MIX-UP (JossGawin)

Chapter 23

The days without Ming and Mark stretched out in agonizing silence, like a void that neither Joe nor Tong could escape. 

Joe, ever the professional, tried to convince himself that he wasn't missing Ming. But his actions betrayed him. At the hospital, he found himself wandering the halls more often than necessary, lingering near the nurse's station, hoping to catch sight of the head nurse—who had always seemed to have something for him from Ming. 

Tong was no better. Every night, he'd find himself on the porch, staring out into the street, his thoughts swirling. 

He worried about Mark, about his vampire needs that weren't being met. Mark, without his usual feedings, might be out there causing trouble, feeding on whoever crossed his path. 

Tong couldn't shake the thought of Mark feeding on someone innocent—someone who didn't deserve it. It made him feel restless and agitated. 

He'd sit by the window, watching the night pass in an endless spiral of waiting, as if the street would suddenly reveal Mark's shadowed form.

One evening, frustration took hold of him, and he decided to act. Tong had never been one to sit idly by, and tonight, he felt a desperate need to do something—anything—to break the silence.

 His gaze landed on Mark's coffin, still resting in the corner of his room, an ever-present reminder of the vampire who hadn't returned. He approached it cautiously, the dread in his stomach twisting as he slid the lid open. 

The sight of the empty space inside sent a chill through him.

He climbed in hesitantly, pulling the lid down over him. The confined space pressed in on him, amplifying the isolation he felt. His heartbeat quickened as the claustrophobia set in. 

This is ridiculous, he thought to himself. But even so, he didn't immediately move. He tried to ignore the shivers crawling up his spine, the oppressive darkness of the coffin closing in on him. But a few minutes in, his patience wore thin.

"This is fucking stupid," Tong muttered under his breath, his body stiffening in the unnatural stillness. He shoved the lid open with a grunt, scrambling out, his breath coming out in short, frustrated bursts.

"Goddamn it, Mark," he grumbled as he stood up, glaring at the empty coffin. The room felt emptier than ever, the absence of the vampire pressing down on him.

Joe, who had been silently observing from the doorway, "Lying in his coffin isn't going to summon him, you know." His voice was gentle but laced with the same worry that had been weighing on both of them.

Tong shot him a glare, his frustration bubbling over. "I'm running out of ideas here, Joe," he snapped, the rawness of his emotions escaping in his words. He felt like he was grasping at straws, trying to control something that he couldn't understand.

Joe sighed, running a hand through his hair.  

The days continued to drag on. Joe tried to lose himself in his studies, in the steady rhythm of work at the hospital, but the absence of Ming hung over him like a cloud. The small comforts Ming had brought into his life were gone, and without them, everything seemed a little emptier. 

Even the simple things—the cups of coffee, the soft words exchanged in passing—left a void.

Tong, meanwhile, threw himself into his work with Yok and Nut, trying to focus on anything that would distract him from the unrelenting worry gnawing at him. But every time he returned to his room, the sight of the open coffin left him feeling hollow. 

The vampire had been such a constant presence in his life—annoying, frustrating, and often infuriating—but now? Now there was nothing. 

The quiet made it impossible to escape his thoughts. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. The unease burrowed deep, leaving him restless.

One night, after another long day of silence, Tong found himself sitting on the couch next to Joe, both of them lost in their own thoughts. The weight of their shared concern hung in the air like a thick fog. 

Finally, Joe spoke, his voice quiet, the question they had both been avoiding hanging between them.

"Do you think they're okay?" His words felt like an admission, as though saying them out loud would somehow make it more real.

Tong shrugged, though his eyes betrayed his unease. "I hope so. Mark's a tough bastard, and Ming... well, he's got that mysterious hitman vibe going. They'll be fine." He tried to reassure Joe, but even his voice cracked with uncertainty.

Joe managed a small, weak smile, trying to believe the words. "Yeah, maybe you're right." But there was no conviction in his tone.

They both fell silent, the quiet of the room pressing in on them. The only sound was the soft hum of the refrigerator, and even that seemed too loud. Neither of them knew how much longer they could wait.

All they could do now was wait and hope that Ming and Mark would return, bringing with them the chaos that would somehow make the world feel a little more normal again.