The Two Kings

Dumpling Destruction

A/N: Sorry this was a little late! I've been sick for the past week and a half, but I even added a little drawing to compensate! now on with this garbage dump of a chapter! 

Parker hadn't left his room since The Sleep Bug incident. Days had bled together into a haze, but it felt like weeks. His bed had become a prison, the sheets tangled around him like chains. Exhaustion weighed on him, yet sleep refused to come—evident in the wild mess of his hair and the deep bags under his eyes that seemed heavy enough to carry a lifetime of burdens.  

His friends were worried.  

Especially MK.

MK stood in the middle of the noodle shop, pacing furiously, brow furrowed in deep thought. "Alright, think! How do we get Parker out of there?" He rubbed at his temple as if it might help spark a solution.  

Tang, sitting at the counter, adjusted his glasses and tried to follow MK's rambling. "Tell me again what Parker said at the library?"  

MK stopped mid-pace and jabbed a pen toward Tang for emphasis. "Something something mom—something something trauma!"  

"Helpful," Tang deadpanned.  

Mei, sprawled over her chair with her phone, chimed in lazily. "First time Parker's remembered anything, though."  

"Exactly!" MK exclaimed, flailing the pen in the air like a sword. "It's like...like someone else was talking for him, you know? Like another person!"  

Pigsy, behind the counter ladling noodles into a bowl, frowned as he passed it to MK. "Another person? You mean, like..." He paused meaningfully. "A split personality?"  

MK stilled, the idea sinking in. "Huh. Maybe." He tucked the steaming bowl of Dan Dan noodles carefully into a bag. "Doesn't matter. I'll bring it up when I see him."  

"Good luck with that," Mei muttered, barely looking up from her phone. "Sandy couldn't even get him to open the door, and you know how much Parker loves him."  

MK swallowed hard but steeled himself. "I've got noodles," he said determinedly.  

"Noodles won't fix trauma," Tang quipped.  

MK shot him a look, gripping the bag tighter. "You don't know that."  

Upstairs...  

MK hesitated at Parker's door, bag of noodles in hand. The silence behind it was unnerving. He knocked once, gently. "Hey, Parker? It's me."  

No response.  

"Brought you some noodles. Your favorite." His voice was careful, light, as though afraid he might startle Parker into disappearing completely.  

Still nothing. MK sighed, resting his forehead against the door for a moment before trying again. "Listen, man. I...I know you're hurting. But you don't have to deal with this alone, okay?"  

A faint sound. Soft. Like the shuffle of feet. MK's head snapped up as he watched the doorknob twitch slightly, then turn.

The door cracked open, slow and hesitant, and Parker appeared in the gap. He looked wrecked—his hair a wild mess, sticking up in every direction; his clothes rumpled, like he'd been wearing them for days. Deep shadows clung to his hollowed eyes, and his face was pale, drawn.

He didn't say anything as he opened the door wider, but there was something fragile in the way his eyes met MK's—like glass about to shatter.

"Hey," MK said softly, almost stunned Parker had come out at all.