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There were days MK grips the knife too hard. His knuckles white as he chops vegetables at the diner, each time, tinier pieces than the last no matter the juices that stain the board in splatters. And he throws them in with no care, brisk, rough, the delicacy of cooking out the window in a way that would make his father scowl if he was really looking and not dealing with the rush at the moment. MK attempts to twirl the knife around his fingers, slumping over the table in a way that brought the knife closer to his face than would be considered unsafe for kitchen etiquette, watching it then clank to the ground in a way that rings in his ears. He hears a shout directed at the back where he was told to clean it up and get back to work. MK would love to go back to work. Real work. He picks up the knife and brings it to the washer scrubbing in a way that makes his hands numb under the hot water.
It's a no training week but it's been more like a month. MK is not even sure who he's mad at anymore: Wukong, or himself. They haven't trained since the pillar incident and it's not like MK could blame him but he does. He was sure it was the right decision. Some days he still thinks it is. He's not a child for the decisions he makes to protect everybody. Macaque got to throw himself into the pagoda. Wukong left the city for “vacation”, but somehow MK was the one coddled into lockdown. I should be out there MK thinks trying to let the sound of the hot water drown his thoughts and the heat burn his hands. I should be out there proving myself. That I can do this, that I really can save everyone. How can there be any rest on a day like this.
“Woah hold up- “
MK snaps out of his thoughts as Pigsy turns off the hot water. MK stares at his hands, the back of them red, skin peeling away at the edges. “That's too hot now,” Pigsy mumbles quietly, grabbing the kid's arm to wrap his knuckles in the cool washcloth that was originally around his shoulder. Something about the gentleness makes MK sick. There's gentle pats on his hands, his hands, the ones built for combat, for claws, for blood, for chaos, destruction. Time froze in his throat, as if an invisible hand had him by the neck against the wall, scrambling for air. MK leans back, away from the touch, away from the delicate broken feeling, grabbing with his free hand the end of a random towel, directing it at Pigsy once hurting him with it like a whip.
“Kid what the f-”
“Why can't you all just leave me alone!” he shouts and there's not a part of him that means it. He doesn't even notice that he subconsciously reached behind his ear and pulled out his weapon till he looks up again from his hands. Mk feels fright take his body staring at Pigsy's face right there in the kitchen. His father looks frightened, sure, with his hands up in no threat, but Mk sees the real feeling behind them- concern. It's the same eyes that asked him what wasn't he telling him before he planned to jump into the pillar, the same eyes that served him a bowl of red soup when he couldn't sleep and the same eyes when he told him that he knew jumping to his death wasn't the right thing to do. The sickness in Mk's body reaches back to his hands, wobbly, uncontrolled, and he breathes like a cornered animal trapped in a cage. The staff disappears in his grasp and his father is still there with his hands up. The fighting stance Mk is in weighs him to the ground for several moments, in a way that feels right only if you're so stiff it hurts to move in any other direction. Mk can't bear the look on his father's face as if he was the victim, not the attacker, not the monster inside him begging to be let out and hurt everyone in his way for one fleeting moment of stability. And so Mk runs from the restaurant, his father calling after him in a way he doesn't want to listen to.
MK ends up at the mountain rubbing his blistered hands. His heart throbs in his chest in his throat, his hands curled into fists. I seriously can't survive not having training Mk talks to himself angrily. He didn't used to be like this. He swears on it. He skips going to the training clearing and chooses his staff’s next victim, a nearby tree. His heart beats louder on rhythm with every hit, practicing side swings, twirl front stabs each of them layering a dent in the wood before mk hears a crack. Mk moves on instinct with the noise, side stepping out of the way, watching the tree collapse with a thud. The birds squawk loudly at the fall, the flock now flying into the air. Despite the loudness around him, and the fact that Mk's mind is empty with rage only now is it finally quiet.
He swallows down the lump in his throat looking at the fallen tree in front of him. Mk bends down, a tremor in his hands reaching for the stump. He sits down on the log trying to stop his body from trembling just like the leaves he just toppled over. I just. Gotta calm down. Just a little. Just meditate like Sandy says. It's impossible. It really is. He just toppled a tree but he craves for a real fight, an opponent that will fight back with no mercy. Someone to guide his big stick into and finally defeat the bad guy and just go home. But there's no monster of the week as there is apocalypse of the year and his mouth is dry from panting heavy breaths. He grasps his hands together, feeling them now coated in fur rather than ragged human skin. He picks at his knuckles where the blisters used to be like if he took the fur off they'd still be there under the coat. Frustration shakes him, his body glitching in and out of form and he hisses in pain. At some point in between phasing, he feels a stir from his shadow.
A growl forms in his throat waiting for a remark. The kid notices that Macaque's arrival was wordless this time, his footsteps light stepping over the fallen tree. “This is the orchard you know,” Macaque mumbles. MK only grunts in response, trying to force himself still, eyes still closed from his previous attempt of “meditation”. He's failing at that miserably. Mk feels a presence sit down next to him on the log, slightly warm but not quite. “What are you thinking about kid?" Macaque asks him delicately and Mk is all for breaking any fragility.
“I'm trying not to think.” he snaps. Another hiss of pain as his eyes squeeze shut. “Isn't that what meditation is about” he says, heat rising in his body and his stomach lurching from anxiety. Mk hears a small shuffle from Macaque. “No not at all,” Macaques voice here is barely a whisper and Mk pushes down whatever emotions rise in his throat at the tone. A tail wraps around his waist silently and Mk gasps for air at the touch.
“Meditation isn't about not thinking. It's about giving yourself space to be.” it's too warm, it's too kind, too gentle and Mk pushes away.
“Well either way it doesn't work” Mk growls. “I sit, I get, into this dumb little pose, I close my eyes and try to let the thoughts flow through me, “ gesturing to himself with a wiggle of his body. “and it doesn't work.” he spits out and Macaque just responds with a sigh. “There isn't a right way to meditate mk. You don't even have to be sitting like this to do it.” This time mk opens his eyes and looks up at Macaque, his focus now away from his hands. Mk wants to say something, anything, to put more space between them but the words die in his throat and Macaque notices. There's yet another squeeze on his waist.
Macaque pushes himself off of the log but his tail doesn't leave Mk's back for even a moment. “Just follow,” he commands and Mk does though half guided by the tail wrapping around his waist. Mk's heart pounds and something in his monkey brain is telling him to chirp but the human part of him bites his tongue. They barely walk in a direction for more than a minute before the floor drops under them with a yelp from the boy.
“Hey!” He turns around after landing from the shadow portal on his ass. “Can't you warn a guy next time?” Macaque shrugs, already walking away from him in the dark. “ I just wanted to see if you could walk.” he deadpans. Mk growls at him again roughly realizing slowly where he was now and frowns. The room held a different air than it did in the past but it was still shrouded in darkness. “I thought you got rid of the dojo?” He asks, turning his head to a small light source which was Macaque digging in a fridge somewhere in the back. “I did.” Macaque says, and the room fills with the small sound of the clasp of the fridge closing. Macaque moves to the counter. “It's just a place for when I need a moment from being on the mountain.” Macaque turns his head. “Or when small little monkey demons are caught beating up my orchard. Mk pouts at that. “I'm not little.” “Sure and I'm not half dead.” Macaque retorts immediately. Mk looks off into the dark, suddenly finding the floor very interesting.
A couple noises from Macaque’s kitchen remind Mk of the restaurant causing his heart to beat up faster again. The clink of the plates, the sound of a knife on the counter, the smell of…. juice? Before he can delve into those thoughts however, Macaque sits down next to him on the floor holding a plate of fruit. “I didn't have any apples like the ones you like but I have some apricots so that'll do.” He says picking up a piece for himself. “I already cut out the pit.” He holds the plate out to Mk for them to share. Mk takes a slice from the plate and pops it in his mouth. It's cold and fresh.
Mk’s tail swishes against the dust filled floor as they sit in silence with the apricots. When they're both done, Macaque puts the plate to his other side and puts a hand on Mk's chest. “Lie back,” he says gently pushing back. “We're meditating.” Mk raises a brow reluctantly plastering on a nervous smile. “I- uh- thought you shouldn't lie down after you eat?” His voice wobbles and with that Macaque flicks his forehead, hard. “That's swimming Mk. Lie down.” The kid frowns, the way out of meditating closing in front of him. He lets Macaque’s gentle hands guide him down to the floor.
There's another shuffle sound and a warm presence by his shoulder as macaque lies down on the floor next to him with his hands folded in his lap. “Just focus on the floor for a minute.” He tells him. “And I don't mean actually the floor, just the feeling of the floor okay?” Mk watches as Macaque closes his eyes. He grunts. “This is stupid.” there has to be buttons to push, mk wonders which will be right one to get Macaque to snap at him like he wants. “Maybe,” Macaque replies to him, stopping to scratch his nose for a second. “But it works so you're doing it.” Mk grumbles putting the palms of his hands on the floor to feel it better. He's not getting out of this. He was trapped in a meditation corner by Macaque while lying down, wasting time in a place actually meant to hone his skills. He presses his hands onto the ground with a push and stops, realizing the feel of the floor like his co-mentor says. He blinks. “It's cold.”
“Yeah.”
Macaque replies back to him and continues. “Now focus on the way your body feels on the ground. Starting with whatever monkey limb you feel first.” He pauses. “You can start with the limbs you share to make it easier.” it's a whisper and something about that has the kid start to tear up. Right. He's still in his monkey form. He would have changed back to his human form if he knew how by now. He's a liar, who betrays himself, his form. How dare he call himself a hero when he craves violence like a fire and craves guilt like water made to put it out. He's disgusted by the monster he's become.
“Don't stop the meditation just because you had a bad thought, MK don't quit.” Mk jumps at the beginning of the sentence, forcing himself to settle back to the floor to get his heart rate down. I swear does macaque have secret mind powers I don't know about, he thinks but if the shadow monkey did nothing showed it considering how he was still on the ground with his eyes closed. “Just focus on the feeling not the thoughts . They're supposed to pass through your mind not be walls.” uh huh yeah totally, not be walls. Mk tried again putting his focus back to the floor. There was so much he noticed in the silence the words spilled out his throat. “My limbs feel heavy.”
“Oh yeah which ones?” He thinks for a minute slowly feeling himself unclench. “My back.” He replies to macaque. “My core. My arms.” There's a silence from him that mk feels is being filled with a nod. “And what feels right?” more questions, this guy always has more questions, not answers. The kid freezes, noticing the rest of the feelings in his body rising like heat again. And his fists clench at the warmth. “Right isn't the right word-” “then tell yourself which one it is. “ Mk gulps, gritting his teeth. Questions and more questions and Macaque makes this shit sound so easy. “My stomach's uncomfortable. And my head doesn't feel right. And-” Mk stops again. Macaque told him to focus on the limbs he shared and the response on the tip of his tongue feels like one to be scolded for. “My tail.” He blurts out, feeling that part of him heavy against the floor. It's too warm, and this floor is too cold- “I don't like the way I don't know where to put it,” he stumbles the words out, “I don't like the way it folds.” Mk can feel the nerves in his lower half, the feeling like he could control his tail, but it has a mind of its own. It's not supposed to be here, he thinks his chest squeezing in agony.
“Would you know how to make it comfortable?” Desperation fills Mk at his sentence, like clawing at the bars of a cage. “No Macaque I would have done that already.” His voice cracks at the end. He wishes it didn't. “That's fine.” There's no more questions this time. The heat burns itself out from the inactivity, MK's tied to the floor, not knowing how long he's sat trying to focus on feelings he's not supposed to have. “Take a moment. Start from your limbs at the bottom and just take in how all of them feel one by one and then bring yourself back to the floor.” Mk listens to him for a final time shaking out the nervousness he has, feeling it drain out of him. He's tired. His walls lost foundation in the middle of fighting to hold them up and he lies there on the ground now quiet and controlled. A deep breath actually follows his command as he focuses on his limbs' newfound temperature from scanning for their presence. And for once it's just a feeling that exists rather than one that burns.
Mk managed to work through whatever that was though not without his heart feeling heavy in his chest. He's calmer now, almost sleepy, if he ignores the way sadness drags at the corner of his eyes. After a long period of silence, Macaque sits up from the floor taking a look at him. “How was that?” Mk opens his eyes and stares at the lines etched in the wooden panels of the ceiling. “Well I- I lasted longer than I usually do.” Macaque nods to that. “That's good.” The silence between the two lasts a couple minutes. Mk's tail sweeps the floor in a way he notices to be soft and quiet, in rhythm with the way the other tail next to him moves too. Macaque breaks this small moment when he puts his hands on his knees and gets up from the ground.
“Welp. You probably want to get home by now-” and whatever feeling of calm mk had from the meditation pops inside his chest. “No.” Mk tries to state, stand strong, but it's more like a whimper. The feeling is back in his arms, heat, and it's his resolve splintering like a hammer to glass. Macaque looks back at Mk lying on the ground and the kid bites his tongue, wishing he hadn't felt the need to beg for him to stay like a small child. He thinks back to how he pulled out his staff on Pigsy. His monstrous hands needing another victim to drag down and right now that was Macaque into his loneliness, his problems- “I-I don't want to be alone.” his heart thumps in his chest at his confession and tears well in his eyes. Macaque's eyes soften and he comes back to the ground laying on his side towards the boy. Mk turns toward him and the pit in his stomach falls deeper and his eyes grow heavier. He has no chance of remaining strong with macaque next to him like that. Looking at him with care.
“I can barely breathe.”
If Macaque had asked him where he feels right now it'd be his throat strangled with these words, clawing their way up from his nervous stomach- “I don't even have nightmares about him, I mean Azure but since him I can't seem to breathe. Like. With her-” he pauses hoping Macaque notices who he's trying to reference and not the fact that air is being squeezed out of his lungs as he curls up smaller on the floor “She didn't pretend to be my friend, to know what was right for me. And then with Xiangliu and the pillar.” There's another crack in the kids voice, a crack in the facade, a crack in the moment of time between the two right now. “I can't breathe.” He admits a second time, struggling to push down the rock in his throat and the emotion in his eyes.
Macaque reaches a hand out to pet Mk's hair and if a tear falls down Mk's cheek he pretends not to notice it. “I'll stay just give me a minute,” he mumbles, moving his arm from under his side to make himself more comfortable on the floor. Mk closes his eyes hoping these tears would be his last. “You know all those great stories about monkey King fighting demons?” Mk nods. “Well here's another one.” Macaque starts and Mk leans closer to the floor in exhaustion.
“You know demons used to come to the mountain for a challenge. They knew our place was a paradise and sometimes . You know people look out for good things just to ruin them.” Macaque pauses at Mk's little nod from the floor. “And they kept coming when things were good. So Wukong thought he needed to be stronger, defeat all of them, make sure everyone knows that he's strong so they don't come back. And it's. All he threw himself into you know how the story goes. The journeys, the training, the works.” Mk listens intently, keeping quiet for Macaque. “But with all of that training, he wasn't there you know.” Macaque sighs rewording to try and keep his own bitterness out of the story. “Trying to get stronger, the mountain was… Less pretty.” Macaque manages to say. “The trees weren't at their normal upkeep, the houses were dirty, and a lot of us weren't. Weren't happy. And the demons stopped coming. It wasn't their paradise to ruin anymore.” Mk opened his eyes at this point of the story and macaque seemed to be avoiding them to grab hold of his own thoughts. “And so Wukong had like a triumph right like. I did it,” the older monkey continues this part mockingly high pitched and strung, “I told you, I told you so, I just needed to get stronger.” He puffed out a breath at the words and picked up the pace. “Was he content with that? No. He kept going. He kept thinking about all the demons that stopped coming. He thought, oh when they come back and realize I'm here, they'll come to ruin it all again.” Macaque brings his hand out of Mk's hair and back to his side before continuing. “But the mountain wasn't a paradise anymore and eventually there was nothing left to protect. You get what I'm saying?” Macaque rushes the next part of his sentence before Mk could ask a question. “Now the reason why I'm telling you this story is because meditation is about being in the present-” Macaque brings his hand back to Mk's hair to ruffle it vigorously with a swish. “And not about the demons in the past trying to hurt you.”
Macaque watches for the moment it begins to click in Mk’s mind. The kid blinks and he watches his face in the dim light of the dojo. “Like the story.” are the words that break the silence in the room from the boy and Macaque replies with a nod in agreement.
Mk holds his stomach with guilt in his belly. He can't even pinpoint what the guilt is for. For jumping? For being the wrong successor? For almost attacking Pigsy? For bothering Macaque with his tears? And while Mk's spirals Macaque pulls him closer and Mk shudders against his chest. Macaque's hand is back in his hair and his other rubs his back up and down.
“So how's your mountain?”
Mk blinks. “What?”
Macaque responds to that with a groan pinching the skin on his forehead hoping the metaphor isn't just totally lost on him. “Seriously kid? You have people who care about you, Mk. Where are they? What's going on?” He actually shakes him by the shoulders once at the end of that statement and Mk thinks again. Pigsy.
“I- I hurt them.” Mk manages to spit out, his mouth dry again. “I bet you did.” Macaque says and with that the guilt is back only for a minute. “I bet you didn't mean it though.” and with that Mk stiffens in the hold. Macaque's right. He didn't mean it. Not really. But… his eyes go back to his fists, clenching and unclenching them in thought.
“What do I do?” He asks. Macaque's hands feel warmer on his back now. “You talk. You come back. You take care of them like they do for you.” MK leans his head on Macaque's shoulder. “They care about you kid, you don't have to worry about that part. I doubt they're mad.” Macaque whispers at the end. Mk grips with both hands onto Macaque’s hanfu, feeling his eyes grow wet again. “You work at it.” Mk replies back at the shadow monkey, remembering what Sandy first told him about meditation. “Everyday.” the words are a choke but the truth in them prevails as Macaque nods back at him, never once letting go. Mk finally lets himself cry silently in Macaque's shoulder, having the fabric go damp with his tears. It takes a while for them to subside with his face now just smothered in wet cloth.
Macaque notices the kid's tears stop and turn into quiet sniffles. He shadow portals in some tissues for Mk and steps back from the hold so the kid can use them. The kid picks them up and dabs them under his eyes sheepishly. Macaque takes one of the kids' hands in his. “Can I take you home now?” Macaques asks and a small nod comes from the boy. Another portal opens and this time it takes them outside the noodle shop, Mk now shoving the tissue packet in his jacket pocket.
“Go,” Macaque says, letting go of his hand. “I'll be here if you need it,” the monkey pushes him toward the door with a shove. Mk stumbles a bit before he stands outside the front door. He hesitates to knock but before he can do so the door opens.
“Kid!” Macaque watches as Mk clearly didn't expect a hug from the pig demon after all of that today. “Thank goodness you're alright,” he hears Mk's father grumble, releasing the hug. “I was wondering when you were going to come back.” Mk's heart splits in his chest. “You were?” Pigsy nods. “Of course I did! I wanted to make sure you're okay. I have your soup on the stove right now.” and with those words Mk shoves his hands in his pockets, with one hand squeezing the balled up tissues from earlier. His chest tightens again.
“The red one?” he chokes out and his father nods again. “I uh.” Pigsy stops to rub his neck with one hand, a nervous habit that Mk definitely shares. “Just figured you weren't sleeping well again after you ran off like that.” His father sighs, sounding tired from the long night. “Just tell me next time kid. I'll go easy on you.” Mk's feels tears in his eyes again and Macaque watching him from the back. He slams into Pigsy with a hug trying to calm his shaking. “I'm sorry.” he says, his hands wrapping around his father's back. He's warm and it's constant compared to the burn that lingers in Mk’s forearms. His father is warm and safe and it's scary but right now it feels like home that's waiting for him. Mk adds pressure to the hug after hearing Macaque dip out into a shadow portal leaving the two of them alone. The tightness in Mk's chest pops again, but this time he lets out a deep breath he didn't think he had in him in his father's arms. His tail is limp and comfortable at his side.
“Come on,” Pigsy mumbles. “Let's get inside. We have the morning to figure this out.” and for once Mk agrees following him back inside.