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Liu Kang stands before the tarnished silver mirror- one of the few to be found in Raiden’s temple- and frowns, shifting uncomfortably. The sleeveless shirt isn’t so different from his normal clothing, but the pants...surely jeans are not meant to be so tight, but he has no frame of reference to claim otherwise. He already finds himself hoping he will not have to fight in something so restrictive, but he is less likely to need to if he does not stick out like a sore thumb in New York City, and he knows enough of the world outside the temple- and across the ocean- to know that the garb of a monk will bring him unwanted attention.
An American police officer at least sounds more promising than many of the lowlifes they have been assured lately are chosen. Certainly better than the disgusting excuse for a man from whom he had taken his own mark. Liu Kang does his best to remain optimistic, to retain his faith that the gods make such choices for a reason, but it grows more and more difficult with each undeserving soul that he finds, marked by luck or chance or as a reward for senseless slaughter. Not one of them has proven a worthy champion yet, so the search continues.
There is a familiar flash of blue behind him, accompanied by a sudden rush of air, and he only startles for a brief moment as Kung Lao materializes from the floor, immediately wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him back into an easy embrace.
“Must you do that to go from one room to the next?” Liu Kang asks, shaking his head with an exasperated chuckle.
“I’m practicing,” Kung Lao responds with a shrug, turning his head to kiss Liu Kang’s temple, angling carefully to keep the razor-sharp edge of the hat into which he had materialized away from his face. “A little farther each day. Eventually I won’t need Lord Raiden to send me where I am needed.”
Liu Kang isn’t entirely certain about that- surely there must be limits, as much as Kung Lao always wants to push them- but cannot resist leaning back into his embrace with a contented sigh. He has spent much of the day trying to calm the nervous flutter in his stomach at the realization that he is about to be out in the world alone for the first time since he was a vulnerable child, but Kung Lao’s touch soothes him more than any amount of meditation or mental reassurance. “Be careful,” he says, a hint of laughter lingering in his voice, “or you will leave half of yourself somewhere and I will have to piece you back together again.”
Kung Lao snorts. “Funny.” With one hand, he reaches up to remove the hat, setting it on a table within arm’s reach, and takes advantage of its absence to lightly rest his head against Liu Kang’s. The fingers of his other hand hook into the belt loops of Liu Kang’s jeans, giving an experimental tug as he studies their reflection in the mirror. “I like these,” he says, voice almost too casual.
Liu Kang cannot entirely keep the grimace from his face. “I do not.”
Kung Lao laughs, turning his partner to face him. “They flatter you.” The words are still light, but there is a familiar worry wrinkle between his furrowed brows, and after a moment, he murmurs, “... But I do not like the idea of you being so far away without me.”
“Neither do I,” Liu Kang admits quietly. “But it was going to happen someday. We cannot always be together.”
We were supposed to be, Kung Lao’s eyes say, but they are too old now, too practical, and they both know that they cannot forever be little boys joined at the hip. They have pledged themselves not only to each other, but to Earthrealm, and that duty must come first, though in the most traitorous corner of Liu Kang’s heart, it will always be secondary. He leans in to rest his forehead against his partner’s, eyes closed and silent, focused only on Kung Lao’s presence, on allowing their breathing to fall into a rhythm together. Kung Lao’s fingers comb gently through his hair, a callused thumb coming to rest on his cheekbone, and Liu Kang suddenly finds himself even more loath to part from his shield and protector. He fears less for his safety than for his stability, thrown into what may as well be another realm without the fixed point that grounds him, keeps the roaring inferno within him that he still has not fully tamed at bay.
But he must, if he is to stand on his own two feet as a champion, and as Kung Lao’s equal. And he must do so soon, unless they wish to be caught like this- though he cannot bring himself to care much if they are. Raiden knows- he is a god, so he must, even if he has said nothing of it beyond the way his unsettling, radiant gaze occasionally lingers between them. And though Liu Kang respects the other monks, he and Kung Lao answer to no one else here.
“I will only be a few days,” Liu Kang murmurs. “This one should be easy to find.” If nothing goes awry also goes unsaid, hanging in the few inches of space between them- on his own mission or Kung Lao’s, though his quest is much closer to home. Kung Lao nods, still silent, until he suddenly pulls back, an idea of some sort flashing in his eyes. Reaching up, he unties the blood-red cord that holds the top half of his hair- it falls immediately into his eyes, too long by half, and he shakes his head in annoyance. Liu Kang laughs softly, brushing it to the side. “What are you doing?”
“Give me a moment…” Kung Lao mumbles, as much to himself as to Liu Kang. He snaps the cord in half in the middle, tucking one piece into his belt and holding the other for a moment between his thumb and forefinger. Liu Kang stands statue-still, curious but utterly trusting, as Kung Lao begins fiddling with the hair behind his ear, too far back for Liu Kang to see what he is doing. His lower lip is caught between his teeth as he works, as it always is when he is concentrating, and Liu Kang cannot help but find it endearing, even when he accidentally tugs a little too hard. After a long, quiet moment, the motion of his fingers ceases, and he nods, lips curling into an uncharacteristically gentle smile.
“There.”
Liu Kang turns back to the mirror, and his heart jumps suddenly into his throat.
The little peek of red is barely visible within the fall of dark hair, wrapped securely around a small braid. “Protection from evil?” he asks with a small, oddly strangled laugh.
Kung Lao shakes his head. “I trust you to handle that yourself.” He fiddles with the end of the braid, cheeks flushing the barest hint of embarrassed pink. “I just…wanted you to have something of mine with you, when I can’t be.”
Connection, then. A red string has a hundred meanings that Liu Kang could dutifully recite, but all of them pale in comparison to the fact that it is a piece of Kung Lao, a physical manifestation of the thread that binds their souls- that will keep them connected, across oceans or realms or whatever may come between them. “Who knew you were so sentimental?” he teases softly- he knew, of course, but it is contrary enough to the image of the brash warrior that others see when they look at Kung Lao that he cannot help but be amused as much as he is touched and hopelessly in love.
This side is for him alone, and is the one thing in the world he wishes selfishly to keep from all others.
“Come here,” he murmurs, plucking the other half of the cord from Kung Lao’s belt, and Kung Lao obediently lowers his head so that Liu Kang can comb his fingers through his hair in turn. The remaining length of the cord is more than enough to hold it up as it was, and his breath catches when Kung Lao stands and looks straight into his eyes, almost through them. He is as handsome as ever, but the hint of red in his hair catches Liu Kang’s eye as it never did before. It means something now that they share it, something he chooses not to name- a ghost, perhaps, of the marriage they can never have while their lives are as they are.
For now, it is enough.
From outside comes a sudden, deafening crack of thunder that signals that their time is up, and as one, they fall into each other’s arms, clinging intensely, grasping handfuls of fabric and hair, fingers digging into warm skin.
“Be safe,” Kung Lao whispers, voice thick with emotion. “Come back to me.”
“I will,” Liu Kang replies between kisses. “And you to me.”
Kung Lao nods, and loosens his arms so that Liu Kang can reluctantly step away. “Don’t worry,” he adds with a smirk and a tap on Liu Kang’s hip, “I promise to get you out of these pants as soon as you return. I will not let you suffer a moment longer than necessary.”
That earns him a playful smack on the arm, but also a laugh as Liu Kang’s heart lightens. “I will hold you to that,” he calls as he walks from the room, head high, toward the flash of lightning and the next step on his journey.
He can do this. He can do anything that his duty requires of him- anything he must to protect his realm and everything in it that he loves. They will be reunited soon. And after all, he reminds himself, brushing his fingers over the little braid- no matter where he goes from this moment forward, he will never truly be alone.