Work Text:
Of course, the second Macaque leaves, Piggsy bursts into Mk’s apartment. Mk flinches but he’s wrapped in a crushing hug so quickly that that brief moment of fear is gone in an instant. He leans into Piggsy, wrapping his arms around him and sighing. Gods… he’s so tired.
“Are you alright, kid?” Piggsy asks, pulling back and sitting down beside him on the bed.
Almost absentmindedly, his dad pulls a blanket off the bed and puts it around Mk’s shoulders.
“I'm fine,” he says, trying for a smile. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
”Hey, none of that. I’m just glad you weren’t alone.”
Mk chuckles quietly. “No, I wasn’t alone. Macaque kept me company.”
Piggsy’s eyebrows raise at that but he doesn’t press. “Good. Now, are you hungry? I’ve been cookin’ your favorite all day and heh, I might’ve made a little too much. I’ve had to keep Tang away with a broom.”
Mk laughs again, a little lighter. His stomach growls, reminding him that he really hasn’t eaten anything since the whole- since the other day. He nods, climbing off his bed but keeping the blanket over his shoulders. Piggsy smiles and the two of them make their way downstairs into the noodle shop.
Tang sits at a booth, a book thicker than Mk’s torso propped up on the table and a steaming bowl of noodles shoved under his nose. Three empty bowls sit precariously stacked on the table beside him. To Mk’s surprise, Tang actually looks up from his book when they enter. He smiles.
“Mk! You’re back!”
Mk rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah. Sorry.”
He should probably say more. They all haven't really talked since the Pillar. Mk can’t get their voices out of his head, the sound of them begging him to just trust them. To come up with another way. It brings those tears back to his eyes.
He’d meant what he said to Macaque last night. He doesn’t want to die. But he still can’t shake the voice in his head telling him that this all would have been better if he had. The thought just makes that ache in his chest stronger. He wants to be here for this. He wants to hear Tang slurping on noodles and Piggsy humming as he makes Mk’s bowl.
This is his family. There’s a reason he was so ready to die for them.
But now? How the hell is he supposed to just… carry on after this?
Nothing is going to be the same again. The stolen glances his dads keep giving him are proof of that. The fact that Piggsy called Monkie King because he was worried about him is proof enough. Mk hurt them. All of them.
The clattering of a bowl being set on the table startles Mk out of his thoughts. He doesn’t even realize he was crying until Piggsy makes a concerned sort of sound and sits down beside him, pulling him back against his side.
“Hey kiddo, it’s alright. You’re okay.”
Mk squeezes his eyes shut, holding his breath and letting the worst of the wave pass over him. He doesn’t want to cry anymore. He’s so so sick of feeling like this. He’s so fucking tired.
This one passes quickly, shoved under The Rug of his mind for a later date. He knows he shouldn’t. He knows he should just tell Piggsy everything but he can’t. He can’t do this two days in a row.
Mk clears his throat, pulling away from the hug. His heart aches when Piggsy clings for a moment longer but lets him sit up. Mk busies himself with inhaling his food. It’s good, his favorite just like Piggsy promised, but he doesn’t really taste it. All he wants right now is to go upstairs, lay down and not exist for the foreseeable future. He’s so tired.
He still notices the look that his dads share over the table.
“Mk,” Tang starts, hands fiddling with the book in front of him. “You know we love you, right?”
Shit. Please no. He can’t go through this conversation again.
That nagging, annoying voice in the back of his head tells him that it’s the least he can do. Considering what he’s put all of them through recently. If he was willing to kill himself so they survive… then why can’t he force himself to listen to their concerns now?
Mk stands up quickly, hopping over the back of the booth so he doesn’t have to go around Piggsy. Even exhausted, his monkie form accommodates this well. He lands without much effort.
Piggsy and Tang give him a look and all that flighty feeling goes away. He sighs, tucking his hands into his pockets. ”I know,” he whispers. “I know. And I promise, we’ll talk later. I just-”
“Okay.”
Mk looks at Piggsy, more than a little surprised he let it go that easy. ”You’ve had a long couple days, kid. I know that. But so help me, if you start keeping shit like that away from us again-”
Mk chuckles. “Okay, okay!” His smile falls. “I’m gonna call Sandy tomorrow. It’s just- it’s hard to talk about all this when I still don’t really know what to think about it. But I promise, I’m gonna talk about it. I just… I really wanna go back to sleep.”
Pigsy's frustration seems to melt off his face. “I can live with that. Now go get some sleep; I’ll wake you up in the morning for breakfast, okay?”
Mk nods, not trusting himself to speak, and begins to long trek up to his apartment. By the time he makes it back to his bed, he’s so tired he can barely keep his eyes open. This is what he gets for not sleeping for gods knows how long. And using his monkie form. And controlling the Jade Emperor's power. And fighting Wukong at full strength. And-
He shakes his head, dislodging the thoughts before they can continue. He takes a deep breath, recalling what he said to Macaque. He wouldn’t keep pushing this shit away. He just needs a break, time to rest, and then he’ll go talk to Sandy.
It sounds so much easier when he puts it like that. As if he's been able to get this voice in his head to shut up since the Bone Demon.
Maybe it’s sheer exhaustion. Maybe it’s finally a streak of good luck, but finally, Mk falls asleep. For once, he has no bad dreams.
_______________________________________
Sandy’s boat looks the same as the last time Mk was here.
That’s the weird thing, he thinks. How the world could nearly end again, he could find out he’s a monkie demon thing, and he could nearly die for real, and the world just kept turning. The cheese tea place has a new flavor of tea, his rent was still due, and Sandy’s cats all greet him at the door.
He smiles, squatting down to pet them. They all meow and rub against him, happy to have a visitor.
“Ah, Mk,” Sandy speaks up from the doorway with a smile. “Come on in.”
He finds himself sitting on his friend’s couch, a warm tea pressed into his hands and Mo purring contentedly in his lap. Sandy doesn’t say anything as he sits across from him in an armchair, sipping his own tea. It feels a bit too much like real therapy. Mk tries not to think about it.
“Thanks for the tea, Sandy.”
That’s a safe start, he thinks. Sandy smiles, taking a long sip of his own mug before placing it on the coffee table. “Anytime, little man.”
“I don’t know where to start,” he blurts, eyes darting around the room.
His monkie form flickers a bit but he shoves it back down. Baby steps. Sandy doesn’t mention it.
“That's okay,” he says calmly. “We don’t have to get into the nitty gritty today unless you want to. You can just tell me what you’re thinking about or how you feel. Or we can just chat about something fun. There’s no pressure, Mk.”
Mk nodes, staring down at the cat in his lap. Mo stretches, his purring growing in volume. He wishes he could be that relaxed. He takes a deep breath.
“I’m scared.”Sandy nods, motioning for him to continue. “And still really tired but it’s not- it’s not just the lack of sleep anymore.” He chuckles dryly. “I’ve slept enough the past few days to make up for it but my brain doesn’t seem to get the memo. I spent so long ignoring everything that it just… hurts to think about now. “
”What were you ignoring?”
“Everything. I guess. I was ignoring where I came from, how I ended up at Piggsy’s, up until Ink Me showed up. And then he opened it all up and I- I-” Mk sighs, pulling his knees up to his chest and looking away from Sandy. “Everything I learned since then has done nothing but hurt me.”
“And that’s what you’ve been trying to avoid thinking about?”
Mk nods. “Yeah. I mean, Piggsy’s not actually my dad. I don’t have a real family. I was created by Nuwa to throw myself into the Pillar and save everyone. And the 9 headed Demon decided to fuck with me even more and make me have all this” he gestures around the room as if all his friends were sitting there. “just so I could really fucking feel how much I was hurting everyone just by existing!”
Mk pulls at his sleeves, curling in a little tighter around himself. His monkie form flickers but he’s too preoccupied to stop it. Mo continues to sleep, unbothered, as Mk’s mind races. He’s opened the monkie cage, so to speak. It all comes rushing out to him in a wave.
The sound of Macaque- Macaque begging him to find another way. Telling him it doesn’t always have to be him. He hears himself telling his friend that there is no other way. He sees the look on Macaque’s face as he whispers that he can’t know that for sure. He hears Monkie King as he calls to him. He sees the look of scared determination in his eyes as he begged the kid to not make him fight him. A plea that Mk had all but ignored.
The sounds of his family screaming for him. The feeling of hitting his mentor and actually hurting him. His fits landing with more force than he’s ever used. His fear when Monkie King chained him, tried to turn it on himself. Give himself up. The desperation when he broke through the binding spell and- and used the circlet on his own mentor.
He will never forget Monkie King’s screams, the way he still tried to get to him.
Mk doesn’t even realize he’s crying until he can’t breathe enough to continue talking. He has no idea what he’s been saying, too caught up in the vivid memories. Sandy is by his side now on the couch, one arm around him as Mk sobs. His breath catches and the panic and fear and pain of it all comes crashing into him full force.
He didn’t want to die! Can’t they all see that? Can’t they see he was trying to help them?
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I-” Mk coughs, nearly throwing up at the force of his sobs.
”Hey, hey. C’mon Monkie man you gotta breathe. Just take a minute. Don’t think about what happened, just focus on Mo and me. Deep breaths.”
It takes Mk too long to understand what Sandy is saying and even longer to register fully that he’s being held by him and that Mo is now awake, purring sadly on his lap. Still, the tears continue for a while, ripping out his strength and making his headache worse with every moment that passes. Finally, finally he runs out of tears. He lays there, hugging Sandy like a scared little kid.
The room is quiet now, too quiet without the sound of his sobs. He’s got a blanket thrown over him at some point and the sun is now much lower in the sky than it was. It’s then, of course, that he realizes that voice in his head isn’t talking right now.
It’s still there, tries to perk up at his recollection of its existence but Mk is too worn out to even yell at himself.
“I’m sorry,” he says at last, voice rough.
“Here, drink this.”
A warm cup is pressed into his hands, fresh brewed tea steaming up into his face.
“When’d you-?”
”Perks of being a demon. Drink up, Mk, you need it.”
He sips it slowly, rubbing at his eyes as the tear tracks dry. His hands shake as he hands the mug back to Sandy, only to be handed a plate of cookies.
”I made them earlier,” Sandy explains. “You gotta eat something. We can talk more, if you want, in a minute.”
Mk doesn’t realize how hungry he is until he devours half the plate. By now, he feels a bit better. Still… fragile. He knows if he tries to think about all that again he’ll break down but he also is surprised to find himself feeling just a tad lighter. Like he’s lifted some of the weight off of himself.
“Thank you, Sandy.”
Sandy smiles, patting the top of his head gently. “Anytime, kid. Seriously. I’m really glad you trusted me enough to talk about what happened.”
Mk looks down at his hands. “Even though you were there for it?”
That was something he was terrified of, going into this. He knows he hurt Sandy too when he tried to fix the Pillar. It must be so hard for him to comfort Mk after something like that.
Sandy takes a deep breath. “It was very difficult, seeing you go through this. But I wouldn’t have offered to talk to you about everything if I didn’t mean it. I care about you, kiddo. Some people are better at different aspects of taking care of their friends. I discovered a while ago that I can help people by listening to them. Letting them talk about stuff they probably can’t around anyone else. The therapy classes came later, long after, but it still boils down to me just wanting to be there for people. So yes, Mk, this last adventure was really hard on me, but seeing you trying to work through it, and already doing much better, that is what helps me too. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
Mk sniffles and somehow finds himself capable of crying some more. It’s nowhere near as strong as before, his emotions and body thoroughly wrung out, but he still hugs Sandy and buries his face in his shoulder.
It’s another long while before he finally sits back up. He stopped crying a while ago but just sitting there, just resting, had been something he couldn’t bring himself to cut short.
“I think- I think I’m done for today,” he admits.
“That’s understandable, Monkie Man. You got through a lot today.” Sandy smiles, inching the plate of cookies closer to him again. He takes one as Sandy continues. “You can stay here, if you want, and we can put on some music and make dinner, or I can call Piggsy to come pick you up. You look too tired to drive, sorry kiddo.”
“Actually, I told Monkie King I’d visit today. I can call him.”
Sandy nods, standing up and taking away their dirty dishes while Mk digs his phone out of his pocket. Dang. 7pm. He’s been here for four hours. He clears his throat before tapping on Monkie King’s contact and calling him.
“Hey bud,” Monkie King answers immediately. Mk wonders if he was waiting by the phone. “Ready for our movie night?”
Mk chuckles a little. “Yeah. Can you pick me up though? I’m at Sandy’s.”
“Of course, bud. I’ll send Macaque, he’s faster.”
Mk doesn’t have time to question why Macaque is with Monkie King because he appears out of the shadows less than a second later. His glamour is back up, revealing dark fur, two bright eyes, and a pair of normal looking ears. Mk realizes belatedly he’s still in his monkie form.
“One free trip for the Monkie Kid?”
Mk giggles, setting Mo down and standing up. He stretches, muscles sore from sitting for so long. Sandy comes out of the kitchen, one of his cats perched on his shoulder.
“Hello, Mr. Maqwack.”
Mk swears he sees Macaque smile for just a second before he’s back to his grouchy-faced self. Mk wonders if he knows the term RBF. He makes a plan to tease him about it later.
“Macaque’s gonna take me to the mountain. Faster that way. “
Sandy nods, smiling. “Of course. I’ll keep your tuktuk in my garage until you can come back to get it.”
“Thanks, Sandy.” He walks over, hugging Sandy again. “For everything.”
Big arms wrap around him, squeezing gently. “Any time. See you soon, Monkie Man.”
And with that, Macaque portals them away. Mk lands on Monkie King’s couch and manages to not gag from the rush of motion sickness that always accompanies him after shadow traveling.
Macaque appears next, leaning nonchalantly against the wall. Monkie King pokes his head out of the kitchen, smiling when he sees that they’ve arrived.
“Perfect timing! The dip is about to come out of the oven and the popcorn is almost done.”
Despite the plate of cookies Mk ate, his stomach growls. He giggles a little in embarrassment but as promised, the snacks are out quickly. He shovels chips and the still-hot dip into his mouth as Monkie King and Macaque bicker over what to watch.
“We are not watching your own series, you stuck up asshole.”
Despite his harsh words, Macaque’s smirk gives him away.
“Then what would you like to watch, you big baby?”
Monkie King has a cheeky grin of his own. Mk wonders how they can be that old and still act like teenagers.
“Maybe we should let the kid decide,” Macaque groans, trying and failing to look uninterested.
Mk takes great pleasure in choosing the Monkie King animated series and the looks on his respective mentors’ faces. As if he’d choose anything else.
Maybe he should make one for Macaque too? That’d be interesting, getting to know his past and how it interconnects with Monkie Kings. But that’s an idea for another day. Mk curls up on the couch for real, bowl of chips in his lap and a too-large soda in one hand as Macaque begrudgingly turns on the tv series. They all end up piled together on the couch like- well like a bunch of monkeys.
Mk knows that he’ll have to talk to Monkie King for real, soon. Knows that he’s gonna have to go back to Sandy’s and talk more and cry even more. But for right now, he lets himself enjoy this moment. He laughs at the cheesy plot of the series and eats his fill of snacks. He pretends not to notice Macaque and Wukong all but cuddling or how their tails intertwine even as Macaque teases him about the show. Things aren’t great but, he can admit, they are better. And that’s gotta count for something.