wukong’s very soul. If he were to close his eyes, he’d seamlessly envision Redson standing there, hair sparking as it always does.
“Bravo, bravo!” Calls a voice, bouncing off the walls, trapped under a layer of static. Mei’s laughing spell has come to an abrupt end, and Wukong’s fur bristles. He’ll never get used to how he sounds when in the shadow dimension.
An ebony furred monkey rises from Mk’s shadow, causing the boy to yelp and whirl around. Wukong still finds it a liiitle unfair how cool his specialized magic is.
“An excellent performance, if I do say so myself,”
Wait a minute. . .
“How long have you been eavesdropping?” Wukong asks, tone bored and annoyed, but the words flow too quickly. Macaque lazily slides his gaze over to the other, the corner of his lips twitching. He shrugs, flopping down next to Mei, who arguably does not tug herself away with a slitted stare. The daggers are showing again.
“Long enough,”
The hell’s that supposed to mean?
“So you know Mk’s doing an impression of Redson because he’s scared he’ll get lit on fire if he asks him out for Valentine’s?”
Macaque’s eyebrows raise. Then he half scoffs, half chuckles, “Really kid? You’re planning on asking him out–”
“No I am not! I’ve already told everyone that there is no way I’m asking him out!” Mk throws his arms up, waving them wildly. Now it’s time for Wukong to scoff. Though, relief flickers in his chest when he realizes Macaque wasn’t there for too long.
More arguing broke out after that, but Wukong groaned and left after about two more minutes. He didn’t want to listen to the Dragon Girl slam into his successor. It wasn’t even fun anymore now that his possible Valentine’s was watching everyone’s moves, probably waiting for a reason to butt in and make fun of Wukong.
He just knows one of those M’s would mention him asking out Macaque if he dared to join the bullying and attempted persuasion.
What he was not expecting, now in the kitchen, brewing a late day coffee, was to turn around and see Macaque leaning against the entry way’s wall. “So, Great Sage, any plans for Valentine’s?” He cocks an eyebrow.
God Fucking Damn It.
“Hmph, you wish.” Wukong really, really wishes, too. He walks over to the keurig, hitting start. The liquid, soon-to-be-heaven, pours into it. “What about you? ” Yes, a great way to turn the convo from him as he waits!
Macaque shrugs, averting his gaze which seemed to get a little dark around the edges. “Hah, funny.” His tone is just drenched in sarcasm. “You know how much I love bright Holiday’s,”
“So if someone asked you out, you’d hate it, huh?”
Macaque’s head snaps to him, making Wukong’s tail flick shortly. Way to be Captain Obvious, on Obviously boat, sailing towards The Nation of Biggest Giveaways. Sigh.
Macaque shrugs, leaning back further against the wall. His tail sways calmly, yet quicker than normal, but Wukong doesn’t see nor know. He’s rocking the two O’s. Obvious and Oblivious.
“I never said that. But I doubt anyone would ask me out,”
“I would,” dances just on the tip of Wukong’s, but he can’t sound that desperate. So he smirks in that vain way of his, and adds, “I mean, who’d wanna ask the most sarcastic and gloomy person out on a day of fun?”
Macaque scoffs, eyeing him as he slips on a hot mat and picks up the steaming cup of coffee. Then trailing after him as he goes to the fridge. He slips off, smoothly slinking over to the mug. Good thing he learned to be stealthy outside of his and other’s shadows.
“And who would wanna ask out Mr. Arrogance? Knowing you, you’d say something like “self love, is self love,” and walk away.”
Wukong’s skin prickles, but it full on bristles when he sees that son of a bitch drinking out of his coffee!
“ Hey! That was mine!”
Macaque sets it back on the counter, now that it’s halfway done. His tongue feels a pinch numb, but priorities. “You can still drink it,”
“And get cooties? Hah! Just take it,” Wukong places all of the ingredients back into the fridge and cabinets. Goodbye creamer, goodbye sprinkles, goodbye ice. Macaque likes his coffee scorching and plain. He must’ve burnt all his taste buds already.
“Oh, and for your knowledge,” Wukong pauses to spin on his heel. “If someone were to ask me out, I’d probably just say yes, not some shit like that, ” Dropping a hint, and rushing before it can be discovered.
But that doesn’t work well when the other remains sipping his lost coffee. A thoughtful expression passes over his face, while Wukong mentally smacks himself.
---------------------------
Wukong tried, he really did, to convince himself not to do something stupid. But as he tossed and turned that night, all he thought about was Macaque’s words. The other was only, what, a few steps down the hall?
And he was alone, like so many other years.
Maybe he didn’t quite deserve the right to ask him out. And Macaque would probably laugh in his face like an utter maniac, his own hair turning to fire just at the absurdity of this idiotic, cheesy monkey–mortal.
But, in the depths of his mind, he imagined Macaque’s face lighting up like that one Valentine’s all those years ago. Present in his hand, tail curling to a heart, even when he acted all nonchalant afterwards.
This time, though this time, he had to make it better. It can be a perfect excuse to spoil Macaque, and maybe try to repay his ever stretching debt of all the mistakes he made which impacted the other in any notion but decently bad. More like horrendous, cruel, heartless. . . That's enough of that.
So, with that, he sets out his already horrible idea. (And no, this determination totally wasn’t triggered because at the end of the day, Wukong heard Mk agree to ‘ask Redson out in his own, safe way’, and Wukong couldn’t be that cool older brother who got absolutely no hoes while his little bro was out there with the ladies. Like, hell no. BUT THAT’S NOT WHAT MADE HIM BACKTRACK!...)
February 1st,
Man oh man was the advertisements and popups just leaping from their chasms and yanking the ankles of any poor suspecting citizen. Their entire college was love-ified. It was. . . So cute! . .And haunting.
Wukong’s always enjoyed bright, eye-catching colors. They make the darkness of the world less likeable to creep up on you, and fun patterns like hearts and stripes are very appealing. But this year, they all seemed to latch onto him, whispering: “Ohhh Wukong! Sun Wukong! You have a ‘blown out of the charts/10’ man to impress, and you have nooo idea what to do! Or buy! Or if this will be the worst mistake of your life!--”
“--And oh boy, that’s a hard record to beat–” Wukong usually stops listening at that point. They were right, he knew that, yet he didn’t want to feel stressed and sweaty-palmed at the proposition to ask his crush out. He’s faced much worse, a little cheesy Holiday should be nothing!
He’s Wukong, the Monkey King, the Great Sage. Y’know, him? He who had a full fifteen days to figure it all out! Those hearts could go stick it.
February 5th,
Wukong paces back-forth, back-forth–you may notice the word ‘and’ is missing, but there’s no room for that! There’s no time to figure it all out, soforgetthe and,andsettleforthesecondbest…but no there has to be THE BEST for Macaque– it’s not really about the ‘and.’
He rubs his hands over his face, claws lightly tapping his flesh. He still has absolutely idea how to swoon Macaque in a way that’s sincere enough to shock the taunts out of him, but also not so embarrassing that he ends up laughing so hard his vocal cords split apart.
Wukong’s already cringing so hard his expression is going to get stuck in a permanent grimace at how corny and pinning he’s being.
“Uh, Monkey King?”
Wukong halts, like a deer and headlights he stands and stares. “Are you okaaay..?”
“Yes!”
No.
“I just, uh, can’t sleep?” It’s not a lie, he’s just leaving some info out. See? He’s getting better at being honest.
Mk’s lips pull to a frown, but not the kind where his eyes narrow to icy slits, freezing his blood. No, instead warmth shines through. “Do you wanna talk about it?” He knows by now how his mentor is usually kept awake by tortuous thoughts, or yanked from the comforting darkness by shandels in the forms of broken memories.
“No, no, I’m, uh… Thinking…” Wukong’s voice dips into a mumble, pausing to think. “How do you plan on asking Redson out?” he blurts out after a moment. He’s on a roll for being subtle. To be fair, it’s been a long day, the hours blurring together in dashes of work and clubs.
And those hearts, those damn hearts, they need to feel his fist of fury! They won’t stop watching his every move. Each step reminds them to say he isn’t walking towards victory, he’s walking towards his doom if he can’t get himself together and plan something.
Mk’s eyebrows rise, and he glances to the side, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, well, y’know I’m not really gonna ask him out… Just to hang out, or somethin’,” He taps his pointed fingers together.
A
sk someone to hang out, not, go out? . . Hm, that may actually be smart. But Wukong actually wants to go out with him. . .
“Wait– why do you care?”
“Well, I just wanna… know?” Wukong offers, a grin stretching his face. At his successor’s raised brow and obvious distrust, he continues on, shuffling slightly, “And– and need a good distraction. For, uh, from my thoughts. Yeah.. from my thoughts!” He throws shot guns at Mk, and the kid relents with a sigh.
“Okay, fine. I… I’m just gonna buy Redson a gift. That she’d like specifically. Nothing… Valentines-ey. So, Ima ask to hangout, give ‘er the gift, and uh, hope for the best…” He begins to sway a little from where he stands in the hallway, right in Wukong’s doorway.
Fidgeting his hands together. It’d be fun and innocent if Wukong wasn’t turned into a safari page, trying to analyze this data quicker than English teachers analyze the symbolic meaning behind why brushing teeth changes the flow of the moon.
“So you’re not asking her out?”
“No, no, I am! I’m just… Gonna act all friendly, and if he declines, then I can play it off as two friends hanging out. Or somethin’...” Mk scratches his head. While his mentor is slammed with an idea. Wow, his ‘lil bro is BRILLIANT.
“Yes! Perfect!” Wukong pumps his fist in the air, starting to pace, more excitedly. “What gift are you planning on getting?”
Mk tilts his head, but his next words contradict the innocence he displayed. “Are you planning on asking Macaque out? Is that why you–”
Wukong is right in front of him before he can continue, finger pressed against his cheek, squashing it. “ Shh! He’ll hear you,” he hisses between clenched teeth, looking at all the shadows. Even going as far as to activate his gold vision. Perfect, Macaque isn’t here. . .
Mk sputters, batting his mentor’s hands away. “He isn’t even here! I know he has six ears, but he can’t hear everything, ” He still spares a glance over his shoulder.
“It’s not that, bud. He always shows up once he’s mentioned… It’s like he senses it, or somethin’,” Wukong shrugs, only to twap his tail angrily against the ground when Mk smirks and leans closer. “So this is about M– him, huh?” He wriggles his eyebrows, and oh yeah, he definitely got that from Mei. The two trade off emotes like gamblers trade their spent wallets.
“No! I just– I don’t want him to show up and think it is,” Wukong lies, which, bravo to him, he thought of something real quick! Though he is blushing, and Mk’s keen sight hones in on that.
“Mhm, mhm, soooo how’re you gonna do i–”
BOOM!
Angry screeches sound behind the magically closed door. Wukong puts his ear to the wooden surface, “Hm? What was that? Sorrryyy, I’m heading off to bed!” And that he is. A new plan in mind, he dives under the covers, grabbing a pillow to hug close to his chest.
He never does see the purple eyes which find him in the middle of the night, nor how the outline smiles and hands him that same pillow, somehow having been kicked to the ground.
February 10th,
It is now five days until Valentine’s, and although Wukong’s inwardly practiced his nonchalant invite as friends, he still doesn’t know how to get to the whole romance part.
He trudged through the halls, watching surprise pop outs leap from kid’s lockers, while the mastermind stood and grinned. The cards were sweet, really, they were. Until Wukong caught the eyes of the pretty cursive writing and it reminded: “Remember, you can’t write like that. And Macaque’s always preferred talking, not writing, for things like these. So you can’t use me!”
Then the hearts, those damn hearts, winked and said: “And we’re still here to let you know you’re going to never enjoy us if you slip up and make things so awkward you move schools, or so un-efforted, Macaque scoffs and walks away.”
Yes, Wukong is very much aware, but what can he do? No gifts scream Macaque would love ! No actions seem good enough, and he’s probably overthinking again, isn’t he?
It is five days until Valentine’s day; and Wukong snapped.
“Mk, I need your help,”
“With wha–”
“After five, Macaque is gone for an hour. We talk, in my room, with all the lights on, then, okay?”
And he dashed away before an answer could be formulated. So he waited in his room, nibbling on a peach to avoid stress-pacing, because if Mk dared to show up, that’d be very embarrassing to happen two times in one week.
While he sat, he crossed two fingers and prayed to Buddha that Mk would get busy with Mei, or Redson, and never show. Then the other crossed finger yearned for the kid to just show up, make him swallow his pride, and ask for help because it’s Five Days Away.
“Yo! Monkey King!” And then his hopes were over, and the discussion had started.
Mk sits across him now, smiling so sharp his one fang must be carving his other teeth anew. “So you do plan on asking him out! I knew it! You were eyeing those hearts everytime we walked in the hall,”
“They were eyeing me !” Wukong jabs his claw into his own chest, ignoring the minimal pinch. It doesn’t hurt as bad as those alluring, painstakingly bright hearts. And he realizes he must look insane with how Mk scoots away.
“Look, I need your help. I don’t know what to get Macaque! I keep trying to think, but– but nothing’s worthy!”
Mk places a hand on his chin. “You know the guy the best, though,”
“ Exactly . That means I know every possible outcome that could come from my ‘gifts’,”
Mk’s face scrunches up some, before he sighs and flops on his back. “Okay, let’s think then…”
Wukong bites back the urge to scream that he hasn’t stopped thinking since January, and lets his successor do his thing. While he himself strains for any last ditch effort.
They end up bouncing ideas back and forth, similar to those two try-hard guys left on opposing ends of a dodgeball tournament, with all their teammates outed. It’s just them, back and forth, again and again, over and over, the ball becomes flat and useless.
Wukong throws his hands over his face, groaning loudly. His successor isn’t much better, he’s long since started rampaging through pinterest ideas, savagely blocking pins, and scrolling so fast his thumb starts to bruise.
“It’s useless, kid, just give up.” He smacks his head harshly against a pillow. How can someone smack a pillow harshly, you ask? You go and try to ask your long-admired crush out, who’s also extremely picky and not even a friend exactly, just some shattered remedy of past mistakes, present attempts, and hopeful futures.
That’s when you can thud against a freshly fluffed pillow.
“Well… we do have one last option,” Mk offers, causing Wukong to lift himself up some. “But you’re not gonna like it…”
“Just spit it out, I’m desperate,” Wow, Macaque would’ve loved to hear those words uttered so freely. But the wind can only drag them so far.
“Fine, but I warned you,” Mk lifts his hands in mock surrender, then straightens his posture. “We call Mei.”
Mei. . .As in that Mei? That Mei?!
“No way, bud! She doesn’t even like me, and I don’t need another earful of taunts on my romance life.”
“You’re not gonna have a romance life if you can’t figure out how to ask the dang guy out!” Mk so much so shouts, ready to explode. Quite literally. If someone held a match to him, he’d turn himself and them to charcoal.
Worst of all, he has a point.
“Look, I know Mei and you have your differences–” That’s a kind way to put one-sided distaste. “--But she already knows you’re hopelessly in love with Ma– the guy. She’s really good at these types of things, too, even if she doesn’t like romance all too much. She can totally set you guys up, and she’s team Shadow Peach so her… grudges against you won’t get in the way,”
Wukong’s not even gonna ask what Shadow Peach is. Ever since he stumbled upon that notebook, he doesn’t want to ask questions. So he grumbles, dragging his hands across his face and groaning dramatically.
“Fiiiine, go call your friend or whatever and we’ll see if she can help…”
February 15th, THE DAY.
Operation Hope for the Best is in action! Mk insisted he get a better name, but in all honesty, this is what he’s feeling.
As he hunts after Macaque, stealthily throwing himself against walls and tripping about three classmates, his palms grow sweaty and his throat dry. It’s insane what Mei and Mk thought up together. Mei gave all the practical stuff, while Mk thought up the romance. Neither let Wukong speak, and in the end, well, he’d be a coward if he didn’t go along. Plus. . .It was solid enough to not make him bury himself in his pre-dug grave if it failed.
Soon enough, Wukong came to a good crossing ground, where it’d look like he subsequently ran into the dude. Not stalked him like a wolf.
He just didn’t intend to actually run into him.
“Uhg–”
“Oof–”
A growl claws its way up Macaque’s throat, but dies down when he notices it’s just a familiar amber monkey. “Woah– sorry ‘bout that, didn’t see you there. Glad I ran into you though!” Please let his acting skills be honed in from that one day of theatre he took in highschool.
“What, finally looking to hangout–?” Macaque’s voice is drenched in sarcasm, but Wukong eagerly nods. “Yeah, actually! I feel kinda bad for being so busy the last few weeks. I figured we could catch up, uh, only if you’d wanna–”
They match each other step-for-step, but Macaque slows his pace, leaving Wukong to throw a glance back. “On Valentine’s?” He cocks a bushy brow. Wukong twirls a strand of his hair almost instantly. “Yeah! I mean, it’s the only day we’re both free since we obviously don’t have any dates, unless someone asked you out or something– wait did someone?”
Macaque’s chuckle breaks him from his rambling and makes his cheeks burn. He just wishes his heart would’ve fluttered, not dropped in his stomach. He’s already messing up.
“Of course no one asked me. I’m kinda surprised you’re free. I figured you’d go to some fancy Valentine’s galla or something,”
Wukong snorts, the absurdity of that chasing his embarrassment away. “Nah, those days are over. I’d prefer to just spend it with you,”
Both ignore the heat on their cheeks, Macaque going so far to tug his scarf up. A smirk glistens in his surprisingly round eyes. “Alright, then. After you, Your Majesty,” He jokingly bows, and Wukong grabs his hand before he can regret it. “Here! I have the perfect place to go,”
He doesn’t ask Macaque if he has any classes left. And Macaque never butts in to say he does have one more class.
Soon, they arrive at their old hangout spot. It was used once or twice, mainly to escape the school whenever it got too overstimulating for Macaque. One of those days happened to be Valentine’s. The day where Wukong gave him that silly chocolate bar.
It’s a singular apple tree, atop a round hill. Although the apples are dotted in black, and the branches are starved, special pink leaves still manage to hold on, swaying gently in the Winter wind. Wukong’s glad he threw on some socks for the occasion, and an extra hoodie beneath his jacket.
“Wow. I haven’t been here for a while…” Macaque mumbles, mainly to himself, but Wukong’s heart still picks up. Taking his words and running with it. What if this brought up bad memories? Happy times painted somber from the blood between them?
No, he had to think positive. If Macaque hated it, he’d just jump in that hole he dug yesterday and let Mei shovel him away.
“Close your eyes,” Wukong says, his voice up a pitch, awaiting nerves swarming his vocal cords. He throws a hand in front of the others’ one all-seeing eye, and the scarred one as to not be rude, despite his warning.
“Wha–”
“It’s a surprise!” He’s definitely feeling giddy now. They reach the pinnacle of the hill, so Wukong knows there’s no turning back. He glances at the tree trunk, all that’s bundled up in there, and inhales deeply.
“Your eyes shut?”
“One of them.”
“Which one?”
“You’ll have to see,” Macaque grins, his fangs poking out. Wukong scoffs, “ Both of them. Shut both of them,”
M
acaque rolls said eyes, but it can’t roll away the fondness he feels poking through. And closes them, expecting the other to throw some snow at him, or something. Instead he hears shuffling and a very, very fast heartbeat.
“O-okay, you can open them now,”
That stutter – it’s times like these where Macaque doubts his ears. His six, sensitive ears. Slowly, he opens his eyes, almost feeling nervous.
His mouth falls agape, the cool air having to have snuck through his fur, past his skin, and right into his bones, tying everything in a taut knot. He doesn’t think he can move if he wanted to.
Wukong stands at the trunk, a bouquet of delicate Forget-Me-Nots’ flowers in his hands. The petals reflect the setting sun, texture that of silk. On the trunk, instead of chipping bark and rotting moss, taped chocolate bars are strung in a heart shape. Which finally looks at Wukong with pride.
And it’s not just any chocolate bars, Macaque recognizes these, it’s that specific dark chocolate brand he loves. The first ever gift he was given without any sort of trade-off or prompt. . .
A grin wobbles on Wukong’s face as he gives a casual bow, outstretching the flowers towards Macaque. “Happy Valentines, Lui’er,”
Macaque’s heart takes a skydive out of his body, only to slam right back in and cause his hand to make an odd jerk movement, grasping the bouquet. His fingers brush against Wukong’s, a strike of lightning following the fleeting touch.
Wukong bounces on his feet, hands bundled together, bunched tighter than the majority of Macaque’s muscles. He averts his gaze, landing anywhere but the flushed Macaque.
“I-It’s cheesy, heh, I know. You can, uh, say no. To– to being my Valentine, I just, well, I wanted to–”
Macaque interrupts with a chaste peck to his lips. Wukong’s eyes widen, while Macaque’s close, savoring the sweet taste. Hm, he must’ve wore cherry chapstick. His lips are bumpy in some patches, scuffed from the weather, so it’s good he’s taking care of himself with that helpful chapstick.
When he pulls away and opens his eyes, they’re glowing. Not in the way where the setting sun hits his back. Not in the way the rising moon douses him in those lovely silver. He shines, and it’s all on his own.
Wukong’s lips are slightly parted, his once twitchy body gone still, his cheeks so flushed he must be wanting to shove his face in a lingering pile of snow to cool off.
There are a million different words on Macaque’s tongue. Did you spend all that time away planning this? Did you know that chocolate brand wasn’t my favorite until you gave it to me? Thank you, thank you Wukong. It’s very cheesy, but way more sweet than anything.
Yet all he does is step towards the tree, sticking his hand in a shadow. He soon yanks out a lovely white and gold, smooth box.
“Geez, now I feel lame for getting you this. After what you did, who am I to compare?” Still, he offers it, ears twitching nervously.
Wukong blinks, once, twice, then gasps and grabs the box. He cradles it close to his chest. “You didn’t have to get me anything!”
The shadow wielder just shrugs, a smile playing at his lips. “Go on, open it.” And so he does.
Inside are carefully placed ovals, crusted milk chocolate with white chocolate swirls covering the expense. He tilts his head, sniffs, then gasps again. This time much louder.
“No way! Chocolate covered peaches?! I didn’t even know they made these things!” Wukong can’t help it, okay? He’s attracted to sweets and peaches already, so those combined are a full force magnet.
His fangs are already sunk into one.
Macaque shrugs again, his smile becoming more solidified as he watches his counterpart hum happily. “I may have made a special request,” He turns, not noticing how Wukong focuses on him with a look softer than cotton.
He slips one of the chocolate bars from the trees, carefully unwrapping it. “Happy Valentine’s, Wukong.”
And neither notice the dots of gold and green far off in the bushes.