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“another one?” you shoot a judgemental look at the man sitting next to you during the reception. the emotional beats of the ceremony have long passed. now, all guests are dancing, drinking, chatting—generally having a good time. everyone except you.

“mind your own business, princess.”

oh, that nickname. you hated that nickname ever since the first time he called you that. you’re convinced he only still calls you that because he knows it pisses you off.

he doesn’t spare a glance in your direction as he downs the rest of the champagne left in his tall glass. he purses his lips as he swallows, the liquor coating them in a thin, glassy sheen.

he taps his finger on top of the linen tablecloth, as if he’s waiting for something.

you scoff, rolling your eyes. “your best friend’s getting married and you can’t even pretend to be happy for him for one night?”

“who said i wasn’t happy for him?” he looks at you. you could probably count the amount of times he’s looked in your general direction tonight on one hand.

“right, 'cause you definitely look like you are.”

you look away, over towards the dance floor where your brother and sister-in-law are lighting up the space. you could feel a presence getting closer to you. when you turn back around, doyoung’s face is a lot closer than it was a few seconds ago.

“fuck off, i can smell the liquor on you.” you couldn’t, not really. you’ve just had enough of him for tonight and he was getting on your last nerve.

“yeah, now you know how it feels. mind. your own. business.” he punctuated that sentence with a heavy glare at every pause.

doyoung gets up from his seat. you’re far away enough and it’s late enough into the night where no one would really notice if a guest or two slips away.

it’s an outdoor wedding, in the middle of a big open grass field. the taller grass sway in the gentle breeze of spring in the nighttime. the stars are out, though you can’t really see them with how many lights are lighting up the reception area.

doyoung tucks his chair under the round table.

“where are you going?” your voice coming out maybe a little too much like a strict mother.

“my god, do i have to tell you everything i do?” he’s exasperating, truly, and you tell him such.

that doesn’t stop him, he walks off and before he gets completely out of your field of vision, you get up and follow him.

his hands are tucked inside the pockets of his trousers. they fit him well enough. first thing you thought to yourself when you first saw him this afternoon was that he at least made himself presentable for such a big moment in your brother’s life. although, thinking about it now, maybe that’s the only thing he’s truly ever good at—looking good.

“hey!” you shout after him, pacing a few steps behind. he doesn’t turn or react. “can you stop being a jerk for one night? just one night!” he stops and you do as well, having finally caught up to him. you’ve reached where all the cars are parked, the road that leads into this bit of the field ends with the small parking lot.

you watch as his hand goes a little deeper into his pocket, and he pulls out the keys to his car. with a beep, the car in front of you unlocks.

he gets inside the driver’s seat.

worried that he’s going to drive away—and with especially knowing how much he’s had to drink tonight—you panicked and get into the passenger’s side as quick as you can.

you shut the door. he looks at you blankly.

“what do you think you’re doing?” he says completely deadpan.

you can’t help but scoff. “you’re unbelievable, kim doyoung,” you mutter under your breath. “are you going to drive?”

“no.”

you give him a puzzling look, you just can’t seem to get to a common ground with him.

“i’m smoking.” he pulls a box of cigarettes out of the small compartment on your side. his forearm lightly grazing your thigh.

“oh,” the realisation slips through your lips absentmindedly.

you watch quietly as he picks up a cigarette in between his fingers, slots it between his lips, and lights it with a lighter he’s fished from his pocket. he rolls down the window on his side, resting his elbow on the frame and blows the smoke out.

he doesn’t say anything else about your being there. with him. in his car.

but it feels more like he’s ignoring your presence, rather than him accepting it.

you speak up again, “what’s your issue?”

that catches his attention. he turns his head around, eyes locking on you. “excuse me?”

“you’re always such an ass.” you lean back into your seat, crossing your arms under your chest.

he laughs, probably not out of humour. “i’m an ass, okay.” he nods his head gently a few times before turning back around to take another drag of his cig. “well,” he sucks in a short breath through his teeth and taps the ashes off, “i’m sorry you feel that way, princess.”

“stop calling me that,” your annoyance seeps through every inflection of your voice.

“oh, but that’s what you are, aren’t you? the precious princess who always gets her way.”

you can’t even conjure up a sentence, all you can do is pull a face in disbelief.

“we both know that’s true,” he mutters before exhaling the smoke out of the window.

“that is not true,” you protest.

“that one time you wanted a mercedes for your birthday, but oh no, they didn’t have the colour you wanted. and so your daddy went all over searching for you just to get the car you wanted on your 23rd birthday.”

it sounds like he had that one ready.

“and you can’t even drive that well,” he adds.

“fuck you,” is all you manage to say.

he cocks his eyebrows, a smirk sitting on his lips like that was sufficient of a victory for him. “oh, and who can forget, princess yn who cried that one time we all went out for dinner ‘cause they didn’t have the lobster dish you liked.” he sighs, “you’re insufferable.”

“i’m insufferable?” your voice raising a bit louder than his.

he nods, a quiet “mhm” accompanies it.

“well- you’re a jerk!”

he looks at you with his eyebrows raised. not shocked, but rather provoking you to say more.

“you’re always getting drunk somewhere, and then my brother always have to go get you from whatever club or brothel you’re at. you- you’re spoiled as well. and you have an annoying face!”

you can’t see yourself, but you imagine the expression on your face is one of pride, because doyoung breaks into a chuckle a second after you finished your declaration.

“that’s it? that’s all you’ve got?”

“it’s true,” you back yourself up.

“well, guess we’re even then. aren’t we, sweetheart?” he takes another puff.

you hate it when he calls you those condescending nicknames.

“only if you stop calling me those names,” you say as you cross your arms again.

“i like them,” he simply states and he drops the cigarette onto the cement ground, “they suit you.” doyoung leans his head back onto the rest of his seat. he places both his hands on the steering wheel, his eyes are lowered as he looks through the windshield, back at where the wedding was taking place in the distance.

he exhales a deep breath.

both of you let the silence pass through you.

“you’re extra asshole-y tonight, though,” you start off, resuming your banter. “is something… wrong?” you try to ask as carefully as possible.

your brother has told you that doyoung has been acting even more reckless lately, and he said he didn’t know why. the exact words your brother said to you when he told you he’s making doyoung your date to his wedding was, “look after him. he’s going through a hard time.”

and now, sitting in his car alone with him, you’re beginning to see the façade fade away. he’s a jerk, sure, but both of you know that to some extent, this is just how your relationship has always been, and probably will always be. he’s not actually a jerk. at least, that’s what you thought deep down inside.

“no, eeeverything’s just fine.” his shoulders slump.

you punch him lightly in the arm, “come on. i’ve known you for so long,” you sit up, turning your body slightly to face him. “who else are you gonna tell?”

it’s like you can see the gears actively turning in his head. he slightly puckers up his lips as he contemplates. “you’re right. i’m going to tell you,” his gaze darts over to you, “but you can’t tell anyone else, okay?”

the way the conversation is going is reminiscent of when you two would share secrets in the playground.

“okay.”

he looks back at the wedding. “you see your sister-in-law?” he asks, his eyes following her every move. the dress she’s chosen for her reception was short. way too short to be classed as traditional. she looks good.

you hum in agreement, watching the woman in question alongside doyoung.

“we used to date.”

“what?” the reaction comes involuntarily. you never knew that—your brother never mentioned that to you, or anything of the sort.

doyoung simply widens his eyes briefly, as if it’s a tired matter that he’s sick of hearing about.

“and… does my brother know?”

“yeah,” he lifts his right hand up and drops it back down onto the steering wheel. the sound the leather makes is dull. “oh, your brother,” he sighs, “he’s just the perfect, perfect man.”

you can sense his disdain, and frankly, you can’t blame him. you never knew about this, and you couldn’t believe that your brother would keep this away from you.

“i’m… so sorry,” this is probably the first time you can say that you meant every apologetic word you’ve uttered to kim doyoung. “i didn’t know.”

“i know,” he replies, “we never told anyone—her and i. except your brother found out.”

“how did he find out?” you can’t help but ask. it’s like you’ve dug into a goldmine, and now all you wanna do is keep digging.

“doesn’t matter,” doyoung shakes the topic off. “but that’s why… if i’ve been extra ‘asshole-y’ tonight, as you put it so eloquently, then, i’m sorry.”

you can’t think of what to say, so you don’t say anything.

there’s a second pass of silence.

you both sit in his car, the music in the distance can be heard faintly. your brother and his wife are dancing together.

“do you… wanna leave?” you ask him. your task was to make sure he behaves himself tonight at the wedding, if he’s not there, then he’s not your responsibility, right?

to your surprise, he shakes his head. “no, i’m happy for him. for them.”

“listen, if you want me to get back at him for you, i’d do it,” you say in an attempt to lighten the mood. “bleach his hair in his sleep, make him bald. just name it.”

he laughs a humourless laugh, “i’m over it.”

“mmh.”

you don’t say anything in response, but you both knew what you meant. sure, you’re over it.

doyoung glances over at you. you expect to be met with the same, annoyed face that you’ve grown to hate over the years. but instead you’re met with an expression that you haven’t really seen before from him. it puzzles you.

he gives you a quick look up and down, scanning the dress you’re wearing. one that the bride specified had to be a light shade of butter yellow, or else it seemed like the world was going to end. the chiffon pools in your lap, the soft folds making each overlap more opaque than the last.

“you look good,” the words come out of him casually.

it’s a trite statement, but somehow it feels different coming from him. “thanks, you too,” you return.

“can i kiss you?” the swiftness and boldness of his question catches you off guard. if something were to ever happen between the two of you, you would’ve imagined there would've been some type of hesitation. but there’s none on his end.

“are you doing this as revenge on my brother?” you point out, eyes narrowing at him.

“yes and no.”

“why no?”

“you’re my best friend’s sister,” he drops his gaze to your lips. you’re suddenly too aware of the fact that your lip gloss has been washed away by the evening drinks. “you think i didn’t want you all those years?”

“am i just supposed to believe that?” your mind flashes through every single moment you’ve spent with doyoung ever. you always had a crush on him, just because he was older and you figured it was normal for girls your age to have crushes on older boys. but you always thought it to be one-sided.

“what could i have done? you were my best friend’s sister,” he reiterates, emphasising on those three words this time. “little sister, may i add.”

“and tonight is when you decide to tell me.”

he shrugs, “if your brother can do whatever he wants, why can’t i? only if you want to, of course.”

you look at him for a second, studying his sharp features. eyes lingering a little too long on the opened buttons of his shirt. 

“okay,” you mumble softly, a bundle of nerves buzzing up inside you in excitement, or anxiousness—you can’t quite tell.

“yeah?” he raises his brows, scanning your face for any hint of reluctance.

“mhm, you can kiss me.”

at the sound of those words, he leans in closer to you over the console. his fingers find the tip of your jaw, tilting your head at just the right angle so he can plant a kiss on you. his lips are softer than you’d imagined, and the kiss lasts shorter than you’d expect.

he pulls back, there’s a certain softness in his eyes, “are you sure?”

rather than a verbal response, you place your hand on his neck and kiss him again. this time, neither of you pull away.

his hand rests on your waist, holding back from gripping tightly onto you.

the way his touch feels on you is exhilarating; you’ve pictured this many a time when you were in your teenage years. sneaking away from your families, going under the cover of the night sky, and kissing doyoung in his car. now that it’s finally happening, some part of you doesn’t believe it to be real.

your thumb grazes his cheek, this is all too real. his flesh is flushed with heat—either from the alcohol or from something else, you’re not too sure.

he envelopes your lips within his softly. the sounds of you kissing faintly fill the space between you.

you moan lightly as you’re pressed up against him, barely stopping to catch your breath. the kiss deepens quickly and with a sense of urgency unlike before. his hands around your waist are digging into you, pulling you as close as he possibly can to him. his fingers trail down to your hips, and then your ass, grabbing as firm a hold of you as he can with the slippery material in the way.

he grips tightly onto your leg, and lifts you up and over the console so that now you’re sitting straddling him. he does it effortlessly, as if he’s done this a million times. your dress is fanned out all over his lap.

doyoung pulls away, fingers now brushing your hair out of your face so that he can see you. it’s dark outside, the only light being that of the one mounted in the ceiling of his car. the glow falls over his features, highlighting every point of his face—his cheekbones, his cupid’s bow, his nose. you feel your heartbeat suddenly picking up.

you get the urge to say something stupid, but you hold it down for long enough that he speaks before you can.

“you really are beautiful, princess.”

you land a soft blow to his chest, “i told you to stop calling me that.”

“i can’t help it,” doyoung smirks before he presses his lips onto yours again.

you find yourself moving on top of his lap. the way he kisses you makes you crave him in his entirety. your hips drag over his crotch, slow enough that you thought he wouldn’t notice. but he does.

“you’re grinding on me,” he mumbles in between kisses.

his words only prompt you to move faster. doyoung puts both of his hands on your hips, guiding you in your movements. you think you feel something rising up underneath all those layers of chiffon.

you kiss his neck. “fuck,” he curses. “fuck, i want you so bad,” doyoung moans softly, it feels more subdued than something he’d say voluntarily.

you plant kiss after kiss all over his neck, finding a spot that elicited a groan from him when you bit him soft enough.

curses continue to fall from his lips. he hikes your dress up all the way to your thighs, his fingertips kneading and digging into your bare skin.

“i need to have you now,” he says breathily, “please.”

you couldn’t hold back a smirk, seeing how unravelled he’s already become beneath you.

you push yourself up onto your knees, fingers fidgeting with the zip of his pants in the darkness. you undo his trousers, finally revealing the extent of his desire for you. pulling his waistband away from his skin, his dick springs up red and hard.

you feel your pussy soak through your panties at the sight of it.

you only notice that you’re biting down hard into your lip moments later.

“look what you did to me,” doyoung mutters delicately. 

you pull your panties to the side, feeling the wetness on the side of your thigh. the urge to sink down entirely on his cock consumes you, you want him to fill you all the way up.

with one hand, he holds onto his base, and the other rests on the side of your leg. he lines his tip up with your slit. “fuck…” he drags the sound out, running the tip of his cock over the wetness that’s pooled all over your cunt.

you can’t bare the teasing; your patience is running thin. “just fuck me already,” you whine.

he smirks, “there she is. there’s my spoiled princess.”

with a groan, he pushes himself into you. slowly, very slowly, until he’s all the way inside you. you hold back your whines as you feel his cock fill you up inch by inch. your walls wrap tightly against him. “you feel so fucking good,” he breathes. “you okay?”

you nod. you just want him to fuck you properly, unable to think of anything else.

he slides himself out, then back in, quickly reaching a stable rhythm.

doyoung grunts softly with every thrust inside you. you find yourself looking for anything you can hold onto—a notch, a handle—just to stabilise yourself as he fucks himself into you. it feels as though you’re splitting apart on his cock, knocking gasps and moans out of you with every thrust.

“we could’ve done this so much sooner,” he mumbles in between grunts. “then, i would’ve known how fucking good your pussy feels.”

you can only let out whines and whimpers as you focus on the way his tip hits the spot inside you.

he puts his hand on your neck, his thumb pressing against your jaw. “you’re taking it so well, baby,” he caresses your face with the pad of his thumb. “such a good fucking girl.”

you hold back near cries of pleasure. your fingers find themselves in between your legs, acting as though they have a mind of their own as they begin circling your clit. it doesn’t take long before you start to feel the familiar pressure building up inside you.

“fuck, you’re getting so tight,” doyoung says breathily. “you gonna cum?”

“mhm,” you have never sounded so pathetic. nodding your head eagerly, desperate to cum with his cock slammed all the way inside you.

“do it,” he grumbles. his hips moving up into you relentlessly. “let me feel my bratty princess cum all over me.”

you feel the pressure building onto itself, until it finally boils over. you release all over his lap, body so weak that you can barely hold yourself up. you’re slumped over his shoulder as you feel your walls clamp down onto him. the noises coming from you could’ve easily been mistaken to have came from a porno.

you feel his hips still, all the way inside you. it takes you a moment to realise that he’s coming inside you. he desperately pants for air, sucking cool breaths in between his teeth. 

you feel something hot dripping out of you and down your thighs. his hips stiffen up, giving it one last thrust up into you, going deeper than he ever did.

“fuck,” he groans.

you’re feeling a little light-headed and you’re still holding onto your shoulder as if your life depends on it. you’re both panting for air, you feel his chest rising and falling alongside yours. the last wave of your orgasm still riding through your body as you feel your legs tense.

you hear a scoff, or a chuckle. 

“what?” you breathe out.

“nothing,” doyoung responds, equally as out of breath. 

you peel your body away from his, your balance still recovering. “what?” you repeat yourself with a stern gaze.

“i guess i don’t hate you as much as i’d thought after all.”

you roll your eyes. “you think us having sex one time is gonna make me not hate you?”

“another one?” you shoot a judgemental look at the man sitting next to you during the reception. the emotional beats of the ceremony have long passed. now, all guests are dancing, drinking, chatting—generally having a good time. everyone except you.

“mind your own business, princess.”

oh, that nickname. you hated that nickname ever since the first time he called you that. you’re convinced he only still calls you that because he knows it pisses you off.

he doesn’t spare a glance in your direction as he downs the rest of the champagne left in his tall glass. he purses his lips as he swallows, the liquor coating them in a thin, glassy sheen.

he taps his finger on top of the linen tablecloth, as if he’s waiting for something.

you scoff, rolling your eyes. “your best friend’s getting married and you can’t even pretend to be happy for him for one night?”

“who said i wasn’t happy for him?” he looks at you. you could probably count the amount of times he’s looked in your general direction tonight on one hand.

“right, 'cause you definitely look like you are.”

you look away, over towards the dance floor where your brother and sister-in-law are lighting up the space. you could feel a presence getting closer to you. when you turn back around, doyoung’s face is a lot closer than it was a few seconds ago.

“fuck off, i can smell the liquor on you.” you couldn’t, not really. you’ve just had enough of him for tonight and he was getting on your last nerve.

“yeah, now you know how it feels. mind. your own. business.” he punctuated that sentence with a heavy glare at every pause.

doyoung gets up from his seat. you’re far away enough and it’s late enough into the night where no one would really notice if a guest or two slips away.

it’s an outdoor wedding, in the middle of a big open grass field. the taller grass sway in the gentle breeze of spring in the nighttime. the stars are out, though you can’t really see them with how many lights are lighting up the reception area.

doyoung tucks his chair under the round table.

“where are you going?” your voice coming out maybe a little too much like a strict mother.

“my god, do i have to tell you everything i do?” he’s exasperating, truly, and you tell him such.

that doesn’t stop him, he walks off and before he gets completely out of your field of vision, you get up and follow him.

his hands are tucked inside the pockets of his trousers. they fit him well enough. first thing you thought to yourself when you first saw him this afternoon was that he at least made himself presentable for such a big moment in your brother’s life. although, thinking about it now, maybe that’s the only thing he’s truly ever good at—looking good.

“hey!” you shout after him, pacing a few steps behind. he doesn’t turn or react. “can you stop being a jerk for one night? just one night!” he stops and you do as well, having finally caught up to him. you’ve reached where all the cars are parked, the road that leads into this bit of the field ends with the small parking lot.

you watch as his hand goes a little deeper into his pocket, and he pulls out the keys to his car. with a beep, the car in front of you unlocks.

he gets inside the driver’s seat.

worried that he’s going to drive away—and with especially knowing how much he’s had to drink tonight—you panicked and get into the passenger’s side as quick as you can.

you shut the door. he looks at you blankly.

“what do you think you’re doing?” he says completely deadpan.

you can’t help but scoff. “you’re unbelievable, kim doyoung,” you mutter under your breath. “are you going to drive?”

“no.”

you give him a puzzling look, you just can’t seem to get to a common ground with him.

“i’m smoking.” he pulls a box of cigarettes out of the small compartment on your side. his forearm lightly grazing your thigh.

“oh,” the realisation slips through your lips absentmindedly.

you watch quietly as he picks up a cigarette in between his fingers, slots it between his lips, and lights it with a lighter he’s fished from his pocket. he rolls down the window on his side, resting his elbow on the frame and blows the smoke out.

he doesn’t say anything else about your being there. with him. in his car.

but it feels more like he’s ignoring your presence, rather than him accepting it.

you speak up again, “what’s your issue?”

that catches his attention. he turns his head around, eyes locking on you. “excuse me?”

“you’re always such an ass.” you lean back into your seat, crossing your arms under your chest.

he laughs, probably not out of humour. “i’m an ass, okay.” he nods his head gently a few times before turning back around to take another drag of his cig. “well,” he sucks in a short breath through his teeth and taps the ashes off, “i’m sorry you feel that way, princess.”

“stop calling me that,” your annoyance seeps through every inflection of your voice.

“oh, but that’s what you are, aren’t you? the precious princess who always gets her way.”

you can’t even conjure up a sentence, all you can do is pull a face in disbelief.

“we both know that’s true,” he mutters before exhaling the smoke out of the window.

“that is not true,” you protest.

“that one time you wanted a mercedes for your birthday, but oh no, they didn’t have the colour you wanted. and so your daddy went all over searching for you just to get the car you wanted on your 23rd birthday.”

it sounds like he had that one ready.

“and you can’t even drive that well,” he adds.

“fuck you,” is all you manage to say.

he cocks his eyebrows, a smirk sitting on his lips like that was sufficient of a victory for him. “oh, and who can forget, princess yn who cried that one time we all went out for dinner ‘cause they didn’t have the lobster dish you liked.” he sighs, “you’re insufferable.”

“i’m insufferable?” your voice raising a bit louder than his.

he nods, a quiet “mhm” accompanies it.

“well- you’re a jerk!”

he looks at you with his eyebrows raised. not shocked, but rather provoking you to say more.

“you’re always getting drunk somewhere, and then my brother always have to go get you from whatever club or brothel you’re at. you- you’re spoiled as well. and you have an annoying face!”

you can’t see yourself, but you imagine the expression on your face is one of pride, because doyoung breaks into a chuckle a second after you finished your declaration.

“that’s it? that’s all you’ve got?”

“it’s true,” you back yourself up.

“well, guess we’re even then. aren’t we, sweetheart?” he takes another puff.

you hate it when he calls you those condescending nicknames.

“only if you stop calling me those names,” you say as you cross your arms again.

“i like them,” he simply states and he drops the cigarette onto the cement ground, “they suit you.” doyoung leans his head back onto the rest of his seat. he places both his hands on the steering wheel, his eyes are lowered as he looks through the windshield, back at where the wedding was taking place in the distance.

he exhales a deep breath.

both of you let the silence pass through you.

“you’re extra asshole-y tonight, though,” you start off, resuming your banter. “is something… wrong?” you try to ask as carefully as possible.

your brother has told you that doyoung has been acting even more reckless lately, and he said he didn’t know why. the exact words your brother said to you when he told you he’s making doyoung your date to his wedding was, “look after him. he’s going through a hard time.”

and now, sitting in his car alone with him, you’re beginning to see the façade fade away. he’s a jerk, sure, but both of you know that to some extent, this is just how your relationship has always been, and probably will always be. he’s not actually a jerk. at least, that’s what you thought deep down inside.

“no, eeeverything’s just fine.” his shoulders slump.

you punch him lightly in the arm, “come on. i’ve known you for so long,” you sit up, turning your body slightly to face him. “who else are you gonna tell?”

it’s like you can see the gears actively turning in his head. he slightly puckers up his lips as he contemplates. “you’re right. i’m going to tell you,” his gaze darts over to you, “but you can’t tell anyone else, okay?”

the way the conversation is going is reminiscent of when you two would share secrets in the playground.

“okay.”

he looks back at the wedding. “you see your sister-in-law?” he asks, his eyes following her every move. the dress she’s chosen for her reception was short. way too short to be classed as traditional. she looks good.

you hum in agreement, watching the woman in question alongside doyoung.

“we used to date.”

“what?” the reaction comes involuntarily. you never knew that—your brother never mentioned that to you, or anything of the sort.

doyoung simply widens his eyes briefly, as if it’s a tired matter that he’s sick of hearing about.

“and… does my brother know?”

“yeah,” he lifts his right hand up and drops it back down onto the steering wheel. the sound the leather makes is dull. “oh, your brother,” he sighs, “he’s just the perfect, perfect man.”

you can sense his disdain, and frankly, you can’t blame him. you never knew about this, and you couldn’t believe that your brother would keep this away from you.

“i’m… so sorry,” this is probably the first time you can say that you meant every apologetic word you’ve uttered to kim doyoung. “i didn’t know.”

“i know,” he replies, “we never told anyone—her and i. except your brother found out.”

“how did he find out?” you can’t help but ask. it’s like you’ve dug into a goldmine, and now all you wanna do is keep digging.

“doesn’t matter,” doyoung shakes the topic off. “but that’s why… if i’ve been extra ‘asshole-y’ tonight, as you put it so eloquently, then, i’m sorry.”

you can’t think of what to say, so you don’t say anything.

there’s a second pass of silence.

you both sit in his car, the music in the distance can be heard faintly. your brother and his wife are dancing together.

“do you… wanna leave?” you ask him. your task was to make sure he behaves himself tonight at the wedding, if he’s not there, then he’s not your responsibility, right?

to your surprise, he shakes his head. “no, i’m happy for him. for them.”

“listen, if you want me to get back at him for you, i’d do it,” you say in an attempt to lighten the mood. “bleach his hair in his sleep, make him bald. just name it.”

he laughs a humourless laugh, “i’m over it.”

“mmh.”

you don’t say anything in response, but you both knew what you meant. sure, you’re over it.

doyoung glances over at you. you expect to be met with the same, annoyed face that you’ve grown to hate over the years. but instead you’re met with an expression that you haven’t really seen before from him. it puzzles you.

he gives you a quick look up and down, scanning the dress you’re wearing. one that the bride specified had to be a light shade of butter yellow, or else it seemed like the world was going to end. the chiffon pools in your lap, the soft folds making each overlap more opaque than the last.

“you look good,” the words come out of him casually.

it’s a trite statement, but somehow it feels different coming from him. “thanks, you too,” you return.

“can i kiss you?” the swiftness and boldness of his question catches you off guard. if something were to ever happen between the two of you, you would’ve imagined there would've been some type of hesitation. but there’s none on his end.

“are you doing this as revenge on my brother?” you point out, eyes narrowing at him.

“yes and no.”

“why no?”

“you’re my best friend’s sister,” he drops his gaze to your lips. you’re suddenly too aware of the fact that your lip gloss has been washed away by the evening drinks. “you think i didn’t want you all those years?”

“am i just supposed to believe that?” your mind flashes through every single moment you’ve spent with doyoung ever. you always had a crush on him, just because he was older and you figured it was normal for girls your age to have crushes on older boys. but you always thought it to be one-sided.

“what could i have done? you were my best friend’s sister,” he reiterates, emphasising on those three words this time. “little sister, may i add.”

“and tonight is when you decide to tell me.”

he shrugs, “if your brother can do whatever he wants, why can’t i? only if you want to, of course.”

you look at him for a second, studying his sharp features. eyes lingering a little too long on the opened buttons of his shirt. 

“okay,” you mumble softly, a bundle of nerves buzzing up inside you in excitement, or anxiousness—you can’t quite tell.

“yeah?” he raises his brows, scanning your face for any hint of reluctance.

“mhm, you can kiss me.”

at the sound of those words, he leans in closer to you over the console. his fingers find the tip of your jaw, tilting your head at just the right angle so he can plant a kiss on you. his lips are softer than you’d imagined, and the kiss lasts shorter than you’d expect.

he pulls back, there’s a certain softness in his eyes, “are you sure?”

rather than a verbal response, you place your hand on his neck and kiss him again. this time, neither of you pull away.

his hand rests on your waist, holding back from gripping tightly onto you.

the way his touch feels on you is exhilarating; you’ve pictured this many a time when you were in your teenage years. sneaking away from your families, going under the cover of the night sky, and kissing doyoung in his car. now that it’s finally happening, some part of you doesn’t believe it to be real.

your thumb grazes his cheek, this is all too real. his flesh is flushed with heat—either from the alcohol or from something else, you’re not too sure.

he envelopes your lips within his softly. the sounds of you kissing faintly fill the space between you.

you moan lightly as you’re pressed up against him, barely stopping to catch your breath. the kiss deepens quickly and with a sense of urgency unlike before. his hands around your waist are digging into you, pulling you as close as he possibly can to him. his fingers trail down to your hips, and then your ass, grabbing as firm a hold of you as he can with the slippery material in the way.

he grips tightly onto your leg, and lifts you up and over the console so that now you’re sitting straddling him. he does it effortlessly, as if he’s done this a million times. your dress is fanned out all over his lap.

doyoung pulls away, fingers now brushing your hair out of your face so that he can see you. it’s dark outside, the only light being that of the one mounted in the ceiling of his car. the glow falls over his features, highlighting every point of his face—his cheekbones, his cupid’s bow, his nose. you feel your heartbeat suddenly picking up.

you get the urge to say something stupid, but you hold it down for long enough that he speaks before you can.

“you really are beautiful, princess.”

you land a soft blow to his chest, “i told you to stop calling me that.”

“i can’t help it,” doyoung smirks before he presses his lips onto yours again.

you find yourself moving on top of his lap. the way he kisses you makes you crave him in his entirety. your hips drag over his crotch, slow enough that you thought he wouldn’t notice. but he does.

“you’re grinding on me,” he mumbles in between kisses.

his words only prompt you to move faster. doyoung puts both of his hands on your hips, guiding you in your movements. you think you feel something rising up underneath all those layers of chiffon.

you kiss his neck. “fuck,” he curses. “fuck, i want you so bad,” doyoung moans softly, it feels more subdued than something he’d say voluntarily.

you plant kiss after kiss all over his neck, finding a spot that elicited a groan from him when you bit him soft enough.

curses continue to fall from his lips. he hikes your dress up all the way to your thighs, his fingertips kneading and digging into your bare skin.

“i need to have you now,” he says breathily, “please.”

you couldn’t hold back a smirk, seeing how unravelled he’s already become beneath you.

you push yourself up onto your knees, fingers fidgeting with the zip of his pants in the darkness. you undo his trousers, finally revealing the extent of his desire for you. pulling his waistband away from his skin, his dick springs up red and hard.

you feel your pussy soak through your panties at the sight of it.

you only notice that you’re biting down hard into your lip moments later.

“look what you did to me,” doyoung mutters delicately. 

you pull your panties to the side, feeling the wetness on the side of your thigh. the urge to sink down entirely on his cock consumes you, you want him to fill you all the way up.

with one hand, he holds onto his base, and the other rests on the side of your leg. he lines his tip up with your slit. “fuck…” he drags the sound out, running the tip of his cock over the wetness that’s pooled all over your cunt.

you can’t bare the teasing; your patience is running thin. “just fuck me already,” you whine.

he smirks, “there she is. there’s my spoiled princess.”

with a groan, he pushes himself into you. slowly, very slowly, until he’s all the way inside you. you hold back your whines as you feel his cock fill you up inch by inch. your walls wrap tightly against him. “you feel so fucking good,” he breathes. “you okay?”

you nod. you just want him to fuck you properly, unable to think of anything else.

he slides himself out, then back in, quickly reaching a stable rhythm.

doyoung grunts softly with every thrust inside you. you find yourself looking for anything you can hold onto—a notch, a handle—just to stabilise yourself as he fucks himself into you. it feels as though you’re splitting apart on his cock, knocking gasps and moans out of you with every thrust.

“we could’ve done this so much sooner,” he mumbles in between grunts. “then, i would’ve known how fucking good your pussy feels.”

you can only let out whines and whimpers as you focus on the way his tip hits the spot inside you.

he puts his hand on your neck, his thumb pressing against your jaw. “you’re taking it so well, baby,” he caresses your face with the pad of his thumb. “such a good fucking girl.”

you hold back near cries of pleasure. your fingers find themselves in between your legs, acting as though they have a mind of their own as they begin circling your clit. it doesn’t take long before you start to feel the familiar pressure building up inside you.

“fuck, you’re getting so tight,” doyoung says breathily. “you gonna cum?”

“mhm,” you have never sounded so pathetic. nodding your head eagerly, desperate to cum with his cock slammed all the way inside you.

“do it,” he grumbles. his hips moving up into you relentlessly. “let me feel my bratty princess cum all over me.”

you feel the pressure building onto itself, until it finally boils over. you release all over his lap, body so weak that you can barely hold yourself up. you’re slumped over his shoulder as you feel your walls clamp down onto him. the noises coming from you could’ve easily been mistaken to have came from a porno.

you feel his hips still, all the way inside you. it takes you a moment to realise that he’s coming inside you. he desperately pants for air, sucking cool breaths in between his teeth. 

you feel something hot dripping out of you and down your thighs. his hips stiffen up, giving it one last thrust up into you, going deeper than he ever did.

“fuck,” he groans.

you’re feeling a little light-headed and you’re still holding onto your shoulder as if your life depends on it. you’re both panting for air, you feel his chest rising and falling alongside yours. the last wave of your orgasm still riding through your body as you feel your legs tense.

you hear a scoff, or a chuckle. 

“what?” you breathe out.

“nothing,” doyoung responds, equally as out of breath. 

you peel your body away from his, your balance still recovering. “what?” you repeat yourself with a stern gaze.

“i guess i don’t hate you as much as i’d thought after all.”

you roll your eyes. “you think us having sex one time is gonna make me not hate you?”

night lights blur into a singular entity as you speed through streets, intersections, and shortcuts. the body of your hair whipped up by the wind—you know you should be wearing a helmet, you know it full well, but you rushed out of the door tonight and simply forgot. your fingers grip onto the handles of your motorcycle even tighter as your bike accelerates even more. the stinging as wind enters your eyes is becoming nearly impossible to ignore, but you persist, knowing there's only a little bit left to go.

extending your fingers to the brake, you slowly begin to come to a halt in front of a bright white sign, flashing: open 24 hours! sat on the curb below the sign was haechan. he doesn't even wince at your abrupt appearance, no flinching at how close you stopped next to him. "took you long enough," he utters without looking up from his phone.

"that took me 7 minutes—10 at worst," you shoot back.

he gives an overtly exaggerated sigh before mumbling, "whatever," but made sure it was loud enough so you can hear. shoving his phone in his pocket, he springs to his feet, "ramen?"

after pushing your bike into the somewhat hidden employees' parking slots and resting it against the wall, you follow haechan into the convenience store.

soon enough, the two of you come out with instant ramen bowls that are hot to the touch. haechan sits back down on his spot on the curb, being careful not to spill any of the hot water onto himself and you do the same.

"so," haechan says in a tone that almost mimics an announcement. "how are you feeling?"

while in the midst of setting your bowl down next to you, a breath escapes you, nearing on the edge of a scoff. "great. thanks for asking," you put your chopsticks over the top of the foil lid of the bowl.

"really?" though you're not looking directly at him, you can picture haechan's eyebrows shooting up as he says that.

you lift your head to make direct contact with haechan's gaze. "why would i lie?"

haechan doesn't shy away from your stare, in fact, he seems to study your expression for any sign of disjointedness. after a beat or two, he resumes, "people can get nervous, you know," he breaks away from looking at you to pick up his bowl of ramen, "like most of the population does. you don't have to hide it," one of his shoulders rises as if to imitate a shrug.

using the palm of your hand, you push on his arm slightly swaying him away from you. "asshole," you mutter, evoking a muffled chuckle from haechan.

you go to take the chopsticks off of the lid and uncover the bowl; steam rises, hitting your face.

"i'm kidding," haechan chews, and then swallows impassively. "i know you have nothing to be nervous about."

"hopefully, not."

"did i suddenly shake you up or something? you sounded confident enough a minute ago."

you use your chopsticks to give your ramen a stir before bringing it up to your mouth and carefully blowing on it. "no," you say before stuffing a mouthful of noodles into your cheeks. "but who knows what will happen? like, last year, those freak accidents?"

haechan seems to give what you said a careful thought. "i think we all know they weren't just 'accidents,'" he pauses at his last word. "people always take the closing race so seriously--"

"yeah, and you know why," you jump in, one side of your mouth still full.

haechan rolls his eyes. "yeah, yeah, prize money—all that. but, they act like it's worth sabotaging other people for it."

you sit with his words for a minute. they ring a certain truth to it, but to some extent, you can also understand the motive behind the so-called "sabotage" that haechan was talking about. you were sure that you would never stoop so low—but again, you've never been put into a position where you had to cross that line.

the two of you continue wolfing down your midnight snack in prolonged silence.

"renjun asked about you the other day."

and with that simple sentence, it catches you off guard. you try your best to stifle a cough by sipping on some of the ramen broth—salty to the point that it reminds you why you shouldn't have done that. "what did he say?" despite sparing no effort to sound unaffected at the sound of his name, a waver in your voice can be heard if you paid close enough attention.

haechan finishes the remaining broth in his bowl before giving you an answer. "you know, the same old." an answer that's barely an answer.

you're unsure whether you should prod to find out more, or if you should just leave the topic here. you know what you would find out if you asked, anyway, so even though your lips opened up to respond, nothing came out of you.

"he's worried about you."

the word strikes a familiar chord within you. worry. as expected, it's nothing you didn't already know; he's always been worried.

"i'm not telling you this to try and change your mind about anything; i know you well enough to know you won't," haechan continues, "but maybe just talk to him."

"and say what?" instead of sounding defensive, your tone instead comes across as helpless, and haechan simply shrugs. "we're never going to see eye to eye on this. he wants me to stop racing. if i do now, what was it all for? if i don't win now, then everything i've done, i've done for nothing."

haechan inhales a deep breath. he lifts up his hand and lands two pats on your knee. "then, tell him that," he adjusts his body so he can get up on his feet, "the both of you are stubborn, and i don't want to play middleman anymore."

haechan stands towering over you still sat on the curb, his shadow casted over the entirety of your body. he extends a hand toward you, a sheepish grin overtaking his face and you know what he's about to ask you: "be a gentleman and give me a ride home?"

you take his hand, pulling yourself up from the ground. making sure the annoyance is visible on your face, you cock your head in the direction of your bike, "sure, i guess."

...

after dropping haechan off at his apartment, you return to yours. the rest of the night seems to pass like a blur. and before you know it, you're in front of your apartment door, trying to forcibly push it open. the door's lock has been jammed for at least a couple of months. telling your landlord would do absolutely nothing and a strong budge is good enough to get it open. so you're in front of your apartment door, putting your all into getting this damn thing to move, and it does after a few attempts.

you drag yourself inside, and once again, having to put your weight into making sure the front door is locked. in all honesty, you would up and leave here any second if you could, but you're barely making the rent on time here, so forget any wishful thinking of finding another place to stay here in the city.

plopping down on your slightly decrepit beanbag, your mind starts jumping back to the closing race. the last race of the year, where the prize is always the most considerable. this year, there's a hundred grand on the line.

maybe, wishful thinking isn't so bad, after all.

you push harder and harder onto the pedal until your toes curl. in your sight, there is nothing but the finish line. in this instance, the finish line being where haechan stood with a stopwatch in his hand. your back tyres leave skid mark after skid mark on the concrete of the desolate parking lot. you speed past where haechan stood, so fast to the point where he didn't even register in your peripheral. and you come to a stop, turning so that your vehicle is now horizontal in relation to the track. kicking open the driver's door, you step out, almost with a kick in your step. there's certainty in your head that this had to be your best time.

"how was that?" you shouted over to haechan, who was now stalking over to where you had stopped.

he waited until he had reached within an arm's distance from you to speak, "not bad—1:27.03"

you exhale a deep breath, puffing out your cheeks. "1:27's better than 1:29," you had bested your own personal record. haechan holds his hand up and you meet his gesture with your own. he gives your hand a firm shake up in the air, "good job," a slight, but sincere smile appearing on his lips.

a sudden vroom catches both of your attentions from a distance. you turn your head to the entrance of the parking lot. a black blob, somewhat resembling the shape of a motorcycle, swiftly darts from one side of your vision to the other from behind the wire fence that surrounds the lot. "who's that?" you mutter.

you've never seen anyone here before. you thought that this lot was just a deserted junkyard that happened to be of good use to you, and no other racer bothered to drive out here, and to what? to practice? they simply roamed and tyrannised the streets for that.

then again, the same shadowy figure blitz past the entrance gate, but this time in the opposite direction. "they're leaving?" haechan voices, watching the figure as attentively as you.

that's weird, you thought, who just drives into a dead end and then turns around to leave immediately?

"huh," haechan pokes his tongue into his cheek.

as if you've been reminded of something, you hastily drag your phone out of your back pocket to check the time. "shit," you mutter under your breath, "i need to get to my shift." you turn on your heels, taking strides toward your car. leaning over the driver's seat, you dig around in the bag sat in the passenger for your keys. your fingertips quickly rifle through your belongings until you feel something cold and metal. swinging your keys into the palm of your hands, you walk back over to haechan. "she's yours," the pitch of your voice going up near the end of your statement, making it sound more like a question.

"i won't hurt your baby, don't worry," haechan responds to the clear concern in your voice with a teasing smile in his eyes.

you take purposeful steps toward the entrance of the parking lot, your bike parked right next to it. sliding your helmet off of the handle, you flip it over atop your head, each action carried out with an awareness of time. without hesitation, you secure on your helmet, swing one leg over your bike, and switch on your engine. a blare erupts from behind you—haechan is already lined up for the entrance with you being his only obstacle. fighting back the urge to flash up a gesture at him, you reluctantly begin to drive off to your shift.

...

"hey," you greet your coworker, almost out of breath, as you stagger into the convenience store right on time for your shift.

"i thought you weren't gonna show up, again," she comments, clearly impatient. eagerly, she makes her way out in front of the cashier counter.

you mumble a quick apology, and she doesn't respond further. she goes into the employees' lounge to collect her stuff; two minutes later, she's back and she's clocking out without a word.

seeing as there's no one in the store right now, you enter your pin to the employees' only room. there's a small circular desk in the middle of the cramped room with two teal sofa chairs next to it. you set down your bag, your jacket, and your helmet before getting out again.

as you straighten your shirt, you start thinking about the next several boring hours you're obligated to spend in this stuffy shop as you make your way behind the counter. immediately, as if it's muscle memory, your head tilts upwards to the right side of the store where the tv is positioned. on screen, they seem to be showing some celebrity reality show that you've seen once or twice but haven't kept up with. you watch absentmindedly, counting down the hours you have left before you can go home. 8 hours. 8 hours until it's 11pm. 8 hours until you’re done. whatever made you pick the evening shift over the morning shift, anyway? now that you think about it, 7-3 seems a lot more desirable than 3-11.

as you're lost in your regretting your work decisions, the door bell chimes, snapping you back into consciousness.

a manly figure steps through, dressed in ash grey jeans paired with a brown leather jacket, visibly worn. the figure's face is covered by a jet black helmet, one similar to yours. the figure stops in front of the glass doors, gloved hands reaching up to cast off the helmet. once it's off, the man tucks his helmet into the crook of his left elbow and attempts to adjust his hair in a rather shaggy manner with his other hand.

your eyes dart outside through the glass panes; a black motorcycle.

as the man browses through the aisles lackadaisically, you try to pay him no mind, returning your gaze back to the mediocre reality tv.

he takes several minutes, walking up and down, then down and up again through the display racks, only picking something up once. then, he approaches the counter, helmet still in his arms. he sets down a bottle of water in front of you, "can i have a pack of those?" he gestures behind you, pointing to the cigarette stand. you pick out the brand he's pointing at and scan it through on the register, then repeating the same with his bottle of water.

"that'll be 8.99."

the man sets his helmet down on the edge of the counter, careful not to knock any of the gum packets on display off. his arm reaches behind him and pulls out a worn leather wallet. as he's digging through to find his card, or cash, you don't know for sure, your eyes dart back outside. "that your bike outside?"

he seems to be caught off-guard by your small talk. the man's head snaps to look at you, eyes wide, eyebrows raised, and his lips slightly ajar. "uh- yeah," he returns his attention onto his wallet. now, his fingers look to be struggling to pull a card out.

you nod your head, almost like in approval. "what model is it?" truth be told, you knew what model it was, you even knew the make. but something about the man standing before you made you want to keep talking to him, regardless of if it was small talk.

"tuono 660," basically confirming what you thought you knew, "aprilia."

he hands you his card and you take it in your hands, m. lee embossed along the bottom. you hover over the card reader until a beep sounds out. you return his card wearing a small smile on your expression, "would you like your receipt?" instinctually returning to your customer service tone.

"no... thanks," he replies, followed by a tight-lipped smile. he shoves his wallet back inside his pocket and grabs ahold of both his water and cigarettes in one hand.

"thank you," your much practiced tone and expression still dripping on each word.

the man catches your eyes for a split second, before he turns his head, then his whole body to exit the store.

a sudden eruption of laughter comes from the tv but it fades into the background of your mind. the man is now outside on the curb, pocketing his pack of cigs into his jeans before climbing onto his bike.

"haechan!" you exclaim as you push the door closed behind you. it's surprise visits like this that makes haechan sometimes regret giving you a key to his apartment. "helloo?" you call out again.

you make your way over to the kitchen island when you hear a door click. footsteps begin to shuffle on the wooden floorboards.

"yn," a curt voice speaks out.

the voice sends a sudden jolt through your body. you lift your head to see a pair of brown eyes fixated on you. "renjun," you greet him but the enthusiasm you had a second ago is now nowhere to be heard.

in your head, you debate whether you should ask how he's doing, you know, normal friendly stuff people do. would it be weird? surely not. but before you can reach a consensus in your mind, renjun cuts your thoughts off.

"haechan's in the bathroom."

your lips mimic an 'oh.' perhaps this is the one time that you regret haechan giving you his key. you purse your lips together, an "um," tumbling out of you. and now you're back to debating whether or not you should ask him about his day. seconds tick by, made evident by the clock hung up in the centre of their living room. seconds that feels like hours.

haechan bursts out from the bathroom, curses slipping past his lips. thank god, was the only thought you can form. you don't know how much more of the awkward silence you can take from renjun.

"yn! oh my god," haechan demands your attention from the other man standing right across from the pair of you.

"what?" you blurt out, unsure whether haechan's franticness is genuine, or if he heard the scene that went down before and decided to be a saving grace.

"listen!" his thumbs scroll on his phone at a rate that you're sure he can't be comprehending anything.

after waiting a few seconds for him to follow up on his eagerness and having been met with nothing, you prod a bit, "go on, then. i'm listening."

his thumbs suddenly stop, eyes scanning the lines of text rapidly on his screen. "they're saying some new kid won the league race last night." his words almost slur into one another at the pace which he is speaking with.

"...so?"

haechan must've seen the genuine confusion that's struck your face; he seems stuck in a trance-like state for a moment as he tries to register your hint of nonchalance.

"you don't get it!" he clicks his tongue and his eyes go back to his phone. "he won, by like- a lot. his time was only 3 seconds away from yours."

and that's when you begin to understand the sort of panic seeped into haechan's demeanor. in all honesty, he's acting more panicked than you are, or should be.

"what- who's telling you this?"

"people we know- it doesn't matter! what matters is they're saying he might beat you at closing this year."

you lean over to catch a glimpse of what haechan is intently looking at. your head turns to the back of the hallway leading to renjun's room, and he's not there anymore; his door shut as well. you would've said something about renjun to haechan but the both of you are rather preoccupied right now.

"there's no way," you whisper under your breath, more so to relieve your own disbelief than anything. "who is this guy?"

haechan scrolls up in the groupchat thread that he's in, until he lands on a picture sent by someone who you don't recognise. "i don't know," he clicks on the picture, zooming in. it obviously was taken with the subject being unaware of it. "they're saying his name- well, at least his racing name, is drift."

"a little on the nose, don't you think?" you mutter as your eyes study the picture haechan is showing you. the man pictured is in the distance, in the middle of taking his helmet off. dressed in an outfit you've seen before. that same brown leather jacket and the grey jeans that looks black due to the poor resolution. "i've seen him before," you admit to haechan.

his head turns to you as fast as humanly possible, "you have?"

you give him a nonchalant nod of the head, the corners of your mouth dropping down like in understanding.

"why do you not seem even a bit concerned?" haechan questions.

"should i be?" you distance yourself from haechan as you approach their fridge. maybe you should be, but humility has never been a strong virtue of yours.

haechan watches your every action carefully, even as you reach inside of his fridge to grab a cold soda into your hands. "i'm telling you, yn, this guy is good."

the league races sound exactly like the opposite of what they are. they're the smaller street races that take place right before the closing race for people to blow some steam off; kind of... take the pressure off the closing for some. point is, they're unimportant. to you, at least. which is why for as long as you've been racing, you've never attended one, to save some gas for the closing, that's what you've convinced yourself.

your fingernails dig below the tab of the can and a release pops. 'i guess i'll have to see for myself," you swig back a mouthful of sweet, bubbly soda. "when's the next league race?"

boring, boring, boring.

that's how every one of your shifts go. but you don't have a choice. well, you do. either you work, or get evicted, and it's pretty clear to you which one you prefer. the only strand of motivation you're holding onto at this point, is the fact that after you win closing, you can maybe start looking for a better job somewhere else. maybe even move out of that shitty apartment. but that's after the closing, and haechan would like to remind you that that's even if you win.

and as if scripted, the topic of debate between you and your best friend for the past few days steps through the glass doors to the convenience store. you don't know how you recognised him that quickly, you don't know why you recognised him, but you know it's him. once again. m. lee, huh. drift. you still haven't grown fond of his stage name.

today, he's wearing grey, baggy sweatpants, with the same leather jacket you've seen him in on all occasions you've seen him. he's browsing through the aisles again, with a cap obstructing your view of his face. you watch him more carefully this time than before. looking outside, no bike this time.

he walks over to the row of refrigerators situated on the left side of the store and pulls out a can of beer. his actions seemed to be performed with a certain kind of preciseness, meticulousness.

he saunters over to you, stood behind your counter.

you watch as he places the can in front of you, head down, once again, looking for his wallet. it's like you have deja vu. instead of scanning the can through, your fixation on watching his every action overrides your muscle memory.

"so, are you new 'round here?"

he looks at you through his brows, the same deer in headlights expression he wore the first time you've seen him. however, his lips quickly break into a small curve. "you're really fond of small talk, aren't you?"

you don't know what to make of his tone—half teasing, half amused, but his gaze is cold and hard, despite the smile lifting on the corners of his mouth.

"just being friendly," you break eye contact with him, a slight gratefulness twinges within you for your duties as a cashier as you go to scan his can of beer through to the system.

"well, in that case, yes. i am new around here."

you go to meet his gaze again, now with a small, satisfied grin on your own face. as subtle as you can, you scan his outfit, or what you can see of it with the counter in the way. the hems of his leather jacket washed out in colour; a lighter brown as compared to the darker shade on the sleeves. a light discolouration throughout that you can't deem whether as intentional or not. a sudden urge overtakes you.

"do you race?"

his off-guard expression is now back again, "sorry?"

"i saw your bike last time," you try to say casually, "it's modified, isn't it?"

he purses his lips tightly together, eyebrows lifted as if you caught him in a lie. then, his expression softens. "yeah, it is. you know quite a bit about bikes, i assume?"

"just a bit."

a smirk now dragging on his lips, "i'm delighted that you think i'm good enough to race." something about the way he enunciated his sentence made you pause for a split second. "so, how much?" his finger gestures toward the beer on the counter, drops of condensation beginning to pool at the base of it.

it should be here, you think to yourself as you begin to approach a rather quiet part of the city. haechan said it was going to be here. he would've went with you, like he'd said, if renjun—his roommate—wasn't conveniently out of town tonight.

you take a turn onto the main road, and sure enough, there's a crowd of people standing on the pavements on all sides of the intersection a little bit further down. indistinct murmuring begins to fill your ears. the sound of bottles hitting the concrete ground, laughter, music, all of it. as you get closer and closer, a heavy smell of smoke also enters your airways.

you approach the crowd a bit more, but keep your distance—about 6 feet away from the perimeter of the group of people. suddenly, several heads turn in your direction. the scene is unsettling, you've never seen it from this perspective. it's as if they're all being remotely controlled as more and more heads turn. they're not looking at you though but—

without warning, a car speeds past you.

speed is an understatement; it was in your peripheral vision for less than a second before it zooms off down the rest of the main street. right as the car passes you, cheers erupt from the conglomerate of people, all of them following the car's trajectory. a loud voice booms, seemingly out of nowhere.

"and there we have it! newcomer drift takes another one!"

there's a moment of stillness before another car zooms by, one that you recognise. the voice continues without missing a beat, "and revy comes in at second!"

the crowd of people all start to move up the street towards the two cars that have now slowly come to a halt up at the next intersection, their movements reminiscent of a stampede of sorts. giving into curiosity, you follow the crowd but with the same distance you kept as before.

cheer and fanfare can probably be heard from several blocks away. excited screaming strikes your eardrums, and before you can even hope that it quiets down at least a little bit, even more screaming fills the atmosphere. you tilt your head to get a better view at what everyone is cheering at. and sure enough, a familiar silhouette steps out. the man raises a palm as if to wave at the crowd of people who all cheered instantaneously louder for him the second he did so. he walks toward the crowd, and the voice booms once again all over this part of the street. you see a boy, presumably a teenager, approach the man with a mic in one hand and a speaker in the other. the boy drops his microphone as he goes to whisper something in the man's ear. of course, you can't hear anything, but you're also a bit too far to even attempt to read his lips. it's hard to say you're not intrigued by all this commotion. and for what? for the man who you've now decided frequents the convenience store you work at? you need to find out more, we'll call it researching your competition.

you cut your way through the crowd. cars are still zooming past that first intersection, which is now behind you, but no one seems to pay them any mind.

you're behind the first row of people within the crowd and you're just about to come out on the other side when a familiar face peers out from the side, startling you just a tiny bit.

"surprised you turned up," her voice is silky smooth. a too perfect beam tugging on her lips.

"minjeong," you try your best to mirror her smile right back at her. you have no energy for trivial smack talk tonight.

"i always thought you were too good for the leagues... what changed?" her charm is undeniable. the expression on her face still as polite as ever, but you know better than to assume what you can see.

"nothing, just wanted a change of scenery."

before minjeong replies, someone else steps in to join your conversation. "come on, we have to go," they don't seem to be addressing you. you do them the favour of letting yourself fade into the background as your eyes search again for man you've been focused on prior. at that second, the two of you stare directly at each other. you force yourself to look away but you can't, it's like there's a magnetic field surrounding just the two of you. he turns his head away first, refocusing his attention to the teenage boy who is still stood next to him.

"we'll see you around, yn," minjeong waves goodbye to you but instead of rotating her wrist, she flutters her fingers lightly. her words spoke with such careful calculation, and yet her voice as sweet as honey. you eke out a small, courteous smile; no point in calling her out on her bullshit tonight.

as you're watching minjeong and her friend walk off into an alley, someone else is headed towards you. you don't notice until you turn your head and-

"so, we're stalking now?" he stands a little bit taller than you, a glimmer in his eyes as he's staring down at you. this man is an enigma. how could he come off as shy one second back at your work, and here, he's completely charismatic. must be in his element.

the people around you seems to take notice of the pair of you, or maybe just him, but you've grown used to scenes like this; it's not like you've never been to a race before where there's an attractive racer that everyone seems to go weak in the knees for.

"you flatter yourself," you can't hold back the urge to bat your lashes—just once—at him.

"if i didn't know better, i would think so," he drags his words out one by one. his response causes you to wrinkle your brows, not sure what to say to that, which earned a light chuckle out of him. "you think i don't know who you are?" a playfulness ringing in his tone. is he teasing you right now? had he known this whole time?

"how did you-?"

a chorus of voices flare up in the middle of the crowd. you turn on your heels to see people running off in every direction. suddenly, the same teenage boy from before is propped up on others, shouting out, "someone called the cops!"

immediately, you turn back around. you can feel a firm grasp on your wrist pulling you in the direction of the alley that minjeong and her friend walked into earlier. for a second, you're stood still where you are, the panic of everyone else around you freezes you to the spot. then, you hear a "come on!" from the man holding your wrist, and before you know it, you let yourself get hauled away in midst of the chaos into leather jacket man's car.

wordlessly, he starts his engine and speeds off into... you don't know where, yet, but far enough away from where the gathering was. once the two of you are at enough distance away from the race, he starts decelerating, but shows no indication that you will be stopping any time soon. you look over to the driver's seat, his gaze is fixated on the road ahead and you're not sure whether you should make conversation.

you sit in silence for about 5 minutes as you watch out of the window. you can tell that you're getting further and further away from the centre of the city, and in fact, you're nearing the beach that runs along the coast.

it wasn't long until you turn into the parking lot, and finally, come to a stop. he unclicks his seatbelt, provoking you to do the same. he flips the handle on his door and gets out, still without a word. you watch as he zips up his jacket, stuffs his hands into his pockets, and crouch slightly to look at you through his windows. he tilts his head in the direction of the beach which you took as a signal to get out of the car as well.

as soon as you step out onto the tarmac parking lot, a cool evening breeze sweeps right past you. with the wind caught up in your hair, you clasp your hands together to gain some warmth. leather jacket man is already headed for the shoreline, a lax pattern in his steps, making it easy for you to catch up to him.

"congratulations," you break the silence once you're at the side of him. he looks at you, and you continue walking down the beach. "for winning leagues tonight," you follow up.

he stops walking. when you peer back at him, you're met with the same playful expression that was on his face back at the race. "thanks," a glint reflected in his teeth. "sorry about... dragging you back there," he bends at his waist, and then sits down on the soft sand shimmering under the moonlight.

you take a step towards him, and then decide to join him on the ground. your fingers sink into the sand as you're setting yourself down. waves lap over and over at the shoreline, the body of the ocean twinkling under the void of stars up above.

"so you knew, huh?" you grab a handful of sand and delicately let it fall off your fingers.

he extends his legs and leans back on his hands that rested behind his torso. "how could i have not?" an air of confidence interweaved within his voice. you turn your head towards him, and he looks to be biting back a cocky smirk, "gotta know your enemies, right?"

you're not sure which part of his sentence you should address. "know?" what does he know about you? and it didn't register within you that he saw you as an enemy, as a threat before.

"alright, then, since you know so much about me, it's my turn to ask you something." you dust off the sand on your hands and reposition yourself so that your body faces him—your legs criss-crossed with each other.

"shoot."

"what's your name?"

he gives you a suspicious look; a slight tug at his lips and furrowed brows. he pushes himself off one hand to lean in closer towards you, "well, did you not hear the announcer? i think he said my name pretty loud and clear when i passed that finish line."

you roll your eyes, seriously considering the idea of shoving sand down his throat so he could stop with his mockery. "do you know mine?"

without missing a beat, he replies, "yn."

"so what's yours?"

he looks straight at you, a face full of careful consideration, before he gives in. "mark," a smile plastered on his face that you can't describe as other than 'dorky.'

you repeat his name under your breath, attention now back to the sand between the two of you.

a brief minute passes by as you two listen to the ocean's waves rippling quietly.

"i'm guessing it was you that day at the junkyard?" mark asks.

and so the puzzle completes itself in your mind, "you say that like i'm invading in on your space." a sudden gust of wind blows past you, sending a chill down your spine.

"it was my uncle's," mark hangs his head back, directing his gaze at the stars. "i'd recently just moved back so i didn't know it'd be empty. or that you'd be there." you watch mark watch the stars.

"what happened to it being your uncle's?"

mark's adam's apple dips as he gulps down a swallow. "he'd passed, not too long ago."

"oh..." you return to fidgeting with the sand under your fingertips, "i'm sorry for your loss."

"it happens," mark exhales a deep breath. you feel there's a change in conversation coming with the way he's readjusting his shirt, pulling down on its hem poking out from underneath his jacket. "anyway. you down to help me practice tomorrow?"

your eyebrows shoot up, not just at the sudden change in topic, but at his request, "help? you practice?" it's almost laughable.

"i mean, yeah," he shrugs, "the enemy of your enemy is a friend, right? we have plenty of shared enemies."

as promised, you show up the next day up at the parking lot that you're pretty sure you would've went to anyway regardless of if mark asked you to or not. after all, closing's in a week and you need to get whatever amount of practice in that you can.

sure enough, mark is already there. you park your car right at the entrance gate and you step out to see him controlling his vehicle expertly. at every turn, he steers sideways with a precision that's unrivalled to anything you've ever seen in person. his front wheels pointed in the opposite direction of his turn as the back tyres glide on the cement as if it was ice—a screech can heard as a result.

he begins to pick up his pace again and drive in your direction, his focus seemingly entirely on the front of your car. he wouldn't. it's not that you trust him, but he wouldn't put himself in a danger like that, would he?

and before he reaches the point where it'd be too late for him to swerve, he carries out another one of his perfectly controlled, drifted turns, stopping with his driver's side window facing right at you. you stand unflinching and notice that his window is rolled all the way down.

"flashy," you voice, "going for style points, are we?"

he juts his head out of his window. cheekily, he suggests, "you down for a race?"

not being one to back down, you agree. mark points to a spot in the middle of the parking lot and you get back into your car to follow him. you pull up right next to where mark is, rolling down your passenger's window so you can communicate with him. "how does a lap sound?"

"sounds good to me," mark smirks back at you.

you turn your head to face the vastness of the empty lot in front of you. mark counts down out loud from 3. you press down on the gas pedal, revving your engine. 2. your hand reaches for the gear stick. and 1. both of you shoot off into the distance, and unexpectedly, you're neck in neck with him. you push on harder on the pedal, gaining you a little bit of ground, which mark makes up for without hesitation.

the remainder of this little mock race carries on like this. you earn the lead for 2 seconds, then mark takes it back. then you're in the lead again, and... not anymore. as you're close to finishing your lap, you can tell you're just the tiniest bit behind mark. so, in a last ditch effort, you step on your pedal to the fullest, as hard as you can, allowing you to surpass him the most you have so far, and just as you're about to pass the finishing point again, you can see mark catching up to you. and like that, both of you have crossed into the second lap. it's impossible to tell which one of you took the lead at the end with just the naked eye.

mark's car comes to a slow.

you'd be lying to yourself if you said there wasn't even the slightest hint of frustration within you. no one has ever been that close to you before. sure, when you were just starting out. but not now. not when you've earned yourself the title of being known as the best in this city. needless to say, you're pissed. but not at mark.

you throw your head back onto the headrest, sighing a deep sigh.

mark makes his way around to your side of the vehicle. he rests one hand on the roof of your car and the other on his hip. "was that just a practice for you, or...?" a light pant in his voice.

"don't get cocky now." you gesture for him to back up. flinging open your door, you step out, pulling on the muscles of your traps as you stretch your neck.

he takes a single step closer to you. now he's standing a little too close for comfort, close enough that you can smell the woody notes of his cologne. "that take a lot out of you?"

"you got lucky, that's all." his gaze on you is unwavering, only moving away from your eyes to study the other parts of your face.

"i did, didn't i?" you catch his eyes flicker between yours and your lips.

an unsettling feeling sparks in the pit of your stomach. slowly, mark brings his hand up to your face. with his index finger, he traces from the back of your jawline to your chin. at the slight of his touch, you can feel a shiver running down you.

you can feel his warmth emanating off of him. bit by bit, he closes the gaping distance between the two of you. mark places his thumb on the other side of your jaw, gently guiding your face towards his.

but, something in you tells you to stop. stop whatever he's doing, stop yourself from giving into whatever he's doing.

you place a hand on his chest, met with the cold, harsh leather of his jacket. you drop your head, so that you're not facing him directly.

"i think..." at your words, mark releases the gentle hold he had on you and shuffles a step or two away from you. he clears his throat.

"i'm..." mark shuts his eyelids for a moment, "i'm sorry," his hands seem to begin to gesture something before he puts them in his pockets.

"no, no," you feel a slight shake of your head. a sudden train of thoughts rush through your mind. "i think i should go."

mark seems to mutter a small "yeah," as he backs away from your car.

...

"haechan, open your damn door right now," you call out as you're knocking so hard on haechan's bedroom door that it's sure to give out after another minute.

"i'm coming! i'm coming," you hear his voice from the other side. "god, you don't have to come breaking down my apartment every time; phones exist for a reason, y'know?" the handle twists and his door swings open.

your heart is practically pounding out of your chest. you had so much to tell him that you don't even know where to start. haechan stare at you blankly, "so, speak."

"mark! mark fucking lee-"

"sorry- is this someone that i'm supposed to know?"

you're pacing up and down the hallway of haechan's apartment, "yes! you do know him, it's that guy! that drift guy from the leagues."

"you're on first name basis with him?" he questions with a grin on his face that you know too well.

"it's not like that!" you take a pause in pacing, "i don't know, maybe it's like that- i just- ugh!"

haechan exhales and steps out of his doorway. he closes his door behind him, and begins to shuffle you towards the kitchen. "slow down, take a seat," he points at the kitchen stool, "you want a drink?"

"what- no, just listen!"

"i am, i am," haechan proclaims as he goes to grab a glass bottle of beer in the middle of the island as he sits on the stool facing you. "go on, then."

you tell him that you met mark—drift—back at the league race that he was supposed to go to with you the other night. then, about how mark took to you the beachside for whatever reason afterwards. then, today, you were racing him and he was about to kiss you? now that you're regurgitating all this information, you couldn't even wrap your head around it.

"but he was good, haechan, you were right."

"you should say that more often," haechan takes a sip of his beer.

"bro, if he beats me at closing..." your shoulders deflate at the thought. you hadn't even considered this possibility of losing until mark showed up out of nowhere.

haechan forcefully sets his bottle down on the hard counter. "you're tweaking. like, actually," a chuckle comes out with his words. what he's saying doesn't seem to be resonating with you, so he tries to go another approach, "look, listen, i know i was worried before but, i know your skillset, yn. there's no way some guy can just come in and beat you."

you try to convince yourself into believing what haechan is telling you, but rationally, you know that today's race proved to be way too close. "no, but, that kiss as well- that almost kiss. what am i supposed to make of that?"

haechan leans his elbows onto his knees. "isn't it obvious? he's distracting his competition," he goes to wrap his fingers around the base of the bottle, "and look at you; it's working, isn't it?"

you sigh. you hated how logical haechan's reasoning for it was. surely, that was it, it's stupid to think it was anything more, right?

"so, what do i do?"

haechan takes you in for a second. a devious smirk begins to appear on his face. you know that whatever he's about to say, you won't like it.

"you show him..." he points the neck of the beer bottle at you, "...that two can play that game."

you sit in silence staring at haechan for a moment—he looks like he expected to be applauded for such a genius idea. "okay... and how the hell do i do that?"

"revy's party, tomorrow night. we're going."

you step through into a dimly lit kitchen, it's floor sticky with who knows what. it's been less than 24 hours since haechan suggested the two of you attend a party thrown by another one of your racing rivals. less than 24 hours since you've gone back on your word, claiming to yourself that you will never attend a party like this. and the reasoning is right in front of your eyes: a cramped room filled with people you don't know, music so loud that it penetrates inside of your skull making your brain physically vibrate, and not to mention the lack of actual food? there's no way you can survive on cheap liquor and cheese puffs all night. and thinking about tomorrow makes it all the worse.

and that's why when haechan first proposed this idea to you, you were dead set on denying it. "no," you'd said, "absolutely not." his genius idea turned out to be voluntarily putting yourself in uncomfortable social situations? added with the fact that it's the night before closing?

"what other option do you have?" haechan had asked.

and you supposed he was right. you had no other choice. you had tonight, and only tonight, to really play your cards right.

so, that's why you're here, in the kitchen of someone's house—whose, you didn't know. haechan steps through with you right at your side. you're scanning through the heaps of people, some drinking, some making out, some straight up dry humping on each other. truly a stereotypical scene that looks as though it came straight out of a coming of age movie.

and you spot him. just like haechan had said, he's here.

mark stands all the way across the kitchen, preoccupied talking to a girl. you haven't seen her before, and you certainly haven't seen the pair of them together before. cups in both of their hands, they seem to be chatting, enjoying each other's company, and you turn the plan you had come up with together with haechan over in your head.

finding yourself stuck in a rut—luckily one that's shallow enough—you tap haechan on his arm, then gesture toward the beverage table. the both of you approach it but neither giving in to the giant bowl of red punch in the centre of it. the kitchen floor was sticky, the air is sticky, you don't want to think about the implications of what could be in this bowl. you reach out to grab a can of beer, and haechan follows. "i spotted him," you tell haechan, not necessarily speaking carefully because if you did, he wouldn't hear you over the booming of the house music that's being played.

"yeah?" he takes a swig of his room-temperature beer. "you know what to do then?" he lifts a brow at you, and when you respond with an expression that told him 'yes' no matter how hesitantly, he snapped you a quick wink, and did a 180 heading for another cramped room in the house.

for the next several minutes, you're stood by the bar, back facing the rest of the party downing gulps after gulps of canned beer. you don't feel it doing much aside from warming you up a little bit. you're about to reach for a second one, when a figure steps into your peripheral.

you try to discreetly figure out who the person is standing next to you, but the moment you caught a glimpse of his face, you knew.

mark wanted to break the ice by saying something witty, but... was that appropriate after your last encounter?

"you're a... big fan of the beer, i'm guessing?" he remarks as he's observing your hands; one holding an empty can, and the other reaching out for a new can.

"it's not as bad as i thought," you respond curtly.

as you're pulling back the tab on the new can, you think to yourself. if you want to make this plan work, you've got to kill the awkward tension. and so, your mind jumps to the only topic you can think of.

"who's that girl you were talking to?"

mark seems to be surprised; were you asking him? after a brief moment of silence, a recognition slips out of him, "oh," he shrugs, "she was just saying how she always wanted to race and, stuff like that." he seemed to have caught himself rambling, and stopped before he went on any further.

"sounds like she was hitting on you," you shoot a quick look in his direction as you take a small chug from your can.

he gently shakes his head, eyes fixed on the bottle clasped between his hands, "no, she was just being friendly."

"mh," you're watching mark now. "so, not another one of your conquests?"

mark truly looks puzzled, if he's not, then he's doing great acting like he is with that expression on his face. you can practically read his internal monologue at this very second: what are you talking about?

"i'm not... picking up on what you're saying, exactly."

you have to turn this around somehow. but how? in your mind, this is already botched. go home, you ruined it.

"i just..." you set down your can on the table in front of you. one thing that obnoxiously loud house music is good for is filling in the spaces of silence as you think about what to say next to him. "i guess, i'm just thinking about the other day."

at this moment, you piqued mark's interest. he looks at you with a glint in his eyes. "about that," he turns his body to face you, "look, i'm so sorry- i didn't mean to misread the situation and-"

"you didn't."

mark's lips are still left slightly parted, frozen from his last words. confusion strikes him again.

"i'm sorry- you didn't," for whatever reason, you can't look into his eyes, but you continue anyway, "just in that moment, it was so..."

the bass had been booming since the moment you stepped foot into this house but right at that second, it blared even louder—you didn't even know that that was possible. you can physically feel your heart in your chest jumping each time it thundered.

mark wears an agitated expression from this sudden change in atmosphere, and now, you practically had to yell out to even hear another person standing a foot away from you.

he gestured toward the window outside, mouthed something along the lines of, "wanna head out?" and you followed. mark grabs ahold of your hand, leading you through the horde of sweaty, sticky people until he finally pulls you outside. though, you're not completely free from the roaring bass, you can at least rest your ear drums for a bit.

mark exhales, air puffing up his cheeks. "you were saying?" he turns his gaze towards you, and it strikes you as the perfect time now.

your features twist in a manner of disarray—"i think i have a headache from that whole... situation." you press the inner wrist of your right hand up against your temple.

mark takes one step closer towards you, "are you alright?" he tilts his head to get a better look of your expression.

"yeah, i think i just need to get somewhere quiet," you wave the concern in his voice away.

"do you want me to take you home?"

for a second, you would've agreed, but then you thought back, and you don't think your apartment's in any state to be seen right now.

you give a brief shake of your head, wrist still pinned to your temple. "no, not right now," you say, hoping that he wouldn't ask for an elaboration.

"um, i can take you to my place if you don't mind?"

not wanting to give away too much of your act, you agree hesitantly. "is that alright with you?"

"yeah, of course," and he leads you to his car.

he'd insisted on you waiting out where you were so that you didn't have to walk all the way to his car, but he also didn't feel right about making you wait on your own, so he guided you to where he'd parked, each of his steps designed to match your pace.

...

the ride to his place was quiet, but not uncomfortable. it was a quick drive, but even so every now and then he would look over to make sure you're not too out of it.

he unlocked the door to his apartment, and it was beautiful to say the least; much more kempt than yours. it was mainly one big room with the bathroom tucked away somewhere in the corner. floor to ceiling windows lined the walls facing the entrance door and his bed laid in the centre of the room, facing the windows with a view of the cityscape.

you drag your feet inside, trying to hide at least some bit of your awe.

mark's voice snaps you out of it a little, "do you want some water? anything?"

"i don't mean to have you take care of me," you look back at mark, a tiny spark of guilt igniting within you.

"it's just water, yn," he chuckles as he goes to grab a glass off of his drying rack and pours you some water. "if you want you can rest a bit in my bed."

you're not sure what it is, but it's like you're seeing another version of mark; another side to him. his generosity takes you by surprise and as you take the glass from his hands, wanting to extinguish that guilt, drinking from it only makes the flame grow stronger.

you're stood by the counter, him being only a few steps away from you. the kitchen lights are off, the entirely of his apartment dimly lit with ambience lighting being the only sources of light.

you watch mark's face. the parts of it that are in light, and the other parts that are in shadow. his lips are illuminated by the light along with the right side of his face. maybe the alcohol has gotten to you, or maybe it's your raw, unfiltered desire, but you reach out with the back of your fingers and gently caress the sunken plane under his cheekbone. he seems to melt at even a trace of your touch. he takes ahold of your hand with his, and brings it down.

you take half a step closer towards him, eyes lingering on his.

"what are you doing?" he whispers breathily, eyelids fluttering.

you lean in the slightest bit closer, eyes focused on mark's lips and that was all the invitation mark needed to press his lips onto yours.

he's slow, and gentle. he takes your lips into his with a softness you hadn't expected. one hand goes to cup your face and the other wraps around your waist, pulling you closer into him. he savours every second that your lips are on his, and every time they part, he would go in deeper so as to not forget the taste of your lips on his tongue.

he kisses you with a deep, deep hunger. his hands, too. they roam every inch of your back, pulling you into him as close as you possibly can be until your chests are pressed against each other. you go to wrap your arms tightly around his neck, fingers tangled in his hair, and it's still not enough. you need to breathe him in as if he is the very oxygen that your life depended on.

he pulls away with a smack from your lips. panting heavily, he begins to breathe out, "do you-?"

"yes." whatever he would've said, you knew you wouldn't have denied him.

"are you sure you want this?" he asks again, still breathing heavily with his chest rising and falling against yours.

you give a quick nod of your head, "just kiss me again."

and so he does. mark devours your lips with a newfound lustfulness; pressing onto your lips a little bit harder than before, even biting down on your bottom lip, eliciting a curse out of you.

his hands slide all the way down to your thighs, and he grips tightly onto them as he lifts you up to around his hips. you wrap your legs around him, without breaking away from your kiss. you can feel the two of you moving, but your eyes remain shut.

mark once again pulls back from you, eyes looking right through you with a need to devour. he drops you onto his bed but his hands stays on you. one of them runs up... and then down the underside of your thigh. you're leering at him, desperate for him to touch you more, explore you more, and he can tell.

he kneels down, hands still gripping onto your thighs, and he pulls you closer to the edge of the bed. he pushes your legs open, making space for himself in between your thighs. "take this off for me, baby," he utters quickly, impatiently, as he taps on your upper thigh, veiled by the thin fabric of your skirt.

you respond not with words, but with the speed of which the skirt is stripped off of you—eager to please, eager to be pleased.

his fingertips settle into a crook on either sides of your upper thigh as he's pulling you closer to him. you can feel his breath sticking to your skin. every second that he's not touching you, you're aching. the tip of his tongue glides over your panties and you shudder at his movements. you're growing more and more impatient with his obvious teasing as the desire within you becomes harder and harder to fulfil. "fuck, mark," you curse him for purposefully not removing the barrier standing in between you and pleasure. you hear him chuckle, and a word from you is enough to get him to oblige, for now. he pushes the fabric of your panties to the side, baring your slit on full display for him.

"god," he breathes out, and you can feel his breath fan out on your pussy. and in a second, his tongue is licking circle after circle over your clit, exploring between your every fold. he's losing himself in eating you out. he can't help but groan against every buck of your hip, and every time, it sends vibrations that seep into your skin. "you taste so fucking good," he mumbles out. in between the insatiable movements of his tongue against your cunt, he would plant soft kisses onto your folds—the contrast of it all driving you absolutely crazy.

a mixture of his drool and you is running down his chin, but that's nowhere near enough to stop him. the thought of having you dripping down him turns him on even more. your hands are grabbing at fistfuls of mark's hair. with a single swirl of his tongue, you suddenly jerk too hard and he moans against the fiery sensation pulling on his scalp. you try to fight against the urge to push him deeper into you, both of your arms and legs shaking at this point.

as you begin to feel a clench in your stomach, mark uses his hand to separate your legs that are threatening to close together, "keep your legs open for me, baby." you try and try, but you can't help the pressure that's building between your thighs. you bite down on your lip, trying not to let mark hear any of the embarrassing moans and cries you would want nothing but to let out. and just as you're so close to your orgasm, mark takes his tongue off of you.

he stands up again, using the back of his hand to wipe his chin.

"what the fuck-?" you bite out. a bit dazed, but you know enough that that wasn't the release you wanted.

mark coos at you with feigned sympathy, "aw, poor baby." he plants one palm onto the mattress as he leans in, hovering over you. "don't you want to taste yourself on my lips?"

you pull yourself out of your haze, latching your lips onto his. his thumb drags along your jawline. mark hums against your kiss, "you turn me on so goddamn much." he climbs over you, his entire body hovering over yours, and your hands grip at his waist before flipping him under you. he looks surprised, a delighted smirk drips on his mouth. "you had that in you the whole time?"

you reply brusquely, "lose the shirt already," not up for any more teasing tonight.

"bossy," he utters, but complies without hesitation.

you place your hands directly on top of the waistline of his jeans, positioning yourself so that you're sat directly on top of the bulge in his pants. a tiny moan escapes you. mark watches you with a satisfaction glistening in his eyes, "can you feel how hard i am for you?"

you would grind down on his bulge until you gave yourself the release that he owed you if it weren't for the roughness of his jeans. frustrated, you moved yourself further down his lap and impatiently worked the zipper on his pants, pulling them down until his hard cock sprung up hot and red. you ignore the watering in your mouth at the sight of his dick, too eager to feel it inside you.

you wrap your fingers around his cock along the base of it, giving it a tiny squeeze before you slide your hand up his shaft. mark watches with a furrow in his brow and grumblings stuck in his throat. he doesn't want to take his eyes off of you for even one second. you give his cock a few more strokes, so, so painfully slow, though. then, using just your middle and ring finger, you run it up on the side of his dick, reaching the tip, and you drag small little circles over on top of it—spreading his precum all over. mark breathes out a repeated string of curse words as you begin to apply more pressure to his head.

holding back a sly smirk, you take your hand away from mark. you get up on your knees, still straddling him, and you extend your hand out in front of mark's face. "spit on it."

he follows your words without even having the chance to think about challenging you. he is so, so eager to please you. you bring your hand with his spit up to your own chest and you do the same. you smear the two of you all over his cock, applying more pressure with each stroke now than before. his hands goes to grip tightly on your hips, fingertips already digging into your flesh.

you position yourself so that you're hovering directly over mark's big, hard cock, twitching under you. reaching under you, you can feel the tip of his erection resting against your cunt. you drag your hips in a back and forth motion, sliding his head up and down your slit. mark throws his head back, groaning and whining, "fuck, baby- please." you have to admit, the sight of him absolutely unravelling under you is the sexiest fucking thing you've ever seen. "please, please, please," he blurts out a few more pleads..

"what do you want me to do, huh?"

"please, just ride me," he mumbles, words just tumbling out of his mouth at this point. and who are you to deny such a polite request?

you sink down on mark's cock, with each inch you can feel your core beginning to shake. the two of you moaned and groaned with a shared pleasure. a gasp whacks itself out of you as you fully sit down on his cock, taking every inch of him.

mark bites down on his lip, pleasure overriding him, "look at that." he throws his head back, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth, "you're taking all of me." his hand palming over your ass in a way that you can tell he wants to just pick you up and bounce you on his cock.

you start moving your hips gently, still letting yourself adjust to his size. with every whimper that you let out, mark goes absolutely crazy—he wanted to hear you, he wanted that so badly.

and deciding that he needed more, his hands goes to lift your hips up from him and he pins you back down underneath him. his erection now rested atop your thigh, dragging over your skin as he goes to whisper in your ear, "you tell me if it's too much, okay?" you nod, eyes lingering on each other.

he looks downwards, aligning himself with your entrance. he doesn't waste any more time and-

"fuck!"

you cry out, with the first thrust of his hips into you. mark stops and watches your expression for a second before he rams his hips into you again.

he picks up the pace, hips smacking into yours at a steady rhythm. the sloppiness of the two of you filled the room with the melodies of your moans.

"shit, baby," disjointed thoughts fell out of his mouth one after another, moans peppered throughout. as he thrusted himself in and out of you, all he could do was whisper next to your ear how good you felt.

as he kept on thrusting into you, it wasn't long before you can feel that pressure building up again. "fuck, i'm so close," you pant out breathily to mark.

"yeah?"

he pounds into you even harder and harder, making you want to scream out his name but you fight against it.

"don't hold back, baby," he grunted, "i want you to get fucking loud for me."

however embarrassing the noises you made were, you didn't care anymore. you just wanted to feel good with mark's cock dragging in and out of you and you wanted him to know how fucking good it felt. you moan out, alternating between 'fuck,' his name, and pure cries of ecstasy. you slither your hand down in between you two, rubbing violent circles on your clit just so you can reach that orgasm you so badly wanted faster.

you can feel your core tightening around mark. you try to tell him but your mind is gone, only leaving behind unintelligible moans.

"you gonna cum for me?" mark teased, his hips still ramming into you at the same pace, "come on, then. cum on my cock, baby."

even at the slight of his request, you begin to fall apart. your muscles tensing up, fingertips digging into his back and your head thrown back as you reach your orgasm. you scream out in pleasure.

"that's it, baby- good girl," mark's hips are still thrusting into yours, though at a slower pace, fucking you through your orgasm. "god," he looks down to see you clenching around him so tightly that it propels him into his own orgasm. "oh, fuck- i'm gonna cum-"

and just as he does, he pulls himself out of you as he shoots his load all over your stomach. still coming down from the high of your own orgasm, you feel an aching void now in between your legs. mark grunts and collapses his head into the crook of your neck, trying to steady his breath as he milks all the cum out of him onto you.

the air is sticky between you two, heavy breathing filling the silence. mark flops onto his bed next to you, one hand covering his forehead.

"are you okay?" he looks over at you.

"yeah," you breathe out, catching your breath.

"good," he mutters as he reaches out to cup your face in his hand. "come here," he pulls the two of you closer on the bed. then, he returns to kissing you ever so gently, his fingers on the back of your neck and his thumb resting in front of your ear. "let's get you cleaned up."

...

you're sitting on mark's bed in a fresh new t-shirt that he gave you, drinking from the glass of water that he also gave you. mark is in the bathroom, cleaning himself off.

now that the heat of the moment's gone, you're not too sure what just happened. what does this all mean? because believe it or not, your original plan with haechan did not include jumping mark's bones.

mark walks out of the bathroom, sweatpants on with a thin white tee. he throws a towel over his shoulder, his hair wet from his shower. you watch as he walks over to his kitchen to grab another glass of water for himself.

he approaches the bed—you—and truly, you did not know if you should address some of your concerns with him. so, what are we? or is this a one time thing? you should've known that this would make you spiral.

he sits down right next to you after setting down his glass on his bedside table. "are you sure you're okay?"

to be met with a consideration like that shocked you a little, when you yourself didn't even think to ask him that. "yeah, why wouldn't i be?" you try to dismiss his worry and concern.

"you just looked a little shaken up- that's all." he watches you for a moment longer before turning his head. you look over at the clock on top of his bedside table: 11:17pm. it's still not too late, you can go home if you wanted, to run away from the consequences of your own actions, but what then? you're still going to see mark tomorrow at the closing race, and leaving now would just make everything the more awkward.

as if he read your mind, mark voices out, "stay the night," he's not looking at you as he says this, "stay with me," but now he is. his hand reaches over and clasps over the back of your hand, giving it a tiny squeeze.

you were about to protest, "don't you know what tomorrow is?" but of course he knew. so instead, you mumble out a fragile, "okay."

he crawls into bed, lifting up his covers, and he pats on the space next to him. taking that as a signal, you set the glass in your hands on your side of the bedside table, and slide in underneath the covers next to him. you pull the sheets up over your shoulders, head laying half on the pillow, half on mark's chest. mark wears a silver necklace with a cross pendant hanging from it. as he's laying down, that pendant droops down the top of his chest sliding along its chain, sitting right in front of your eyes.

you rest your hand over mark's heart, feeling every thump underneath your palm. mark breathes out loud, then he plants a kiss on your head. your fingertips fidget with his pendant.

"can i ask you something?"

mark looks down at you playing with his necklace, "sure."

"why did you start-?" you take the pendant in between your thumb and your pointer finger and you flip it over so the right side is facing you. "...racing?"

you thought you'd knew what was not the answer: money. living in a place like this—no doubt it wasn't cheap.

mark hums. he shifts his body so that he's now laying on the back of his head on top of his hand. "i like it," he drawls.

you tilt your head up to look at him, without a word, saying that's it?

he continues, "my uncle used to do it." he has one arm wrapped around you and you begin to feel a gentle tapping on your shoulder from his fingers. "it's something i can do to remember him by."

before he even lets you contemplate what to say to that that's not "i'm so sorry for your loss," again, he reflects the question back onto you.

"what about you?" he tucks his chin inwards, looking at you lying on his chest. "tell me about your big goals and ambitions," you can tell he's trying to lighten the mood with the way his voice carried an airiness to it.

"mmh, i like it as well," you say, "and it'd be nice to not have to rely on working at that convenience store." you catch yourself in an unexpected moment of unbridled honesty.

you didn't mind it so much—mark. you didn't mind telling him more about yourself; something about being in his arms made you feel like the world was small, and only the two of you are in it.

"for what it's worth, you're my favourite cashier," mark smiled a skittish smile.

"how many cashiers do you know?"

"two."

"i guess i'll take that."

NEW YEAR'S EVE, 10AM

you wake up the next morning with an ache in your neck. you raise your head from mark's chest from the night prior. he's asleep.

as quietly as you can, you slide your body out of mark's bed. as soon as you're up on your feet, the scent of mark's cologne hits you—his shirt.

immediately, you get to scavenging for your clothes that got strewn all over the apartment last night in a frenzy. haechan had given you something the night before, and you hid it in the pocket of your skirt—where is it?

you spot your skirt on the floor. you kneel on the floor, hands patting down every panel of the fabric, fingers dipping into every crevice. and then you feel it. something soft, but not like the softness of the skirt. you pull out a carefully folded square of tissue paper. you grip the tissue tightly in your hands, crumpling the square.

you pull your clothes up from the floor and quickly change back into them, shedding out of mark's t-shirt that you toss onto his bed.

tissue still in your hand, your head snaps toward mark—lying there, still asleep. then, your attention turns to the glass next to him. it was half full last night, now it's filled up again. he must've refilled it in the middle of the night.

you look back in your hand. then, at his glass. you close your fingers tightly, folding the tissue paper into itself, and you can feel two distinct pellet shapes pressing into your palm through the paper.

there's no way you can even contemplate this, right?

you recall your conversation with haechan just the previous night, before all of this happened:

"you want me to-?"

"no. whatever you're gonna say- no. well..."

"this is insane," you remembered exclaiming in the living room of haechan's apartment.

"2's barely enough to knock him out, much less kill him," haechan started to sound unhinged trying to rationalise this idea to you. "he'd just be too out of it, he won't show up to closing tomorrow, and boom. you're winning, guaranteed."

your mouth is agape, mind completely blank. there's no way you're willing to drug someone for a race. you may not be the most humble, yes, but being immoral?

haechan seems to have given up trying to convince you, "look, just take it with you. whether you use it or not, it's up to you."

and now you're staring at your closed palm, shocked that you're even hesitating to up and leave right now, when you're given the chance.

they're just sleeping pills. you can hear your thoughts merge with haechan's rationale.

no, no, no, no, no. you have to leave.

you have to leave right now, before doing something you're going to regret.

you contemplated throwing the pills away still wrapped up in the tissue here, at mark's place. but if he finds them, what is he going to think? so, you shove it back inside of the pocket of your skirt, rush to grab whatever you'd taken here with you last night, and hurried off.

...

luckily enough, mark didn't live too far away from where haechan lived, and as you make your way out of the lobby, you can recognise where you are in the city.

you walk the few blocks it takes to get to haechan's place.

bright and early, you knock on his door for once—you didn't bring his key with you last night.

you wait outside for a minute or two, before deciding to knock again. this time, calling out for his name as well.

then, an alert pings through on your phone. a text. from haechan

'you're scaring my hookup.'

before you can type out a response, haechan appears in front of you as his apartment door swings open.

"so, where's the hookup?" you step in, making sure your voice is loud and clear—you know haechan too well.

"she climbed out the window, she was so scared," haechan yawns. his hair messy and his glasses slanted on his nose bridge. "so, what happened?"

you draw out the crumpled piece of tissue from your pocket and hold it up like you're putting it on display for him.

"i knew you weren't going to do it—i'm talking about your outfit. you clearly didn't go home last night... what happened?"

oh, you thought, shit. maybe you should've changed first before coming here. now you have to come up with a logical cover-up, or tell haechan the truth of what happened—you don't know what's worse.

"i guess... i was the hookup who climbed out the window or something, i don't know," you mutter under your breath, trying to shrug it off nonchalantly but you can see haechan's jaw drop.

"oh, my god, yn," a sense of pride booming through in his tone, "look at you turning over a new leaf. sleeping with the competition?" he gives a slight shake of his body that makes you immediately regret your decision to tell him.

"no, it had nothing to do with that," you shake your head, "i don't know."

haechan looks at you with a certain look, one that has his eyebrows raised and one that tells you 'i don't believe you.' "whatever you say~" he mocks. "you're ready for closing tonight, though, right?"

"yeah, i think i am."

NEW YEAR'S EVE, 11PM

you haven't spoken to mark today, yet. you've never exchanged phone numbers, or any social medias now that you think of it.

you spent the day tirelessly getting yourself ready, both physically and mentally, for the big closing race tonight. tonight's the night. tonight is what you've been looking forward to all year. the culmination with 100k on the line. practically double your annual pay all in one night. you don't want to sound shallow, but you don't want to disregard that this could have a genuine impact on your life.

you're familiarising yourself with the streets tucked away in another quiet part of the city. as you're walking through intersections and making turns at the corners, you hear a sudden blast of feedback.

"hello, testing."

the voice is not too loud but strong enough. you decide that you need to put your mind to rest, and walking, roaming these streets weren't going to do that. you make your way back to where the majority of people are; at the finishing line. crowds of onlookers haven't manifested yet, but soon these streets will be full of people, chanting and cheering either at your loss or your triumph.

although you have a few years of experience under your belt, it was this year that rapidly shot you into notability. last year, you also attended a closing race—your first closing race—but your performance wasn't the most remarkable. you had less to lose then. but since then, you've gained more and more recognition, more credibility. it'd be crushing if you had a repeat of what happened last year.

time seems like a blur. before you know it, there's 10 minutes left until the race. tradition was that it begins right as the clock strucks midnight, cars speeding off into the new year. and now you're standing off to the side, watching 11:50 statically on your lock screen.

a group of people heading for one direction catches your attention. the other racers. they're all already getting into their cars, you suppose you should, too.

there's a certain melancholy within you. there shouldn't be, right? tonight's the big night. but you can't fight this feeling away.

you crouch into your car. your previous performances earning you a spot right in front of the starting line; a huge advantage.

you shake off your wrists, cracking one side of your neck, then the other. your fingers grip onto your steering wheel tightly. to your right, you spot minjeong already looking at you, a sweet smile on her face. you turn your focus back onto yourself.

you know what to expect. the 'announcer'—not official, but whatever—will give you a 10 second warning. then, along with the crowd, they'll all count down to the new year from 3, and from there, it's all you.

you still haven't seen mark around, yet, you have no idea what spot he would be in. as you're attempting to get a deep breath into you, the 10 second warning comes... then...

"and everyone! 3!"

"2!"

"1!"

you had your foot already on the gas before '1' was chanted, so once you heard the signal, you shift your gear and you race off onto the meandering street. cheers erupt behind you, but you're already too far gone to hear the choruses of "happy new years!" clearly.

the velocity at which you're racing at forces and pins you against your seat. the grip on your steering wheel tightens. before you knew it, the adrenaline kicks in. minjeong isn't next to you, and you don't have time to check behind you.

you tell yourself you don't care. you don't care where your opponents are at, as long as you're first.

and so, you put yourself in the forefront of your mind. the beginning's gone pretty smoothly so far.

just as you're about to fly past a speed bump, you hear a long beep from behind you. as your tyres land, jolting you in your seat, you flash a quick glance at your rearview mirror. you can barely make out the person's face, but you recognised the car as mark's. shit. and what was he thinking—honking at you—is this a joke to him?

he's following closely behind you, you don't know exactly how close but the audience does. he tails directly behind you as you zoom past the horizontal road running through the starting intersection. for a second, you can hear the collective shouts and hollering as you speed past the crowd. the announcer makes some comment on—you're assuming—how close mark is to you, but you can't hear.

you're nearing the incline, the part of the course that spirals up, then leads back down again reconnecting into the main streets. you press onto your pedal harder to maintain your speed even as you're driving up at an angle. mark is catching up, the front of his car now aligned with where the edge of your door is. you twist your steering wheel, turning way sharper than necessary, but that's the only way you can think of to gain some more ground on mark.

you're going back down now, and the finish line isn't far. one more turn, and it's a straight line to the end. the revving of mark's engine is still within earshot.

approaching the turn, you push your steering wheel down to the left, your body swinging in the opposite direction. you can see the horde of people at the end of the street, now just a blended blob to you, about 100m away.

you glance back at your rearview, and just at that moment, mark looks to have overdone his turn. he quickly recovers from it, but you've gained at least 2 seconds from that, and even a split second matters.

you had it.

the adrenaline now courses all throughout your body, and it's like you get deja vu from that make-pretend race you had with just mark. you step on your gas as hard as you can, like you did before... and you blitz past the finish line. mark, too, right behind you.

you slowly release the pressure on your pedal and you can hear the fanfare in the not-so-far distance. finally, you feel like you can take a breath.

you pull off into the parking lot reserved for the candidates, the whole time with mark following you. there's no spectators around this area. you come to a halt, your body forced forwards before leaning back into your seat again.

you hop out of your vehicle, a jittery feeling arising within you. you'd just won, but you're not sure if that's the sole reason for your giddiness.

mark pops his door open and practically jumps out at you, launching himself towards you with his arms open. "you did it!" mark exclaims. you jump onto him and he catches you, arms tight around your waist.

"oh, my god," you pant, still in disbelief.

"you did it, yn," mark repeats. his smile beaming so brightly.

you look down at him, eyes glimmering, and you can't hold yourself back from kissing him. you take his lips into yours and you wish in that moment that you can stay like that for eternity.

"mark, i-" you're at a loss for words, truly. he puts you down onto the ground again. you exhale.

"you did it, baby," he leans down to peck your cheek softly.

you don't know how to feel. there's a wild range of emotions within you that you can't comprehend all at once.

"go on, they're all waiting for their winner out there. go and celebrate," there's a sweetness in the melody of his voice.

you grab onto mark's hand.