#jay scenario

The roar of engines filled the Monaco circuit as qualifying rounds neared their end. Park Jongseong—Jay to the world—sat in the cockpit of his Hybe Hyphen Model 7, fingers wrapped around the steering wheel with mechanical precision. The carbon fiber felt cold beneath his gloves, much like everything else in his life had become over the past four years.

"Radio check, Jay. How are we feeling?" His race engineer's voice crackled through the headset.

"All systems optimal," Jay responded, his voice devoid of the excitement that should accompany being mere hours away from the most important race of his career. The Monaco Grand Prix finale—the race that would determine this year's Formula 1 World Championship. After four years of near-misses, third places that felt like defeats, and second places that tasted like ash, this was his moment.

The pit crew moved around his car like a well-oiled machine, checking tire pressure, adjusting aerodynamics, and fine-tuning every possible element that could give him the edge he needed. Jay watched them through his helmet's visor, feeling oddly detached from the chaos surrounding him. These people had dedicated their lives to getting him to this moment, yet he felt nothing but the familiar hollow ache that had become his constant companion.

When had it started? The question plagued him during every quiet moment, every split second between gear changes, every breath between corners. Was it at sixteen, when he first stepped into a Formula 3 car and felt the addictive rush of speed? Was it at nineteen, when he claimed his first victory and the champagne tasted like liquid gold? Or was it later, when success became routine and victories felt more like obligations than achievements?

No. He knew exactly when it started.

"We can't do this. My... my career will be taking off soon and... I just don't want you to feel the burden of having me as your partner. So I'm letting you go."

Four years, two months, and thirteen days ago. Not that he was counting.

Jay closed his eyes behind his visor, trying to push away the memory of your face—the way confusion had flickered across your features before settling into hurt, then acceptance. You'd nodded, gathered your things from his apartment with devastating efficiency, and walked out of his life with a dignity that made his chest ache even now.

"Jay, we need you for the final briefing," his team principal's voice cut through his reverie.

He climbed out of the car with fluid grace, his movements economical and precise. At twenty-five, Jay had perfected the art of being Park Jongseong—Hybe Motors' golden boy, the driver who could make a car dance through corners that should have been impossible, the face that graced magazine covers and endorsement deals. Off the track, he was equally polished: a skilled vocalist who'd released three albums during his racing career, a dancer whose performances had gone viral countless times, a polyglot who conducted interviews in five languages with charming ease.

To the world, he was perfect. To himself, he was nothing but an expertly crafted shell.

The briefing room buzzed with controlled energy. Engineers pointed at telemetry data while strategists discussed tire strategies and weather patterns. Jay absorbed the information with computerlike efficiency, his responses sharp and accurate. He knew his role in this symphony of speed and precision, and he played it flawlessly.

"The car's handling beautifully," his chief engineer reported. "Downforce package is optimal for Monaco's tight corners, and the new hybrid system is giving us an extra twelve horsepower on the straights."

Jay nodded, studying the track layout projected on the wall. Monaco—the jewel of Formula 1, where careers were made and legends were born. The narrow streets offered no forgiveness, demanded absolute precision, and rewarded only the fearless. It should have excited him. Instead, he felt the same mechanical focus that had carried him through the past four years.

His teammates—Sunghoon and Jake—were practically vibrating with anticipation. Sunghoon, the quiet pillar of the trio, had never won Monaco despite three previous chances. Jake, the charmer rookie, was experiencing his first championship battle. Their excitement should have been infectious, but Jay remained untouched by their enthusiasm.

"You've been quiet," Sunghoon observed as they left the briefing room. "Even for you."

"Just focused," Jay replied, which wasn't entirely untrue. Focus was all he had left.

Jake fell into step beside them, his youthful energy a stark contrast to Jay's composed exterior. "I can't believe we're actually here. Championship on the line, Monaco finale—it's like something out of a movie."

"It's just another race," Jay said automatically, the lie rolling off his tongue with practiced ease.

Both drivers looked at him strangely, but Jay was already walking away, seeking the solitude of his driver's room. The space was sterile and efficient—exactly like everything else in his life. Championship trophies lined the shelves, but they felt more like participation awards than symbols of achievement. Photos from victories showed him smiling and raising champagne bottles, but even he could see the emptiness behind his eyes in those captured moments.

His phone buzzed with messages—well-wishes from celebrities, encouragement from fans, strategic updates from his management team. He scrolled through them with mechanical thoroughness, responding where necessary with the polished charm that had become second nature. Everything was perfectly curated, professionally managed, and emotionally vacant.

The afternoon practice session passed in a blur of hot laps and data collection. Jay's times were consistently fast, placing him in provisional pole position for tomorrow's qualifying. The car responded to his inputs like an extension of his body, every turn and brake point executed with mathematical precision. His engineers cheered over the radio, but their excitement felt distant, muffled by the protective barriers he'd built around himself.

"Beautiful driving, Jay!" his race engineer exclaimed as he pulled into the pits. "The car looks phenomenal. If we can maintain this pace tomorrow, pole position is ours."

Jay nodded from the cockpit, accepting the praise with the same detachment he'd cultivated for everything else. Pole position, podium finishes, championship points—they were all just numbers on a screen now, metrics to be optimized rather than dreams to be chased.

As the sun began to set over Monaco's harbor, painting the Mediterranean in shades of gold and amber, Jay found himself on the hotel balcony overlooking the circuit. The track lay quiet now, but tomorrow it would come alive with the symphony of racing engines and the dreams of millions of fans worldwide. He should have felt anticipation, nervousness, excitement—anything. Instead, he felt the familiar emptiness that had become his closest companion.

His phone rang, pulling him from his contemplation. The caller ID showed his mother's name, and he answered with automatic warmth.

"Hey, Ma."

"My champion!!" She said, her voice bright with pride. "I just wanted to wish you luck for tomorrow. Your father and I will be watching every lap, okay?"

"Thank you," he replied, injecting enthusiasm into his voice that he didn't feel. "I'll … do my best."

"You always do. But Jay..." Her voice softened with maternal concern. "When was the last time you took a rest? Really took a rest, not just for a day between races?"

The question caught him off guard. When had he last rested — truly rested, picturing home with him sitting at the kitchen table while his mother fussed over him and his father shared stories from his engineering days? Not the sterile perfection of his Monaco apartment or the temporary luxury of five-star hotels, but the warmth of the house where he'd grown up dreaming of speed and glory.

"I've been busy," he said, which was true but incomplete.

"I know, but busy isn't the same as living. Your father worries that you're pushing yourself too hard. We both do."

Jay closed his eyes, leaning against the balcony railing. His parents had sacrificed everything for his racing career—his father's engineering expertise, his mother's unwavering support, their savings, their time, and their dreams, which had been reshaped around his potential. They deserved a son who appreciated their sacrifices, not one who felt hollow despite achieving everything they'd worked toward together.

"I'm fine, Ma. Really."

The lie came easily, polished by years of practice. He was Park Jongseong, F1 driver, recording artist, global sensation. He had to be fine.

After ending the call, Jay remained on the balcony as Monaco transformed around him—the harbor filled with superyachts belonging to celebrities and billionaires drawn to Formula 1's glamour. Restaurant terraces buzzed with animated conversations about tomorrow's race. The principality pulsed with anticipation while he felt increasingly disconnected from it all.

His reflection in the balcony door showed a man who looked every inch the champion—perfectly styled hair, designer clothes, the kind of effortless elegance that magazines loved to photograph. But the eyes looking back at him were empty, going through the motions of a life that had lost its meaning somewhere along the way.

"So, I'm letting you go."

The words echoed in his memory, as sharp and painful as they'd been four years ago. He'd thought he was being noble, sacrificing personal happiness for professional achievement. He'd convinced himself that love was a luxury he couldn't afford, that emotional attachments would weaken his focus and compromise his performance.

How wrong he'd been.

The irony wasn't lost on him—in gaining everything he'd thought he wanted, he'd lost the only thing that had ever truly mattered. And now, on the eve of potentially claiming his first World Championship, he felt more alone than ever.

Jay's phone buzzed again, this time with a message from his management team about tomorrow's media schedule. Interviews, photo shoots, sponsor obligations—the machinery of modern Formula 1 that transformed drivers into brands and races into content. He responded with professional efficiency, confirming his availability and requesting his usual preparation routine.

The next morning arrived with Monaco's characteristic blend of luxury and urgency. The paddock hummed with controlled chaos as teams made final preparations for qualifying. Jay moved through his routine with mechanical precision—physical therapy, nutrition consultation, technical briefing, media obligations. Each step was calculated to optimize his performance, leaving nothing to chance.

"How are you feeling about today?" a journalist asked during the mandatory press conference.

"Confident in the car and the team," Jay replied smoothly. "We've had a strong pace all weekend. The championship is within reach, and we're going to give everything to achieve it."

The words sounded hollow even to him, but they satisfied the media's appetite for sound bites and competitive spirit. He fielded questions about race strategy, tire management, and championship pressure with the polished responses that had made him a media darling. Every answer was perfect, every smile precisely calibrated.

But as he left the press conference, Jay couldn't shake the feeling that he was performing his own life rather than living it.

Qualifying unfolded with typical Monaco drama. The narrow track magnified every mistake while rewarding perfection with laptime improvements measured in hundredths of seconds. Jay's first run put him provisional pole, his car dancing through the Swimming Pool chicane and Monaco's famous Casino corner with balletic grace. The radio crackled with excitement from his engineers, but he felt only professional satisfaction.

"That's provisional pole, Jay! Beautiful lap!"

"Copy that," he responded, already analyzing the data for his next attempt.

The session's final minutes brought the championship battle into sharp focus. His closest rival, Leclerc, found extra pace to match Jay's time within milliseconds. The grid positions would be decided by fractions, margins so small they seemed almost arbitrary yet crucial for tomorrow's championship outcome.

Jay's final qualifying lap was perfection distilled into ninety seconds of absolute precision. Every corner optimized, every braking point pushed to the absolute limit, every gear change timed to extract maximum performance from the Hybe Hyphen Model 7. When he crossed the timing line, the trackside screens erupted with his new pole position time—a lap record that left his competitors scrambling for answers.

"POLE POSITION!" his race engineer screamed over the radio. "That was absolutely incredible, Jay! Lap record! Championship pole!"

Jay acknowledged the achievement with professional calm, but as he climbed from the car in parc fermé, surrounded by photographers and television cameras capturing every moment for global broadcast, he felt the familiar emptiness that achievement brought. Another milestone reached, another box checked, another step toward a championship that felt increasingly meaningless.

The post-qualifying interviews blurred together—questions about tomorrow's strategy, pressure management, championship emotions. Jay provided the expected responses with media-trained precision, his smile never wavering despite the void behind it. He was Park Jongseong, poised on the brink of Formula 1 immortality, and he had to look the part.

But that night, alone in his hotel room overlooking Monaco's twinkling harbor, Jay stared at the ceiling and wondered when achievement had stopped feeling like victory and started feeling like just another obligation fulfilled.

His championship trophy case would gain one more piece tomorrow—the ultimate prize that millions dreamed of but few achieved. Yet as he drifted toward sleep, Jay couldn't shake the certainty that even winning the World Championship wouldn't fill the hollow space where his heart used to be.

Race day dawned crisp and clear, Monaco's Mediterranean climate providing perfect conditions for what promised to be a championship battle for the ages. Jay woke before his alarm, his internal clock calibrated by years of racing routine. The morning ritual began with physical preparation—stretching, nutrition, hydration calculated to optimize his body for the physical demands ahead.

The paddock buzzed with championship energy as Jay arrived at the circuit. Fans pressed against barriers hoping for glimpses of their heroes, photographers captured every moment for posterity, and television crews broadcast live updates to millions of viewers worldwide. Jay moved through it all with practiced ease, acknowledging fans with waves and smiles while maintaining the focused demeanor that had become his trademark.

"Big day," Sunghoon commented as they walked toward the Hybe Motors hospitality unit.

"Every day is big," Jay replied automatically.

His teammate studied him for a moment, concern flickering across his features. "When was the last time you seemed excited about anything?"

The question caught Jay off guard. When had he last felt genuine excitement? Not the manufactured enthusiasm for cameras or the professional satisfaction of lap times achieved, but real, unguarded joy? The answer came unwillingly—four years, two months, and seventeen days ago.

Before he could respond, Jake joined them, practically bouncing with nervous energy. "I can't believe this is it. Championship deciding race, Monaco, everything we've worked for coming down to the next two hours."

His youthful enthusiasm should have been infectious, but Jay felt only the familiar detachment that had insulated him from both disappointment and joy. "It's just another race," he said, the lie automatic and unconvincing.

Both drivers exchanged glances but said nothing more as they entered the team area. The Hybe Motors garage hummed with purposeful activity—engineers analyzing weather data, strategists discussing tire compounds, mechanics making final adjustments to the cars that would determine their championship fate.

Jay's pre-race routine unfolded with ritual precision. Technical briefing with his engineers, reviewing telemetry data and race scenarios. Strategy meeting with the team principal, discussing everything from pit stop windows to weather contingencies. Physical preparation with his trainer, ensuring his body was optimally prepared for the demands ahead.

Each step was performed with mechanical efficiency, his responses sharp and professional. But as Jay went through the motions, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was preparing for someone else's race, someone else's championship, someone else's dream.

"You seem different today," his race engineer observed during their final technical review.

"Different how?" Jay asked, though he suspected the answer.

"More distant than usual. And that's saying something."

Jay had no response that wouldn't sound either defensive or revealing, so he simply nodded and returned his attention to the data screens. Tire degradation curves, fuel consumption calculations, weather probability matrices—the technical aspects of racing provided refuge from more uncomfortable introspections.

The final hour before the race brought its own rhythm. Jay changed into his racing suit with methodical precision, each piece of safety equipment checked and double-checked. The familiar weight of his helmet felt comforting, the sanctuary it provided from the outside world's chaos and expectations.

As he walked toward the grid for the formation lap, Jay caught sight of the media pen buzzing with activity. Journalists from around the world had gathered to witness what many were calling the most significant Monaco Grand Prix in decades. Among them, he noticed the distinctive blue and black of Vogue's branding, their correspondent presumably preparing to capture the fashion and glamour that surrounded Formula 1's most prestigious race.

The formation lap passed in a blur of sighting laps and warm-up procedures. Jay's Hybe Hyphen Model 7 felt perfectly balanced, responding to his inputs with the mechanical sympathy that separated great cars from good ones. The pole position slot stretched ahead of him, thirty-nine other drivers arrayed behind in the grid formation that would determine the championship battle's opening moves.

"Radio check, Jay. How are we feeling?"

"All systems nominal," he responded, his voice carrying the same professional calm it had maintained for four years.

The five red lights began their sequence—one, two, three, four, five. The silence stretched for an eternity measured in heartbeats. Then, in an instant that felt both eternal and instantaneous, the lights went out.

Jay's start was perfection incarnate—wheelspin controlled to the precise threshold, racing line maintained through the first corner, championship position defended with clinical precision. Behind him, thirty-nine other drivers fought for every meter of track position on Monaco's unforgiving streets.

The race unfolded with typical Monaco characteristics—strategy dictated by track position, overtaking opportunities created more by misfortune than pure speed. Jay controlled the pace from the front, his lap times consistent and controlled, building the gap necessary to maintain his championship advantage.

"You're doing perfectly," his race engineer reported after twenty laps. "Gap to second place is eight seconds, championship rival is running fourth. Everything is under control."

Under control. The phrase seemed to define his entire life—every emotion regulated, every response calculated, every moment managed to optimize outcomes rather than experienced for its own sake. Jay acknowledged the update and continued his metronomic pace, feeling more like a highly sophisticated machine than a human pursuing his dreams.

Lap thirty brought the first strategic complication. A backmarker's mechanical failure brought out the safety car, bunching the field and erasing Jay's carefully built advantage. Suddenly, the championship leader found himself surrounded by hungry competitors ready to capitalize on any mistake.

"Safety car window is open if you want to pit," his engineer reported.

"Negative," Jay responded. "Staying out."

The decision was calculated—track position trumped tire advantage on Monaco's narrow streets. But as the safety car pulled in and racing resumed, Jay found himself defending against faster cars on fresher tires. The clinical precision that had served him perfectly suddenly felt insufficient against drivers motivated by desperation and opportunity.

For the first time in years, Jay felt something beyond professional focus. Not excitement, exactly, but a heightened awareness that came from being truly challenged. His car responded to increasingly precise inputs as he defended his position through Monaco's signature corners—the Swimming Pool, Rascasse, the tunnel section where braking points determined everything.

"Leclerc is closing," his engineer warned. "Gap down to two seconds."

Jay could see the Ferrari in his mirrors, growing larger with each passing corner. This was racing stripped to its essence—two drivers in perfectly matched machines, fighting for position that would determine championship glory. It should have excited him, this pure distillation of everything he'd worked toward.

Instead, he felt only the mechanical focus that had carried him through four years of emotional emptiness.

With ten laps remaining, disaster struck from an unexpected quarter. A backmarker lost control exiting the chicane, his car sliding into the barriers and bringing out another safety car. The field bunched once again, erasing Jay's careful management and setting up a final sprint that would decide everything.

"This is it," his engineer said unnecessarily. "Ten lap sprint to the championship."

Jay acknowledged the obvious and prepared for the restart. His hands felt steady on the steering wheel, his breathing controlled and even. Everything was exactly as it should be for a driver on the verge of achieving his ultimate goal. Yet something felt fundamentally wrong, though he couldn't identify exactly what.

The safety car pulled in with five laps remaining. Jay controlled the restart perfectly, timing his acceleration to maintain track position while preventing the cars behind from getting a slipstream advantage. The championship was within reach—five laps of precision driving, five laps of the focus that had defined his career.

But as he navigated turn one of the restart, something unexpected caught his attention. In the periphery of his vision, beyond the barriers and spectator areas, he glimpsed a familiar figure in the media area. The recognition hit him like a physical blow, breaking through the emotional barriers he'd maintained for four years.

It couldn't be. After all this time, after everything that had happened, you couldn't be here. Not now, not when he was so close to achieving everything he'd sacrificed for.

The momentary distraction cost him nothing measurable—his lap time remained consistent, his racing line unchanged, his championship position secure. But something fundamental shifted in that instant of recognition. The mechanical focus that had insulated him from both joy and pain cracked, allowing emotions he'd buried to surge toward the surface.

Three laps to go. Jay forced himself to concentrate on the racing line, on the precise brake points and gear changes that would deliver the championship. But part of his mind remained stuck on that glimpse of a figure that couldn't possibly be who he thought it was.

Two laps to go. The checkered flag was practically within sight, the championship almost certainly secured. Jay's lap times remained consistent despite the emotional turmoil threatening to overwhelm his carefully constructed defenses.

One lap to go. Jay could see the finish line ahead, could almost taste the champagne that awaited the new World Champion. But instead of elation or relief, he felt only the crushing weight of an achievement that had cost him everything that truly mattered.

The checkered flag fell as Jay crossed the line, his Hybe Hyphen Model 7 carrying him to the Formula 1 World Championship that had defined his dreams for over a decade. The radio exploded with celebration from his team, their voices filled with the joy and relief that should have been his.

"WORLD CHAMPION! WORLD CHAMPION! Jay, you've done it! World Champion!"

Jay acknowledged the congratulations with professional calm, bringing the car slowly around the circuit on his victory lap. The grandstands erupted with celebration, fans waving flags and cheering for the new champion. It was everything he'd imagined, everything he'd worked toward, everything he'd sacrificed for.

So why did he feel nothing but emptiness?

The victory celebration unfolded with familiar choreography. Jay climbed from his car in parc fermé, surrounded by photographers and television cameras capturing every moment of his championship triumph. His team surrounded him with hugs and congratulations, their genuine emotion a stark contrast to the mechanical satisfaction he felt.

Interviews followed—the standard questions about how it felt to be World Champion, what this meant for his career, how he planned to celebrate. Jay provided the expected responses with media-trained precision, his smile never wavering despite the hollowness behind it.

But throughout the celebration, his eyes searched the media area for confirmation of what he thought he'd seen during the race. It couldn't have been you—after four years of carefully maintained separation, after building a life that specifically excluded the possibility of encountering you again. Yet the possibility gnawed at him, threatening to unravel the emotional control that had gotten him through this moment.

The podium ceremony approached, and Jay prepared for the culmination of his championship journey. As he walked toward the podium structure, he caught sight of movement in the media pen. His breath caught as he recognized the unmistakable profile that had haunted his dreams for four years.

You were here. At his championship moment, covering the race that represented the pinnacle of everything he'd achieved at the cost of everything he'd lost.

Jay's steps faltered for just a moment before his media training reasserted control. He continued toward the podium with apparent calm, but internally, his carefully constructed emotional barriers were crumbling. After four years of mechanical focus and professional achievement, seeing you here threatened to overwhelm him with everything he'd buried.

The championship trophy felt heavier than expected as it was placed in his hands. The weight of achievement, of sacrifice, of dreams fulfilled and hearts broken. As champagne sprayed and photographers captured his moment of triumph, Jay's eyes found you in the crowd below.

For an instant that felt eternal, your eyes met across the chaos of celebration. Four years of separation, four years of carefully maintained distance, four years of pretending that breaking both your hearts had been worth it—all of it collapsed into a single moment of recognition and regret.

You looked exactly as he remembered—professional composure masking depths of emotion, camera in hand, but attention focused entirely on him. The years had been kind to you, adding maturity to features that had never left his memory despite his best efforts to forget.

Jay raised the championship trophy above his head, the gesture expected and performed flawlessly. But his attention remained fixed on you, wondering what you were thinking, what you were feeling, whether seeing him achieve everything he'd chosen over you brought you satisfaction or regret.

The podium ceremony concluded with Jay's championship confirmed and celebrated. As he descended from the platform, his mind raced with possibilities and fears in equal measure. You were here, in Monaco, covering his race. The universe had a cruel sense of timing, bringing you back into his life at the exact moment when he'd achieved everything he'd thought he wanted.

Jay moved through the post-race obligations on autopilot—more interviews, more photographs, more celebrations that felt increasingly hollow. His championship medal felt like a consolation prize, tangible proof of everything he'd gained and everything he'd lost in pursuit of this moment.

As the formal celebrations wound down and the paddock began to empty, Jay found himself walking slowly toward the media area. He told himself he was simply fulfilling professional obligations, ensuring he'd satisfied every interview request and promotional requirement. But truthfully, he was hoping for another glimpse of you, another confirmation that the moment on the podium hadn't been an exhaustion-induced hallucination.

The media pen was quieter now, most journalists having filed their stories and departed for evening celebrations. Jay nodded politely to the remaining reporters, his championship composure never wavering despite the emotional chaos beneath.

And then he saw you again, packing camera equipment with the methodical efficiency he remembered so well. You moved with professional purpose, but something in your posture suggested the same emotional turbulence that threatened to overwhelm him.

Jay approached slowly, each step feeling simultaneously inevitable and terrifying. Four years of separation, four years of career focus, four years of convincing himself that he'd made the right choice—all of it leading to this moment in a half-empty media area where past and present collided with devastating force.

"You're here," he said, the words escaping before he could stop them.

You looked up from your equipment, and for a moment, time seemed suspended between recognition and reaction. Your professional composure remained intact, but Jay could see the emotions flickering beneath the surface—surprise, old hurt, something that might have been longing quickly suppressed.

"I am, yeah." You replied carefully. "How are you doing? We're both busy today, aren't we?"

The question was neutral, professional, and safe. But for Jay, it represented the first genuine human connection he'd felt in four years. Not the manufactured interactions of media obligations or the strategic relationships of professional networking, but actual contact with someone who had known him before he became Park Jongseong, Formula 1 World Champion.

"Congratulations, by the way," you continued when he didn't immediately respond. "World Champion. Hooh. Everything you worked for."

The words should have brought pride, satisfaction, joy. Instead, they highlighted the hollow victory that his championship had become. Everything he'd worked for, everything he'd sacrificed for, everything he'd broken hearts for—all of it achieved, and all of it feeling meaningless in the face of what he'd lost.

"Thank you," Jay managed, his voice steadier than he felt. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"It’s a Monaco assignment," you explained with professional efficiency. "Vogue wanted coverage of the fashion and glamour aspects. I'm just doing my job."

Just doing your job. The phrase stung more than it should have, reducing their unexpected encounter to professional coincidence rather than the earth-shattering moment it felt like to him. But what had he expected? That you'd be here specifically to see him, to witness his championship, to somehow validate the choice he'd made four years ago?

"The race was … incredible," you continued, your voice carefully neutral. "You drove beautifully. Very controlled, very precise."

Controlled. Precise. The words that had defined his driving, his career, his entire existence for four years. Hearing them from you felt like a diagnosis rather than a compliment, confirmation that the mechanical focus he'd cultivated had cost him more than just emotional connection—it had cost him his humanity.

"It's just another race," Jay said automatically, the response so practiced it emerged without conscious thought.

You studied him for a moment, and he saw something flicker across your features—disappointment, perhaps, or recognition of how much he'd changed. The man you'd known four years ago wouldn't have dismissed his World Championship as 'just another race.' That man had been passionate, emotional, alive in ways that Jay had forgotten how to be.

"Right," you said quietly. "Well, I should finish packing. Long flight back to New York tomorrow."

The mention of departure jolted Jay from his emotional paralysis. You were leaving, returning to the life you'd built after he'd pushed you away. Soon this encounter would be nothing but another memory to file away, another reminder of what he'd sacrificed for achievements that felt increasingly hollow.

"Wait," he said, the word emerging with more desperation than he'd intended.

You paused, camera bag half-packed, looking at him with carefully guarded expression. Jay realized he had no idea what to say next. What could he possibly say that would justify interrupting your departure? What words could bridge four years of silence and hurt?

"I..." he began, then stopped. The polished responses that served him so well in media interviews felt inadequate for this moment. How did he explain four years of mechanical existence? How did he admit that achieving everything he'd thought he wanted had left him feeling more empty than ever?

"I think about you," he said finally, the admission escaping before his professional composure could stop it. "Every day. Every race. Every achievement that should have felt like victory but just felt... hollow."

Your hands stilled on the camera equipment, and for a moment, your professional mask slipped enough to reveal the hurt that still lingered beneath. "Jay..."

"I know I have no right," he continued, words spilling out after four years of careful silence. "I know I made my choice. I know I hurt you. But seeing you here, today, after everything... I can't pretend anymore that I made the right decision."

The admission hung between them like a confession and an apology rolled into one. Jay felt simultaneously relieved and terrified—relieved to finally voice what he'd carried for four years, terrified of what your response might be.

You finished packing your equipment with deliberate movements, not meeting his eyes. When you finally spoke, your voice was carefully controlled. "You were … very clear four years ago about what you wanted. Career first, no distractions, no burdens. Congratulations—you achieved exactly what you said you wanted."

The words hit him like physical blows, each one precisely aimed at the choices that had brought him to this moment. You weren't wrong—he had said those things, had believed them at the time, had convinced himself that emotional attachments were obstacles to overcome rather than sources of strength.

"I was wrong," he said simply. "About everything. The career, the focus, the idea that love was a burden instead of... instead of what made everything else worthwhile."

You shouldered your camera bag, the motion suggesting departure despite his words. "Four years is a long time, Jay. People change, build new lives, and find new purposes. You can't just... You can't just show up after all this time and expect everything to be waiting for you."

The truth of your words cut deep, but Jay pressed on. "I'm not expecting anything. I just... I needed you to know. Not a day has passed without me regretting what I said to you. That every victory has felt empty because you weren't there to share it. That becoming World Champion today should have been the greatest moment of my life, but all I could think about was how meaningless it felt without you."

You studied him for a long moment, and Jay saw years of hurt and healing warring in your expression. "You look tired," you said finally, and the gentleness in your voice nearly undid him completely.

"I am tired," he admitted. "Tired of pretending that achieving everything I thought I wanted was worth losing everything that actually mattered."

The paddock around them had grown quiet, most of the celebration having moved to Monaco's exclusive restaurants and nightclubs. The setting sun cast long shadows across the circuit where Jay had just achieved his greatest professional triumph, yet all he could focus on was the person standing before him—the one who had known him before success had hollowed him out.

"I should go," you said, but something in your voice suggested reluctance.

"Could we..." Jay began, then stopped. What right did he have to ask for anything? What could he possibly offer that would justify disrupting the life you'd built without him?

"Could we what?" you prompted when he didn't continue.

"Talk. Properly. Not here, not in a paddock with people around. Just... talk. Please."

You were quiet for so long that Jay began to think you'd refuse—and he couldn't blame you if you did. He'd forfeited any claim to your time or attention four years ago when he'd chosen career advancement over emotional connection.

"There's a café in Monaco-Ville," you said finally. "Le Petit Prince. Tomorrow morning, nine o'clock. I fly out at two."

The offer was small, limited, and hedged with practical constraints. But to Jay, it felt like salvation—a chance to explain, to apologize, to perhaps find some closure for the choice that had haunted him for four years.

"I'll be there," he said, the promise carrying more weight than any championship victory.

You nodded once, professionally polite, and walked away without looking back. Jay watched you go, feeling something stir in his chest that he hadn't experienced in four years—hope, fragile and tentative, but unmistakably real.

That night, in his championship celebration that felt more like a wake for the man he used to be, Jay declined invitations to exclusive parties and celebrity gatherings. Instead, he sat alone on his hotel balcony, championship medal forgotten on the table beside him, staring out at Monaco's harbor and thinking about tomorrow morning's conversation.

For the first time in four years, he felt something other than hollow accomplishment. It wasn't joy—not yet—but it was feeling, raw and real and potentially devastating. After so long numbing himself to emotion, the prospect of genuine human connection felt both terrifying and essential.

The sun rose over Monaco with typical Mediterranean beauty, painting the principality in shades of gold and promise. Jay arrived at Le Petit Prince thirty minutes early, choosing a corner table that offered privacy while still allowing him to watch for your arrival. His championship medal remained in his hotel room—today wasn't about professional achievements.

You arrived precisely at nine, punctual as always, looking effortlessly elegant in a way that made Jay's chest tight with memory and regret. You'd always moved with such purpose, such grace, and seeing you navigate the café's intimate space brought back countless memories of mornings they'd shared before his career consumed everything.

"Thank you for coming," Jay said as you settled across from him.

"I almost didn't," you admitted, and he appreciated your honesty. "I'm not sure what the point is, after all this time."

Jay had spent the night preparing for this conversation, rehearsing apologies and explanations that felt inadequate in the face of four years of separation. But sitting across from you now, seeing the wariness in your eyes mixed with something that might have been curiosity, he realized that prepared speeches wouldn't suffice.

"The point is that I owe you an apology," he said simply. "A real one, not the corporate-speak that's become my default language for everything."

You studied him over your coffee cup, and Jay felt exposed in a way he hadn't experienced since becoming a public figure. Your gaze had always been able to see through his carefully constructed facades, to find the person beneath the performance.

"You look different," you observed. "Older, obviously, but more than that. More... contained."

Contained. Another word that felt like a diagnosis rather than a description. "Four years of media training and public relations management," Jay said with bitter honesty. "I've become very good at saying the right things and feeling nothing while I say them."

"That sounds exhausting."

"It is. But it's also safe. Can't be disappointed if you don't invest emotionally. Can't be hurt if you don't care too deeply about anything."

You were quiet for a moment, processing his admission. "Is that what you tell yourself? That you don't care?"

The question cut straight to the heart of his carefully constructed defenses. "I tell myself a lot of things. That I made the right choice. That my career required complete focus. That emotional attachments were obstacles to overcome." He paused, gathering courage for complete honesty. "But mostly I tell myself that what we had wasn't real enough to justify the regret I feel every single day."

Your coffee cup clinked against the saucer as you set it down. "And do you believe that?"

"No," Jay said without hesitation. "What we had was the most real thing in my life. And I destroyed it because I was twenty-one and stupid and convinced that love was a luxury I couldn't afford."

The words hung between them, four years of buried truth finally spoken aloud. Jay felt simultaneously relieved and terrified—relieved to finally voice what he'd carried, terrified of how you might respond to his admission.

"You didn't just destroy it," you said quietly. "You destroyed me. For a while."

The confession hit Jay like a physical blow. He'd known, intellectually, that his decision had hurt you. But hearing you say it aloud, seeing the echo of old pain in your eyes, made the consequences of his choice devastatingly real.

"I'm sorry," he said, the words feeling inadequate but necessary. "I'm so sorry. I thought I was protecting you from the burden of dating someone whose career would always come first. I thought I was being noble."

"You were being a coward," you said, and the honesty of it stung because it was true. "You were scared of dividing your attention, scared of failing, scared of being vulnerable. So you made the choice for both of us without giving me the chance to decide for myself."

Jay nodded, accepting the accusation because it was accurate. "You're right. I was scared. Terrified, actually. The career was taking off so fast, and there was so much pressure, so many people depending on me. I couldn't see how to balance it all."

"So you chose not to try."

"I chose the sure thing over the uncertain one. Professional success over personal happiness. And I've regretted it every day since."

You were quiet for a long time, staring out the café window at Monaco's narrow streets. Jay waited, giving you space to process, to feel, to decide how much of yourself you were willing to invest in this conversation.

"I built a good life," you said finally. "After you. After the hurt faded enough to function again. I threw myself into work, traveled the world, covered amazing stories. I learned to be happy on my own."

"I'm glad," Jay said, and meant it despite the way your words made his chest ache. "You deserved that. You deserved so much better than what I gave you."

"The thing is," you continued, still looking out the window, "I never stopped caring about you. Following your career, watching your races when I could, feeling proud when you won and worried when you crashed. I told myself it was just lingering attachment, that it would fade with time."

Jay's breath caught. "And did it? Fade?"

You finally met his eyes, and he saw honesty there that made hope surge in his chest. "No. It never did. Which is why this conversation is so dangerous for me."

"Dangerous how?"

"Because seeing you yesterday, seeing how empty you looked even in your moment of triumph... it made me want to care again. Really care. And that terrifies me."

Jay leaned forward, encouraged by your admission but careful not to push too hard. "What if I told you that I don't want to be empty anymore? That winning the championship yesterday felt meaningless because I had no one who really mattered to share it with?"

"I'd say that's something you need to figure out for yourself, not something I can fix for you."

The response was measured, self-protective, entirely reasonable. And it made Jay realize how much emotional work he'd need to do, how much of himself he'd need to rebuild, before he could ask anyone else to invest in his healing.

"You're right," he admitted. "I can't ask you to fix what I broke in myself. But I can ask you to consider... whether there might be room in your life for someone who's finally ready to figure out how to be human again."

You studied him for a long moment, and Jay felt the weight of four years' worth of choices being evaluated. "What would that look like? You have a career that spans the globe, commitments that don't leave room for emotional complications. How would this time be different?"

It was the crucial question, the one that got to the heart of whether he'd learned anything from four years of hollow achievement. Jay had spent the night thinking about this, about what he could offer that would be different from the fear-driven choice he'd made before.

"It would be different because I finally understand what matters," he said. "Not the trophies or the fame or the perfect media image. The connections that make everything else worthwhile. The people who see you as more than your accomplishments."

"That sounds good in theory. But your life is still the same—travel, pressure, media obligations, sponsorship requirements. What happens when the reality of dating a public figure becomes difficult again?"

Jay had no easy answer for that, no guarantee that the practical challenges that had seemed so insurmountable at twenty-one wouldn't arise again. But he did have something he'd lacked four years ago: perspective.

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I can't promise it would be easy, or that I wouldn't make mistakes, or that my career wouldn't create complications. But I can promise that I wouldn't run from those challenges again. That I wouldn't make unilateral decisions about what's best for you without giving you a voice in the choice."

Your expression softened slightly, and Jay saw some of the wariness give way to something that might have been consideration. "You've grown up."

"Some. Not enough, probably, but some."

You glanced at your watch, and Jay felt time slipping away like sand through his fingers. "My flight..."

"I know. I'm not asking you to change your plans or make any decisions today. I'm just asking you to think about it. To consider whether what we had might be worth exploring again, with the maturity we didn't have before."

You stood, gathering your things with the same efficiency he remembered. But this time, the motion didn't feel like escape—it felt like thoughtful conclusion.

"I'll think about it," you said, and the promise felt like more than Jay had dared hope for.

"That's all I can ask for."

You paused at the table's edge, looking down at him with an expression he couldn't quite read. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you finally won the championship. Even if it didn't feel the way you expected."

"For what it's worth," Jay replied, "it would have meant everything if you'd been there to share it."

You smiled then—the first genuine smile he'd seen from you since your unexpected reunion. It transformed your face, reminding him of all the reasons he'd fallen in love with you before fear made him push you away.

"Take care, Jay," you said, but it didn't sound like a final farewell.

"You too," he replied, watching you walk away for the second time in two days, but this time with hope rather than regret.

Jay remained at the café long after you'd gone, processing the conversation and the possibilities it had opened. For the first time in four years, he felt something approaching peace—not because he'd fixed everything, but because he'd finally been honest about what he'd broken.

His phone buzzed with messages about championship celebrations, sponsor events, media appearances. The machinery of Formula 1 success demanded his attention, pulled him back toward the carefully managed life he'd constructed. But something fundamental had shifted during his conversation with you.

Jay began responding to messages with a different energy than he'd felt in years. Not the mechanical efficiency that had carried him through four seasons of emotional emptiness, but genuine engagement with the life he'd chosen. If he was going to rebuild himself into someone worthy of love—yours or anyone else's—he needed to start living authentically rather than just performing his own existence.

The championship celebration that night felt different. Jay still fulfilled his obligations, still smiled for photographs and gave interviews and posed with sponsors. But beneath the professional performance, he felt something he'd forgotten was possible—genuine engagement with his own life.

When team members asked about his plans for the off-season, Jay found himself talking about things beyond training regimens and sponsor obligations. Maybe he'd spend more time at home with his parents. Maybe he'd record music that meant something to him rather than just fulfilling contractual requirements. Maybe he'd learn to be a person again rather than just a brand.

"You seem different tonight," Sunghoon observed during a quiet moment between official festivities.

"Different how?" Jay asked, though he suspected he knew the answer.

"More present. Like you're actually here instead of just going through the motions."

Jay considered the observation, recognizing its accuracy. "I think I'm finally waking up."

"About time. We were starting to worry you'd forgotten how to be human."

The comment was delivered with typical teammate irreverence, but it carried genuine concern that Jay hadn't recognized until now. How many people had been worried about him while he'd been focused on maintaining his perfectly controlled facade?

As the evening progressed, Jay found himself actually enjoying aspects of the celebration rather than just enduring them. Conversations with team members revealed depths he'd missed during four years of professional distance. Interactions with media became opportunities for genuine expression rather than exercises in damage control.

But throughout it all, his thoughts returned to you—to the possibility you'd offered, the hope you'd allowed, the future that might exist if he could become someone worthy of it.

Three days later, Jay's phone rang while he was packing for the flight home to Seoul. Your name on the caller ID made his heart race in a way that had nothing to do with professional pressure and everything to do with human connection.

"Hello," he answered, trying to keep the hope out of his voice.

"Hi," you said, and he could hear something in your voice that hadn't been there during your café conversation—warmth, maybe, or possibility.

"How was your flight back?"

"Long. Really gave me a lot of time to think."

Jay's breath caught. "And?"

"And … I think maybe we're both different people than we were four years ago. Maybe different enough to try something new."

The words hit Jay like winning the championship should have—pure joy mixed with disbelief and the overwhelming sense that everything important was finally falling into place.

"Are … are you sure?" he asked, because he needed to know this wasn't pity or nostalgia driving your decision.

"No," you said honestly. "I'm not sure about anything. But I'm tired of living safe, and I think you might be too."

"I am. God, I am so tired of safe."

"So here's what I'm thinking," you continued, and Jay heard the smile in your voice. "I have three weeks of vacation coming up. I was planning to stay in New York, catch up on rest, and be boring. But there's this new World Champion I know who probably needs to learn how to celebrate properly."

"Is that so?"

"Mm-hmm. Word is he's forgotten how to have fun, how to be spontaneous, how to do anything that isn't carefully planned and media-approved."

Jay laughed—actually laughed—for the first time in years. "That sounds like someone who could use a good teacher."

"I happen to be available for consulting work. If he's interested."

"He's very interested. When do you want to start?"

"How about as soon as you get back to Seoul? I hear it's beautiful this time of year."

Jay closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the possibility spreading before him. Not just a romantic possibility, though that felt miraculous enough, but the chance to rebuild himself into someone capable of genuine connection again.

"I'll send you my address," he said.

"I'll book a flight."

After ending the call, Jay sat in his Monaco hotel room—the same room where he'd felt nothing but emptiness after achieving his greatest professional goal—and felt something he'd forgotten was possible. Not just happiness, but anticipation for a future that wasn't mapped out in sponsorship contracts and race calendars.

He looked at his championship medal sitting on the dresser, and for the first time, it felt like the beginning of something rather than the end. Not the culmination of everything he'd sacrificed for, but the foundation for everything he might still build.

Jay picked up his phone and began typing a message to his team, requesting a meeting about restructuring his schedule to allow for more personal time. Then he called his parents, hearing their surprise and delight when he asked about spending more time at home during the off-season.

For the first time in four years, Jay was planning a life instead of just managing a career.

The flight to Seoul felt different than any homecoming he'd experienced since becoming a professional driver. Usually, returns home were brief stops between races, quick visits squeezed into demanding schedules. This time, Jay found himself looking forward to arriving not because it represented rest between obligations, but because it represented the possibility of living rather than just existing.

Your flight was arriving two days after his, giving him time to prepare—not with the meticulous planning that characterized his professional life, but with the nervous excitement of someone anticipating something genuinely meaningful.

Jay spent those two days doing things he hadn't done in years: visiting his parents without a departure countdown, walking through Seoul's neighborhoods without security escorts, eating at small restaurants instead of perfectly curated dining experiences. Each activity felt like reclaiming pieces of himself he'd lost during his rise to championship level.

"You seem different," his mother observed over dinner at their family home.

"Good different or bad different?" Jay asked.

"Young different. Like you remember how to enjoy things instead of just accomplishing them."

The observation was more accurate than she probably realized. Jay had become so focused on achievement that he'd forgotten enjoyment was possible—not just the brief satisfaction of goals met, but genuine pleasure in experiences shared.

When Jay picked you up at Incheon Airport, he felt nervous in a way that had nothing to do with performance pressure and everything to do with human vulnerability. You emerged from customs looking slightly tired but unmistakably beautiful, and Jay felt his carefully rebuilt composure threatening to crumble.

"Hi," you said, and the simple greeting carried layers of meaning—acknowledgment of the risk you were both taking, appreciation for the chance to try again, anticipation for what might unfold.

"Hi," he replied, and then because words felt inadequate for what he was feeling, he simply hugged you.

The embrace lasted longer than politeness required and felt like coming home in a way his championship victory never had. When you finally separated, Jay saw something in your expression that matched what he felt—hope mixed with nervousness, excitement tempered by caution, but underneath it all, genuine affection that had survived four years of separation.

"So," you said as they walked toward his car, "what does a World Champion do with three weeks of vacation?"

"I have no idea," Jay admitted. "I've never taken three weeks of actual vacation. Usually it's just a few days between sponsor obligations and training requirements."

"Well then, we'll figure it out together. First lesson in being human again: spontaneity."

"I'm terrible at spontaneity."

"I know. That's why you need practice."

The following weeks unfolded like a gradual awakening. You challenged Jay to experience Seoul like a tourist rather than a returning celebrity, visiting markets and museums and cafés without itineraries or objectives beyond enjoyment. He rediscovered the pleasure of wandering without destination, of conversations that meandered through topics without strategic purpose, of laughter that came from genuine amusement rather than media-trained responses.

"You're getting better at this," you observed one afternoon as they sat by the Han River, watching people walk their dogs and play music and live their ordinary, extraordinary lives.

"At what?"

"Being present. Actually experiencing moments instead of just getting through them."

Jay considered the observation, recognizing its truth. For four years, he'd moved through life with efficient purpose, checking boxes and meeting obligations without actually inhabiting his experiences. But sitting beside you, watching Seoul's daily rhythms unfold around them, he felt anchored in the present moment in a way he'd forgotten was possible.

"I'd forgotten what this felt like," he admitted.

"What what felt like?"

"Contentment. Not achievement-based satisfaction or professional pride, just... contentment with where I am and who I'm with."

You were quiet for a moment, and Jay worried he'd said too much, pushed too hard into emotional territory you weren't ready to navigate. But when you spoke, your voice carried warmth rather than caution.

"I'd forgotten what it felt like to want to share experiences with someone specific. To see something beautiful and immediately think about how you'd react to it."

The admission felt like a gift, acknowledgment that the emotional connection they'd once shared was reasserting itself despite four years of separation and growth. Jay felt hope expanding in his chest—not the desperate hope of someone trying to reclaim the past, but the patient hope of someone building toward a future.

As their time together progressed, Jay found himself changing in ways that went beyond relaxation or temporary lifestyle adjustment. The mechanical precision that had defined his professional life began incorporating space for spontaneity. The emotional distance that had protected him from disappointment gave way to vulnerability that made joy possible.

You seemed to be undergoing your own transformation. The careful wariness that had characterized your early conversations dissolved into something approaching trust. Your professional competence remained intact, but it was now balanced by willingness to be silly, to take risks, to invest emotionally despite the potential for disappointment.

"I should probably start thinking about going back," you said one evening as they walked through Myeongdong, the statement feeling both practical and reluctant.

"Should you?" Jay asked, though he knew the answer. Your vacation time was ending, your professional life in New York required attention, and they couldn't exist indefinitely in the suspended reality of these three weeks.

"Work doesn't stop just because I'm having the best vacation of my adult life."

The qualification made Jay's heart race. "The best?"

"By far. Which is dangerous, because it makes me want to stay longer."

"Then stay longer."

"Jay..."

"I know it's complicated. I know you have a life in New York, responsibilities, commitments. But what if we figured out how to make this work long-term? What if distance doesn't have to mean ending this?"

You stopped walking, turning to face him fully. "What are you suggesting?"

"I don't know exactly. But I know I don't want this to end just because your vacation time is up. I know I want to find ways to see you, to talk to you, to be part of your life in whatever way works for both of us."

"Long-distance relationships are hard. Especially when one person travels the world professionally and the other has a demanding career in a different time zone."

"Hard, but not impossible. And maybe worth trying for something that feels this right."

You studied his face, and Jay saw you weighing possibilities against practicalities, hope against experience, the potential for happiness against the risk of repeated heartbreak.

"If we're going to try this," you said finally, "it has to be different from before. More communication, more honesty about difficulties when they arise, more commitment to working through problems instead of running from them."

"Yes," Jay said immediately. "All of that, yes."

"And you have to promise me that if it gets difficult—when it gets difficult—you won't make decisions for both of us again. We figure it out together or not at all."

"I promise. No more unilateral choices, no more protecting you from difficulties you should get to decide about for yourself."

You nodded slowly, and Jay saw resolution forming in your expression. "Okay then. Let's try to figure this out."

The kiss that followed felt like sealing a pact—not just romantic connection, but genuine partnership between two people who had learned enough about themselves and each other to attempt building something sustainable.

Your departure from Seoul was emotional but not devastating. The difference between goodbye and separation, between end and transition. Jay drove you to the airport with plans already forming for his visit to New York during the off-season break, for your potential attendance at selected races, for the Skype calls and text messages and small gestures that would maintain connection across distance.

"This feels different," you said as they stood in the departure terminal.

"Different how?"

"Like the beginning of something instead of the end. Like we're both choosing this instead of just hoping it works out."

Jay pulled you close, breathing in the scent that had become associated with contentment and possibility. "We are choosing this. Every day, we're going to choose this."

"Even when it's difficult?"

"Especially when it's difficult."

The months that followed tested that commitment in ways both expected and surprising. Time zones created complications, but they established communication rhythms that worked around their schedules. Media attention proved challenging when you attended your first race since their reunion, but Jay's newfound willingness to address questions about his personal life with honesty rather than deflection made the attention manageable rather than overwhelming.

Most importantly, when difficulties arose—and they did, because long-distance relationships involving public figures were inherently complicated—they talked through them rather than making assumptions or unilateral decisions. Each challenge became an opportunity to strengthen their partnership rather than a threat to it.

Jay's racing improved dramatically once he remembered how to invest emotionally in his life outside the cockpit. The mechanical precision remained, but it was now fueled by genuine passion rather than hollow dedication. He drove not just to win, but to share victories with someone who understood their significance.

You thrived in the balance between your independent career and shared relationship. Your work retained its excellence and ambition, but it was now complemented by emotional fulfillment that made everything else more vibrant rather than less focused.

Just a year after their reunion in Monaco, Jay won his second World Championship. But this time, when he climbed from his car in parc fermé, he felt the joy that had been missing from his first title. Not because the achievement itself was different, but because he had someone who mattered to share it with.

You were there in the media pen, officially covering the race for Vogue but personally invested in his success in ways that made every moment more meaningful. When your eyes met across the celebration chaos, Jay felt complete in a way that had nothing to do with trophies and everything to do with love.

Later, during the quieter moments after the official celebrations had ended, you found each other in Jay's driver's room. The space was filled with flowers and congratulations cards, but Jay's attention was entirely focused on you.

"So," you said, settling beside him on the small couch, "how does this championship feel different from the last one?"

"Like it actually matters," Jay said without hesitation. "Like it's worth celebrating because I have someone who understands what it cost and what it means."

"It was always worth celebrating, Jay. You just couldn't feel it before."

"No, I couldn't. But I can now. Because of you, because of us, because I finally remembered how to care about more than just achievement."

You leaned against him, and Jay marveled at how natural it felt—this combination of professional success and personal happiness, of individual achievement and shared joy.

"I'm proud of you," you said quietly. "Not just for winning, but for figuring out how to be human again."

"I had a good teacher."

"You did the work yourself. I just reminded you what was possible."

Jay pressed a kiss to the top of your head, breathing in the scent that now meant home regardless of which country they were in. "What's possible now? For us, I mean. What comes next?"

"I don't know," you admitted. "But I'm excited to figure it out together."

"Together," Jay repeated, the word carrying weight and promise and everything he'd learned about what really mattered.

Outside the driver's room, the Monaco circuit was winding down from another race weekend. But inside, two people who had found their way back to each other were planning a future that balanced ambition with love, success with humanity, achievement with connection.

Jay's championship medal sat on the table beside them, but this time it felt like what it should have always been—not the ultimate goal, but a milestone in a life rich with purpose and meaning and love.

For the first time since he'd started racing professionally, Park Jongseong felt like he was exactly where he belonged.

He had won back his own heart, and in doing so, had found his way home.  

EN—D

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — and another one hits the ground BOOM!! oh i love you jay … RAAAAAAA also i think this is my longest?! BRUH

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ check my new masterlist — and here's the legacy one!

the grid is hot. overhead, the sun beams down unrelentingly. people swarm across the track in waves, mechanics rush back and forth between cars as they ensure the perfect mechanics for the conditions. drivers wander back and forth, each burning off steam in their own way. 

jay sighs, though his body remains stiff. his gaze remains trained on the ground below as he paces around his driver’s room. you can all but see the way his nerves are eating him alive. racing came with a lot of pressure - his manager had done a great job of reminding him as much. jay almost doesn’t notice when you frown softly, taking a small step towards him. 

“relax,” you whisper. jay pauses only when you reach up, gingerly resting your hands against his shoulders. your fingertips trace against the faux leather on his outfit, gently beginning to massage at the tension in his shoulders. “you’ve got this.” 

jay’s eyes flutter shut. he takes a deep breath before rolling his shoulders, forcing some of the tension to ease away from his aching muscles. he had been up all night for days, working with his engineers to design and redesign the car, doing their best to account for all conditions in preparation for race day. it was rewarding - albeit exhausting - work. you understood, as always, waiting for him to come to you and only stepping in when he needed it most. 

“i love you,” you murmur. your hands feel cool against his flushed skin. you lean in, pressing a chaste kiss against his cheek. then the underside of his jaw. the mole just beneath his eye. the tip of his nose. he scrunches his face, then, laughing quietly despite himself. you smile brightly in return, shifting to wrap your arms around his neck. 

“you’re incredible,” jay murmurs. his arms snake around your waist, pulling you closer. his fingertips slip just beneath the hem of your t-shirt, dancing against your bare skin. his touch makes you shiver, and in turn, makes jay smirk. he leans in, so close that his breath ghosts against your lips. his dark eyes bore into your own, the color of honey in the sunlight. “i don’t know how you do it.” 

“it’s just my charm,” you say. jay laughs at that, shaking his head softly. you thread your fingers through his hair, playing with the strands at the nape of his neck. jay follows your lead, allowing you to gently coax him downwards and finally meeting your lips against his own in a sweet kiss. 

he all but melts into you, chapped lips dancing against your own like it’s all he knows. his grip tightens around your waist ever so slightly. you sigh against his lips and he responds in kind, running his tongue against your bottom lip. he dances on the line of a french kiss.

you’re all but panting when he finally pulls away, flushed skin and sweet smile mirroring your own. finally, you take a small step backwards, playfully pushing him away from your body and towards the door. “now, go win.” 

jay smiles brightly. he presses a kiss against your knuckles before letting your hand slip away. “i always do.” 

notes: please leave feedback if you enjoyed!! big shoutout to jay for getting me into f1, author has questionable racing knowledge, not entirely happy with how this turned out but this idea was eating me alive i needed to write it down somehow, might do a series on f1!aus, title from rihanna - shut up and drive

Despite being a socialite Choi Y/N are, she has trust issues towards everybody excluding her family and Jay. Thus, that is the reason why every party Y/N goes to, Jay must follow along at least if she got wasted, she knows Jay will take care of her, it's like unspoken rules of them.

Entering a huge mansion with a light heart, you made your way to the crowded girls in the corner of the mansion while Jay never take his eyes off of you until he was sure that you is safe with your so called friend. Jay made his way straight to his group of friends, doing their made-up handshake every time they see each other. Heeseung hands out a glass of wine to Jay which the highlighted-hair man simply shrugs off.

"Babysitting again?" Jake asked, smirking when Jay nods as answer

"She knows how to take care of herself, this is not the first time she went to a big party as this" Sunghoon complained, he felt sorry for his friend not being able to enjoy a fun party and get wasted just because of one girl that doesn't have any special relationship with him other than a friend.

"Dude, we talk about this..." Jay trailed off, sighing as he doesn't like when Y/N's topic came out, he already stated that he was not a big fan of wild parties, he rather attends a formal party wherein all of the businessmen discuss business stuff which his friends found him boring.

"I know, I'm just saying" Sunghoon playfully tapped Jay's arm.

All of his friends chatter slowly faded away as Jay's sharp eyes searched for you, he squint as he saw you talking with a guy while having a glass of alcohol in your hand, quickly he advance to you and his hand softly grabbed onto your hands and pulling you away from the clueless male.

"Jay what the hell?" you questioned, you arch your eyebrow at him finding his 'over protective' annoying nevertheless, he is the only person you could trust.

"He's a drug dealer and what we talk about having a conversation with a stranger while holding drinks?" he crossed his arms, acting like a mom making you scoff and roll your eyes.

"Jay, how he can put drugs in my drink if I was right in front of him?" you argued

"Do you really want to argue about this Y/N?" he uttered, he glowered at her furiously.

"Fine! I'm gonna be careful and how do you—"

"Heeseung" Jay reply shortly and leave her alone heading to nowhere. Jay was indeed irritated at the sight of you being with another male, as he went through puberty, he realized he likes you not as a friend but as a girl— at first, he denied his feelings since he doesn't want your friendship going downhill but he couldn't anymore, everything about you brings joy to him and he did not want to lose that, he thought one side love is better although it hurts.

You on the other side have no intention of being in a relationship. For you being in a relationship is too much at your age plus you didn't trust anyone to be your partner since they all stuck with you because of your fame and money.

Reaching the balcony of the mansion, Jay took his vape out from his pocket and quickly draw the vapor directly to his lungs. He shuts his eyes tight, trying to control his bitterness and jealousy, he doesn't want to control your life being toxic to you is the last thing he would do to you. The cotton candy vape flavor succeeds to calm his mind. He sighs and sees Heeseung already found a girl for tonight as both of them make out in front of the swimming pool. He clicks his tongue, it would be such a euphoria if it's were you and him.

You sway your hips rhythmically to the beat music, giggling to the person beside you although there's no conversation going on between the two of you. You could feel your body loosen up while you were jumping and screaming among the crowds. Unnoticed by you, the man you just talked about hours ago, slowly approached you with a brand new glass of alcohol in his hand, using his other hand he back hugged and kiss you on the cheek.

"Hey" you groan, wipe your cheek that has been kissed earlier

"Here drink this" he offers, handing you the glass.

"Sorry dude, she has to go" like Deja vu, Jay appears between the two of you and brings you away from the creepy guy that obviously has bad intentions towards you.

"Jay my legs hurt" you uttered, removing your hands from Jay's grip and massaging your calf, your legs sore from standing and dancing for hours in heels.

"Wear this" Jay offers, he almost takes off his Prada boots without hesitation to give them to you.

"No, can you just carry me instead? I don't have the energy to walk" you told him.

Without any words spoken, he piggybacks you to the car, carefully he place you down and open the door for you seeing you dozing off, Jay caressing your hair with a small smile appears on his lips

"Good night Y/N"

The next morning, you wake up with a massive headache and dry throat not to mention both of your legs are still sore from yesterday's incident. You turn your head to the side, finding a glass of water with ibuprofen on the bedside table. You quickly took the pill and lean on your headboards, relaxing. The sound of the doorknob being twisted successfully gained your attention, you sigh as you saw Jay enter your room with hot soup to cure your hangover.

"Jay–"

"You knows my answer Y/N" Jay cut you off making you groan.

The fact that every time you wake up with a hangover, he will skip his class just to cook you soup and take care of you, at first you find it cute and sweet but as the time passed, you felt sorry for him since he will miss his lesson, Jay is the top student in business faculty and you don't like the image of he skipped class because of his friend was too drunk yesterday.

"Jay seriously, you need to stop. I have maids they can take care of me" you said, looking him in the eyes to let him know you don't want this to continue anymore

"Y/N–"

"Jay. You are not at that place to take care of me if anything happens, you're just my friend and I'm thankful every time you make sure I get home safely, but you also have your life too. So stop all of this and attend your class, okay?"

And with that, you left. Leaving him alone in your large bedroom. Jay let out a small sigh, the word friend that came out from his mouth really hurt him. Sometimes he wonders did you put a blind eye on everything he does for you? Did you have no idea how much he care about you?

Maybe it's his fault skipped classes just to take care of you, but he couldn't help himself when he can't focus in his class knowing you will wake up with massive headaches and pain all over your body, he needs to make sure you all right. For a while, he reflects on himself, he tries to understand you— you must felt uncomfortable when he skipped classes, he would be the same if he's in your place, he cursed to himself, the last thing he wants is to make you uncomfortable around him.

Jay realizes there's something that isn't good going on around the campus since he parked his car. Almost every person in the hallway whispering to themselves and staring at him. Jay felt hyperventilation with all the unpleasant stares pointed at him. As soon as he saw Heeseung, Sunghoon, and Jake he fasten his pace towards his friends.

"Dude, what happened?" Jay asked only to receive confused looks from his friends

"Jay you've been gone like a week! We supposed to ask you what happened!" Jake asked

"Oh, I forget to inform, that I went to America with my father for a business trip" Jay answered, but he still felt this isn't the reason why he got creepy stares in the hallway.

"You didn't contact Y/N for a week?" Heeseung asked making Jay froze in his place.

After your 'argument' last week, both of you didn't contact each other since Jay need to clear his thought, and maybe you need some time alone. It's always been like that if you and Jay get into an argument.

"Did something happens to her?" Jay asked, grabbing Heeseung's shoulder firmly

"Look at this" Sunghoon said, showing the worried guy an article that has been circulated rapidly and widely on the internet.

Jay's eyes widen reading the title of the article

Choi Hyunsoo charged with foreign bribery

Without sparing another word towards his friends, Jay hurriedly drove back to your house, he gritted his teeth seeing reporters from every news company swarming in front of your house, there's no way to get in there without getting noticed. Jay spins the wheel, driving to your back of the house instead.

Jay casually enters your house since all the people in the house know him. He runs towards your room, groaning as it's locked from the inside, softly he knocks on the wooden door.

"Y/n" he called yet no answer from you. He licks his lips, worried if you might do something outta control, knowing you, you can't control your emotions when you're mad and Jay is the only person who is always beside you to make sure you don't do anything crazy.

"Y/N, I'm sorry to be there for you... Could you please open the door?" he pleaded, once again knocking on your door. From inside, you could hear him well your tears streamed down your face and hide your face between your knees. You're not mad at him, how could you when he doesn't know a single thing about your dad's company. Right after your dad was arrested by police, a swarm of reporters crowded your house for live updates.

You are afraid if your life will change after this, people will cancel you and you will end up alone like a loser. It's verifiable the only person you trust in the world is Jay but you also hate the idea of being alone.

"Y/N" you snapped out from your thoughts seeing your locked door now open widely and you saw Jay's handsome face after a while, behind him your mom holding the spare key of your room.

You lay on your soft mattress and cover your red and swollen face using a pillow. Jay looks at your mom and sighs. He takes a seat at the corner of your bed.

"Y/N get up you have to eat something," Jay said

Seeing you lying still and didn't even bother to reply to Jay's making the guy upset at himself, he shouldn't go on the business trip.

"Y/N at least freshen up yourself, we're gonna go to grandma's house after this" your mom announced

You immediately get up and shook your head.

"Please I don't want to stay on grandma's" you pleaded to your mom. You realized you can't stay here alone either, the reporters or journalists out there are quite determined to get live updates from your family, it's not surprising if they break in your house.

"We don't have anywhere to go sweetie" your mom said. You grab Jay's hand

"You can stay at my house Y/N" Jay said. You look at him, unsure to follow him back home but at the same time, you don't want to go to your grandma's house. It's another definition of hell. Your grandma is always strict with you and she is unhappy with how you are behaving, partying everywhere, and the way you style your outfit– seeing you in crop top and ripped jeans could make her smoldering.

But on second thought the last place you want to visit is your grandma's house and it's better to stay in the Park's.

"Okay"

The night at the Park was so awkward for you although you know them since you were a kid, however, they make sure that you are comfortable and reassure you everything gonna be fine making you thankful for them.

You slowly get out of Jay's car, clenching on the strap of your tote bag. You could feel all eyes on you, whispering something about yesterday's news. Jay noticed all the judging looks she's received. Before he could do anything else a group of reporters surrounded her, throwing questions related to her dad and the company. This is getting overwhelming for you, sure you love attention but not this kind of attention you were on the verge of tears seeing all reporters harshly pushing themselves to get your attention.

"Get fucking out from here!" Jay yelled, pushing all the reporters that blocking their way. Your hands naturally grasp tightly around Jay's hand, afraid if one of them pushes you hard and makes you fall.

Both of you enter the university safely, luckily the guard helps you and Jay, or else both of you didn't make it to the university.

"Hey, it's alright we're safe now" Jay whispered while cupping your cheeks with his palm. You are shaking and scared from the earlier incident but when Jay decides to wrap his arm around your torso you could feel yourself relax in his embrace.

"As long as you with me, I swear no one could hurt you Y/N" he stated.

Jay taps on his steering wheel, he thought you were already home since there's no trace of you at the university, nevertheless when his mother informed him you're not at home yet making him worried sick. Where could you have been? There's a bunch of reporters searching for you and your family.

Jay tried to call you yet he got the same operator's voice as answers. Feeling frustrated, he threw his phone to the next passenger seat.

Jay drove for the next hour, searching for you. He could go insane any second by now if he didn't find you. The car stopped at the red light, he leans on the seat relaxing his mind, remembering all of the places you love to go which surprisingly work, it felt like in the cartoon where there's a bulb flickered on his head when the character got an idea.

He immediately drives to the only place you love to go if you're emotionally unstable.

Jay smiles seeing your figure sitting on the bench while staring at the beach. He turns off his engine and walks towards you, sitting next to you and handing you your favorite drink he bought from a cafe nearby.

Hesitantly, you grab the cold drink put the plastic cup beside you, and continue staring at the empty beach. Jay pursed his lip together, seeing you in this state broke him.

"I'm gonna break the person legs that accuse my father!" you speak up, clenching your fist tight till your palm marked by your long nails

"Looks like I'm gonna search for a good lawyer now" Jay joked. You glared at him, didn't find his joke funny in any way. Jay noticed your glare quickly mouthing 'sorry' before he become your next victim of anger.

"I hate everyone" you wailed, hiding your face between your knees. You are used to running away from everything but this time you can't it's like you are stuck in the middle.

Jay rubbed your back softly, he bring himself close to you and pulls you into a hug.

"Life can be hard, but you can get through it. You're Y/N after all"

"Everyone hates me. They turn their back at me like I'm a criminal! Why does everyone only look at me when I'm at my highest?" you sobbed. This is one of the reasons why Jay is the only person you trust but since you are love being the center of attention and people look up to you the aftermath of your dad's scandal broke you into pieces.

"Not everyone hates you Y/N... I'm here for you. I'm always here for you" Jay whispered to your ears. He is true, he is always there for you no matter what. Sometimes you felt unfair since you have always been the main topic of your friendship, you rarely ask about him. As you blink, tears fall to your cheek, you just realized how bad a friend you are towards Jay yet he still sticks around you.

"Why are you doing this to me?" you asked, looking up at him with glassy eyes.

Jay looks down just to meet your slightly red face with your teary eyes he felt like he's been hypnotized by your beauty as he seems didn't notice the words he let out from his mouth

"Because I like you"

"Jay..." you trailed off, making him realize what he has done. He slowly looks at you, your face filled with questions yet you decide to keep your mouth shut for now.

"I really like you a lot Y/N" the damage has been done, he also can't bear keeping his feeling for you a secret for so long, now or never he needs to tell the truth.

You remove his arms around your torso and stare back at the beach. You wonder how he falls for a girl like you? You always assume Jay's type will be someone who's graceful and successful in their studies and future. You are nothing compared to Jay's type you've been imagined. It seems bizarre to you.

"It has always been you Y/N. I don't need a reason for liking you it just came naturally. One day I woke up and I don't want you to be in anybody arms but me– now why did that's sound so possessive"

You scoff at the end of a sentence amazed at how he still could pull off a joke in this kind of situation.

"Jay I don't have the answer—"

"It's fine Y/N. I will always wait for you"

For a whole month, you fight with your feelings. after the sudden confession, you starting to feel shy around him. You weren't sure why your mind act like them around him. Did you start to like Jay sincerely or did you force your heart to accept him because of his confession, since you hate seeing him sad?

You have no idea at all and it makes your head spin.

"Y/N" Jay's mother knocks on your door making you snap from your thoughts.

"Yes, Ms. Park"

She takes a seat beside you, showing you text messages between her and your mother, you read the conversation and whine. Why did your grandma want to see you?

"Y/N I know you're not comfortable around your grandma, but it's for one night honey" Jay's mom assures you while tapping on your tight.

"I'm not in the mood to hear her rambling about my too revealing outfit and social life" you groaned

Jay's mom chuckles and escorts you to her wardrobe room, as soon as she opens the door, you gasped seeing her vintage collection. You're not a fan of vintage but this is cool.

"You can take one of these to wear to your grandma's house" she offered, you look at her with wide eyes making sure she isn't joking. Seeing his motherly smile confirmed to you that she's not joking

"Woah Ms.Park this is so pretty I admit but I don't have any idea how to style myself like an 80s girl" you blurted earning a soft chuckle from the old woman.

"That is the last thing you need to worry about! I'm here to help you"

You knock on your grandma's door, biting your lips as you suddenly feel nervous, it's not like you are uncomfortable in the outfit that Jay's mom styled for you it's just you're hoping your mom or your grandma won't make a big deal out of it.

After a few seconds of waiting, finally, the door creaks open showing your mom. She quickly pulls you inside, afraid if there's a reporter that has been following you.

"Oh my God Y/N I'm so worried about you sweetheart" your mother pulled you into a tight hug making you suffocated.

"Mom let go of me I can't breath" you slowly push your mother away. She grinned at you before kissing your forehead. This time, she looks at your outfit, surprised as she doesn't see ripped jeans or tank tops on you but a vintage jacket with straight-cut jeans.

"You looks so feminine today" your mother said

"You know the reason mom" you said, lumbering towards the dining room. Your eyes meet your grandma's awkwardly you smile at her and take a seat beside her.

"You should wear this more often" you sigh as you heard the first words that your grandma's uttered to you.

Soon, your mother comes to the dining table with chocolate cake on the table. She knows both of you love chocolate cake that's why she bought it.

That night the only the sound of fork and spoon clanging echoed across the room. Your mother finishes her food as fast as she could, you know she wants you to bond with her mother since the two of you didn't click well.

"I'm gonna go, I have to contact the lawyer," your mom said and leave the dining room. You let out a small sigh, you still battling about your feelings to Jay.

"You look anxious tonight" your grandma stated, cutting the cake into slices and put into a small plate, she casually give you the nice slice of chocolate cake

You bit inside of your cheeks, wondering if you should talk to your grandma or not, it may be awkward since you're not close with your grandma but she has more experience with love and life.

"Grandma..." you called her, your voice almost coming out like a whisper luckily her hearing is still good.

"You remember Jay?" you asked

Your grandma nods her head, there's no way he could forget Jay, the only person you always stick around with all the time.

“He is always there for me, I never realized it until now, and if we take our relationship to the next level and everything will goes down hills, I will lose him forever. I'm afraid if we both hurt each other" you murmured. It feels unreal you spoke more than three words to your grandma.

She scoffs and grabs your hand, caressing your soft hand for the first time after many years giving each other cold shoulder.

"Every choice that you made has a risk, even you think about it wisely. So don't think much about all of the negative things if you like him, shoot your shot. You don't even know if you try, enjoy the present with him if both of you are happy none of you will worry about future"

The realization hits you as cold waters slap against your cheek, you are too worried about the future and focus on negative things instead of positive ones. You grab your grandma's hand and place a kiss on it before running towards the main door, you decide to not make the poor boy wait on you for too long.

Luckily your grandma's driver sends you back to Jay's home or you will be surrounded by reporters again. You told him to drop you off at the basketball court– near Jay's house, you know his routine, around this time he spends his time with his friends at the basketball court.

You thanked the driver, a giggle escaping from your mouth as you didn't have to spare time to search for Jay, you are used to his figure and from a far away you already noticed him.

You run towards him, yelling his name making him raise both of his eyebrows at you. He thought you have dinner with your grandma's?

Without words, you hug him tightly. For the first time, you think you did the right thing.

"Y/N, I'm sweaty–"

"Shut up Jay. Give me a second" you said. He looks up to his friends, signaling them to play without him first. Jay's hand naturally on your back, his hand taps on your back, the thing he usually does if he wants to comfort you.

"What did your grandma say this time?" he asked

You grinned and remove yourself from him. You laughed looking at his confused face

"Grandma said that I should shoot my shot" You exclaimed

He still doesn't get what you try to imply so he just raises his brow at you.

"I like you too, silly" you said. You laughed as you saw his cheeks slightly burn because of your confession.

Jay immediately pulls you into a hug and spins you around making you squeal. You have no idea how much he waiting for your answer! Each day feels like torture for him!

"I'm sorry for making you wait for a long time" you pout

you heard the voice from behind you and managed to leap to your side to avoid the spell just in time, letting the red light instead hit the wall in front of you. you turned around, and instantly noticed the death eater who was standing many meters away, his wand by his head and ready to strike. “petrificus totalus!”

“protego!”

the beams shooting from his wand met the shield yours had produced, blocking it and letting its light die out. closing the distance between you, he lunged forwards and kept casting a variety of spells, which you, with great difficulty, blocked. you couldn’t hold your protection much longer, it was getting too tough - so instead, you turned around and made a run for it. a green beam of light missed your head by only a few centimeters, as you turned around a corner and kept running. you knew he was following you, and you knew you couldn’t keep this up; just as he rounded the corner, you pointed your wand to the roof above of him. “bombarda maxima!” you tried your best to keep your voice as steady and strong as possible, despite your wild nerves. the spell worked; soon, the death eater lay buried underneath the heavy stones that had just fallen.

you let out a sigh as you determined that he wasn’t going to rise, but you remembered to not let down your guard. there were perhaps hundreds of others inside and around the castle, and you knew from this little incident that they weren’t afraid to attack. so as you ran ahead, on towards the great hall where you hoped to find the people you were looking for, it was with your wand raised high and your eyes listening for every small sound in your vicinity.

you had been taken aback at first when that death eater had arrived; you hadn’t expected to meet anyone the moment you stepped out of the room of requirement. you thought everyone ought to be in the great hall, or perhaps outside of the castle - not lurking around on the top floors of the building. but none of that was what was going through your mind at the moment. you were focused on finding-

“jake, watch out!” you could recognize his voice from miles away, and especially when he was calling out for his best friend, but you don’t think you’ve ever heard such desperation in his voice ever before. at the end of the hallway, you spotted him - jay’s wand was shooting rays of all colors as he leaped forward, shooting down the woman in black, long robes who had just a second ago had a good grip around jake’s neck. she lay still on the floor, and for a few moments the boys stand as if frozen, until jake crouches down next to her and declares that she’s still alive, just fainted, to which both boys seem to calm down for a second. that is, until a scream is heard from a bit away, and the both of them run to where it came from, out of sight from you.

you were surprised that you had stopped in your tracks to watch the scene ahead of you, and you shake yourself before starting to run forwards again. reaching the end of the hallway, you turn to the way jay and jake had just gone. through the big entrance to the great hall, your eyes scanned over your two friends who were helping a ravenclaw girl, who you recognized to have been in your charms last year, fight off two death eaters. sprinting towards them, you watched as the girl, who you now remembered is called yewon, got hit by a spell right in the stomach, launching her into the wall behind her with great force.

as the wizard cheered his own accomplishment and was left unfocused on the other students, jake used the opportunity to strike. “expelliarmus!” he yelled, and the death eater’s wand flew out of his grip and onto the floor, close to where jay was currently standing, fighting the other death eater. as jake stunned the wandless wizard, jay did something he shouldn’t have - he bowed down to pick up the wand from the floor, but in that exact moment, the witch in front of him aimed towards him and was surely about to jinx him-

“levicorpus!” you yelled with all your might, now only standing a few meters away from them both, and the witch too dropped her wand, now hanging in the air upside down. 

jay turned his head to where your voice had come from, and his jaw dropped once he saw your face. “y/n?!”

“petrificus totalus.” the witch now dropped down onto the floor, head first, and you almost felt bad for her for a moment before you started thinking about what she could’ve done to jay if you hadn’t jumped in.

“what are you doing here?” jay exclaimed, coming closer to you. “are you completely crazy?”

“a small 'thanks' would’ve been nice,” you scoffed, and before he had the opportunity to say anything else, you turned your head to where your former classmate had crashed into the wall, and spoke again. “yewon? are you still there?”

you didn’t hear an answer, and you ran over to where you suspected she was - and she was right by the wall, lying on the floor and sobbing as she held an arm to her chest.

“hey, are you alright?” you crouched down next to her, placing a hand on her trembling shoulder.

“my arm...” she managed to get out in-between sobs. “it hurts...”

when you looked at it, it wasn’t bleeding nor did it have any visible curses on the skin. you turned your head around to jake, who was now standing behind you. “do you think it’s broken?”

“likely. with that force, i’m surprised more isn’t,” he said, and you nodded agreeingly, pulling out your wand and tapping it to her forearm.

“brackium emendo.”

yewon gave out another cry, but this time it wasn't out of pain. “thank you! thank you so much-”

“y/n,” you heard jay’s stern voice from behind you and you turned around once again. his arms were crossed over his chest, and if you had been anyone else, you likely would’ve crumbled under his gaze. but you couldn’t, not now, there were much more important things to do, people were still screaming on the other side of the castle walls and- “please, can’t we talk?”

you stood up, dusting off your knees with your hands before speaking to jake. “make sure she’s okay, please? and pick up that witch’s wand from the floor, and make sure neither of the death eaters get up.” jake nodded at you, flashing you a small smile, before you walked over to where jay was now standing, two tables away from the others.

the great hall was completely empty now, except for the four of you and the two stunned death eaters, and the atmosphere was almost tranquil, even though there was a full-on war going on just a small distance away.

“what are you doing here?” he asked, the desperation clear in his voice. “i thought they made it clear that-”

“i didn’t get to choose what i wanted to do, i was just forced into the room of requirement like everyone else, and-” you took a deep breath. “of course, i escaped. did you really expect me to just follow the others?”

“yes, because you’re underage, y/n!”

“by two months,” you spat, having a hard time controlling your anger at jay’s stubbornness. “i’m two months too young to fight? that doesn’t make any sense, you know i’m better at charms than most of your classmates!”

he shook his head, his eyes wandering around the room. “they were the rules, y/n. i can’t believe you-”

“can’t believe what? that i would want to fight for my school? fight for my friends? fight for this world to not go under-” you let a few tears fall down your cheeks, and you weren’t sure if it was out of exhaustion, frustration, or despair; likely a combination of them all. but you didn’t bother wiping them away. “fight for you. did you expect that i would just sit at home, just hoping that my friends, family, and boyfriend would all survive? not knowing anything and not being able to affect it would’ve killed me, i think you know-”

you were cut off as he pushed his lips onto yours. your eyes fluttered closed instinctively, and your hand that wasn’t currently holding your wand went up to cup his cheek. he tasted of blood from a small cut on his bottom lip and you tasted of salt from your tears, but neither of you minded. kissing jay felt so familiar; it felt like you were home again. it felt like you were back in your common room with him like you’d been a year ago, when no war had been going on and no dark lord was preparing for his final battle. jay’s lips smoothed over yours with such ease and such softness that if you hadn’t been standing, you could’ve fallen asleep from it.

“hey guys,” jake’s voice made you jump into reality again, and you moved your hand from jay’s cheek to his chest to push him away from you far enough for your lips to part from his again. “i hate to be the one to interrupt your moment, but uh... we should really get going.”

you nodded towards him, before looking back over at jay again, who did not look like he had wanted to stop his previous actions, a tiny pout on his lips. now that you were standing so close to him, you could study his face; there were several smaller wounds all over it, and he winced slightly when you reached up to remove a small piece of glass that had been stuck in a cut below his right eye. you used your thumb to wipe away the blood which had leaked down from a bigger wound by his jaw. “episkey,” you whispered, watching as the skin melted together and soon looked as if nothing had ever happened to it.

there was a loud bang, and the glass of the windows behind the staff table shattered everywhere - and in through the hole ran at least a dozen new death eaters, followed by students, teachers, parents, and other adults who were fighting for your side. and amongst them, you spotted none other than your brother - sunghoon was dueling a death eater, whom you’d seen before in the newspapers, all alone, but as he struck the other wizard with a jinx that seemed to have an extreme force, the death eater flew and slammed into a wall just like yewon had done.

in the few moments that you had stood watching your brother, the people around you hadn’t stopped like you, but instead started helping out in battles. you instantly joined jay’s side again, helping him battle a tall and broad man whose wand was producing beams of light at a faster speed than you had ever seen before. “incarcerous!” jay roared, and ropes appeared out of thin air which wrapped around the death eater and held his limbs tightly together.

“good one,” you told him, and turned around to find someone else to help - but standing right behind you was none other than sunghoon. 

“jay, are you dumb?!” he screamed at the boy standing next to you. beads of sweat were rolling down his face and his dark eyes made him look of a mixture between exasperated and exhausted. “forcing my baby sister into a war?!”

“he didn’t force me, you idiot!” you frowned up at him, groaning. “i chose it myself. and what part of me is baby, sunghoon? i’m almost of age, start treating me like it!”

“either way, you can’t be here! you have to get back to the room of requirement!”

you shook your head and took a step closer to him. “in case you haven’t noticed, they’re fighting in here. if we don’t help out soon, we will all be dead. i’d rather die helping out than die arguing about this!”

you walked past him and raised your wand, ready to strike at a witch jake was taking on at the moment, but sunghoon grabbed your arm and pulled you back. you were about to shake him off and complain when he pulled you into a hug. holding you close, he muttered, “i can’t lose you. please, please, take care. never battle alone.” you squeezed him back and nodded into his chest, before pulling away from him. you heard how he told jay to protect you, and the two of them were just about to hug when a red light missed the tops of their heads by just a few centimeters, almost as if it was a signal that you all needed to get back to the war.

you and jay took on one death eater each, throwing spells and shooting colored jets through the air as quickly as you could. but after stunning your opponent, and helping jay do the same to his, you overlooked the room and realized just how many people there were. it was extremely crowded, with injured people crying for help while lying on the floor and voldemort’s helpers assaulting other wizards and witches with both their wands and their bodies. it was overwhelming, there were too many of them, how would you ever win this? your breath became uneven, and you felt like you weren’t getting any air. your head was spinning, and the ground felt like it was shaking below you - it likely was, to be honest - and you couldn’t stay in your place a second longer.

you turned around slowly, before moving towards the opening of the main hall and looked for the best place to go. to your left, your defense against the dark arts teacher was fighting two robed, tall men all by himself, though he seemed to have no problem doing so; to your right, the hallway was empty, so that’s where you went. you found a hole in the wall a bit away, and you could almost hear the fresh air of the night calling for you, so you climbed out through it. instantly, your lungs were filled with the cold air, making you close your eyes in satisfaction and sit down on the ground, relaxing fully. you instantly felt better, and you felt like you wouldn’t have to be out here for a lot longer before you could back inside, just-

“look at who we have here,” said a female voice from beside you, and you opened your eyes and flew up to stand on the stone debris from what had formerly been the wall. you recognized her instantly - she was one of voldemort’s most faithful followers, and you had read about her and her escape from azkaban in the newspapers before. “isn’t it the little mudblood who’s been helping lee heeseung in his plans against the dark lord?” you raised your wand to attack, but she was quicker. “expelliarmus!” your wand flew up into the air and landed right by her feet. you didn’t even bother trying to fetch it, you knew it would be to no avail. “tell me where the boy is hiding, and i shall spare your life.”

“i don’t know!” you cried out.

she raised her eyebrows. “hmm. maybe this will make you remember. crucio!”

you had never experienced pain like this in your life. you crashed down onto the ground, unable to control anything in your body. the pain was obliterating, intense, all-consuming. you screamed, but you couldn’t hear yourself, all your senses being dulled out by the pain. 

and suddenly, she broke off the curse, though your muscles were still throbbing from the curse. “do you know where he is now, then?” she sneered.

“no-” just as you had managed to whimperingly utter the word, she flicked her wand once again. the second hit of the spell felt a lot like the first, but this time she held it for much longer. your bones were on fire, a million knives were pushing into your skin, boiling water was being poured over your body, your head was about to explode-

the relief you felt when she stopped the curse for the second time was indescribable. high-pitched, horrifying laughs were flowing from the death eater’s mouth before she once again spoke. “i think you know now.”

you wanted to slap the grin off her dark lips, but you had no energy to even stand up. instead, you gathered your last bits of power, and said, “i don’t. and even if i had known, i wouldn’t have told you.”

she chuckled, before shaking her head at you. “you silly girl... you deserve this.”

the third time the spell hit you, it was much worse than the other two times; she must’ve gone extremely angry by now. it felt as if you were in space, there was no air for you to breathe. your lungs weren’t working properly. you wished to do anything to make this extreme pain go away, anything... even disappear or... die...

though it had felt like an eternity for you, there were only a few moments after she’d cursed you that the curse was interrupted once again. you couldn’t even look up; you were curled into a ball on the ground, eyes shut tight, wishing that everything would just be over...

soon, there was a shuffle beside you, and soon a hand lay on your shoulder, shaking it gently. “y/n? are you alive? please, be alive...”

by now, you were just barely breathing; it was too hard, it took too much energy from you and you already had very little left.

“hey, it’s all fine now,” a voice told you, as a hand caressed your cheek. “she’s gone. you’ll be fine. please, just-” the voice paused, and when it returned, you could tell that the person by you had turned around and was now yelling towards the entrance of the castle. “jake! get some water, quick!”

you were too exhausted to listen clearly to his voice and try to recognize it, but from his wording, you could easily tell who it was. slowly, you opened your eyes, looking up at jay who sat crouched next to you. he had more bruises and wounds all over his face now than he had had when you had left him, and he was looking down at you with eyes of such panic that you’d never seen before. “fuck, y/n,” he mumbled. “you can’t just go off like that. do you realize how-”

he stopped in his tracks when you reached up with a hand to thread your fingers through his hair, pushing his fringe back and out of his eyes. “i’m fine.”

“a-are you sure?”

you nodded slowly at him, closing your eyes once again and letting your arm fall to your side. “i just need to...rest a bit...” jay let out a sigh of relief, and his hand went from your shoulder and up to your face, letting his thumb wipe away a few tears that you hadn’t noticed shedding. “what happened to her?” you hummed, voice low.

“oh, you didn’t hear it?” you furrowed your eyebrows. “i stunned her at first, but then voldemort spoke over the grounds and told his forces to retreat, to give us one hour to treat to everyone’s wounds and to say our goodbyes to those who are leaving us. he said that heeseung has an hour to give himself in, or else the war is on again.” 

you were surprised that you hadn't heard voldemort's voice, but then again, you even now had to put in all your force to hear jay properly. you looked up at him. “he’s not going to, is he?” you questioned, to which jay merely shrugged. “he can’t, that’s-”

“y/n, are you okay?! someone told me what happened,” said jake as he came up to you two, an empty plastic bottle in his hand. “i only found this, it’s empty, i know, but i mean you can always-”

“aguamenti,” jay said to cut off his friend’s rambling, filling the bottle quickly before handing it to you. thanking them both, you sat up straight, although every muscle and every ligament in your body screamed as you did, and drank a couple of sips.

deciding that you wouldn’t get anything done sitting there all night, you put away the bottle and pressed your hands into the ground, trying to push yourself up, but instantly failed. jay saw your struggling and bolted up, offering his hand down to you and helping you stand up once you took it in yours. “how’s your balance?” jake asked as you froze for a few seconds when you were trying to figure out if you were blacking out due to the stinging feeling in your head or due to your blood pressure dropping from standing up too quickly.

“not good enough,” you chuckled. “will you guys help me?” they both nodded, and soon they were by your sides, letting you throw your arms across their shoulders to steady you.

as you walked into the castle again through the hole you had come out from a while ago, you couldn’t help but to think about what jay had said earlier. say our goodbyes to those who are leaving us... he made it seem like there are many who were too injured to bring back. there couldn’t be a lot, could there?

“where is heeseung?” you asked, moving your head between them to look at their faces. “he knows we are fighting, right? he can’t give up!”

jake stopped in his tracks, which made you jump back too even though you all were just a few meters from the main hall by now, and he gave jay a very specific look. “you haven’t told her, have you?”

jay rubbed his hand that wasn’t holding you up against the back of his neck. “i- i haven’t found a good moment to do it!”

“wha-” was all you could let out before jake spoke again.

“and you think this is a good moment?!” he almost yelled, shaking his head at jay.

“i don’t think we’ll find a better one, nor that we have any choice,” jay groaned, and just as your confusion and frustration of not being allowed into the conversation peaked, someone ran into your view.

“oh my god, y/n!” cried yewon, running up to you. “i’m so sorry for your loss, i wish there was something i could’ve done-”

and that’s when it hit you. you realized what jay and jake had been referring to, but you refused to believe it. she must’ve been confused, it can’t have been true, nothing was wrong-

you pulled away your arms from the boys and ignored their calls of your name when you sprinted forwards, past yewon and into the hall. you pushed away your thoughts of your aching muscles and how it was likely unwise to do this; nothing was more important right now than making it all the way to where the dead bodies lay in the middle of the room. they had removed the tables by now, and people were gathering in groups around the wizards and witches on the floor, though you couldn’t see anything other than the one body you were aiming towards. and as you reached him, the world turned black.

“sunghoon,” you whispered, crouching down to the floor and shaking him by his shoulders. “please, sunghoon. you’re not dead, you can’t die, not now, you...” before you knew it, your sobs were uncontrollable, your face buried in his dusty cloak. this couldn’t be real. there was no way. “wake up... i beg of you...”

you felt someone sit down next to you, and then a hand on your back. you instantly turned around and threw yourself into jay’s embrace, crying out loud. your hands clutched at the material covering his chest and once again you had trouble breathing, your breaths unnaturally short and rapid. jay held your trembling body to him as tightly as he could, hoping that if you felt that he was there with you he’d be able to hold you down in reality, to make sure your mind wasn’t floating away.