MIX-UP (JossGawin)

Chapter 18

Joe stood at the stove, flipping pancakes while eggs sizzled in the pan, the rich aroma filling the kitchen. His stomach growled, but he held off, plating everything with precision. 

Just as he set the table, Tong shuffled in, hair messy, eyes half-lidded, clearly fresh from bed.

"Morning," Joe said, sliding a plate in front of him. "You look like you need this."

Tong grunted, already digging in. "Thanks. So... what's the plan with Mark?"

Joe leaned against the counter, cradling a steaming mug of coffee. "I was hoping *you'd* have the answer. How do you want to handle him?"

Tong stabbed a fork into his pancakes, chewing thoughtfully. "Hell if I know. He's been weird lately—hasn't fed off me in days, but he looks... better than ever."

Joe frowned, sipping his coffee. "That is weird. Think he found someone else to feed on?""Maybe," Tong muttered, though doubt clouded his face. "I'll ask him."

Glancing at the clock, Joe sighed. "I've gotta get to the hospital to submit my report. I'll head out early—you deal with Mark, okay?"

Tong waved him off, mouth full of pancake. "Yeah, yeah."

Tong hesitated outside his room. The door was ajar, and Mark lay sprawled on the bed, lounging like a cat basking in the sun. His skin glowed with an eerie vibrance, far too healthy for someone who hadn't fed in days.

"Hey," Tong said, leaning casually against the doorframe. "You hungry?"

Mark glanced up, amusement dancing in his eyes. "No, I'm quite satisfied. Thanks for asking."

Tong's brow furrowed. "You sure? You haven't fed in days."

Mark's smile deepened, enigmatic. "I'm sure. I've been managing."

Curiosity gnawed at Tong. "You look... fresher than ever. What's your secret?"

Mark's gaze held a teasing glint. "Let's just say I have my ways."

Tong wanted to press further but held back. "Fine. Just don't do anything weird while I'm gone."

Mark chuckled, the sound low and velvety. "I wouldn't dream of it."

During his lecture, Tong's mind refused to stay on topic. The professor's voice droned on, but all he could think about was Mark. He twirled his pen between his fingers, his thoughts racing.

If he's not feeding off me... then who?

The pen tapped rhythmically on the desk.

"You okay?" his friend whispered, eyeing him curiously.

Tong shook his head, muttering, "Just thinking out loud."

But the thought wouldn't let go. Who's his new source? The idea unsettled him, gnawing at the edges of his mind.

After class, Tong couldn't wait any longer. He rushed back to the apartment, anxiety twisting in his gut. The moment he burst through the door, he found Mark lounging on the couch, the picture of calm, one arm draped over the back, a faint smile on his lips.

Tong forced his voice to stay steady. "Mark, we need to talk. You haven't fed off me in days. What's going on?"

Mark's eyes sparkled with amusement as he looked up. "Didn't we already cover this? I've been managing just fine."

Tong's frustration boiled over. "How? Are you feeding off someone else?"

Mark's smile stretched wider, teasingly. "Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not. Why does it bother you?"

"Because," Tong snapped, stepping closer, "you can't just live here and keep secrets. I need to know what's happening."

Mark stood slowly, his movements graceful, predatory. "Relax, Tong. You'll know soon enough."

A chill slid down Tong's spine, the weight of Mark's words settling heavy in the room. "Just... don't do anything stupid," he said, his voice wavering.

Mark's chuckle was soft, almost tender. "I wouldn't dream of it."