Archive of Our Own

If you asked Red Son to describe what sort of scientific fields he worked in, he would probably burst into an obnoxious monologue about how he, Red Son, was the genius inventor son of the Demon Bull Family, capable of building armies with his own hands. But, if you caught him when he was too tired to gloat, his answer would be a bit less pompous and a bit more accurate. He would just wave his hands around and say he was something between an engineer and a mechanic. 

Now, Red Son was very talented in his particular field of expertise, and as demon royalty he had a rich education in a variety of subjects, but he wouldn’t call himself an expert or a professional when it came to every branch of study. He understood planetary rotation and could point out most constellations, but he wasn’t an astronomer. He had an encyclopedic knowledge on volcanic eruptions and a small collection of obsidian, but he wouldn’t call himself a geologist. And while he knew how to make antidotes for spider queen venom, he wouldn’t call himself an apothecary.

But his parents didn’t know that. They would look on with bemusement as Red Son worked, but they didn’t really know what Red Son was doing. What they did know was that Red Son made things, and whenever they commissioned something, he would have it ready in three days' time. 

Most of the time, this surface-level understanding of what Red Son was doing worked out just fine. Red Son’s parents would ask him for more foot soldiers, for more armor, for more vehicles with enough firepower to level a mountain–all of which Red Son was more than capable of creating. 

Every now and then, however, they would commission Red Son to work on something…out of his comfort zone. 

Red Son was just adding the finishing touches to the blueprint of a gun when his mother strode into his workshop and dumped a large red flower onto his desk. 

Red Son picked the flower up by one of its petals, confusion clear on his face. His mother was never interested in flower picking. “Mother, what is this?” 

“I have a new project for you,” Princess Iron Fan took the flower from Red Son’s hands, handling it with far more care than he did. “This is the crimson jimsonweed. It blooms only during the crimson moon, deep within the Mystic Forest of the Emerald Lynx. Last night, I had one of your bull clones retrieve it.” The petals emanated a warm glow, swaying like it was still alive somehow. “This flower can be used as an incredibly powerful medicine. But, it is also just as powerful of a toxin. If we can separate the two, we can cast a terrible plague down on the city–a plague only we have the cure to.” 

“We?” Red Son echoed. 

“We as in you’ll be making the toxin and its antidote, and then your father and I will take care of the rest. And of course, our whole family will reap the rewards.” Princess Iron Fan placed the crimson jimson back on the table. “I expect it to be done by the end of the weekend.” 

Red Son was not an apothecary. Nor was he an alchemist, botanist, or chemist. The closest he got to nature was incinerating most of the wildlife in a given area. What basic knowledge he had could help him make basic medicines and antidotes, sure, but carefully extracting a toxin from one of the rarest flowers in the world while also creating a medicine with it? That was well beyond his skillset.

“Mother, you should consider conscripting someone else for this project,”  Red Son stood up from his desk, leaning over the blueprints to plead with her. “ I’m sure there are plenty of demons who would be more than happy to make this for you.”

“Why would I waste my resources hiring someone when you’ll work just fine?” She placed the crimson jimsonweed into Red Son’s hands.

Red Son placed the flower on his desk as he tried to protest further. “Mother, this is not within my field of expertise! I’m an engineer, an inventor! I build and create weapons and tech, I don’t make toxins -”

Princess Iron Fan scoffed. “Come now. You’ve made plenty of trinkets for us before. There shouldn’t be any issue.” 

Suddenly, her demeanor changed. A condescending smile quirked up Princess Iron Fan’s lips as she reached across the table and pinched Red Son’s cheek. 

“Oh, my sweet, useless boy,” she cooed, “Are you really so inept of an apothecary? Were your old tutors that insufficient?”

Princess Iron Fan was a clever demon, always able to manipulate a situation so it unfolded exactly how she pleased. And she had known Red Son all of his life. She knew the one string of his that she could tug, which overpowered all his rationality–she’d insulted his abilities. 

“Of course not!” Red Son’s hair burst into flames. As much as Red Son knew he wasn’t up to the task, the thought of admitting ineptitude to his mother mortified him. “I’m a perfectly capable apothecary!” 

“Well, then I see no issue.” Princess Iron Fan turned away from his desk with a satisfied smile. She crossed her hands behind her back as she strode away. “Have it done by Monday.” 

Red Son sputtered, his gaze alternating between his mother and the crimson jimsonweed on his desk. This was not how he wanted this conversation to go down. 

“The end of the weekend is too short a time for this task,” He trailed behind his mother, waving his hands for emphasis. “Even if I’m able to create this, I’ll need time to research, to gather the right supplies, to properly plan, and I won’t be able to start until tomorrow–”

“Tomorrow?” Princess Iron Fan turned to Red Son, eyebrow raised. “What’s stopping you from starting tonight?” 

Red Son’s objections died a quick death in his throat. 

“Nothing, Mother.” He seemed to almost swallow his words, visibly deflating. “Nothing that matters more than your request.” 

She hummed,  opening the door out the workshop. “Well then. Start quickly.” 

At those words, Princess Iron Fan left Red Son’s workshop, closing the door behind her. She was seemingly uninterested in knowing what exactly Red Son originally had planned for tonight. She probably figured it was working on the new gun, or doing bull clone maintenance, or some other long, tedious task he did in the name of the Demon Bull Family. 

The actual answer, of course, was that Red Son was going kart racing with Mei and MK in about ten minutes.

After the Lady Bone Demon had been defeated, Red Son had expected things to return to some sense of normalcy. Despite the increasing number of alliances, Red Son by no means considered himself one of the heroes. Eventually, the Demon Bull Family would once again attempt to conquer the world, and Red Son would fight anyone who stood in their way, including the Monkie Kid and his friends. 

Mei, however, was now very insistent that Red Son was her “Number Three Bestie,” and since MK was her “Number One Bestie,” they therefore all needed to hang out together. (The Number Two Bestie, of course, was her dragon plushie. Red Son wasn’t sure how he felt about being beaten by a piece of fabric. Even if it was a much better listener than him.) 

Still though, given the fact that they’d saved the world, Red Son felt it would be inappropriate to refuse those first few invitations. , Plus, he did know Mei, and as annoying as she was, the Dragon Girl wasn’t total torture to be around. So, setting aside his disgust, Red Son would accompany Mei and MK and indulge in their mindless human entertainments. 

This didn’t throw a wrench into Red Son’s life as much as it launched the whole tool box. 

Red Son would spend each hang out loudly vocalizing his disdain, but it was getting harder and harder to deny the truth. For all of his animated speeches about how their efforts to befriend him were completely futile and that his loyalties were solely to his family, Red Son had become far, far too attached. 

Mei had already endeared herself to Red Son during his time training her. She was a force of chaos, hyperactive and extroverted with a surprisingly sharp tongue. While Red Son would never admit it out loud, he liked their banter, silly and messy with an undercurrent of genuine belief in the other. It also helped that the two had surprisingly similar interests in vehicles. Mei was more interested in riding while Red Son was more interested in engineering, but there was significant enough overlap that he often found himself in furious debates with Mei about which sort of car battery would be superior for his new truck. 

He admired her, secretly. She had a legacy to uphold that was as illustrious as it was heavy. And yet, while she struggled at times, she seemed confident in who she was and her place in the Long family. The ancestral sword she carried always seemed to gleam with pride. 

Mei didn’t fit the image of a dragon, ditching stiff upper lips and carefully tailored hanfus for dirty fingernails and scruffy letterman jackets, but she was still very much a dragon. She was a strong person, and not just because of the Samadhi fire she now wielded near-effortlessly. 

Secretly, Red Son wished he had that sort of strength and security in the role he served for his family. And he hoped maybe, he could learn how to find that through her. 

So yes, Red Son enjoyed Mei’s company quite a lot. But she wasn’t the problem. His parents would disapprove of their friendship, but Red Son was confident he could convince them to tolerate her presence. She did hold the Samadhi fire, afterall. Whether his parents liked it or not, they were connected. 

No, no, the real problem was MK. Or Noodle Boy, which Red Son still liked to sneer at him for a greeting. There was a time when Red Son’s snarl had legitimately intimidated the Noodle Boy. Now though, it would only make MK laugh, grabbing Red Son’s wrist to drag him into the arcade or the movie theater or his cramped apartment. 

MK was a hero, through and through. He was determined, eager to complete whatever challenge lay in his wake. It was a perseverance which bled into everything he did, whether it was fighting demons, delivering noodles, or getting the shading on a portrait just right. And while Red Son admired all these traits (which he would die before admitting) they were also part of the problem. 

Part of MK’s heroism was his kindness. He would constantly go out of his way to help others, even if it was to his own detriment. His altruism was practically a weakness. And because of his stubbornly heroic (or heroically stubborn) demeanor, Mk’s generosity seemed to have very few limits. And somehow, being kind to Red Son wasn’t a step too far for him. 

It made sense, Red Son supposed–MK was the one who proposed joining forces during the Spider Queen Invasion, so he had to at the very least trust Red Son enough to work with him back then. Not to mention, he was quick to bring Red Son onto the team when fighting the Lady Bone Demon. But now that Red Son was actually his friend, MK seemed to make it his mission to suffocate Red Son with his… MKness. 

He was always first to ask how Red Son was doing, what he did that day, if there was anything he wanted to do. MK would get excited hearing Red Son talk about his newest projects, practically begging him to rant about it more despite barely keeping up with the jargon Red Son flung his way. He would insist for them to hang out, even without Mei, and when Red Son questioned why, MK would always just laugh like the answer was obvious, that of course he wanted to spend time with him. 

It was all a bit too forward for Red Son, whose head would spin at the blunt force of MK’s kindness. And yet, for all of his fiery tirades which scorched the roof of Pigsy’s Noodles, Red Son found he craved that attention. 

Every couple minutes he would glance at the black screen of the phone Mei had gifted him, hoping for a text from the Noodle Boy. And on those lucky days a text did go off, Red Son was always quick to reply, dropping everything just to check if MK had sent him another silly picture of a cow with the caption “Thought you would like this :D”

It was even worse when they were in person. MK’s presence was downright magnetic. Red Son couldn’t help the way his ears would twitch at his voice, the way his body always seemed to angle itself to face him, how even when he recognized these little subconscious motions, he didn’t have it in him to stop it. 

It frustrated Red Son how giddy he seemed to get for MK, but more than anything it confused him. MK and Mei were both his friends, but Mei’s presence did not elicit the same sort of elation as MK did. Her messages didn’t send a jolt of joy in his chest when he saw them. Her laughter didn’t replay in Red Son’s head when he couldn’t sleep. Despite Red Son arguably being closer to Mei, he found himself irrationally and inexplicably attached to the Noodle Boy. 

For weeks, it drove Red Son mad that he couldn’t put the warm thudding of his chest into words. But then, one night, MK called Red Son and asked if he wanted to go out for a drive. 

Red Son had obliged; he wasn’t sleeping well either, and driving around in the desert surrounding his home actually helped collect his thoughts. So, he picked MK out and they drove through the city.

Something was off though. Red Son could tell by the hollow, glassy look in MK’s eyes as he stared out the window. He didn’t speak much, only humming in response to Red Son’s long winded tangents. Red Son had never been the best with identifying emotions, but tonight, something rippled off MK in a way too obvious to ignore. There was a sense of fragility to him, like a bowl the moment before it broke, the cracks visible and easy to damage more if Red Son didn’t play his cards carefully. 

However, Red Son was not the best with careful, delicate conversations with fragile people. When the two pulled up to a red light, Red Son groaned, lowered the music, and snapped his head at MK. “What’s wrong with you?”

MK turned to Red Son with a stunned expression. “What?” 

“You’ve been acting strange this whole car ride!” Red Son yelled. “You’ve been completely unresponsive to everything I’ve been saying, you’ve been staring out the window for ten minutes straight, and the loudest noise you’ve made tonight was some meek little sigh into your jacket sleeve!” 

MK tried to protest, but Red Son continued his tirade.” You might have been able to pass it off as being tired, but we just passed an ad for that atrocious new Monkey Cop movie, and you didn’t ask me to pull over so you could babble for twenty minutes.” Red Son pointed his thumb out the window and behind him. “So something is clearly bothering you.”

MK’s vision clouded, brow furrowed as he bit his lip. That fragility Red Son saw seemed more pronounced than ever. But as quickly as it came, it vanished. MK laughed. “I thought you hated it when I talked about Monkey Cop.”

Red Son scoffed. “Of course I do.” He didn’t. It was actually incredibly endearing to watch MK’s hands dance and eyes sparkle while he raved about his favorite things. If anything, Red Son hated how much he enjoyed MK talking his ear off. “But that’s besides the point and you know it.” 

The light turned green and Red Son continued to drive down the city streets. “You're miserable. And you’re doing a terrible job of hiding it.”

MK’s smile ebbed in the corners, those fragile cracks creeping up his sides. “Look, it’s fine. I’ve had a rough night, it’s whatever. We don’t have to talk about it.” 

Red Son snorted. “Aren’t you the one always encouraging me to go visit your blue friend to talk about my issues? It's a bit hypocritical of you to keep quiet now, isn’t it?” MK flinched at the questions, and to Red Son’s horror he felt bad for seemingly hitting a nerve. 

Red Son sighed, trying to ease some of the tension he created. He ran a hand through the tuft of hair that grew from his widow’s peak. “You called me, didn’t you?” He took a chance to glance at MK through the rear view mirror. “Was it not to have someone to talk to?” 

“I mean, not really.” MK shrugged. “Whenever I feel sad, I just try not to think about it, and it’s easier to do that when someone else is there. Honestly, my go to coping mechanism is calling up Mei to distract myself.” 

“Was she not available?” Red Son snarked. 

“I don’t know. I didn’t call her.” MK leaned back in the car seat, hands cradling the back of his head. “I wanted to be with you.” 

That bluntness again. That overwhelming sweetness and support, so horrifically forward and honest and genuine. Even as his fragile state continued to splinter, MK struck Red Son where it hurt the most, making his chest pound and his head spin. It was maddening. 

Red Son tried to put his…his whatever to the side as he spoke. “Look. Against my better judgment, you and I…we’re friends, yes?” Red Son gripped the steering wheel, trying to ignore the bitter betrayal that escaped his lips. “Well, from what I’m aware of, a friend wouldn’t just ignore when something is clearly bothering you. 

“If you just want to drive around the city in a dismal attempt to distract yourself, we can do that, but if you do want to… talk,” Red Son waved one of his hands around, trying to grasp the right words to comfort MK. “Then you should know I am more than willing to listen.” 

Red Son couldn’t stop the blush on his cheeks, the flames which snaked up his ponytail. He tried his best to focus on the road or the city lights passing by in vivid streaks, but he found himself only focusing on the silence that sat next to him, the slight shuffling in the passenger seat, the exhale of breath held for who knows how long. 

It was then that MK began to talk. 

He told Red Son about the tensions between him and Sun Wukong, the abandonment he felt from a hero he had looked up to his whole life. He told him about the terror he felt when Mei vanished, unable to help her the way she needed. MK told him about that final fight, the pressure of having the world rest in his hands, and how even months later he sometimes felt he was still there, trying to wrench the staff out of the Lady Bone Demon’s icy grip. He told Red Son about the guilt that ate at his rib cage, which insisted that somehow, every terrible thing that happened was all his fault. How even now, a part of MK was still terrified that Sun Wukong had picked the wrong successor. 

It was the first time Red Son had ever got to see the MK beneath his wide grins and perpetually optimistic hero speeches. It upset him to see MK’s shaking hands and hollow, glassy eyes. Red Son wasn’t sure if there was any way he could feasibly help, but he hoped there was something he could do to help MK get back to his bright and bubbly self, no matter how irresistibly insufferable he was. 

Red Son had very little experience comforting others, but he tried his best, nodding his head and listening carefully. When he did speak, Red Son tried to assure MK that he did the best he could. That even though he didn’t deserve the things that happened to him, he was strong enough to persevere through them, the way he persevered through everything. That the people he cared about loved him back, even if some of them had made mistakes along the way. 

When MK mentioned being the wrong successor, however, Red Son slammed the breaks of the car in the middle of the road. 

“WHOA!” MK put his hands up in front of him, stopping himself from smacking into the dashboard. “What was that fo-?!” 

“Don’t you insult me with that drivel!” Red Son was glaring at MK, hair and hands gone up in flames. 

“I wasn’t insulting you!” MK sounded baffled by Red Son’s sudden outburst. 

“Oh please.” Red Son sneered. “You’re so caught up in belittling yourself you don’t even recognize what you’re implying. You realize that your first foes were me and my family, right?” Red Son leaned elbow against the steering wheel, hands gesturing wildly. “Minutes after my father is freed, you pick up the staff, and not even a day later you defeat him in battle despite having zero training and zero combat experience. Centuries of planning, ruined completely by you.”

Fire burst out of Red Son’s hair, toasting the roof of the car. “Time and time again, you have blocked my father’s destiny and made us-made me- retreat with our tails between our legs, and now you want to tell me you did that while being the wrong successor?!”  

MK looked down at the dashboard, cupping his face. He turned to Red Son, the smallest glimmer in his eyes. “Huh. I guess I did do all that, didn’t I?” 

The fires began to die down now, but Red Son continued. “Trust me on this, Noodle Boy. If you were unworthy of being that simian’s successor, I would have turned you into ash before that staff even touched your fingers.” Red Son jammed his finger into MK’s chest. “I didn’t lose to an imposter. I lost to Sun Wukong’s rightful successor.”

MK stared at Red Son. The street lights against his eyes made them sparkle as he gave Red Son a lopsided smile. “Okay. I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Red Son tried to start the car back up when MK took Red Son’s pointing hand and rested it on his lap. “Thank you. For listening to me about all of this.”

MK held Red Son’s hand in both of his, running his thumbs across Red Son’s bony knuckles. “I don’t really talk about things as much as I should. I know, like you said, it’s hypocritical since I keep telling you to see Sandy, but I don’t know. I don’t want to bother other people with my stuff. I’d rather not worry them, especially when it’s not their problem to worry about. And, like I said, I just try not to think about my stuff too much. It’s easier to focus on everyone else’s problems anyways.” 

There it was. That self-destructive altruism, rearing its two-sided head. A heroic character flaw, but still a flaw, nevertheless. 

He stared at Red Son’s hand, rubbing circles on the back of his palm. “But, I dunno. Tonight, it was easy to talk about this. It’s really easy to talk to you.”

“Easy?” Red Son had been called a fair number of things, but never easy to talk to. 

MK’s fingernails grazed Red Son’s hand, sending a thrill up his arm. “Yeah. I mean, you’re easy to talk to in general because you’re like, fun and interesting and whatever,” Red Son’s hair steamed at MK’s casual compliments , “ But with this? I dunno. You just explain things in a way which makes sense. It helps me get out of my own head, think about it from a different perspective, y’know? 

“And I don’t feel bad about telling you everything either. Some of this stuff I still can’t bring myself to tell Mei-and she’s my best friend!” MK exclaimed. He laughed to himself, a soft look in his eyes that Red Son hadn’t ever seen before. “But, it’s easy to talk to you.” 

“It’s…really nice, actually,” MK smiled now, that warm smile which drew Red Son in so often, finally returning. “It’s nice to actually talk about my issues instead of trying not to think about it.” His shoulders shook as he chuckled. “Feel like a mountain’s been lifted off my back.” 

Red Son glared at MK. “You did not just make an analogy about lifting mountains in front of me.” MK laughed, grip tightening as he tipped his head back. It was this bright, cheerful little melody that warmed the back of Red Son’s ears, his mouth curling into a small smile as he watched the MK he knew return to him. The warm thud in Red Son’s chest returned, the back of his ears burning. MK seemed to literally brighten as he laughed, and Red Son couldn’t help but stare in awe. 

“But seriously, Red Son.” MK squeezed Red Son’s hand, enveloping it in both of his. “Thanks for letting me talk to you.” MK looked up at Red Son with a lopsided smile. “I hope one day, you can talk to me too.” 

MK’s eyes were no longer glassy and hollow. They reflected all the city lights and neon signs of Megapolis. Those fragile cracks within MK were being filled by a golden warmth which Red Son could feel pulsing against his hand. In that moment, MK looked like he had stolen every light in the heavens to cradle in his eyes, his smile, his hands which held Red Son’s so tenderly. 

Slowly, slowly, Red Son used his free hand to push back a lock of hair which had fallen out of MK’s bandana. His hands grazed MK’s temple, and as much as his mind insisted he was far too close, Red Son still wanted to hold that light, that warmth, the heavens and all its gorgeous lights which seemed to dance in wide brown eyes and grinning lips-

The sound of a car honking made Red Son and MK jump. 

MK laughed so hard it sounded more like a wheeze. “You didn’t pull over?!” 

“I-I forgot!” Red Son stuttered, pulling his hand away from MK’s face to cover his own. “You were talking such nonsense before that I got distracted!”

MK let go of Red Son’s hands to cradle his stomach, laughing so hard it surely had to cramp. Red Son looked down at his now free hand, brow furrowed. Even though MK’s body temperature was cooler than his, Red Son’s hand seemed to burn. His skin seemed to mourn the loss of his touch, the golden warmth, the lights of the heavens which had thanked him moments before. 

Red Son grunted, gripped the wheel, and began to drive.

For the rest of that evening, Red Son was the one who was quiet, barely even reacting when MK kicked his feet up on the dashboard despite it being completely unacceptable. Because as he stared down at his hand, Red Son had a revelation. 

When MK held his hand and smiled at him with all the light in the world, Red Son wanted to kiss him. And if they hadn’t been interrupted, Red Son feared he would have actually done it.

This was the toolbox which had been launched into Red Son’s life. The insufferable little human who ruined the return of his father. The Monkey King’s idiot successor who seemed to beat him at every turn. The perpetually cheerful hero who Red Son was forced to ally with time and time again. The warm, golden, beautiful light who Red Son wanted to nestle into early in the morning.

Finally, Red Son could put what exactly made his attachment to MK so different from Mei into words. He was in love. 

Red Son took this revelation in stride by proceeding to ignore Mei and MK for a solid month. 

Red Son’s plan had been to simply cut contact with MK until his feelings passed, but he quickly learned that wouldn’t work. Now that Red Son knew how he felt, his feelings only seemed to grow stronger, and every effort he made to push MK out of his mind failed spectacularly. But with each ignored text, he now had the entirely new issue of explaining to MK why he hadn’t spoken to him since the night of the drive, which was a conversation Red Son really did not want to have. 

He couldn’t speak to Mei either. She would want to spend time with Bestie 3 and Bestie 1, and Red Son had no idea how to properly explain why he couldn’t be around MK other than telling the truth, which was not an option. So, he had to ignore her too. 

So for a full month, whenever Mei spammed Red Son’s phone with calls or MK sent a “You okay?” text, Red Son would shove his phone deeper into his pocket, trying his best to ignore the buzzing against his thigh. It probably would have been easier to hide the phone away or even destroy it, but Red Son couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t destroy his affections, so he clung to them, keeping the phone deep in his pocket even though he refused to respond. 

As much as he tried to push MK and Mei away, Red Son couldn’t help but miss them. He tried not to think about the pang in his chest whenever he thought about his fierce debates with Mei or his playful banter with MK, but it always managed to snake into the forefront of his mind. Red Son tried to convince himself that staying away from them was for the best, and that eventually, it wouldn’t hurt to keep them so far away, but loneliness ate at Red Son’s chest. 

He couldn’t keep it up forever. After three weeks of Mei’s five am spam calls, he picked up the phone and answered. 

Despite not speaking to Mei for a month, Red Son tried to pretend nothing had changed at all. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Why are you always up this early-?” 

“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!” Mei was so loud that Red Son had to move the phone away from his ear. “MK AND I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO GET IN CONTACT FOR WEEKS! WE ALMOST BROKE INTO YOUR HOUSE JUST TO SEE IF YOU DIED!!” 

Red Son rubbed his hand against his cheek, trying to keep the guilt bubbling in his chest from pouring out. “Look, it’s hard to explain, alright? What I can say is-”

“Oh no, you are NOT explaining yourself over the phone.” Was it Red Son’s imagination or could he feel the heat of the Samdhi fire from the speakers? “No no no, that would be too easy, and I’m not letting you get away easy, Red Boy.” 

She spoke with such bite that Red Son could practically feel her teeth sink into his arm. “ Here’s what you’re going to do. This Friday, MK and I are going kart racing. And you’re going to come along. And you’re going to like it .” 

Huh? 

“W-wait, what?” Red Son could barely question Mei before she shouted. “Oh-ho no! Don’t you think you can wiggle out of this Red Boy. We are HANGING OUT! We are going to HAVE FUN! I am going to WIPE THE FLOOR with your FACE in kart racing! And then you are going to TALK ABOUT WHAT’S WRONG!! GOT IT?!”

Ah. That was it. Red Son had expected Mei to properly scathe Red Son for his sudden drop of communication, but instead, they were going to spend time together doing something fun so that Red Son was comfortable enough to talk about what was bothering him. 

He would’ve preferred the lecture, to be honest. 

“This Friday, you are either meeting us in Pigsy’s at seven, or we’re dragging you out of your house.” Mei announced. “I’m serious, it’s a two hour drive to the Demon Bull Fortress, but if you’re not at Pigsy’s, I’ll do it. And if you still try to say no, me and MK will pull out the puppy dog eyes.” 

Please. Red Son could resist a few peasants fluttering their eyelids and asking nicely. Even if one of them had those warm brown eyes which somehow captured the lights of Megapolis, which gazed at Red Son with a kindness he’d never known but longed to keep. Even if the thought of MK pouting his lips and pleading with Red Son to pretty please go out with me made the ends of his hair steam. 

He wouldn’t fall for that. He wasn’t that pathetic. 

Still though, Red Son did miss his friends, no matter how mortified he was by that admission. Friday was a bit less than a week away–he figured that by then, he would have crafted up some sort of reasonable excuse for his sudden leave of absence. That, or he could just confess to MK and destroy the only friendships he ever had, returning to his original life path of dutifully working under his father while trying his best not to think about the phone in his pocket or the hand that still burned from MK’s touch. 

Yeah, absolutely not. Red Son would just lie through his teeth. 

So, Red Son agreed to go kart racing with Mei and MK. He had spent the week quietly preparing for that evening, playing out every different possible scenario in his head that could hopefully end with him protecting what little dignity he had. He barely spoke to his parents, tinkering on little projects like cars and guns to distract himself as Friday drew closer.

But now, it was Friday night, and Red Son had to spend the night with a plant. 

Okay. Okay. This was fine. It was only what, 6:50? It was a perfectly appropriate time for Red Son to back out of the kart-racing. Mei and MK would understand! They wouldn’t just think Red Son was flaking out because he was scared of talking to them or whatever. They would totally understand that Red Son was busy and that they could reschedule for another day. He was absolutely nailing this friendship thing. 

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and shot a quick text to Mei. 

I can’t go kart-racing tonight. I have to complete a new project for my mother. Next Friday my schedule will most likely be free, although that may also be subject to change. Have a good evening. Send the Noodle Boy my regards.

Oh, yeah, nailing it.

With that, Red Son turned off his phone and placed it inside his work desk to properly focus. Yes, this was a field of study Red Son wasn’t quite as knowledgeable on as others, but that was no matter! He was Red Son! His mother had conscripted him for this project, and so he would get it done. All he needed to do was research and prepare. 

With a flurry of his hand, a series of pink holographic screens appeared before Red Son. 

Moving his blueprints aside, Red Son centered the crimson jimsonweed on the now-clear surface. 

“Alright,” Red Son sighed. “Let’s get this done quickly.” 

Red Son proceeded to get nearly nothing done for two hours. 

It wasn’t like he was just slacking off. He was scouring the Cloud for any possible information he could use, but what little literature he found frankly made him feel less confident in the task ahead. 

The normal jimsonweed was already a tricky plant to work with. Every source he could find strongly recommended for only professionals to handle it, and to only do so when there were no other alternatives. The symptoms for jimson weed poisoning went on–accelerated heartbeat, nausea, hyperthermia, hallucinations, even death– all of which Red Son wanted to avoid but frankly wasn’t sure how. 

But the normal jimsonweed at least had sources that weren’t near mythos. 

The crimson jimsonweed was so incredibly rare and powerful that it had barely any literature on it beyond fluff filled poems about the Mystic Jungle of the Emerald Lynx. There were plenty of ominous warnings about how deadly the crimson jimsonweed could be to even the most powerful of beings, but nothing detailing how exactly not to die from it. It didn’t even have a scientific classification; the Datura genus made no mention of the crimson jimsonweed, and neither did any other genus for poisonous plants. 

Right. Okay. So with these scraps of information, Red Son was supposed to create a toxin powerful enough to plague the mortals but just weak enough to not immediately kill them while also making an antidote to this disease using the same exact plant. 

And also he only had one flower. 

And also he had until Monday. 

This was fine. 

“Alright. Alright.” Red Son paced around the table. “There’s some older literature about how jimsonweed was once smoked for medicine by humans. But, inhaling too much of it would cause someone to get sick. So maybe, if I’m able to properly figure out the exact percentage of crimson jimson a mortal can inhale to get sick without dying, I can create some sort of…airborne disease?” 

Red Son crossed his arms, looking down at the flower. “Usually, it’s the leaves that are smoked, but all the-” Incredibly unhelpful and pretentious poems “-‘aspiring literature’ on the Crimson Jimson doesn’t discriminate about where its power is sourced from. So, maybe if I dry the petals and treat it the way I would leaves, I can create the desired effect?” 

Talking his thought process out loud did not at all comfort Red Son. He was painfully aware he had no idea what he was doing. But he wasn’t sure what other options he really had. 

“Alright.” Red Son scooped the crimson jimsonweed into his hands. “I dry the petals, then continue my research. Simple.” The crimson jimsonweed seemed to almost respond to his touch, the petals swaying and brightening as he lifted it from the table. 

Somehow, Red Son felt like it was mocking him. 

Red Son enveloped the flower in his hands and began to slowly raise the temperature of his palms. Contrary to what you’d expect from his typical demeanor, Red Son was actually quite capable when it came to controlling his fire powers. And this process was nothing new to him, even if it had been a while. When he was younger, Red Son used to dry flowers in his palms while meditating. It was a method of practicing precise temperature control. He would cup the flower in his hands and heat his palms, just enough to speed up the drying process, but not enough to incinerate the flower. Red Son predicted that he would have the crimson jimson dried in a half an—why was it smoking? 

Red Son looked down at his hand to see a dark red smoke escaping from between his fingers. That...was not supposed to happen. In fact, how did that happen? He had barely heated up his hands, why was it smoking like that? 

Red Son grumbled. “Maybe if I had actual literature on this weed I’d know its ignition temperature-” 

Suddenly, Red Son felt the flower in his hand burst into flames.

Red Son yelped, moving one of his hands away to see what exactly was happening to the plant. A massive plume of dark red smoke flew up into Red Son’s face. He wheezed, hacking as he tried to fan the smoke away from him. Somewhere under the thick haze of smoke that he could barely see through, Red Son recognized the charred outline of the Crimson Jimson flower, scorched in flames. 

Panicked, he used his free hand to stamp at the fire one, two, three times, the smoke billowing out from his palms. By the time the flames had been put out, all that was left of the Crimson Jimson was ash in Red Son’s hands. 

Red Son cursed, tossing the ashes into a trash can. He was already dreading telling Mother the news. He could already imagine her reaction to learning he incinerated the crimson jimsonweed into smoke and ash. I know you’re useless, but this is a level of ineptitude even I thought you couldn’t stoop to. 

But Red Son couldn’t really focus on that right now. He couldn’t really focus on anything as he coughed into his sleeve. 

The ventilation system in Red Son’s workshop was quite good at its job. He worked with fire and metal, so he needed to make sure he could get the smoke out of his workspace and safely into the air in a matter of seconds. And yet, the smoke from the Crimson Jimson weed seemed to cling to him. Red Son could taste that burgundy smoke in his mouth, could still feel it burning his nose hairs, almost like it was still floating around within his lungs-

…Because he had breathed in the dangerously toxic mythical plant smoke. 

Shit. 

Shit.

Shit!

Red Son had no safety measures for poison in his workshop. Even if he did, he wasn’t sure how exactly to nurse crimson jimsonweed poisoning because all those stupid poems never spoke about how to survive. They only spoke about a raw, deadly power which ‘The celestials above/bowed their head to,’ a stanza in one particularly smarmy reading that Red Son’s increasingly foggier brain remembered now. He never wanted to test  how accurate that line was!

Red Son began to stumble towards the back of his workshop. He had a switch installed somewhere on the walls, on the off chance he would get injured while working. It would send some bull clones into his workshop to nurse him back to health the best they could, while deploying a few others to inform his parents of his state. But as he walked across his workshop, Red Son could feel his heart begin to race, his stomach begin to turn, and his vision begin to blur. 

Jimsonweed poisoning takes effect after thirty minutes, Red Son recalled reading, but none of those poems ever said anything about how quickly the crimson jimsonweed could kill you, did they? They spoke of miserable, painful deaths, hot and dry and nauseous, with images that danced in front of your eyes, haunting you to Diyu, but they never mentioned how quickly the pain and hauntings would come. 

He felt hot. Actually hot, burning hot, scorching hot, had Red Son ever really felt hot before? He ran his hand up his face to remind him that yes, yes he had, that his knuckles still burned from MK’s thumbs running along them. But that was a good heat, a good warmth, from a kind face and strong hands. This was the sort of miserable heat only Red Son could create for himself. 

Red Son must have stumbled over something, because he fell to the floor. He couldn't bring himself to get up, the cold metal tiles too relieving for Red Son's burning skin to abandon. Some delirious part of brain feared he would stick to the floor Was he melting? It felt like he was melting. 

Red Son lay on the floor, panting as he shut his eyes. The switch was just another few feet away, but it was so hard for Red Son to focus that he could barely figure out where it was. Frankly, it was hard for him to remember where he even put it. Maybe it wasn’t a switch? Maybe it was a button, or a lever? Or maybe it was something with eight different complex sequences because for some reason, Red Son loved when his inventions were complicated. 

He missed MK. Everything surrounding his love for MK was complicated, but the actual love itself was so simple, so easy. He just wanted to be near him, around him, with him, basking in gold and warmth and kindness which faced adversity with a determined smile. He just wanted to give him some light too. Red Son wondered if he’d die alone in his workshop, fantasizing about MK cupping his face and burning him more.

He should’ve just gone kart-racing. 

“He should’ve just gone kart-racing.” Mei grumbled. “It would’ve been easier for everyone involved, but NOOOO!” 

Mei shouted as she drove, her voice somehow overpowering her motorcycle speeding through the jagged cliffs and rocky roads. “Red Boy needs to do a PROJECT for MOMMY!  Like that isn’t the most obvious lie.” She grumbled. 

MK clung to her waist as she drove past the bubbling pools of lava, narrowly avoiding the attention of the bull clones keeping watch. He listened to Mei as she continued to rant.

“I mean, I get that Red Boy’s only had his stupid bull clones to talk to before us, but to cancel ten minutes before we were supposed to meet up?! Even he should know better!” Mei growled, gripping her bike handles so hard MK worried they might snap off. “When I see him, I’m gonna rip out his ponytail!” 

“I mean, maybe he did have a project.” MK shrugged. “Doesn’t Red Son build like, all the tech stuff for the Demon Bull Family?” 

“Well, even if he didn’t lie about this, that doesn't make it okay!" Mei shouted. "Red Son’s been ignoring the both of us for a month! And now he’s ditching us for a stupid project that we don’t even know is real!”

“At least he gave us an explanation this time, right? He could have just not shown up at all.” MK winced at how weak his argument sounded. 

Mei turned to MK, her expression somewhere between angry and baffled. “MK, you’re not actually defending him right now, are you?” 

“No! I mean, yes? Maybe?” MK laughed despite the situation not at all being a laughing matter. “I don’t know, I’d just like to think Red Son has a reason for why he’s acting like this, and that he’ll talk when he’s ready.” 

“Oh he’ll talk.” Mei narrowed her eyes, turning her gaze back in front of her just in time to narrowly avoid driving them both into a ravine of lava. “He’ll talk when we go kart racing.”

MK leaned his head against Mei’s back as the two drove. He really wanted to believe that Red Son had a good reason for avoiding them like this. As angry as Mei was, he knew that she wanted to believe that too. 

There was a question which hung over the both of them as the Demon Bull Fortress came into view, which bobbed in their throats but refused to leave their lips. What if Red Son didn’t want to be their friend anymore? Sure, Red Son had seemed to be more and more visibly happy around them, but he was still the son of the Demon Bull Family. Red Son was always quick to remind them that their friendship was conditional at best. Maybe he was cutting them off so they could go back to how they used to be–villains and heroes, enemies to the end. 

MK hoped that wasn’t true. He didn’t think he could see Red Son as a villain or an enemy anymore. If he had to fight Red Son again, MK wasn’t sure if he could bring himself to do it. 

He thought about the last time he’d seen Red Son, when the two of them drove around Megapolis. It surprised him still, how easy it was to open up to Red Son. And what surprised MK more was how comforting of a presence Red Son was. He was rough around the edges, sure, but Red Son cared, murmuring words of comfort one moment and aggressively asserting MK’s worth the next. He helped straighten everything out, pulling MK out of his tangled mess of thoughts with a snarl that hid what MK hoped was genuine care for his well being. 

MK remembered running his thumbs across the bone of Red Son’s knuckles, feeling the dry skin and the heat which permeated through it. It reminded him of campfires he used to make with Pigsy back during the search for the rings of Samadhi. MK liked those little moments, where the people he cared about most curled up by the fire to stay warm. And Red Son was like that for him too, a powerful flame which MK wanted to sit by. A warmth he wanted to press against his fingers. 

And when Red Son tucked away a lock of his hair, his fingers grazing Mk’s temples, MK wondered if maybe, that warmth wouldn’t burn him if he tried to touch it the way the campfire would. Maybe, Red Son would welcome it. 

So yeah, it would be kind of weird to start fighting Red Son again given the fact that MK was pretty in love with him. 

It had started out as just a little crush which formed shortly after Mei began dragging Red Son along for get togethers. It wasn’t anything crazy! He just thought Red Son was pretty and fun to talk to. But with each hangout MK could see that his feelings were evolving beyond a simple crush on his new friend. After that night in the car, he was completely certain that he was in love with Red Son. And while MK wasn’t the best at picking up emotional cues, that night, he thought that maybe he had a real chance of getting Red Son to love him too. 

And then Red Son stopped talking to him completely. 

At first, MK worried that maybe he did something wrong. Maybe he had gone too far during the drive, had completely misread Red Son’s reaction, and had officially weirded out the love of his life. But before he could begin to spiral down that train of thought, Mei asked if Red Son had been texting him, and then MK wasn’t sure what to think.

From what he and Mei could tell, Red Son had seemingly vanished from the mortal plane. They only knew he was alive because every now and then, MK would see the read receipts update from the spam texts of "You okay??" he would send Red Son daily. And yet, he would never respond, leaving MK and Mei to try to and discern what was wrong on their own.

Eventually, Red Son returned Mei’s torrent of calls. She demanded that Red Son join them for kart-racing so he could explain why he suddenly stopped talking to them. He’d agreed, but then ten minutes before the meet up time, Red Son texted Mei he had a project he had to work on. 

Upon seeing the text, Mei laughed.

Everyone in Pigsy’s shuddered in fear. 

“MK,” She stood up from her chair, putting her phone in her pocket. He jumped in his seat when she spoke. Despite her cheery voice, Mei’s aura made MK’s nervous system leap into fight-or-flight mode. “Do you remember what I said we’d do if Red Son didn’t show up at Pigsy’s?” 

“Uhh-” MK’s brain scrambled to recall the answer, but Mei giggled, turning to MK with a thin-lipped smile. “I said that if he wasn’t here by seven, we’d pick him up at his place.” 

Her grin grew wide and toothy, eyes scrunched shut as she tilted her head. “So, I guess we’re going for a drive!” 

The motorcycle skidded to a halt at a cliff overlooking the Demon Bull Fortress. MK unwrapped his arms from Mei’s waist, staring out at the building which seemed to loom over the two of them. 

Mei took off her helmet with a sigh. Her hair looked perfect despite being trapped in a helmet for two hours, but she ran a hand through it anyways. “Alright,” She looked over at MK. “Go get him.” 

MK fell off the bike. 

“WHAT?!” he jumped up, shouting at Mei. “Why do I have to get him?!” 

“Uhh, because you’re the Monkie Kid? You have mystic Monkie powers, so you can sneak into the Demon Bull Fortress without getting caught.” Mei stated this like it was the plan the whole time, and not something she was telling MK right now. “Plus, I’ve gotta stay here to be the getaway driver. We are basically kidnapping him.” 

MK groaned, “Don’t call it kidnapping .” 

“What?” Mei huffed, a genuine smile snaking up her face now. “It’s literally kidnapping, I'm not wrong.”

She wasn't, but MK couldn’t really associate the word “kidnapping” with Red Son without remembering his lengthy and exasperated lectures on the cultural intricacies of 'courtnapping', and right now courting Red Son was sort of the last thing he wanted on his mind right now. 

“Look it’ll be fine, in and out, easy. Text me if you need some backup or anything, okay?” Mei pulled out her phone and began to scroll online for a puppy video, already preparing to distract herself while MK kidnapped Red Son. (Platonically, of course.)

“Fine, fine I’ll do it. But you owe me like a million games of Monkie Mech!” MK shouted. 

“Deal! Just remember you said I owe you a million games, and not a million wins.” Mei said, leaning over the bike to jokingly sneer at MK as he transformed.  

“Oh, I know. I don’t need you to owe me a win–I can just beat you myself.” Now a hawk, MK perched onto Mei’s bike handle, flourishing his wings in pride. 

“Uh huh. Tell that to the scoreboard.” Mei shoved her phone into MK’s face, revealing a long tally of Mei and MK’s Monkie Mech wins with Mei comfortably in the lead. 

“You can’t tell because I don’t have eyebrows, but I’m glaring at you so hard right now.” MK grumbled. 

With a final ruffle of his feathers, MK soared off to the Demon Bull Fortress. 

MK had only been there once before, but as he flew towards an open window, he was confident he would find Red Son eventually. He did insist on a full tour of the house while he stayed there, like any proper guest hoping to steal from the hosts would, so he had a fuzzy idea of the fortress’s layout. 

MK perched himself on the ledge of the window, peeking inside. He could see the banquet room from where he was, empty plates and food scraps piled high. DBK sat at one end of the table and Princess Iron Fan sat at the other, but Red Son was nowhere to be seen. 

MK leaned over the windowsill, trying to listen in on their conversation. 

“Tonight, there’s going to be a marathon of your baking show.” Princess Iron Fan said, placing a golden goblet down onto the table.

“Yes, yes, I remember.” DBK got up from his seat, cracking his neck and back muscles. “You will join me in watching my favorite baker DOMINATE the competition, yes?” 

“Oh, baby,” Princess Iron Fan stood up, walking around the table to join her husband. “No matter how many times you watch it, you know they get voted out in the semi-finals.” 

DBK roared in genuine anguish. He slammed his fist on top of the table, making the silverware jump a foot in the air. “It was no fault of their own. They were robbed of their victory by that despicable, pathetic, tasteless judge-!” 

Princess Iron Fan cooed, running her hand up her husband’s snout. “Come now. No need to get upset. We can watch it together, and afterwards we can plot the demise of the judge who has wronged your beloved baker.” 

MK could hear the smirk in Princess Iron Fan’s voice as she leaned towards Demon Bull King’s ear. “I’ve commissioned Red Son for a new project. He’s in his workshop now, preparing it. Perhaps we can make that miserable little judge the first patient.”

YES! MK would have pumped his fist in the air if he had arms or hands at the moment. Red Son hadn’t been lying about the project! 

The project being something horrible…commissioned by Princess Iron Fan…to harm…people. Yeah. Uh.

Okay so MK celebrated way too soon.

That silent question rang in MK’s ears again. What if Red Son truly didn’t want to be his friend anymore? What if, with this project, he would sever his ties with MK and Mei and redraw the lines in the sand back to where they once were? Even if MK loved Red Son, he couldn’t just let him get away with whatever Princess Iron Fan was planning. But did MK have it in him to fight Red Son again? 

Great. This kidnapping somehow got even more complicated.

The good news was MK had an idea of where Red Son’s workshop was based on his memories of Red Son’s tour and his own personal snooping from that evening. The bad news was, he would have to be even sneakier to get to it, and he still hadn’t learned how to transform into anything sneakier than a spider. 

Trying his best to keep his fervent chanting of ew ew ew ew ew under wraps, MK turned into a spider and crawled through the Demon Bull Fortress, slipping down stairs and crawling across hallways until he finally found the familiar heavy metal door of Red Son’s workshop. 

MK slipped through a tiny crack from beneath the workshop door, squeezing his gross spider butt to make it through. MK stuck his tongue out in disgust. He really had to learn how to transform into something less gross. 

Ok. MK shut his eyes and took a deep breath. I'm in. Now I just need to grab Red Son, get out, get to Mei so we can all go kart-racing, and convince Red Son to hopefully not stop being our friend, so I don’t have to fight the guy I’m super in love with. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. I got this. Yeah.  Yeah. He opened his eyes, a determined smile on his face. Let’s do this. 

MK pushed aside his fears and transformed back. “Hey Red Son! Who’s ready for some platonic kidnapp-?!”

A low, miserable groan cut MK off. 

MK blinked, taking in his surroundings now. The workshop was large and expansive, with tools hanging over the walls, blueprints rolled up in baskets and bookshelves, and sheets of scrap metal laying on top of different work surfaces. The largest work surface, a large metal table, was completely bare save for a flickering holographic screen showing an article about…a flower? Wait, wasn’t that the one flower Sandy used to make tea for him when he ate those cursed meatballs-?

MK heard someone groan again, a bit louder now. He turned his head to the noise to see Red Son on the other side of the room, lying on the floor in clear pain. 

“Red Son?” MK dashed to him. He crouched over Red Son, who didn’t at all stir as he spoke. “Are you alright? You look, uh….”

He looked terrible. Locks of hair stuck to his face from the sweat dripping on his face. His eyes were closed shut as he panted, a bit of drool running down his cheek. Red Son let out another groan, seemingly oblivious to MK's intrusion. 

“Okay. Let’s get you up, dude.” MK began to reach down to grab Red Son by the shoulders. “Maybe we can get you something to drink before-OW!” 

As MK tried to lift Red Son up, some of his hair had grazed the side of MK’s hand. The few times MK had made accidental contact with Red Son’s hair, it had never been this hot. Sure, Red Son could set himself on fire, but something about the heat that emanated from him seemed…off. 

MK pulled his hand away with a jolt, blowing on his fingers. “That wasn’t on purpose, right?”

Red Son moaned, rolling to his side. He was now curled up in a fetal position, clutching his stomach. His lip was curled into a grimace as sweat dripped down his forehead.

“Hey, are you alright?” Slowly, MK sat Red Son up, trying his best not to let his fingers touch Red Son’s skin or hair. Mk continued to question Red Son as his eyes finally began to shudder open. “What happened? Do you need me to grab anything? I can get your parents if you want, or maybe one of your bull clones? I need you to talk to me, Red Son. Red Son?” 

Red Son stared at MK with a seemingly baffled expression. He blinked slowly, pupils dilated to an almost unnatural degree. 

Slowly, Red Son tilted his head and squinted. “Noodle Boy?” 

Red Son then promptly threw up onto himself.

“OK!” MK jumped up. He needed something to clean up the mess, now. MK began to run around through the workshop to find something to wipe Red Son’s face. “Wow, you’re really sick, huh? Is that why you haven’t been talking to us? You could’ve just said so.” 

Red Son leaned his head back, smacking his head into the wall a bit too hard for it not to hurt. “...Jimson.” He murmured. 

“What?” MK pulled his head out of a cabinet to look at Red Son.

Red Son lifted a hand to a trash can in the corner, babbling. “Crimson…smoke…thirty minutes...” He started to wipe the vomit off his mouth when MK smacked his hand away.

“Don’t use your hand! You’ll just get more dirty!” MK tried to wipe Red Son’s mouth clean with the towel only for Red Son to lean away, gagging.

“That’s my oil rag!” Red Son rolled his head away from the towel.

“Well, that’s the only towel I could find-wait. Bathroom.” MK moved Red Son away from his chest so he could look at him. “Red Son. You have a bathroom with running water. Water doesn’t hurt you, does it?” 

Red Son stuck his tongue out like a toddler. “Eugh...” 

MK frowned. “Is that a yes, ooor-”

“No, it doesn’t hurt, but, but,” Red Son tilted his head, staring at MK like he grew another head. “Why’re you here?”

MK didn’t really have time to answer that. Not when Red Son’s skin was practically steaming. 

MK knew how to take care of sick people. Whenever Tang came down with the flu, he and Pigsy would head over with noodles and medicine/ MK would toss a thousand blankets on top of Tang and only slightly complain whenever Tang asked him to fiddle with the thermostat. And when Pigsy collapsed from exhaustion once a year and Tang forced him to take a sick day, MK would quickly become a bednurse, wiping Pigsy’s face with a cold towel. So seeing Red Son like this, MK’s mind raced to those days as he tried to figure out the best way to take care of Red Son.

“Look, you’re running way hotter than is probably healthy even for a fire demon and you threw up all over your coat. We need to get you cleaned up and cooled down.” MK approached Red Son slowly. “I’m pretty sure if I touch your bare skin or hair, you’re going to burn me, so I need you to work with me here. Just don’t…don’t wiggle too much or anything.” 

Red Son stared at MK, eyes darting from MK's face to his slowly approaching hands. He seemed hesitant to trust whatever MK was planning. To be fair, MK felt the same way. 

Before he could second guess himself, MK scooped his hands under Red Son’s knees and back and lifted him up. 

Red Son yelped in surprise, hands gripping MK’s jacket so tightly he could smell it start to smoke. Even with the layer of clothes between them, MK could feel just how much Red Son’s skin burned. He gripped Red Son tighter and ran out the workshop.

“Okay, I sort of remember your bathroom, but I’m still gonna need your help. Where do I go from here?” MK’s hands trembled, the heat starting to get to him as he ran down the hall. 

“Uhm, it should be up those-those steps?” Red Son pointed one hand towards a staircase. “Fourth story, to the left, three doors down. Two doors down? Three doors down.”

In his delirium, Red Son somehow sounded less sure than MK. But, MK couldn’t afford to question those directions. “Fourth story, to the left, three doors down, got it!” Adjusting Red Son in his arms, MK bolted up the steps. 

All that time training had paid off, thankfully. MK was able to run up the stairs to the bathroom with relative ease. The only thing he had to worry about was the oppressive heat that Red Son radiated, the smoke which burned his nostrils, the way Red Son stared at MK like he still couldn’t believe he was there. 

MK kicked the bathroom door open. It was just as luxurious as MK remembered. The bathroom was massive, warm candles lighting the room in a comforting glow. A tub took up the majority of the space, and against the wall MK could see a large control panel for it with all sorts of different settings. Soaps and oils with rare ingredients filled the shelves. The towels that hung on shiny copper hooks looked impossibly soft. The toilet seat probably cost more than MK’s whole apartment. 

MK lay Red Son on the soft scarlet bath mat to turn on the bathtub. Red Son groaned, leaning back against the cabinet. As the tub began to fill with ice cold water, MK grabbed one of the fluffy hand towels which hung over the sink, dipping it into the bath to dampen it. 

MK crouched down in front of Red Son. He began to dab at the now-dry vomit on Red Son’s chin, but Red Son was making it way harder. He kept squirming away, sticking his tongue out and even hissing at the wet towel.

MK grunted as he tried to clean Red Son’s face. “Dude, come on, I need you to hold still.”

“It’s so wet.” Red Son gagged, lips recoiled in disgust as MK cleaned his jaw. Luckily, however, Red Son seemed to give up, sighing and leaning into the towel. It probably felt nice to have something cold against his skin. 

“If you hate water so much, how do you shower?” MK asked. “You…you do shower , right?”

“Of course I do!” Red Son shouted. He grumbled, jutting his bottom lip out into a pout. “Doesn’t mean I enjoy it.” 

MK couldn’t help but laugh, affection growing in his chest. Even like this, Red Son was still adorable. 

He placed the hand towel on the sink counter. Someone would probably take care of it, right? Yeah, yeah, there were bull clones everywhere for that sort of stuff. “Take off your coat? I need to clean it.”

Red Son obeyed, struggling a bit to pull his arms out the sleeves. Eventually though, he got it off, and MK was able to lay Red Son’s coat over the sink. He let a steam of hot water run over the vomit stains. MK would get to it later. Right now, he had a much more pressing matter to attend to. 

“Alright. I know you just told me you hate water,” MK turned Red Son, clasping his hands together with a strained smile. “But, I’m going to need you to get into the tub.” 

Red Son’s eyes went wider than noodle bowls. He turned his head to look at the tub, now nearly filled with water. MK could see Red Son’s mouth hang ajar as he turned back to face him. 

No, not face him. Red Son was looking behind MK, but why would he do that? All that was behind MK was the door-

Red Son scrambled for the exit on all fours. 

It took several minutes of shouting and chasing the surprisingly slippery Red Son around the bathroom before MK finally grabbed him. MK latched his arms around Red Son’s waist and pulled him from the ground. Red Son screeched, trying to pry MK’s arms off him. His skin was so hot it hurt to hold him, but at this point MK didn’t care. With a mighty heave, MK tossed Red Son into the bath.

The water splashed out the tub, covering the tiles in a thin sheen. Red Son floundered for a bit, thrashing his arms and legs beneath the water’s surface before emerging with a loud gasp. His ponytail had lost all its gravity-defying heat, now clinging to the back of Red Son’s neck. Red Son shuddered, aggressively trying to wipe the water off his steaming arms. 

MK snorted, trying his best to hide his laughter. Even Mo likes water more than him. 

Red Son caught MK’s gaze and glared at him. “You didn’t even take off my clothes. They’re all clingy and wet and…and eugh. ” He wrinkled his nose, tugging at the collar of his turtleneck.

“Sorry, sorry. I figured you’d want some privacy.” MK laughed, holding his hand out. “I probably should take your glasses though.” 

Red Son huffed, taking the glasses off his nose and placing them in MK’s hand. His fingers grazed MK’s palm, and MK was relieved to see that his temperature had lowered. It still wasn’t quite his normal inhumanly-hot body temperature, but MK wasn’t worried about getting a first degree burn. Red Son, however, seemed to jolt at the touch, pulling his hand back with a squeak. His reaction surprised MK, but he didn’t think much of it as he put Red Son’s glasses in his pant pocket. Red Son was clearly sensitive right now.

MK knelt down in front of the tub, arms crossed over the rim. He dipped his fingers into the water. To his surprise, the temperature had gone from ice cold to lukewarm. Was Red Son really that hot? 

“Ugh,” Red Son’s disgust caught MK’s attention. He had pulled his hair tie out. All the volume in his hair that made it defy gravity was gone now. His hair was so soaked it looked straight. “You didn’t need to do this,” he complained. 

“I mean, maybe.” MK leaned over the rim. “But, you were burning up, and I know a cold bath helps with that. You’re feeling a bit cooler, right?” 

Red Son lifted a finger to retort, but nothing came out his mouth. His face contorted in frustration over the realization that actually, yes, the bath was helping. So, Red Son opted to take his hair tie and throw it. It lightly hit the center of MK’s chest before flopping onto the wet tiles.

“Just because it helped doesn’t mean you should've done it.” Red Son snapped. 

“Uh, how does that make any sense?” MK tilted his head. “Why wouldn’t I try to help you?” 

Rather than respond, Red Son turned away from MK with a huff. He could swear he heard Red Son mumble a litany of insults under his breath, but he chose not to worry about it. It actually kind of relieved MK that Red Son was acting so catty. MK still wasn’t sure what was going on with Red Son, but at least he was feeling good enough to banter. That had to be a good sign, right? It meant that he had some energy in him, and that energy could be put to getting better. Plus, he hadn’t told MK to leave him alone, so maybe it was a sign that Red Son still wanted to be friends. At least, MK hoped so. 

MK let Red Son mope in the bathtub while he worked over the sink, scrubbing at the vomit stains on Red Son’s coat. If Red Son were coherent enough to see him pouring fancy soaps over his expensive coat, he’d probably get so angry the bath water would evaporate, but luckily Red Son seemed to stare at MK without any real focus, arms resting over the bath tub’s rim. 

“Alright, you’re going to have to show me where you put your laundry later.” MK turned off the sink and leaned the coat against the counter. Red Son only hummed in response as MK kneeled down in front of the bath tub’s spout, which was still pouring ice cold water into the near-full tub.

MK picked up a small, white-gold basin which sat at the foot of the tub. “Lean your head down?” 

Red Son obeyed, and after letting the basin fill with cold water MK slowly poured the contents over his head. Red Son’s hair steamed, his skin sizzling at the temperature. 

Red Son groaned. “I should wash my hair.” He tried to blow his bangs away from his eyes. They were so wet that the tuft of actually functioned like bangs now, covering most of Red Son’s face.

“Or maybe not.” Red Son shrugged, parting his hair so he could better see. “I’m dying regardless." 

“You’re not dying, dude.” MK held the basin over the faucet spout. “But if you want, I can wash your hair.” 

The water in the bathtub began to boil. 

“Whoa!” MK pressed a button on the wall to let the water drain. “Dude, you’re gonna cook yourself, calm down!”

Red Son had slid to the other side of the tub, his face now matching his name. “You want to wash my hair?!” 

“I mean, yeah? If you’re worried this bath’s gonna mess your hair up, I sort of feel obligated to fix it. I did toss you in here.” MK laughed. “I might want to wait until you stop boiling the water though.”

Red Son turned his back to MK. He murmured to himself, a slurry of words a bit too soft and incoherent for MK to understand, but judging from Red Son’s tone, he seemed annoyed that Mk had even offered.

MK was about to take it back when Red Son sighed. Tension in his shoulders dropped, as if Red Son had a boulder lifted from his back. “...My shampoo is the red bottle.” 

MK blinked, glancing up at the various shelves above the bathtub. Sure enough, on one of them sat a large, expensive looking red bottle. He looked back down to see Red Son looking behind him to stare at MK expectantly, his fingers combing through his hair. 

A warm smile grew on MK’s face. “Heard you loud and clear, bud.” He stood up to grab the red bottle. “Sit up and move a bit closer.” 

MK was surprised that Red Son had given in so easily to having his hair touched. Mei had offered to style it nearly every time they hung out, and each time Red Son would bark at her to keep her “peasant hands” off his hair. But MK barely needed to push him and he was already moving his hair behind his back for MK to have better access. Was he really that sick? 

“Okay, I’m gonna run a quick rinse of cold water over your head, and then I’ll start. Sounds good?” MK lifted the basin to the faucet spout. Red Son nodded wordlessly. His body temperature was cooling down, thankfully. His hair didn’t sizzle the way it did before when MK poured the water over his head. 

MK opened the shampoo bottle and squeezed the contents into his hand. The shampoo was thick, golden, and shimmering. He leaned over the bath tub’s rim. “Tell me if you need me to stop.” For some reason, he whispered those words, as if this act was too sacred to be loud while doing it. 

The moment MK’s fingers touched his scalp, Red Son flinched. MK moved his hands away, worried that he hurt Red Son, only for him to let out a whine. “Why’d you stop?!”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m not stopping!” MK laughed. “But, really, you gotta let me know if this is too much for you.” He ran his hands through Red Son’s roots. He could see Red Son’s face scrunch up in surprise, but he didn’t seem uncomfortable. In fact, as MK continued to work the shampoo into Red Son’s hair, he seemed to lean into the touch, his breaths becoming slow, heavy, and relaxed. 

As MK leaned Red Son’s head back to get a better angle, Red Son stared up at him with sleepy eyes, blinking slowly. There was a small, content smile on his face. MK didn’t think he’d ever seen that expression on Red Son’s face before. Red Son’s smiles usually ranged from a maniacal grin to a hidden curl of his lip, but this felt softer, like Red Son’s inhibitions were being uncoiled with each knot MK untangled from his hair. 

It occurred to MK, suddenly, how intimate this moment was. A blush ran up his cheeks at the realization, but Red Son didn't seem to care. He just grinned, dreamily at MK as he washed Red Son's hair. 

This…was nice. 

It was a bit overwhelming, sure. Red Son couldn’t remember the last time another person’s hands were running through his hair like this. Maybe when he was a toddler? Before he learned to wash himself? 

But, it was nice. 

MK’s fingers worked themselves into Red Son’s roots. Every now and then, his nails would scratch at his scalp and it’d send a shock down his nervous system. Red Son didn’t mind it though. He leaned into the touch, a lazy smile stretched on his face. 

Red Son looked up at MK as he worked. His vision had blurred considerably from the crimson jimsonweed smoke, but he could recognize the Noodle Boy anywhere. He still had that ridiculous hair style, and that traffic-cone colored coat, and a grin that haunted Red Son’s lonely evenings. He was unmistakable. 

What was MK doing here? He shouldn’t be here. He was supposed to be kart-racing with Mei right now. If MK was actually here, his parents would probably have found out by now, wouldn’t they? Or at the very least, one of the bull clones would have alerted the other staff. There was no way he could possible be here.

But Red Son could feel MK’s hands working into his hair, couldn’t he? And MK had carried him up here, had cleaned his face, had thrown him into this atrocious tub full of water. MK was taking care of Red Son. When was the last time someone had taken care of Red Son? Since he was a child? Before he had to learn to care for himself? 

It was so nice. Red Son could live in the feeling of MK’s care forever. It was certainly a good distraction from his burning skin, his foggy brain, the doom which whispered to him in stanzas of half-remembered puffy poetry about death from the crimson jimsonweed, about the images which haunted you into Diyu. 

MK began to wash the shampoo out of Red Son’s hair, using one hand to pour water out of the basin and the other to block the soap from slipping down into his eyes. It was a small act, but one that showed a careful attention to detail that MK rarely showed to anything at all. It was the sort of sweet gesture that told Red Son he was cared for by MK, that he was loved. 

And wasn’t that what had been haunting him for weeks now? Love? 

Images that haunt you/Will carry your soul down/And pass you to ten kings

“Oh.” He whispered. “I see.” 

MK smiled down at him. “What’s up?” 

The candles that hung on the bathroom wall seem to fan MK's face with warmth and light. It almost looked like the light was bursting out from him, like MK's body could only barely contain all the lights in the heavens. But, maybe that was just Red Son's delirious, slowly-dying brain seeing what he always thought of MK. 

“I’m hallucinating.” Red Son murmured. 

MK’s smile flickered. He leaned closer to Red Son, close enough for Red Son to make out a concerned frown, a wrinkle forming between two furrowed eyebrows. “You’re…hallucinating?” 

Red Son nodded. MK ran his fingers through Red Son’s hair. The feel of his hands threading through Red Son’s locks was so comforting he could almost forgive himself for thinking it was real. 

“What…what’re you hallucinating?” MK asked slowly. 

Red Son raised his hand out of the tub to touch the tuft of hair MK always let flop over his headband. It was soft against his fingers, like threads of silk. MK’s hand clasped around his wrist. Red Son knew his skin was burning hot, but MK didn’t seem to mind, squeezing him slightly as if to reassure him, to ground him. 

It was just a little too nice for Red Son to believe it was real. 

“You’re here.” Red Son whispered. “And you’re acting like you love me.” 

Uhhhhhhhhhh-

When Red Son had sleepily told MK he was hallucinating, he had started to get worried. His mind raced to a thousand different ideas of what Red Son could be seeing right now. But he didn’t expect…. that.  

“Um, I’m not a hallucination, Red.” MK said. “I’m pretty sure hallucinations can’t touch you. Or anything, really. Part of the reason why they’re in your head.” 

“Mystic hallucination.” Red Son shrugged, as if this somehow explained everything. 

“Okay, I don’t know enough about mystic hallucinations to refute that, but that doesn’t mean I’m a mystic hallucination.” MK retorted. “Why would you even think you’re hallucinating?” 

“It’s one of the symptoms.” Red Son lowered himself into the tub, his face poking out the surface of the water. “The poems say so.” 

Was that how bad Red Son’s illness was? Was a mystic hallucination really that less of a stretch than MK actually coming over? And where did poetry come from? Did Red Son even read poetry? 

“Well, what makes you think I’m a hallucination?” MK continued to work the shampoo out of Red Son’s hair. 

“You would’ve been caught by my parents. Or the bull clones.” Red Son reasoned. “More likely my parents.” 

“Uhh, maybe I’m just that stealthy.” MK bragged, leaning over Red Son with a grin. “Have you considered that?” 

“You? Stealthy? ” Sick Red Son didn’t lose any of his snark. “You blew a hole in my house last time you were here.” 

“Hey, that was Mei and Sandy, I did a great job of stealthing!” MK splashed some of the water as he raised his hands in protest. “I literally snatched the ring of Samadhi from right under your dad’s nose.” MK chose to tactfully ignore the fact that DBK woke up mid-ring snatching and nearly tackled the getaway car. 

Red Son laughed, covering his mouth as a few unseemly snorts slipped out his mouth. They made MK’s heart leap a little. “I’ll give you this.” Red Son flicked the hanging tuft of MK’s hair with a dazed smile. “You’re as amusing as the real thing.” He lifted his hand up towards one of the shelves above the bath and pretended to grab a bottle, clenching and unclenching his fingers. “Conditioner is white.” 

MK stood up to grab Red Son’s conditioner, opening the lid of the white bottle with a pop. “I’m going to pretend that you only don’t believe in my amazing stealth skills because you’re sick.” 

“Not sick.” Red Son shut his eyes, sitting up and sloshing the contents of the bathtub around. “Dying.” 

“You're not going to die,” MK sighed, kneeling back down over the tub. “I've got you!” He poured some of the conditioner into his hands before rubbing it into the ends of Red Son’s hair. 

“That’s another reason.” Red Son pointed his finger up into the air. His arms were just a bit too weak to properly raise it, so he leaned his elbow against the tub. “You’re acting so…” Red Son’s hands danced in the air as if trying to grab the answer from nothing. “ Nice. ” 

MK was starting to worry Red Son’s illness was beyond his medical expertise. “Do I… not act nice?” 

“No, no, no, you’re always nice to me, all the time.” Red Son rolled his head back to look at MK. “It drives me mad.” Red Son said this was such intensity, eyes boring into MK’s. He wasn’t sure what exactly Red Son was trying to imply with it. 

“This is…different, though.” Red Son said as MK stood up to return the shampoo and conditioner to its shelf. “It’s too..” He splashed the water with his hands as if that would somehow make his point for him. 

“I mean, what else was I supposed to do?” MK sat down again. “You were lying on your workshop floor and when I asked if you were okay you threw up all over yourself. If anyone I knew was in your state, I’d do the same for them.” 

Red Son scowled. “I know . You’re a hero, n’ you’re good . It’s just that you shouldn’t be doing this for me.”  

“Why’s that?” MK began to fill the basin with cold water again to give Red Son’s ends a wash-through. “Do you really think I’m just that bad at being stealthy?” 

“I want this.” 

Red Son’s answer almost made MK drop the basin. He whipped his head around to look at Red Son. 

Red Son’s head was leaning against the bathtub rim, staring up at the ceiling, eyes wide but without real focus. “I want this. But it can’t be happening. So, because it is happening, it means you can't be real.” Red Son rolled his head over to the side to look at MK. His eyes bore into MK, a fierce and powerful emotion brewing underneath them. 

There were two parts of Red Son’s hallucination. He’d said so himself. It wasn’t just that he was seeing MK. It was that MK was…he was…

“Red Son.” MK put the basin down. “Earlier, you said, I was acting like I loved you.” He moved closer to Red Son, leaning over him. His hands shook as they hovered over either side of Red Son’s face. “Do you…do you want me to?” 

Red Son didn’t say anything. But his lip quivered, his cheeks flushed, his eyes grew wide with a flurry of emotions that passed too quickly for MK to name. He took one of MK’s hands in his, pressing it against his cheek. He shut his eyes and sighed at the touch, like all the tension he carried leaked away when MK’s hands were on him. 

Red Son didn’t need to say anything at all. 

“I’m real, Red Son." Mk breathed out. "And I’m not acting like I love you.” MK cupped Red Son's face, his thumbs swiping across his cheeks. “I don’t need to act like I love you. I…I do.” 

Mk's heart hammered in his chest at the confession, heat rushing up the back of his neck and ears. He really never expected to tell Red Son about his feelings. Just a few hours ago, he wasn’t even sure if Red Son wanted to be his friend– confessing had become an increasingly bittersweet fantasy. 

But as Red Son clung to MK’s hand, he couldn’t help it. The truth poured out of him, hot and terrifying. He leaned his head closer to Red Son’s, his body flooding with so much love that he had to spill it over. “I love you.” 

Red Son stared up at MK, mouth slightly open in the tiniest “o.” His eyes were wide, already-dilated pupils now so large that they seemed to take over his irises entirely. The water around Red Son began to steam. 

But then, he smiled. A chuckle escaped his lips. “Heavens,” Red Son took both his hands and placed them on either side of MK’s cheeks, fingers, grazing his ears. “The poems never said I’d see something this terrible.”

MK was about to question Red Son about what exactly he’d been reading when, to his horror, tears welled up in Red Son’s eyes. MK panicked, opening his mouth to try and cover his tracks and take back his confession to stop Red Son from crying. But then, Red Son’s hands dipped down, thumbs grazing the lower half of MK's face like they were searching for something.

“Ah, well.” When Red Son’s thumbs ran across his lips, they rested along the corners. “I’ll take a haunting over nothing.” 

Red Son lowered MK’s face down to his, lifting his head up to meet him. MK’s eyes widened as he realized what exactly Red Son was trying to do. 

“Wait, wait, wait!” MK wrenched his head from Red Son’s grasp. “I-I’m not going to kiss you!”

Not like this. Not while a tear was rolling down Red Son’s cheek, his skin still hot from disease,  delirium dripping from his lips. Not when Red Son couldn’t even believe MK was real, that MK could love him back. Red Son deserved a better kiss than that. 

Red Son laid there for a moment, hands still held out in front of him, expression hazy with confusion. But then, his eyes widened and his lips twitched into a frown. “Oh.” 

Red Son sat up. With one hand, he reached out to turn off the water. He wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand. "How pathetic." A laugh escaped his lips, miserable and hollow. “I can’t even hallucinate an MK who’d kiss me.” Red Son buried his face in his hands. 

“Red, that’s not-” MK reached out, trying to explain, but Red Son abruptly stood up. Sheets of water poured off his limbs as he clambered out the bathtub. He stepped past MK, glancing at himself in the mirror. Red Son took a deep breath and fire swirled around him, drying him instantly. However, using his fire powers must have been too much for his weakened body, because his legs shook and he stumbled over himself. 

MK jumped up to catch Red Son, hooking his arms under Red Son’s shoulders. 

He thrashed against MK . “Don’t touch me!” Red Son yelled. 

“You shouldn’t use your powers right now, Red, you’re gonna hurt yourself!” MK gripped the back of Red Son’s turtleneck. 

“Don’t act like you care. ” Red Son hissed. “You’re not real. You’re just haunting me.”

“I do care!’ MK exclaimed. “And I’m not an illusion, it’s really me!” 

Red Son ignored MK, shaking as he shuddered out, “I can’t even pretend he wants me.” His hands clenched around the back of MK’s jacket. “But it’s good. It’s good that I can’t. I shouldn’t indulge in such foolish things. I shouldn't want him in the first place." 

Red Son’s words swirled through Mk’s mind, making his head spin. Red Son wanted this? Wanted him? He could tell from the flush of his cheeks and the cling of his hands that Red Son at the very least wanted MK to love him. But how much did Red Son love him? 

And did Red Son really think MK couldn’t want him back? That the most he could have was hallucinations in a bathtub? Could Red Son not see the way MK always seemed to look his way, to respond to his calls, to revolve around him? Did he not realize how magnetizing he was? 

No, MK couldn't let that stand. He needed Red Son to know that he real, and that he wanted this just as much, maybe even more. 

“Red Son, I want to kiss you, but I’m not going to kiss you like this.” MK propped Red Son up so he was properly standing. Despite Red Son yelling at MK to get off him, he refused to loosen his own grip on MK’s jacket. “I mean, for one, you’re sick.” 

“I already told you, I’m not sick.” Red Son sneered, baring his teeth. 

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, you’re dying , point is, I don’t want what you’re having. More importantly though,” MK looked down at Red Son, trying to keep his own tears from bubbling up. “I’m not going to kiss you when you don’t even think I’m real.” 

“But you’re not real,” Red Son groaned. “And I’m not going to get better.” He began to stand up straight now, shoulders hunched over as his hands ran up MK’s face. His skin was still so hot. 

“Yeah I am, And, yeah you will.” MK gripped Red Son’s wrists. “I don’t know how to prove that to you, but I am real . I’m not going to kiss you tonight, but that’s because I love you. And I want you to kiss me knowing that I do.” Red Son’s lip quivered in a wide frown as steaming tears ran down his cheek.

“Don’t cry, dude. I’ll cry.” MK reached out and swiped the hot tears from Red Son’s face. “Look I’ll make it up to you, okay?” His hands dropped down to rest next to Red Son’s neck, thumbs grazing his collar bone. “Once you’re all better, you can text me to come over and kiss you.” 

“Kiss you when?” Red Son sniffled. 

“Whenever you want.” MK smiled now. “You could be in your workshop, or driving around the desert, or maybe if you just need moral support for your shower-”

“I’m not scared of water.” Red Son deadpanned.  

MK continued. “Whenever you want me to kiss you, I’ll do it. Even if I’m working a shift for Pigsy’s, or training with the Monkey King. You shoot me a text, and I’ll be there in ten minutes flat to kiss you.”

“You can’t… possibly promise something like that.” To MK’s immense relief, Red Son’s lip began to curl up into a smile. 

“Sure I can!” MK grinned, hands shifting so his fingers could interlock behind Red Son’s neck. “Y’know what, I’ll sweeten the deal: if you text me to come kiss you, and I don’t make it in ten minutes, you can give me a punishment.” 

Red Son snorted. “A punishment? Like what?” 

“I dunno.” MK shrugged. He gave Red Son a wide, playful smile. “But, I’m sure you have plenty of ideas of how you’d want to punish me.” 

Red Son sputtered, face flushing as the tips of his hair sparked. “That’s-you’re-it’s-” 

“I mean, you were my enemy for a while right? You had to have some things from back then that you’d want me to do now.” MK reasoned. “Like maybe washing your cars, or writing ‘Monkey King Sucks’ on my forehead or something.” 

Red Son’s eyes bugged out as MK spoke. He looked bashful now, his grip on MK’s jacket looser as he stuttered quietly. “Oh. Tha-that’s what you-Oh.” 

MK laughed. “Uh, yeah? What did you think I meant-”

Oh. 

Oh. 

Oh???

Red Son had suddenly become very stiff. MK’s eyes widened as he stared at Red Son, whose cheeks and ears were flushed crimson. He was trying very hard not to meet MK’s gaze. 

“Red Son.” MK’s jaw dropped. 

“Don’t,” Red Son turned his head away from MK, his hair steaming. 

“Red Son.” MK’s mouth curled into a grin. “I’m gonna be honest, I didn’t think you had that in you.” 

“I said don’t! ” Red Son shouted. He covered his face with his hands. “Delirium is one of the symptoms–!” 

“Listen, we’re adults who just established that we’re into each other. I’m not judging you, but–” MK was grinning now, pulling Red Son’s hands from his face so he could see his flustered expression. “I do have questions.” 

“Don’t act like you’re so innocent!” Red Son narrowed his eyes with a snarl. “You wrapped your arms around my neck and told me to punish you!” 

“Yeah, but you’re the one who chose to interpret it weird, this is your own fault!” MK shouted. He gave Red Son a playful grin, poking his cheekbone. “Maybe I won’t come in ten minutes, I’m curious now.” 

Red Son let out a strangled noise, staring up at the ceiling in agony. 

“Okay, okay, you’re flaring up.” MK unraveled himself from Red Son, wetting another towel in the cold sink water. “Didn’t mean to get you, uh" MK tried to cover his hand with his mouth as he chuckled. "Hot and bothered.” He handed the towel to Red Son with a smirk. Red Son snatched the towel away from MK, covering his face as he literally steamed from the humiliation.

“I’m serious though.” MK said, turning off the sink. “When you’re feeling better, I’ll kiss you whenever you want.” 

“You’re a hallucination.” Red Son’s voice was muffled from the towel. “Even if I survive this, it doesn’t mean you’ll actually kiss me.” 

“Well then, let’s come up with a code.” MK said. He pushed the towel up so he could see Red Son’s flushed face. “So then, when you text the code to me, I’ll either ask you what you’re talking about, or come over to kiss you. That way, you can ask me to kiss you without worrying that you’re accidentally confessing to the real MK. Even though, you already did, because I am real, and when you send the code I’m going to kiss you-“ 

 “Where’s my hair tie?” Red Son cut MK off, squinting at the ground. 

Uh. That wasn’t really the response he expected. “Is that the code?” MK asked. 

“No, no, my hair tie.” He pulled his hair back, its buoyancy now returned. “Where did it go?” 

“It’s somewhere on the floor because you threw it at me. Which, rude.” MK crouched down to inspect the bathroom floor. “Why do you care about your hair tie now anyways?” 

“I’m about to throw up.” Red Son replied. 

MK blanched, whipping his head around. Red Son’s unfocused gaze stared back at MK. He covered his hand with his mouth and began to gag. 

MK never ran faster in his life. 

Red Son heaved into the toilet, gripping the rim so tightly MK worried he would snap the porcelain. MK wasn’t able to find Red Son’s hair tie, so he used one hand to hold Red Son’s hair back while using the other to rub Red Son’s back. 

“That’s it, bud. Get it all out of your system.” MK whispered softly. Red Son gagged for a couple more seconds before flushing the toilet. 

MK helped Red Son stand up. “Clean yourself up while I grab some things. We can get you ready for bed, okay?” 

Red Son turned on the faucet. MK could hear him complain under his breath about, “taking orders from a hallucination like some peasant,” but he still proceeded to wash his mouth over the sink. 

MK tucked the damp coat under his arms. He gathered the towels he’d used to clean Red Son and filled the basin with cold water one last time before turning off the bath. “Was your room on this floor or the one below it?” 

“This floor. Floor above is my parents.” Red Son turned off the sink. He turned to MK. “My room is at the end of the-” Suddenly, Red Son paled. “Those are Mother’s towels.” 

“What?” MK looked down at the towels he held in his hand. 

“Only Father and Mother use towels. And those are Mother’s towels.” Red Son explained. MK lifted the towels up, inspecting them closer. Huh. Now that he looked at them properly, the little iron fans embroidered in the corners probably should have given that away. 

“It’ll be fine.” MK reassured Red Son. “Not like she’s gonna get mad, is she?”  

“I don’t know.” Red Son seemed to stare off in the distance, tone low and troubled. “I’ve never used her towels before.” 

That answer was…concerning, but MK tried to keep the mood light. “You needed a way to clean up and cool down. I’m sure she won’t mind.” 

MK began to head out the bathroom when Red Son whipped him around, gripping him by the shoulders. “They don’t know about this, right?”

MK looked between Red Son’s hands and his panicked face. “Uhh, what?” 

“My parents. They don’t know about me, do they?” Red Son seemed genuinely concerned. 

“I don’t think so?” MK responded, frazzled by the question. “When I found you, you were lying on the floor about to throw up so…I’d kind of hope they didn’t know?” 

Red Son sighed with relief, tension rolling off his shoulders. “Good.” He let go of MK, opening the bathroom door to leave. 

“Uhhh, but you probably should tell them, right?” MK trailed behind Red Son as the two walked down the hall. 

“No,” Red Son leaned his hand against the wall as he walked. “I don’t need to let them know I failed them again.” 

MK ducked under Red Son’s arm, laying it against his shoulders. Red Son leaned into MK, his fingers playing with MK’s jacket zipper chain.  “Uhh, getting sick isn’t failing your parents, Red Son.” 

“I didn’t complete the project.” Red Son retorted. “So, I failed.” 

The project. MK remembered now, the different screens going over articles of a flower, Princess Iron Fan's sinister smile as she whispered to her husband. Was Red Son working on his project when he suddenly got sick, or was he trying to work through his illness like Pigsy did?

MK was about to ask what that was all about when Red Son leaned his head against MK. His hair was flattened by Red Son’s cheek. Red Son chuckled, burying his nose deeper into MK’s hair. “You even got his smell right." he hummed, voice so delirious MK almost thought he sounded affectionate. "Cheap deodorant and noodle broth.” 

“Hey!” MK pouted as Red Son opened the door to his bedroom. “I’ll have you know my deodorant smells great and the noodles smell delicious, and Mei says it’s because I’m literally and figuratively a snack.” 

Red Son slipped out of MK’s grasp towards his luxurious looking bed while MK put down the coat, towels, and basin of water. “And I didn’t ‘get the smell right’ or whatever, because I’m the reaaAAAA WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” 

Red Son poked his head out from his turtleneck, which he had pulled off his torso and was now bunched up around his biceps. MK tried very, very hard to look only at Red Son’s face, and not his slender collarbone or lithe torso or the mole that sat in the space between his waist and hips

Red Son raised an eyebrow, puzzled by MK’s reaction. “I’m getting ready for bed? You told me that was the plan.” 

MK covered his eyes with his hands. “At least warn me before you start-start-!” 

Red Son scoffed. “Why should I? You’re not actually here.” MK heard the sound of the turtleneck being tossed across the room, followed by the sound of a belt being removed. 

Despite already shutting his eyes and covering them, MK turned his whole body away from Red Son. He tried very, very hard not to think about what was happening behind him. He shouted out to Red Son. “OK, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that I’m very much actually here until you believe me!” 

“You can’t. It’s not possible.” Fabric shuffled and an armoire opened as Red Son continued to change. “The real MK is out kart-racing with the Dragon girl tonight.” 

Oh. Right. The whole reason MK was here in the first place was to get Red Son to go out with him and Mei. Because Red Son had seemingly vanished off the face of the earth, and then he backed out of their plans last minute. He’d been so caught up in making sure Red Son was okay that he sort of forgot about all that. 

Red Son…wanted him. Whatever “wanted” meant ranged from a husband to a hookup, but Red Son did, at the very least, want MK to love him. But, he also hadn’t spoken to MK for a month, so to say the signals were “mixed” was understating it. Surely, if Red Son wanted to be closer with MK, he wouldn’t push him away. And where did Mei fit into all this? As far as he knew, Mei hadn’t done anything wrong, so why cut her off?

MK had been so busy trying to make sure Red Son was okay that he’d forgotten just how much Red Son had hurt him. He had hurt both of them. MK remembered Mei leaping for her phone whenever someone called, light flickering out of her eyes when she saw it wasn’t Red Son’s contact. He remembered staring at his own texts, self-loathing snaking up his back at each new read receipt, insisting that he’d messed up in that car and now he’d lost Red Son forever. When MK and Mei sat on his bed to watch pirated dvds of Monkey Cop, Mei still brought Red Son’s favorite snacks, and MK still made space for him in the bed. And sure, it was fun to be with Mei, but neither could ignore the fact that Red Son was missing. There was no extra weight on the bed, no constant stream of complaints about the movie, no warmth which seemed to raise the whole room’s temperature. There was a sense of loss, an emptiness where Red Son once existed, and MK had been terrified that loss would be permanent. He still was. 

“You can turn around now.” Red Son said. When MK looked, he saw Red Son had changed into a set of white pajamas and a breezy red robe. He was sitting on the bed, wiping sweat off his forehead. 

“It really wasn’t cool of you to cancel on us like that.” MK dipped the vomitless towel into the water basin. “Mei and I have been really worried about you.” 

“I was given a commission by my mother. That’s not something I can just refuse.” Red Son laid down on his bed as MK wrung the towel. “If I had not been given the project on such short notice, I would’ve come. Plus, I let Dragon Girl know I was most likely free next week.” 

MK took his shoes off before climbing into Red Son’s bed. Red Son must have noticed the shift in the mattress, because he tilted his head up to look at MK. When he saw the damp towel in his hand, he wrinkled his nose in repulsion. However, Red Son didn’t move away like before. He let MK dab the towel against his face despite clearly hating it. 

“Yeah, but, you know that’s not the problem, right?” MK swiped the towel across Red Son’s forehead. “You haven’t spoken to us for a month, and then you back out of our plans ten minutes before?”

“But,” Red Son frowned, “I had planned to go. It's just that Mother wanted me to finish our project by Monday.” 

“Yeah, but, how did we know you wouldn't just get another project? What if you just stopped responding again?” MK leaned over to look down at Red Son. “Mei was hoping that if we hung out like usual, you’d be comfortable enough to tell us what was wrong, but when you said you couldn’t make it…” 

MK sighed, running the towel down Red Son’s scarred cheek. “Mei thinks you’re lying about your project to get away from us.” 

Red Son opened his mouth to object, but MK continued. “I never thought you were. If you really wanted to avoid us that badly, I don’t think you would’ve responded at all. But, I don’t really blame her for thinking that either. You’ve scared us, Red. We’re not even sure if you want to be friends anymore. So, when you said you couldn’t make it tonight…” His fingers clenched around the towel, an aching pain running up MK’s chest. “We weren’t sure if you’d ever talk to us again.” 

Red Son looked away from MK, troubled. He was murmuring something to himself, but MK couldn’t quite make out what he was saying. He was clearly trying to think, but he was so sick that it was a struggle for him, his brow furrowed in frustration. 

MK laid the towel aside on the bed’s footboard to run his thumb across Red Son’s scar. The moment MK’s bare hand touched Red Son’s cheek, his expression softened and his murmurs came to a halt. 

“Can I ask you something?” MK spoke in a whisper. 

Red Son nodded his head, leaning into MK’s touch. MK watched Red Son as he shut his eyes, turning his head so MK’s hand cupped his cheek. It made MK’s heart leap into his throat, his lip quivering as he looked at Red Son trying to bury himself into MK’s palm. In the back of his mind, he wondered if his question was ridiculous to ask, now that he knew just how much Red Son wanted him back. “Did you disappear because of me?” 

Red Son flickered his eyes open, staring up at MK. He clicked his tongue with a sneer. “Well, you’re a hallucination. So, no.” 

MK groaned. He was about to weakly argue his legitimacy when Red Son sighed, taking his hand off his cheek to hold between both of his. “If anything, you should know why I stopped talking to MK. Isn’t that the point of your haunting?” 

Red Son’s eyes were half-lidded, unfocused, as if he was lost in a thought MK wasn’t privy to despite his insistence that MK was all in his head. His thumb ran across MK’s knuckles, smoothing over the callouses from training. 

“The last night we spoke, he held my hand just like this.” Red Son squeezed MK’s hand so tight it hurt. A hollow laugh escaped his lips. “How dare he?”

MK remembered that. He was always a touchy person, but that night he indulged his feelings and let himself hold Red Son more tenderly, running his fingers across the back of Red Son’s hands as he thanked him. Had that been too far? Was that really what pushed Red Son to cut him off entirely? 

Age old insecurities began to gnaw at MK. Had he really been the reason Red Son disappeared? Was his affection too much? Red Son seemed to want him, love him even, but he was also sick. He said one of his symptoms was delirium, didn’t he? Maybe he was so loopy he was acting like he wanted MK back. When Red Son got better, he would probably tell MK the truth, that MK wasn’t a worthy friend, much less his object of affections. MK was so quick to latch onto the people he cared about, terrified they would leave for someone more worth their time, and maybe that night Red Son realized how MK felt and decided to do just that-

Something warm and soft pressed against MK’s palm jolting him out of his spiral. It took him a moment to recognize the feeling of lips against his skin. 

Electricity ran up MK’s arm as Red Son pressed feather soft kisses onto MK’s hand. MK could feel his brain start to steam. His skin felt like it was burning. He knew he should move his hand away, but his body was paralyzed by the feel of Red Son’s lips against his palm. 

When MK spoke, his voice came out high pitched and breathy, “Red Son?” 

“I wanted to kiss him.” Red Son whispered into MK’s palm. “I’ve never wanted to kiss anybody before. I wasn’t sure I ever would.” 

Red Son sighed, breath hot as steam against MK’s skin. “But, I can’t. I will not fail my parents more than I already have by wanting to in the first place.” 

He lifted MK’s hand up to stare at it. “You keep telling me you love me, or he loves me, but even if he did, what does it matter? I’m not a hero. I’m not part of his little Monkie Kid gang. I’ve fought against him before, and if my parents tell me I must, I’ll fight against him again.

Red Son shrugged. “I figured if I stopped talking to MK, and stopped spending time with him and Mei doing human things, that’d I’d get over him.” He sighed, putting MK’s hand down to look up at him with a glare. “Which, clearly didn’t work, because I want to kiss you. And you’re not even him.” 

MK took a deep breath, taking everything he just heard in. It wasn’t a full explanation, of course. It didn’t quite tell MK why Red Son had cut off Mei. But it was an explanation. And it was one he could hopefully work with, because Red Son clearly still cared about them. 

Maybe, he and Red Son could talk their feelings out properly. They could decide to stay friends, just so MK’s bed would creak dangerously when they all piled in for movie night. Or maybe, they’d figure something out, weave their way through the obstacles that stood between them, and MK would be able to press Red Son’s warmth against his fingers, against his chest, against his lips. 

But, that was a conversation for when Red wasn’t sick. So for now, MK kept it light, cupping Red Son’s jaw with his hands and giving him a playful smile. “Well, you already know why I can’t kiss you tonight.” 

Red Son frowned at this, eyebrow twitching in irritation. MK laughed, tapping Red Son’s nose and leaning over to get closer to his face. “I told you, I’d kiss you later! You just have to come up with a code.” 

Red Son stared at MK’s finger like he was about to bite it. “I’m not coming up with a code to kiss a hallucination. That’s stupid.” 

MK cradled Red Son’s head, lifting it slightly to place in his lap. “Well, you’re not going to kiss a hallucination. You’re going to kiss me. Plus, the code is meant to prove that I’m real. Kind of the whole point, dude.” 

Red Son huffed, looking away from MK. “Fine. Then you can come up with a stupid code for me to never use.” 

“Why won’t you use it? Didn’t you just say you want to kiss me?” MK grinned, his hands slipping behind Red Son’s ears to scratch him. 

Red Son visibly shivered at this, a pretty shade of pink running up his cheeks. “Noodle Boy.” 

MK laughed, tucking a lock of Red Son’s hair behind his ear. “Alright, alright. How about this? You don’t know my real name yet, right?” 

Red Son blinked. He looked up at MK, baffled. “Of course I do, your name is…is…” Red Son furrowed his brow. MK could see his mind working wildly to try and find an answer. “Well. I suppose I don’t.”

Red Son ran a hand through his bangs, distress visible in his features. “He never even told me his name? ”

“No no no, it's not a big deal, really! Most people don’t know it! I don’t think I’ve told Monkey King either.” MK reassured Red Son. “I don’t really use it much? The only time I hear it is at doctor appointments and when Pigsy is like, super pissed at me. Point is, my real name is usually saved for important stuff, and this,” MK lowered his face closer to Red Son’s and grinned, “Is important to me.” 

Red Son tried his best not to meet MK’s gaze, face flushed. He scoffed. “And how would you know MK’s real name if you’re not real?” 

“Well, that’s the thing.” MK sat up straight. “My name is just rare enough that most people don’t have it. So, if you just text me by my real name, then I’ll either come over to kiss you, or ask who you’re talking about.” 

Red Son furrowed his brow. He put his fist to his mouth, biting on his thumb nail as he thought. After a minute or so, Red Son grew frustrated, gritting his teeth and groaning. “I suppose that’s not an atrocious idea. Let’s see what name my brain comes up with.” 

“You didn’t come up with anything. I chose my name all on my own.” MK huffed. He ran his hands across Red Son’s shoulders, his gaze softening as he looked down at him. “And uh. It’s Xiaotian. Qi Xiaotian.” 

Red Son tilted his head, puzzled. “You named yourself ‘Little Sky?’”

“Uhh, yes and no?” MK laughed. “Yeah, I chose Xiaotian, but I didn’t really mean it as ‘Little Sky.’ I came up with it as a kid, because my last name ‘Qi’ was the simplified version of ‘Qi’ in ‘‘Qitian Dasheng,’ which, you know, is the Monkey King’s title, and little kid me was absolutely down to name himself after him, so I went with ‘Xiaotian’ and it just stuck? So, technically I’m supposed to be named ‘Little Heaven’. I don't really correct people about it though, ‘Little Sky’ is fine.” 

MK hiked his shoulders up, his voice getting higher and higher in pitch the more he explained his name. He liked his name just fine, but it was always just a little embarrassing to admit where it came from. People knew he was into Monkey King, but it always seemed to shock them that MK went out of his way to name himself after the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. As MK watched Red Son’s face contort over his explanation, he figured that Red Son was revolted by the story. 

But Red Son just scoffed, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. “Well, aren’t I just poetic?” 

“Uhh, what?” MK tilted his head in confusion. 

Red Son sat up, shuffling across the bed. “Of course I hallucinate that your real name is ‘Little Heaven.’ As if I’m possibly supposed to believe that’s MK’s real name.” He barked out a laugh. “It’s too perfect.” 

MK sputtered, unsure whether or not he was supposed to be insulted. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Red Son opened up a drawer in his nightstand. “The sky cradles all the celestial lights, doesn’t it? The sun, the moon, the stars,” MK could hear Red Son shuffling through the drawer’s contents, pulling out an ornate golden comb from the drawer. “So of course my dying brain decides to taunt me by calling MK ‘Little Heaven.’” 

He scoffed, tossing the comb behind his back. MK just barely caught it, bouncing between his hands for a moment before finally properly getting a hold of it. Red Son sighed, wrapping his arms around himself. He murmured into his forearm, just loud enough for MK to hear it. "Cradling all the lights in the heavens.” 

Oh. 

Oh. 

All that poem talk made sense now. 

He wanted to say something to Red Son, about the month without him, the scent of shampoo in his hair, about little heavens cradling lights, about what they were and what they were going to be. But Red Son’s words floated in his brain, frying whatever neural processors he had. So, unable to speak, MK pushed Red Son’s hair aside. 

Red Son angled his head to look back at MK and scoff. “What are you-?!” 

The squeak that left Red Son’s lips when MK kissed the nape of his neck was as adorable as it was glass-shatteringly high. 

MK laughed, taking Red Son’s hair in his hands to continue combing. “Sorry, sorry. I know I said I wouldn’t kiss you. I just…”

Wanted to thank Red Son for loving him. Wanted to indulge his own feelings. Wanted to believe that the warmth of his lips against Red Son’s skin might be the push for him to realize this wasn’t a hallucination. Wanted to kiss Red Son, somewhere, even once, because he wasn’t sure what exactly was going to happen once Red Son got better. 

MK smiled softly. “I couldn’t help myself.” 

Red Son grumbled, sparks flaring up his bangs. “You shouldn’t hold my hair while doing such foolish things. You’ll set yourself on fire.” 

“I mean, considering how many times you’ve wanted me to kiss you tonight, I’m not sure if ‘foolish’ is the word you want to use.” MK pointed out. 

The tips of Red Son's ears turned pink. MK laughed at the sight, warmth filling his chest. “Don’t worry, Red,” he cooed. “Once you’re not sick, we can kiss all the time. At least, if that's what you want.” 

Red Son didn’t respond. He only rubbed the back of his neck, fingers digging into his skin.

MK worked the comb against a tangle nearby Red Son’s roots. “You know, Mei would be so jealous of me right now. She’s been wanting to do your hair for forever. If she knew you let me wash and comb it, I think she’d kill us both.” 

Red Son was quiet as MK continued to babble. “Her parents buy her a bunch of fancy hair accessories, and she hates them, but she’s convinced that you would like them. I’ve been trying to tell her we should have a sleepover where we all give each other super fancy makeovers with all the clothes she hates, but she’s worried I’ll break something in her house…again.” MK laughed sheepishly. “Her parents only really tolerate me as her friend, but I think they’d like you. You always act all high and lofty and stuff, like you’re better than everyone-”

A small gasp cut MK off. Red Son hiccupped, one of his hands covering his mouth as he continued to sniffle. At some point while MK was talking, Red Son had started to cry. 

MK scrambled to stop Red Son’s tears. “I don’t mind that you act better than everyone!” MK exclaimed, moving over to Red Son’s side. “I think it’s really endearing, and funny-not funny, funny’s not the right word, that sounds like I’m making fun of you. I think it’s-!” 

“I should’ve gone kart racing.” Red Son choked out.

Tears streamed down his face now, turning to steam against his burning skin and evaporating before they could drop onto his leg. “I could have told my mother no, or started working tomorrow, but instead I decided to cancel, and now-” 

He rubbed his hands against his eyes, trying to wipe away his tears as they continued to pour. “You were right. I was a terrible friend. I shouldn’t have backed out on the plans. I could’ve at least called Mei to tell her the news. 

“I’ve missed Mei.” Red Son’s voice shook. His hands fell limply to his lamp and he stared down at them. “I was so terrified she’d ask why I was avoiding MK, that I stopped talking to her. But she never should have been involved in this. She deserves better than that. Deserves better than me as a friend. 

“And MK, MK.” Red Son turned to him, lip trembling. “He keeps texting me to ask if everything is okay. How can he ask if I’m doing alright, after all of this? He told me how terrified he was of being abandoned, and then I stopped talking to him for a month. A month! How could they possibly think I’m hero material?!

“But they still wanted to talk to me. They still offered to spend time with me. And instead of that, I-I-I failed them, just like I fail everybody- ” Red Son’s voice was a strangled whimper, a miserable, terrified sound. 

“Hey, hey.” MK laid his hands on Red Son’s shoulder, smiling reassuringly. “It’s okay. Once you get better, you can-”

“I’m not going to get better!” Red Son shouted. “I’m going to die!”

“Why do you keep saying you’re going to die?” MK wiped Red Son’s tears. “You’re just sick, it's gonna be-”

“Why do you keep insisting I’m sick?!” Red Son hiked his hands through his freshly combed hair, knotting it once again. “You know as well as I do that I’m not!” 

He…wasn’t sick?

The room tilted as MK’s mind began to scramble for some explanation. “But, you said the hallucinating was a symptom-” 

“Of the jimsonweed .” Red Son cut MK off. “Which isn’t technically the same as the crimson jimsonweed, but considering those poets talk about haunting images, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was also a symptom as well. I mean, you’re here, aren’t you?” 

MK knew that flower. Memories flashed in his head, of when he first entered the workshop. Red Son had been looking at an article for a flower, one he had seen long before. When he first asked what happened, Red Son had started murmuring something about smoke and thirty minutes, but then he had tried to wipe his vomit off with his hands, and MK had got so distracted with trying to take care of Red Son, that he hadn’t actually thought to ask what was wrong. 

“Red Son,” MK gripped Red Son’s hands, trying to keep his fears at bay. “What happened before I came into the workshop?” 

Red Son scoffed, trying to squeeze his hands out of MK’s. “What’s the point of asking this when you already know-?”

“PLEASE!” MK shouted. Red Son jolted, surprised by MK’s outburst. “Please. Just. Work with me here? Tell me what happened to you.” 

Red Son sighed, wiping his remaining tears with his shoulder. “Mother wanted me to make a toxin with the crimson jimsonweed. I’m not an apothecary, but she insisted, and I didn’t want to fail her. But, I did, and now I have to face the consequences.”

He turned to MK with a desolate look, drained of all the stubborn passion MK was so used to seeing in Red Son. “There’s no cure for crimson jimsonweed poisoning. For all you’ve done to care for me, I doubt I’ll even make it until morning.” 

Shit. Shit. MK hiked his hands through his hair, stumbling off the bed. Why hadn’t he asked what was wrong earlier? He kept assuming Red Son was being dramatic, but why would Red Son deny being sick if he was? MK was such an idiot. He was such an idiot. How did something as basic as asking what was wrong somehow slip by?! 

But that wasn’t what mattered right now. MK could beat himself up later. What mattered was Red Son, who was staring at MK concerned and confused, his cheeks still steaming from the tears that had run down his face.

MK could take care of someone sick. He could wipe someone’s face with a cold towel or feed them chicken soup. But he wasn’t a medic. He wasn’t a healer. And mystical flower poison was far, far beyond his expertise. 

But he couldn’t just leave Red Son. He couldn’t just give up on him, not when he’d spent this long taking care of him, not when MK loved him, not when Red Son loved him back. He couldn't imagine the emptiness in his bed lasting forever. 

MK told Red Son that he wouldn’t die on his watch, and MK was going to keep that promise. Even if he couldn’t heal him, he could get someone who could. 

“Red Son.” MK gripped Red Son’s shoulders. “I’m going to tell your parents what happened.” 

Red Son paled. “What?!” 

“I don’t know how to take care of magic poison, but your parents might!” MK exclaimed. “Or at the very least, they can get someone who knows what to do to help you!” 

“You can’t tell my parents this!” Red Son stood up with considerable effort. “I already told you, they can't know!” Red Son held onto MK’s arms for support. 

“Look, it's going to be fine, okay?” MK lowered his hands to pull Red Son off him. He popped his shoes back on. “You stay here while I go tell them everything.” 

MK ran towards the doorknob when he heard Red Son scramble after him, stumbling over his feet. 

“Don’t!” MK turned to see that Red Son had fallen onto fours and was hobbling towards him. “Don’t tell them about this.”

Red Son was supposed to be way more reasonable than this. “Why wouldn’t I tell your parents?!” MK shouted. 

“I failed them.” Red Son reached his hands up to grip the bottom of MK’s jacket. “I was told to create something for them, and I couldn’t do it. Don’t bother them about my failures. They hear about them enough.” 

MK knew Red Son had a complicated relationship with his family. It was one of those secrets that leaked out of his pores, no matter how many layers of pomp and pride he threw over it. It’s why MK pushed so hard for him to talk to Sandy, to Mei, to anybody. But he never saw it like this. MK never thought it would be like this. 

“Red, it’s not bothering them to get help. You're si-you’re dying .” MK tried to wrench Red Son off him, but Red Son didn’t budge. 

“They shouldn’t have to clean up my mistakes,” Red Son pleaded. “They shouldn’t have to take care of me when I can’t even do one task for them.”

“But didn’t you say you weren’t an apothi-apathy-a poison maker?!” MK kept trying to push Red Son off. "Didn't they know that?!" How was he still so strong even when he was dying, he was dying, he was dying-

“I told Mother I wasn’t capable, but then she asked if I was really so inept. I don't want to be inept, but it seems I am.” Red Son lamented. “I had a job to do and I failed.”

“That-” MK’s eyes twitched, a spark of anger in his stomach. “That’s not your fault, Red. That’s your mom’s! She should’ve listened to you when you said you couldn’t do it!” 

“But I should’ve been able to.” Red Son’s eyes were hazy, unfocused, staring off into memories MK couldn’t possibly know. “I should be able to do what they ask of me. But I can’t. I can’t do anything for them. I can’t do anything right.” 

MK grabbed onto the doorknob, desperate now. “Look, your parents are super strict and unreasonable, but I don’t think they’d want you to die, so you should really let me go get them!”

“Maybe they do.” 

MK’s heart dropped. 

“Maybe they want me gone.” Red Son was staring down at the ground, hands shaking against the fabric of MK’s jacket. “A dead son is a tragedy. A dead weight is a misfortune." Red Son covered his face with his hands, but he continued to cry, his voice high and fragile. "Mother should have never interfered.” 

Once, Red Son mentioned that while powered by the Lady Bone Demon, his father had tried to hit him. When MK and Mei immediately expressed concern and righteous fury respectively, Red Son waved them off. He insisted that it was nothing to worry themselves over. His mother had protected him, MK freed DBK, the Lady Bone Demon had been defeated and most importantly, his father would never actually hit him. 

But MK remembered seeing an unfamiliar melancholy leak out of Red Son as he sat on MK’s bed, biting his lip as if he was still flinching from the memory. At the time, MK had just tried to lighten the mood, joking about Pigsy’s own oddities when it came to taking care of him. But, maybe he should have said something more. Maybe he should have slipped his fingers between Red Son’s, rested his head on his shoulder, whispered to him about how lucky his parents were to have him as a son.

“Red,” MK let go of the doorknob. “Red Son,” He knelt on the ground. “You don’t really think that, do you?” 

Red Son didn’t meet his gaze, staring down at the floor. His hands let go of MK to hold himself. “I…I didn’t-I don’t…I don’t know.” He sounded surprised, as if he hadn’t expected to hear those words tumble out his mouth. His voice cracked. “I don’t know."

Red Son looked so fragile. All the cracks that he tried so desperately to hide had finally given way, and in his state he didn’t have the energy to stop it. Fat tears fell from his eyes, staining the carpeted floor below the two of them. It terrified MK to see him like this, devoid of the spark which seemed to run through his veins and light up his eyes. 

Mk lifted Red Son’s face to look at him, wiping his tears away. Red Son blinked, staring up at MK with an expression far too sad and small for him. 

“You’re not useless.” MK murmured. “So you’ve messed up. Everyone has.” He tucked a lock of hair behind Red Son’s ear. “It doesn’t mean that you’re a failure.”

Red Son stuttered on his words, lip trembling. “But, but, that’s not-”

“And y’know what?” MK moved his face closer to Red Son, hands trembling. “Even if you are a failure, that doesn’t mean you're better off gone. You don’t need to be useful to be alive. Your parents can be really awful to you, but I don't think they want you to die. Your mom protected you for a reason, right? No matter how many times you mess up, they still want you to be alive.”

MK’s vision began to blur. “And, I know this point doesn’t matter as much, but, I never thought you were any of those things.” He blinked the tears out of his eyes, his hands going down to hold Red Son’s. “I think you’re really smart, and passionate, and you do so many amazing things, and it wouldn’t even matter if you didn’t, because I really, really don’t want you to die.”  

Red Son stared at MK as if his words were some sort of incredible revelation, with starry eyes and trembling lips. Was it really that shocking to him that MK wanted him to live? That his parents would still love him regardless of how many times he failed them? MK hoped that one day, he could tell Red Son he deserved to be alive without it being a surprise. He hoped Red Son could live to see it. 

“I’m not going to give up on you-” MK’s words began to fail him, his voice caught in his throat as tears fell down his face. “So please. Don’t give up either. Let me talk to them.”

There was a small moment of thought before Red Son finally moved closer to MK, laying his head on his chest. “At least…just…at least stay with me until I fall asleep.” Red Son whispered into MK’s collarbone. “I want to keep pretending you’re here.”  

MK wanted to argue. He didn’t know how quickly that poison would affect Red Son’s system, so the quicker MK got actual help, the better chances he had of saving Red Son. But, as Red Son clung to MK’s shirt, it occurred to him what exactly Red Son was asking. 

He didn’t want to feel like he was dying alone. 

MK wrapped one arm around Red Son’s waist and ran his hair through the other, pressing Red Son against him. MK held him tight, as if his hold would keep Red Son alive and with him. As if his grip could defy death. 

“Come on,” MK murmured. “Let’s get you to bed.” 

MK lifted up Red Son. He didn’t complain or squirm like before, burying his face into the crook of MK’s neck. It was easy to lie Red Son down on his bed, resting his head against the fluffy pillow. But as MK tried to let go, Red Son wrapped his arms around MK’s torso. With a mighty heave, he pulled MK into the bed with him.

MK yelped, trying his best not to crush Red Son. Red Son forced the two of them to flip, MK now lying in bed with him. The moment MK was in the bed, Red Son buried himself into MK’s shoulder, fingers toying with the collar of MK’s shirt. 

MK let out a breathy laugh. How was Red Son still strong enough to do that? 

“Tell me one of your stupid Monkey King stories.” Red Son’s voice was muffled, half his face in his pillow and the other in MK’s shoulder. “Tell me one with Guanyin.” 

MK wasn’t sure if anyone had ever asked him to talk about the Monkey King before. He certainly never expected it from Red Son. But, if this is what Red Son wanted, MK would do that for him. MK grabbed one of the many blankets which draped over the bed to pull over Red Son.

“Well,” MK wrapped his arm around Red Son’s waist as he grinned for the sleepy demon. “Guanyin’s first introduction to Sun Wukong is after the Peach Festival.” 

And as terrifying as it was to have Red Son’s death looming over them, a part of MK couldn't help but think about how nice it was to lay in bed together. MK whispered tales into Red Son’s ear, regaling him with stories of peaches and wine, and Red Son seemed to enjoy it, sighing contently into MK’s shoulder. MK wished he could stay like that forever, laying in bed with Red Son and telling him his favorite stories. He wished that they could fall asleep in each other's arms and wake up to feather-soft kisses or pillow fights.

But a crimson smoke loomed over the two of them, and as much as MK tried to remain cheerful, it blurred his vision and made his hands shake. There was no time to dream. 

It didn’t take long for Red Son to fall asleep. His breath was slow and even, warming MK’s chest and reminding that yes, he was still alive. MK tucked a lock of Red Son’s hair behind his ear. His finger grazed Red Son’s temple, and despite him being fast asleep, Red Son’s lips curled up into a smile, leaning into the touch. 

MK pressed a kiss onto Red Son’s forehead. As he slipped out the bed and left Red Son’s room, he prayed it wouldn’t be the last. 

When MK returned to the cliffside where Mei was waiting empty handed, she nearly threw her phone at him. 

“What were you doing in there?!” She jabbed a finger at MK as he landed on the earth. “I’ve been waiting for hours, my phone is about to die, kart-racing is definitely going to close, and most importantly, WHERE IS-!” 

A low drone in the air cut Mei off. She stopped her tirade to look out at the Demon Bull Fortress. Every light in the window was on now. The bullclones, who had before followed a specific route round the fortress that Mei had been staring at for hours, had all gone out of step, either rushing into the fortress or flying off into the distance.

“Uhh, MK?” Mei turned to look at the now human MK who stood before her. His hands were shaking. He clenched them, biting his lip as if to try and steady the tremors, but it only seemed to make it worse. 

She spoke again, her anger giving way to concern. “Where is Red Son?”

MK let out a shudder of a gasp, shutting his eyes to blink away tears. Mei ran to him on instinct, wrapping her arms around MK's neck. MK broke down into her shoulder, hands clinging to her jacket as he sobbed. She let him stay there as long as he needed, running her hands through his hair. 

Eventually, MK was coherent enough to tell her everything. And as much as Mei wanted to burst into the fortress to help, they both knew there was nothing they could do. 

They drove off, a green streak in the night, whose two riders constantly looked back behind them. 

There were a flurry of images that Red Son could barely remember. 

He had just fallen into a peaceful sleep, his mind dreaming of wide grins and lips that tasted like peaches, when suddenly someone had burst into his room. He remembered voices. They had sounded like his mother and father, but there was a panic to them, a fear that he wasn’t sure he’d heard in his mother since the monkey king had locked DBK away, and he had certainly never heard from his father. 

When he opened his eyes, all he saw were blurry images, a roulette of shapes and colors shoving medicines down his throat or into his nose. It was all rather invasive, and if Red Son weren’t so exhausted, he’d probably have burned them to bits. 

He missed MK. Or at least, the image that haunted him by washing his hair and kissing his neck and telling him a story as he fell asleep. Whenever he woke up to the feel of someone pressing a towel on his head or forcing water down his throat, he would try to close his eyes and imagine the image was the one nursing him, with a cheer and warmth rivaled only by the real MK. As he curled up alone in his bed, he swore he could still feel the ghost of an arm around his waist, or phantom fingers running against his scarred cheek. 

Eventually, Red Son began to feel better. His vision had started to clear. Well, as much as it could without his glasses, but he could make sense of the room now, see the bull clone dusting his windowsill rather than a blur of gray. His skin didn’t feel hot to the touch anymore. His stomach wasn’t curdling every half an hour either. Not to mention, he didn’t have a single hallucination. Not since that first night. 

Still though, Red Son was substantially weaker than normal, so he was to remain bedridden for some time. It was boring more than anything. Red Son was the sort of person whose hands needed to constantly be working at something. He worked best when his schedule was just a little too busy for comfort. But now, his fingers twitched, scrolling online on reading a book the bullclones handed him. 

His father visited semi-regularly, which was a pleasant surprise. He was adamant that the food the bullclones were feeding Red Son would not be enough to regain his strength, so he would often make Red Son’s dinner. The Demon Bull King would personally cook Red Son pork bone soup with fresh daikon, or congee using a homemade chicken broth. He even fetched Red Son some expensive, mystic teas to drink in the name of good health. It was all very touching for Red Son, even if the serving size could feed about seventeen demons. 

His father scoffed at the barely eaten soup in Red Son's lap. “At your age, I could eat a kingdom’s worth of food for one meal,” Steam puffed out his father’s nose as he nodded at the memory. “Regrettably, you have gained your mother’s appetite, but what matters is you have my superior tastes.” 

Red Son picked up the bowl to drink some of the broth, mindful not to eat to much he'd vomit. 

His mother only visited one time. It was a few days before Red Son was finally able to walk again without needing to lean on the wall for support. She came in the afternoon, the wind from outside making the curtains dance and her hair flutter.

Red Son knew eventually, she would come see him, even if it took her some time. His mother had always been squeamish when it came to taking care of the ill. However, what surprised him was the plate Princess Iron Fan laid in his lap. Sitting on the plate were apple slices, carefully crafted to take on the shape of little fans.

The sight sent a wave of nostalgia through Red Son. When he was barely a toddler, his mother would slice apples into gorgeous, intricate creations, like birds or flowers, to give as a snack to her child and husband. Red Son’s favorites were always the fans. They were her most simple design, and Princess Iron Fan often made them from scraps or rejected slices of her more gorgeous creations, but Red Son liked them for the simple reason that they reminded him of his mother. 

When the Demon Bull King was locked away, she abandoned that ritual, along with a thousand other little things that Red Son had forgotten to mourn. As he slowly picked up a little fan made of fuji apples, he couldn’t help the ache in his chest, for a simpler time so far away the memories blurred at the edges. Red Son almost didn’t want to eat them. 

Princess Iron Fan sat at Red Son’s bedside, staring out the window with an unreadable expression. It was well into the day, but she still hadn’t gotten quite ready. It was the rare slow day for her, the sort which happened once a millennia or so. Her hair was mostly down, her intricate bull horned updo undone. Red Son could smell the creamy scent of her beauty cream, but she had yet to finish making up her face. She wore an old nightgown that she had owned for centuries, thick and ornate with golden trim along the edges. She looked tired like this. He supposed that it made sense. His mother had always been working so hard, that surely, she too was exhausted beneath it all. 

“Mother,” Red Son placed the apple slices down. “I apologize for my mishandling of your request. I had thought I could dry the crimson jimsonweed with my powers, but the ignition temperature was far lower than expected, and-” 

“Your apology is unnecessary.” Princess Iron Fan stated. “Come the next crimson moon, I will have another bullclone fetch the blossom, and I will be sure to hire an apothecary. Of course, we will have to vet them, but that should be no real issue. If in the future, if you feel unequipped to fulfill a task I’ve requested of you, do not hesitate to conscript someone you deem worthy of such an task. I am confident you will choose wisely.” Princess Iron Fan’s tone was neutral on the matter, as if discussing a benign political policy instead of Red Son’s catastrophic failure. 

“But still, the crimson jimsonweed only grows on a crimson moon in that specific lake!” Red Son clasped his hands helplessly. “And I incinerated the whole blossom, ruining your plans-!"

“There are other crimson moons.” Princess Iron Fan cut him off. “And there are other plans to conquer the world.”

Princess Iron Fan turned to face Red Son now. “The healers told us that if your temperature had been any warmer, your poisoning would have been fatal.” She stated. “Your skin had been kept at a cool temperature.” Red Son supposed he had his mystic hallucination to thank for that. How ironic. He only survived because of the deadliest symptom. 

"The healers came just in time as well. If they had come any later..." Princess Iron Fan cursed, her hands gripping the fabric of her nightgown. "If your father and I hadn't..."

Princess Iron Fan’s exhaustion was clearer than ever, from the bags under her eyes to the tug in her frown. But there was something more to it, a sadness in her eyes that she was trying to keep wrapped up tight within her, bunching her nightgown between her fingers as she tried to force it back.

Eventually though, Princess Iron Fan won over that tide of emotions, tucking some stray hairs behind her ears. “I miscalculated,” She pushed the plate of apple slices closer to Red Son with her fingers. Princess Iron Fan turned away from him again, staring out the window with a forced neutral expression. “I will not make the same mistake twice.”

Princess Iron Fan was a hard woman, wrapped in sharp winds and metal, but she was loving-only someone who truly loved their husband would go to her lengths to free him. She enveloped herself so tightly in cruelty and cunning that some days even she seemed impossible to reach, a weeping would-be widow on a cliffside surrounded by steel and chilly winds. And those were real parts of her, the condescending curl of her lip still there even on her happiest days. But that didn’t mean she was impossible to reach. Her love was real too, even if you had to bend metal and block the winds to see it. 

Red Son didn’t need to do that though. He had known his mother all his life. Staring down at the little apple fans on his plate, Red Son knew what his mother was trying to say, even if she couldn’t bring herself to speak such humiliating words. 

Red Son took a bite of his apple slices. He pretended not to notice the way his mother’s shoulders loosened, just slightly, like a weight had finally lifted. She knew what he was trying to say too. 

Princess Iron Fan sighed, running a hand through your hair. “To think, we’re now in his debt due to my oversight.” She clicked her tongue as stood up to close the window. “I cannot even begin to comprehend how we could repay that chittering little ape.” 

Red Son was so busy reveling in the sweet flesh of the apples that he forgot to ask who exactly his mother was talking about.

When his parents weren’t with him, Red Son was left alone with little more than his thoughts to keep him company. He almost mourned when he was at his worst, when he at least could pretend someone was by his side. 

It was an odd night, in retrospect. His mind, so addled and dizzy from the poison, seemed quick to comply with his strange circumstances, letting a mystic hallucination wash his hair without a second thought. And yet, he couldn’t help but miss it, the feeling of hands running through his hair, detangling his knots and scratching his scalp, the warm promises of kisses, the scent of cheap deodorant and noodle broth. Red Son was half tempted to rewire some of the bullclones to comb his hair and recite old folk tales, but he knew it wouldn’t be the same as MK. Or at least, the blurry grinning image of MK that Red Son’s dying mind produced. 

Red Son’s boredom and loneliness combined with mourning over a figment of his imagination eventually forced him to think about his real friends. Well, he wasn’t entirely sure if he could call them friends anymore. Red Son had left his phone in his workshop, and because his parents had bullclones guarding the door to keep him from working, he had no way to get to it to contact them. 

Red Son was so convinced that canceling their plans would have no issues, but he knew that was wrong now. Everything Red Son been doing, for the past month, had all stemmed from fear, cowardice, an inability to talk to anyone about his issues out of fear they’d leave him behind for such weakness. But all he was doing was hurting his friends, and in the process, hurting himself.

Red Son loved his family. He couldn’t bring himself to ever betray their will. But he loved watching Mei’s livestreams while working on a new project. He loved crowding into MK’s bed with a tower of snacks to watch some atrocious children’s show. He loved driving through the city with MK, watching the lights of the city, of the world, of every realm reflected from his wide brown eyes. And maybe these opposing loves would tear him in two, but Red Son knew he wanted to cling on to both of them. 

In the hours between morning and evening, where the sky was dark but the birds were stirring, Red Son snuck out of his bedroom. Slipping past the patrolling bullclones designed to capture him, Red Son crept into his workshop, still in the same state of disarray as when he left it. The screens still held articles about the crimson jimsonweed, its remains still in the garbage. 

Red Son pulled his phone out of the drawer he stashed it in and sat on top of his work table. He’d gotten a couple calls from Mei and MK along with some texts asking if he was doing alright over the course of the week. It shouldn't have surprised him that they'd keep trying to talk to him, but seeing the noitifications stirred something in Red Son's chest. His vision started to blur as a fond smile grew on his face. 

Morons. Red Son wiped away his tears, tapping on Mei’s many missed calls. His phone began to call her, and for a moment, Red Son wanted to cancel it out of fear he’d be waking her up, but she answered before the third ring. 

“...Red Son?” Mei's voice was hesitant, even frightened. He supposed it would’ve surprised her to see him calling. 

“Dragon Horse girl,” Red Son cleared his throat. “I apologize for not responding this past week. I’ve been…erm…bedridden.” As much as he wanted to be honest with Mei, admitting what exactly occurred that evening still felt like a wound to Red Son’s pride, no matter how many times the supportive words of his hallucination ran through his head. “My parents barely even let me out of my room, much less allow me outside, so I fear kart racing will be…out of the question for some time.”

He expected to hear Mei shouting through the phone, his arm twitching the device from. But she was quiet, a barely discernible hum making up her response. 

“I-I know it sounds as though I’m trying to ditch you or flake, but I swear it’s true!” Red Son waved his free hand around as he spoke. “The project for my mother went terribly wrong, and if necessary I can give you updates about my health until I’m stable enough to-” 

“I believe you, Red Son.” Mei said. Her words struck Red Son more than he expected. He supposed that as much as her nicknames used to irritate him, he would rather have to constantly correct Mei calling him “Red Boy.” 

“Look, none of this is why I’m calling you, okay?” Red Son said. “Well, it’s part of it, but it's not the main reason. I know you didn’t want to discuss this over the phone, which is why you offered to go kart racing in the first place, but since I’m not sure how long it’ll be until I can see you in person again, so I just wanted to say-” 

The words clung to Red Son's vocal chords, begging him to keep quiet. He was like his mother in that sense, better with carefully planned actions than vulnerable speeches. But Red Son could never quite slice apples into those neat, perfect creations the way his mother could. So as his hair steamed and his cheeks flushed, he forced himself to speak from the heart. 

“I’m sorry.” Red Son said. “

My actions over the past month have been completely unacceptable. Or, lack of actions, I suppose, is more accurate." He let out a hollow chuckle. It really wasn't funny, but he couldn't help but try and fill that space. "Regardless, I…I regret all of it.

You know that friendship is…a rather new field for me.” He hiked up his shoulders, trying to curl in on himself as he spoke. “I’ve been dealing with some rather…foreign emotions, and in my haste to get rid of them, I tried to get rid of the two of you. But, that never would have worked. What’s that phrase you humans have? About absence and hearts being fonder?” Red Son huffed, a smile tugging on his lips. “Your human sayings are as stupidly correct as your poetry.” 

Mei was silent on the phone, so Red Son continued, trying to fill the quiet with emotions he forced out his chest and into the open air. “I intend to call the Noodl-MK soon, but I wanted to apologize to you first. My current issues were completely unrelated to you, but I was so paranoid, I went out of my way to drag you into them by pushing you out of my life. It was wrong, and…and while you don’t need to forgive me, I will do whatever I can to make it up to you.” 

Mei sighed. Red Son could imagine her sitting in her bed, rubbing her temples as she spoke. “Alright, Red Son. You want to do something? Here’s what you can do.” 

Red Son pressed the phone closer to his ear, heat rising in the back of his neck. He waited, anxious and eager and terrified for what Mei would say. Maybe she would finally start to shout, cursing him out for everything he did and for having the audacity to call her now. Or maybe, he words would be as clipped and quiet as they had been this whole call, ending their friendship with a quick snip. 

“When you get better, you plan the kart racing.” 

Huh? 

Red Son wasn’t sure he quite heard that right. “Wait, what?” 

Mei started to giggle. “Come on, Red Boy. What did you think I was going to say? Get better quick so we can start hanging out again.” Red Son could hear the grin on her face. 

“Wh-Buh-You’re not mad at me?” He knew Mei was a good person, a hero, but surely even she had her limits. 

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m still kiiinda pissed.” Mei said. “But! If you really want to get better at the whole friendship thing, then I’ve got your back. Everyone makes stupid mistakes. Just, don't be such an idiot next time.”

Oh. 

Fondness bloomed in Red Son's chest as a smile snaked up his face. How did he spend a whole month away from Mei? No wonder he felt so miserable. Life without her was just so much harder to navigate.

“Plus, when we got kart-racing, I’m going to destroy you and MK, so I can just let out all my anger there.” Mei admitted. 

Red Son snorted, standing up to lean on his work table. “What did the Noodle Boy do this time?”

“I mean, I’m not like, mad mad at him,” Mei explained. “I’m just a teensy bit annoyed over what happened when we went to pick you up for kart racing.” 

Pick him up for kart racing? Mei and MK never came over to pick him up. He’d canceled on them, and then he’d gotten poisoned, they never saw him or anything.  Mei continued to talk, completely ignorant to Red Son’s confusion, “Like of course I understand he was busy making sure you wouldn’t die, but it would have been nice to get at least a few updates. I could’ve helped out too, you know? But instead I just waited for him for forever.” 

“You…didn’t go kart racing that day?” Red Son asked. 

“Hmm? Oh, no. I told you, if you weren’t at Pigsy’s by seven, we were going to pick you up. MK was supposed to sneak in and grab you, but he kiiinda got distracted with the whole poisonous-plant-situation you were in?” 

Wait, but that didn’t make any sense. MK wasn’t there. At least, the real MK wasn’t. And how come Mei knew about the poison? 

“MK was never here.” Red Son gripped the ledge of his work table for support, the room suddenly feeling very dizzy. “He, he wasn’t. I was just-”

“Oh yeaaah, MK mentioned that. You thought you were hallucinating, right?” Red Son’s eyes widened at Mei’s words. She laughed, “Yeaaah, you might want to call MK soon. He’s been super worried since he left you with your parents. The only thing he’s been talking about all week’s bee…”

Red Son dropped his phone. It clattered on the metal floor. Mei continued to speak, but Red Son barely registered it at all. 

All that time, MK had been telling him he was real, and Red Son had waved it off. But somehow, Mei knew about the hallucination, the poison. Which could only mean she was telling the truth. MK was actually there. He was actually real,

Red Son's mind raced through the memories of that fuzzy, grinning specter who visited him, that washed his hair, kissed his nape, and begged Red Son not to give up on himself. The memories flooded his mind, each one taking a completely different hue now that he knew the truth. Oh gods. Oh gods. Red Son had tried to kiss him. He threw up and cried multiple times while MK held him. He’d stripped naked with the real MK in the room. He told MK the truth, about how badly he wanted him, about how he wished he’d kissed that night in the car, about how he held all the light in the heavens, but Red Son had figured he was talking to smoke and mystic mirrors. But he had said all of that- done all of that-to the real MK? 

“Red Boy?” Mei’s voice finally cut through Red Son’s spiral. “Are you still there?” 

Red Son clambered to pick up his phone. “Yes, yes,” he coughed, trying his best to sound calm despite his heart pounding in his chest. “I’m here, it’s just-he-he-” Red Son pressed the phone against his ear, whispering into the speaker. "What exactly did he tell you?” 

A low laugh came out of the phone. “Oh, something weird definitely happened between you guys, didn’t it? Every time I ask MK about that night he gets all flustered and weird. Did you throw up on him?" 

“I did not! ” Red Son yelled. 

“Okay, because my theory was either you threw up on him or confessed your feelings, but I wasn’t sure about the second one.” Mei said. "Is it the second one?" 

Red Son had to throw the phone onto the table to keep his hands from melting it. 

“HOW DID YOU-” He slapped a hand over his mouth in case a bullclone had heard him screech. Red Son leaned close to the phone’s speaker, hissing under his breath. “I’m ending this call right now.” 

“Aww, so you did confess!” Mei cooed. “And I knew because the two of you are super obvious. It’d be cute if the two of you weren’t such idiots.” 

“I take back what I said. I never want to see your face again.” Red Son sneered. 

“Yeah, yeah, love you too Red Boy.” Mei’s voice was warm and cheery, and as chaotic as Red Son was feeling it soothed him to hear those words come from her mouth. She did, however, completely negate those feelings by jeering, “Now go call your boyfriend before he explodes.” 

“Good BYE.” Red Son jabbed the end call button so hard he worried his finger would break the screen. 

Red Son grumbled to himself, opening up his contacts. There were only two people on his phone. His parents had no use for such human tech, so it was only Mei and MK there. His thumb hovered over MK’s name, a violent blush running up his ears. What could he even begin to say? Maybe an apology, like with Mei. Or some sort of long winded explanation for his affections, to try and cover up the truth he let spill so quickly.

But, no, MK loved him back, didn’t he? He’d said so himself. He insisted on it. He'd kissed his neck. Red Son covered his mouth, tufts of fire snaking through his hair. 

MK loved him. What was he supposed to do with that? 

Eventually, Red Son steeled his nerves, taking a deep breath to calm himself. He had planned to call Mei and MK tonight, and that’s exactly what he would do. He would just…figure out the rest laster. With a pounding heart, Red Son called MK. 

It only took one ring for MK’s voice to shout through the phone. 

“RED SON! YOU’RE OKAY! I mean, of course you’re okay, why wouldn’t you be? I mean, there’s definitely a reason why you wouldn’t be okay, but you don't think that I know that.” MK babbled. “Oh, wow, okay, that was a terrible way to start, let me try again.” 

“Noodle Boy-” Red Son tried to speak, but MK cut him off. “Are you feeling any better? I’ve been really worried about you. I mean, Mei has always been really worried, obviously, it's not like I'm the only one really worried. Oh, you should totally come with us to see the new Monkey Cop–when you’re feeling good, of course! Which, I wouldn’t know about, unless you know that I know? Wow, that was somehow even worse, okay, uh-”

“MK-” 

“So I know this sounds totally weird and crazy, but the other day when we were supposed to go kart-racing and you couldn’t come, Mei decided that we should go and pick you up, so I was supposed to kidnap you-platonically, of course!-but when I broke in, uh-" 

“MK-” 

“Look, you might remember maybe hallucinating me coming over? Uh, well, that may or may not have not actually been a-” 

“Xiaotian!” 

The waterfall of words pouring from MK’s mouth suddenly stopped. Red Son cleared his throat, fanning away the flames that licked his cheek. “I…I know.” 

He let out a long sigh, the flames in his hair expelling itself. He scratched his cheek, unsure of how to approach the conversation. Instead of discussing it properly, he opted to snort. “You really named yourself after the Monkey King?” 

“I was a kid! ” MK groaned. “And I don’t want to hear any slander about my name from you. I know exactly what you think of my name.” 

Red Son blushed. “Well that was-I-excuse me for my dying brain lacking any proper filters!” He sputtered. 

“You’re not dying anymore though, right?” MK asked. He tried to remain casual, but Red Son could hear how nervous he truly was. 

“No. I’m not dying.” Red Son replied. “I suppose I have you to thank for that? You told my parents everything?” 

“Yeah.” MK said. “They were asleep when I got to them, so I woke them up and told them everything. I might have also yelled at them for not listening to you in the first place and overall being terrible, but that’s besides the point.” 

Red Son pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don't argue about me with my parents." He ran a hand through his hair. "And you don't need to worry. I’ve been told that from now on, I have full permission to commission anyone with a project I don’t feel equipped to complete.” 

“That’s good!” MK chirped. “Really good, Red.” 

Red Son only hummed in response. 

“Sooo, uh, quick question.” Red Son heard the sound of shuffling from the speaker, as if MK was moving about quickly. “You do remember everything, right?” 

Red Son sighed. “It’s blurry in some areas, admittedly, but yes, I remember.” 

“Ok,” Red Son heard a door open. “So you also remember our deal, right?” 

Red Son snorted. “What deal? I don’t remember any-” 

A memory flashed in Red Son’s mind, where he was standing in the bathroom with MK’s arms wrapped around his neck as MK made an offer so ludicrously stupid it actually managed to cheer Red Son up. And of course, he kept bringing it up throughout the night, even going so far as to come up with a code word for-

“Yeah, you did just say my real name, so I’m obligated to come over.” MK announced. “I’ll be there in ten, set up a timer and open your bedroom window, kay byeeee!” 

MK hung up the call before Red Son could shout at him to stop. He groaned, shoving his phone into his pocket. 

This wasn’t actually happening, right? Red Son shuffled back into his room, shutting the door behind him. With a flick of his hands, he lit a few torches in his room, allowing himself to walk to his bed and fall there with a flop. Red Son’s stomach flipped inside him. He felt his brain boiling in his skull. There was no way MK was actually coming over, right now, to…to…

Red Son screamed into a pillow, hair bursting into flames. 

After a few minutes of this, Red Son tossed the pillow aside, sliding out of his bed. He opened up one of his windows, letting the hot volcanic air through the room. It felt good against Red Son’s skin as he leaned out the ledge, watching the dark clouds of ash that covered the stars. Red Son sat there, gazing out at that dreary view, trying to convince himself that he was only standing there to enjoy the sight. 

Red Son almost decided to head back to bed after a half an hour when he saw the smallest dot in the distance, flying through the clouds straight towards him. He narrowed his eyes. It was hard to see exactly what it was; Red Son had lost his glasses after he poisoned himself, and he hadn’t gotten the chance to make a new set. Maybe MK would know where they were? He squinted at the sky as the silhouette of a hawk holding a bag of take out swooped through the sky, diving straight towards his window. 

Red Son was barely able to make it out of the way as the bird flew straight into his room. He had almost set the hawk on fire when it began to glow gold, its body shifting until MK was sitting on his floor holding a bag of Pigsy’s noodles in his hand. 

MK wheezed, lying back on the ground. He held the take out bag up with a shaky hand as he panted. “Brought…soup…from Pigsy’s. Is…It’s chicken.”

Red Son snorted. He had an exceptionally large dinner of soup dumplings, but he was feeling peckish, and it wasn’t like he would refuse food from MK.  When Red Son took the takeout bag from MK’s hand, his arm flopped dramatically onto the floor as he groaned. “I am never flying here ever again. All those dad jokes were right-my arms aretired.” 

“Did you really come all this way just to-to-” Red Son gripped the plastic bag in his hands. He couldn’t even get the words out of his mouth. 

“I mean, no? Yes? Maybe? If you want?” MK let out a long sigh. “I just wanted to see you. I-" He looked over at Red Son, chest heaving. "I wasn't sure if I would." 

Oh. That’s right. When he thought MK was just a hallucination, Red Son rationalized that his panicked, frenzied behavior was his body desperately trying to stay alive. But that hadn’t been the case. The real MK had been saddled with a dying Red Son, whom he could only hope would be saved by someone more equipped than him. He thought about the way MK’s hands shook as he held him, the tears that ran down his face as he begged Red Son to let him try to get help. If Red Son had truly died, how long would it have taken for MK to find out? Had he spent all that time since he left the Demon Bull Fortress in that terrifying limbo?

“My mother told me that if my body temperature had been any higher, I most likely wouldn’t have survived.” Red Son admitted as he took the food out the takeout bag. “And while she didn’t want to admit it, if you hadn’t told her what was happening, it probably would have been too late for me. All the efforts you made to take care of me were the one thing which kept me from death.

“So, no, I didn’t die.” Red Son sat on the foot of his bed, staring down at the golden broth of his noodles with a small smile. "And it's all because of you." 

A shuddering gasp escaped MK’s lips. Red Son looked over to see MK crying as a relieved grin spread on his face. "That-" MK sniffled, wiping his tears with the heel of his hand. "That's good. Really good. I'm glad you're not dead." 

Red Son hummed, opening his wooden chopsticks with a snap. He was glad he wasn't dead either. 

“Regardless, it’s been over a half an hour.” Red Son mused. “And you claimed you would come within ten minutes. You failed." 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” MK lifted his head up from the floor to look at Red Son as he stirred his noodles. “Give me like, three seconds though. I’m very tired and I’m sort of processing a lot of emotions right now. When I’m done though, you can punish me all you want.” 

The wooden chopsticks turned to ash in Red Son’s hands. He could see MK grin widely at this as he cursed under his breath. Luckily, there were a few more inside the bag. Maybe MK anticipated that Red Son would destroy a couple chopsticks tonight.

Opening up another pair, Red Son spent the next minute eating in relative silence. After a while though, MK jolted, sitting up straight. 

“Oh! I almost forgot.” MK dug into his pockets before pulling out a pair of glasses. No, not just any pair of glasses, those were Red Son’s glasses, the ones he was told had seemingly vanished from the fortress that night. 

“You gave these to me after I threw you in the bath, but I kinda forgot to give them back.” MK sat up, shoulders hunched over as he held the glasses out to Red Son. "Sorry about that." 

Red Son took the glasses from MK’s hands, placing them back onto the ridge of his nose. It was nice to properly see again. And to be completely honest, he really didn’t want to have to make new glasses. So, he was grateful they hadn't just vanished from the fortress like the searching bullclones had seemed to conclude. 

“So, you’re doing better then?” MK was kneeling against Red Son’s bed, arms and head half buried in one of his blankets. 

“Yes. The majority of my symptoms are gone, and within a few days, I should be back to my usual self.” Red Son responded. 

“That’s really great, Red.” MK smiled up at him, warm and bright and happy. He clambered on top of the bed, kicking off his shoes so they wouldn’t dirty the blankets. “And you’re okay too, right?” 

Red Son raised his brow as he slurped a few noodles from his bowl. “I just told you, Noodle Boy, I’ll have my usual strength back within a few days. You’re not deaf are you?” 

“No, no, I heard you the first time,” MK moved closer to Red Son on the bed. “I just wanted to know if you wanted to talk about…you know…” His eyes glanced back to the front of Red Son’s bedroom door. “If you were okay.” 

Ah. Right. That. 

“I’m…not sure,” Red Son placed the noodles to the side. "I don't know if I truly believe everything I told you then, but...I'm not sure if I find it wrong, either."

Red Son’s insecurities were a part of him that he always tried his best to keep under wraps. He hadn’t expected it to pour out of him the way he did that night, bitter and ugly. If he’d known MK was really there, he would have tried to exert more control over what he had said. But now, MK knew that part of Red Son. And he was staring at him, a small, sympathetic expression on his face as he took Red Son’s hand in both of his. 

“It’s okay if you don’t feel sure.” MK said. “Some days, I don’t know if I’m feeling okay either,” He ran his thumbs over Red Son’s knuckles, sending waves of heat up his arm. “But, I meant everything I told you then, and I still mean it now. So, if you ever want to talk, or cry, or just anything at all, I’ve got your back, alright?” MK looked up at Red Son with a supportive, lopsided smile. 

Red Son swallowed, looking away from MK to cough into his fist. “I’ll, um. I’ll keep that in mind.” 

He squeezed one of MK’s hands, feeling its calluses against his fingers. “I’m sorry, for everything, by the way.” Red Son said, leaning over as he took MK’s other hand. “If you don’t want to be around me anymore, I’ll understand, but-”

“Dude,” MK snorted, “I just told you that I had your back no matter what.” Suddenly, he grew sheepish, looking away with a blush. “And, y’know, it’s not like I stopped being in love with you after a week.” He laughed, eyes capturing the torch light as he looked at Red Son. “So, I definitely still want you around.” 

Red Son’s hair burst into flames, dancing around him before he forced himself to calm down. 

“Right. Well. I should thank you too,” Red Son said, wrenching his gaze away from MK’s grinning face. He ran his thumbs across the back of MK’s hands and scoffed. “As much as I hate to admit it, your bath seemingly did help.” 

“Awww I’m glad!” MK laughed. He leaned over to Red Son with a wide grin. “So, does this mean you’ll stop being so scared of water?” 

Red Son sputtered. “I’m not scared of water, Noodle Boy!” 

“I don’t know, Red. I had to wrangle you just to get you in the tub,” MK patted Red Son’s head, cooing. “Just know that I’ll always be there if you want to start some exposure therapy, okay?” 

Red Son smacked MK’s hand away. “Insufferable peasant,” He sneered. MK only smiled in response, so warm and sweet that whatever irritation Red Son felt melted into a honey sweet fondness. 

“My mother mentioned that she had a debt to a ‘chittering little ape,’” Red Son recalled as he picked some chicken out of the noodles to eat. “I suppose she was referring to you ?” 

MK scrunched up his face. “Well, I don’t appreciate being called little, but I guess she would be referring to me? Not sure why though, she doesn't really owe me."

Red Son snorted. "Chittering Ape" didn't bother you, but little was too far? 

MK shrugged as he thought out loud. “They were pretty knocked out when I went into their room, and when I told them what happened they had no idea. So, maybe that? And, I guess I did clean you up and take care of you and all. So, yeah, I guess it would make sense she was talking about me. ‘Debt’ seems a bit dramatic though.” 

“Dramatic?” Red Son scoffed as he continued to eat his noodles between each sentence. “You saved the life of the only heir to the Demon Bull King’s domain, debt doesn't even begin to cover it. Even if they wanted me dead, they would be in your debt from the political nightmare alone. Could you imagine if word spread that the person who saved my life was our family’s greatest enemy?” 

“Am I really your family’s greatest enemy?” MK asked. “I feel like the Monkey King should be a bit higher up there.” 

“My point still stands.” Red Son set the now empty bowl of noodles down. “They’re probably trying to come up with some sort of reward to keep your mouth shut, at least. I wouldn’t be surprised if they approached you with their offers by next week.

“They don’t need to do that-!” MK raised his hands up in defense, but then he paused, stroking his chin. “Well, wait a second. I could ask them to stop trying to conquer the world.” 

Red Son scoffed, pointing at MK with his chopsticks. “Don’t push your luck.” He placed the garbage in the take out bag to toss away later.

“Okay, well what if I asked to hang out with you some time?” MK moved closer to Red Son. “Or, is that also too much to ask for?” 

“Please.” Red Son snorted. “You saved my life. In some courts, that alone is enough to give you my-”

Suddenly, Red Son stopped talking. His eyes widened as he propped his chin up in his hand, his epiphany sending him down a wild spiral of a thought.

“Uhh, Red Son?” MK waved his hand in front of Red Son’s face. “You good?” 

Yes, yes, this did occur sometimes, once every century of so. Demon courtships so often relied on great shows of power to prove one was a worthy partner, but just as important was the ability to provide and care for your potential spouse. So, in some circles, should a demon save someone’s life, it was proof enough that they were an ideal suitor. 

Red Son remembered hearing a scandal when he was a child, about a young prince abandoning his fiance for a lowly medic who had saved him from a terrible illness. When his mother heard the story, she smirked into her tea. “Well, if his intended were a half-decent partner, the prince would never have gotten sick in the first place. The good doctor has proven himself the more worthy contender for the prince's hand." 

His parents would never accept it if they learned Red Son wanted MK. But if they learned MK wanted Red Son…

“MK.” Red Son gripped MK’s shoulders. He stared at Red Son, baffled by the now determined look on his face. “When my parents approach you, ask for me.” 

MK tilted his head, an awkward smile on his face. “Ask as in like…ask to talk to you?” 

“Wha-No!” Red Son groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I mean ask them to have me as your reward.” 

MK’s face was about as red as his bandana. “Wait, what?!” 

"Saving someone's life is a socially acceptable form of courtship for demons," Red Son explained. "It's not often done, since saving someone's life tends to be entirely circumstantial, but it proves that as a suitor you're more than capable of caring for your partner and protecting them from harm. It would be entirely reasonable for you to ask my parents for my hand."

"Wait, Red Son- MK barely seemed able to keep up with Red Son, but he continued to speak. "The fact that you saved my life will damage their reputation, so they’ll do whatever they can to keep you quiet. If anything, having a suitor of the Demon Bull Heir be the Monkey King’s successor will raise their prestige . Our family would be connected to Sun Wukong, which would ward off anyone who wished to potentially invade our territory. And you’re powerful enough that most demons wouldn’t even question that my parents allowed you to court me, so there’s no real risk of a scandal.” 

"And because you’re a potential son-in-law-” A strangled noise escaped MK’s lips at the word son-in-law, “ There’s a chance they may actually attempt to cut down on their more… violent attempts to take over the world. I can’t make any promises, of course, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they searched for alternative methods of conquering the mortal realm. At the very least, I would be exempt from fighting against you. They couldn't possibly expect me to fight my partner!

"So long as I pretend to protest for the first few months, my parents shouldn't suspect a thing. And because you've already proven yourself to be a capable partner and the union was agreed upon, it wouldn't be traitorous of me to actually grow fond of you." Red Son gripped MK tighter. "It's perfect!" 

“Okay, okay, hold on, Red Son,” MK grabbed Red Son’s arms. “I don’t want to ask for you like you’re property- ” 

“Of course you’re not asking for me like I’m property.” Red Son scoffed. “You’re asking for me like an unwitting political pawn. There’s a difference.” 

“HOW IS THERE ANY DIFFERENCE-?!” Red Son clamped MK’s mouth shut. “Keep quiet!” he hissed. “There’s bullclones patrolling just outside my room!"

“And besides,” Red Son removed his hands from MK’s mouth. “It’ll only look that way. My parents don’t need to know the actual truth.”

“Oh, and what’s the truth exactly?” MK crossed his arms, leaning towards Red Son with narrowed eyes. 

“That I orchestrated this plan,” Red son moved closer to MK’s ear, speaking in a tone so soft it surprised him, “because I’m in love with you,” He held MK’s shoulders, dipping his head into the crook of MK’s neck. “And I miss your hands in my hair."

MK stayed silent for a beat before embracing Red Son. MK's fingers threaded through his locks. Red Son sighed in relief at the touch, pressing himself tighter against MK. MK laughed, and Red Son could feel its rumble against his chest. “You know, I realized you loved me that night,” MK muttered into Red Son’s ear, “But you never actually said it. It's really nice to hear.” Red Son could hear the wide grin in MK's voice. “You should say it all the time.” 

Red Son snorted. “If I said it all the time, wouldn’t it lose its meaning?” 

MK hummed for a moment before coming to a choice. “Nah. Plus, if you didn’t love me, you’d probably just tell me. Or, burn my stuff to the ground.” 

Red Son laughed. “Fair enough.” He pulled himself out of MK’s neck to look at him properly.

The Demon Bull Fortress was never a good place to go stargazing. The volcanic smoke and ash blocked out the night sky nearly every evening. But in that moment, Red Son got to see all the lights in the universe in his bed as he ran his hands through his hair and told him he loved him. There were no honking cars or creeping fears to stop Red Son as he tucked a lock of MK’s hair back, dipping his hand down to cup his cheek. “I love you, Xiaotian.” 

MK broke into a grin, hands cradling the back of Red Son’s head. “I love you too.” 

They stayed like that for a moment, flustered and eager as they grinned at each other. But with each passing moment, Red Son realized that MK hadn’t quite caught the fourth word of his confession. 

“Xiaotian,” Red Son tilted his head. 

“Yeah?” MK asked dreamily, his expression so lovesick his pupils practically turned to hearts. 

“No, no, Xiaotian. ” Red Son repeated, a bit more annoyed now. “You’d think you’d remember the code you came up with.”

MK blinked, dumbfounded, before realization smacked the back of his head. “OH! Oh. Oh.” He stared at Red Son. “Sorry, I just thought you were calling me by my name to be like, I dunno, romantic, or something-” 

“I’m allowed to have more than one reason to call you by your name.” Red Son deadpanned. 

“Okay, okay, fair.” MK moved closer to Red Son, placing his hands on his shoulders and sitting up to get some height. “But you know, for future reference, if you want to kiss you can just ask-” 

“Xiaotian-!”

“I’m doing it! MK looked down at Red Son, somewhat flustered. “I haven’t kissed someone in a while, give me a second to work up to it.”

Red Son blanched. “You’ve kissed someone before?”

“I mean, like, ages ago. It was high school, on a dare, it wasn’t really that romantic.” MK admitted. “You’re the first person I’ve really wanted to kiss though, so, uh, I'm a little nervous, not gonna lie.” He laughed awkwardly. “Like, yeah, I want to kiss you, and I even kissed you on your neck and stuff that night, but this is your lips we’re talking about here.” MK leaned closer as he spoke. “And you would also be kissing me, which is a whole other thing-” 

Red Son groaned, tipping his head back dramatically. “Could you get on with it already?” Red Son placed his hands on either side of MK’s waist, glaring. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you for over a month now, and if I have to wait another second because you can’t stop babbling, I’m gonna-” 

MK’s lips were soft and warm against his. One hand cupped Red Son’s scarred cheek while the other held the back of his neck. From how they were positioned, MK seemed to loom over Red Son, enveloping him entirely in a golden warmth.

Red Son sighed into the kiss, shutting his eyes and letting the heavens cradle him. 

“You’re joking, right?”

Red Son scoffed as he gestured at the kart racing track. It was barely the size of a gymnasium, the only real challenge being the small handful of sharp turns that any amateur racer could pass. “This is pathetic. I’ve raced through more complex tracks as a toddler.” 

“Uh, you went racing as a toddler?” MK leaned over to look at Red Son with a troubled expression. “That doesn’t sound safe.” 

“No, I-that’s not the point!” Red Son’s hair and free hand burst into flames, but the one which held MK’s didn’t even spark. No matter how fiery he got, Red Son was always careful to keep whatever part of him closest to MK untouched by the flame. It was a small act that showed the kind of attention to detail Red Son put into everything and everyone he loved. 

“Come on, Red Boy,” Mei slapped Red Son’s back so hard it extinguished his flames. “Kart racing is fun! Plus, no matter what the track is, you’ll be eating my dust.” She skipped towards the race karts with a grin. 

Red Son rolled his eyes, but MK could see the twinkle of fondness in them as he watched Mei choose her vehicle. He still had difficulties showing his affections. Even with his parents reluctantly agreeing to give their son’s hand to the Monkie Kid to “human court” (a term they had found abhorrent), Red Son still had his own hang-ups about openly admitting he enjoyed their company. But, he did care. MK could tell from how he would help Mei dye her hair and paint her nails, or how he would heat his hands to massage MK’s back after a brutal training session. 

And it’s not like Red Son was alone. They were both getting better about talking out their issues, their late night drives more and more frequent. It was a small, sacred space for them, where they could whisper to each other all the things they couldn't say to anyone else, and have someone who loved them untangle their mess and hold their hand. 

Well, maybe sacred wasn't the right word, because they usually wound up crawling into the back seat. Maybe heavenly fit better. 

So, no, MK didn’t mind that he had to infer Red Son’s affections every now and then. He heard him loud and clear. 

MK smiled, bumping his shoulder against Red Son’s bicep. “Ready to lose to Mei?”

Red Son snorted. “Are you ready to come in third place?” 

“Uhh, I’m sorry, who beat who in the last race we competed in?” MK leaned into Red Son, jeering without any real venom to it. 

“Oh please,” Red Son snarked. “You won because you joined forces with the Dragon Girl. And she’s not looking to make any alliances now.” 

“Well then, maybe we should make an alliance,” MK offered, grabbing Red Son’s other hand to swing their arms. “So we can defeat her together,” 

A smirk crawled up Red Son’s face. “As satisfying as it would be to relish in sweet victory with you, I doubt the karts here could handle the both of us inside them at once.” He tapped MK’s nose. “We can destroy the Dragon girl some other time.”  

Red Son had made it clear he didn’t enjoy sappy public displays of affection, and MK never wanted to make Mei feel like a third wheel, but in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to tug Red Son down by his coat collar to kiss him. But, since they would have to wait until they were alone in Red Son’s car for something like that, MK instead opted to give the knuckles of Red Son’s fingers a quick peck. 

A puff of smoke plumed out of Red Son’s bangs. “Xiaotian!” Red Son hissed. 

MK laughed, giving Red Son a toothy grin. “Xiaotian as in ‘I’m mad at you’ or Xiaotian as in, like, Xiaotian? ” He wiggled his eyebrows. 

“Xiaotian as in ‘I’m going to run you over if you keep acting like a noodle brain.’” Red Son snapped. 

He walked away to the race karts, but when MK grabbed his hand, Red Son intertwined their fingers. He told MK once that he liked when MK’s hands were holding him in some way. Red Son described it with all sorts of flowery language about gold and warmth and light, but honestly, MK figured that Red Son just liked knowing that MK was there. 

MK squeezed Red Son’s hand tight. Red Son's love was warmer than the campfires MK used to huddle by, warmer than the fiery debates with Mei over car batteries that raised the temperature of a room, warmer than his hand when it grazed MK's temple to tuck a lock of his hair. But it didn’t burn him. It didn’t push him away. It didn't insist MK was a haunting image, dragging him to Diyu.

Red Son squeezed right back, welcoming the touch.