Two Buttons

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POV: Bible

Okay. Bible was touched by Jes's words.

But come on, men like Jes knew exactly how to wrap someone around their finger fast. It was dangerous. And Bible wasn't ready to throw himself headfirst into that trap. Not yet.

So yeah... he decided to keep pretending just a bit longer. Since... well... he had to admit it, he really enjoyed Jes's care.

Jes was doing everything.

Even though the hospital had sent a caretaker to help out now and then, Jes was always faster, always more stubborn.

"No, I'll do that." "Step aside, I can handle it."

And so, Bible was now under strict 24/7 Jes-watch. Even when he needed to go to the bathroom, Jes would hover suspiciously.

"I need some privacy, Jes." Bible said, giving him a deadpan look.

Jes would pout, full on puppy eyes and all. "I've already seen you in every possible situation."

Tsss. This man. And don't get started on showering.

It was a whole production with the leg bandaged up and unable to get wet. Jes would prepare a wet cloth and carefully wash him down, patient, gentle, very move like he was handling something precious.

And every single morning without fail: "Good morning, Bible. How did you sleep? Do you remember us now?"

God. It was getting harder and harder to keep up the act. Especially because Jes wasn't shy about being close, his lingering touches, his warmth, the way he looked at him like Bible was his whole damn world.

But the man never crossed the line. He never kissed him.

WHY ISN'T HE KISSING ME?!

Bible was screaming inside. Not gonna lie, he was craving it now. He missed the full-on touches, the kisses, the rough passion. This was turning into a slow burn romance, and he was going mad with want.

Even when Jes would lock eyes with Bible, that deep, soul-burning stare, Bible thought: Now. This is it. Finally. We're gonna connect again. He's gonna take what he wants. He's gonna... kiss me.

But no. Damn man. Jes always backed off, playing the gentleman card like a pro.

Maybe I have to do something to make him do it, Bible thought, frustrated.

But let's be honest, who would kiss someone who kept saying:

"You're not my husband." "I don't remember doing this or that." "Who are you again?"

Exactly. Not the sexiest setup for a romantic reunion. But still... come on, Jes, man up a little!

Then came the big day. Finally, the giant bandage was coming off. They replaced it with a smaller, more comfortable one. He also got crutches. Freedom was near. Bible was smiling like he'd won the lottery. Jes? Jes was pouting like someone just stole his favorite toy.

"Eh, why do you look so unhappy?" Bible asked, puzzled.

"Well... I liked taking care of you," Jes huffed, crossing his arms. "Now you won't need me anymore."

God, this man, Bible thought, smirking.

"But I'm happy you're getting better," Jes added, sighing dramatically.

Bible gave him a look. "Now you can go back to work. Work misses you," Bible chuckled.

Jes groaned. "I don't wanna work. I wanna stay here with you all day." Okay, after spending 24/7 under one roof with someone, you'd think it would start getting heavy for Bible.

Surprisingly, they actually managed the time together pretty well. Jes had turned into his own personal house-husband, bringing him tea, feeding him, hovering like a lovesick golden retriever.

But still. A bit of distance? Wouldn't hurt.

Also, whenever his friends came over, Jes would cling to Bible's side like a koala. It wasn't the same vibe. Bible kinda missed the good old times.

Then one morning Jes stood there, clearly sulking. "I'll be at work today. It's getting late, and I thought about staying at a motel nearby the meeting I have later tonight," Jes grumbled.

"A meeting this late?" Bible asked, raising a brow. Oh? Now we're talking. A small smile crept up his face.

"That means... I have the whole place to myself?"

Jes narrowed his eyes, knowing that sparkle in Bible's grin all too well.

"Don't burn the house down."

"No promises."

"Bible, I really want you to remember... you're still not fully healed. I don't want to visit you in the hospital again," Jes said before heading out.

He looked damn good.

White dress shirt, slightly unbuttoned. Hair perfectly styled. The scent of his best cologne hit Bible like a punch to the gut. God, that smell, citrus, spice, warm skin. It made Bible want to pull him in, maybe steal a quick kiss. Maybe more.

"I remember. I won't do anything stupid," Bible said, trying to calm himself down.

Jes tilted his head. "Why are your ears red?"

Shit. Of course this man noticed everything. Jes walked back over, and Bible, leaning against the marble kitchen counter with his crutches, cursed silently. Jes was now in front of him, close enough to feel the heat from his body.

"Do you feel unwell?" Jes asked, brows furrowed, his hand lifting to touch Bible's forehead. "Do you have a fever?"

Bible's breath quickened. Jes standing there, looking like sin in a dress shirt, was not helping.

"Um... no. It's just... hot today," Bible mumbled, lifting his shirt a little to get some air. Jes tucked a stray strand of hair behind Bible's ear, his fingers grazing softly, making Bible shiver.

Bible locked eyes with him. Okay. Now. Maybe he'll kiss me if I hold this stare long enough.

Jes tilted his head. "What?"

Bible swallowed. "Well... nothing. I was just wondering why your scent feels so familiar."

Jes' eyes widened. "My scent?" he asked softly. "You mean... my cologne?"

Bible nodded slowly, playing innocent. "Mmm. I'm not sure. Let me smell it... a bit closer." And then he leaned in, nose brushing Jes' neck.

Jes froze. Bible could see the man's throat work, a vein in his neck visibly pulsing under the skin as Bible's warm breath ghosted across it.

God, I'm evil, Bible thought. But his own desire was winning. He needed this.

"Mmm..." Bible hummed against Jes' neck. "Not sure why... citrusy..." He knew exactly why, but he wasn't about to tell Jes that. Jes didn't move at first. Then, finally, he broke.

He wrapped an arm around Bible, pulling him flush against his chest, holding him firmly. "Maybe you can smell it better here," he said, voice low and nervous.

Bible let out a soft breath, burying his nose in Jes' chest.

God, this man. He could hear Jes' heartbeat speeding up. Now... maybe now you'll kiss me, Bible thought smugly, playing the innocent little victim perfectly pressed against his husband's chest.

"No... I don't know... mmmh... I'm not sure," Bible kept saying, voice low, still nuzzled close.

Jes, heart thumping, gently took Bible's face in his hands again, guiding it to rest against his cheek.

Uuh, we are close now, Bible thought, breath catching. He trailed his nose along Jes' sharp jawline, slow as sin, then down to his chin... then back up. Now, just a finger's width away from Jes' lips.

Eyes wide, innocent, but very much knowing, he whispered: "I'm not sure..." He could see it. Jes was fighting with himself. The tension in his shoulders, the twitch of his hands, the way his eyes kept flicking to Bible's mouth.

Don't fight. Come on. Let it go, Bible thought, pulse racing. But then,  damn him, Jes broke first.

He stepped back abruptly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe tomorrow you'll remember," he said, voice a little strained, a flicker of regret in his eyes.

And just like that, he grabbed his jacket and walked out, leaving Bible standing there... hot, flushed, and now painfully aware of the tent in his pants.

"Am I not attractive anymore?!" Bible groaned aloud, throwing his head back against the marble counter.

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POV: Jes

He still doesn't remember me.

Jes slumped down into the leather seat of the Mercedes, head falling back, eyes closing. He looked every bit the successful man in his crisp shirt and cologne, except now he felt wrecked inside.

He had done everything possible. Everything. Took care of Bible around the clock, tried to trigger memories with words, with touches, even though his self-control was hanging by a thread.

But now? He was at his limit.

Sure, he hadn't tried the intimissimi way, even if he was dying inside every time Bible looked at him like that. But no. He couldn't cross that line.

Not when Bible kept saying: "You're not my husband." Those words were like knives to Jes' chest. The first few days he could bear it, could tell himself it was the shock, it was temporary.

But now? Almost two weeks had passed. And it was burning. He had talked to the doctor earlier that day, desperate.

"If he still doesn't remember after two weeks," the doctor had said, "he might not remember at all. Or... he doesn't want to remember."

"Doesn't want to remember?" Jes had asked, cold creeping into his bones.

"Yes," the doctor continued. "Sometimes patients are traumatized by something before the accident. The brain protects itself. It prevents them from recalling painful or disturbing situations."

Now those words haunted Jes.

"Doesn't want to remember..."

His hands gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles went white.

Was it really that bad? Was our marriage, my lie, so painful for him that his brain locked it away?

Jes swallowed hard, chest aching. He stared through the windshield, eyes unfocused.God, if I only knew... if I only knew how to fix this.

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After a long evening, two weeks of missed work packed into one nonstop day, Jes was running on fumes. The late meeting had gone well. The clients were pleased, and when they insisted on going for drinks afterward, Jes couldn't say no. It was a good sign, celebrating usually meant the deal was solid.

They ordered the best whisky the bar could offer. Jes only had two glasses, but they hit fast. Exhaustion didn't help. Two glasses in, and he was already feeling tipsy, his body screaming for sleep.

God, I'm so tired.

The whole day had been work, but underneath it all, Jes had been thinking only about one thing: Bible. How could he bring his memories back? Was he pushing too hard? Was he not pushing enough? It was eating him alive.

Finally, after they'd parted ways, Jes dragged himself to the motel room. White sheets, too bright. He hadn't the energy to pull off his shirt before collapsing into bed.

But when he reached for his phone, the first time in hours, his heart stopped.

Several missed calls. From Bible.

"Shit." Jes shot upright, dizzy from both the whisky and sudden panic.

"Shit. Shit. Shit." His fingers flew over the screen. He called back immediately.

No answer. 

Again.

Still no answer.

"Come on, come on, baby, pick up..." Jes could feel his pulse hammering in his throat. Something had happened. He knew it. Bible would never call him like this unless...

"Damn it."

Then Jes called Bible's friends, hoping someone would pick up. Lucky break, Mio answered.

"HELLLLOUW?!" Mio practically yelled, clearly wasted.

"Mio," Jes snapped, voice sharp. "Is Bible with you? Where is he?"

"Not anymore, bro. We were at your place, but we left about an hour ago," Mio slurred.

Jes clenched his jaw. "Did you guys drink?"

"Yessss sir!" came the proud reply.

Jes shot up from the bed, furious. "Mio! He's on strong medication! He can't drink!" His voice was rough with panic and anger.

"Yo chill, man. Don't yell like that. Now I get why Bible says you're so strict with him," Mio huffed. That stung, Jes knew it.

"He didn't drink, alright?" Mio added quickly.

Jes exhaled, forcing himself to calm down. In the background, he heard another voice.

"Give me the phone, Mio," came JJay's voice, more steady.

"Hey, it's me, JJay."

"JJay—Bible called me, I've been trying to reach him. I'm an hour away. I'm heading back now, but can you check on him? Please?" Jes asked, already packing his things, grabbing his keys.

"Relax, he's okay. Just had one of his classic Bible meltdowns, that's all," JJay said coolly.

Jes gritted his teeth. "What do you mean by that?"

"I think you should ask him yourself, man." JJay's tone held something Jes couldn't read.

"Alright. I'm on my way."

"Don't stress too much. He's fine. Talk soon." And with that, JJay hung up.

Just as Jes grabbed his keys, ready to bolt out of the motel, there was a loud knock, no, a thump at the door.

Jes frowned. He hadn't ordered any room service. Cautiously, he opened the door just a crack.

And there he was.

Bible.

Standing on crutches, dressed in a black top and matching black trousers, balanced on one leg, face flushed, eyes burning.

"Bible?!" Jes was stunned. "What, what are you doing here?!"

"Why didn't you pick up your phone?!" Bible snapped, glaring at him, then trying to peek past Jes into the room.

"And why won't you let me in?!" he gritted out, voice sharp.

Jes stepped aside, still dazed. "I—come in. I didn't see your calls, I was trying to call back—"

But Bible had already hobbled inside, crutches clacking against the floor. As he leaned in closer to Jes, his nose scrunched.

"You reek. You've been drinking." His tone was ice.

"I had two drinks. With clients," Jes admitted, still confused as hell.

But Bible wasn't done. His gaze darkened. "Is she still here?" he demanded, eyes scanning the room.

Without waiting, he began searching, bathroom, closet, throwing the door open after door. Then he made a move to crouch down, trying to peer under the bed.

Jes reacted fast, grabbing his arm. "Don't!" he said, panic in his voice.

"WHY THE HELL WON'T YOU LET ME LOOK THEN?!" Bible shouted, struggling to pull free.

Jes held on, heart racing. "Your—" he started, but then it hit him.

Oh shit.

He thinks...

"Your leg, Bible. Please. Don't hurt yourself." Jes said firmly, trying to steady him.

But Bible wasn't having it. His voice cracked as he unleashed everything in one breathless, furious rant:

"I KNEW IT, JES! Acting all holy, pretending to be my husband while I can't remember a DAMN thing, then saying you've got some meeting in a motel, coming home late, NOT answering your phone, and now I find you here, DRUNK! In this tiny motel room—" he pointed at Jes, eyes blazing.

"And look at your shirt! This morning there were two buttons undone. Now there are FOUR. FOUR, JES!" he shouted, practically shaking.

"Just SAY IT—where is she?! Is she under the bed?! Are you hiding her?!"

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POV: AuthorHah, i love it. What's better than a small motel room, a drunk Jes, and a jealous Bible? Nothing, honestly. We're serving pure drama on a silver platter tonight.