Don't- ngh... hah-

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POV: Bible

"Brother," Bible said, his voice shaking slightly as he pulled Bas into a hug, burying his face into the crook of his neck.

"My little brother... what did they do to you?" Bas murmured, gently patting the back of his head, fingers sliding through Bible's hair in a calming rhythm.

They'd always been close—inseparable, really. Grew up side by side, hearts beating in sync whenever engines roared and tires burned. But things changed. Bas moved to Japan, found himself a girl, and the visits became rare, then nonexistent. Bible had never even met her. Not even a picture.

As the race began and engines echoed through the underground garage, the two of them sat down on fold-up chairs by the sidelines.

"Did you bring your girlfriend?" Bible asked, casual but a little pouty.

Bas sighed. "No... actually, we broke up."

"You never even showed me her face," Bible muttered, crossing his arms like a sulky kid. Bas gave him a long look. Something unreadable passed in his eyes.

"Bible... actually, I—" They were interrupted.

"So that's the legendary older brother," Job said, suddenly appearing with a beer in hand and far too much confidence for someone three drinks in.

Bible rolled his eyes. "Ignore him."

Bas raised an eyebrow. "And you are?"

"Name's Job. Babysitter to your chaotic sibling," he grinned, sticking out a hand like he was sealing a business deal.

Bas shook it, amused. "Brave man."

"Don't get too comfortable with him," Bible muttered, eyes narrowed at Job. "He's besties with our enemy."

"Damn right," Job said with a smug grin. "Jes's manager. Also your personal babysitter today. You're welcome."

Bas's brow twitched. "So it's true? You actually got married? Like—legally?"

Bible's bottom lip quivered as Bas took both of his hands in his. "You abandoned me, Bas," he said, voice cracking.

"I know, little brother. I know," Bas said softly, gripping his hands tighter. "But I'm here now. And I swear—I'll get you out of this."

Bible just sniffled louder.

"What the hell was Dad thinking? Signing you off to some rich, stone-faced CEO? Didn't even tell me. Didn't invite me. Just—married you off like cattle," Bas growled, voice rising. "And that guy—Jes. He doesn't... he hasn't done anything to you, has he?"

"No..." Bible said dryly, though his mind betrayed him—flashing straight back to the moment Mr. Jespipat's hand smacked his round apple ass. It still stung, just thinking about it.

"You sure?" Bas narrowed his eyes, already suspicious. He could read Bible like a damn weather app.

"Bible is fine," Job said casually. "And Jes isn't even that bad. You'll probably like him. Brother-in-law." He smirked as he dropped the title like it was an insult.

Bas turned slowly, expression blank. "You sound like a mosquito."

"Huh?"

"That buzzing. Right in my ear. Annoying as hell." He flicked the air like he was swatting Job away.

Bible snorted, half-hiding behind his hand. "Stop it, Bas."

"I'm serious." Bas cracked his knuckles without breaking eye contact. "If I find out this Jes guy's got my brother walking funny, I'll personally bury him six floors under this garage."

Job raised his beer. "That's oddly specific. And... kinda hot?"

"Well, thanks for the compliment," Bas said with a smirk, clinking his beer against Job's like they were old friends already. Bible, still sitting between them, suddenly felt like air—completely invisible.

"So, how old are you?" Bas asked Job, casually leaning back in his chair.

"Twenty-nine. You?"

"Twenty-eight."

The conversation rolled on easily from there—Japanese food, underground races, engine mods—but Bible wasn't really listening anymore. The noise blurred around him, their laughter sounding like it was happening underwater.

Without a word, he got up, brushing his hands on his jeans, and slipped into the crowd near the race. Cheers roared around him, the sharp scent of gasoline and rubber hitting his nose.

At least the racers didn't ask for his age.

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At some point, Bible's mind began to blur.

The alcohol had fully settled in—smoothing out his earlier mood swings. The crowd buzzed around him, a wash of voices and music he couldn't quite separate anymore. He wasn't even sure where the others were.

A girl in tight leather pants, hips swinging, appeared out of the crowd and latched onto him. Her perfume wrapped around him like fog, clinging sweet and heavy. She leaned in close, lips brushing his ear.

"You're my racer legend, Bible," she purred. Her voice was soft. Her hand slid along his chest. Her lips got dangerously close. And for one brief second, maybe he would've let her.

But then he remembered.The ring.The vow he gave that unwanted husband of his.

Well—fake or not, he wasn't a cheater.

"I'm sorry," Bible said, voice soft as he gently pulled himself out of her hug. "I'm... married."

He actually raised his hand and showed her the ring. He was drunk enough to do that. Sober-Bible would've swallowed his own tongue first. The girl huffed like she'd been robbed, rolled her eyes, and vanished back into the crowd.

He didn't know what time it was anymore.

The race had turned into a full-blown party. Bodies everywhere, music pounding, heat and sweat and smoke mixing into thick air that stuck to his skin. The bass thumped through his skull, his ears cottony and dull.

The others were nowhere to be found. Everything was too much. So he slipped away—stumbling toward the exit ramp to get some fresh air.

Each step up was a mission. Somewhere along the way he passed two people making out against a wall, someone lighting a cigarette with the end of another, and a guy DJing from the back of a pickup truck. The music faded as he rose. So did the lights, the crowd, the noise.

Finally, the garage door. Cool night air hit his face. He exhaled. Pulled a cigarette from his jacket. Lit it with shaking fingers. Inhaled deeply.

Much better.

That's when he felt something brush his leg. He looked down.

A tiny kitten sat by his boot, staring up with wide, blinking eyes, then rubbed against his shin, purring loudly.

"Aww, sweetheart," Bible said, crouching down and petting the soft fur. "Where's your mommy, huh?"

The kitten meowed at him—tiny, innocent, adorable.

"You're so cute," Bible chuckled.

He'd always loved animals. Honestly, if he lived alone, he'd adopt a whole pack of cats and dogs. Maybe even a lizard. Jes would probably lose his mind.

But for now, he sat on the curb, drunk, alone, high on secondhand neon and cat affection.

At some point, the tiny kitten darted off, and Bible—still half-drunk—stumbled after it.

"Wait! Kitty!" he called out, chasing the little fluffball as it disappeared through a half-open metal door. The building it led into looked like it had been abandoned since the 90s—peeling walls, dust thick in the air, the kind of place horror movies start and never end well.

He turned on his phone flashlight and stepped inside. "Kitty?" he whispered, wincing at the creak under his foot.

The place was empty, dirty, and vaguely haunted. But he kept looking. Then—finally—he spotted it. The kitten was curled up and shaking in the corner of what looked like an old toilet room.

"Oh, sweetie," he murmured, crouching down and gently scooping it into his arms. As he turned to leave, ready to rescue them both from tetanus and ghosts, he heard voices.

Not just any voices. Familiar ones.

He froze.

Bas.

And... wait—was that Job?!

"You're so hot," a low voice purred.

Bible's stomach dropped.

Then:"Don't— ngh... hah—" Bas's voice, unmistakably breathless.

Bible shut off his flashlight in pure survival instinct.

No.

No, no, no.

He pressed himself into the doorway like some kind of terrified raccoon, kitten squirming silently in his hands. He peeked—slowly, very slowly—around the corner, eyes adjusting to the dim glow of a phone placed on the ground.

And what he saw nearly made him drop dead.

His brother.

Making out.

With freaking JOB.

Bible slapped a hand over his own mouth before a scream could escape.

No no no NO.This is a dream. A nightmare. A fever vision from too many beers. His mind short-circuited.

His brother. The straight one. The one who used to chase girls on motorbikes. Was now pressed up against Job—enemy of the state, manager of Jes, smirker-in-chief.

"Do you have condoms?" Bas asked, voice all low and dangerous like this was a scene in a movie.

Bible almost passed out. The kitten meowed softly. His heart was pounding so hard it echoed in his ears.

What do I do?

If he jumped out now, they'd see him. His brother would be mortified. And he—he would need a full system reboot.

He swallowed. This was his personal hell. And all because of a damn kitten.

"So you're one of those," Job said, his voice still low, teasing.

Bible clamped his hands over the kitten's ears. No baby, you don't deserve this. You're too young.

Why am I the one covering your ears?! WHO WILL COVER MINE?!His mind was spiraling.

This had to be a prank. A twisted dream. Maybe he passed out from heatstroke. Maybe the beer was laced.

But then—he heard it.

Clothes. Hitting the floor.

Bible nearly puked.

And then—like the final nail in his emotional coffin:

"Just shut up and fuck me already."

Bible's soul left his body.

No. Nope. Nuh-uh. That voice? That tone?! Nooo that was Bas! MY brother! That's supposed to be the top! Not—NOT LIKE THIS!

He silently screamed into the void, cradling the kitten like it was the only innocent left in this godless room.

Please fuck HIM, not the other way around!!! he mentally yelled, now not only horrified, but furiously insulted on behalf of his family name.

Then Job's voice came again, slightly more cautious:„But what if someone sees us?"

Bible's heart leapt. YES! YES JOB! LISTEN TO YOUR TINY CONSCIENCE! I'M RIGHT HERE! RIGHT HERE!!

But then—„No one comes in here. You worried? I thought you were more of a daredevil."

Bas sounded like he was pouting.

Bible's jaw dropped open.

What a hoe. What an absolute garage-humping, man-stealing, traitor of a brother I have. This is it.

He looked down at the kitten, whose eyes were wide in disbelief. Bible nodded grimly.

"Yeah, same," he whispered. "Same."

And then—the final blow.

The rustling of a condom wrapper. It echoed louder than a bomb going off in his soul. Bible dropped to his knees. Kitten still in hand. Hoodie up. Emotionally deceased.

Like a dying snail, he curled in on himself. Hands over ears. Eyes squeezed shut. Praying for death or amnesia—whichever came first.

Time lost all meaning.

He didn't know how long he was down there. Minutes? Hours? The only thing grounding him was the soft, shaking fluff of the kitten pressed to his chest.

Eventually, he peeked open one ear.

Slap. Slap. Slap.

He recoiled so hard he nearly swallowed his own tongue.

Heavy breathing. Groaning. His brother's voice. Job's voice.

He slammed his hands over his ears, tighter this time. His brain was doing Olympic-level gymnastics just to keep from melting.

He peeked again. A mistake.Moans. Flesh. More moans.

By the third time he cracked an ear open—silence.

Gone. Both of them. Bible lay there, sprawled on the dirty floor like a forgotten corpse, eyes wide, kitten licking his chin like a comfort animal trained by Satan himself.

Eventually, he stood. Dust. Shame. Existential trauma. It clung to him like a second hoodie.

He staggered out of that cursed building, kitten in arm, the hollow shell of a boy who once believed in boundaries.

Behind him: trauma.Ahead of him: therapy.Inside him: absolutely nothing.

And as if fate hadn't already sucker-punched him enough for one day, there it was.A sleek black Mercedes. Parked like judgment itself.

Leaning against it: Jes. Arms crossed. Jaw clenched. Looking like wrath in designer sunglasses.

"Bible." His voice was low. Tight. Murderous.

Bible froze mid-step, hoodie still up, dust clinging to him, kitten in one hand like a furry alibi."Uh. Jes," he croaked.

Jes didn't move. "Where. The hell. Were you?"

Bible couldn't move either. His feet had become decorative."I—"

Jes raised a finger and curled it once. "Come. Here."It wasn't a suggestion. It was a threat in verbal form.

Bible hesitated like a man approaching a guillotine. But eventually... he walked.

Jes didn't blink. "I searched the entire garage," he growled.

Bible shrunk an inch.

"I waited an hour." Two inches gone.

"I called you nonstop."

"W-Well..." Bible stammered, looking anywhere but at him, "I was... um..."

Yeah. He couldn't say it. Hi, I got emotionally destroyed in a broom closet after witnessing my brother get railed by your manager.That didn't exactly scream I'm your loving fake husband, please cuddle me now.

So he just stood there. Hoodie up. Eyes wide. Kitten meowing.

Jes blinked slowly. "Bible. What the fuck is on your hoodie?"

"...trauma."

Jes huffed, fists clenched. "You still have the nerve to—"

But he didn't get to finish. Bible stepped forward like a sleep-deprived goblin emerging from war, and did the unthinkable.

He hugged Jes. Tightly.

Face buried in Jes's freshly ironed, citrus-scented designer dress shirt.

Then came the sound. The sniffle. The snuddering. The pathetic, soul-wrecked whimper of a man who had seen things.

"Uaaaahhh I'm sorry! I'll never leave the house again! Huhuuuuuuuuu!!!"

Jes froze. Just... froze.

His arms remained at his sides like they didn't come with a manual for this situation. He stared straight ahead. Past the kitten. Past the dirt on Bible's hoodie. Past the visible shaking.

His brain had crashed like bad internet.

Bible was sobbing into his shirt like a man confessing murder. Jes slowly looked down, lips parted. His shirt was getting soggy.

"...What the fuck happened to you?" Jes finally whispered, arms very slowly rising to pat Bible on the back with the stiffness of a man comforting a wet Ikea towel.

Bible only sniffled harder.

Then mumbled, voice barely audible:

"Can we not talk about it and go home?"

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POV: Author

OMGGGG Bible is shocked to the cure. Like—he needs holy water and three years of silence. My poor baby witnessed the unseeable and now he's just a trembling hoodie gremlin clinging to Jes like a soggy tissue 😭Jes has no choice now. Bible's going full damsel mode and he will get pampered, kissed on the forehead, and tucked into bed with hot soup and zero questions.