Cure Ely!

Sure, MK can be a bit impulsive and careless, but he's the funniest and kindest person you've met. Besides, they've graced you by letting you sleep in; normally, MK would send a text in the dead of night. These spontaneous messages are at random and without warning. And, slowly, they're growing on you.

Today, however, MK spared your sleep schedule by texting you at 2 p.m., the perfect time to do so.

You eagerly make your way downtown, through the tall city buildings of Megapolis.

What could MK be planning?

When you get to their place (Pigsy's Noodles), your question is somewhat answered. It seems as though your friend already has company over. Could you have arrived too soon?

You pull out your phone.

[Hey, I'm here.]

A few seconds pass.

BANG!

The back door at the top of the stairs flies open and you quickly look up. MK's grinning face beams down at you as he grips the hand-railing.

"Yo!"

"Hey!" You return, offering a wave from down below. "Can I come up?"

The Monkie Kid shakes his head. "Ah- no. Actually, we're doing the baking competition downstairs in the dining area. Everyone's waiting for you! I'm just up here for a few extra supplies," he calls, gesturing all around for emphasis.

Baking competition? Oh, goodness.

"There's more people?"

"Yeah!" MK says, looking positively ecstatic. With that, he departs to his room, calling, "Go say 'hi'!"

Huh.

You stare upwards for a few more moments, then deciding that MK isn't planning on reappearing. So with a calculated huff, you narrow your eyes on the entrance to Pigsy's Noodles.

Who else could be here?

Curiosity get's the better of you. Reaching out, you push past the rolling sheet door and into Pigsy's Noodles. Funny, only now do you notice the conversations filling the room, and your eyes flick wide open at the sight to behold.

It looks like everyone is here. Mei, Pigsy, Tang, Sandy - even the Monkey King, Redson, and Prince Nezha.

You find yourself staring, lips parted.

The Third Lotus Prince glances over, eyes sharp and calculating. You quickly avert your eyes as MK bounds down the stairs in front of everyone.

"OK, gang! Is everyone here?" He performs a quick headcount as you travel further indoors. Mei and Sandy greet you accordingly, to which you return with a wave. Pigsy seems too distracted in making sure MK doesn't trip and fall off the counter he's currently strutting down, while Tang's occupied with leftover noodles. Redson is busy acting unbothered while inspecting his (probably) hand-carved pocket knife.

The Monkey King is doing, well, you don't really know.

Looks a 'lil something like making himself seem as epic as possible while doing absolutely nothing.

Nezha, on the other hand, shoots Sun Wukong an occasional glare, as though peeved by something outside your knowledge.

"Hey," you say, sidling up to the lotus Prince. "What's up?"

His glare is suddenly directed your way, and you almost wither under the ferocity within his dark eyes. You're amazed at Wukong's superpower to ignore such a look.

Thankfully, Nezha's features soften. "Just . . . entertaining my charge."

"MK's your charge?"

"More or less. They've grown on me, as much as I hate to admit it," Nezha says, but the sigh he gives informs you that his words are lies. No sane person would ever hate MK's company. The lotus Prince must feel some kind of urge to protect them.

You smile, but Sun Wukong beats you to it. "D'awww, is my apprentice growing on you? That's cute."

"He's not your apprentice anymore," Nexha spits.

He looks away when MK straightens and calls for attention. "All right, guys! I've invited you all here for a baking competition! So we're all gonna split into teams of two - I will be the judge to even things out. Anyways, Pigsy agreed to provide ingredients-" Said pig huffs irritably.

"Against my better judgement."

"Riiiight. You just wanna show off your skills," MK says, grinning knowingly. With that, he whips out a clear bowl with small slips of paper filling the bottom. "OK! Who wants to pick a teammate first?"

Sandy's massive hand shoots up. The bowl is practically thrown to him, but he catches it easily and fingers out a paper slip.

"Uhhh . . . The Monkey King?"

Sun Wukong's head shoots up. "Aaaye, nice! What're we baking?"

"Whatever you want, Monkey King" MK says, going around to everyone in turn. Mei with Redson, Tang with Pigsy, and since MK will be judging, that leaves just you and Nezha.

Slowly, you turn to gaze at him. "So. I guess we're-"

"I request a refund," he scoffs instantly, going to tap MK's shoulder. The kid whips around, eyes wide, to watch the exchange of comments. "I'd much rather pair up with another instead of you. I've seen the products of your baking, (Y/N)."

"Wha-" Affronted, albeit smiling, you cross your arms over your chest. "I'm not that bad."

"You are."

MK butts in while everyone else departs to their assigned tables. Apparently, you and Nexha aren't the only pair experiencing difficulties. Redson is infuriated with having Mei as his partner, hair and eyes ablaze.

"Guys, chill," the Monkie Kid says, thoroughly amused. "It's not that bad! Besides, there's no backsies on this; whatever you bake, you gotta do it together, or else I take five points off your original score."

You blink. The teams will be judged in this fashion?

Nezha tosses his head, his black fluffy hair bouncing in place. "I, the Third Lotus Prince, will not be paired up with some inexperienced troublemaker who will most certainly cost me a solid victory!"

"Wow, prepared that just now, huh? I'm honored," you say, momentarily distracted by the Prince's lackluster demeanor. Interesting.

Despite his comments, you feel that he doesn't truly despise working with you.

It makes you grin wickedly. "All right, lover boy. Let's get cracking."

"L-Lover boy??" Nezha stutters, but you've already hooked your arm through his and dragged him over to your assigned table.

~~~

"You're doing it wrong."

"I am not."

Nezha snorts, casually - yet gently - taking the measuring cup from you. "The instructions directed to add half a cup of oil to the mix. You tried adding a full cup."

Your eyebrows skyrocket. "What's wrong with going off script?"

He simply gives you a look, like 'oh, woe is this pitiful human standing before me.' But his exasperated eyes are fond. It just makes you smile and nudge him affectionately. Sure, Nezha can be a pain and a wall of unbreakable stone - plus the infinite cold shoulders if you do him wrong -, but you really do like him. He and you are actually really close.

He's kind of adorable.

The lotus Prince suddenly hands the measuring glass back to you, and your smile fades.

"Wha- I thought you wanted to do it."

"You might as well finish the job," Nexha says calmly. "Don't worry, I'll be watching in case you make anymore mistakes. Sound fair enough?"

You frown deeply, taking the cup. ". . . You're mocking me."

"No, I promise I'm not," he returns, but the amusement in his eyes says otherwise.

"You're supposed to be stressed and angry and controlling, y'know," you venture, pouring some oil into the glass cup. Peering at it closely, you continue; "Aren't I making you nervous?"

At this, Nezha tilts his head and smiles. "Not in the slightest. I've come to terms with having you as my partner. Might as well deal with it rather than complain."

"Smart words, lover boy."

His look sharpens, but he makes no comment. Instead, he scoffs, walks off, and returns with his arms full of ingredients. You look up after pouring the oil, eyes wide and glittering with approval as he lays everything out.

"Oh, perfect!"

You raise your hand, and Nezha, after glancing at it, instinctively gives you a high-five.

Oh.

Honestly, you don't know what you were expecting.

He's smiling, though, unaware of your shit-eating grin as he picks up the bag of flour.

"All right," he says, eyes narrowing at the bag. "How much flour do we need?"

"Uh . . . 3 cups," you say, after peering at the instructions.

The Third Lotus Prince nods determinedly, grabbing the measuring cup. "Here, you hold on to this," he says, handing you the flour. With that, he heads off. "I'm going to wash this so we can use it."

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

He glances over his shoulder, fluffy black hair brushing his cheek. "Hmm?"

You set the flour bag down to spread your arms. "Hug."

"Wha-"

"Why not? Aren't we friends?" You jest, but you're not really joking. The Prince would usually give you a warm embrace whenever he'd visit, and this should count. Perhaps he was distracted with the Monkey King's presence? Said deity is currently producing a beautiful batch of brownies with Sandy.

Nezha blinks, then rolls his eyes. "All right, get over here." With that, he holds his arms out, and you eagerly fall into them.

You grin up at him, safe and warm within his embrace. "Thaaaanks."

"You're welcome."

He's quick to walk off, but you feel it's to hide his smile. When he returns, you're wearing a shit eating grin. With the flour bag in hand, you make sure Nezha's got the measuring cup cleaned and dried before pouring some. Or, well, you would pour some.

Unfortunately, you trip on thin air.

The lack of footing makes you yelp as you fall forward, hands flying out to stabilize yourself. And that is where your fatal mistake comes into play; you'd already opened the flour bag in preparation to pour into the measuring cup. Two seconds after you trip, you're blinded with white powder - and so is the person in front of you.

Nezha stumbles backwards, managing to catch both the bag of flour while also still holding the glass cup.

You blink, patting your face free of flour. Damnit.

Hands still outstretched with the ghost of the flour package, you stare.

The lotus Prince blinks once, nose wrinkling all of the sudden. He then lets out a loud, flour-filled sneeze before recovering. His eyes are wide, astounded by what had just happened.

HA.

"What'd you do?" Pigsy calls.

MK shushes him, grinning. "Shh, they're creating a masterpiece."

Honestly, the sight is utterly hilarious. Nezha is covered head-to-toe in white powder, even coughing some of it out. The incident attracts a lot of attention (MK and Mei letting out a huge burst of laughter), and you feel the amused gazes of your friends as you slowly walk up to Nezha and take the flour bag from his frozen hand.

"Uh . . . sorry."

His eyes fix on you. "This means war."

"What?!"

There's no mistaking it; Nezha is dead serious. You have zero time to react as he snatches up an egg - which turns into a blur as it collides with your temple.

Yelping, you cower back, arms going out defensively. "Noho! Stop! I'm sorry!"

"Ohmygod-" Mei gasps-

"FOOD FIGHT!" MK suddenly bellows, and the room goes quiet. So quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Everyone shares a glance.

Mei is the first to act, grabbing an entire jug of milk, unscrewing the lid, and pouring its contents right over her poor, unsuspecting partner. Redson flinches away, eyes wide at the assault, before going in for the kill. "How- dare you!"

"Catch me if you can!" Mei teases.

And that's when all hell breaks loose. Food is rushing in all directions; Pigsy is calling for order, Tang is hiding under the counter; Sandy is acting as a shield for the Monkey King. You're vaguely aware of Sun Wukong yeeting eggs at anything that moves before Nezha suddenly flips your table on it's side in one swift movement, tugging you to the floor.

Everything you've worked so hard on is suddenly at one with the ground.

"B-But the competition-"

"You really think that matters now?" Nezha snorts, peeking over the table. He quickly ducks when an egg whizzes past his head. Getting down on your level, he sighs. "Damnit. I have no control over this."

Hhhhh.

You manage a guilty smile. "This is totally my fault."

"Oh, it is. And you will definitely pay for it when we're done here," Nezha growls over the battle cries of your friends.

"Pfft, right. I'm so scared."

~~~

Finally.

The chaos does ebb away eventually. But the noodle shop isn't in great condition when order is secured. There's a burning hole in the wall that's most likely the result of Redson attempting to headshot Mei. Sun Wukong and Nezha eventually duked it out in the center, while you'd joined Tang under the counter to cower.

Luckily, everyone listened when MK called for peace.

So now, everyone's sitting outside on the sidewalk, plates in hand with various desserts piled on top.

You and Nezha had scraped together a half-assed dessert at the last minute, and luckily the oven decided to spare your souls and produce something edible.

Everyones' creations are actually really good. Tasty, like sweet or sugary, or cold and minty.

You savor the flavor of Pigsy's dish (obviously the best, to which MK boasted about), smiling fondly at Nezha. Currently, you're sitting shoulder to shoulder, with Sandy on your other side. As the others chat happily, you nudge your friend's shoulder. "So, tell me. Are you proud of us?"

"I'm proud of my endurance," Nezha ventures.

You smirk. "Ah, you're a scream."

"You think I'm joking? If you had to put up with yourself, you'd quit," he fires back. But, after a moment, taps his chin. "Our batch is pretty good, though."

"See? I'm a baking genius," you hum, finishing your desserts.

Nezha's eyes are fond as you stand up, brushing yourself off. It doesn't do much for the residue baking ingredients stuck to your outfit, but you do your best. Then, you face the group and salute. "All right, guys. Imma go get cleaned up."

MK's head snaps up. "Oh! You're going already?"

"Well, look at me!"

When MK snorts in reply, Nezha locks eyes with you and frowns. "Are you going home?"

You nod, hands in pockets. There are things you have to take care of back at your place, anyways. Too bad you won't have anyone to keep you company-

Wait.

Well, you do have a bunch of potential companions.

Blinking slowly, you tilt your head at Nezha. "Hey . . . you wanna come with me? I know you don't plan to do much else here, considering MK's taking everyone who wants to go to the arcade. Redson is going home, Pigsy needs to clean up . . . and Wukong will be with MK. I'm sure you wanna steer clear of him."

"How do you . . ?" Nezha wonders, albeit smiling absently. He slowly stands up as you reword your invitation.

"Speculation. A-Anyways. Maybe we could give this baking thing a second go at my place? After I finish my to-do list, that is," you amend, eyes low.

The lotus Prince lets out a long hum. "Well, I don't have anything to do today."

". . . Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. You want to leave now?"

Swallowing and fighting the butterflies, you nod quickly. Turning to MK, you snap your fingers. "OI! MK!" The kid glances over. "Nezha and I are going to my place. Thanks for the desserts!"

"Did I make them?? No," MK puffs, rolling his eyes. "Aight. Have fun!"

You smile, heading off.

The lotus Prince catches up with you in no time, and the two of you walk down the street for a second.

Tentatively, as if nervous of rejection, your let your hand brush Nezha's. You bite your lip to fight a smile when his long, slender fingers slip through yours and lace together. What a sweetheart.

Glancing up at him, you meet his relaxed, small smile. "Thanks."

"What, you scared to cross the street or something?"

A dull sigh escapes you, hands absently fisting the blankets beneath you. No, you never do 'nothing'. At some point, you just sit and cry and pray for happiness because that's all you can do. You've tried so, so many ways to achieve such a rare sensation, but none of them work. Wishing won't work, either.

Today, you're just a screw-up. A person who's realized all their mistakes and past deeds all at once. And it's awful.

The phone has rung a few times by now, but you find it easier to ignore than to answer.

How could you possibly explain yourself?

There's too many fucking reasons for how utterly sad you feel.

You might as well let everyone know you intend not to exist until the feeling passes.

MMM. MMM.

Oh.

Now that was a text message. You see no harm in reading it, so you cast out am arm to retrieve your phone. Frowning softly, you peer at the little bubble of text.

[Training today! Don't be late!]

Your eyes fly wide open, breath hitching as it hits you. Today can't be reserved for 'nothing' after all; you, MK, and Redson are scheduled to train in the bull demon's training grounds. He calls it his backyard, but MK and you have both speculated that a normal backyard doesn't consist of equipment such as metal spikes, booby traps, and the like.

Panic creeps up on you. There's no way to avoid this, unless you want to lie.

Which you don't.

Fuck.

~~~

"Oh, good, you made it," Redson huffs, regarding you through narrowed eyes as you cross the threshold.

You offer a forced smile and wave. "Wouldn't miss training for the world."

"(Y/N)!"

MK takes precisely two seconds until he's at your side, hand in the air. You give him an instinctive high-five, wincing slightly at the contact. Today's just not your day. Or week, for that matter.

"All right, you two," Redson says irritably, grabbing a sharp spear and twirling it between his fingers. After grabbing two more, he walks over and tosses them to both you and MK. "Today we'll be training with spears. This kind of fighting style will help strengthen your balance, reaction time, and the ability to calculate your opponent's moves before they even execute them."

The Monkie Kid's eyes are on the spear he'd caught. You'd fumbled for yours, eventually dropping it.

Oh, well.

"But . . . these are real spears," MK points out, slightly nervous.

The bull demon snorts. "So??"

"We can't fight with actual weapons! What if we hurt each other? What if you accidentally stab someone?" MK says, pointing an accusatory finger at the demon.

Redson rolls his eyes, tossing his spear into the air. With a graceful tuck-and-roll, he emerges in front of you two standing straight, one hand held out. The spear thumps perfectly in his hand, and with one eyebrow raised, he regards you both skeptically.

"What if I stab someone? Please." His red eyes are suddenly full of mirth. "I am too skilled. You two, however . . ."

He leaves the rest to be determined.

You swallow nervously. There's no way you'll be able to perform your best today; you haven't eaten a thing, your thoughts keep pounding you with relentless insults, and . . .

Something whizzes straight past your ear, inches form the real thing.

Eyes flying wide open, you stumble back, panic seizing your chest. When you find your footing and straighten, you find Redson's spear directed at your heart, the tip resting gently against the protective pad there.

You'd been too late.

"Hmm. You're much slower than usual, (Y/N)," Redson comments, retracting the spear. Tilting his head, he regard you quizzically. "Have you been training outside of schedule?"

Oh.

Oh no.

You can't have him know, have him unable to help you, then feel guilty afterwards.

So you quickly shake your head, heart still racing from the fact that Redson could've easily killed you had you not been so close. With an apologetic glance at both Redson and MK, you say, "Sorry! N-No, I was just . . . just thinking. I got distracted. It won't happen again. Sorry. D-Do we start now, or . .?"

Redson nods, regarding you irritably. "Yes. You and MK will team up against me."

"Cool beans!" MK says, smiling once again.

He strides over to you, spear at the ready. "Hey . . . you good?" He murmurs, features slightly concerned. "Did Red Boy scare you?"

Mouth quite dry, you try and get a good grip on the spear. Your hands are shaking. "Y-Yeah. Sorry."

"You okay?"

"I'm fine, thanks."

He seems to think better than to question you. Besides, you give him a faint smile, albeit fake, but it reassures your friend. So you both face Redson, weapons poised to defend. The bull demon snorts, as if amused you'd even try to stand up against him. But this is training.

In a blur of movement, Redson is suddenly at MK's side, grinning triumphantly. His spear jerks upwards, but MK propels himself into the air via magic staff.

"Yo! Careful, you almost stabbed me!"

"Isn't that the point?" Redson huffs, glaring at the kid. "And no magic!"

"It's a staff, not magic!"

"I, Redson, will not be mocked by a fool such as you!"

MK sticks his tongue out. "I'd like to see you stop me, baby bull demon!"

Redson growls as MK comes back to Earth, twirling his spear before jutting it at MK's leg. The kid adjusts his weight perfectly so that the spear misses his leg, which is raised to dislodge his opponent's weapon.

Unfortunately, the bull demon is much too experienced to fall for such an attempt. He blocks the blow with one hand, using his elbow to set MK off balance, swiping his legs to trip the poor kid.

"H-Hey!"

MK falls on his rear, but not before rolling to the side when Redson strikes again.

You falter, watching them duke it out.

Normally, you'd be laughing, or cheering MK on. But the pride you should be feeling is absent, replaced with guilt. With self-loathing.

You could never do what MK does.

Useless-

Eventually, MK uses his staff again, and he's immediately disqualified. As prophecies, he throws a fit. "It was an accident!"

"It's technically cheating," Redson says impatiently, panting slightly with adrenaline.

"You're just jealous."

The bull demon merely scoffs, looking utterly fed up with MK's bullshit. If you'd been feeling better, you would've found the exchange thoroughly amusing. But a second later, Redson turns his attention to you, eyes wide as he searches for a way past your defenses.

Which, as he realizes in a moment, you have none.

"Uh-" You fumble for a better grip on your spear, but it's too late. Redson darts to one side, then to another, and then he's leaping in the air with the spear raised to strike.

Your heart promptly stops.

Blood running ice cold, you throw your hands up to shield your face, screaming. "STOP!"

. . .

Positively trembling, you gasp for a few breaths, cracking your eyes open. You hear Redson's quick breathing close by, which makes you realize you're not dead. He'd refrained from gutting you - and even if you hadn't yelled out, he wouldn't have added you to his body count, anyways.

Fuck.

You'd failed.

Had Redson been a real enemy, you would've died.

It was just your panic. Just you.

Quickly, you drop your arms and meet Redson's eyes. They're full of concern. However, he seems to assume your previous actions were just to save your skin, and keeps his voice irritable. "What?"

Even as he lowers the spear, your panic doesn't fade. As MK walks over with a visible frown, you wave your hands to dismiss the question. "I-It's nothing. I-I'm just a little out of it today."

"Well, that's no excuse," Redson grumbles, brow furrowing.

You swallow dryly, thoughts at war with each other. In the end, you decide that there's just no point today; you're just slowing your friends down with your continuous mistakes. Besides, they're bound to notice how strange you're acting eventually - if they care at all. So you take a step back. "Hey, um . . . I'm gonna turn in. I-I'm tired, and just need to recuperate."

"Aww, you're leaving?" MK asks, visibly upset. "But we just started!"

"They're not leaving," Redson spits, turning his harsh gaze to the Monkie Kid. But it's obviously meant for you, and your insides twist uncomfortably. "They're quitting."

You blink. "I-"

And then stop yourself.

No.

Everything you needed to say has already been said. If Redson is going to get mad at you for God knows what, fine. As long as you can leave this fucking training area and be alone with your thoughts. So you nod dutifully, taking a few more step backward, and then turning around all together. "All right. Bye. . . ."

"Your loss," Redson scoffs.

"Aw . . . dude, c'mon!" MK blurts as you walk off, voice carrying as you leave the grounds. "That was seriously uncool!"

"Don't scold me about being uncool! You're the one trying to cheat."

~~~

You sit alone at the edge of a cliff that oversees a beautiful landscape; lakes, mountains, trees - you even spot a few wildlife poking their noses out into the open.

Unfortunately, you can't seem to enjoy any of the serenity.

Instead, you feel hollow and numb. Residue tears stain your cheeks from things we won't talk about, and you don't care enough to wipe them away. Today just isn't your day. Happiness isn't meant for everyone. Everything will be fine.

Sniffing wetly, you lower your gaze to the deep plunge that will ensue if you decide to drop.

Instant death.

Not that you're planning anything, but the thought that you could end it so quickly is somewhat comforting. At least you wouldn't have to deal with life, anymore.

Footsteps reach your ears.

You know instantly who it is, but don't look up. You keep your eyes trained in the distance, hooded and full of guilt and pain. Surely he's come to drag you back to training, or perhaps he didn't think he'd said enough and has located you just to get a few more words in. These fears only make the tears come back, and your vision blurs.

There's just no point in running away this time.

Shuffling sounds, and Redson carefully lowers himself next to you. "H . . . hey."

Eyes wide, you swallow. "Hi."

A long pause.

Redson casts his gaze out to the sunset. "You know, this is where I defeated my first enemy, right here on this cliff. A fellow demon, and a nasty fellow at that."

You glance sideways, unsure of what to say. What is he doing?

"At first, I was a little nervous," the bull demon continues, voice slow as he searches for the right words. His voice grows more confident after some time. "Honestly, the brute was massive, and my father decided he was a worthy opponent without considering the consequences. And I, Redson, was young and . . . the battle was difficult. The challenger was ruthless and I only triumphed because I had a motivation. After I won, I decided I would keep training until I could defeat demons of much bigger stamina and power than the likes of my first."

"Why are you-"

"My own expectations, (Y/N)," Redson interrupts, somewhat downcast. "I was blinded - just as my father, the demon bull king, had been - with the idea that you and the Monkie Kid could be better, and assigned you possibly the worst opponent I ever could've. Myself."

Oh, hell. He thinks you left for all the wrong reasons. Quickly, you wave your hands. "Redson, I didn't leave because I thought training was unfair. I-I'm just not feeling great."

He blinks at you, confused. "Are you ill?"

"N-No . . . I haven't been feeling well, er, mentally," you say quietly.

There.

You'd said it. Honestly, you thought it would take a near-death experience to reveal how upset you've been these past couple of days. Sure, you haven't disclosed the reasons, but for now, what you've revealed is enough. Redson's eyes widen in realization.

"Why on Earth- no. You probably wouldn't tell me," he says choppily, letting out a short, awkward huff. He averts his eyes to the land below. "I don't need to know."

Tears flood your eyes. Here comes the waterworks. "I-I wish I could-?"

"No. It's not like I could help, anyways. But . . . I suppose that doesn't excuse my behavior today," he adds, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. With a contemplative sigh, he presses his lips together and searches the sky for the right words. "I'm not helping. Damnit."

A small pause.

You just don't know what to say.

"Sometimes . . . I'm unaware of the effect my words have on people," Redson mutters, glaring at the ground. "It's just frustrating how sensitive others can be."

You stay silent. If you speak, you'll just sound awful.

The bull demon glances at you, realizes something, and swallows nervously. "Sorry."

"It's fine."

"Truly, I am," Redson says. You go to interrupt him, to tell him that it's not his fault, but his look hardens. "No, shut up and hear me out. It wasn't my place to berate you for leaving the training session, I just assumed everyone valued it as much as I did. And I know you prioritize it, I was just being-" He cuts himself off.

The struggle is apparent, and the real reason behind his apology has yet to be said still. You merely blink at him.

He balls his hands into fists. "It's just . . . I just forget that people need breaks when they're feeling down. I forget because that's not how I am."

Ah.

Now it makes sense.

Understanding floods your body. It's true; Redson would train even if he's vomiting, even if he's dizzy with exhaustion. That's just how he is, and it's sometimes hard for him to consider that not everyone is like that.

But it's not his place to figure out what's wrong with everyone.

He doesn't need to do that to himself.

"It's not your fault," you say grudgingly, playing with your hands. "Shit happens."

"I-" He glances over, smiling weirdly at you. "Yes. I suppose so. But I'm clearly not helping, what with my rude assessment of your performance today."

"It's fine."

Redson blinks, smile fading as the weight of your words comes to mind. You don't really mean that. You're not fine. But it's not Redson, it's you; you're stupid ability to always fail.

"What . . . what's wrong, (Y/N)?" The demon murmurs.

Fuck.

The wall you've built up is cracking. Then, it simply crumbles to dust when Redson locks eyes with you. There's something so utterly heart wrenching about the look he's wearing; it doesn't suit him, normally he'd be glaring or seeming nonchalant. But not right now. Instead, you find him frowning softly, eyes full of understanding and pity, something not usually associated with the fire demon.

He's casting aside his pride, his upbringing, to comfort you. To ask you what's the matter.

The tears return with a will.

"I-I'm sorry-" Sucking in a breath, you raise your hands to bury your face in - but Redson catches them gently in his own. His eyes are suddenly firm and compassionately sorrowful.

"There's no need to apologize," he says softly, tilting his head. "I may not understand your pain, but if there's any way I can help, I will."

No.

No, you don't deserve it.

Tears cascade down your face. "Y-You don't- . . . I-I can't-"

"It's all right," Redson breathes, brow furrowing together as he searches your face. "I'm sorry if I hurt you. I promise, I'll try to be better for you . . ."

Oh, bother.

At that moment, you squeeze your eyes shut and throw your arms around him, effectively shutting him up.

"Just hold me. . . ."

He goes quite still, releasing your wrists as his hands lay frozen mid-air. Then, slowly, his arms encircle your trembling frame, rubbing your back slightly. "O-Of course," Redson says, the concern clear in his voice. Sure, he's always trying to be uptight and firm, but not this time. You let out a shaky sigh of relief.

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't fret," he murmurs, rubbing soothing circles in your back. "Sometimes, there's no reason to the pain we feel. And if there is, if I can help . . . I will."

You sniff wetly. "I just . . . hate to burden you."

"Ha. You believe this is a burden to me?" At that, Redson snorts. "Unlikely."

". . . Thanks."

He hums. "My pleasure. Would you like to go home after this?"

You think about it. There's something so safe about being in Redson's arms, that you almost want to refuse and beg to stay with him.

"I . . . um . . ."

Redson catches the hesitation in your voice and is quick to backtrack, his wide eyes on the sunset. "You don't have to!" He blurts, somewhat roughly, but it's all in good heart. "I just want you to feel your best today. We can stop training, too, if you'd like."

He seems dead set on helping you, which makes you laugh slightly through the tears. "No, I want to stay with you."

"O-Oh?"

"Mm-hmm. Sure, you're weird and you really like throwing insults around-" At this, Redson clears his throat awkwardly. You smile warmly and continue; "But you're really a good guy. You're someone I admire and look up to whenever I feel down, so maybe that's why I was so upset I failed today. A-Among . . . other reasons. You don't have to worry about me."

Redson sighs, giving you a light squeeze. "Are you sure?"

Well . . .

The negative feelings may return, but for now, you're happy to be here with Redson. Leaning back, you lock eyes with him and nod. "Yeah."

"Oh, thank the stars," he says, looking truly relieved. "Y'know, I only came out here to make sure you were all right. I wasn't expecting this, but I'm not complaining."

"MK didn't force you to apologize?"

He snorts, somewhat amused as he regards you scrutinizingly. "That troublemaker? You really thought someone had to make me see reason in order to grovel? No, I am an independent being and will not stoop so low as to leave you feeling so upset."

You stutter at that.

Redson merely grins, satisfied to have succeeded in his mission. Well, everything's a mission to him.

You're just surprised that making you happy is also one.

"I . . ." Your brow furrows, face screwing up in order to get the words out. "God, I love you. You're suck a freaking dork."

At this, he smiles gently. "Yes, I suppose I love you, too. As annoying as you can be-"

Suddenly, Redson cuts himself off.

Oh.

He's trying. This realization has a watery smile blooming on your face. You throw your arms back around him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He immediately returns the hug, exhaling softly. It's perfect. He's perfect.

Yellow Version:

The Bottle In Your Hands

The night was quiet in your house. Too quiet. The wind seemed to hesitate before brushing against the branches. Not that Wukong ever mind the silence. But tonight, it felt wrong. Off. Like the world had taken a breath and refused to let go.

He sat up on the couch where he’d been sitting, ears twitching. There, just faint enough to be missed, shuffling. Not the normal sort of movement you made before bed. This was slower, heavier.

He frowned. “(Y/N)?”

No answer.

Wukong swung his legs off the side of the couch, tail flicking nervously. Something in his chest pinched as he padded toward your room. The door was cracked open, a thin line of dim light spilling into the hallway.

He pushed it open. “Hey… you okay?”

You were sitting on the edge of your seat, hunched forward. The air smelled faintly of your shampoo, but beneath it was something heavier. Your eyes were locked on the small orange bottle in your hands. Your face was pale, drawn tight, like you were somewhere far away.

Wukong’s heart dropped. He knew what that bottle was. His chest tightened, claws curling reflexively against the doorframe.

“(Y/N)…” His voice was soft now. Not the usual playful drawl, but careful, like he was afraid the sound itself would shatter you.

Your fingers trembled around the bottle. You didn’t look up, just stared at it, like it was the only thing in the room.

He crossed the space between you in three long strides, shifting the chair, crouching in front of you so he could see your face. His tail curled around your leg automatically, a grounding touch.

“Hey, look at me.” His voice cracked a little, but he kept it steady. “Please.”

You blinked, slow and mechanical, but your eyes finally moved to his. The deadness in them made his stomach twist.

Wukong reached out, carefully placing his hand over yours, gently easing the bottle from your grip. “This isn’t the way,” he murmured. “I’m not gonna let you go like this.”

He pulled you into his arms before you could speak, wrapping you tight against his chest. His fur brushed your cheek, warm and soft. You could feel his heart hammering under your palm, fast and panicked, but his arms stayed steady around you.

“You’re not a burden,” he whispered into your hair. “You’re not too much. I’m here. Right here. We’ll get through this together, okay, peaches?”

Your shoulders shook as tears finally escaped, soaking into his fur. Wukong held you tighter, one hand rubbing slow circles over your back.

He didn’t try to fix it right there.

He didn’t try to tell you to stop feeling what you were feeling.

He just held you like you were something precious, something worth staying for, until the tension in your body began to ease.

When you finally spoke, your voice was small and hoarse. “I'm sorry…”

“Don’t apologize.” He said softly, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His own were wet at the corners. “You’re my world, (Y/N). You don’t ever have to go through this alone.”

You buried your face in his shoulder again, clutching his clothes. Wukong pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head and rocked you gently, as if by sheer will he could keep the darkness away.

The night remained silent outside, but in your room, there was the sound of his heart, his breathing, and the quiet promise he whispered over and over: