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“W-wait—” an uncharacteristic whimper comes from behind you.
You whirl around immediately, confusion flashing across your face as you turn to look at Kung Lao.
He’s standing there, eyes a little too watery, his lower lip wobbling into a small, uncertain pout. His arms have lifted without him even seeming to notice, reaching out toward you in a quiet, instinctive ‘grab me’ motion.
You blink at him, your eyes darting between his outstretched arms and his face.
“…Lao?” you question.
He freezes for a moment, like his mind is scrambling to catch up, before he quickly drops his arms, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck as his face flushes with embarrassment.
“Uhh… ignore that,” he chuckles nervously.
You stare at him, brows knitting in slight concern.
Well, that was weird.
“…Okay,” you reply slowly, eyeing him briefly. “You… you good?”
“Uh, yeah—just… side effects, probably,” he laughs awkwardly. “Just turned back from being a cute baby and all.”
You hum, still watching him warily, your expression clearly not convinced in the slightest, but not wanting to press him about it.
“It’ll go away soon… hopefully,” he whispers that last part under his breath.
“Hmm?”
“Oh—nothing!” he smiles wide at you, somehow making it worse.
“Okay, well… I’m going to head out for training. You should probably rest, see if you can sleep off the remaining side effects,” you shrug.
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s—great. That’s cool. I’ll just stay here and… nap a bit.”
You hesitate for a moment, eyes lingering on his shuffling form, before turning and making your way once more to the door.
Your hand barely brushes the knob when you hear it.
A sniffle.
You pause, slowly turning around.
Kung Lao is standing right where you left him.
Except now his shoulders are hunched, head ducked to keep his face from being analyzed by you, hands clenching loosely at his sides.
“…Lao?” you murmur carefully.
Another sniffle escapes him.
You blink, your expression going blank, bordering on mildly horrified at what you’re witnessing.
This is certainly getting weird.
“Lao, what’s wrong?” you ask, beginning to walk toward him.
“N-nothing…” he mumbles, his voice tight and wobbly.
You narrow your eyes at him. “Kung Lao.”
He flinches, shoulders hunching even further.
“It’s nothing, I s-swear…” he insists, though the waver in his voice gives him away instantly.
You stare at him, trying to piece together what exactly is making him react like this.
“Are you hurt?”
“No…”
“Sick?”
“No.”
“Dizzy?”
“…No.”
“Hung—”
“No—!”
His voice cracks as he cuts you off, a small hitch catching in his throat.
Your brows furrow as you catch his lips trembling again, and you take another step closer.
“Then why—”
“I just—” he cuts you off again, stopping himself as his voice raises slightly in frustration. “I don’t know why, I just—it was—”
He keeps stumbling over his words, hands twitching at his sides like he wants to reach for you again but is actively stopping himself.
It takes him a moment. You lean in slightly as his voice drops.
“…You were leaving…” he mutters quietly, his tone small.
You still at that, your heart tightening at how soft he sounds.
“Oh…” you breathe.
“…Well, I was just going to train,” you say gently.
He stays quiet for a moment, shifting uncomfortably before speaking again.
“…Do you… do you have to?” he asks softly.
Your eyes widen slightly, staring at him again because there is no way this is happening.
Kung Lao—the same man whose ego is the size of all three realms combined and rivaled Johnny Cage’s inability to shut up—is now standing in front of you on the verge of tears because you were going to train.
Unbelievable.
You rub your face, hand covering your eyes for a moment before letting it drop.
You step in front of him, grabbing his wrist and dragging him to the nearest couch.
“I can’t believe I’m about to do this…” you mutter under your breath.
You plop yourself down, pulling him with you and guiding him to lie down, resting his head on your lap.
“W-wait, what are you—” he starts, only to cut himself off with a small shudder as your fingers slide into his hair, undoing his ponytail.
“Rock-a-bye baby, in the tree tops…” you begin softly, already regretting every decision that led you here.
Kung Lao stares up at you, stunned, his jaw slightly slack as his brain tries to process what is happening.
“When the wind blows, the cradle will rock…”
“I’m… I’m not a child…” he hisses weakly, his face turning bright red, even as his body betrays him, slowly relaxing.
You glance down at him, amused, and continue anyway.
“When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall…”
His expression remains mortified, but the tension from earlier melts away completely, his body going limp against the couch.
“This is humiliating…” he mumbles, burying his face into your lap.
“And down will come baby…”
He snuggles closer without thinking, his arms lazily wrapping around your waist.
“…cradle and all,” you finish, your voice softening into something more fond.
Silence settles between you, neither of you moving.
You watch him carefully, noting how much calmer he seems now.
“…Don’t…” he mumbles, too quiet to catch.
“Hmm?”
“…Don’t stop…” he whispers.
You blink at him before letting out a quiet laugh.
“I’m never letting you live this down.”
“…I know,” he mutters, already resigned.
You smile down at him, continuing to run your fingers through his hair.
“Twinkle, twinkle little star…”