Chapter Text
It was safe to say that breakfast was. Uh.
A bit of an awkward affair.
Red Son’s did have plans to whip up breakfast for MK. But he kind of had other things on his mind at the moment. Whatever flowery language that had floated through his head about apples and orange slices were forgotten now.
It probably wouldn’t have mattered anyway. Once MK was up and out of bed, he insisted on handling breakfast. Something about it being his apartment so he had to be a good host. Red S on normally would've made a snarky comment at the concept of MK being a host for anything, but he didn't have it in him to be sarcastic. So now, MK was digging through his fridge trying to find something for the two of them to eat.
“You know, maybe it’s kind of a good thing you woke me up.” MK’s voice rang out through the sound of plastic containers and bottles getting shuffled around. “I actually have time to get ready.”
MK continued to search through the fridge. “Normally I just scramble to work in like, ten minutes. If I’m really quick, I can eat like, half an apple.” He laughed to himself. “Maybe you have a point about trying to wake up earlier.”
If Red Son were paying attention, he probably would’ve rolled his eyes and crossed his legs with a sneer, that of course he had a point, MK’s sleep schedule was terrible . And then MK would point out that Red Son stayed up just as late as he did, so technically MK got more sleep than he did. And Red Son would sputter for a solid five seconds trying to defend himself before MK laughed. And then the room would get a little warmer–or at least, the world would feel a bit warmer to Red Son.
But he wasn’t paying attention to any of that. Red Son was sitting on the edge of the bed, still staring at the sketchbook which sat on the corner of MK’s desk.
A part of him wanted to crack open the sketchbook again just to see if his eyes had played tricks on him. He knew MK would get mad though–not like, genuinely angry, but upset enough that Red Son wouldn’t want to risk it.
Plus…well…he knew what he saw. Red Son stared at MK as he pulled two small bags from the fridge, his words foggy. He knew exactly what he saw.
Everything had started falling into place so easily. Red Son had barely even considered courting MK and suddenly he was getting showered in affections beyond his wildest dreams. It had all hit Red Son so quickly. Too quickly. He should’ve realized fate wouldn’t let things be simple. When had anything ever been simple for Red Son? When did things ever just go his way?
His soulmate. Gods, MK was-he was-
Red Son had spent most of his life believing all he wanted was a soulmate and a year believing that wasn’t possible. And now when he finally realized that he wanted, finally let go of the bramble that had grown in his chest, now he learned that MK was his soulmate this whole fucking time.
It felt like a joke. Any moment now, Mei would burst through the window with her phone in her, shouting about how he’d been “PRANKED, BOYYYY!” and how this stream was gonna get “A bajillion views!” Or MK would suddenly start talking with Jin or Yin’s accent and accidentally reveal that this whole sleepover was a ruse from the trickster demons.
But that couldn’t make sense. The only person who knew about Red Son having a soulmate at all was…well…was MK.
Well. Red Son huffed, a sardonic smirk curling up his lip. Wasn’t that ironic?
“Red Son? Red Sooon?” MK sighed. “Look, dude, if you’re not gonna pick one, I’m picking for you.”
“Whuh-?” Red Son snapped out of his thoughts only for a small pastry bag to smack him in the face. He fumbled with the bag for a moment before finally grabbing the bun inside.
“You didn’t tell me what you wanted, so I gave you the red bean bun.” MK said, already, taking a bite out of his pineapple bun. “Because, y’know, red bean, Red Son? Figured it fit.” He shrugged.
As Red Son stared down at the red bean bun, MK kept talking. “I don’t have time to properly cook anything–I mean, maybe I could’ve steamed some frozen dumplings, but I figured you’d be all grossed out by frozen food.”
He sat crisscross on his desk chair. “And look, I’ll admit–I got these pasties like, a week ago with Mei, and they’ve been sitting in the back of my fridge since. But they’re still good. I think.”
Admittedly, Red Son wasn’t particularly focused on the quality of his red bean bun as he stared at MK babble. It felt surreal to actually be…in a room with his soulmate. Talking. Red Son had never given Xiaotian a distinct voice in his head. He barely even gave him a face.
To Red Son, Xiaotian had always been hands, covered in ink and paint and lead. He was bright and bubbly letters. He was the art as much as he was the artist. Red Son was aware that could potentially come off as a bit…well…a bit cruel. For a while, that was intentional.
All Red Son had known about Xiaotian was that he was human, and he certainly didn’t want that for himself. So why bother trying to imagine his body? His face? His voice? It would only make the roots in his ribcage twist, make his chest ache. Sure, it was dehumanizing to never give Xiaotian a real face, but that was the point. Red Son didn’t want a human, no matter how often he was reminded that he was bonded to one.
His views had changed, of course. He did…he liked Xiaotian, and the whole human thing mattered less and less with each conversation. But still, Red Son hadn’t ever really tried to picture Xiaotian’s face. It just…hadn’t really occurred to him to do so. Honestly, that was on him, for lacking the initiative to use his imagination.
To be fair though, Red Son had never tried to imagine how his soulmate would look in the first place. It didn’t really matter, did it? They could be tall, short, fat, thin; they could have a face that shined like a celestial or scowled like a monster. That was all irrelevant. What mattered was that their arms were covered in conversation, that their hands were speckled with ink, that they were a companion intertwined with Red Son’s side.
Red Son knew what he wanted though. He had fuzzy images of wide grins, warm hands, wild laughter. And he thought he had finally found that in MK, bond be damned. He didn’t need a soulmate to have a companion intertwined with his side. And the only person Red Son wanted to stay by his side was MK.
The old roots in his chest twisted round his ribcage. It really was ironic.
“Hey, uh…” MK’s had a small frown on his face. “You good there Red Son?” He held out his pastry. “If you want the pineapple bun, it’s fine, you can have it.”
Red Son blinked, coming back to reality before scrunching his nose up in disgust. “You’re not serious, are you? You’re halfway through it.” Red Son pointed at the bite marks in the pineapple bun.
“It’s not that big a deal.” MK waved the bun in Red Son’s face. “I mean, we’ve eaten snacks from the same bag. And we went out for hot pot a while back. This is basically the same thing.”
Oh, wonderful. He was bonded to an idiot.
“That is not the same as eating something you bit into! ” Red Son sputtered.
“Aw, c’mon.” MK made a psh noise as he took a bite out of the bun. “A lil indirect kiss never hurt nobody.”
If Red Son weren’t busy spiraling over MK being his soulmate, he probably would’ve been far more thrown off at the implication behind MK kissing him. He took a bite into the red bean bun, grumbling under his breath.
As MK watched Red Son eat, his brow furrowed in what seemed to be concern. “But, really.” He spoke a bit softer now, lips turned slightly in a small smile. “Are you doing alright? You’ve been kinda quiet.”
“Ah.” Right. This…Red Son should tell him. It was MK’s right to know just as much as it was his. Red Son opened his mouth, taking a deep breath, but stopped himself.
Look. Look. He would tell MK. Really, he would. But his entire world had been flipped on his head. He felt like he’d been hit in the back of the head with this information. Red Son could barely comprehend what he’d just learned, so talking about it right now just seemed like a recipe for even more chaos than there already was. Maybe MK could barrel into battle without a plan, but not Red Son. That’s not how he did things.
He just needed to get himself together. He needed to straighten the thoughts that whizzed around his head, confused and stunned with zero idea on what to do. Red Son needed to recoup and think everything through. He would tell MK everything when everything was a little easier to carry.
So for now, he cleared his throat and straightened his back. “I-” Red Son’s eyes dashed between the sketchbook and the red bean bun in his hands. “I just have a lot on my mind.”
MK hummed disapprovingly as he chewed loudly on his pineapple bun. He looked like he was about to ask Red Son to elaborate so before he could, Red Son sneered. “I’m sure you wouldn’t understand. Not much in your head beyond noodle broth.” He leaned forward to flick MK’s forehead.
“Hey!” MK shouted, cheeks puffed up from pineapple bun chunks and indignation. It was cute, albeit terribly ill mannered to pout with his mouth full.
As Red Son watched MK rub his forehead, something inside of him twisted and ached terribly. He missed the life he had a few hours ago, when the only pain in his chest was pining.
On one hand, it felt like an absurd coincidence.
Really, a billion people in China, and somehow Red Son’s soulmate had been in front of him practically the whole time. The chances of that were near impossible.
Sure, there was plenty of flowery poetry about bonds and fate bringing two souls together, but that wasn’t literal. There wasn’t some cosmic entity knocking demons together. Waiting for some invisible force to bring you to your soulmate was at best hopelessly romantic and at worst plain hopeless.
Demon Bull King and Princess Iron Fan accidently marrying their soulmate was a sweet story, but the actual chances of something like that happening were less than miniscule. Demons didn’t often meet their soulmates on a morning stroll. And with Red Son’s soulmate being a human, the chances were even smaller–every century he swore the human population skyrocketed. They multiplied like rabbits. Or maybe cockroaches.
For Red Son’s soulmate to be someone already in his life was an impossibility. For it to be MK? You couldn’t write a worse punchline.
But, on the other hand, MK being Red Son’s soulmate felt…well…
Look, he’d admit, in retrospect, there were…he wouldn’t say glaring neon signs or anything, but…some cues.
Like, sure, there were a billion people in China, plenty of them were Monkey King fanboys, starving artists were a dime a dozen, and while they weren’t a particularly massive population, MK was by no means the only trans man living in Asia. But looking back, uh, “starving artist with a day job in a hole-in-the-wall noodle shop who juggled a dozen other responsibilities” might have been a bit more of an uncommon phenomena than he judged.
To be fair, Red Son didn’t have a total grasp on modern human societies. As far as he was aware, lots of artists juggled all sorts of jobs! When Xiaotian explained his work to him, he just figured it was the same case.
And okay, yes, maybe when Xiaotian said he was working at his adoptive father’s noodle shop, it should’ve rung a few bells, and maybe when he was bragging about how his dad makes the best zhajiangmian in the world, he should’ve thought that was a little strange, but humans did that, right? Exaggerate the grandiosity of their products to make it slightly more appetizing? Pigsy’s Noodles surely weren’t the world’s longest noodles, and that zhajiangmian surely wasn’t the best in the world, and it made sense for him not to put it together.
Honestly, the way Xiaotian described his dad felt like a dead giveaway now. A grumpy restaurateur who didn’t believe in nepotism with a tough exterior but a (supposedly) gooey inside. And he had a soulmate. Those weren’t exactly common to have.
Not to mention, it explained the seeming contradiction of Xiaotian’s dad having a soulmate while he also had no idea how “demon protocol” worked. Of course MK didn’t know any proper demon customs. His dad was Pigsy, who was at best an anti-traditionalist and at worst just self loathing. And his bond with Tang was by no means a common one, for demons or humans alike. MK had a very unconventional upbringing, in quite a few ways.
Plus, didn’t Xiaotian mention having rich friends? Whenever Red Son suggested borrowing cash from them, Xiaotian would always say he didn’t want to “bother them.” Whatever that meant. It was the same excuse MK gave to Mei when she offered to buy him food, the same one MK gave Red Son back when he insisted on taking him clothes shopping. Sure, on its own having wealthy friends wasn’t a dead giveaway, but combined with everything else? Well…
And on top of that, Xiaotian always drove around in a cart. Not a truck, a cart. And he drove badly. The day Xiaotian had started writing to him while driving was the day the truth should’ve hit Red Son in the back of the head. Truly, only MK would be that stupid.
Red Son was starting to feel a bit like an idiot for not realizing sooner. Really, Xiaotian and MK were quite similar. A sociable artist who spent his evenings drawing and his mornings regretting it. A delivery boy with a no-nonsense father/boss. A trans man who sleeps with his binder on despite his friend yelling at him to get it off–wait, was Red Son the friend who was yelling at him?
Oh, that made this so much more surreal. How many times did MK talk about Red Son to Red Son without knowing? Shit, how many times did Red Son talk about MK to MK? Oh, heavens, he told Xiaotian he was in love. He confessed to MK without even knowing. That realization made him accidentally incinerate a blueprint he’d been working on for a solid two months.
Actually, there were a lot of conversations that really should’ve connected the dots for him.
Like–like the pastels. Xiaotian had mentioned a set of expensive pastels he got as a gift some years back that he was running low on. MK spoke about running out of pastels too–it was why Red Son had bought him a new box.
Sure, Red Son didn’t think much about it at the time–every now and then he’d have to restock on blueprints and technical pens and the like. But maybe both Xiaotion and MK running out of their very expensive pastels they got as a gift given years ago should’ve raised an alarm back there.
And then, of course, there were the monkeys.
Xiaotian had never really explained why he was always around all the monkeys, but he still drew them all the time. Red Son had first theorized his job just involved a lot of monkeys, but that went out the window once he learned he was a delivery boy. Then, he figured it was just that his location was fairly close to some sort of zoo or jungle, only to learn that Xiaotian lived in a sprawling city, delivering noodles and drawing in his spare time.
The monkeys, for the longest time, had been an itch in the back of Red Son’s head that he couldn’t quite scratch whenever he saw them grinning on his forearms. But then one day, when hanging out with MK and Mei, MK pulled out his phone to show Mei some “cute picture of a monkey” he got during training and it hit him.
He’s the Monkie Kid. He trains on Flower Fruit Mountain. The mountain full of monkeys.
Mei and MK had to spend twenty minutes apologizing to the poor restaurant owner whose booth suddenly set on fire.
The owner, luckily, was a big Monkie Kid fan, and insisted the only way he wouldn’t ban the three of them was if MK took pictures with everyone in his family. So as MK set up for an impromptu photo-op Mei pushed Red Son out the door.
The moment they were outside, Mei punched his arm. Hard. He shouted in pain as she hissed under her teeth. “Dude, what the hey?! That’s like, one of my favorite places to eat!”
“Their food was mediocre anyways.” Red Son barked back.
Mei narrowed her eyes at Red Son, clearly unamused. “Insult this place again, and I’m gonna kick your teeth in.” She jabbed her finger into his chest.
Mei crossed her arms, stepping back from Red Son now. “I thought you were in control of your powers. It’s kind of the whole reason you were my teacher that one time.”
“I was your teacher because no one else in the world could understand the Samadhi Fire but me.” Red Son pointed out. “And I can control my powers just fine. Today, I just…”
Red Son bit his lip, looking down at his feet. Mei’s brow knit into a frown. “You what?”
He kicked a pebble on the curb, unsure of how exactly to explain this to Mei. MK said he hadn’t told anyone about his soulmate but him. And even though this was Red Son’s secret, it was MK’s too. If Mei didn’t know about MK’s soulmate, then it wouldn’t be right for her to know about Red Son’s. At least, that’s how he figured it in his head.
It’d be nice to talk to her about this, of course. Mei was shockingly good at being a voice of reason, and he needed a bit of reason in his life right now. But there was a chance telling Mei would blow up in his face, and he really, really didn’t want to take that chance.
But now, Mei was staring at him, her expression flickering between irritation and concern. Red Son had been staring down at his feet, completely quiet. Mei was good at looking through people’s facades–she knew Red Son loved MK before he did. Even if he lied to her, she would see through it in a heartbeat. And, well, he had a feeling that wouldn’t end well.
Before Red Son could come up with a lie though, MK bounded out the door with a grin. “We’re not banned!”
Thankfully, Mei immediately dropped the subject at the good news. She cheered, dragging MK and Red Son together into a bone-crushing group hug. Red Son must have let out some sort of involuntary noise, because MK started to laugh, smile stretched out into a grin so wide it hurt. Red Son couldn’t help but watch MK, eyes squeezed shut as he leaned his head against Mei’s shoulder to support himself.
The last time Red Son had seen MK laugh that hard was when he got him that claw clip. Red Son had mentioned he preferred peonies, and MK laughed so much he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t understand what was so funny about peonies back then. But in retrospect, maybe he should’ve asked why.
Frankly, this was all MK’s fault.
Well, “fault” was a strong word, it implied that he did something wrong. And he didn’t. But really, he could’ve cleared up his identity immediately if he just said he was the Monkie Kid.
It wasn’t like he was keeping his identity a secret or anything. When walking down the street, plenty of passer-bys would ask MK for a selfie. People would come into Pigsy’s just to hand him fan mail. Every other nainai in Megapolis would pinch his cheek and call him a nice young man . He was the face of a lipstick ad.
All MK would have to write was go Hey bud! How’s your day been? I just stopped Yin and Jin from putting thirteen thousand ramen flavor packets in the city’s water supply. Or I hope you’re okay right now, I’m off to fight the Spider Queen, or, y’know the whole ‘Lady Bone Demon’ thing that put a stop to the drawings? Well, fun fact: I defeated her! Isn’t that neat?!
If MK had just said he was the Monkie Kid from the get-go, Red Son wouldn’t have had to deal with…with all this. Or at the very least he wouldn’t have to deal with it as soon. At least, that was what he thought for a day or two.
But then one evening, right when he was finally dozing off to sleep, when he suddenly shot up in his bed.
That night that MK and Red Son fought about soulmates. Didn’t MK say he told him about being the Monkie Kid?
But-but that didn’t make any sense. Red Son would’ve seen it. Even back in the early days when he largely ignored what his soulmate said, he would’ve recognized Monkie Kid written somewhere on his thigh at some point, wouldn’t he?
When did MK say he mentioned it? He said it was only once, right? When–When–
“After I defeated your dad for the first time, I wrote all about it. But, like everything else, they didn’t reply.”
There was no way. He told him that early?
Red Son got out of his bed and began to pace back and forth now. That was impossible. Impossible. Red Son would have absolutely recognized if his soulmate had confessed to being the Monkie Kid because the Monkie Kid was all he was focused on at the time. There was no way he could’ve ignored something as blatantly obvious as that, right? Right?
…Right?
Red Son stopped his pacing. An old, fuzzy memory was coming back to him now, from the night his father was defeated. He was crouched over his desk in the corner of his workshop, body still aching from the pain of getting run over by that jet-car-thing MK had flown in on out of the blue.
Even though it probably would’ve been wiser to go to bed and let his wounds heal, he rolled out a blueprint to draft a new contraption to defeat the Monkie Kid anyway, ignoring the bruises on his face and the chip on his tooth that cut his tongue and whatever scribble his soulmate was talking about underneath his bandaged arms–
Guanyin, goddess of mercy, alleviate his- oh at this point, it was safe to assume Guanyin wasn't looking out for Red Son.
Red Son remembered thinking that his soulmate was writing about how the Monkie Kid saved the world, but he didn’t think his soulmate was telling him that he, the Monkie Kid, had just saved the fucking world. If he had pulled off his bandages, he could’ve known so much sooner.
Actually now that he thought about it, there wasn't the only time Red Son could’ve figured out MK was his soulmate. He only knew about the peonies because he’d seen the post-it note sticking out of MK’s old sketchbook. If he actually bothered to open it up, he would’ve seen his art. Sure, Red Son hadn’t been staring at it for over a year, but he was familiar enough with the art style that he would’ve pieced it together quickly.
This whole time, he could’ve known who his soulmate was if he’d just…peeled off a bandage. Opened a book.
That night, Red Son didn’t get much sleep. He spent the evening pacing around his room or lying in his bed, head spiraling into other worlds where he actually bothered to pay the slightest bit of attention to the happenings around him. Was he just that dense? That oblivious? No wonder he was bonded with MK–he might be more of an idiot than he is.
He didn’t speak much during breakfast, both physically and emotionally exhausted from his sleepless night. And he didn’t speak much later that day during lunch with MK. MK wanted to buy some jianbing during his break and he brought Red Son along. Despite all the chaos, Red Son was actually looking forward to spending time with MK, as he always did. But he was so exhausted he could barely enjoy it. At one point, he almost walked into traffic–he was so tired, he was doing an MK move.
“You know, I don’t wanna be that guy, but for someone who’s always talking about my sleep schedule, you kiiinda look like you’re about to melt onto the sidewalk.” MK raised his eyebrows a bit, shouldering Red Son as they walked back to Pigsy’s.
“Stop talking, Noodle Boy.” Red Son grumbled.
MK laughed, thankfully changing the subject. “Do you have a new project?” He asked, taking a bite of his jianbing. “Oooh, is it some super smart genius stuff?”
Red Son looked down as MK as they turned the corner. Xiaotian had mentioned having a genius friend, didn’t he? He supposed that Xiaotian was talking to Red Son about himself by accident. The logistics were still a bit confusing, but that was probably because Red Son was fully prepared to curl up on the street for a power nap.
“No.” Red Son sighed as they finally reached Pigsy’s. He tilted his head up, eyes, squinting so the glaring sun didn’t blind him. “I just have things on my mi–”
Red Son’s words left his throat when his eyes landed on the sign in front of Pigsy’s Noodles. He’d seen the logo plenty of times before–on plastic bags, posters, the works. There was a big neon sign for Pigsy’s Noodles inside the shop and outside too. But he’d never really looked at it before. Or, rather, he didn’t focus on how the logo looked.
A grinning, cartoon pig, holding a bowl of noodles.
Xiaotian didn’t always draw that stylized, but every now and then, Red Son would notice a bored doodle of a pig with a toothy smile. He found the drawings cute–not as grand as some of his other masterpieces, but still art in their own right. But he had assumed it was just that. A pig. Maybe even a silly rendition of Zhu Bajie. But…but…
In the top left hand corner of the grinning pig sign was a signature. MK. It was undeniably his art, just as much as it was undeniably his soulmate’s.
“You drew this logo?” Red Son murmured so softly he thought MK wouldn’t hear it, but he did.
“Oh. Uh. Yeah. I guess it was my first commission, technically.” MK looked up at it. “Pigsy paid me and everything. I’m really proud of it.”
How hadn’t he noticed that? He had sent bull clones to spy on this dump for what? Months? And he never picked up that MK drew this. Shit, he hadn’t even looked at the logo long enough to pin together it was his soulmate’s artstyle.
Red Son had spent nearly a year loitering around Pigsy’s Noodles, waiting for MK to end his shift, eating dan dan noodles in the booth seats, fixing that miserable pile of metal that calls itself a cart, and all he had to do to find his soulmate was look up? The glaring neon signs showing Red Son the truth were supposed to be rhetorical.
“Yknow, if you need to take a nap, you totally can.” MK said. “My room’s a bit of a mess, but you’re used to that, so-”
“I’m going to melt it.” Red Son murmured.
MK blinked, confused. “You’re gonna what-”
Red Son took the last bite of his jianbing before incinerating the wrapper. “I’m going to melt that sign.”
A ball of fire sparked in Red Son’s hand.
It took a solid ten minutes of MK trying to pin Red Son down before he finally gave up on burning down Pigsy’s Noodles and everybody in it. MK was lucky Red Son was so tired.
Red Son did agree to take MK up on that nap. He had to promise not to melt the sign while MK was at work, but he was so exhausted he forgot to do so the moment his head hit the pillow.
When MK came home from his shift, Red Son was still there, laying on the bed and staring at the ceiling. He turned on the light and Red Son groaned, draping his forearm over his face. MK ignored it.
“You’re not the first demon who tried to destroy that sign.” MK said, taking his jacket off and throwing it on his desk chair. “Some of the Spider Queen’s little robot guys took the sign off and snuck it into the sewers.”
Wonderful. Red Son thought to himself. His outburst wasn’t even original.
“I had to go get it back. It was, uh, not the best.” MK admitted. “The Spider Queen was rebuilding her mech, and I destroyed it because I thought she wanted to take over again. But, turns out she wanted to fight the Lady Bone Demon, and…well…”
MK’s words faded away. He was quiet for a beat before finally speaking up again. “Sorry I’m being a bummer.” Red Son heard the sound of the fridge opening and MK yawning. “Maybe I didn’t get much sleep either.”
Red Son rolled over on his side to look at MK, who was pouring two cups of water at the counter. He still had a smile on his face, but it was small. Quiet. Maybe even reverent, as he put the pitcher back in the fridge. Red Son couldn’t imagine what MK had experienced down in the sewers looking for Pigsy’s sign. He certainly couldn’t imagine how MK was still smiling while thinking about it.
Maybe that was the real reason why he couldn’t wrap his head around it. The real reason that all the figurative and literal glaring neon signs soared straight past Red Son’s head. A soulmate was supposed to be your equal. The bond was supposed to symbolize your strength–not just as union, but within yourself as well. But MK…MK was…
Well he was stronger, obviously. MK had sent Red Son running away with his tail between his legs more than he’d like to admit. He'd defeated demon and after demon. He could lift the Monkey King's staff-it took Red Son ages to finally make a gauntlet powerful enough to do that, and he picked it up by complete accident.
But it wasn't just that, really. MK was everything.
MK was strong, and passionate, and charismatic, and a lot smarter than people gave him credit for–even Red Son. He was a natural leader, a natural hero. He was always there to lend a helping hand, charitable to a fault. And he was loving. So, so loving.
How on earth could someone like that be bonded to Red Son?
MK sat down at his desk, facing Red Son. He held out one of the cups of water to him. Red Son sat up and took it, taking a quiet sip.
“Fighting the Spider Queen was a challenge.” He recalled. “I’m sure she gave the Lady Bone Demon a difficult time.”
MK hummed at that, looking down at his water. “I think about her more than I want to.”
“The Spider Queen?” Red Son raised an eyebrow.
“No. I mean, yeah, sometimes I have nightmares that she spun me up in her web to eat me, but-that’s not who I mean.” MK shook his head. “I’m talking about…” MK’s smile flickered now as he stared down at his cup.
Ah. Her. Red Son sighed as he moved closer to MK. He could understand that. Even though the Lady Bone Demon had been dead for months now, the world still wasn’t quite done stitching up the fractures that had run across the countryside. It was the same for MK, even if he didn’t talk about it much. He wondered how many other wounds MK had yet to stitch up.
“Well, if it’s any comfort, I think about her too.” Red Son said.
“Really?” MK looked up.
Red Son barked out a laugh. “Please. How could I not? The only reason she possessed my father and nearly destroyed the world is because I stole that key from you.”
“I mean, to be fair, that’s kind of on me.” MK leaned against the back of the chair. When Red Son shot him a look, he held up in free hand in defense. “I’m just saying, I definitely could’ve done a better job fighting your mom.”
“Please. You might have gotten the best of the Lady Bone Demon, but you could never defeat my mother.” Red Son snorted.
“But really! If I’d–I dunno. Stopped you from stealing the key, or returned the Trigram furnace sooner, or-or-or done something different, she wouldn’t have…I dunno.” MK leaned over the chair now, back hunched. “I just keep thinking about all the things I could’ve done to stop it.”
Red Son frowned as he looked at MK. It was rare for MK to open up without prodding. Maybe he really hadn’t slept all that well. Red Son wondered if he should get MK a nicer pillow. Or maybe try to convince Mei to bring him back home from portying a little earlier.
“Even if you’d never done those things, I doubt that would’ve stopped her from coming back.” Red Son leaned over the bed to get closer to MK. “She and her little thrall were rather eager to enact their plans of world obliteration.”
His voice had softened in some attempt to be comforting. It was never his strong suit, but for MK, he’d try.
“You defeated her, didn’t you? If you weren’t around, she’d probably find some other peasant to bring her to power. And once she did that, then there’d be no hope left.” Red Son murmured. “The world would have fallen to her putridity if it weren’t for you.”
“And you.” MK pointed out. “Mei would’ve never learned how to harness the Samadhi Fire–”
“Yes, I’m aware that you dragged me along to join you in your heroics.” Red Son groaned. “But we’re not talking about my accomplishments. No matter how noble or praiseworthy they are.”
MK snorted into his cup.
“We’re talking about you.” Red Son said. “The only reason I, or anyone else in your little crew, are heroes is because you’re one. And the only reason we stood a chance defeating the Lady Bone Demon is because you believed we could do it. Maybe you should focus less on your supposed failures and more on your actual victories.”
MK looked up at Red Son, a small smile curling on his face. “You literally do that all the time.”
“Once again, we’re not talking about me, Noodle Boy.” Red Son chided him. “We’re talking about you. And you are a hero. With a revoltingly good track record.”
“Now come on.” Red Son gave the tuft of MK’s hair that hung over his bandana a soft swat. “Spending all day thinking about what could have happened is only going to stir fry your noodle brain even more.”
Red Son leaned to the side to put his cup on MK’s desk before laying back down on the bed. He was about to shut his eyes to nap again when MK moved his chair a bit closer to the bed, cupping his face as he propped his elbows on his lap.
“You are praiseworthy.” MK said, a small, lopsided smile on his face. “Even though you’ve made some mistakes, you really are. I’d talk about you all day if I could.”
The air in MK’s apartment shot up a solid twelve degrees. Red Son was honestly surprised he didn’t smell smoke–surely, the ends of his hair were sparking over that. His lip twitched as he stared at MK, the roots in his chest twist around his lungs and heart. He still couldn’t fully understand how easily MK could shower him with praise. He always had a good word for Red Son, even back when they were just enemies with a bigger enemy. It made Red Son's heart twist in his chest. It made the back of his eyes prick.
MK was looking over at Red Son with that warm, overwhelming, loving smile. He was close enough that Red Son could catch all the little details of his face–each freckle, each acne scar, each eyelash that clung to his cheek. And of course, those pretty brown eyes, that could take all the light in the cosmos and melt them. A little heaven.
Red Son had never really imagined what his soulmate looked like or how they acted, but truthfully, he couldn’t imagine anyone like MK. At least, not for himself.
Red Son turned over in the bed to face the window only for MK to cry out in protest. “Nooo! Turn back around! I wanted to draw you like that.”
“You wanted to what? ” Red Son turned his head to see MK grab his sketchbook.
“You looked all relaxed, and your hair was spread out all across the pillow, and the light from the ceiling was catching in your eyes in a way that was–was–" MK fumbled over his words before slumping over. "Look, just, move back. Please?”
MK gave Red Son what he’d been told by Mei was “puppy dog eyes.” Such an underhanded tactic would never work on him of course. MK was just lucky that Red Son loved him so much.
He turned around in the bed, sighing. His eyes wandered over to MK, dutifully drawing in his sketchbook, tongue sticking out of his mouth in concentration. It was weird to see MK drawing now that he knew who he was. It was strange knowing all of MK’s favorite techniques to shade, or color, or keep the other eye symmetrical on a face. He somehow felt both closer to MK than ever and far, far away.
MK glanced up at Red Son for a moment when he paused. “Do you draw?” He asked.
“No.” Red Son replied.
“Really? Not at all?” MK shoved his hand in his box of crayons, searching for a new color.
Red Son thought for a moment before shrugging. “I doodle. If I’m exceptionally unfocused.”
MK smiled. “Well, you should show me your doodles sometime.”
Red Son hummed, watching MK pick out a red crayon and put his brown one away.
“One day. Eventually.” he muttered, trying to keep his lips still to not mess up the reference. “I promise I’ll show you everything.”