Chapter Text
Something had shifted.
Or at least, something seemed to shift? That or Red Son was starting to go a little insane–which, frankly, wasn’t an unfounded theory. But it definitely felt like something had shifted.
Normally, the changes in Red Son’s life were something within him–quiet acceptance, cautious vulnerability, an attempt to be good or loving or caring. And yes, he had changed significantly. He supposed being in love did that.
Recognizing his feelings already turned Red Son’s world inside out. He suddenly had a greater insight into all his poetics, all his hauntings. But actually accepting his feelings meant a change in priorities too. For what felt like the first time in his life, Red Son was allowing himself to be selfish, to try and chase after what he wanted, everything else be damned.
Red Son wouldn’t say he was courting MK. Not in any proper way, at least. He hadn’t announced his feelings, and he’d made no plans to go through any real courtnapping. Apparently, whatever he was doing was somewhat akin to human “flirting,” but it wasn’t by any means outright shows of affection. But he allowed some of his fondness to spill out his chest.
Red Son would find himself helping MK more with little things: washing dishes, stitching up clothes after a fight, repairing that miserable hunk of metal called a Noodle Cart. He had honestly gotten used to helping MK throughout their friendship–it was an impulse that he had for quite a long time, to be honest. But he indulged it more now. No matter how much he wanted to melt that stupid pile of car parts.
Red Son wasn’t one to blush when it came to bragging about his accomplishments, but lately he spent just a bit more time showboating his large array of vehicles or his training regimen earlier that day. It was normal for humans and demons alike to try and impress a potential partner with their strengths. Red Son might not be as strong as the Monkie Kid, but he was more than willing to coo about his passion projects if it meant showing off his own abilities. He gloated without a shred of shame, even when Mei rolled her eyes at his latest monologue.
More embarrassing was the way he’d fuss over his appearance for a solid fifteen minutes before heading out to see MK. As part of the Demon Bull Family, Red Son made an effort to look presentable, but lately he’d find himself stressing over eyeliner angles and wrinkled shirts more frequently. He knew that MK wouldn’t really notice those slight imperfections, but he couldn’t help himself. Red Son felt beyond idiotic when he was fussing over outfits or that tuft of hair too short to get into his tight ponytail, but he still tried his best to look nice.
Red Son actually planned more get-togethers with just the two of them. (Not so many that Mei would get suspicious, of course.) They were silly, inane things mostly–snack runs across downtown, sparring outside the city, sneaking into noodle joints that MK could never tell Pigsy he would frequent during off time. Red Son would come home late at night, the smell of Megapolis in his hair and a dreamy smile across his face.
He tried not to spend too much money in order to avoid a dinner conversation about his spending habits, but Red Son would splurge just a bit. MK would always get bashful whenever he or Mei would offer to buy him things, so Red Son was careful not to offer up his wallet too often. He’d slip a few dollars in the tip jar of Pigsy’s Noodles whenever he waited for MK’s shift to end. Or he’d buy a few too many snacks at the theater for MK to steal when he thought Red Son wasn’t looking.
Red Son even got MK a new box of pastels. Admittedly, that purchase might have been a bit much. It was a high quality brand, but also an expensive one–far pricier than MK’s noodle delivery boy salary could dream of affording. Red Son feared he may have shown his hand with that move. But in his defense, MK kept complaining about how the pastels Tang got him were nearly gone. Buying him new ones meant Red Son wouldn’t have to hear MK lamenting over it again. Plus, something in Red Son’s heart ached whenever he saw MK’s fingers stained bright pink and yellow as he curled up over his new sketchbook.
So, yes, Red Son had changed immensely for MK. He’d grown ridiculously soft for the enemy. He even sat through a full season of that Monkey Cop spin-off TV show. If that wasn’t proof of his devotion, Red Son didn’t know what was.
But that wasn’t the shift. Red Son could recognize the changes in himself and he could explain them just fine. But those changes weren’t the ones that were driving him insane.
But here was the shift. The real shift. The change that Red Son had begun to notice, that haunted him at night.
Something was up with MK.
Well, that made it sound like there was an issue with MK. Which there wasn’t, at least to Red Son’s knowledge. Honestly, MK seemed pretty happy lately. Every time they hung out, he’d spend the whole time grinning ear to ear. But that might be… part …of the problem? Maybe?
He was always a cheerful person to be around with, but whenever they hung out together, Red Son would notice a lopsided smile on MK’s face. And while MK smiling wasn’t exactly a new phenomena, it looked…different than his usual toothy grin. It felt…softer, somehow. A bit more warm. A bit more overwhelming to look at directly.
Now, Red Son was aware that insisting MK had a different smile than usual wasn’t exactly evidence things had shifted. If anything, it made him look like a freak–he shouldn’t be studying MK’s face enough to notice such small changes in detail. But there was more evidence. Really.
Like MK's praise. MK was never one to hold back compliments, of course, but lately it didn’t seem to stop. Every time Red Son would brag about his newest vehicle, or relay his training regimen, MK would immediately shower him with praise about how smart and strong and cool he was, making all of Red Son’s bravado crumble into dust. Red Son would get this close to incinerating his stupid Noodle Cart when MK would suddenly thank him for being so nice– so kind . They’d be sitting there talking about nothing at all when MK would suddenly give Red Son that warm, lopsided smile and murmur about how happy he was to spend time with him.
MK was always quick to compliment his friends. He was an affectionate person in general. But the praise had ramped up to a point that Red Son couldn’t help but notice a change. It had even gotten to a point where MK would compliment how he looked.
Even though Red Son felt like a fool for fussing over his appearance, MK actually noticed those little changes enough to comment. He’d shove his face too close to Red Son’s to compliment his eyeliner. He’d tug at Red Son’s shirt fabric to tell him how nice he looked in it. And it was always completely unprompted.
Once, Red Son had been sitting on the floor of MK’s apartment, trying to fix MK's phone after it got whacked during a fight. After begging for what felt like ages, Red Son allowed MK to watch Mei's new livestream using one of his holographic screens, so long as he didn't touch anything. Even if Red Son trusted MK with his secrets, there were still plenty of confidential things on file. Plus, he worried MK would mess around and somehow delete everything. So MK kept his hands to himself, watching Mei's stream on the bright pink screen.
It was going fine. MK seemed happy having a larger screen watch the livestream, and Red Son was content with helping MK by fixing his phone. But then, MK lurched across the bed, going through the screen in order to reach out and touch the little tuft of Red Son's hair.
“How do you keep your bangs up all the time?” MK asked, seemingly unaware at how his touch made Red Son’s nerve endings jolt.
“They’re not bangs.” Red Son hissed through his teeth. “This part of my hair always goes up.”
MK kept playing with the strands of Red Son’s hair. “So, it’s like a cowlick then?” He asked.
“Something like that.” Red Son grumbled. ‘
MK laughed at that, a warm and melodious noise that made the back of Red Son’s neck burn. He tried not to set MK’s fingers on fire.
“I always thought that it looked like a little campfire.” MK said. “Figured it was intentional–you know, fire powers, fire hair, fire…cowlick?” He laughed again at his own joke.
Then, before Red Son’s eyes, he saw the shift. MK’s typical wide grin morphed into something…different. Warmer. Lopsided. Entirely overwhelming for Red Son to witness. His eyebrows crinkled just a bit, like MK was trying to restrain himself from smiling–which made no sense, seeing how it was MK. But still, he seemed unable to fight back the urge to grin as he spoke. “It’s kind of adorable.”
Adorable rang through Red Son’s ears for a full week. He kept running his hands through that tuft of hair, trying to simulate the feeling of MK’s fingers.
MK praising someone for their strengths wasn’t strange, even if the intensity had increased significantly. Commenting on looks, however, was a different story. MK wouldn’t really fixate on appearances beyond doodling eccentric-looking customers who wandered into Pigsy’s. He would say that Mei looked good in her new jacket, but he wouldn’t gush by any means.
But now if Red Son wore any shirt without sleeves, MK would be all over his biceps, bombarding him with questions on how he trained his arms and if he needed his coat tailor-made to “fit his guns in.” (Which made no sense, since he didn’t fight with guns at all.) He supposed Mei wasn’t kidding about MK having a “a whole thing ” for biceps, even though whatever that thing was still evaded Red Son.
Then again, maybe MK noticed Red Son’s looks because he’d been staring at him so much lately.
Normally, MK was alright at focusing on a conversation, but his eyes would inevitably wander to the floor, or ceiling, or window. It wasn’t for long. Lately though, MK’s eyes always seemed to land on Red Son. And he would know–Red Son’s eyes were usually on MK.
Red Son would always jolt whenever MK locked eyes with him, like he’d been caught in the middle of some heinous act. But MK didn’t seem to mind. His lips would quirk up into that same warm smile, eyes practically sparkling. And even though Red Son would look away, MK wouldn’t.
Red Son could be doing anything– arguing with Mei about a race match, eating a fresh bowl of noodles from Pigsy’s, grumbling about some particularly embarrassing dialogue he had with his mother, and MK would watch him. He could barely escape it. Anytime he looked up or to the side, he’d see warm brown eyes staring back at him. It was starting to drive Red Son a little insane.
One time Red Son actually asked MK about it. He was sitting at a booth in Pigsy’s, idly reading the menu, when he noticed MK staring at him while he wiped down tables.
“Shouldn’t you be focusing on your work?” Red Son pointed out. “You shouldn’t be looking at me.”
“Wiping down tables isn’t that hard.” MK pshawed. “Plus, I told you I wanted to draw you right? So I gotta look at you more.” He held his thumb out in front of him, tilting his head slightly. “Figure out your proportions.”
That was another thing. The drawing. Whenever MK had his hands on his sketchbook, he would draw furiously, glancing up at Red Son every couple seconds as the sound of pencil on paper filled the room. Sometimes, MK would ask Red Son to turn his head, or move his hand, or sit just a little closer to the window so that “the light hit his eyes better.”
Not that MK would let Red Son see the drawings. He’d insist that he was only allowed to see it when he was done. Which Red Son found completely unfair, seeing how Pigsy or Tang or even Mei was allowed to flip through his sketchbook, but apparently Red Son couldn’t. He only hand made it, but whatever. He tried not to feel put out by that. He honestly couldn’t, given how apparently Red Son was usually the main subject of MK’s works.
When Red Son called MK out on it once, he explained that apparently, this was different from his other drawings. If Red Son wanted to card through his Monkey King biography or the hundreds of little doodles he had on scrap paper, he could go nuts, but what MK was trying to make was a gift. And he didn’t want Red Son seeing that gift until he felt it was ready.
Red Son could respect that; he wouldn’t want to present a new project to his parents if it were only half complete. He didn’t expect MK to be that much of a perfectionist over it, but he wasn’t going to question the process. He’d be a hypocrite to do so.
Still, that wasn’t really relevant at the moment, given how MK was holding a spray bottle and a cheap rag, not a scrapbook and pencil.
Red Son huffed at MK. “You’re not even drawing right now.”
MK sprayed down a table and shrugged. “Well, yeah, but I still need to look at you. I gotta get myself familiar with your features.” He looked up at Red Son with a coy smile. “Plus, I want to look at you. So I’m gonna keep doing that.”
Red Son coughed into his fist, trying not to spark up in Pigsy’s Noodles. The smoke alarm was quite tricky in the restaurant.
Red Son could, at least to some degree, understand why MK wanted to draw him as a gift. He’d made him a sketchbook, and MK wanted to do something for him in return. It wasn’t necessary, seeing as how the sketch was essentially a birthday gift, (Or whatever MK’s birth situation was. He really needed to ask MK to elaborate on that.) but the notion was sweet. And Red Son wasn’t going to turn down a free portrait. He’d never seen MK’s art before, but he was sure he’d love whatever MK made for him. Even if his medium choice of crayons was questionable.
The other gifts, however, Red Son couldn’t really explain.
Anytime MK and Red Son went out to an arcade, MK would insist on winning him some prize. Red Son didn’t pay much heed to it at first–MK once spent two hours trying to win enough tickets to get Mei a massive foam sword. But his collection of baubles grew very quickly; cheap jewelry, stuffed animals, fidget toys, and figurines all found a home in the back of Red Son’s drawers. One night, he came home lugging a stuffed cow so tall it reached his shoulders, and he had to pass his mother in the halls. She stared at it with a raised eyebrow, but the only explanation Red Son could give was awkward laughter
It wasn’t just little trinkets from the arcade either. MK had stocked his pantry with Red Son’s favorite foods. And not just the spare bags of latiao from snack runs. Now, if Red Son was ever hungry when hanging out at MK’s place, he could open the fridge to find his favorite fruits chilling in a small drawer. If he complained about missing a meal, MK would either order him food from what few human restaurants he found pleasant or whipped something up himself. Red Son saw MK’s spice cabinet grow with each visit, all to accommodate Red Son’s tastes.
One night, MK asked Red Son to brew some oolong for him, and when he opened up his pantry he found a container of loose pu’er tea leaves. Red Son laughed when he saw it.
“I thought you said pu’er tastes like dirt.” Red Son smirked at him. “Have you finally come to your senses?”
“Oh, it still tastes like dirt.” MK replied, not looking up from his comic. “That’s for you to drink.”
Whatever snark Red Son had was knocked out of him at that, but MK barely seemed to notice, flipping through the comic book as he spoke. “I went out a while back to buy you some tea. Y’know, since the bagged stuff is ‘peasant drink’ or whatever to you. I dunno if this brand’s up to your standards or whatever, but the reviews online said it was good.”
He peeked out of his comic book, eyes crinkled up in a smile. “You like it?”
Red Son hoped the tips of his ears weren’t smoking. They certainly felt on fire as he went to grab the kettle.
When Red Son looked into the brand later, he discovered that MK had actually splurged a decent amount on the tea–nothing insanely expensive, but definitely not the wisest financial decision a delivery boy could make. And while Red Son certainly railed on MK for spending his money on something so frivolous, it wasn’t even the most expensive gift. No, the pu’er was dethroned a week ago.
Red Son and MK were watching some old animated film about Nezha. MK was spending most of the movie raving to Red Son about trivia facts, all of which Red Son quietly listened to. He’d been putting his hair back into a ponytail when he felt the band snap against his palm.
“Wonderful.” Red Son dropped his arms, letting his hair fan around him. “That’s the fourth hair tie this week to break on me.” He sighed, leaning back on the bed. “I’ll have to buy some new ones.”
MK hummed as he stared at Red Son. “You don’t have to keep it up all the time.”
“It would only get in the way.” Red Son snorted. “You do realize I spend most of my time working around very hot and very sharp things? I’d rather not get my hair caught in my newest project.”
“Okay, but you’re not working right now, right? We’re hanging out.” MK said.
“My point still stands.” Red Son huffed. “It’s less of a hassle when it’s up.”
Even though a fight scene had started up on the screen, MK kept looking at Red Son, tilting his head in thought. Suddenly, his eyes lit up.
“Oh, wait!” MK futzed around for the remote and paused the movie. “I have something!”
MK practically fell out of his bed as he scrambled around his house, opening up drawers and murmuring to himself looking for…something. Red Son watched, baffled. “If you make me wear one of your stupid bandanas, I’ll blow a hole through your hovel. Again. ”
“No, no, it’s not that.” MK laughed as he finally pulled out a box from his drawer. “I just remembered that I got you this.”
Red Son frowned as he took the box from MK. “Is there a reason you got me something?” He asked.
“Uh, not really?” MK shrugged. “I was driving around the shopping district for a delivery, and I saw one of the stores had this, and I remembered you saying your hair ties were always snapping, and I dunno. Thought you’d like it.”
MK stammered now, looking away from Red Son. “It was kind of dumb of me to buy it, but, uh. I did anyway. So. Yeah.”
He seemed…almost embarrassed? Which was confusing, because there were far more stupid things that MK had done shamelessly. But right now, he couldn’t meet Red Son’s gaze as he babbled more excuses, hands shoved deep in his pockets and cheeks dusted a light pink.
It was odd, but Red Son decided not to call MK out of it. He opened up the little box.
Inside was a large metal claw clip, made to look like a branch of white plum blossoms. It was a delicate looking hair accessory, and judging by its appearance, an expensive one too. Red Son took the clip out carefully as he continued to inspect it.
“... How much did you spend on this, exactly?” Red Son asked.
“Uhh-well-that-that doesn’t matter.” MK looked away, flushed. “What matters is if you like it. So…uh…” He glanced at Red Son now, seemingly having gained the courage to look him in the eye again. “Do you?”
Red Son ran his finger along the delicate curve of the plum blossom, the back of his neck searing. He wasn’t used to being so…so…what was the word for it? Spoiled? Pampered? He knew MK had a blunt force love, but this seemed like a lot even for him.
But it was…nice. It was nice to be spoiled and pampered. He liked having MK call him smart, and kind and adorable. He liked that MK’s eyes always seemed to land on him. His ears always pricked up at the sound of pencil against paper. Every little bauble MK got for him was cared for and loved. Even if Red Son couldn’t understand why MK was acting like this, he wasn’t really complaining either.
“I do.” Red Son murmured. “I adore it.”
“That’s good.” A weight seemed to lift off MK’s shoulders. “Would’ve sucked if I spent half my paycheck on something you didn’t like.”
Red Son almost melted his brand new claw clip. “You spent half your paycheck?!”
“It’s fine !” MK insisted. “It’s not like I’m gonna go hungry– I’m Pigsy’s guinea pig for any new food. Well, me and Tang.” He put his hands on his hips confidently. “I just won’t shower for a little while.”
Red Son honestly had half a mind to return the claw clip, but after MK kept insisting that it was fine, he finally relented, wrapping his hair in a bun and securing it with the new accessory. He kept finding himself running his hands along the metal petals, still in disbelief that MK had taken the time to buy him something like this. And what for? Just because he wanted to? It was stupid, even for him.
“My family used to grow plums.” Red Son muttered. “When I was a child, they’d keep them in our garden.”
MK sat back down on the bed, hugging his monkey plush against his chest. “Yeah? That’s a good thing then, right?” He smiled. “I got you a flower you liked.”
Look, Red Son couldn’t read MK like a billboard the same way MK could with him, but there was something…different about him. It was just hard to explain what. Maybe it wasn’t that things had shifted, but that MK had increased his… MKness. And, well, Red Son loved MK. There wasn’t a problem.
Red Son couldn’t help the smile that creeped up his face. “It is a good thing.” He nodded. “But for future reference, I prefer peonies.”
For some reason, MK found that statement incredibly funny. He flopped onto the bed, laughing out loud for a near minute before finally collecting himself and starting the movie.
So, there was definitely a shift in MK. And while Red Son very clearly could see it, he wasn’t sure how to… tell people.
Or more accurately, he wasn’t sure who to tell. It’s not like he could ask his parents for their insight. The bull clones weren’t going to be much help with interpersonal matters. And Red Son had a feeling if he asked Pigsy if MK had been asking strange lately, it would somehow be turned against him.
So that left Mei. And Red Son wasn’t exactly sure how to ask her about any of this without accidentally revealing his own feelings in the process. It’s not like he didn’t trust Mei with it or anything, but he still wasn’t quite sure what he could do with his feelings for MK. Even with what paltry excuses for “flirting” he’d done, it wasn’t anything beyond testing the waters. Actively telling Mei felt like too large a step.
But still, if anyone knew something was wrong, it would be her, right? She was MK’s best friend in the world. Even if MK didn’t always come to her about his issues, she could always tell when he was hiding something.
It was a conversation Red Son figured he should have in person. So when Mei insisted she do his makeup before going out for his first time “clubbing,” he decided to use that opportunity.
“MK’s been acting different. Do you know why?” Red Son asked as he stared up at the ceiling.
Mei hummed as she drew across Red Son’s waterline. “You think he’s been acting different? How?”
Red Son sighed. “It’s nothing bad, he’s just been more…” He waved his hands around a bit before eventually finding his words. “More of himself than usual.”
Mei raised her eyebrow. “That doesn’t really tell me much, Red Boy.”
Red Son groaned. “Well I don’t know how to explain it!” He tried to move his head to glare at Mei, but she forced it back up, chiding him. He spoke over her as she continued to do his eyeliner. “He’s just been acting more…more everything lately.”
“You’re gonna have to give me some more adjectives, dude.” Mei snorted a bit as she fumbled through her makeup bag. “What color mascara do you want? I’ve got black, dark brown, and green.”
“Black.” Red Son grunted. “And if I knew the proper adjectives, I’d be saying them.” He sighed as Mei tilted his head to do his mascara. “Does he still treat you the same?”
“Yep.” Mei said, popping the “p.” She stuck her tongue out as she worked. “Why? Is he being mean to you? Because he should know, only I get to bully you.” She jammed her finger into Red Son’s chest.
Red Son grumbled. “He’s not being mean. It’s-it’s the opposite, frankly.” He prayed that he wasn’t blushing too much. Or at the very least, that Mei would confuse the pink on his cheeks with the blush she’d dabbed on earlier.
“Well,” Mei closed her mascara. “The only real change I’ve noticed is that MK seems pretty happy lately. And if he’s happy, then there’s no problem, right? He deserves a break from all that Mystic Monkie angst.”
“But-but still,” Red Son protested. “Don’t you wonder why he’s happier?”
“I mean, yeah. ” Mei closed her makeup bag. “But he’s my best friend. And he’s your friend too. He’ll tell us when he’s ready.”
That…was…fair, Red Son supposed. It didn’t give Red Son any answers, but it was a bit comforting. MK was happy. And so at the very least, whatever had caused MK’s shift had to be something good. So eventually, he’d bring himself to talk about it.
Mei handed Red Son a hand mirror to look at himself. “I’m gonna go potty, and then we can meet up with MK and porty. ” She laughed at her own joke, her grin only widened as Red Son curled his lip in disgust.
“Ooh, and while we head over to MK’s, you can tell me where you got that claw clip.” She flicked one of the metal petals, the accessory making a light thunk. “It looks fancy.”
“Your hair’s a bit short for a claw clip, isn’t it?” Red Son snorted. He’d admit, he decided it would be… fun to try and dress a bit differently for the occasion. Half his hair was down, while the other was held together by the claw clip. That, combined with the fact that he was wearing a gift MK got for him was…it wasn’t embarrassing, of course, but he was a bit cagey on the matter.
“I wouldn’t know where it’s from anyways.” Red Son huffed, looking away. “...MK got it for me.”
Mei’s eyes widened. “ MK got you this? ” She inspected the claw clip more closely now, not pulling it out of Red Son’s hair but definitely tugging it around. “Jeez, how much did it cost?”
Red Son huffed. “According to MK? Half his paycheck.”
Mei whistled. “Dang. Maybe you’re right about MK acting differently. To you at least. He hasn’t even given me back my comic.”
Suddenly, Mei grabbed Red Son’s shoulders, popping her face next to his so their cheeks touched. “Awwww, Red Boy. If you and MK start dating, you know you gotta ask for my approval, right?”
Red Son shoved Mei’s face away. “We’re not dating! ” He snapped, the ends of his hair smoking in a cocktail of indignation and embarrassment.
“And don’t think this changes your place on the bestie leaderboard!” Mei stood up straight. “You’re still in sixth place.”
Red Son sputtered, unable to even form the right sentences to curse Mei out. She just cackled all the way to the bathroom, her laughter muffled by the door.
Red Son grumbled in his seat as he propped up the hand mirror. Mei fidgeted with his hair so much he’d have to redo it. He frowned as he grabbed the claw clip. He didn’t think he’d let anything slip about his feelings, but given Mei’s last comment, he must have. Him and MK, dating. It was completely unprompted. And why would he have to ask for Mei’s approval like they were arranging a marriage? And-and- wait, what number was he now?
Red Son reared his head around to the bathroom door. “What do you mean I’m sixth?!”
From inside the bathroom, Mei burst into laughter.
Nightclubs were terrible and Red Son would burn them all down given the opportunity.
He said that about a lot of places Mei and MK dragged him along to, but he meant it this time. He was going to find every single nightclub in Megapolis–no, China–no, the mortal realm– and he was going to incinerate them. Forget being good, or loving, or caring, he was fully prepared to return to a life of villainy if it meant purging the universe of this scourge.
Nightclubs were dark, dingy buildings packed with people drinking, dancing, or some combination of the both. It was uncomfortably hot and stuffy, making Red Son of all people sweat. It was unreasonably loud, to the point that Red Son couldn’t even ask Mei a question without screaming at the top of his lungs. Every two minutes, someone would elbow him in the ribs, or step on his shoes, but if Red Son tried to set their hair on fire, he’d be the bad guy.
Red Son understood why most of the people here were drunk–you could only tolerate these conditions if you were completely plastered.
It was probably one or two in the morning when the club finally kicked everybody out. While Mei searched on her phone for some cheap 24-hour fast food, Red Son leaned against the wall of the night club, grumbling to himself. His feet were sore from the heels he wore. Someone had spilled some overpriced drink on his jumpsuit, a dark indigo spot right on the center of his chest.
Worst of all, Red Son made the mistake of letting his hair down. Now, it clung to the back of his neck from how much he’d been sweating, the sensation sticky and uncomfortable. He could only imagine how terrible he looked.
But when MK came over, he didn’t comment on any of that. Instead, he took a lock of Red Son’s hair in his hand, his thumb running across the thick strands.
“I never understood how you kept your hair all up in your ponytail.” MK murmured. “It almost seems to go up? It reminded me of a torch in a video game or something. Which makes sense, you’ve got fire powers and all, but when you wear it down like this, it almost looks completely different. It has like…I dunno, volume? Thickness? It’s always more hair than I expect.”
Red Son raised an eyebrow as MK ran his thumb along the lock of hair. He was about to remind MK that his hair also seemed to defy gravity when MK smiled. “It’s pretty like this.”
Maybe it was just the heels, but Red Son almost slipped off his feet.
He opened his mouth to try and respond, but MK continued talking. “I mean, it’s pretty when it’s up too, sure, but I see it up all the time. That’s a familiar pretty. Seeing your hair down’s like…I dunno. A treat, I guess.” He brought the lock of hair closer to his face as if to inspect it, humming. “You should wear it down more often.”
Okay. Okay. That was a lot of prettys for Red Son to process. His mind replayed MK’s words over and over again. He found his hair pretty when it was down–which, sure, considering how often Mei begged to let her style it, maybe it really did look better out of the typical updo. But MK hadn’t called his usual ponytail ugly. No, he called it a familiar pretty. A pretty that he’d grown used to. Implying that he found Red Son–he thought Red Son was–that he was always–
He couldn’t take it any more. Red Son moved his face closer to MK’s eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Huh?” MK’s smile didn’t leave him.
“You’ve been acting different. ” Red Son said. “Strange. And it’s seemingly all directed towards me. Dragon Girl said you’d let us know when you’re ready, but I want answers, now.”
MK looked bashful now, glancing to the side. “Do I really act that different?”
“Yes!” Red Son hissed. MK flinched at that, so he softened his voice. “Not a bad different, mind you. Just…different.” He huffed, looking away. “You seem even more chipper than usual.”
MK pursed his lips in thought, brow slightly furrowed. He hummed for a bit before looking back at Red Son. “I guess I am pretty happy lately.”
“Is there any reason why?” Red Son asked.
MK laughed a bit, scratching the back of his head. “Well, it’s a bit of a long story, but…uh…” He hiked up his shoulders. “A while back, my soulmate and I started talking.”
Oh. Something in Red Son’s chest plummeted into his stomach. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but some stupid part of him thought MK was happy because of…well…him.
“He said he was a bit worried about getting super close, but wanted us to talk more. Be friendly, y’know?” Mk shrugged. “And it was nice. Really nice.”
Red Son could see where this was going. MK’s soulmate had finally wizened up enough to appreciate who he had, and ever forgiving MK welcomed him with open arms. Why did Red Son think he had a chance? The only romance MK had ever spoken about wanting was something like Pigsy and Tang, a love so powerful it connected body and soul. Red Son abandoned what little chance he had to foster that sort of bond for MK, but why would he expect MK to abandon his soulmate for him?
“So, you two are getting along well then?” Red Son tried his best not to sound miserable.
MK sucked his breath in through his teeth. “Actually, no.” He crossed his arms. “He kinda told me he was in love with someone.”
That put a halt to Red Son’s pity party. MK looked at the floor, the subject clearly sensitive to him.
“We had only been talking for a couple weeks when suddenly he said that he loved someone and he wanted to, like, go out with them. And I mean, it’s not like I can say no. ” MK’s hands began to dance around as he spoke. “It’s not like you gotta marry your soulmate or whatever, I can’t stop him from being with who he loves. So I-I-”
MK huffed. “Honestly, I think the only reason he spoke to me at all is because he wanted me to-to-I dunno.” He kicked an empty beer can on the ground. “Approve of his new relationship, or something. Make sure he didn’t have any loose ends before asking someone out.”
…. Well. Red Son watched the empty beer can roll down the street. MK’s soulmate was certainly a piece of work. Red Son took a deep breath, trying not to literally burst out in anger.
“I mean-” MK put his hands in his jacket pockets. “I wasn’t-it’s not like I was crazy sad about it or anything. I still don’t really know the guy, so it’d be weird to like, cry over him. But I dunno. Maybe I got my hopes up that we’d at least be…be something. ”
Red Son could understand that. A small part of him wondered if Xiaotian felt the same way. He made a mental note to say hello to him tomorrow morning. It’d been a while since they’d last spoken.
Still though there was something that baffled Red Son. "But you said you're happy."
“Well, I am." MK looked up at Red Son. “I’m really happy.”
Okay, that just made things even more confusing. “Didn’t you just say you were upset over your soulmate?” Red Son asked.
“Well, yeah. I was upset.” MK stepped closer to Red, their chests almost touching. “But, I realized I didn’t really want my soulmate anyways. Or at least, I stopped wanting him a while ago.”
When MK looked up at Red Son, that new smile was there, wide and lopsided and somehow restrained despite being brimming with some emotion Red Son couldn’t name. MK’s eyes sparkled in the dim streetlight, the only pretty thing on that downtown street in Megapolis. He spoke, soft and low, his breath fanning Red Son’s face. “I found someone better.”
That…was…
“How drunk are you?” Red Son narrowed his eyes.
“I’m not drunk!” MK protested, stepping away now. “Do you know how expensive alcohol is here? Plus, Pigsy would kill me if I was hungover at work.”
Yeah, there was no way MK was sober right now. Red Son didn’t smell any alcohol in his breath, but frankly, he was acting so weird that he had to be inebriated. Red Son was fully prepared to ask MK to walk in a straight line when Mei came bounding over.
“Okay! There’s a fried chicken place a couple blocks away that’s open for another hour. We can go there to– woof. Red Boy.” Mei elbowed Red Son in the chest. “Are you gonna be okay walking, or are you gonna turn to ash if you take another step?”
“Oh!” MK turned his back to Red Son and squatted. He looked over his shoulder with a grin. “I can carry you to the chicken place!”
Red Son’s hair flared up. “Absolutely not.” He wasn’t going to take a piggyback ride from what was most certainly a drunk man.
“Come on, it’ll be fine!” MK insisted. “Do you know how many boulders Monkey King makes me carry? It’d be like holding a stick.”
“I weigh more than a stick, Noodle Boy.” Red Son hissed. “No matter how much Dragon Girl insists otherwise.”
“You get my point.” MK laughed. “C’mon, it’s no big deal.”
Red Son really didn’t want to take up the offer, but his feet hurt more than his pride, so eventually MK hoisted him up. Red Son looped his arms around MK’s neck, head bobbing just above MK as they walked to get food.
Red Son could smell the cheap conditioner MK used–a soapy scent which barely imitated fruit. How MK had such nice hair when he used such paltry products was beyond him. From the few times Red Son had ever touched MK’s hair, he found it soft and silken. He could only imagine how gorgeous MK’s hair would be if he took proper care of it.
Maybe he would wear his hair down more often. At least, more often around MK.
Red Son was the biggest night owl out of everyone in the Demon Bull Family. More often than not he’d stay up until the crack of dawn working, giving him only a few precious hours to sleep before he started his morning routine. Even when he wasn’t working Red Son would stay up longer than usual, tossing and turning in his bed. Demon Bull King would sometimes stay up to catch the latest marathon of Cooking With Chang’e, but he’d eventually slip into sleep around midnight.
As for Princess Iron Fan, she always kept a strict sleeping regimen–early to bed, and early to rise. So it was a bit surprising for Red Son to come home that night to find her in the dining room.
Princess Iron Fan was sipping a cup of tea as she read. She looked up from her book when Red Son walked in, her lip curled in distaste. “Do you normally come home looking this disheveled? ”
“When I do, you’re normally not up.” Red Son muttered, face hot from humiliation.
Princess Iron Fan sighed, picking up her tea to sip. “Demon Bull King’s been watching some new drama. The lead’s voice is so insufferable I can’t stand to be in the room when he turns it on. But, he’s invested now, so I’ll have to wait until he’s done with his little show.”
“I see.” Red Son grunted. “I’m off to bed then. I’ll try to get up before breakfast.”
Red Son walked through the dining room. He wasn’t in the mood to listen to his mother ask why his jumpsuit reeked of booze or why his hair looked like a hurricane. He wanted to take off his heels, flop onto his bed, and sleep in for the first time in months.
But then, Princess Iron Fan put her book down and raised her brow. “What’s in your hair?”
Oh. Heat ran up Red Son’s face. “Erm–it’s a claw clip.” He took the clip out, letting his hair fall down his shoulder in waves as he handed it to his mother.
Princess Iron Fan frowned as she inspected the claw clip. “It looks…” She clicked her tongue. “Cheap.”
“It’s-it’s not that cheap.” Red Son waved one hand in the air. “It’s quaint. And a perfectly functional hair accessory.” He knew it was probably unwise to defend the claw clip to his mother, but he felt the urge to. “I like it just fine.”
“ Oh. ” Princess Iron Fan sighed as she looked over at Red Son. “I see.” She handed the claw clip back to Red Son. “No wonder you’re wearing something so tacky. Your little tryst got you another courting gift.”
Princess Iron Fan definitely said something else after that, but honestly Red Son’s mind blanked from her last three words. “A-another? Courting gift?” He squeaked.
“Well of course.” She snorted. “You think I haven’t seen you sneaking in your little presents? Those tiny trinkets the bull clones keep shoveling out of your drawers? I saw you lugging in that stuffed toy.” She wrinkled her nose. “That looked cheap as well. Your little human doesn’t have much in terms of means, do they?”
“I-that’s-” Red Son stammered, unsure how exactly to respond. “It’s the thought that counts.”
Princess Iron Fan barked out a laugh. “Well, when you can’t count money, I suppose the thought’s all you can count.” She hummed as she picked her book back up. “But you clearly aren’t complaining.”
“Good night, Mother.” Red Son stomped out of the dining room, wincing with each step.
The weird web of lies Red Son had created about his human courtship really threw him for a loop. Sure, in retrospect he could sort of see where his parents were coming from. He was spending more time out, he’d been buying odd purchases, and while “lovesick puppy” was a rather embarrassing term, it wasn’t entirely inaccurate. But still, it felt odd to describe any of MK’s gift’s as “courting gifts.”
Courting gifts were obvious announcements of adoration. You’d shower the object of your affections with whatever item they could possibly desire. It was meant to show not only that you were capable of providing a good life for them, but that you cared about them enough to get them such things in the first place. And MK wasn’t doing that. Red Son hadn’t exactly asked for a giant stuffed cow.
Well, he did look at it at the prize stand in the arcade for a bit too long. Not out of want, but more curiosity. And he supposed MK took that as a sign to win him the cow, even though it took hours. All those little trinkets MK could at the arcade were because he thought Red Son would like them. And he did–he would admit to futzing around with the fidget toys whenever there was a lull in his work.
And right now, there was a tin of loose leaf in MK’s apartment because Red Son complained about tea from tea bags tasting like garbage. And MK always kept some lychee in the fridge in case Red Son came over, because it was his favorite fruit. And the whole reason he got that claw clip was because Red Son kept talking about his hair ties snapping, so he spent half his paycheck to help him. And…uh…
Wait.
As Red Son closed the door to his room, the pieces began to fall into place. MK constantly staring at Red Son. Providing for him however he could, given his meager salary. The torrent of praise about him. MK–MK said he looked pretty. And not just that he looked pretty tonight, but that Red Son had become a familiar pretty. Which implied that MK found him pretty all the time.
And wait, wasn’t constantly drawing Red Son a bit–that was like, a thing, right? Artists having their muses? Red Son wouldn’t go as far as to say he was MK’s muse, but surely, constantly staring at Red Son to get familiar with his features was a bit odd, wasn’t it?
And-and-WAIT. When Mei joked about MK and Red Son dating, he figured that was completely unprompted, but if MK never treated his best friend in the world the way he treated Red Son right now, then surely, surely, the way MK was behaving couldn’t at all be platonic.
But that would mean– that would mean-
Red Son laid back against the door, sliding down to the floor. He had spent so much time fussing around whether or not to fully court MK that he never fully considered that he might be the one getting courted. And why would he? MK wasn’t a romantic. He’d never lamented about being single. He never pined for a person. The closest thing he had to that was his soulmate, and apparently MK had…had…
Wait. Red Son’s mind raced back to earlier outside the nightclub, where MK smiled up at him as they stood chest to chest. He’d said he’d found someone better. And when he said he found someone better, he stepped close to Red Son staring up at him like he was the sun, and not the other way around.
Was that someone…was he…there was no way MK was talking about him, right?
Red Son’s face burned bright red as he kicked off his heels, sitting on the floor of his bedroom in disbelief. It would all make sense. It would explain the shift. But that would mean that MK…that MK…
Red Son pulled his phone out of his pocket and called Mei. His face was surely a deep shade of scarlet at the moment, but in the privacy of his room, he didn't worry about anyone seeing it. She answered after four rings.
“Red Boy, it’s like, 4 am.” She groaned. “Why are you-”
“When you said MK had ‘a whole thing for biceps,’ what did you mean by that?” Red Son asked.
Mei was quiet for a beat before groaning. “Did you seriously wake me up for this?”
“Yes.” Red Son tried to keep his voice from shaking.
Red Son could hear Mei tossing and turning in her sheets. “He thinks they’re like, nice to look at. He insists it’s not about him finding them hot, but I dunno, he gets pretty fixated.” She yawned. “If he’s been checking you out too much, I can tell him to stop.”
“Checking me out?” Red Son echoed.
“Yeah.” Mei said. “He looks at you a lot.”
Red Son hung up the phone and let it drop to the floor. He knew Mei would call him up the next morning demanding an explanation, but he didn’t really have it in him to care.
Even though he knew should get up and start his nightly routine, Red Son didn't have it in him to do it. His head was spinning, MK's blunt force love concussing him like it never had before. He’d finally found the word for how he felt. Not spoiled. Not pampered. Red Son felt courted.