When rivalry meets ramen, hearts get tangled in unexpected ways.
The sticky Bangkok evening felt warmer than usual, the neon lights reflecting off puddles from an earlier rain. Fah led the way to the noodle shop, his confidence hiding the flutter in his chest. He wasn't overthinking this; he didn't need to. Tonight, he would follow his heart and see where it led.
Tawan trailed behind, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. "You do realize this is basically a glorified street stall, right?"
"Yes," Fah said without missing a beat, "and that's why it's perfect. You can't mess this up with fancy silverware or overpriced cocktails."
Tawan's smirk appeared, the one that always made Fah's knees a little weaker than they should be. "I don't know whether to be impressed or terrified by your audacity."
The shop smelled like sizzling garlic, chili, and fresh noodles. They squeezed into a tiny table for two, the chairs scraping against each other. Fah watched as Tawan surveyed the place with that precise, almost clinical gaze, as if he were evaluating a new patient rather than a date.
"Alright, scientist," Tawan said, "what do you recommend?"
Fah leaned back, elbows on the table, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Trust me. You'll thank me later."
The bowls arrived—steam rising, noodles curling like little coils of golden thread. Fah picked up his chopsticks, stabbing at a slippery piece of meat before successfully scooping it into his mouth. Tawan watched, unimpressed.
"You call that technique?" he asked. "Amateurs."
Fah snorted. "Oh, please. I'm an engineer. Precision is my middle name."
"Not with noodles," Tawan quipped, leaning over to steal a bite from Fah's bowl.
Fah froze, chopsticks in mid-air. "Hey!"
Tawan's grin was impossible to resist, playful and infuriating all at once. "Sharing is caring, engineer."
Fah rolled his eyes, but he couldn't stop laughing. "Fine. But next time, you're paying."
They continued to eat, trading jokes, teasing each other over spilled broth, and arguing about which noodle topping was superior. Every glance, every brush of fingers, made the air between them electric, but neither seemed to notice—or care.
After a while, Tawan leaned back, sighing dramatically. "You know, this isn't terrible. I might even—dare I say it—enjoy myself."
Fah leaned forward, mock-serious. "Don't say it too loudly. It'll ruin your reputation as a flawless, condescending med student."
Tawan chuckled, his hand brushing Fah's across the table. "Maybe I don't mind ruining my reputation if it means spending time with you."
Fah's heart stuttered. He grinned, the kind of grin that made him feel lighter than air. "Good. Because I'm not letting you escape my world that easily."
By the time they left the noodle shop, their laughter echoed down the narrow street. Fah didn't feel embarrassed or awkward; he felt… light. For the first time, chaos and precision, rivalry and attraction, had blended into something exhilaratingly simple.
Tawan looped his arm through Fah's as they walked. "You're impossible, you know that?"
"And yet," Fah said, eyes sparkling, "you seem to like it."
Tawan didn't answer, only smiled that infuriating, soft smile, and for the first time, Fah didn't mind that he couldn't figure him out.
Tonight, physics didn't matter. Logic didn't matter. What mattered was this—messy, unpredictable, perfectly imperfect connection that neither of them wanted to escape.