Drift on By
Pairing: Kai/Sehun
Rating: nc17
Length: 9,300 words
Originally written for kpop-ficmix's summer 2013 round. Remix of aethernity's Live Fast, Drive Faster.
Drift on By
Jongin challenges Minseok because he’s bored, because he hates standing around just watching races, hates picking out other people’s errors, mistakes he knows he wouldn’t have made if he’d been behind the wheel. The crowd around him doesn’t look worried or bitter but he can tell they’re appraising him, arms crossed tight and eyes narrowed, watching the way he grabs the keys he’s thrown, watching him make his way to the car. He’s not sure what that means, if it’s something he ought to be worried about, but he does his best to ignore it, shoulders hunched forward and head down. He swings open the unlocked door of the Silvia and slides in, soft leather seats enveloping him. The luxury puts him on edge-he doesn’t drive nice cars back home, has never really had the money for it, certainly never driven anything outfitted with a custom Audi steering wheel before. He takes a breath to steady himself before he inserts the key in the ignition and rolls slowly into place, smooth hum of the engine thrumming through his body as he eases down on the gas pedal.
They sit silent at the starting line before he hears someone yell, “Hey kid, you’re forgetting something!”
He turns towards the noise to find Minseok grinning at him through an opened window, his own still shut. He stares down at his feet as he holds down the automated opener, embarrassment creeping up on him, but the abrupt yelling of the countdown helps him ignore it, shove it back down in its place.
He slams his foot on the gas as soon as “Go!” is called, two sets of tires screeching in tandem as they burst out from the starting line. Minseok gets ahead right out of the gate but Jongin’s not far behind, trailing his Nissan by a car length. The first turn is hard-Jongin’s never drifted before, and he nearly finds himself and the car wrecked against the side of a building-but the second is worse. Jongin can’t judge the corner well enough, the road appearing deceptively wide and the turn ending up tighter than it seems. Jongin’s car goes sliding into a parked Mitsubishi Eclipse, the jarring crush of metal on metal ringing through the night, vibrating in Jongin’s bones even as he keeps right on driving. It’s been a while since he’s driven, even longer since he’s driven this badly, but he still knows how to recover, how to keep going, how to make it through distractions that threaten to destroy his concentration. The next few turns, however, go just as poorly, Minseok getting farther and farther ahead while he plays bumper cars with tricked-out hunks of metal, the hard crunch of contact ringing in his ears even as he drives the straights, out of harm’s way. When he slides into the finish line he’s exhausted, overexerted, eyes sore from focusing and the edges of his mind blurred with the beginnings of a headache.
Jongin steps out of the car, legs shaking, and doesn’t turn around to survey the damage he’s done. He has no idea who any of these people are, really, other than that Kyungsoo knows them, and while he trusts Kyungsoo, he’s learned you can never really assume anyone’s honesty or intentions before you get to know them, even if they’re friends of friends. He might owe all of them, now, for the thousands of dollars he’s sure he’s just caused in damage, might have to join them to pay off the debt, end up in some weird indentured servitude situation.
Except, he realizes when he actually looks up, everyone is looking at him with interest and creeping smiles.
“That,” a tall guy with blond-dyed hair and horrible roots says as he approaches, “was some of the best racing I’ve seen for a first time drifter.”
Jongin almost chokes on his own spit at that. “I destroyed like… every car in the parking lot though.”
“Comes with the territory,” Minseok says, “it was good racing against you, man.”
“Are you in Tokyo for long?” blond hair asks, stare severe.
“Uh, yeah, I’m at university here.”
“Have you been street racing here at all?”
Jongin shakes his head.
“Would you be interested in racing with us, then? We’ve got a garage and we’d give you a car. All your damage tonight would be forgiven.”
“There’s no catch?”
Blond hair laughs. “You’ll have to learn how not to destroy things, and I can’t guarantee you’ll like everyone’s teaching methods, but other than that, nope, no catch.”
It’s too good to be true, and Jongin knows it. He’s sure he’s setting himself up for trouble in the future, for some kind of disaster. But the adrenaline is crashing in his veins and he’s itching, foot tapping at the pavement, hands toying incessantly with the keys to the Silvia. He’s missed racing, missed the way a steering wheel gripped too hard leaves indents in his fingertips, the way exhaust leaves an acrid layer under everything he smells for the next day, the way his body shakes and reacts after a race, jumpy and overeager and ready for anything.
“Sure,” he says before he can regret it, “why not?”
Three days later he shows up at the garage, escorted by Kyungsoo. They’re greeted by Kris, the blond guy, who, Kyungsoo’s told him, is the owner, a guy educated at the best schools in the US, from an incredibly wealthy Chinese family, with nothing better to spend his money on than racing cars.
Kris takes over after they share introductions. First there’s Joonmyun, dressed in an out of place short sleeved, plaid button down, chatting to a guy under a car who grunts in response. Kris yells “Jongdae!” at him and he wheels out, jumpsuit smeared with thick black grease, wrench in hand.
“Is this the new kid?”
“Yeah, name’s Jongin.”
“Nice to meet you,” Jongdae replies, “you did a helluva lot of damage to our shit, don’t think you can do that all the time. I don’t have time for that shit, there are some people here who are sloppy enough drivers that I don’t need another uncoordinated disaster to worry about.”
He shoots a pointed glance past Joonmyun to a tall guy lounging on a couch, phone held up over his face, eyes narrowed in concentration,
Kris laughs at Jongdae’s comments, which doesn’t do much to put Jongin at ease, but he ignores the discomfort in his chest and follows Kris past the pair to the couch.
“Chanyeol, this is Jongin,” Kris says, and the man he’s addressing tears his eyes away from his phone to look Jongin up and down.
“You’re the one who wrecked all that shit this weekend?”
“Is that all anyone knows about me?”
Kris laughs. “It’s not a bad reputation to have, you know, except maybe for dealing with Jongdae. You drove like you had nothing to lose. That says a lot about a racer.”
Jongin nods, not quite sure that he understands what Kris means. He’d been out of practice and amped up from watching other people drive, maybe even a bit jealous of all the fun everyone was having without him. There’d been no real conscious effort in his driving, towards any goals other than staying alive and embarrassing himself as little as possible. He wasn’t going to argue with Kris though, with the idea that there was something special to his driving, if it meant he was going to finally be able to race again. He’d forgotten how much he liked it, needed it, almost, until Kyungsoo had pulled up to his apartment complex in his black Toyota Supra, flames painted along the sides, flashy and loud and everything Jongin hadn’t realized he’d been missing.
Four men enter the garage after that, clad in leather jackets, exhaust thick in the air around them. One is Minseok, who greets Jongin with a smile before introducing the others: Yixing, Baekhyun, and Zitao.
“I’m going to give Jongin a car to practice on,” Kris says to the group at large before turning to Jongin, “and then would you like to come out to dinner with all of us?”
Jongin nods, and Kris breaks out into a grin.
The track behind the garage isn’t terribly large, but it’s got a tight turn that Kris assures him is precisely the type he needs to work on most. He hands Jongin the keys to an electric blue Lancer Evolution, before sliding into its passenger seat. Jongin slips into the driver’s seat, keys hot in his palm, pushing the key into the ignition and turning. The engine revs, but Kris places a hand over his before he’s able to shift into drive.
“The key to drifting is thinking ahead. I don’t know what kind of races you’re used to or where you learned to drive, but a lot of street racing is instantaneous, lots of on the spot thinking. With drifting you’ve got to do that, but you’ve got to learn the turns, too. There are only so many angles that can exist on a road, and each one is a little different. You’ll need to learn how to handle each and memorize them. Then you can add on all the stuff you already know how to do, all the reactionary driving and defensive maneuvering. Do you see that curve, over just beside the garage door?”
Jongin nods.
“That’s a pretty common one. I think you’ll remember it when we get close to it-there’s a very similar one on the path you raced this weekend. You need to start this sort of turn early. Not too early, just a few seconds earlier than you probably think you need to. Are you ready?”
“As much as I’ll ever be.”
Kris smiles and releases his grip on Jongin’s hand. “Good. Please try not to wreck this car, Chanyeol got it into a pretty rough accident a week ago and I think Jongdae might go ballistic if it gets damaged again.”
Jongin swallows and shifts from park to drive, engine roaring loud through the otherwise quiet late afternoon air.
“Did you manage to not crash it this time?” Jongdae asks when Jongin and Kris re-enter the garage.
“Did you hear a crash?” Jongin shoots back. He’s exhausted, having attended two classes in the morning and scarfed down lunch before rushing over to spend nearly two hours with Kris on the track. The rest of the room, however, bursts into laughter at his sudden attitude, and Jongdae slings an arm around his shoulder.
“Good job, kid,” he says before turning to ask Kris where they’re going to dinner.
Turns out there’s a cheap ramen shop just down the street, which they pile into, leaving almost no room for other customers. They order a couple pitchers of beer for the table, Chanyeol and Baekhyun ragging on Jongin about whether or not he’s old enough to drink, and while it’s annoying, Jongin settles easily into the ebb and flow of the ribbing. It goes in every direction, Jongdae and Joonmyun picking on each other for their clothing choices (Joonmyun’s are too nice for a street racer, Jongdae’s are too crappy to be seen in public), Baekhyun and Chanyeol bickering over just about everything, Yixing seemingly spaced out but darting in, occasionally, with surprisingly sharp comments. Jongin stays out of most of it unless he’s asked directly to talk, taking it all in as he nurses a pint glass between bites of the spiciest soup on the menu. He takes the subway home afterwards, body warm with the hum of alcohol and hot food and good company.
Kris sets a schedule for him: one lesson a week, and at least six hours of solo practice time. Different people teach him each time, and Jongin finds he likes the variety, likes how it lets him get closer to each of them without the chaos of the usual large group. Kyungsoo doesn’t teach him, because Kyungsoo is one of the newest members to start with, and too close with Jongin him to be a terribly good teacher. Joonmyun is precise and particular, Chanyeol is lax, Baekhyun seems chill but becomes stern when Jongin screws up, Yixing lets Jongin do his own thing until he notices the opportunity to tell him how to do something better, Minseok is talkative, the actual takeaways of his lessons easy to miss amidst his myriad stories. It takes two months for him to make his way through the whole crew, but once he has-his last lesson is with Minseok, who prefaces it by telling him he’ll be reporting to Kris on whether or not he thinks he’s ready to race-he’s greeted by everyone the next time he shows up at the complex.
“Congrats,” Kris says, “we think you’re ready for the race this Saturday.”
“That’s the Tokyo Tower loop, right?”
“Yup. Chanyeol and Baekhyun will both be going from our crew, but we’re allowed to put in up to three people. Would you be comfortable?”
Jongin doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t consider. This is what he wants, what he’s always wanted. He’s just never had the opportunity while he’s been in Tokyo, never had the time to find one before, and now that it’s staring him in the face, he’s not about to turn it down, especially not after having worked so hard for it.
“Yes, I’d love to.”
“Great,” Kris replies, “do you want to keep driving the Evolution?”
Jongin nods. No sense in messing with success, he figures.
Kris grins, and Jongin turns to look around the rest of the group. They’re all smiling at him, too, and Jongin feels their support seeping into his body, warm and encouraging.
It’s Thursday, and he’s got a class the next morning, but he gets drunk with the rest of the group, anyway. They grab dinner and beers-extras for Jongin, of course-at a nearby restaurant, then head out to a bar. Jongin’s certainly tipsy when they arrive, arm flung over Kyungsoo’s shoulders and vision just a little too bright in the center, blurred in batches at the edges, and then Baekhyun immediately orders a round of shots for the group. They raise their glasses, Jongin’s weight supported in part by the elbow he’s got on the bar.
“To Jongin,” Kris says, hand held highest over them all, “who in just two months has gone from being utter crap to good enough to race against some of Tokyo’s finest.”
Everyone cheers, their grins turned towards Jongin, and they clink glasses in a sort of circle before tossing them back. It’s pure alcohol, vodka or something else generic, Jongin’s not quite sure, and it burns like hell. Jongin realizes too late that he’d forgotten to hold his breath before downing the shot, and it hurts to breathe for a moment, the taste in his mouth too sharp, invading his nose. He inhales deeply, looks around at the rest of his crew.
“Not used to that?” Chanyeol asks with a laugh, slinging an arm over his shoulder and digging his knuckles into his scalp.
“I’m a mechanical engineering major,” Jongin shoots back, “I don’t have time to get used to it.”
“And yet you still have time to drag race,” Chanyeol replies, grip still tight on Jongin’s shoulders, “You need to get your priorities straight, man.”
“Says the guy who dropped out of school to drag race.”
“Hey, I’m not a dropout, I’m just taking some time off.”
Jongin rolls his eyes and manages to escape from the vice of Chanyeol’s arms, stumbling a little when he does. Baekhyun appears at his side, slinging an arm around his waist and steering him back towards the bar.
“Alright, so you can’t do shots. Let’s get you something you can drink instead.”
“I have class in the morning, you know,” he says while Baekhyun orders two whiskey sours. It’s not a protest so much as a fact.
“So do I,” Baekhyun replies, “but you only have a first race once, and you can’t get hammered tomorrow night since you need to practice the next day.”
Jongin nods. It’s sound enough logic. He turns his attention to the bartender, who’s mixing their drinks simultaneously, a bottle in each hand, liquid filtering down into each of two separate tumblers. Baekhyun pays for them both in cash, and hands one to Jongin.
“There’s pretty decent whiskey in this,” he says, “so don’t drink it too fast.”
Jongin nods.
He listens to Baekhyun, sips it slowly, but he still ends up, half an hour later, too drunk to really focus on anything, mind flitting from place to place as he sits with the rest of the group at a large table.
There is, however, one person that catches his attention: a tall, skinny guy, shoulders broad but hunched, lounging at the bar. He’s not Jongin’s type, per se, but he’s still good-looking, and Jongin finds himself unable to look away. The guy’s just sort of staring off into space, as if something terribly fascinating is happening on the ceiling in the middle of the bar, but Jongin can’t stop watching him, anyway, until Kyungsoo tugs on his elbow and leans in to whisper in his ear.
“What are you staring at?”
“The guy in the white jacket.”
“By the bar?”
Jongin turns to Kyungsoo, nods.
“I think that’s… his name’s Sehun or something, he sometimes races on our circuit in Shibuya. Drives this really flashy Benz. Friends with this dude Yixing knows named Lu Han.”
“Mmmmm,” Jongin says by way of reply. A man comes up to Sehun, talks to him briefly, blocking Jongin’s view. Sehun follows him out of the bar, and there’s a hint of something that Jongin thinks could be fear splashed across his face.
The next morning is rough. Jongin wakes up hungover on Kyungsoo’s couch, headache settled in every corner of his brain, light a bit painful over his face, stomach heavy in his body.
“Fuck, what time is it?” he asks aloud, and when there’s no response, he turns to grab his phone off the table beside him.
It’s apparently 11am, halfway through his class, but there’s a text message from Kyungsoo assuring him that he can copy his notes. He flops back over into the couch and lies there for a couple more minutes before slowly standing up. His mouth tastes disgusting, weirdly sweet but bitter at the same time, and his head hurts even worse after he’s stood up. He gets up shortly and makes his way to Kyungsoo’s bathroom to take a piss, then leaves the apartment, making sure the door is locked behind him, and shooting Kyungsoo a text to thank him. On his way back to his dorm he stops at a coffee shop, grabs an iced coffee and pours more milk into it than he usually does. His phone vibrates when he’s standing at a crosswalk, but this time it’s from Baekhyun.
Heard you didn’t make it to class today. Want to practice after lunch? Chanyeol and I are meeting around 1.
Sure, he types back, that’d be great.
Friday and Saturday crawl by, even with all the practicing they’re doing. Jongin is on edge, a little nervous but mostly just excited to be back on an actual circuit, back to racing in front of crowds, competing and, hopefully, succeeding. Baekhyun and Chanyeol give him shit for it but he can’t bring himself to mind. Time isn’t passing quickly enough for how ready he is to finally race again, and they help speed it up, even if just a little.
When the actual race time rolls around, the three of them drive with Jongdae from the complex to the starting point, where they meet the rest of the crew. Jongin mostly keeps to himself, pacing as per his usual pre-race routine, trying to walk out the few nerves that are busting out in his body, hot and uncontrolled. His eye catches, though, on a familiar face standing beside a silver Benz, chatting to someone Jongin supposes might be Lu Han.
He’s interrupted, though, by an announcement telling the competitors to head to the starting line to pick straws for race placement. Baekhyun and Chanyeol join him as he walks up, and he draws first row, second lane. They each offer him claps on the back and a few words of encouragement before walking off to their own cars. He’s positioned between a Japanese racer named Hiroki, who drives a yellow Taurus, and Sehun, who’s not really interacted with anyone except that single person, eyes focused in front of him, as if he sees nothing but the road they’re about to take off on.
The flags sweep down, and Jongin guns his motor, gets as good a start out of the gate as he can hope for. Sehun and Hiroki are easily ahead of him, but he’s not far behind. It’s a straightforward race: 5 laps from the starting point, running up past Tokyo Tower. Baekhyun and Chanyeol had explained it to him, taken him along it the previous afternoon so he was clear on what was to come, and he’s happy for that now as he drives along, engine loud and buildings blurring past.
Jongin keeps his eyes mostly on the road, on who’s ahead of him and what’s about to come. He does his best not to react to anything extraneous, but two laps in he’s still in third and Hiroki is driving dangerously close to Sehun, as if he’s trying to run him off the road. It doesn’t surprise him when it finally happens, but that doesn’t make him any less angry about it: his body is buzzing with adrenaline, looking for anywhere to redirect its excess, and it finds its target in the injustice of the crash. Sehun’s Benz is sent into a wall with one rough nudge of the yellow Taurus’s front bumper against its side. He flies past the wreck, noticing Sehun stumbling out looking unhappy but unharmed, and tries his best to catch up to Hiroki. He does so shortly after they hit the third lap, then passes him, with Chanyeol now in third behind them. Hiroki stays close through the next two laps, but doesn’t overtake him. He also doesn’t pull any semi-legal aggressive shit on Jongin, either, which he’s thankful for.
Jongin speeds through the third lap on sheer aggression and frustration, but he calms down when he comes in for the fourth. He’s still pissed, but it’s not boiling under his skin the same way anymore, not making him dangerous and careless. The turns are laying themselves out before him again, obvious and reasonable, and he’s taking them as they come. He crosses the finish line in first, the rest of the team running up to him when he comes to a stop to the side and steps out of his car.
“That was fucking amazing!” Kris exclaims, “are you ok? We heard there was an accident?”
Jongin nods. “Yeah, it was Hiroki and that… Sehun…? guy who crashed.” He pauses for a moment, fingering his keys. He’s not really sure why he cares so much, but there’s something that’s bugging him. “Did he ever like… make it back?”
The group exchanges glances, no one looking certain of anything. Kris shrugs.
“I don’t think so.”
Jongin takes a deep breath. “Kyungsoo, you said he… wasn’t from around here right? Like didn’t normally race this circuit?”
“Yeah,” Kyungsoo replies slowly. He looks like he’s about to say more but Yixing’s phone suddenly rings, cutting loud and clear even through the post-race noise.
He answers, nods as he speaks to whoever’s on the other end. “That was Lu Han,” he says when he hangs up, “he says Sehun’s lost and called him, but Lu Han came in his car so he can’t really pick him up. Jongin, would you mind going, since you know where the crash was?”
“Yeah,” Jongin says after a moment’s hesitation, worried he’ll come off too eager if he responds immediately.
“Thanks, I’ll let Lu Han know.”
Jongin slips back into his car after accepting a couple more congratulations from his teammates and thanking Baekhyun and Chanyeol for the good race. He starts the engine, turning on the radio this time. He drives normally, now, restraining himself from treating the now-familiar streets like a racetrack. They’re not, anymore, and he’s not competing either, just searching for someone he feels oddly drawn to. Sehun’s face when he’d left the bar last night, afraid and uncertain, lingers in his mind, mixing with images of him when he’d left his car, glaring but still, Jongin thinks, looking as though he were scared of something. Jongin is drawn to that look, to him, to this strange layer of something that seems to exist under his good looks, weighing down his wide shoulders. He knows he could be making it up, could be searching for what he wants in someone who exists entirely outside of him, who has his own purposes and reasons and emotions that Jongin is not privy to. He’s not sure why, exactly, it’s Sehun who’s captured his imagination: there are plenty of random good-looking guys he could be interested in, plenty of sad-looking ones, too, but it’s Sehun that sticks on his mind, planting himself there and staying even though Jongin’s got no reason to keep him.
He comes across Sehun on a small, residential street in the middle of the old track. He pulls up beside him and Sehun jumps, like he’s about to bolt, until Jongin unrolls his window and calls out to him.
“Sehun? My name’s Jongin, I was sent by your friend Lu Han to pick you up?”
Sehun bends over to look inside the car, face oddly close to Jongin’s. “Oh, you raced today, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Hiroki didn’t win, did he?”
“No,” Jongin pauses, bites his lip, “Uh, I did.”
Sehun laughs. “Much better than that bastard. Are you coming to give me a ride?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, thanks.”
Sehun looks surprised, but pulls back anyway and walks around the side of the car, opens the passenger door, and takes his seat.
“Is your… car ok?”
“Nah, it’s kind of destroyed. Probably could be fixed but I dunno, I don’t really have anyone to go to for the damage right now. The place I’ve usually used has… gone out of business.”
“I could maybe have my crew’s mechanic take a look at it?”
“You race with Kris’s team, right?”
“Yeah, Jongdae’s the mechanic. He’s pretty amazing.”
Sehun nods, considers for a moment. “That would be great. I’ll pay of course.”
“Cool, I’ll tell Kris to get it towed. Where am I taking you, anyway?”
“Uh, I live in Shinjuku, which is pretty far and not the greatest place to be, especially with a car like this, so you can just drop me off near a subway if you’d prefer?”
“It’s fine, I can take you to your place. Can you just direct me as we go?”
“Sure,” Sehun replies.
Jongin stops at a light and turns to look at Sehun. He’s got a couple cuts on his face but they’re barely noticeable, just a bit of crusted blood near his eyebrows and on his cheeks. Jongin’s a bit surprised that he’s in such good shape given the severity of the crash, on his car’s end, but he doesn’t have time to think about it more because Sehun catches him staring and he glances away.
They ride the rest of the way without conversation, their silence punctuated only by occasional directions from Sehun. When they reach his apartment complex, he congratulates Jongin on his win, thanks him for the ride, and ducks out quickly, sprinting up to his building as Jongin pulls away from the curb.
Sehun stays on his mind for the next several days, especially with his car in the shop. It’s Jongdae’s major project for the week, and so it’s out in the open more often than not, Jongdae underneath it or standing next to it drinking coffee and complaining to anyone who’ll listen. Jongin hates his inexplicable fixation, hates the way he’s constantly arguing with himself about whether or not he should be thinking about Sehun instead of focusing on schoolwork or racing. He wants to stop, ween himself off it, but he doesn’t know how to. His mind swirls with question: why did Hiroki hit Sehun, why does Sehun look constantly afraid, why can’t he stop thinking about him? He wishes he could shut his brain off, flick a switch and erase Sehun, but he can’t, and by the end of the week he’s adjusted to it, taught himself how to control his thoughts as best he can.
When Jongdae finishes up the car it’s just over a week after the race, and Jongin hangs around the shop for most of the day, practicing but also looking for an excuse to run into Sehun. He’s more disappointed than he’s willing to admit when Lu Han wanders in to pick up the car and pay with a check from Sehun. When Jongdae asks him why it’s him coming in instead, Lu Han replies with a shrug.
“He’s busy with something or other. I don’t ask questions, just help him out when he needs it.”
The next week, Jongin’s racing against Hiroki again. Yixing ends up winning the race, Jongin settling for third, but it’s not without its successes: he runs Hiroki off the road, into a wall such that his car will be smashed up but he’ll be left mostly uninjured. He gets a text from an unknown number after the race, and he opens it with curiosity.
hey this is sehun. heard from lu han that you knocked the bastard off the road. he deserved it.
Jongin saves the number before responding. He’s fucking excited about the message, grin spreading across his face and settling there even though he’s a bit embarrassed by how happy the simple text is making him.
haha no problem, he types hastily, stopping to take a deep breath before adding do you wanna grab dinner tomorrow?
The wait for Sehun’s reply is nerve-wracking. Jongin’s at a bar with the rest of the crew, a pint of beer half-finished in front of him, and Kyungsoo’s noticed that he’s become more interested in his phone than the conversation going on.
“Who’re you texting?” he asks, leaning over to try and peak.
Jongin shoves him away and shuts his screen off, turning it facedown and placing it on the table. “None of your business.”
Kyungsoo grabs his phone off the table in lieu of response, and they wrestle over it for a minute, Kyungsoo almost elbowing his drink in the process. The screen lights up and Jongin lunges for it, managing to grab it out of his hands before turning his back and hunching over it.
sure, it says simply. where?
“Oh, it’s that Sehun guy,” Kyungsoo says, chin resting on his shoulder. “Are you trying to bone him?”
“Maybe,” Jongin replies, writing out the name of a restaurant halfway between his campus and where he remembers Sehun’s apartment being.
“Have you even like… talked to him?”
“That’s why I’m asking him to dinner.”
“So you can buy him some wine so he’ll actually want to fuck you?”
Jongin turns around and shoves Kyungsoo. He knows he’s teasing, knows this is Kyungsoo’s standard way of acting and usually loves him for it, but right now he doesn’t really want to deal with it. He’s embarrassed enough as it is about his inexplicably strong interest in Sehun, and Kyungsoo’s not helping him feel any better.
“Ok, sorry, that was harsh. Good luck. I’ve heard he’s kinda flaky and elusive.”
Jongin nods. He can see that. He picks up his glass and takes a sip, waiting for Sehun’s next text.
yeah sounds good. let’s say 7? see you then.
Jongin grins to himself as he responds affirmatively and tucks his phone back into his pocket.
Jongin meets Sehun at the restaurant in a pair of jeans and a dark blue button down. Sehun’s dressed similarly, but his shirt is pinstriped white and blue. He’s already at a table and Jongin goes to join him. They exchange greetings, order glasses of wine when the waiter comes by to ask.
“How long have you been racing?” Sehun asks, “I don’t think I’d ever seen you around before last week.”
“I used to race in Seoul, but I haven’t until just recently here. I didn’t really have a way to do it, until I found out Kyungsoo was part of a crew and they asked me to join.”
“Oh, that’s really nice, having back-up.”
“Do you just… race on your own?”
“Mostly.”
“That must suck.”
Sehun shrugs. “It’s better than not racing. I’ve got, well, some connections, and Lu Han, so if I ever get run off the road-like last time-I’ve got people I can call for help.”
“Still, I’d hate to race without solid back-up. I don’t even really own the car I’m using, I think it’s Kris’s.”
“Kris and Joonmyun combined are probably rich enough to cover any damage you could do to it a few times over, I wouldn’t feel too guilty.”
“I don’t, it’s just that I wouldn’t have the opportunity without them, you know? I basically left all this behind in Korea to come to school here and be able to focus better, perfect my Japanese, see a different part of the world.”
Sehun nods. The waiter returns with their drinks and they place their meal orders.
“So you’re here for university?”
“Yeah, I study mechanical engineering. What about you?”
Sehun sips from his glass and looks away before responding. “I got a job here, basically. My family was having a hard time financially so it was my best choice. Things have been… kinda rough, especially since my Japanese is pretty bad, but racing has helped me a bit and stuff.”
“That sucks,” Jongin replies, and he knows it’s an awkward response but he’s not quite sure what else to say. Sehun, though, seems unaffected, and quickly changes the subject back to racing.
By the end of the night, they’ve each gone through a few glasses of wine, their faces tinged red with alcohol. They’re talking more freely now, Sehun complaining about his older brother and Jongin rambling about the absurd difficulty of his last mechanics problem set. When they finish their meals, they split the tab and wander out into the still-warm air of Tokyo in springtime.
It’s Sehun who makes the first move, slings an arm around Jongin’s shoulders and asks him if he has any roommates.
“I do but we’ve, uh, got separate bedrooms,” he replies, and Sehun grins.
“Could I come over?”
“Sure,” Jongin says as he weaves an arm around his waist, pulling him tighter. Sehun’s equal parts giggly and aggressive right now, and Jongin likes it, wants to see more of it, wants to explore more of Sehun.
They take the subway to Jongin’s apartment, ride the elevator up to his fifth floor apartment, and then stumble through the darkened living room to Jongin’s bedroom. Jongin doesn’t bother flicking on the light in his room, either, just shuts and locks the door, joining Sehun on his bed, where he’s already laying down. There’s enough light streaming in through his open window that he can make out the outline of Sehun’s body, the hard line of his nose and the contours of his lips. He sits down at the edge of his bed but Sehun pulls him forward and kisses him, soft and alcohol-laced, hands latching onto Jongin’s hips. Jongin parts his lips, lets Sehun’s tongue slide in, before Sehun tugs him down so they’re lying beside each other, legs entangled as they make out. Jongin presses closer, his dick starting to get hard as he grinds against Sehun’s hip.
“Shirts off?” Sehun asks and Jongin nods against his chest before pulling back. They each unbutton their shirts and chuck them off, pressing against each other again when they’ve removed them. Sehun’s chest is warm against Jongin’s, and Sehun moves from his lips to his neck, kissing and biting down while they thrust lazily against one another.
Sehun undoes Jongin’s belt and jeans, then shoves a hand inside and around his cock, stroking slowly. Jongin mirrors his actions, fumbling a bit more with the button than he’d like, then jerking him off, too, in firm, fluid strokes. The angle’s not the greatest but it’s good enough, and Sehun’s soft moans in his ear push him closer and closer to the edge. He fucks himself into Sehun’s hand, head of his dick rubbing against Sehun’s stomach, and he comes with a quiet moan, Sehun following after. Jongin rolls over to grab tissues of his nightstand, offering a handful to Sehun so he can clean himself off.
“Do you want to stay the night?” Jongin asks.
“Would you mind?”
“No,” he replies, sliding off his jeans, “I’d love it.”
Jongin wakes up next to Sehun, both of them clad only in their boxers, sunlight streaming in through the window. He checks the time on his phone-it’s 8am, and he’s got a class at 10. Plenty of time, he figures, to grab another hour of sleep.
Except Sehun’s awake, and Sehun’s got other ideas. When he realizes Jongin’s up, he straddles him, their cocks rubbing against one another through the soft cotton of their boxers. Jongin lets out an involuntary moan, and Sehun leans down to nip at his ear lobe.
“Come on, are you just gonna sleep the morning away or do you want to do something more fun?”
Jongin doesn’t respond, just lets Sehun kiss him.
“I really want to fuck you,” Sehun says against his lips, “your ass looked so great in those jeans last night, it’d be a waste not to touch it.”
Jongin arches up into his kiss as Sehun trails his hands along his sides. “Yes.”
“You have any lube?”
Jongin nods, points at a drawer, which Sehun walks over to and rummages around in for a moment.
“How long’s it been since you last bottomed?”
“A while.”
“Ok,” Sehun says, placing the bottle of lube beside him and tugging Jongin’s boxers down. He spreads his legs open, leaning down to bite the insides of Jongin’s thighs before slicking up his fingers and sliding one slowly inside Jongin.
“How’s that feel?”
“Good,” Jongin replies.
Sehun covers Jongin’s body with his own as he slips a second finger inside and kisses across Jongin’s chest, stopping to lick at one of his nipples, tongue hot and slick, teeth nicking across the skin.
“Fuck, Sehun, that’s good.”
Sehun looks up and grins, eyes glinting, before biting down on his nipple, harder this time and just a little painful, but still arousing. He’s got three fingers inside Jongin, now, rhythm steady and quick.
“You ready?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
Sehun stands up and yanks down his boxers before putting on a condom and lubing up his cock and returning to the bed. He spreads Jongin’s legs even wider, kneeling between them, one hand on his cock and the other on Jongin’s hip, before he slides in. He fucks Jongin slowly at first but speeds up, working his hips and stroking Jongin’s cock as he does.
They kiss messily while Sehun fucks him, mouths open and sliding against each other more than kissing, Jongin’s hands roaming over the expanse of Sehun’s back, his legs wrapped tight around his waist. Sehun comes with a moan and pulls out, takes off his condom and chucks it into the garbage.
“Can I blow you?”
“Yeah,” Jongin breathes, and Sehun goes down on him.
His mouth is hot and wet on Jongin’s cock, and he sucks him off quickly, head bobbing at a rigorous pace, tongue working along his dick as he does. When Jongin comes he threads his fingers in Sehun’s hair and tries his best not to pull, a low moan caught in his throat as Sehun swallows.
“That was a better wake-up call than your alarm half an hour before class, right?”
Jongin smiles, mind hazy and body lax, as Sehun lies back down beside him.
“Yeah, it definitely was.”
After a couple months of dating, of long nights spent talking and fucking and cuddling, Sehun still hasn’t come clean about what it his he’s mixed up in, what keeps his shoulders hunched and his expression bleak, what makes him sometimes disappear with flaky warning for several hours or a couple of days. Jongin has his suspicions, is pretty sure it’s something to do with money and something to do with racing for goals different than personal pleasure and a bit of extra cash on the side, but he doesn’t raise them. Sehun’s carefully quiet about that particular side of his personal life, choosing instead to focus on his family back in Korea and his job instead, and Jongin doesn’t pry.
Sehun shows up one afternoon at the garage with only a brief text of warning. “Fucked up my car last night,” he says when he walks in. “It still runs but… it’s not in good shape.”
Jongdae’s fucking around with Baekhyun on the other side of the room, but he turns to face them when he hears what Sehun’s talking about.
“Do you need it fixed?”
“Yeah. I’d pay again, like last time.”
Jongdae nods and stands up. “Do you have it with you? I’ll get the door open and you can drive it in and I’ll take a look.”
When he drives the car in, Jongin’s shocked by the amount of damage that’s been done to it. The door on the driver’s side is crumpled in, and Sehun exits through the passenger side. Jongdae, for his part, sighs when he sees it, but then glances at Jongin with a concerned look. Jongin shrugs.
“What happened?” he asks Sehun later, when they’re walking outside.
“Just… something careless, not a big deal.”
“Sehun, that looked like a pretty big deal.”
“Trust me, it’s not.”
“Sehun.”
Jongin stops walking. He stares at Sehun but he doesn’t meet his gaze, looks off to the side instead.
“Look, I can’t say much, I’ve just got… I’ve got some stuff I need to sort out. Remember how I said I had some money problems? I owe some people who can be… demanding and I’ve almost got it figured out.”
“Is this why Hiroki tried to run you off?”
“Sort of. But don’t worry, I’m working it out. It’s all gonna be fine soon.”
“Do you need help? I’m sure Kris and Joonmyun could back you if you agreed to race for us or something.”
“No, I don’t need any help.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Sehun replies, finally looking at Jongin. There’s determination in his stare, and Jongin backs down. He knows better than to mess with Sehun when it comes down to the personal things he’s ashamed of. He wishes he could help, but if Sehun won’t accept it, there’s nothing, he figures, that he can really do, besides stand by and be as supportive of possible.
For the next three weeks, Sehun comes in with terrible damage to his driver’s side and rear end and refuses to talk about it. The fourth time it happens, Jongdae pulls Jongin aside.
“Look, it’s not race damage. I think you know that. It’s deliberate, it’s being done to possibly hurt him-that’s why it’s all on the driver’s side. Do you know anything about who it could be?”
Jongin shakes his head. “He won’t tell me. I offered to help after the first time but he shut me down.”
“Well, the damage keeps getting worse-his door’s definitely gonna be permanently dented after this one. Where does he live in Shinjuku?”
Jongin thinks for a moment, describes the area to the best of his ability. It’s hard, because they mostly hang out at Jongin’s, but Jongdae seems to understand what he’s talking about.
“That’s Black Hand territory, I’m pretty sure.”
Jongin nods. He’s heard rumors of them, of a terrible gang known for extortions and getting mixed up in racing in certain parts of the city.
“Has he ever… mentioned borrowing money or anything?”
“Yeah,” Jongin says slowly, “he said something about that once.”
Jongdae nods. “I think he’s in a lot of trouble. I know he doesn’t want help but… I think we should talk to Kris about this. He’s dealt with them before. They’re not exactly scared of him but they know him and they know not to fuck with him too much.”
They walk together to the office Kris spends most of his time in. He’s chatting Joonmyun when they enter, but beckons them inside anyway. Jongdae explains what’s been going on, and Kris listens intently, face expressionless.
“That definitely sounds like Black Hand to me. Jongin, is there any way you could get him back here?”
“I can try,” he says and pulls out his phone. It rings twice before Sehun picks up.
“Hey Jongin, what’s up?”
“Could you come back to the garage?”
“For what?”
“We, uh, need to talk to you.”
“Is it about the damage? I know it’s worse this time, but don’t worry, I can pay it.”
He’s speaking flippantly, like he’s trying to avoid what he must know is the real subject. Jongin takes a deep breath before responding, trying to muster up all the severity he can in his tone.
“Sehun, we really, really need you to come over so we can talk to you. In person.”
“Ok,” Sehun replies after a long pause. “I’ll be there in twenty.”
An hour later, Sehun’s not there and he’s not answering his phone, either. Jongin’s worried but he’s trying not to let it show, until Kris turns to him and asks him if this is normal.
“Not… really. He might be avoiding this, but I don’t know, I think he’d come up with an excuse if that were the case. I think something’s… happened.”
Kris nods. “I think we should try and find him. Jongin, since you know where he lives, you go. I’ll come with you, since I know some of the people he’s probably dealing with. He’s most likely on foot, so I’m going to ask Zitao to come with us since he’s trained in hand-to-hand. Jongdae, are you up for it too?”
Jongdae nods.
“Joonmyun, you’ll be on call if we need back up? Get everyone else here or make sure they’re ready to leave from wherever they are when you give them the word.”
“Will do.”
“Great. I’m going to grab Zitao and take him in my car-you two head out together, we’ll catch up.”
Kris leaves the room when he’s done delegating, and Jongin and Jongdae follow suit.
“I’m coming,” Jongdae says as they’re running out to Jongin’s car, “because I’m also trained in hand-to-hand. So if anything happens and we have to get out of the car, let me get in front of you.”
“Ok,” Jongin replies, stopping at his door and unlocking it before sliding inside, Jongdae doing the same on the passenger side.
They peal out onto the street, car silent, engine revving, and head straight for Shinjuku. It’s late afternoon so Jongin can’t be as reckless as he wants to be, can’t speed through red lights and risk pedestrian lives, but he does the best he can with what he’s got, darting between lines of traffic and cutting off anyone in his way with abandon. Up to this point, he’s enjoyed being with Sehun, found him interesting and fun, good company and good in bed to boot. But now there’s something deeper, something pushing him harder and making him want to risk everything to keep him out of danger.
Jongdae notices the crowd up ahead before Jongin. A handful of men have someone surrounded in an alley, pinned up against a wall.
“Slow down,” Jongdae says as they’re approaching, and Jongin obliges. The man they’re holding up is definitely Sehun, and Jongdae confirms that he recognizes a couple of the guys as Black Hand members.
“Should we get out?”
“No, keep going till we get Kris in view, then pull over somewhere and I’ll run back. You stay here so you can drive us away when we get Sehun out.”
Jongin nods. Kris comes speeding into sight behind them seconds later, and Jongin turns down a side street, parking immediately. Kris pulls up after them, and he and Zitao get out of the car, Jongdae joining them and sprinting down. Jongin’s not certain he’s seeing correctly, but he’s pretty sure he catches a glimpse of gun harnesses on both Kris and Zitao. He swallows and leans back in his seat.
The next fifteen minutes are the worst fifteen minutes of his life. He doesn’t know how to fight, doesn’t want to fuck up Jongdae’s directions or any plans they’re putting into action, but he hates just sitting there, waiting for something to happen. He sits with his neck craned back, watching for someone, anyone, to come round the corner, waiting to hear anything that could mean someone’s coming or something’s happening. He hears muffled voices but that’s about it. There’s nothing clear enough for him to make out, and his phone stays silent.
When he finally sees them again, they’re not running, and they don’t have Sehun.
“We’re heading to Black Hand headquarters. Kris is going to pay off Sehun’s debt and then they’ll let him off.”
“Ok. Do you know how to get there?”
“Yeah, we’re following Kris.”
“Does he just… have enough money on him for it?”
“No, they’ve agreed to let him write a check. He has to give it directly to their boss, though.”
Jongin nods and starts the engine. He pulls a three-point turn as Kris turns right, then follows him down the street. They reach an unassuming office building, which they park in front of and enter. A guard pats them down and finds them clean, Kris and Zitao’s weapons apparently discarded in their car. They’re escorted to an elevator, then up seven floors and down a long corridor to an unassuming wood door. The guard with them knocks, and a voice inside tells them to enter.
They step inside. A man in a suit sits at a desk, flanked on either side by men clearly toting guns. Jongin swallows, palms sweating. Jongdae seems to notice his nervousness and pats him on the back reassuringly, offering him a smile.
“The guy at the desk,” he whispers, “is Takahashi. The guy on the right is Minamoto, his second in command, and the other one is Takuya, their best driver besides Takahashi.”
Jongin nods and focuses in on the conversation that’s already begun between the two leaders.
“So you’re willing to pay Sehun’s entire debt to us? That’s quite nice of you.”
“Thank you. I’ve already made out the check,” Kris says, reaching into his pocket and placing it on the desk. “I’m here to retrieve Sehun.”
“You think I’m going to let you off that easily?”
“That was the deal we just made,” Kris says, teeth gritted, “I was under the impression we had made an agreement that benefitted both parties. I am, in fact, paying his debt with three times the interest you originally charged him, calculated up to three years from now, since that was the timeframe of his final loan.”
“Oh, Kris,” Takahashi says with a smile that terrifies Jongin, “When will you learn that not everyone plays by your rules? We’re all writing our own laws here. Mine just happen to differ from yours.”
“What do you want?”
“It’s a simple request. Just a bit of proof. I want a race. Me and someone from your crew. It’s nearly seven, late enough for racing, so we’ll settle it immediately.”
Kris looks like he’s about to say something, but Jongin pipes up before he can open his mouth. “I’ll go.”
Kris spins around to stare at him, everyone else’s gazes falling on him, too. “You’ll what?”
“I’ll go. I’m the best driver you’ve got here, anyway.”
Kris looks like he can’t believe what Jongin’s saying, but Takahashi is smiling, delighted.
“Wonderful. Let’s head outside and settle this. Kris, I will accept your check as it is if this boy can beat me in a race. Otherwise I’ll double it.”
“And is this final? Your last rule change?”
“Unless he loses, yes. You have my word.”
Jongin climbs into his car and drives it around to the back of the building, where he’s directed by a guard. They’re starting on the street that runs past the rear entrance, and Jongin pulls up beside Takahashi’s black Genesis, heart racing, blood pounding in his ears. He’s never raced with such high stakes in his life.
A guard is calling the start, and when he lowers his hand Jongin takes off, the racecourse mapped out in his head. He drives with the best combination of speed and precision he can manage, trying to stay as far ahead of Takahashi as possible, so that he can’t pull any dirty shit on him.
He can see him in his rearview mirror, but he does his best not to pay attention to that and to focus on the road instead. Things are going smoothly, Jongin solidly in the lead, until halfway through the course a red GT500 pulls out suddenly in front of him. He turns and brakes hard, nearly spinning out of control and into a wall as he does, but he manages to recover just in time to see the red car approaching again. It’s Minamoto, trying to run him off the road. He swears under his breath. He probably doesn’t have any back-up: Kris had been commanded to stay at headquarters, and he doubts that the guards let him or any of the others take out their phones to contact anyone who’s back at the garage. He floors the gas and shoots off, much faster than he’s comfortable driving on on as narrow a street as he’s on right now, but he has no other choice. He blasts through a stoplight and barely avoids hitting several pedestrians, but he makes it out safely. His heart is beating faster than he can ever remember it having done in the past, adrenaline and blood pounding in his ears, hot and loud and impossible to ignore. Minamoto is still close behind, much too close for comfort, but he’s nearing the finish line and he knows his car’s got a little more to give him. He nudges down ever so much more on the gas, not daring to look at his speedometer, and it’s just the push he needs: Minamoto shrinks progressively, Takahashi barely visible, and he pulls into the finish line in first.
His entire body is shaking when he steps out. Sehun’s there now, waiting for him, and he runs up to him the moment he pulls up, enveloping him in a hug.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers over and over, patting Jongin’s back. Jongin barely hears him, too stressed to register anything going on around him, but after a minute it hits him. He did it. He won undisputedly. Sehun’s free of his debt and he’s beaten the leader of one of the most notorious gangs in the city.
“You were amazing,” Kris says, coming over and clapping a hand on his back. Both he and Sehun straighten up. “I didn’t see much, but what I did was some of the best driving I’ve seen, ever. And as for you, Sehun, Takahashi’s accepted my check and you’re now free of debt.”
“Thank… Thank you so much,” Sehun stutters out. “I… don’t know how to repay you.”
“Race for us?” Kris offers. Sehun nods, and Jongin leans up to kiss him, adrenaline hot in his veins but something else running alongside it, too, something even more exciting and, just maybe, more dangerous.
Rating: nc17
Length: 9,300 words
Originally written for kpop-ficmix's summer 2013 round. Remix of aethernity's Live Fast, Drive Faster.
Drift on By
Jongin challenges Minseok because he’s bored, because he hates standing around just watching races, hates picking out other people’s errors, mistakes he knows he wouldn’t have made if he’d been behind the wheel. The crowd around him doesn’t look worried or bitter but he can tell they’re appraising him, arms crossed tight and eyes narrowed, watching the way he grabs the keys he’s thrown, watching him make his way to the car. He’s not sure what that means, if it’s something he ought to be worried about, but he does his best to ignore it, shoulders hunched forward and head down. He swings open the unlocked door of the Silvia and slides in, soft leather seats enveloping him. The luxury puts him on edge-he doesn’t drive nice cars back home, has never really had the money for it, certainly never driven anything outfitted with a custom Audi steering wheel before. He takes a breath to steady himself before he inserts the key in the ignition and rolls slowly into place, smooth hum of the engine thrumming through his body as he eases down on the gas pedal.
They sit silent at the starting line before he hears someone yell, “Hey kid, you’re forgetting something!”
He turns towards the noise to find Minseok grinning at him through an opened window, his own still shut. He stares down at his feet as he holds down the automated opener, embarrassment creeping up on him, but the abrupt yelling of the countdown helps him ignore it, shove it back down in its place.
He slams his foot on the gas as soon as “Go!” is called, two sets of tires screeching in tandem as they burst out from the starting line. Minseok gets ahead right out of the gate but Jongin’s not far behind, trailing his Nissan by a car length. The first turn is hard-Jongin’s never drifted before, and he nearly finds himself and the car wrecked against the side of a building-but the second is worse. Jongin can’t judge the corner well enough, the road appearing deceptively wide and the turn ending up tighter than it seems. Jongin’s car goes sliding into a parked Mitsubishi Eclipse, the jarring crush of metal on metal ringing through the night, vibrating in Jongin’s bones even as he keeps right on driving. It’s been a while since he’s driven, even longer since he’s driven this badly, but he still knows how to recover, how to keep going, how to make it through distractions that threaten to destroy his concentration. The next few turns, however, go just as poorly, Minseok getting farther and farther ahead while he plays bumper cars with tricked-out hunks of metal, the hard crunch of contact ringing in his ears even as he drives the straights, out of harm’s way. When he slides into the finish line he’s exhausted, overexerted, eyes sore from focusing and the edges of his mind blurred with the beginnings of a headache.
Jongin steps out of the car, legs shaking, and doesn’t turn around to survey the damage he’s done. He has no idea who any of these people are, really, other than that Kyungsoo knows them, and while he trusts Kyungsoo, he’s learned you can never really assume anyone’s honesty or intentions before you get to know them, even if they’re friends of friends. He might owe all of them, now, for the thousands of dollars he’s sure he’s just caused in damage, might have to join them to pay off the debt, end up in some weird indentured servitude situation.
Except, he realizes when he actually looks up, everyone is looking at him with interest and creeping smiles.
“That,” a tall guy with blond-dyed hair and horrible roots says as he approaches, “was some of the best racing I’ve seen for a first time drifter.”
Jongin almost chokes on his own spit at that. “I destroyed like… every car in the parking lot though.”
“Comes with the territory,” Minseok says, “it was good racing against you, man.”
“Are you in Tokyo for long?” blond hair asks, stare severe.
“Uh, yeah, I’m at university here.”
“Have you been street racing here at all?”
Jongin shakes his head.
“Would you be interested in racing with us, then? We’ve got a garage and we’d give you a car. All your damage tonight would be forgiven.”
“There’s no catch?”
Blond hair laughs. “You’ll have to learn how not to destroy things, and I can’t guarantee you’ll like everyone’s teaching methods, but other than that, nope, no catch.”
It’s too good to be true, and Jongin knows it. He’s sure he’s setting himself up for trouble in the future, for some kind of disaster. But the adrenaline is crashing in his veins and he’s itching, foot tapping at the pavement, hands toying incessantly with the keys to the Silvia. He’s missed racing, missed the way a steering wheel gripped too hard leaves indents in his fingertips, the way exhaust leaves an acrid layer under everything he smells for the next day, the way his body shakes and reacts after a race, jumpy and overeager and ready for anything.
“Sure,” he says before he can regret it, “why not?”
Three days later he shows up at the garage, escorted by Kyungsoo. They’re greeted by Kris, the blond guy, who, Kyungsoo’s told him, is the owner, a guy educated at the best schools in the US, from an incredibly wealthy Chinese family, with nothing better to spend his money on than racing cars.
Kris takes over after they share introductions. First there’s Joonmyun, dressed in an out of place short sleeved, plaid button down, chatting to a guy under a car who grunts in response. Kris yells “Jongdae!” at him and he wheels out, jumpsuit smeared with thick black grease, wrench in hand.
“Is this the new kid?”
“Yeah, name’s Jongin.”
“Nice to meet you,” Jongdae replies, “you did a helluva lot of damage to our shit, don’t think you can do that all the time. I don’t have time for that shit, there are some people here who are sloppy enough drivers that I don’t need another uncoordinated disaster to worry about.”
He shoots a pointed glance past Joonmyun to a tall guy lounging on a couch, phone held up over his face, eyes narrowed in concentration,
Kris laughs at Jongdae’s comments, which doesn’t do much to put Jongin at ease, but he ignores the discomfort in his chest and follows Kris past the pair to the couch.
“Chanyeol, this is Jongin,” Kris says, and the man he’s addressing tears his eyes away from his phone to look Jongin up and down.
“You’re the one who wrecked all that shit this weekend?”
“Is that all anyone knows about me?”
Kris laughs. “It’s not a bad reputation to have, you know, except maybe for dealing with Jongdae. You drove like you had nothing to lose. That says a lot about a racer.”
Jongin nods, not quite sure that he understands what Kris means. He’d been out of practice and amped up from watching other people drive, maybe even a bit jealous of all the fun everyone was having without him. There’d been no real conscious effort in his driving, towards any goals other than staying alive and embarrassing himself as little as possible. He wasn’t going to argue with Kris though, with the idea that there was something special to his driving, if it meant he was going to finally be able to race again. He’d forgotten how much he liked it, needed it, almost, until Kyungsoo had pulled up to his apartment complex in his black Toyota Supra, flames painted along the sides, flashy and loud and everything Jongin hadn’t realized he’d been missing.
Four men enter the garage after that, clad in leather jackets, exhaust thick in the air around them. One is Minseok, who greets Jongin with a smile before introducing the others: Yixing, Baekhyun, and Zitao.
“I’m going to give Jongin a car to practice on,” Kris says to the group at large before turning to Jongin, “and then would you like to come out to dinner with all of us?”
Jongin nods, and Kris breaks out into a grin.
The track behind the garage isn’t terribly large, but it’s got a tight turn that Kris assures him is precisely the type he needs to work on most. He hands Jongin the keys to an electric blue Lancer Evolution, before sliding into its passenger seat. Jongin slips into the driver’s seat, keys hot in his palm, pushing the key into the ignition and turning. The engine revs, but Kris places a hand over his before he’s able to shift into drive.
“The key to drifting is thinking ahead. I don’t know what kind of races you’re used to or where you learned to drive, but a lot of street racing is instantaneous, lots of on the spot thinking. With drifting you’ve got to do that, but you’ve got to learn the turns, too. There are only so many angles that can exist on a road, and each one is a little different. You’ll need to learn how to handle each and memorize them. Then you can add on all the stuff you already know how to do, all the reactionary driving and defensive maneuvering. Do you see that curve, over just beside the garage door?”
Jongin nods.
“That’s a pretty common one. I think you’ll remember it when we get close to it-there’s a very similar one on the path you raced this weekend. You need to start this sort of turn early. Not too early, just a few seconds earlier than you probably think you need to. Are you ready?”
“As much as I’ll ever be.”
Kris smiles and releases his grip on Jongin’s hand. “Good. Please try not to wreck this car, Chanyeol got it into a pretty rough accident a week ago and I think Jongdae might go ballistic if it gets damaged again.”
Jongin swallows and shifts from park to drive, engine roaring loud through the otherwise quiet late afternoon air.
“Did you manage to not crash it this time?” Jongdae asks when Jongin and Kris re-enter the garage.
“Did you hear a crash?” Jongin shoots back. He’s exhausted, having attended two classes in the morning and scarfed down lunch before rushing over to spend nearly two hours with Kris on the track. The rest of the room, however, bursts into laughter at his sudden attitude, and Jongdae slings an arm around his shoulder.
“Good job, kid,” he says before turning to ask Kris where they’re going to dinner.
Turns out there’s a cheap ramen shop just down the street, which they pile into, leaving almost no room for other customers. They order a couple pitchers of beer for the table, Chanyeol and Baekhyun ragging on Jongin about whether or not he’s old enough to drink, and while it’s annoying, Jongin settles easily into the ebb and flow of the ribbing. It goes in every direction, Jongdae and Joonmyun picking on each other for their clothing choices (Joonmyun’s are too nice for a street racer, Jongdae’s are too crappy to be seen in public), Baekhyun and Chanyeol bickering over just about everything, Yixing seemingly spaced out but darting in, occasionally, with surprisingly sharp comments. Jongin stays out of most of it unless he’s asked directly to talk, taking it all in as he nurses a pint glass between bites of the spiciest soup on the menu. He takes the subway home afterwards, body warm with the hum of alcohol and hot food and good company.
Kris sets a schedule for him: one lesson a week, and at least six hours of solo practice time. Different people teach him each time, and Jongin finds he likes the variety, likes how it lets him get closer to each of them without the chaos of the usual large group. Kyungsoo doesn’t teach him, because Kyungsoo is one of the newest members to start with, and too close with Jongin him to be a terribly good teacher. Joonmyun is precise and particular, Chanyeol is lax, Baekhyun seems chill but becomes stern when Jongin screws up, Yixing lets Jongin do his own thing until he notices the opportunity to tell him how to do something better, Minseok is talkative, the actual takeaways of his lessons easy to miss amidst his myriad stories. It takes two months for him to make his way through the whole crew, but once he has-his last lesson is with Minseok, who prefaces it by telling him he’ll be reporting to Kris on whether or not he thinks he’s ready to race-he’s greeted by everyone the next time he shows up at the complex.
“Congrats,” Kris says, “we think you’re ready for the race this Saturday.”
“That’s the Tokyo Tower loop, right?”
“Yup. Chanyeol and Baekhyun will both be going from our crew, but we’re allowed to put in up to three people. Would you be comfortable?”
Jongin doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t consider. This is what he wants, what he’s always wanted. He’s just never had the opportunity while he’s been in Tokyo, never had the time to find one before, and now that it’s staring him in the face, he’s not about to turn it down, especially not after having worked so hard for it.
“Yes, I’d love to.”
“Great,” Kris replies, “do you want to keep driving the Evolution?”
Jongin nods. No sense in messing with success, he figures.
Kris grins, and Jongin turns to look around the rest of the group. They’re all smiling at him, too, and Jongin feels their support seeping into his body, warm and encouraging.
It’s Thursday, and he’s got a class the next morning, but he gets drunk with the rest of the group, anyway. They grab dinner and beers-extras for Jongin, of course-at a nearby restaurant, then head out to a bar. Jongin’s certainly tipsy when they arrive, arm flung over Kyungsoo’s shoulders and vision just a little too bright in the center, blurred in batches at the edges, and then Baekhyun immediately orders a round of shots for the group. They raise their glasses, Jongin’s weight supported in part by the elbow he’s got on the bar.
“To Jongin,” Kris says, hand held highest over them all, “who in just two months has gone from being utter crap to good enough to race against some of Tokyo’s finest.”
Everyone cheers, their grins turned towards Jongin, and they clink glasses in a sort of circle before tossing them back. It’s pure alcohol, vodka or something else generic, Jongin’s not quite sure, and it burns like hell. Jongin realizes too late that he’d forgotten to hold his breath before downing the shot, and it hurts to breathe for a moment, the taste in his mouth too sharp, invading his nose. He inhales deeply, looks around at the rest of his crew.
“Not used to that?” Chanyeol asks with a laugh, slinging an arm over his shoulder and digging his knuckles into his scalp.
“I’m a mechanical engineering major,” Jongin shoots back, “I don’t have time to get used to it.”
“And yet you still have time to drag race,” Chanyeol replies, grip still tight on Jongin’s shoulders, “You need to get your priorities straight, man.”
“Says the guy who dropped out of school to drag race.”
“Hey, I’m not a dropout, I’m just taking some time off.”
Jongin rolls his eyes and manages to escape from the vice of Chanyeol’s arms, stumbling a little when he does. Baekhyun appears at his side, slinging an arm around his waist and steering him back towards the bar.
“Alright, so you can’t do shots. Let’s get you something you can drink instead.”
“I have class in the morning, you know,” he says while Baekhyun orders two whiskey sours. It’s not a protest so much as a fact.
“So do I,” Baekhyun replies, “but you only have a first race once, and you can’t get hammered tomorrow night since you need to practice the next day.”
Jongin nods. It’s sound enough logic. He turns his attention to the bartender, who’s mixing their drinks simultaneously, a bottle in each hand, liquid filtering down into each of two separate tumblers. Baekhyun pays for them both in cash, and hands one to Jongin.
“There’s pretty decent whiskey in this,” he says, “so don’t drink it too fast.”
Jongin nods.
He listens to Baekhyun, sips it slowly, but he still ends up, half an hour later, too drunk to really focus on anything, mind flitting from place to place as he sits with the rest of the group at a large table.
There is, however, one person that catches his attention: a tall, skinny guy, shoulders broad but hunched, lounging at the bar. He’s not Jongin’s type, per se, but he’s still good-looking, and Jongin finds himself unable to look away. The guy’s just sort of staring off into space, as if something terribly fascinating is happening on the ceiling in the middle of the bar, but Jongin can’t stop watching him, anyway, until Kyungsoo tugs on his elbow and leans in to whisper in his ear.
“What are you staring at?”
“The guy in the white jacket.”
“By the bar?”
Jongin turns to Kyungsoo, nods.
“I think that’s… his name’s Sehun or something, he sometimes races on our circuit in Shibuya. Drives this really flashy Benz. Friends with this dude Yixing knows named Lu Han.”
“Mmmmm,” Jongin says by way of reply. A man comes up to Sehun, talks to him briefly, blocking Jongin’s view. Sehun follows him out of the bar, and there’s a hint of something that Jongin thinks could be fear splashed across his face.
The next morning is rough. Jongin wakes up hungover on Kyungsoo’s couch, headache settled in every corner of his brain, light a bit painful over his face, stomach heavy in his body.
“Fuck, what time is it?” he asks aloud, and when there’s no response, he turns to grab his phone off the table beside him.
It’s apparently 11am, halfway through his class, but there’s a text message from Kyungsoo assuring him that he can copy his notes. He flops back over into the couch and lies there for a couple more minutes before slowly standing up. His mouth tastes disgusting, weirdly sweet but bitter at the same time, and his head hurts even worse after he’s stood up. He gets up shortly and makes his way to Kyungsoo’s bathroom to take a piss, then leaves the apartment, making sure the door is locked behind him, and shooting Kyungsoo a text to thank him. On his way back to his dorm he stops at a coffee shop, grabs an iced coffee and pours more milk into it than he usually does. His phone vibrates when he’s standing at a crosswalk, but this time it’s from Baekhyun.
Heard you didn’t make it to class today. Want to practice after lunch? Chanyeol and I are meeting around 1.
Sure, he types back, that’d be great.
Friday and Saturday crawl by, even with all the practicing they’re doing. Jongin is on edge, a little nervous but mostly just excited to be back on an actual circuit, back to racing in front of crowds, competing and, hopefully, succeeding. Baekhyun and Chanyeol give him shit for it but he can’t bring himself to mind. Time isn’t passing quickly enough for how ready he is to finally race again, and they help speed it up, even if just a little.
When the actual race time rolls around, the three of them drive with Jongdae from the complex to the starting point, where they meet the rest of the crew. Jongin mostly keeps to himself, pacing as per his usual pre-race routine, trying to walk out the few nerves that are busting out in his body, hot and uncontrolled. His eye catches, though, on a familiar face standing beside a silver Benz, chatting to someone Jongin supposes might be Lu Han.
He’s interrupted, though, by an announcement telling the competitors to head to the starting line to pick straws for race placement. Baekhyun and Chanyeol join him as he walks up, and he draws first row, second lane. They each offer him claps on the back and a few words of encouragement before walking off to their own cars. He’s positioned between a Japanese racer named Hiroki, who drives a yellow Taurus, and Sehun, who’s not really interacted with anyone except that single person, eyes focused in front of him, as if he sees nothing but the road they’re about to take off on.
The flags sweep down, and Jongin guns his motor, gets as good a start out of the gate as he can hope for. Sehun and Hiroki are easily ahead of him, but he’s not far behind. It’s a straightforward race: 5 laps from the starting point, running up past Tokyo Tower. Baekhyun and Chanyeol had explained it to him, taken him along it the previous afternoon so he was clear on what was to come, and he’s happy for that now as he drives along, engine loud and buildings blurring past.
Jongin keeps his eyes mostly on the road, on who’s ahead of him and what’s about to come. He does his best not to react to anything extraneous, but two laps in he’s still in third and Hiroki is driving dangerously close to Sehun, as if he’s trying to run him off the road. It doesn’t surprise him when it finally happens, but that doesn’t make him any less angry about it: his body is buzzing with adrenaline, looking for anywhere to redirect its excess, and it finds its target in the injustice of the crash. Sehun’s Benz is sent into a wall with one rough nudge of the yellow Taurus’s front bumper against its side. He flies past the wreck, noticing Sehun stumbling out looking unhappy but unharmed, and tries his best to catch up to Hiroki. He does so shortly after they hit the third lap, then passes him, with Chanyeol now in third behind them. Hiroki stays close through the next two laps, but doesn’t overtake him. He also doesn’t pull any semi-legal aggressive shit on Jongin, either, which he’s thankful for.
Jongin speeds through the third lap on sheer aggression and frustration, but he calms down when he comes in for the fourth. He’s still pissed, but it’s not boiling under his skin the same way anymore, not making him dangerous and careless. The turns are laying themselves out before him again, obvious and reasonable, and he’s taking them as they come. He crosses the finish line in first, the rest of the team running up to him when he comes to a stop to the side and steps out of his car.
“That was fucking amazing!” Kris exclaims, “are you ok? We heard there was an accident?”
Jongin nods. “Yeah, it was Hiroki and that… Sehun…? guy who crashed.” He pauses for a moment, fingering his keys. He’s not really sure why he cares so much, but there’s something that’s bugging him. “Did he ever like… make it back?”
The group exchanges glances, no one looking certain of anything. Kris shrugs.
“I don’t think so.”
Jongin takes a deep breath. “Kyungsoo, you said he… wasn’t from around here right? Like didn’t normally race this circuit?”
“Yeah,” Kyungsoo replies slowly. He looks like he’s about to say more but Yixing’s phone suddenly rings, cutting loud and clear even through the post-race noise.
He answers, nods as he speaks to whoever’s on the other end. “That was Lu Han,” he says when he hangs up, “he says Sehun’s lost and called him, but Lu Han came in his car so he can’t really pick him up. Jongin, would you mind going, since you know where the crash was?”
“Yeah,” Jongin says after a moment’s hesitation, worried he’ll come off too eager if he responds immediately.
“Thanks, I’ll let Lu Han know.”
Jongin slips back into his car after accepting a couple more congratulations from his teammates and thanking Baekhyun and Chanyeol for the good race. He starts the engine, turning on the radio this time. He drives normally, now, restraining himself from treating the now-familiar streets like a racetrack. They’re not, anymore, and he’s not competing either, just searching for someone he feels oddly drawn to. Sehun’s face when he’d left the bar last night, afraid and uncertain, lingers in his mind, mixing with images of him when he’d left his car, glaring but still, Jongin thinks, looking as though he were scared of something. Jongin is drawn to that look, to him, to this strange layer of something that seems to exist under his good looks, weighing down his wide shoulders. He knows he could be making it up, could be searching for what he wants in someone who exists entirely outside of him, who has his own purposes and reasons and emotions that Jongin is not privy to. He’s not sure why, exactly, it’s Sehun who’s captured his imagination: there are plenty of random good-looking guys he could be interested in, plenty of sad-looking ones, too, but it’s Sehun that sticks on his mind, planting himself there and staying even though Jongin’s got no reason to keep him.
He comes across Sehun on a small, residential street in the middle of the old track. He pulls up beside him and Sehun jumps, like he’s about to bolt, until Jongin unrolls his window and calls out to him.
“Sehun? My name’s Jongin, I was sent by your friend Lu Han to pick you up?”
Sehun bends over to look inside the car, face oddly close to Jongin’s. “Oh, you raced today, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Hiroki didn’t win, did he?”
“No,” Jongin pauses, bites his lip, “Uh, I did.”
Sehun laughs. “Much better than that bastard. Are you coming to give me a ride?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, thanks.”
Sehun looks surprised, but pulls back anyway and walks around the side of the car, opens the passenger door, and takes his seat.
“Is your… car ok?”
“Nah, it’s kind of destroyed. Probably could be fixed but I dunno, I don’t really have anyone to go to for the damage right now. The place I’ve usually used has… gone out of business.”
“I could maybe have my crew’s mechanic take a look at it?”
“You race with Kris’s team, right?”
“Yeah, Jongdae’s the mechanic. He’s pretty amazing.”
Sehun nods, considers for a moment. “That would be great. I’ll pay of course.”
“Cool, I’ll tell Kris to get it towed. Where am I taking you, anyway?”
“Uh, I live in Shinjuku, which is pretty far and not the greatest place to be, especially with a car like this, so you can just drop me off near a subway if you’d prefer?”
“It’s fine, I can take you to your place. Can you just direct me as we go?”
“Sure,” Sehun replies.
Jongin stops at a light and turns to look at Sehun. He’s got a couple cuts on his face but they’re barely noticeable, just a bit of crusted blood near his eyebrows and on his cheeks. Jongin’s a bit surprised that he’s in such good shape given the severity of the crash, on his car’s end, but he doesn’t have time to think about it more because Sehun catches him staring and he glances away.
They ride the rest of the way without conversation, their silence punctuated only by occasional directions from Sehun. When they reach his apartment complex, he congratulates Jongin on his win, thanks him for the ride, and ducks out quickly, sprinting up to his building as Jongin pulls away from the curb.
Sehun stays on his mind for the next several days, especially with his car in the shop. It’s Jongdae’s major project for the week, and so it’s out in the open more often than not, Jongdae underneath it or standing next to it drinking coffee and complaining to anyone who’ll listen. Jongin hates his inexplicable fixation, hates the way he’s constantly arguing with himself about whether or not he should be thinking about Sehun instead of focusing on schoolwork or racing. He wants to stop, ween himself off it, but he doesn’t know how to. His mind swirls with question: why did Hiroki hit Sehun, why does Sehun look constantly afraid, why can’t he stop thinking about him? He wishes he could shut his brain off, flick a switch and erase Sehun, but he can’t, and by the end of the week he’s adjusted to it, taught himself how to control his thoughts as best he can.
When Jongdae finishes up the car it’s just over a week after the race, and Jongin hangs around the shop for most of the day, practicing but also looking for an excuse to run into Sehun. He’s more disappointed than he’s willing to admit when Lu Han wanders in to pick up the car and pay with a check from Sehun. When Jongdae asks him why it’s him coming in instead, Lu Han replies with a shrug.
“He’s busy with something or other. I don’t ask questions, just help him out when he needs it.”
The next week, Jongin’s racing against Hiroki again. Yixing ends up winning the race, Jongin settling for third, but it’s not without its successes: he runs Hiroki off the road, into a wall such that his car will be smashed up but he’ll be left mostly uninjured. He gets a text from an unknown number after the race, and he opens it with curiosity.
hey this is sehun. heard from lu han that you knocked the bastard off the road. he deserved it.
Jongin saves the number before responding. He’s fucking excited about the message, grin spreading across his face and settling there even though he’s a bit embarrassed by how happy the simple text is making him.
haha no problem, he types hastily, stopping to take a deep breath before adding do you wanna grab dinner tomorrow?
The wait for Sehun’s reply is nerve-wracking. Jongin’s at a bar with the rest of the crew, a pint of beer half-finished in front of him, and Kyungsoo’s noticed that he’s become more interested in his phone than the conversation going on.
“Who’re you texting?” he asks, leaning over to try and peak.
Jongin shoves him away and shuts his screen off, turning it facedown and placing it on the table. “None of your business.”
Kyungsoo grabs his phone off the table in lieu of response, and they wrestle over it for a minute, Kyungsoo almost elbowing his drink in the process. The screen lights up and Jongin lunges for it, managing to grab it out of his hands before turning his back and hunching over it.
sure, it says simply. where?
“Oh, it’s that Sehun guy,” Kyungsoo says, chin resting on his shoulder. “Are you trying to bone him?”
“Maybe,” Jongin replies, writing out the name of a restaurant halfway between his campus and where he remembers Sehun’s apartment being.
“Have you even like… talked to him?”
“That’s why I’m asking him to dinner.”
“So you can buy him some wine so he’ll actually want to fuck you?”
Jongin turns around and shoves Kyungsoo. He knows he’s teasing, knows this is Kyungsoo’s standard way of acting and usually loves him for it, but right now he doesn’t really want to deal with it. He’s embarrassed enough as it is about his inexplicably strong interest in Sehun, and Kyungsoo’s not helping him feel any better.
“Ok, sorry, that was harsh. Good luck. I’ve heard he’s kinda flaky and elusive.”
Jongin nods. He can see that. He picks up his glass and takes a sip, waiting for Sehun’s next text.
yeah sounds good. let’s say 7? see you then.
Jongin grins to himself as he responds affirmatively and tucks his phone back into his pocket.
Jongin meets Sehun at the restaurant in a pair of jeans and a dark blue button down. Sehun’s dressed similarly, but his shirt is pinstriped white and blue. He’s already at a table and Jongin goes to join him. They exchange greetings, order glasses of wine when the waiter comes by to ask.
“How long have you been racing?” Sehun asks, “I don’t think I’d ever seen you around before last week.”
“I used to race in Seoul, but I haven’t until just recently here. I didn’t really have a way to do it, until I found out Kyungsoo was part of a crew and they asked me to join.”
“Oh, that’s really nice, having back-up.”
“Do you just… race on your own?”
“Mostly.”
“That must suck.”
Sehun shrugs. “It’s better than not racing. I’ve got, well, some connections, and Lu Han, so if I ever get run off the road-like last time-I’ve got people I can call for help.”
“Still, I’d hate to race without solid back-up. I don’t even really own the car I’m using, I think it’s Kris’s.”
“Kris and Joonmyun combined are probably rich enough to cover any damage you could do to it a few times over, I wouldn’t feel too guilty.”
“I don’t, it’s just that I wouldn’t have the opportunity without them, you know? I basically left all this behind in Korea to come to school here and be able to focus better, perfect my Japanese, see a different part of the world.”
Sehun nods. The waiter returns with their drinks and they place their meal orders.
“So you’re here for university?”
“Yeah, I study mechanical engineering. What about you?”
Sehun sips from his glass and looks away before responding. “I got a job here, basically. My family was having a hard time financially so it was my best choice. Things have been… kinda rough, especially since my Japanese is pretty bad, but racing has helped me a bit and stuff.”
“That sucks,” Jongin replies, and he knows it’s an awkward response but he’s not quite sure what else to say. Sehun, though, seems unaffected, and quickly changes the subject back to racing.
By the end of the night, they’ve each gone through a few glasses of wine, their faces tinged red with alcohol. They’re talking more freely now, Sehun complaining about his older brother and Jongin rambling about the absurd difficulty of his last mechanics problem set. When they finish their meals, they split the tab and wander out into the still-warm air of Tokyo in springtime.
It’s Sehun who makes the first move, slings an arm around Jongin’s shoulders and asks him if he has any roommates.
“I do but we’ve, uh, got separate bedrooms,” he replies, and Sehun grins.
“Could I come over?”
“Sure,” Jongin says as he weaves an arm around his waist, pulling him tighter. Sehun’s equal parts giggly and aggressive right now, and Jongin likes it, wants to see more of it, wants to explore more of Sehun.
They take the subway to Jongin’s apartment, ride the elevator up to his fifth floor apartment, and then stumble through the darkened living room to Jongin’s bedroom. Jongin doesn’t bother flicking on the light in his room, either, just shuts and locks the door, joining Sehun on his bed, where he’s already laying down. There’s enough light streaming in through his open window that he can make out the outline of Sehun’s body, the hard line of his nose and the contours of his lips. He sits down at the edge of his bed but Sehun pulls him forward and kisses him, soft and alcohol-laced, hands latching onto Jongin’s hips. Jongin parts his lips, lets Sehun’s tongue slide in, before Sehun tugs him down so they’re lying beside each other, legs entangled as they make out. Jongin presses closer, his dick starting to get hard as he grinds against Sehun’s hip.
“Shirts off?” Sehun asks and Jongin nods against his chest before pulling back. They each unbutton their shirts and chuck them off, pressing against each other again when they’ve removed them. Sehun’s chest is warm against Jongin’s, and Sehun moves from his lips to his neck, kissing and biting down while they thrust lazily against one another.
Sehun undoes Jongin’s belt and jeans, then shoves a hand inside and around his cock, stroking slowly. Jongin mirrors his actions, fumbling a bit more with the button than he’d like, then jerking him off, too, in firm, fluid strokes. The angle’s not the greatest but it’s good enough, and Sehun’s soft moans in his ear push him closer and closer to the edge. He fucks himself into Sehun’s hand, head of his dick rubbing against Sehun’s stomach, and he comes with a quiet moan, Sehun following after. Jongin rolls over to grab tissues of his nightstand, offering a handful to Sehun so he can clean himself off.
“Do you want to stay the night?” Jongin asks.
“Would you mind?”
“No,” he replies, sliding off his jeans, “I’d love it.”
Jongin wakes up next to Sehun, both of them clad only in their boxers, sunlight streaming in through the window. He checks the time on his phone-it’s 8am, and he’s got a class at 10. Plenty of time, he figures, to grab another hour of sleep.
Except Sehun’s awake, and Sehun’s got other ideas. When he realizes Jongin’s up, he straddles him, their cocks rubbing against one another through the soft cotton of their boxers. Jongin lets out an involuntary moan, and Sehun leans down to nip at his ear lobe.
“Come on, are you just gonna sleep the morning away or do you want to do something more fun?”
Jongin doesn’t respond, just lets Sehun kiss him.
“I really want to fuck you,” Sehun says against his lips, “your ass looked so great in those jeans last night, it’d be a waste not to touch it.”
Jongin arches up into his kiss as Sehun trails his hands along his sides. “Yes.”
“You have any lube?”
Jongin nods, points at a drawer, which Sehun walks over to and rummages around in for a moment.
“How long’s it been since you last bottomed?”
“A while.”
“Ok,” Sehun says, placing the bottle of lube beside him and tugging Jongin’s boxers down. He spreads his legs open, leaning down to bite the insides of Jongin’s thighs before slicking up his fingers and sliding one slowly inside Jongin.
“How’s that feel?”
“Good,” Jongin replies.
Sehun covers Jongin’s body with his own as he slips a second finger inside and kisses across Jongin’s chest, stopping to lick at one of his nipples, tongue hot and slick, teeth nicking across the skin.
“Fuck, Sehun, that’s good.”
Sehun looks up and grins, eyes glinting, before biting down on his nipple, harder this time and just a little painful, but still arousing. He’s got three fingers inside Jongin, now, rhythm steady and quick.
“You ready?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
Sehun stands up and yanks down his boxers before putting on a condom and lubing up his cock and returning to the bed. He spreads Jongin’s legs even wider, kneeling between them, one hand on his cock and the other on Jongin’s hip, before he slides in. He fucks Jongin slowly at first but speeds up, working his hips and stroking Jongin’s cock as he does.
They kiss messily while Sehun fucks him, mouths open and sliding against each other more than kissing, Jongin’s hands roaming over the expanse of Sehun’s back, his legs wrapped tight around his waist. Sehun comes with a moan and pulls out, takes off his condom and chucks it into the garbage.
“Can I blow you?”
“Yeah,” Jongin breathes, and Sehun goes down on him.
His mouth is hot and wet on Jongin’s cock, and he sucks him off quickly, head bobbing at a rigorous pace, tongue working along his dick as he does. When Jongin comes he threads his fingers in Sehun’s hair and tries his best not to pull, a low moan caught in his throat as Sehun swallows.
“That was a better wake-up call than your alarm half an hour before class, right?”
Jongin smiles, mind hazy and body lax, as Sehun lies back down beside him.
“Yeah, it definitely was.”
After a couple months of dating, of long nights spent talking and fucking and cuddling, Sehun still hasn’t come clean about what it his he’s mixed up in, what keeps his shoulders hunched and his expression bleak, what makes him sometimes disappear with flaky warning for several hours or a couple of days. Jongin has his suspicions, is pretty sure it’s something to do with money and something to do with racing for goals different than personal pleasure and a bit of extra cash on the side, but he doesn’t raise them. Sehun’s carefully quiet about that particular side of his personal life, choosing instead to focus on his family back in Korea and his job instead, and Jongin doesn’t pry.
Sehun shows up one afternoon at the garage with only a brief text of warning. “Fucked up my car last night,” he says when he walks in. “It still runs but… it’s not in good shape.”
Jongdae’s fucking around with Baekhyun on the other side of the room, but he turns to face them when he hears what Sehun’s talking about.
“Do you need it fixed?”
“Yeah. I’d pay again, like last time.”
Jongdae nods and stands up. “Do you have it with you? I’ll get the door open and you can drive it in and I’ll take a look.”
When he drives the car in, Jongin’s shocked by the amount of damage that’s been done to it. The door on the driver’s side is crumpled in, and Sehun exits through the passenger side. Jongdae, for his part, sighs when he sees it, but then glances at Jongin with a concerned look. Jongin shrugs.
“What happened?” he asks Sehun later, when they’re walking outside.
“Just… something careless, not a big deal.”
“Sehun, that looked like a pretty big deal.”
“Trust me, it’s not.”
“Sehun.”
Jongin stops walking. He stares at Sehun but he doesn’t meet his gaze, looks off to the side instead.
“Look, I can’t say much, I’ve just got… I’ve got some stuff I need to sort out. Remember how I said I had some money problems? I owe some people who can be… demanding and I’ve almost got it figured out.”
“Is this why Hiroki tried to run you off?”
“Sort of. But don’t worry, I’m working it out. It’s all gonna be fine soon.”
“Do you need help? I’m sure Kris and Joonmyun could back you if you agreed to race for us or something.”
“No, I don’t need any help.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Sehun replies, finally looking at Jongin. There’s determination in his stare, and Jongin backs down. He knows better than to mess with Sehun when it comes down to the personal things he’s ashamed of. He wishes he could help, but if Sehun won’t accept it, there’s nothing, he figures, that he can really do, besides stand by and be as supportive of possible.
For the next three weeks, Sehun comes in with terrible damage to his driver’s side and rear end and refuses to talk about it. The fourth time it happens, Jongdae pulls Jongin aside.
“Look, it’s not race damage. I think you know that. It’s deliberate, it’s being done to possibly hurt him-that’s why it’s all on the driver’s side. Do you know anything about who it could be?”
Jongin shakes his head. “He won’t tell me. I offered to help after the first time but he shut me down.”
“Well, the damage keeps getting worse-his door’s definitely gonna be permanently dented after this one. Where does he live in Shinjuku?”
Jongin thinks for a moment, describes the area to the best of his ability. It’s hard, because they mostly hang out at Jongin’s, but Jongdae seems to understand what he’s talking about.
“That’s Black Hand territory, I’m pretty sure.”
Jongin nods. He’s heard rumors of them, of a terrible gang known for extortions and getting mixed up in racing in certain parts of the city.
“Has he ever… mentioned borrowing money or anything?”
“Yeah,” Jongin says slowly, “he said something about that once.”
Jongdae nods. “I think he’s in a lot of trouble. I know he doesn’t want help but… I think we should talk to Kris about this. He’s dealt with them before. They’re not exactly scared of him but they know him and they know not to fuck with him too much.”
They walk together to the office Kris spends most of his time in. He’s chatting Joonmyun when they enter, but beckons them inside anyway. Jongdae explains what’s been going on, and Kris listens intently, face expressionless.
“That definitely sounds like Black Hand to me. Jongin, is there any way you could get him back here?”
“I can try,” he says and pulls out his phone. It rings twice before Sehun picks up.
“Hey Jongin, what’s up?”
“Could you come back to the garage?”
“For what?”
“We, uh, need to talk to you.”
“Is it about the damage? I know it’s worse this time, but don’t worry, I can pay it.”
He’s speaking flippantly, like he’s trying to avoid what he must know is the real subject. Jongin takes a deep breath before responding, trying to muster up all the severity he can in his tone.
“Sehun, we really, really need you to come over so we can talk to you. In person.”
“Ok,” Sehun replies after a long pause. “I’ll be there in twenty.”
An hour later, Sehun’s not there and he’s not answering his phone, either. Jongin’s worried but he’s trying not to let it show, until Kris turns to him and asks him if this is normal.
“Not… really. He might be avoiding this, but I don’t know, I think he’d come up with an excuse if that were the case. I think something’s… happened.”
Kris nods. “I think we should try and find him. Jongin, since you know where he lives, you go. I’ll come with you, since I know some of the people he’s probably dealing with. He’s most likely on foot, so I’m going to ask Zitao to come with us since he’s trained in hand-to-hand. Jongdae, are you up for it too?”
Jongdae nods.
“Joonmyun, you’ll be on call if we need back up? Get everyone else here or make sure they’re ready to leave from wherever they are when you give them the word.”
“Will do.”
“Great. I’m going to grab Zitao and take him in my car-you two head out together, we’ll catch up.”
Kris leaves the room when he’s done delegating, and Jongin and Jongdae follow suit.
“I’m coming,” Jongdae says as they’re running out to Jongin’s car, “because I’m also trained in hand-to-hand. So if anything happens and we have to get out of the car, let me get in front of you.”
“Ok,” Jongin replies, stopping at his door and unlocking it before sliding inside, Jongdae doing the same on the passenger side.
They peal out onto the street, car silent, engine revving, and head straight for Shinjuku. It’s late afternoon so Jongin can’t be as reckless as he wants to be, can’t speed through red lights and risk pedestrian lives, but he does the best he can with what he’s got, darting between lines of traffic and cutting off anyone in his way with abandon. Up to this point, he’s enjoyed being with Sehun, found him interesting and fun, good company and good in bed to boot. But now there’s something deeper, something pushing him harder and making him want to risk everything to keep him out of danger.
Jongdae notices the crowd up ahead before Jongin. A handful of men have someone surrounded in an alley, pinned up against a wall.
“Slow down,” Jongdae says as they’re approaching, and Jongin obliges. The man they’re holding up is definitely Sehun, and Jongdae confirms that he recognizes a couple of the guys as Black Hand members.
“Should we get out?”
“No, keep going till we get Kris in view, then pull over somewhere and I’ll run back. You stay here so you can drive us away when we get Sehun out.”
Jongin nods. Kris comes speeding into sight behind them seconds later, and Jongin turns down a side street, parking immediately. Kris pulls up after them, and he and Zitao get out of the car, Jongdae joining them and sprinting down. Jongin’s not certain he’s seeing correctly, but he’s pretty sure he catches a glimpse of gun harnesses on both Kris and Zitao. He swallows and leans back in his seat.
The next fifteen minutes are the worst fifteen minutes of his life. He doesn’t know how to fight, doesn’t want to fuck up Jongdae’s directions or any plans they’re putting into action, but he hates just sitting there, waiting for something to happen. He sits with his neck craned back, watching for someone, anyone, to come round the corner, waiting to hear anything that could mean someone’s coming or something’s happening. He hears muffled voices but that’s about it. There’s nothing clear enough for him to make out, and his phone stays silent.
When he finally sees them again, they’re not running, and they don’t have Sehun.
“We’re heading to Black Hand headquarters. Kris is going to pay off Sehun’s debt and then they’ll let him off.”
“Ok. Do you know how to get there?”
“Yeah, we’re following Kris.”
“Does he just… have enough money on him for it?”
“No, they’ve agreed to let him write a check. He has to give it directly to their boss, though.”
Jongin nods and starts the engine. He pulls a three-point turn as Kris turns right, then follows him down the street. They reach an unassuming office building, which they park in front of and enter. A guard pats them down and finds them clean, Kris and Zitao’s weapons apparently discarded in their car. They’re escorted to an elevator, then up seven floors and down a long corridor to an unassuming wood door. The guard with them knocks, and a voice inside tells them to enter.
They step inside. A man in a suit sits at a desk, flanked on either side by men clearly toting guns. Jongin swallows, palms sweating. Jongdae seems to notice his nervousness and pats him on the back reassuringly, offering him a smile.
“The guy at the desk,” he whispers, “is Takahashi. The guy on the right is Minamoto, his second in command, and the other one is Takuya, their best driver besides Takahashi.”
Jongin nods and focuses in on the conversation that’s already begun between the two leaders.
“So you’re willing to pay Sehun’s entire debt to us? That’s quite nice of you.”
“Thank you. I’ve already made out the check,” Kris says, reaching into his pocket and placing it on the desk. “I’m here to retrieve Sehun.”
“You think I’m going to let you off that easily?”
“That was the deal we just made,” Kris says, teeth gritted, “I was under the impression we had made an agreement that benefitted both parties. I am, in fact, paying his debt with three times the interest you originally charged him, calculated up to three years from now, since that was the timeframe of his final loan.”
“Oh, Kris,” Takahashi says with a smile that terrifies Jongin, “When will you learn that not everyone plays by your rules? We’re all writing our own laws here. Mine just happen to differ from yours.”
“What do you want?”
“It’s a simple request. Just a bit of proof. I want a race. Me and someone from your crew. It’s nearly seven, late enough for racing, so we’ll settle it immediately.”
Kris looks like he’s about to say something, but Jongin pipes up before he can open his mouth. “I’ll go.”
Kris spins around to stare at him, everyone else’s gazes falling on him, too. “You’ll what?”
“I’ll go. I’m the best driver you’ve got here, anyway.”
Kris looks like he can’t believe what Jongin’s saying, but Takahashi is smiling, delighted.
“Wonderful. Let’s head outside and settle this. Kris, I will accept your check as it is if this boy can beat me in a race. Otherwise I’ll double it.”
“And is this final? Your last rule change?”
“Unless he loses, yes. You have my word.”
Jongin climbs into his car and drives it around to the back of the building, where he’s directed by a guard. They’re starting on the street that runs past the rear entrance, and Jongin pulls up beside Takahashi’s black Genesis, heart racing, blood pounding in his ears. He’s never raced with such high stakes in his life.
A guard is calling the start, and when he lowers his hand Jongin takes off, the racecourse mapped out in his head. He drives with the best combination of speed and precision he can manage, trying to stay as far ahead of Takahashi as possible, so that he can’t pull any dirty shit on him.
He can see him in his rearview mirror, but he does his best not to pay attention to that and to focus on the road instead. Things are going smoothly, Jongin solidly in the lead, until halfway through the course a red GT500 pulls out suddenly in front of him. He turns and brakes hard, nearly spinning out of control and into a wall as he does, but he manages to recover just in time to see the red car approaching again. It’s Minamoto, trying to run him off the road. He swears under his breath. He probably doesn’t have any back-up: Kris had been commanded to stay at headquarters, and he doubts that the guards let him or any of the others take out their phones to contact anyone who’s back at the garage. He floors the gas and shoots off, much faster than he’s comfortable driving on on as narrow a street as he’s on right now, but he has no other choice. He blasts through a stoplight and barely avoids hitting several pedestrians, but he makes it out safely. His heart is beating faster than he can ever remember it having done in the past, adrenaline and blood pounding in his ears, hot and loud and impossible to ignore. Minamoto is still close behind, much too close for comfort, but he’s nearing the finish line and he knows his car’s got a little more to give him. He nudges down ever so much more on the gas, not daring to look at his speedometer, and it’s just the push he needs: Minamoto shrinks progressively, Takahashi barely visible, and he pulls into the finish line in first.
His entire body is shaking when he steps out. Sehun’s there now, waiting for him, and he runs up to him the moment he pulls up, enveloping him in a hug.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers over and over, patting Jongin’s back. Jongin barely hears him, too stressed to register anything going on around him, but after a minute it hits him. He did it. He won undisputedly. Sehun’s free of his debt and he’s beaten the leader of one of the most notorious gangs in the city.
“You were amazing,” Kris says, coming over and clapping a hand on his back. Both he and Sehun straighten up. “I didn’t see much, but what I did was some of the best driving I’ve seen, ever. And as for you, Sehun, Takahashi’s accepted my check and you’re now free of debt.”
“Thank… Thank you so much,” Sehun stutters out. “I… don’t know how to repay you.”
“Race for us?” Kris offers. Sehun nods, and Jongin leans up to kiss him, adrenaline hot in his veins but something else running alongside it, too, something even more exciting and, just maybe, more dangerous.