#strories

There's a smug smile playing on your lips the moment you cross the finish line, tires screeching against the asphalt as you step on the break and take a perfect U-turn to park your car in the middle of the impressed crowd. Adrenalin still rushes through your veins just as the car's engine still rumbles under you and fingers warm against the wheel, you let the satisfying feeling of winning hype you up before opening your door.

"That's my girl!" Chan welcomes you with a proud smile stretching over his lips, big palm patting you on the blade bones in congratulations before anyone else could. You grin at the brunette and reciprocate Changbin's half hug within the circle of your friends and admirers.

"Today's on me," you holler in the air followed by loud cheers and you know you gotta claim your prize for today's race before the sore losers would ruin your fun with their bitterness. A race is a race, there are no rules, so they cannot even call you out on cheating because technically there's nothing you could have done wrong. And well, everybody would laugh at them if they had to turn to such techniques against a girl.

It took you some time and definitely some nerve and thick skin to earn yourself a reputation and a title but by now, the Busan streets are like your playground and everybody who matters in this scene knows your name. You're the first girl who has ever won the local annual street race after all. Of course, you couldn't have done it alone. If it wasn't for your friends then you would have been nowhere near your current place. A lot of things had lead you to where you are now starting from your long friendship with Jisung who was your classmate in middle school. He introduced you to his friends, Changbin and Chan with whom you hit it off quite quickly. The eldest boy already had an interest in cars then and he was the one who taught you the most about how to pick a vehicle apart and then put it together thanks to his accurate technical knowledge. Changbin has been out on the streets for quite a while too, while Jisung mainly deals with the competitions: he gets the info about them, gathers maps about the routes and handles the prize money to make the most out of the cars.

But a bit of celebration never hurts, so you're off to go to your usual favourite place with the nice amount of cash in your hands when somebody steps in front of your and you have to halt your action. Annoyed, you look up at the tall guy in front of you and first, you think he must be one of those racers whom you left behind during the latest race. However, you are quite surprised when you see an unfamiliar face.

Busan might be a big city but the street racing scene isn't so big that you wouldn't know your competitors. It actually makes your job even easier because every driver has their signature type of driving and knowing them enables you to use this knowledge against them without them knowing.

"Impressive race," the stranger comments with a twitch in the corner of his mouth and you're once again taken aback but this time, it's because of the depth of his voice. He spoke up quietly but the deep rumbling resonated through the area.

"Thanks," you hum, not knowing why he has to stand in your way but at least, the guy doesn't waste your time and goes straight to the point:

"I can beat you, though," he claims confidently and he had some guts, you have to give him that but you laugh at his claim nevertheless. Not because you are that full of yourself that you think nobody can be better than you but taken the current circumstances it seems highly unlikely since you know the route well and newbie amateurs aren't competitors to you anyway.

"Ooooh do we have a Seoul boy here?" you raise a brow checking him out from head to toe not too impressed. He has slick, perfectly styled silver hair, showing off his undercut and dangling silver ear piercings. His facial features are defined by his high cheekbones, well-defined eyebrows and jaw as sharp as a knife. His dark eyes are like the night filled with fierce passion instead of stars.

Everybody can tell easily that he didn't belong here. It isn't just the expensive watch on his wrist or his weird dialect but the way he carries himself. There's some arrogance in it, as if he had some kind of privilege over countryside folks like you. But pity for him, whoever treats him as if he was a little prince, nobody here cares. He could have been the son of the president and nobody would have given a shit about his family background. On the Streets, nothing else matters just raw talent and what you have built for yourself. He couldn't just walk in him acting like he owned the place. That's very far from the truth and you take it upon yourself, enlightening him.

"You don't know how things work around here, do you? You can't just challenge someone like that," you tell him firmly and the crowd around you provides the sounds effects, gasping as if the guy just got burnt. He, however, doesn't seem too bothered. He merely raises an eyebrow back at you.

"Why? Are you afraid?" he mocks you, deep voice reminding you of deep waters. You wonder briefly whether it is possible to drown in a voice.

"Of course not," you snort since that's a ridiculous guess. Why would you have been afraid? Statistically he has like 1 to 100 chance to win against you. Busan is a maze made of beach strolls, mountain roads and tricky underpasses. Unlike him, you know these all too well, not used to the straight and wide roads of the capital city. "But I don't have to explain myself to someone who don't know or respect our rules. Educate yourself first." 

You don't do it on purpose but the crowd around you seems to enjoy your remarks. However, the guy doesn't seem to take it to heart. 

"Oh I know you have this open popup competition thing going on," he shrugs nonchalantly speaking so ignorantly talking about how your races are held that it rubs you off the wrong way. Doesn't he get that randomly getting notified of where and when the races are held meant that you have to be ready all the time? 

" I was just wondering whether you were up for an off-competition race. Think of it like a challenge. I will be here same time tomorrow," he said and flashed you a smirk before turning on his heels and leaving the scenes while being watched by numerous baffled eyes including yours.

"So… drinks?" Jisung broke the silence with his hopeful question and everybody seemed to share the sentiment.

Originally, you didn’t want to care about arrogant guys’ any random challenge because you knew that if you agreed to one, then more would come after him and each of them would call you a coward if you turned any down. However, as Changbin reminded you that stranger boy with his ridiculous undercut called you out in front of a crowd, letting everyone know about the time and place, so you could be pretty sure there would be quite an audience there later that day with or even without you. You hated to give in like that, but you pretty much have no choice but to go there and teach that brat a lesson. That things weren’t played like this on your streets.

"Yah yah yah, guys! You won't believe this!" Jisung runs to the garage where you're currently trying to start the engine when Chan, the one working on the gears, tells you, too. Jisung looks dishevelled and a bit panicked, so it should be something important. Keyword is should because he tends to act so dramatic even because of stuff like a slightly burnt toast. 

"What?" you turn towards him, having the urge to ruffle his already messy hair. Since you have a pretty casual brother-sister-like relationship with each guy on your team, it wouldn’t be something weird or out of line. However, you stay in place and turn the keys as Chan taps on the car hood, getting the engine finally fumbling under his handyman hands.

"The guy, you know, from yesterday… I found out who he is!" Jisung tells you all too proudly but he seems to jittery over such information. You guessed he must be a nobody from Seoul thinking car races on the streets of Busan are similar to the ones he had back at home, you even played with the idea, he only knew stuff like a wheel and gears from arcade games. However, when you shoot an uninterested look at Jisung, he whips out his phone and shoves a website into your face with the guy's unimpressed face on it.

He looks somewhat younger in the picture and his hair is wavy blonde instead of the short-cut silver like now but it really is him. That arrogant look in his eyes rubs you off the wrong way just by looking at his image with the description calling him Felix Lee.

"He's a legit car racer! The youngest one in the Australian national team!" Jisung basically shouts and your attention drifts to the headline of the article claiming that the boy abruptly moved to Korea.

Maybe you should be intimidated but you just snort. He acted so almighty just because he used to play with those super expensive toy cars within the set route of an arena? Hah, he would fail badly on the roads, especially if he isn't used to being done dirty by other racers. It wasn't some Formula 1 here, you have no such rules. 

"And? I can still beat his ass," you claimed confidently, knowing your skills. Winning against a newbie in street racing would be easy as a pie. 

"Still, keep it in mind that he isn't as clueless as we thought. He knows cars and is probably good under pressure," Chan a.k.a the voice of reason reminded you. You know that it's important to not underestimate your enemy but you're too annoyed by this prick and his arrogant attitude. 

"Sure, but we know that area better than anyone. I have raced there multiple times, I know the shortcuts and the dangerous turns. There's no way he could do better on first try," you claim fairly sure of yourself and you glance at the time, seeing you have a few more hours until you have to be there, at the bay, behind that warehouse with Hyundai written on its side.

"Don't be like that, guys, no need to get stressed, she will show him how it's done in Busan. He'll get the authentic taste of losing," Changbin speaks up waking from his nap and you grin at him, giving him a high five in gratitude for his support. You know that the others worry for your sake too but you don't need that, there's nothing to be anxious about.

Or so you thought. 

You start to get second thoughts when arriving to the venue you see Lee I Think I'm The Best Felix's car. A beautiful white Toyota Supra 2020. The paint on the sides seems brand new, the red strikes powerful and the smoke effect makes it aesthetic. But too bad, pretty cars are worth nothing if the engine is cheap and weak. But the thing is, you know this car. Or at least the type and you have been meaning to get your hands on one for literal years! It's just super rare and hella expensive. All your savings from competitions wouldn't be enough to get one. And now you're not only annoyed by the guy's behaviour but also envious of him. Huh, such a showoff though. Or rather a coward, you would like to think. Coming to race against you with a car that's being said to have one of the best acceleration speed. Compared to that, your baby is a veteran Nissan, having been used years and fixed up by Chan numerous times. But it's still running on high speed and you're familiar with every little thing, how to drift or how to use your nitro smartly, because of course, you have upgraded it over the years, even hand painted the 4RACHA sign onto its side.

"So… you came," the guy pushes himself away from his car, arms crossed against his chest and you don't like his content, bright smile. He seems genuinely glad to see you and seeing how much the crowd fawns over his fancy car, you're sure he came here to show off. 

"Can't have you think you can just walk into Busan so mighty," you roll your eyes, adding internally: can't have him think you were a coward. 

"Well, you can show me my place then," he chuckles all too amused and you press your lips together disapproving. You don't like how relaxed he is. As if he's already won regardless the result of the race.

"Hey guys, I'm gonna let you know about today's race to keep it fair and unbiased," atall, blonde haired guy from the Streets community walked up to you. Hyunjin is one of the organizers of the weekly and annual events too. They decide the routes, the prizes, the time and they invite everyone involved. They are pretty much the center of the Busan street race competition.

"I will be the one drawing the flag, you will receive the GPS coordinate you have to reach, there's no advised route. We will monitor where you are and see if you reach the point. The first one who makes it back will be the winner. Is it clear?" he asks looking from the new guy to you and when your eyes meet, you see his mouth turn slightly upward.

His smile has gotten you into trouble before and stupidly you still feel that nostalgic fondness towards your ex-boyfriend. It's been a while since you broke up due to the rumours that him giving out info helped you win so many races but you still care about him to a certain extent. You would have liked to stay friends but in this competitive world it's better not to keep too close attachments between organizers and racer. Too many people badmouth those.

"Sure thing," the newbie grins and you just nod. You have already known this after all.

"Alright, then get ready," Hyunjin tells you, a wavy blonde lock falling ahead into his eyes from his manbun. 

You shot one last look at the silver-haired guy and his shining dark orbs before turning on your heels you sit back into your car after receiving encouragement from your friends and some regular viewers.

Sitting behind the wheels you already see the red dot lighting up on your integrated GPS map and already know you will go along the shore to go there instead of across the town. Less distractions and obstacles.

Once Hyunjin and some others you know through the races send the crowd a bit farther, giving the two lined up cars enough space around the starting line. Your ex takes the black flag and white you use for such purposes and stands in front of you, between the black Nissan and the white Toyota. You start your engine, running it, warming it up while he waves the flag above his head. You hear the counting down, the echoes in the back of your mind and when Hyunjin suddenly brings the sign down, you step on the gas, car shooting ahead next to the guy's.

He speeds up quickly too, even getting a meter or two ahead of your car and when you reach a one small alley between two containers, you have no other choice but to step on the break to get behind him and not run into that metal monstrum. But you grin nevertheless because this way, you can watch him take a right turn going into the suburbs not knowing about the tricky little streets and the business of that area around these hours. On the other hand, you take the empty road alongside the beach, going at a high speed already.

It makes you slightly anxious that you don’t see him and don’t know how he’s keeping up but then Changbin basically screams into your earpiece you usually wear during races in case you can get insights from the guys.

“You gotta speed up, honey, because that kid is crazy. He’s going at a breakneck speed even in traffic,” he tells you sounding astonished himself while monitoring the GPS signals of the two cars.

“What the hell,” you murmur under your nose and step on the gas even more, paying extra attention at that 90° turn at the end of the road before you’d end up in the sea. You cannot lose to that arrogant bastard, you tell yourself and pass by a few cars as you got into the port area driving towards the assigned point.

Your Nissan Silvia slides out to the main road just before the white Toyota and your grit your teeth that he’s so freaking close to you. The two of you race towards the crossroad that seems to be the point that the organizers appointed as your first goal. However, going ahead is too big of a detour, so you know that you have the best chance to take a U-turn which is kind of crazy at the speed you’re going. But good for you, your car was basically made for drifting and you’re pretty good at taking well-aimed sharp turns.

So just before reaching the crossroad you keep accelerating, only to take your footing off the gas and you pull the handbrake in when you hear the GPS exclaim that ‘You’ve reached your destination’. The sudden stop makes the back wheels lose grip and you feel the force weight shift, the seatbelt keeping your body still despite the car’s yanking and when you see the road you’ve just taken now you let go off the brakes, stepping onto the gas hard. Leaving nothing but screeching sound and your traces on the concrete behind, you speed up again.

Your heart still beats overdrive when you take a quick look in the rear mirror checking on the guy and you’re quite annoyed to see him not too much behind. He’s keeping up well, you have to admit and you hate that. You’re used to being able to predict the result at this point of a race.

“You’re doing great, just keep that distance between you,” Changbin tries to soothe your nerves, knowing you all too well and you bite your tongue to not make a repost at such a useful advice.

Instead, you take the turn back to the beach but this time, the Australian guy follows you and no matter how hard you try, you can’t get rid of him. The closer you get to the finishing line, the more nervous you get wondering what he’s planning, whether he wants to pull a dirty trick on you but in the end, it’s your car that crosses the line first, his a few meters behind and the most annoying thing is that you aren’t sure he wouldn’t have been able to pass you by if he really tried.

So why? Why did he challenge you only to lose? You just can’t wrap your mind around it.

Maybe that’s why when you walk around with two beers in your hands and you approach him when you spot him in the midst of talking and dancing people at this impromptu party someone’s high quality loudspeakers and the music coming from them causes with the amount of alcohol present.

“Here,” you hold a beer out for him to take. You try to sound nonchalant but you aren’t so sure that you managed to do that based on the look he gives you.

Felix or how the hell he likes to be cold, looks up at you with pure surprise written over his features. He has shred off his black leather jacket since the last time you have seen him get out of his car and in the plain white shirt beneath he looks somewhat softer than before. Or it might be because of his expression as well because there’s nothing arrogant about him as he takes the can from your hand.

“Thanks,” he murmurs in his deep voice although he stares at you so doubtful as if he was expecting for a long scolding or at least a prank pulled on him. You want to laugh at that thought because you really aren’t that scary or intimidating .But okay, maybe you have those deadly glares like Jisung likes to state. (But maybe if he learned not to put your stuff away then you wouldn’t look at him like that.)

You don’t even ask, you just plop down next to the guy, sitting in front of the Toyota and watching the starry night above the Busan beach. He doesn’t ask why you do so when a few hours before you were so keen on proving him wrong and then celebrating with your friends that you indeed did. He doesn’t question you but you can feel his eyes on you even when he speaks up.

“That drift was pretty sick. You almost lost me there for a minute or so.”

He doesn’t say it like ‘wow you are a girl but you can drive’ which would have been kind of offensive but he seems truly impressed by your skills and that feels nice. You being a girl does not limit you in anything and it’s nice to hear others admit it as well. Bad for him, you’re not that good of letting go of your grunge even if it’s that baseless like the one you had against him for being rich show off kid with no talent. Although you would only take back the last part.

“Thanks. You weren’t that bad either, I guess,” you mumble out though and that’s already something from you! Changbin could tell him about it. You’re too competitive to admit something like that so carelessly.

“You guess,” he laughs at that, genuine and carefree. He has a nice laugh. It goes surprisingly high-pitch compared to his deep voice.

He doesn’t seem too stiff or distant, so you decide to break the ice and not beat around the bush. You have always been straightforward in your own way. And maybe that can of beer you have already drowned after the race helps your tongue to get loose too. 

“I heard you were a professional car racer. Why did you stop?” you ask, turning your head towards him, eyeing the pretty freckles over his cheeks and the way those silver strands sometimes get into his forehead. The thought of him messy haired and unstyled makes him younger in your eyes, more like his age. As someone who had been competing on the big screen from the age of sixteen. Like Chan said, that must have been quite the pressure and you wonder whether he ever felt so threatened like you did when he challenged you the day before.

“Oh so you did your research…” The boy turns around you, raising an eyebrow with a smug smile tugging on his lips and you want to smack him because of the teasing in his voice.

“I did not! Don’t get ahead of yourself!” You snort instead, rolling your eyes at him. You really did not, but if he doesn’t believe the truth like this, you won’t waste more time trying to convince him otherwise. Then, your comment is followed by silence and for a minute you think that he wouldn’t answer which you would understand. You’re a stranger after all. But in the end he shrugs, but his voice is sad.

“It’s just the typical sad reason. I don’t need your pity,” he says turning his gaze onto the floow, fingers intertwined in front of him and there’s a certain tenseness in his bones and moves.

“Oh I’m the last person who would pity someone who walked into my playground as if he was about to take it over,” you bite there, a bit playfully though and the racer laughs at that again, ruffling his silver locks casually in the meantime.

“My grandmother fell ill and someone has to be there for her, so I came back to Korea. I love being here though and grandma is the sweetest, I just miss racing,” he tells you in the end, words slurring together from the speed he’s talking but you guess he just wanted to get over with it quickly, like tearing off a plaster.

You can tell that he’s being sincere about his words, both about his love and caree towards his ill grandmother and his craving to race again. You can understand that, missing the feeling of the engine starting up under you, radiating through your body, missing the adrenaline and excitement of drifts and jumps, feeling like you're flying. That’s the only thing you’re really good at and you’re so invested that you don’t know what you would do if suddenly it wasn’t in your life. You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself. Maybe he’s just the same and he called you out only to feel that rush again. That’s why winning didn’t matter to him.

“You can always come and compete here,” so you tell him, letting him know that he’s welcomed to come back, to join the Streets and before he would think you have become sentimental, you gently tap the hood of the Toyota behind you. “It would be a pity to waste the potential of this beautiful car of yours.”

A soft smile appears on the boy’s face that only widens once he comes up with something equally teasing. 

“You can drive it if you want,” he offers as if he didn’t care about the millions he spent on this car. He really must have grown up in a rich household.

“So generous,” you snort playfully. Although, if he’s being serious then holy shit, really? It would be a dream to drive such a car. 

But the racer just chuckles, not getting offended by your remark. Then, out of blue, he adds: “I’m Felix by the way.”

“I know,” you hum, uninterested. At least you pretended to be seemingly. Once word got around that he came back to Korea, apparently everybody has been talking about him. 

“I never caught your name though,” You raise a brow at that. “Everybody calls you on all sorts of nicknames.”

You let out a chuckle at that, it's true though, you're the girl of the Streets. Obviously not the only one but the best racer of them for sure, so the guys here treat you like their sister. 

“Well, you can always ask. I’m pretty sure my friends would be happy to tell you,” you sigh, knowing your friends all too well. Sure, they wouldn't give out your contacts to every random stranger but Felix seems harmless. You're pretty sure Jisung would accidentally spill your name anyway. 

“Nah. Too easy. I’m considering to ask for another race to earn it,” the silver-haired guy remarks with an elegant raise of his brow and it makes you laugh. He's surprisingly fun to be around if he's willing to go to extremes such as racing to get your name.

It was just as inviting as before. The tea fresh and a deep chocolate undertone with a minty crispness. The flower named man told him all the places the blend had come from, about how it was brewed, and all the other sorts he could try but the words slipped easily from his mind. It was simply too pleasant to be here... time seemed motionless... irrelevant. His tongue so loose as he told story after story of his childhood. Of his work. Of the people in his life.

Then she walked in. Not through the front but from the back. A door that he’d failed to ever notice before... it seemed to lead outside and he found himself rising, curious, as the woman spoke to the tiny flower man. 

The door lead to a courtyard? How was there even space for it in the center of the city? A greenhouse, maybe? Flowers spilled out and gave way to vegetables and twisting saplings and bird calls. Small insects buzzed past his head and he swore he saw a house... just past that flowering bush...

A hand fell onto his shoulder with a grip like iron wood. Fingertips pressing into his flesh and rooting him to his spot. Her smile was gentle, her words inviting, but their meaning clear. He wasn’t welcome where he was treading. This place was not meant for him.

Weeks later, as he looked back, he assured himself that he’d simply wandered into the employee's area. That he’d been tried from the heat, his eyes playing tricks. Yet...

By the time he saw the shop a third time he’d already been studying magic for several years. He’d learned spells for seeing and for finding. This time it wasn’t found by accident. 

He’d had a bit of the ribbon that had once held flowers. A ribbon tied by the flower man’s hand. The spell he wove into the silken strands made his fingers tingle as he chanted. Tied into a loop he peered through it wandering through the city, looking. There where shadows he’d not seen before, things that made him change paths and once he thought he might hurl. He closed his fist around the ribbon. Closed his eyes tight. There was no smell. No sound to confirm what he’d glimpsed. Maybe... maybe... but the image would not leave him mind. He nearly gave up right then... but a block away, he lifted the ribbon once more.

The shop was glorious. It nearly seemed to glow. The shelves reached so high that he felt like a mouse. He had to put the ribbon down, his eyes watered from the sight of it. And there was the man, so gorgeous in the way the sun played off his dark skin and highlighted his unnaturally red hair. He seemed to bounce and jump as he spoke to the woman. She was beautiful too, though he’d never had much of an eye for women. Youthful and animated, her smile brilliant as she laughed at the joke the flower man told. 

The ribbon clutched in his fist seemed to burn his palm but he raised it to his eye regardless. Eyes open wide, longing to know, to understand.

The hand that held the teacup wasn’t a hand. He could see eyes. So many eyes. Everywhere. Unblinking. It was as if every plant had eyes yet they were not the eyes of the plants. He could see then that his presence wasn’t unknown. He watched the eyes watching him. 

A flicker of light drew his gaze. Strings. They trailed through the room as gossamer. Glowing and twinkling as starlight. Where they went he wasn’t certain, but where they started was easily found. At the table. Curled over it. Her horns curled back and spiraled, amazing and terrible. Her feet disappeared into the earth as tree roots, her arms jangled and clacked, filled with nick-knacks. Her open eyes were a twilight field of stars as the room filled with the scent of old books.

He became aware that he was screaming. The sound filling the shop which wasn’t a shop. His eyes had been closed for some time but he could still see her. Could still see the eyes.

A hand like old wood touched his face. Words were spoken, soft as a new leave unfurling and just as unstoppable. 

The man that returned home to his husband was much duller than the one who had left that morning. His eyes tended to glass over, his thoughts much slower. Every day he returned to the tea shop, the flower shop. Still himself. Just a little less... and a little more.

If one knew how to look... they might see he had too many eyes. Eyes that didn’t belong to him.