Rush

thirty eight

My train of thoughts was broken as I heard him come down the stairs, a pile of clothes in his arms. “Here,” he said, offering them to me and gently pushing me towards the flight of steps, in case I didn't have the energy to do it myself.

The shower was hot and long, something I had desperately needed after a day as troublesome as mine had been. As I showered, I thought about Baekhyun and how he must be worried about me not showing up—or maybe he wouldn't be worried at all. And Taeyong, what was he feeling right now? The thought was too much to handle, but even as I pushed it away, it sneaked back to me every few moments.

One thing I knew for sure was that I was too scared of the idea that I might not be able to let go. Of him. Or Vernon. Maybe even the others, which was the last thing I needed if I wanted to cope with a new life gracefully.

The water ran down my body in rivulets, comforting, waking up every nerve in my body. I was still tired when I got out of the bathroom, but still relaxed, where I had been as tense as a stretched elastic band when I'd first entered it.

Minhyuk's clothes smelled like him, like the racetrack. It shouldn't have been comforting, given all that had happened because of my desire to race on it, but somehow it was. I pushed back my hair and went downstairs again, where the boy in question now had a fire going on.

His eyes flickered to me like the flames in the fireplace, and stayed there for a moment before he looked away, his face radiating discomfort. I froze in my place, remembering the same look in his eyes from the night in the bar, and realization hit.

The best of us, Seulgi's words came back to me, and guilt rose in my throat.

“I'm not the best cook, but I can make ramen if you're hungry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking down. “Scratch that, you probably haven't eaten in a long time, you must be hungry.” Still avoiding eye contact, he got up from his position and hurried into a room which I assumed was the kitchen.

Slowly, I sat down on the couch, facing the warmth of the fire. Of course he would have felt weird seeing me in his clothes. Internally, I cursed myself for being so inconsiderate. This was going to be an awkward night.

I closed my eyes, feeling the fire light sunlight on my face as I waited for him to come back. My stomach was already grumbling at the thought of food, even if it was as common as ramen. At that moment, I probably would have been ready to eat just about anything.

As he came back with two steaming plates balanced in his hands, I offered him a grateful smile—as much as I could manage of it, anyway—and blood rose up the skin of his neck. We dug in, sitting opposite each other, waiting as slowly as possible to avoid conversation, which was close to impossible since I was famished.

His shoulders were broad underneath his sweatshirt, the muscles in it rippling every time he raised his arms. It was plain, black in color, so the wet stains from when he had helped me didn't show. I watched him eat without seeming to, turning the thought of what to say over and over in my mind.

“That wasn't as bad as you'd made it out to be,” I murmured as soon as I was done, my first words in hours. “You're actually a decent cook.”

He offered me a faint smile, looking up for a split second. “I try.” He swallowed, and it was quiet again for a few minutes. “If I may ask—what were you doing in the middle of the street when it was raining…?” His tone was hesitant, bashful, almost.

I took a couple of moments to digest the question, even though it was pretty straightforward. “Had a falling out in the middle of a car ride.”

Although the answer had been less than satisfactory, Minhyuk nodded like he understood. “The races will be starting up again in a day or two,” he said, steering the conversation towards a lighter topic. “You must be excited.”

My lips curved into a wry smile. “Less excited than I had expected,” I said, poking my tongue into the inside of my cheek. “So much has happened, it's almost like I'm used to the adrenaline I craved so much earlier.”

He nodded again, gaze flitting momentarily to my shoulder as if he had just rememeber my injury. “How's the wound?”

“Healed. Well, almost.”

“It's been a weird couple of weeks,” he mused, playing with his fork. “I had thought they'd use the time window of of your shoulder still being unhealed for another try, but they've been unusually silent.” A frown tugged at his eyebrows. “It's almost like they've forgotten about you.”

“Trust me, that's not happening,” I muttered under my breath. “So you'll be taking part in the races this time?” I asked, mind going back to when he had disappeared for some time in the middle. Now that I thought of it, he was probably staying away from the biker issue.

“Yeah.” His deep Cupid's bow arched up as his pouty lips quirked into a subconscious smile. That brought a mirroring smile on my own face. His enthusiasm almost reminded me of myself. “This time, definitely.”

I tilted my head to the side, studying the bright change in his facial expression with a smile. “You like racing?” I asked, smiling.

He shrugged, the smile on his face widening. “Just the winning part.”

I chuckled as he leaned back into the couch, looking happier than I had ever seen him. There were still worry lines around his smile, but that had been a given.

“My mother won't be coming home tonight, so you can use my room,” he said, pointing upwards with his fork. “I'll take the couch, so you know where to find me if you need something during the night.”

If I hadn't known that he wouldn't take no for an answer, I might have resisted. Instead, I nodded, guessing that he probably didn't want either of us to touch his mother's room, wherever the hell she was. “Thank you,” I said softly.

He smiled tightly, casting his eyes to the floor. “I take it that you were supposed to go to Baekhyun for today? In one of the safe houses, where you've been staying recently?”

“Yeah.” I tapped my thigh, where I'd kept my pocket knife after taking it from my wet jeans. “Probably something for the paperwork. It's not supposed to take so much time, though, so it might be something else.”

His bottom lip moved between his teeth, a thoughtful look coming over his face. “Paperwork? For what?”

I blanched, a million thoughts running through my mind in the span of a split second. He doesn’t know? Why doesn’t he know? “For the car's repairs.” The lie rolled smoothly off my tongue. “The first bullet got the hood, and I've never been to that part before, so he's getting the 'official’ work done for me.”

Minhyuk's mouth opened and closed, forming an ah even if he didn't say it. Thankfully, he looked unaware of how my heart was beating wildly in my chest. The conversation had taken a sudden turn, at least for me, and the reason was the minutest detail that had snagged my attention.

Minhyuk didn't know about the paperwork. Meaning he didn't know that I  was leaving. And even if he wasn't a core part of the racers’ deals, he was still informed about everything—that much I knew because of the conversation we'd held in front of the Jaguar. So if that was the way things ran here, something as important as my departure should have been immediate in his mind.

He didn't know about me leaving.

Which, consequently, meant that none of the racers knew that I was leaving.