Monkie kid Oneshots(Public!)

Hanahaki AU ("Shadowpeach")

(Cherish the moments while they last.)

Suggested by WolfHunter_stardust

◇Blood◇
◇Fast Paced At the End◇

MK knocked on Wukong's cabinet door. The island itself was more silent than before, only the occasional chips or monkey would echo around.
MK didn't know what they were saying but could notice the chirps sounded softer and lower than the usual happy loud ones.

"Monkie King? Are you in there?" No one responded. MK sighed and placed a hand on the door, he couldn't simply barge in. What if his mentor was in there and he then gets a scolding for not knowing when to enter people's homes without permission.

"I'll be in the noodle shop..." MK stepped away from the door, "If you want to come out and see me or something, of course." He finally stepped away, turning his back against the cabin as he slowly made his way to the water curtain.
The sound of water being moved could be heard before it closed shut and went back it's unmagical state.

The cabin door creaked open. A tired golden eye peeked through the crack, checking to see if MK actually left. A sigh left his lips as he closes the door again. He sat down on his couch, tail moving uselessly beside him as he let his tense muscles try to relax.

Wukong rubbed his eyes, tears were close to breaking free but he pushed them aside seeing no use of having such an emotion showing.

He had stayed awake, for days on end. He knew he couldn't die, of course, but it didn't stop the pain from surging through him. He felt tired beyond recognition, eye bags had carved their way into Wukong's skin.
Usually, he'd stay awake only for two days max..but being awake on end for almost two weeks is what Wukong saw as over the edge.

Even for him.

"What's going on.." He whispered to himself, he tries to close his eyes, only succeeding a miniature minute before coughing violently and buclking foward. His relaxed muscles tensed instantly, he has never felt like this type of level of shit.

His throat burned, on end, if he were to look into a mirror and open his mouth he bet he could've seen blood tinting the edge of his throat.

It felt like spines were rasping against his skin, inside, he felt like he was on constant fire. The kind that could hurt him.

"Shittt.." Wukong slurred out, it was raspy. He desperately needed water.

But he desperately needed sleep. He needed to figure out what this stupid thing keeping him awake was.
But he didn't know anything along the lines with, continous coughing, blood(at times), and weirdly enough not even a week earlier. He had been throwing up purple petals. Of which kind of flower?
He had no clue, but he for sure knew that, when someone's sick. They're not supposed to throw up petals and feel like shit.

Wukong wiped his mouth, his nose scrunched up when he saw that he was again bleeding. He let out a shaky sigh, it hurt more than what he wanted and he winced again.

He wiped away the blood he could, getting up and heading into his restroom.
Wukong did have– correction– had a mirror. Now it was broken shards on the floor. They wouldn't hurt him even if he stepped on him, which was his lucky thing, he didn't even have the urge to even pick a shard.
Wukong passed by the broken mirror, he would have looked in the mirror to look at his face and see how bad he looks, buttt he got angry and broke the mirror. Almost three days ago.

Wukong grabbed a towel and wiped his mouth, only smudges of blood stained the cloth.
He breathed in the best he could, sounding like a pug taking its last breath, he shook his head.
He could never get sick, he was immortal, why was he sick now? Out of everything he could catch he catches something that he's never heard of. Not even in myths, stories, nothing. It gave him a pang of worry for himself, but he reminded himself, "𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘦." It made him relax for awhile before he started to cough again.