Mr. Yung's Noodles

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POV: Bible

Bible was a pro at shrugging things off.He'd practically mastered the art of "I don't care" behavior—so deeply that even he believed it sometimes.So, whatever weird tension had been brewing with Jes, whatever strange heat lingered from earlier—that moment in the robe, that touching—yeah... he simply forgot about it.

By the time they got into bed that night—both silent, both pretending like the day hadn't been completely unhinged—Bible didn't hesitate.

He stretched out across the mattress like he owned it, limbs spread wide, one leg hanging off the side, the other knee bent, arms flung like a starfish in heat. No hesitation. No awareness. No shame.

Jes?

Jes rolled the opposite way.Back turned. Body stiff. One hand tucked under the pillow, the other gripping the edge of the mattress like it might somehow save him from the emotional hurricane on his left.

There were miles between them.Emotionally. Physically. Spiritually.Jes was basically one more breath away from sleeping on the floor.

But Bible didn't notice. Didn't question it.

He yawned once, loudly, dramatically, then adjusted his leg across Jes's side like it was just a second pillow.

Jes flinched. Silently. But Bible was already half-asleep.

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When Bible woke up the next morning, Jes was already gone. Of course.

Bible lay there for a minute, hair sticking in every direction, his cheek red from sleeping too hard on one side. He sat up with a groan, scratched the back of his head, and yawned so hard his jaw cracked.

Eventually, he shuffled toward the kitchen. His t-shirt hung off one shoulder, shorts barely clinging to his hips. No shame. Zero thoughts. Only fridge.

But when he turned the corner, there he was—Job. Already posted up at the counter like he lived there, legs crossed, phone in hand, one eyebrow raised like he'd been waiting for Bible to appear just to judge his whole existence.

Bible blinked. "Bro... do you sleep here now?"

Job didn't look up. "Good morning to you too, sunshine."

Bible grunted and headed for the fridge. He opened it, stared inside like it owed him something. Green things. Leftovers in containers he didn't recognize. A sad-looking apple. Zero snacks. He closed it. Waited. Then opened it again, like maybe this time there'd be a miracle.

Nope. Still adult food.

"You know," Job said casually, finally glancing up, "the fridge won't magically fill itself with beer and chicken wings just because you look at it like that."

Bible sighed. "I'm mourning the fantasy of real breakfast, give me a sec."

Job chuckled. "Jes told me to make sure you eat something decent."

Bible raised a brow. "He leave a checklist too?"

"Printed and laminated."

Bible groaned and leaned against the counter, running a hand through his messy hair. "This man's obsessed with rules."

"You did marry him," Job said, sipping from a mug that suspiciously matched the kitchen's entire color scheme.

"I can always divorce him, y'know," Bible said, grinning as he leaned on the marble counter, steam rising from his coffee. "Give you a second chance." He took a lazy bite of his apple.

Job laughed. "Tempting. But I like my peace, man. And I'm allergic to drama—and leather."

Bible snorted. "Then why are you here? Thought Jes was the control freak, not his bestie."

"Babysitting duty," Job said, shrugging.

Bible blinked, apple halfway to his mouth. "Wow. Personal guard now?"

"Honestly? I told Jes maybe he should hang out with his hot new husband more. But nah, apparently he's got 'things' to do."

Bible narrowed his eyes. "Things? What things?"

Job raised his hand. "Don't. I already regret saying that—"

"Too late. I'm over it," Bible said with a lazy wave. He leaned back slightly. "Anyway, just so you're caught up—Jes finally gave in. I'm free to roam the earth again. No more house arrest. The man actually let me out."

"I know," Job replied coolly, arms folded across his chest like a bodyguard who's been through worse. "And I'll be right behind you. Everywhere."

Bible raised an eyebrow, amused but slightly suspicious. "You sure you're ready for that kind of commitment? I mean, wherever I go? Even if it's somewhere stupid? Even if it's illegal?"

"I'd follow you to the end of the world, babyboy," Job said without skipping a beat, the corner of his mouth twitching upward like he already regretted everything but was too prideful to say it.

Bible exhaled through a grin, shaking his head. "Alright then, stalker. Hope your cardio's up to date."

"As long as I don't have to carry you home or—worse—call your husband, I'll survive," Job replied dryly.

Bible rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the grin tugging at his lips. "Well, lucky for you, I already have plans. JJay and Mio are dragging me out later. We'll probably start with food, and then..." He glanced at Job with a spark in his eyes. "We're checking out a street race."

Job straightened up like someone just handed him a backstage pass. "A race? I've never been to one. Let's go."

Bible blinked. "Whoa, whoa, slow down, Speed Racer. First of all—look at yourself." He pointed dramatically at Job's outfit: a crisp button-down, dress pants, and shoes too clean for any street worth racing on. "You look like you're here to buy the race, not watch it. You got anything more... breathable?"

Job ran a hand through his hair, already turning toward the hallway. "Yeah, yeah. I'll change. Give me five."

Bible watched him go, still sipping from his mug, one brow raised. Something about Job's energy was just a little too eager.

He tilted his head, thinking. Why's he acting like he's losing his virginity today?

But then he shrugged, muttering, "Eh, maybe he just wants to see me in my element." A wicked grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. Poor guy's not ready.

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"Why is this guy here?" JJay asked, wrinkling his nose like Job was a bad smell lingering too long. Mio crossed his arms, frowning in solidarity. "Yeah, Bible, what's his deal? I thought this was just us."

Bible sipped his iced tea with zero urgency. "He's watching the race today."

"I'm watching Bible," Job corrected, stepping up like he was on official duty.

They were standing in front of their usual meet-up spot—a small, beat-up restaurant tucked in the corner of a narrow alley. It had flickering neon signs, questionable chairs, and a faded menu board that had clearly survived at least one world war.

Job looked around like he'd just stepped into an apocalypse. "This the place? Really?" he said, eyeing a stray cat licking itself under a tilted motorbike. "You guys sure this isn't a front for illegal kidney sales?"

"Yo, don't you dare talk trash about Mr. Yung's Noodles," Mio barked, instantly offended. "He's a local legend. Man's been boiling broth since before you were born."

"Yeah," JJay chimed in. "Best noodles in town. Also, his wife threatened to curse me once. So, respect."

Job raised a brow, unimpressed but mildly concerned. "I'm starting to think this hangout's less about food and more about emotional trauma."

Bible grinned, dragging Job inside. "Shut up and eat, corporate boy. This is street culture."

"Who dressed you by the way?" JJay asked, giving Job a slow once-over.

"I did," Bible cut in proudly, slinging an arm around JJay's shoulder. "Come on, it's fire, right? Look at him—man's practically smoldering."

Job, despite trying to keep his usual stone-cold composure, shifted uncomfortably. His ears turned pink from all the attention. "It's just a hoodie and jeans," he muttered.

"Yeah, exactly. For you? That's a revolution," JJay snorted.

"You guys always talk this much about people standing literally right next to you?" Job asked, clearly regretting his life choices already.

"Oh right, my bad!" JJay said, then immediately grinned. "But hey—take it as a compliment. Looking like that, you might actually pull tonight."

He clapped Job hard on the back like a proud older cousin hyping his awkward little brother before a school dance. Job just stood there, blinking, while Bible cackled like it was the best thing he'd heard all week.

"Let's sit down, guys. I'm starving," Bible said. As always, they ordered their usual—Mr. Yung's signature noodles, extra spicy—and Job, clearly wanting to blend in, pointed at the same item with a quiet, "I'll have that too."

While they waited, the silence didn't last long.

"Soooo..." JJay leaned forward, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Job. Tell us more about Mr. Robotface."

Mio perked up like a puppy hearing the word "walk," nodding eagerly. "Yes! What's it like living with Jespipat 3000?"

Bible, who had been mid-straw-sip from his iced tea, paused with a blank look—mildly annoyed, slightly frozen. Right. He had a husband. Ugh.

Job raised an eyebrow. "Robotface, huh?"

"Come on, he walks around like he's calculating stock drops 24/7," JJay said.

"And blinks like once an hour," Mio added.

Job chuckled, surprising all three of them. "He's not that bad."

"You're saying that because he pays you," Bible muttered, chin resting on his palm.

"I'm saying that because I don't want to die," Job said, deadpan.

JJay howled. "Fair."

Bible sighed dramatically, tapping his chopsticks against the table. "And I married him. What're the chances I make it out of this alive?" he muttered, eyes drifting to the faded photo of Mr. Yung posing proudly with a bowl of noodles from like, 1982.

Job leaned forward slightly, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Maybe you don't want to get out after the year is over."

Bible blinked. The moment lagged—just long enough to glitch his brain—then he snapped out of it like someone just slapped him with a wet dishrag.

"Who would want to stay with him?! Jes would need to do a full 360 makeover: his personality sucks, he's got too many muscles, and—ugh—a third leg," he rattled off, waving his chopsticks like a conductor of complaints.

"Third leg?!" Mio practically choked on his soda, slapping the table.

"Wait, wait, wait—" JJay leaned in like a detective mid-interrogation. "Are you saying you saw his d—?"

The entire table turned to stare at Bible. Including Job.

The silence was deafening. Bible froze, realizing the trap he'd built himself. "...Oops," he said quietly, biting his bottom lip and looking anywhere but Job's very alert face.

"Yah, of course I've seen it," Bible said, trying to sound casual as he flicked a piece of lint off his sleeve. "I mean, we share a bedroom. And a bathroom. That kind of thing just... happens. It's normal. Between men."

"Shhh!" Bible hissed, immediately ducking behind his hands like he was hiding from paparazzi. "God, why do you yell like I just admitted to murder?!"

"He has no guest bedroom," Bible muttered dryly, poking his empty iced tea with the straw like he wished it would refill itself.

"YOU SHARE A BEDROOM WITH MR. JES-FREAKIN'-PIPAT?!" Mio nearly shouted across the entire restaurant, loud enough that three other tables turned to stare at them in horror.

"WHAT ABOUT THE COUCH?" JJay added, same volume, same dramatic panic.

Job chuckled into his drink, totally unbothered. "You guys are acting like he moved in with a demon. That's what normal couples do. They share a bed. It's not that deep."

"But this isn't normal," Mio argued, eyebrows nearly flying off his forehead. "It's a fake marriage. And it's Bible. Our Bible. Married. To a stranger. A man. A man who probably sleeps shirtless. Naked."

Bible groaned, leaning back in his chair like he was physically trying to leave his own body. "He said it's for appearances. You know, in case anyone from his company checks. Some people want his CEO spot, so if it looks fake, he's screwed."

"That sounds suspiciously like an excuse," JJay said, narrowing his eyes. "A very convenient excuse."

"It's not!" Bible snapped. "And relax. Jes wouldn't touch me. I know guys like him. He's counting the days just like I am."

"I can confirm," Job said, cool and confident. "Jes is allergic to anything messy. He wants the year over and done with."

At the word touch, Bible very slowly reached for his iced tea and slurped from it—even though it was completely empty. The loud straw-hitting-the-bottom sound said everything.

The table froze.

JJay leaned forward, voice suddenly serious. "Or... did he touch you?"

"Nooo. No. Don't be weird. I've got everything under control," Bible said, hands in the air like he was fending off an arrest. "I sleep fine, the bed's huge, nobody's touching anybody, we're both straight, everything is normal, I'm thriving, I'm—"

"Panicking," Mio muttered.

"Delusional," JJay added.

"Okay, can we not make me sound like I'm in a hostage situation?" Bible snapped. "Let's just enjoy the night. The race is about to start."

Luckily, the conversation finally shifted, and they got up from the table and headed out. The location? An underground garage. Seven floors below ground level, hidden in the city's underbelly. One of those places where GPS stops working and common sense doesn't exist.

Exactly Bible's scene.

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"My phone doesn't work down here," Job said, frowning at the screen as he sat beside one of the cars parked along the garage wall. The air buzzed with the low growl of engines and the occasional shout, but down here—seven stories underground—it felt like another world entirely.

Bible took a slow drag from a cigarette, legs casually crossed, a beer already in hand. "Why do you even need your phone? Just enjoy the moment. Watch the best thing in the world." His eyes flicked toward the motorcycles revving at the far end of the lot. "And try not to be such a narc."

Job chuckled awkwardly, clearly trying to play it off. "Yeah, yeah. Jes doesn't need to know. I'll tell him later." He rubbed the back of his neck and took a sip from his drink.

Bible raised an eyebrow. "Oh, come on. The old man'll survive if he doesn't get an hourly update from his bestie."

"It's not about that," Job said, still staring at his useless phone. "I'm supposed to check in every hour. It's protocol. But don't mind me—I'll just head back up after a bit to report in."

"Yeah... about that," Bible said, turning to gesture toward the track. "Once the race starts, no one's going anywhere."

Job followed his gaze. Several bikes were lining up at the marked-off start line, riders adjusting helmets, engines snarling louder now. Metal barriers were slowly being rolled into place, sealing off the route like a cage.

Bible gave Job a light clap on the back. "You're stuck with us now. Welcome to the jungle."

Before Job could respond, a voice rang out above the crowd.

"Bible!"

JJay was weaving his way through the mass of bodies, waving wildly. Behind him, someone followed—tall, familiar.

Bible's cigarette slipped slightly from his lips.

His heart—tight from the week's drama—gave the smallest, stupidest flutter of relief.

"Bas," he breathed.

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POV: Author

Helloooo, I'm back! Did you miss me? No? Rude. Anyway—Big bro Bas has entered the chat, and things are about to shift from mildly unhinged to full-speed emotional rollercoaster with no seatbelt.