✓ UNLIKELY MATCH | HEESEUNG

9 - Slow Pit Stops

What about Haruka? I ask myself. She deserved more than the love I had for her, and I decided that parting ways would be for the better. She's a beautiful person, inside and out, and I really, really miss her. Haruka was not just my girlfriend, she was the only person I could go to, the only person whose arms were wide open for me when I struggled and needed someone to lean on. I still remember when she went home with me, when we ran through the rain and kissed like two hungry lovers under the moonlight. 

But all I did was let her go, and do I regret it? Every damn day. I can't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, things could have turned out differently if I had fought harder for us. But then again, maybe it's for the best that we went our separate ways. Maybe it's better to have loved and lost than to have stayed in a relationship that was slowly suffocating her. It was never suffocating for me, Haruka was perfect, like the most beautiful poem you've heard in a lifetime, I was the one who couldn't give her what she deserved. And that thought, that realization, haunts me every day.

"She's... she's doing fine," I lie, unable to bring myself to tell my father the truth about the situation. The words are heavy on my tongue but they never manage to escape and so, until now, our breakup is still a secret I keep buried deep within me.

The call goes on for a little longer as I watch Raven judge me with her big, golden eyes. I mean, she's just a cat, but sometimes it feels like she can see right through me. Like she knows all my secrets and innermost thoughts. It's a strange feeling, being under the scrutiny of a tiny feline, but somehow comforting at the same time. After I hang up, I drag my body to my bedroom and open the drawer next to my bed, staring at the small velvet box that I've kept there for so long. Today I open it, allowing myself to see the ring that I once planned to give to Haruka. It's a simple band, nothing extravagant, but it holds so much meaning – or at least, it did. I remember the day I bought it, how my heart raced with excitement at the thought of asking her to spend the rest of her life with me. Now it's only an ironic reminder of the love that slipped through my fingers.

Frustration creeps through my veins and that day, I become too sensitive and fragile, like a delicate glass sculpture on the brink of shattering. That's why, when I realize that my pit stop is still as slow as ever, I start taking it out on myself and the team. "Heeseung, we're trying to-" One of the crew's mechanics starts to say, but I cut him off, my voice sharp with frustration.

"Can you just fucking stop making excuses and do your damn job?" I snap, my voice escalating with each word. The mechanic takes a step back, clearly taken aback by my outburst. But instead of apologizing or trying to calm down, I continue to berate them, my anger bubbling over like a pot on the verge of boiling over. How am I supposed to win the damn Grand Prix if you take so much fucking time to change a damn tire? We've been discussing this for the last half hour!"

I might be overacting, but it's true the pit stops are slow as fuck, and no matter how much I practice and push myself to the limit, if they don't get their act together, all my efforts on the track will be in vain and the Grand Prix will be nothing but a disappointment. The mechanic, now visibly flustered, tries to explain, but I'm not listening. All I can hear is the sound of my own anger roaring in my ears.

"Heeseung, take a break. Yelling won't solve anything." It's my coach, standing next to me with a towel and a bottle of water in his hands. I sigh, snatching the bottle from his hand before pouring it on my head to cool off. The water trickles down my face, momentarily soothing the fire of frustration burning within me. I toss the empty bottle aside and run a hand through my damp hair. "I'll work on the pit stops, we'll do good." I glance at him for one last time before I press my tongue against the inside of my cheek and walk away. Fuck it. 

But when I step out of the garage and walk upstairs, the sight of Sena standing there makes me frown and pause. What in the hell is she doing here? I walk to her, grabbing her arm before pulling her to a quieter corner. I'm angry and frustrated as fuck, and I'm surprised at how gentle I'm able to be with her. "What are you doing here?" I ask, my tone softer than I expected. Why am I softening up? Maybe it's because deep down, I know she has nothing to do with the pit stops or my frustrations on the track. But still, why am I being so gentle with her? It's not like her presence here is helping matters.

"We're about to get married, the least I can do is spend time with you and watch your races." She rolls her eyes, pulling her hand away as she turns and stares at the racetrack. "You even made an account and stalked mine. Stop acting like you don't want me around."

I blink in surprise at her blunt statement, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up my neck. "I didn't stalk you," I protest weakly, though I know it's a feeble attempt at denial. "And I don't want you around, so you can stop pretending like you're doing me some kind of favor by being here." The way she turns to me and raises her eyebrow as if challenging me is only adding to my frustration. "Look, if you're here for the media, the fans down there took enough pictures to last a week, so spare me the act-"

Before I know it, Sena is putting a towel around my shoulders, making me realize how tense I've become. "You're getting all worked up. You need to calm down." She says and I pause, feeling her touch and her concern seeping through my defenses.

"Stop acting like you care," I mutter, closing my eyes to block out the chaos around us. "You should leave now that everyone saw you here with me. I'm not in the mood to entertain you." But even as the words leave my mouth, I can't help but feel guilty for being so harsh with her. Yet, I still turn around with the towel around my shoulders, walking away from her without another word.