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Hey!! This is my first ever fanfic post! I’m a new fanfic creator so please have mercy 😅 I hope you guys really like this!!! More coming soon!!!
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You had the best day ever. You were driving home from one of the best hangouts you’ve had with your friends in a long time, blasting Bryson Tiller in your car with the windows down, feeling alive.
Your favorite song from his album “Write My Wrongs” starts playing, and you sit back in your seat, wrapped in ecstasy. You’re vibing in your car while the traffic lights glow red on the road—until you hear a familiar voice.
He sounds so familiar. You turn to the side to catch a quick glance before looking back at the light.
You finally turn your attention to him—and recognize his face immediately. Jean Kirstein from high school. He was in a chill friend group, always arguing with his friends, usually in the art room after school hours. And yet here he was again, talking to you like he used to when you sat next to each other in senior year pre-calc.
When you sat next to him in class, you always caught him looking at you from the corner of your eye, but you never said anything—just let fate happen when it was supposed to.
You were the kind of person who was a “friend of a friend”—always present in social circles but slightly on the edges. Not closed off, just… in between. Not unpopular, but not widely noticed either. So seeing Jean Kirstein of all people again felt like a shift in your world.
As a hobby, you raced random people. In fact, you were really good. You also went to watch car races in your free time. You’d met incredible racers and even gotten autographs from professionals.
“Okay!” you call out without thinking. It just slips out—but you stand by the rule you and your college roommate made: No keeps you safe, but yes keeps you alive.
You follow Jean to an abandoned airport runway. It feels slightly sketchy, yet strangely electric, with a crowd already gathering to watch.
When you both get out of your cars, you share a quick conversation before the race.
“So… how have you been, Y/N?” he asks, his voice slightly unsteady.
“Nothing much—just hanging out with friends, school, all that stuff,” you reply casually.
He looks down at his feet. “Nice to finally hear from you. We haven’t talked since high school.”
As you both settle into your cars, preparing for the race, you can’t help but glance at him. He looks different—more mature. Taller. A little more handsome, actually. Exactly your type.
“On your mark, get set… GO!” one of Jean’s friends calls out.
At that second, you hit the gas in your newly bought Mazda MX-5 Miata, the wind whipping through your hair as it spills out the window, making the night feel almost cinematic.
To be honest, you don’t even care that much about winning—you just thought it would be fun. You would’ve been bored at home anyway.
The cool night air brushes against your skin, and Bryson Tiller plays softly in the background, making everything feel even more unreal.
You and Jean are neck and neck, but you slow for just a second. Jean takes the opportunity and speeds ahead. Your car isn’t the fastest, but it’s light and responsive—there’s still a chance.
You can see the crowd gathered near the finish line in the distance. You push harder, catching up until you’re side by side again. Jean glances at you for a split second, watching as you accelerate.
In the end, you win—but Jean doesn’t seem bothered. He’s too busy stealing small glances at you: the glow of your skin under the streetlights, the way you drive with your hair flowing behind you, effortless and cinematic.
You both step out of your cars at the same time. You’re excited, and so is everyone else. Jean looks the same as always—slightly cocky—but there’s something softer in the way he watches you smile.
“You know… I’m really glad to see you again,” he says, slightly out of breath.
“Me too!” you reply, still buzzing from the win. Not only did you race—you beat the cutest guy you know.
You walk over beside him. “That was so fun, Jean. We need to do that again sometime.”
“Yeah,” he says, then adds, “You look good driving.”
He holds your gaze for a moment. “What?”
“I mean—uh, you’re a great driver!” he quickly corrects himself.
His flustered explanation makes you laugh harder. “You’re funny,” you say, gently patting his shoulder. He lets out a quiet chuckle.
Suddenly, Jean’s phone rings in his pocket, making your hand slip back to your side.
“Yo, you still coming over?” a voice says on the other end.
“Yeah. I’ll be there in a bit,” he replies.
He hangs up and turns back to you. “It was nice talking to you again. Mind if I get your number? You know… so we can race again sometime.”
You nod and pull out your phone.
The two of you exchange numbers, then say your goodbyes. You walk back to your car.
When you finally get in, you catch your reflection in the mirror and smile to yourself.
For a moment, everything feels different—like the night just shifted, and somehow, so did you.
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Let me know if you guys liked it and if you want to be @ in my next posts, I wanna hear your opinions!!!
