Chapter Text
He has half a second to decide.
He never believed in this stupid rebellion in the first place. Nothing said about Wukong’s abilities; this was the Jade Emperor they were talking about. He’s practically a god. Who on earth, let alone the celestial realms, could stand a chance against him? But Wukong is a hard guy to ignore. Ironic, since that seems to be the only thing he does to Macaque these days. Ignore him.
Wukong is charismatic in a sort of roundabout way even though for all intents and purposes he really shouldn’t be. He is brash, and pushy, and loud, and doesn’t listen. But he’s also cheerful, and ambitious, and he lights up the room when he walks in no matter what. His personality is so big it affects everyone in a twenty mile radius. And the majority of that blinding charisma, all those sunny smiles and playful touches, are directed at Macaque. His best friend. His equal.
We can’t fail, he says, throwing an arm around Macaque’s shoulders. I’m way too powerful for that. And with all of you helping, especially you, there’s no way we can lose. Trust me. We’ll kick some celestial butt and make it home in time for lunch.
Macaque is too devoted for his own good.
Wukong is wrong, though, as Macaque knew he would be. He knew, not because of any magic he could weave, but because he knows Wukong, and he knows his own logic isn’t enough to save them when the king really gets his mind set on something. Foolishly, maybe, Macaque thought he might be wrong. He knows he comes off as a coward for being the only person with any sense of fucking self preservation around here, but he trusts himself above anybody else. And despite that, there is still a horrible little seed of hope sewn into his heart that hangs on until the very end.
Maybe Wukong is right. Maybe they are strong enough to do it. Maybe all those months he spent ignoring Macaque’s increasingly desperate pleas to rethink it will actually pay off, and Wukong will once again get to have the last word, teasing him with See? Told you everything would be okay, bud, you gotta listen to me more often. You worry for nothing.
But then the actual battle comes, and Macaque and Wukong are separated, and Wukong is yelling for him to get up here and join him, and the celestial army is closing in, and Macaque needs to make a decision very quickly.
***
Macaque is expecting Wukong to be angry. That doesn’t make it hurt any less when he’s proven right.
It takes a while for Macaque to locate him. He spends days meditating, casting his hearing out as far as he can, listening for any hint of where they’ve taken him or what they’re doing. It’s really only probably a week before he finds him chained under the mountain.
Wukong looks up when Macaque portals in, and there is no love or excitement in his eyes. Only white-hot, unfiltered rage. Most of his body is concealed under the rock, but he’s visibly tense, his single exposed hand practically shaking with anger.
Macaque has clawed his way through space to find him so frantically that he has prepared nothing to say. It doesn’t matter if he had, though, because Wukong starts talking almost immediately.
“Oh, look who it is!” Wukong says, mock-cheerfully. “My best friend! Really happy to see you, bud! Where’ve you been?”
Macaque approaches cautiously. He’s not expecting Wukong to try and hurt him, he’s never raised a hand to Macaque in anger in the entire time they’ve known each other, but he’s looking manic, completely different from the Wukong Macaque knows and loves. He looks wild. “Are you...okay?” Macaque asks tentatively, wincing as soon as the words leave his mouth.
Wukong bares his teeth in a poor imitation of a smile. “Fuckin’ peachy.”
Macaque swallows and looks over the chains encircling Wukong’s stone prison as he comes closer. A single glance at the various seals and he already knows it’s no use. He doesn’t recognize any of the sigils at all. Macaque might be powerful, but this is beyond any of his capabilities, he knows that without even trying. For how lax the celestial realm was in their security, Macaque had been stupidly thinking it would be a simple thing to break in and out.
Macaque stops walking when he’s a foot away from Wukong. Close enough to see the dark circles under his eyes, how unkempt his hair is.
There’s tear tracks on his cheeks too. Faint, but there. Of course he wouldn’t be able to wipe them away.
Macaque lays a hand on the thick golden chain and grips it, tugging a bit. It doesn’t even move an inch under his grasp. “I didn’t know this was their plan,” he says uselessly.
“Does it really matter?” snaps Wukong.
Macaque’s eyes widen. “I—yes?” Wukong clearly doesn’t know what Macaque’s split-second decision was, of course he had no way of knowing. Macaque needs to tell him, though what good it will do at this point remains to be seen. “Wukong, I’m—I’m sorry I ran, I thought—”
“Ran?” interrupts Wukong, tilting his head like he doesn’t understand. “Abandoned me when I needed you, you mean?”
“We were losing, Wukong,” Macaque says, knowing it’s not the right thing to start with but unable to communicate anything else. “We’re not more powerful than Heaven, no matter how much you think that’s true.”
“So you just gave up?” says Wukong, eyes flashing. “Let me take the fall for myself?”
“They would have captured us both!” Macaque yells. His own voice startles him. It bounces around the emptiness of the cave, making him feel vaguely disoriented. “I thought if at least one of us got away—”
“Then it’d be better than both of us bring trapped under here forever, sure, got it,” says Wukong breezily. “So, just leave me all alone for eternity with the punishment while you slip away totally unbothered. No, for real, I completely understand.” He’s still not listening to Macaque at all. As if he ever fucking did. Macaque knows he’s scared, and desperate, and angry, but he needs to calm him down to allow Macaque the chance to explain himself.
Macaque reaches for him then, cradling his face in shaking hands, praying to every deity that’s listening that Wukong doesn’t try to shake him off. He doesn’t, but he doesn’t lean into Macaque’s touch at all, just stares him down with more poison in his eyes than Macaque has ever seen before. Macaque tries to ignore how much that look alone hurts him and pushes on, rubbing gently at the tear stains with his thumbs and willing Wukong’s gaze to soften. “Wukong, I left so that I could come back,” he says, desperate for Wukong to hear him. “Please. If they captured both of us then it really would have been the end of everything, but if I was free, I could come back and spring you out.”
Wukong doesn’t look swayed at all. Macaque supposes he really has no reason to be. Knowing the logic behind the action doesn’t really change much, especially now. “Then do it,” Wukong hisses, like he already knows it’s impossible.
Macaque also knows it’s not going to work, but he tries anyway, trying to use his shadow magic to spread across Wukong’s skin and phase him through the rock, but the seal below Wukong’s face flashes and Macaque’s magic fizzles before the inky purple even leaves his fingertips. He tries again, with his own body this time, but his hands just slip through Wukong’s face and slam against the rock. Macaque calls off the magic, hanging his head in shame. “I can’t.”
He hears Wukong chuckle humourlessly. “Right.” His voice is choked, like he’s holding back tears. Macaque looks up at him again and Wukong isn’t even looking at him, just staring off into the blackness of the cave with that same wild rage.
This is going just about as well as Macaque thought it would. For how well they know each other, Macaque has never had Wukong even slightly mad at him before, and he truly does not know what to do with it. He’s certainly never seen Wukong so angry he’s cried before. He wants to pry Wukong out of that mountain and wrap him in his arms and never let him go. He wants to brush every tear away. He knows Wukong wouldn’t let him if he tried.
Macaque tries to touch his face again and this time Wukong does shake him off, violently shaking his head so Macaque’s hands barely graze his skin. He still won’t look at him, and Macaque can see his eyes are starting to fill with tears. “Wukong, please,” Macaque begs, feeling on the verge of tears himself. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
Wukong ignores him, determinedly not meeting his gaze. “I thought you would at least stay with me,” he says bitterly, and Macaque feels his heart break. “I thought you...”
Wukong trails off and just shakes his head, staring at the ground.
“I’m sorry,” Macaque whispers. It feels like the only thing he can say right now. Wukong ignores him. Just squeezes his eyes shut and turns his head further away.
The cave is eerily quiet. Macaque doesn’t know what to do. Nothing he says is helping, and Wukong looks even more upset than when he first arrived. The one and only thing that could make him feel better is being set free, and it’s the one thing Macaque can’t do. The one fucking thing Macaque planned on doing, and he can’t, and now his best friend hates him because he’s doomed him to an eternal punishment underground, not even able to move or feel the sun on his face.
The only thing Macaque can do is leave him and give him the privacy to cry, or stay, and potentially make things worse by flaunting his own freedom in Wukong’s face. But leaving would also make things worse; probably would just confirm all Wukong’s fears that Macaque doesn’t care about him at all.
Macaque turns around and leans back against the mountain, hugging his arms. He stares at his feet in silence as he and Wukong just sit there together. Maybe if he gave Wukong some time to cool off he’d be okay. He’s said his piece, it’s really all he can do at this point. Maybe staying really is making it worse.
Wukong seems to think so too. “Oh, so now you’re staying?” he says, his voice still unsteady with unshed tears. “Little fucking late for that. Is this to ease your own guilt?”
Part of it is. Macaque feels so weighed down by guilt that it hurts. But the other part... “No,” says Macaque, after a moment. “I just don’t want you to be alone.”
At first Wukong says nothing. Macaque can’t tell if the silence is worse than the yelling. It goes on for so long that Macaque is considering just giving up and leaving Wukong alone altogether, but then Wukong’s breath hitches, and Macaque turns sharply just in time to see a single tear slip down his cheek. His eyes are still screwed shut, but he’s not trying to hide his face, just hangs there, trapped and trembling as much as he can as more tears start falling against the stone floor.
Despite the fact that his last attempt to touch Wukong resulted in Wukong shaking him off, Macaque tries again, reaching for his face and hesitantly brushing his fingertips against Wukong’s cheek. If Wukong shakes him off again then Macaque will stop trying, but he’s crying now. Macaque has to try one last time.
Wukong doesn’t open his eyes when Macaque’s hand cups his cheek. His breathing gets a little louder, like he’s seconds away from properly sobbing, and then he seems to give up, turning his head and pressing into Macaque’s touch.
How much he must be suffering, to seek comfort from Macaque right now. The person he believes got him trapped here.
Macaque moves forward, hesitantly, and tries his level best to wrap his arms around Wukong as much as he can with only his head sticking out of the mountain. It doesn’t feel comfortable at all, let alone comforting, but Wukong leans into it anyway, pressing his forehead against Macaque’s shoulder and muffling his sobs into his shirt. Macaque holds him as close as the mountain will allow, stroking his hair as he cries, hoping it’s doing something, anything, to ease his pain.
“I am so fucking mad at you,” Wukong chokes out in between each heaving breath. He doesn’t try to shake Macaque off him.
Macaque just nods against his hair and tightens his hold on him. “I know,” he whispers, through his own tears.
***
Macaque leaves again. What else can he do? He is still alive and free, after all, and there is nothing in the cave that can sustain him.
He does not try to free Wukong again. It would be no use to try. He doesn’t know any celestial magic, he hasn’t studied a bit of it. It crosses his mind to try, but he doesn’t know where to begin. He may have evaded punishment, but it’s not like he can just waltz up to Heaven and ask for a fucking tutor. He knows his involvement in the rebellion hadn’t gone unnoticed. Heaven must just think he’s too much of a coward to bother searching for him. Either that or Macaque truly is that good at hiding, which is a flattering thought, but who knows how much truth it holds. He knows he’s a coward. He’s always been a coward and he can’t stop.
Wukong didn’t ever think he was a coward. Wukong thought he was anxious, and a bit nagging sometimes, but never a coward. He clearly didn’t give the idea much attention at all, seeing as how he never came to Macaque’s defence when Peng took shots at him in his presence. The most he’d do is shrug the words off with a smile. Mac? No way, he’s super brave. You just don’t know him like I do. No anger in his honour, no true defence like Macaque wanted. And Peng would back down immediately, not out of cowardice themselves, but with a sort of sickly smile on their face like they knew they were right and didn’t need to waste breath arguing with Wukong over it.
Under the mountain, Wukong seems to have switched sides.
His anger has not abated at all. If anything, it only seems to be getting worse the longer Macaque sticks around.
“Peng was right,” hisses Wukong. “You are a coward. Too fucking afraid of standing up for anything to fight for what’s right. You said you would fight with me! And then you left me when I needed you!”
Macaque takes all of it. Wukong is rightfully angry, and he deserves it, after all.
He doesn’t say anything about how Wukong spent months ignoring him as he brought up, over and over again, how flawed their plan was. He doesn’t say anything about how the rest of the brotherhood was enabling him, charmed by his reckless ambition and eager for a piece of the glory themselves.
Macaque has never longed for glory once in his life. The only thing he’s ever longed for is him. How does Wukong not see that?
Easily, it seems, as he has no problem taking out his anger on him every time Macaque shows up to visit him. Deserved? Sometimes. Macaque’s guilt over his own helplessness feels like it’s eating him alive. He’s started having anxiety attacks, which slowly progress to full blown panic attacks. One particularly rough night he genuinely thought he was going to throw up from the stress.
He didn’t. But he felt like it, for hours, right on the brink, without ever actually getting any relief.
Macaque brings him a peach one day, thinking maybe Wukong’s favourite thing in the world would cheer him up if Macaque himself couldn’t.
It ends in a screaming match. Macaque stands up for himself for the first time. As guilty as he still feels, it’s been a long time, now. Centuries. Wukong is still angry. Angry at him, for having his heart in the right place and trying to save the people he cared about.
“You’re not in this mess!” screams Wukong, his normally handsome face completely twisted in rage. “You’re still free!”
And he still doesn’t know. He still doesn’t know the lengths Macaque will go to for him, despite being ignored at every turn. Fight a god? Small price to pay. Be a good best friend? Macaque fucking tried. Wukong is too strong, too proud, too full of hubris to see his own flaws.
If Macaque hadn’t ran, would they have been able to pull out a win? Maybe. But if Wukong hadn’t started the rebellion? Macaque never would have had to make the decision in the first place.
Free? Macaque hasn’t been free since he met Sun Wukong.
“You put yourself here,” hisses Macaque. “Not me.”
Macaque leaves him once again. It’s the only thing he ever does nowadays.
He sits right out in the open, under the moonlight, in perfect view of anyone in Heaven who might be watching and looking for him, and screams.
Nothing happens. The moon silently watches as he cries.
***
Macaque knows, objectively, that Wukong is being forced into the journey. He’s been crowned with a circlet that shines in cruel gold, and at any misstep he’s punished with it, with all of Heaven’s power.
Macaque tamps his emotions down and bides his time, waiting. He knows his appearance will not help anything.
He regroups with the remaining brotherhood. He defends Wukong to them when they question his loyalty. Macaque has had time to cool off after their fight. He knows Wukong has been under unimaginable amounts of stress and was probably saying things he didn’t quite mean. He doesn’t actually believe Wukong doesn’t care about him at all.
Does he? Technically, he has no proof. They did not leave on good terms.
Macaque, either out of optimism or sheer stupidity, doesn’t think it’s impossible to come back from that fight. Macaque, for better or for worse, is still ready to try again.
All Macaque can do is wait for the journey to be over. After all, if everything Wukong did was for them, once his duty was done, he would come back like he promised. Macaque doesn’t quite know what they’re doing, but it can’t possibly be anything that threatens him like the rest of the brotherhood seems to believe, so he lets it go. For all he expects of Wukong, him fully doing a 180 and actively betraying all of them is too out of character for Macaque to accept.
He tracks them down and follows the party at a distance, far enough that Wukong can’t sense his presence, and observes. He doesn’t follow them the entire time—he does have a mountain to take care of in his absence, after all—but he always returns, and just watches. Watches as Wukong slowly becomes less proud, loses some of his recklessness, begins to learn patience. Learning from these new people what Macaque failed to teach him, through corporal punishment.
He does not speak of Macaque to the group. Not even once.
Macaque waits, and waits, and waits, and then the circlet is taken off and Wukong is free and Wukong stays right where he is.
Four centuries, it’s been. Four whole centuries since the rebellion, and Wukong still has not forgiven him. He’s ignoring him the same way he always has.
Wukong has never had Macaque’s best interests at heart. Look how easily he’s been replaced. Macaque feels something ugly and sick growing inside of him.
He appears to him two nights after the journey ends. Wukong has parted from the group and is off by himself. He’s not meditating, at least not magically, but he is sitting silently, with his eyes closed, a look of tranquility on his face. He’s relaxed. Docile. Macaque is so angry at him he can hardly breathe.
They’ve tamed him. Macaque never hated Wukong’s ambition, or spontaneity, or even how pushy he could be. He hated how Wukong never seemed to put him first. That’s all he wanted. To be listened to. To be considered an equal. Just them, on the mountain, forever.
And now the journey has changed him. Changed him in ways that Macaque could not.
Macaque rises out of the shadows behind him and delights in the way Wukong tenses as he realizes who has just arrived. He hasn’t turned to look at him yet. Just sits there, like he’s frozen. Scared? Impossible. Wukong isn’t scared of anything, let alone cowardly best friends.
“What happened to ‘you and me’, huh?” Macaque says in lieu of greeting. “Basking in the sun, getting fat on fruit for the rest of forever? Change your mind?”
Wukong turns around. He isn’t scared. He isn’t happy. He looks...quietly annoyed. Like Macaque isn’t worth getting angry about anymore. How fucking dare he.
“Well, look who’s finally decided to show his face again,” says Wukong, irritatingly chipper. “What have you been doing all this time? Mr. You Know I’d Help If I Could? My problems finally get too much for you?”
Is he seriously insinuating he’s angry at Macaque for not interfering with the journey and springing him out? The journey where he became real close with everybody involved, so much so that he’s been free for over 48 hours and still has not made any move to return to the mountain? “You don’t seem to have a problem with anybody here,” says Macaque bitterly. “You know, the ones who were torturing you.”
Wukong frowns. “Disciplining me.”
Macaque barely recognizes him anymore. Not under the mountain, not here. The real Sun Wukong would not be defending the people who inflicted pain on him. The real Sun Wukong would be tearing them apart for the mere idea.
“I can’t believe you,” says Macaque disdainfully. “What happened?”
He means it rhetorically, but Wukong stands up and gives him an actual answer. “What happened is that I’ve changed since we last...talked,” he spits. “No thanks to you.” And then a very cruel smile spreads across his face. “Except, actually, I should thank you. Cuz getting trapped under that mountain led me to meeting these guys, and unlike you, they’re actually helping me be a better person.”
The ugly little seed in Macaque’s heart starts growing bigger. There’s thorns in his ribcage now, choking him, threatening to tear him apart. After all Macaque has done for him, after all the attempts to make Wukong see reason, not only was he not fucking good enough, but now it’s being rubbed in his face. “I can’t fucking believe you,” Macaque breathes. “No, you know what? Actually, I can. ‘Everything I did was for us’? Bullshit. This has never been about us. Or have you even started believing your own lies?”
“Watch it, Macaque,” hisses Wukong, as if he has any authority over him whatsoever.
Macaque’s eyes widen, mock-concerned. “Watch what? My tone? Am I hurting your feelings? Oh, is the great sage so sensitive that he can’t handle his own flaws being pointed out? How long will it be til all of them realize how much of a self absorbed, narcissistic prick you are? How long til you get bored of them and abandon them for the next person who catches your fancy?”
“That is not what happened,” says Wukong fiercely through gritted teeth. His fists are clenched, shaking slightly like he’s restraining himself from launching himself forward and attacking. At this point, Macaque wishes he would. Give him fucking anything, anything but that tepid indifference.
Macaque spreads his arms wide. “Then tell me! Cuz I’d LOVE to know why my best friend dropped me after four hundred fucking years of me apologizing over and fucking over that your stupid plan failed, of me taking all the blame when none of it was my fault.”
“You abandoned me! Twice!” screams Wukong suddenly, raising his voice for the first time. He says nothing else. Just stares at Macaque with that same desperate pain he’d worn under the mountain. Waits for Macaque to defend himself against the accusation. All that time to self-reflect and Wukong hasn’t learned a fucking thing.
And Macaque finally realizes then that Wukong is never going to change for him. Maybe Macaque is far more blind than he thought he was. Or Wukong was just so charismatic that he blinded him centuries ago. Macaque has never been worth changing for.
Macaque never wanted to hurt Wukong, emotionally or physically. If that’s literally what it took for Wukong to listen, would Macaque have had the strength to do it? He doesn’t think he would have. He’s far too much of a coward for that. He loves him far too much.
“Is that still what you think?” says Macaque, resigned. He laughs, and it’s sharp, and humourless. “You never cared about me at all, did you.”
Wukong’s eyes widen, like he’s only now realizing what Macaque’s been upset about. “Macaque, that is NOT true—”
“Isn’t it?” jeers Macaque. “Isn’t it? All you have ever cared about is yourself. You’re right. Peng was right, I am a coward. I was always too afraid to accept it.”
“Macaque, listen to me,” says Wukong, taking a step forward.
“No, YOU listen to ME!” Macaque yells, wildly gesturing to himself for emphasis. His whole body is prickling with emotion, like it does right before he goes into an anxiety attack. “I am DONE with you constantly brushing me off like I am nothing! I have given you second chance after second chance, oh, maybe this time I’ll be able to convince him to slow down! Maybe this time he’ll listen to reason! Maybe this time he’ll realize that his bullshit quest for infinite power is never going to satisfy him if he alienates all of his friends while doing it! But I guess it doesn’t FUCKING matter since he can just throw them away when he gets bored and find someone else to screw over all over again!”
His body is thrumming with a very unpleasant energy that doesn’t quite feel like pure anxiety anymore. His powers are reacting to his emotions. That’s never happened before. Macaque is usually perfectly precise about that. He finds that he doesn’t care enough right now to pay it much mind. He’s so angry that the energy is getting louder, stirring the wind, ruffling his hair. And Wukong still isn’t fucking listening. He’s staring at him but his eyes are far away. He’s frozen, haunted, by something, like he’s being injured by Macaque’s words but still not hearing their true meaning.
“I devoted myself to you!” howls Macaque. “Did I believe we could win the rebellion? No! Did I fight anyway? Yes! Because that’s all I could do! Would you rather I had abandoned you earlier? Would you rather have had me refuse to fight with you at all? Would you rather I left you under that mountain all alone?”
Wukong looks away from him, stricken. He can’t even look at him anymore. It only makes Macaque’s wild anger swirl faster. “Stop ignoring me!” Macaque yells, and an unexpected shock wave of shadow magic explodes out from him, not strong enough to knock Wukong over, but enough that he braces himself against it and looks up at Macaque with a new rising apprehension. He’s scared now? Good. It’s about fucking time.
“Macaque, you need to calm down,” says Wukong, raising his voice against the hum of shadow magic that’s getting louder and louder, whipping the air into a frenzy around them. The audacity of him saying that. Who spent four centuries berating his best friend for something completely out of his control?
“Calm down?” cries Macaque hysterically, “Calm down?? I need to calm down, he says??”
Another shock wave explodes out of him, stronger this time. He’s not concerned about it. He’s never lost control of his powers before and he’s not afraid he will now. He feels good. He feels like he’s finally standing up for himself. His emotions are finally strong enough to help him get through to Wukong. Not that that matters anymore at this point. Right now all Macaque’s carefully crafted logic is out the window. He’s mad. He needs all these feelings out of him or he’s going to explode.
And Wukong looks afraid. He actually looks more afraid than Macaque thinks he’s ever seen him before. “Macaque, stop!” he yells over the screaming of the wind and the blasts of shadow magic that are erupting from him uncontrollably.
That’s the final straw for Macaque. “Stop??” he shrieks, his voice breaking pathetically. “Stop?? STOP! STOP! STOP! STOP??” He feels completely unhinged, like he’s going insane. Maybe he finally is. His powers are lifting him in the air now, hovering a few feet above the ground, and he stares down at Wukong with wild, ugly fury, barely seeing him through his watery eyes and his hair being whipped around his face as he screams so loudly his throat feels like it tears under his own voice. “YOU’RE THE ONE WHO MADE ME LIKE THIS!”
He can’t stop the magic flowing out of him and he doesn’t want to. It howls around both of them, completely out of control, blocking out the rest of the world so it's just them at the center of the storm. Through the haze of it all he sees Wukong draw his staff, and Macaque bares his teeth and summons his own. It all makes too much sense now.
Violence is the only thing Wukong responds to, after all.
***
Macaque leaves Wukong for the final time.
This time it isn’t his own choice.