❝LET'S GO AND STEAL SOME FLOWERS!❞ [nezha x m!reader] love is a difficult emotion; at least he has all of eternity to figure it out, right?
━CROSS-POSTED ON QUOTEV AND AO3
━LEGO MONKIE KID S4 SPOILERS
━COVER ART: @daisukerichard [twitter]
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CHAPTER 06 — GOLDEN RINGS
❝I CAN'T BEAR TO LOSE THIS VIEW.❞
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"GEGE, GEGE!" RED Son called out to Nezha, racing over to his side.
"Now," Nezha sighed, taking a seat behind the calligraphy table, "There's no need to run like that, Red Son."
"Mhmmmgmdf, buuut—!" The child huffed, arms hidden behind his back. His hair was just long enough to be tied into a ponytail, though, it seemed to be done in a haste. He likely tied it himself, considering the clumsy nature of it.
"Red Son, I'm not going anywhere. See?" Nezha gestured to the paper on the table. "I haven't even set up all the calligraphy brushes yet."
Gently, he undid Red Son's ponytail, properly tying it for the child.
Nezha vaguely remembers when he was Red Son's age — albeit, his memories don't go as far back as he would like. He did remember he had Red Son's fiery temper, as embarrassing as it was. A natural inclination to learn more about the world and see what was out there.
Red Son was growing up, faster than Nezha could imagine. Perhaps it was due to his demon physiology, but Nezha couldn't help but think Red Son was growing up too fast.
He still remembers his manyue, as far ago as that may be. Since then, a lot of things have happened — Red Son's first steps, putting together words to form a sentence, learning social and emotional cues... And those are excluding the moments that he specifically shared with Red Son. Watching him draw, tying his hair, teaching him how to meditate — all the little things that Nezha thought back on when he went to the Celestial Realm once more.
The way Red Son scrunched up his nose when Nezha tried to teach him how to meditate. Or the way he would give Red Son kind encouragements after the kid got frustrated, something Nezha couldn't imagine doing with anyone else.
The way Red Son toyed with his armillary sash, getting entangled in the red ribbon at times.
The way Red Son handed him drawings, which were horribly made, but Nezha had to admit, there was a certain charm to them.
Maybe it was because he was the youngest of three sons, so he didn't have this experience of watching someone else grow up before his eyes. But there was just — something, he doesn't know what, something special about the time he spent with Red Son.
It was a nice break from his duties in the Celestial realm.
"Watch me do it first, Red Son," he gently said, picking up a calligraphy brush with his dominant hand. "We press down at the start of the stroke, and then lift the brush slightly as we follow through with it."
