Work Text:
The world has gone to shit.
He was driving at full speed and fucked up.
He smashed his face into the road and massacred his beautiful face.
The world simply went to hell and there was nothing left to save.
There was nothing that could be saved.
It had been like this for two years. Two years ago, the world went to shit.
How strange it must have been to go to sleep in a normal world, with people calmly wandering the dark streets, and then wake up the next day to see the streets covered in blood and walking corpses prowling around, looking for their next victim - their next meal.
Well. Don't ask Ming. He didn't care what happened to the world. For him, the whole world could go to hell. Destroy, burn, flood, collapse. It didn't matter to him.
Because the only thing that mattered to Ming was his beloved P'Joe. Which disappeared.
The night it all started, P'Joy didn't come back that night. He was supposed to be with friends from work. They were going to drink and celebrate the completion of another big project. He didn't come back that night, so Ming couldn't really sleep. He couldn't do it on his own anymore. He missed having a warm body next to him on the bed to truly rest. He needed his P'Joe.
In the morning the end of the world began.
Since then, since this morning, since the end of the world. Ming was constantly looking for his beloved P'Joe.
Dying people? The collapse of society? Food shortages? Trying to find a cure?
Nothing mattered to him.
Ming, that morning, like every other morning for 756 days, put on a dark jacket, wrapped the protectors on his forearms, turned off the light in P'Joe's apartment, washed the dishes and put them on the drying rack, closed the door and, with his backpack on his back and the gun in his hands, left for your daily search.
Some people may have thought that the zombie apocalypse was the worst that could happen to humanity. There was no. The worst thing that happened to people in this post-apocalyptic world was other people. It might have been the end of the world, but Ming was still Ming. The rich stayed rich. The poor continued to die senselessly in the streets. The wealthy still lived in their grand villas, they just spent more money on the people who protected them and those who worked for them than on trips and expensive yachts.
For some time, after the outbreak of the pandemic, Ming thought for a moment that maybe something would change, that maybe people would see things and overthrow the power that the rich had in the world. However, this did not happen. Power was still in the hands of the same people. The pandemic continued to only impact those who could not afford protection. What did this mean for the Ming? Except he could still do whatever he wanted, only now instead of his assistant Jim, who made sure he didn't do anything too derogatory to his status, he was followed by several muscle men with guns on their backs, making sure no zombies bit him or any the marauder didn't rob him.
Well, Ming wasn't going to complain.
This allowed him to continue looking for his P'Joe. He hoped, he still hoped, that he would find him.
This time he went outside the city and wanted to check out a hypermarket outside Bangkok. He had heard from a few stragglers that the poor survivors of the second wave of the transformed had hid there for a while, using old supplies stored there.
The chances were slim. More than two years had passed, but Ming refused to give up. He was ready to do anything to find his beloved.
He ordered his men to stay where they were.
He alone entered the store.
It was not secured in any way. If there were people there, they were either dead or stupid. It didn't matter at all.
Something was calling to him in this place. He didn't want to believe the Master's stupid theories that soulmates would be able to sense each other, but now, for the first time in a long time, he truly felt like something was calling to him.
And he was there.
Joe.
His Joe.
His beloved Joe.
P'Joe.
Zombie P'Joe.
P'Joe turned into a zombie.
Not dead or alive P'Joe.
Ming didn't cry. Anyone who claimed otherwise would have died a very painful death that would definitely not be shown on any television unless it was rated PG 18.
Ming was just happy.
Finally, after such a long search, he managed to find his beloved P'Joe.
He paid no attention to anything or anyone. He ran towards it. He opened his arms, hugging the man. Joe also opened his arms. Ming snuggled into his neck, hugging him as tight as he could. Joe also put his face close to Ming's neck.
The next thing Ming felt was the piercing pain of teeth digging into his neck. A jerk that tore off half the skin and part of the muscle that connected his neck to his shoulder. A scream escaped his lips without him wanting to. But he held Joe's head against his neck.
-It's okay, P'Joe. Do not worry. Do not stop.
He said. Tears were streaming down his face. They mixed with the blood.
The zombie stopped. He didn't move in Ming's arms. He didn't breathe, the dead didn't have to breathe. His eyes didn't blink, but they moved. He moved away from Ming a little. His eyes were moving. Ming felt like he was being stared at. He's watching him. He hoped he recognized him. Ming hoped that the love they shared was able to blur the line between life and death. He hoped that now, they would finally be together forever.
He held Joe's hand as they left the store.
Calmly, step by step, they returned home.
In the back of his mind he still remembered that there should have been his people outside the store, that there should have been cars there that could get them there faster, but it didn't matter. The walk with P'Joe was also very pleasant. He liked how empty the streets were. He liked the way the wind blew gently and how everything smelled delicious.
He didn't want to eat anything, as long as P'Joe was with him he might never eat anything again in his life. He didn't care.
They returned to their home.
They were finally home.
P'Joe finally came back to him.
What did life matter if you could choose love?
Ming will always choose love.
He will always choose P'Joe.