As the car whipped by just a few feet from you, the wind blew up your hair all around you and you plugged your ears uselessly against the loud growl as it raced by. Your friend Yuta was part of the underground car racing scene, and while you usually never came to his races—mostly for fear of it being busted by the cops and thus getting you arrested or something—he managed to convince you to come to this one. Mainly because he had burned through all of your typical excuses: work—he looked up when it closed himself; studying—you were on break from college at the moment; other plans—he so coyly pointed out that you don't have other friends besides him; and of course, being arrested—they won't arrest the spectators.
How you had even become Yuta's friend truly baffled you. He ran a mechanic shop as his day job, and you just so happened to have stumbled into his shop when your brakes decided to fail and nearly kill you. Having nowhere else to be or any way to leave, you hung out in his shop for the next few hours while he worked on another client's car and then your own. You ended up talking the whole time, eventually evolving to something pretty akin to best friends over the next year. And finally, finally he was able to drag you to a race.
Just behind the car that had already shot by you was Yuta's, a sleek white car with red piping and details along it. He loved that car probably more than he loved his own mother, honestly. You cheered him on, well aware that there was no way he could actually hear you from inside there.
The crowd was made up of you, a group of men that you were pretty sure were some of Yuta's other racer friends, some unfamiliar people that you knew had to pay the mildly intimidating bouncer for entry (your friendship with Yuta had thankfully gotten you excused from that), and a couple random teenagers who came thinking that it was so badass and criminal to be here. All packed onto a rickety set of metal bleachers in the middle of a dirt lot far outside the reaches of the urban city center you called home.
You weren't sure why this one was any different to him than the others, why he had relentlessly tried to persuade you this time. With your eyes still on the track, you didn't notice that anyone was making their way towards you until they plopped down beside you, creaking and rattling the entire structure you were on.
It was Hendery, one of Yuta's employees who also happened to be in your Public Speaking class last semester. You would talk to him if the occasion arose, always fairly friendly. He offered you a smile before refocusing on the track, "Yuta finally got you out to one of these?"
"Yeah, somehow," you scoffed, watching the tight race.
"Did he tell you why this one was special?"
"No, why?"
"The guy he's racing just came here from Germany a few months ago and is undefeated."
"A few months? Don't you guys have one race a month? Two or three races is nothing."
"Try four. All of them against Yuta."
You looked over at Hendery again, eyebrows shooting up in surprise, "Really?"
"Yep," Hendery seemed enthused that he'd gotten your attention again. "He beat Yuta at his first race here, and ever since Yuta has been throwing out the schedule in order to have a rematch."
"That's not fair to you guys."
He shrugged, "We don't care, it's entertaining to see someone put Nakamoto Yuta in his place for once."
"Is Yuta good?"
"The best. Well, until this guy came around."
Hendery pointed back to the track just in time for you to see the picture-perfect finish. Yuta had lost by over a car's length, eliciting mixed reactions from the audience. The man beside you snickered, while the teenagers probably would have been as excited as they were no matter who won, and the group of men varied between boos and yells of elation. You were surprisingly happy that the other guy had won as well, knowing that Yuta could often times get cocky and self-aggrandizing.
They both put their cars in park and climbed out, shaking hands in a very polite and even friendly manner. Hendery leapt to his feet along with the other guys who were already storming their way down to the track.
"You coming?" He offered you a hand up, which you gladly took, needing it to remain stable as the entire bleachers shook and creaked under the stampede of large men.
Once it was less wobbly, Hendery let go of your hand and led you down towards the track, trailing far behind the others. He suddenly couldn't contain himself, running ahead of you to join in the group of boys crowding and teasing Yuta for losing again.
They had all breezed right by Yuta's opponent, who watched on with a look of loneliness, one that you could see for only a moment before he seemed to notice you staring at him, eyes flicking up from the helmet in his hands to look at you. His face broke out into an inviting smile as he set his helmet inside the open window of the passenger door before fully turning to face you.
"Hi?" He greeted you questioningly, still with that warm and light smile across his face.
"Hi," you echoed, unsure of exactly what to say. Glancing briefly at where you were pretty sure Yuta was, all you could see what a mass of yelling men. Yeah, you could kill a few minutes talking to this guy.
"I don't think I've seen you at one of these, right?"
"Oh, no, you haven't," you confirmed, ushering in another bout of awkward silence before you so cleverly decided to ask him, "So, what's your name?"
Real smooth, Y/N.
"Yangyang."
You remembered that Yuta and Hendery had told you that racers often went by nicknames or other names around the track, mostly to keep their identities secret as part of the "this is kind of illegal" thing with underground racing. Hendery was actually his racing name, his real name of Kunhang almost never passing through yours or Yuta's lips.
Even assuming that Yangyang was this man's racing name, you weren't sure why you were so curious to learn his real one. After all, you never called Hendery 'Kunhang.' But nonetheless, you found yourself asking, "And your real name?"
"That is my real name. Liu Yangyang."
"Oh, cute," you stumbled over your mistake, managing to embarrass yourself even more with that small confession. While you absolutely did think the boy in front of you was cute, you had no intention of admitting that to anyone ever, especially not the boy himself.
Even smoother, Y/N.
"Wh- but I just—" Yangyang gestures wildly to his car, Yuta's car, and the track, desperately trying to remind you of his smashing victory that took place just moments ago.
His distress at being called cute amused you, "Just because you drive a fast car doesn't mean you can't be cute!"
"You're annoying," he declared, eyes glistening with mirth. He was teasing you thankfully.
"Oh come on, Yangyang!" Yuta had apparently escaped his other friends and slung an arm around his competitor's shoulders. "Y/N's joining us for dinner! Now go change, you smell like gas."
"I wonder why."
"I can't believe you didn't say congrats to me first!" Your friend let him go to instead throw his arm around your shoulders this time, and you rolled your eyes as you were practically forced to inhale gasoline fumes now.
"First of all, you don't congratulate someone on their fifth loss," you shoved him off of you. "And you alsosmell like gas."
Your friend sighed melodramatically as he started walking away, completely unfazed by you, "Alright, I'll be out in fifteen. You're riding with me, right?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"You always have a choice, Y/N. For example, Lucas could take you."
Wong Lucas was one of Yuta's racing friends as well as being a frequent customer at his mechanic shop, usually for the multitude of minor crashes he would get into seemingly every other week. You didn't want to be in his car the one time it wasn't a minor crash. Not to mention that you hardly knew the man past his (racing) name and his visits to the shop.
"Seeing as I prefer to live, I don't really have a choice."
"I know," he grinned mischievously before taking off for the makeshift building they had set up nearby, Yangyang yet again just ahead of him.
The boys couldn't have chosen a dirtier, slummier dive bar than the one you were currently in. They had packed all ten of you into a large corner booth, ordering every greasy and unhealthy thing on the menu as well as more than enough alcohol for everyone. But admittedly, you were kind of having fun, smushed in between Hendery and Yuta as they were having completely different conversations with each side. Hendery was speaking in fast-paced Mandarin to Lucas and two men you were pretty sure had been introduced to you as WinWin and Ten, surely their racing names. Yuta was having an engaging conversation about car engines with the other young guys who worked at his shop: Mark, Jungwoo, and Jisung.
Park Jisung was still in high school, working part-time at the shop. The fact that he was out this late at night, at an illegal car race, and was friends with so many adult men would have been concerning to you. But you knew the truth of it, he was homeless, and Yuta gave him a job and a roof over his head as long he promised to keep going to school and keep out of trouble. Excluding the trouble Yuta got him into, of course.
That left you and Yangyang, both quietly eating and drinking across the table from each other. You'd caught him looking at you a couple times, and on the third time he decided to finally talk to you.
"So why haven't you come out to a race before?" Yangyang had decided to ask you, popping a fry in his mouth as he waited for your response.
"I like to limit the probability that I get arrested," you replied, to which he grinned.
"That's half the fun."
"You're insane, you're all insane."
"Maybe."
"So, Hendery mentioned that you just came here from Germany?"
"Yeah, I did."
"Why?"
He chuckled at your blunt question, "Study abroad opportunity."
You weren't quite expecting that. Who goes to study in a foreign country and ends up joining the underground car racing scene?
"What are you studying?"
"Biomedical engineering."
You didn't even let yourself be amazed, instead becoming immediately confused, "And you race cars?"
"It's a hobby," Yangyang shrugged nonchalantly, as if racing cars was the most logical hobby for a biomedical engineering student to have. "Are you a student?"
"Yeah, but it's nothing near the level of biomechanical engineering."
"Well what are you studying, then?"
"Cosmetic chemistry. Making the formulas for makeup and other kind of beauty products."
"Really?" Yangyang seemed surprisingly interested in this, tossing another fry in his mouth as he eagerly prompted you to continue, "What kind of stuff do you want to do with that?"
"I'm really hoping to continue on either to join a large cosmetic company and create new and better formulas for their products, or to maybe even branch out and start my own company. I'm not quite sure which yet."
"If I wore makeup, I'd buy whatever products you make."
You laughed lightly at his sincere comment, "Thanks, but it's not just makeup. Shampoo, conditioner, face wash, really anything you put on your body is part of cosmetic chemistry."
"If you make a shampoo, I'll be all over it," he promised, gesturing wildly with a fry in hand before taking a deep sip of his soda.
Yuta tapped your shoulder then, keys in hand as he and Jisung were half-standing in the booth ready to leave, "Hey, Jisung has school tomorrow so we're heading home."
Knowing that Yuta was supposed to be your ride to your own home, you found yourself reluctant to leave Yangyang. Pulling out some bills from your wallet that you knew would be more than enough for your share of the bill, you were about to tuck it under your plate when Yuta stopped your hand, a shit-eating grin on his face.
"No need, Y/N," he focused in on Yangyang. "Winner gets the jackpot, winner buys dinner."
"I feel less like a winner and more like a sucker at this point," Yangyang shook his head, but nodded for you to put you money away. "Really, I've got it, Y/N."
Hesitantly but also with the reminder that Jisung needed to get to sleep for school the next day, you did before reluctantly elbowing Hendery and half-standing as well.
As word slowly made its way down the others from Hendery and they began filing out to let you three leave, you gave Yangyang a casual farewell, "See you around, Yangyang."
You could've sworn that you'd seen disappointment grace his features before they were cool and collected again, giving you a simple goodbye paired with a casual wave, "See you, Y/N."
☆
In the passenger seat of Yuta's car, you found yourself still thinking about Yangyang. He intrigued you, to say the least. There was so much more about him that you wanted to know. 'See you around,' you scoffed to yourself as you remembered your words. When even was the next time you'd be able to see him? His and Yuta's inevitable rematch next month? Were you ready to brave another illegal outing just to see Liu Yangyang again?
There was a sudden pinch on your cheek, and you instinctively slapped the hand away from your face. The hand apparently belonged to Jisung, who was cradling it to his chest with a pout, "We're at your place, Y/N."
Outside the window was the familiar view of your old and slightly-decrepit apartment building, and you immediately threw the car door open.
"Thanks for the ride!" You gave a cheery wave to Yuta through the open window as Jisung climbed over the console into the passenger seat you had just been occupying.
"We've got practice tomorrow afternoon if you want to come watch," Yuta offered, and you arched your brow. He'd asked you to come to races plenty of times before, but never a practice. You honestly didn't really know that they had practices for race car driving. What did they even practice?
More importantly, you questioned his reasoning, "Why the sudden offer?"
"You're still on break, right? It's something to do."
Suspicious, but mulling over the idea in your head, you mused, "I'll let you know."
"If you decide you want to come, be at the shop by one."
With that, Jisung's window was rolled up and Yuta took off down the street well above the speed limit. Still with his offer bouncing around in your head, you input your code and started making your way up the five flights of stairs to your tiny apartment. Yangyang came to your mind, and you briefly wondered if he'd be at the practice tomorrow.
☆
You curiosity had gotten the best of you, as you were stepping into Yuta's mechanic shop at twelve fifty-two the next day. He was underneath an SUV and rolled himself out when he heard your footsteps against the concrete floor. With a victorious grin, he leapt to his feet and grabbed a rag to wipe at the grease and oil all over his face, hands, and exposed arms.
"I'll go change then we'll head out," he started walking back towards the office in the corner of the building, and you remained where you were.
"Where the other guys?" You questioned loudly in order for him to hear you through the door.
"Jisung's at school and I let the guys off at eleven for practice."
"That was two hours ago."
"Yeah, practice starts at noon."
"Then why did you tell me to meet you here at one?"
"It's called being fashionably late, Y/N," he was shaking his head as he emerged from his office in new clothes. They didn't look to be much cleaner than his previous ones, but at least they weren't soaked through by his sweat.
Your suspicions must have been apparent on your face as he conceded, "And I had to finish tuning up a couple cars for clients that are picking them up after my 'lunch break.' I am a responsible business owner first, contrary to popular belief."
He grabbed his keys and gestured for you to leave the garage ahead of him, closing the metal shutters and locking the padlock before leading the way around the side of the building to where he parked his own car.
The ride leading out of the city was nice as you kept the window rolled down, your hair tied back, and your hand out the window, enjoying the firm but cool caress of the wind. As you started getting closer to the dirt lot, you could see the colorful arrangement of people and cars coming into focus. A bright blue car with equally neon yellow detailing around it, a muted grey car with bright orange detailing, and finally a sleek black car that had a distinct purple driver's side door were whipping around the track as Yuta pulled up to where the other cars were parked.
You were watching the practice race with such interest you didn't even notice that Yuta had parked the car and gotten out until he stuck a hand through your open window and pinched your nose.
Recoiling away, you glared at him and opened the door into him. He managed to just avoid getting slammed in the crotch by the door handle as you climbed out. Looking back to the track, you just managed to catch the ending. The black car won, with the blue and grey cars trailing much further behind.
"Yangyang showing off as always," Yuta shook his head, but you didn't miss the hint of playfulness in his words.
You remembered Yangyang's car being dark, but because of how late it was when you first saw it, you didn't quite remember seeing the purple door. Nonetheless, you followed Yuta with interest as he approached the track, a few more guys coming down from the bleachers to join you.
"Back at the track, Y/N?" Hendery asked, surprise evident in both his tone and his face.
"Had nothing better to do," you shrugged noncommittally, looking back over to where the three drivers seemed to be talking over their practice race again.
Yangyang was there, as Yuta had said, in his dark black racing outfit, helmet still on as he stood with Lucas and WinWin, the latter two seemingly bickering about something. As you got closer, you could hear that they were debating who had gotten second and third.
"WinWin got second, sorry Lucas," Jungwoo interrupted from the other side of the three men, having been the one watching at the finish line for places. He didn't actually seem all that sorry.
The other man scoffed, but accepted the loss, "I'll get you next time, LoseLose."
"You say that every time, Lose-cas," WinWin retorted, wide grin on his face still from the adrenaline you were sure had built up from the race.
At their terrible puns on each other's names, you audibly hissed as you cringed, the other guys snickering along as well. Yangyang's chuckle was muffled from inside his helmet, and you couldn't look away as he leaned back against his car, hands reaching up to remove the helmet. Underneath, his hair was flattened to his head, which he quickly fixed with a few runs of his fingers through the damp locks. His face was justglistening, and you couldn't imagine how hot it was to be in a helmet and full-body outfit like that out in the middle of practically a desert, no matter the weather outside.
"Hey, Y/N!" A somewhat-familiar voice caught your attention, and you tore your eyes away from Yangyang's visage to look over at Mark, who had appeared out of nowhere at Jungwoo's side. "I don't mean to be rude but, why are you here?"
"That was still a little rude, Mark," Jungwoo informed him quietly, offering you something akin to an apologetic smile for his friend's question.
You were unfazed by it, instead caught off-guard by the eight pairs of eyes now focused on you. Once more, you feigned your earlier cool composure when Hendery had asked you a similar question, shrugging yet again, "I'm on break from college right now and haven't been called in for work, so it's just something to do."
"Glad that we're your last choice," Ten sighed, inciting a teasing chorus of agreements.
After they'd decided they had poked enough fun at your phrasing, they returned to their practice, which you were coming to learn was just a bunch of practice races of varying lengths with whoever wanted to drive right then. Yangyang hadn't driven again since the first race you'd walked in on, grabbing a water bottle and keeping himself busy either at his car, in the pit-stop-esque building they had, or addressing his clothes.
Finally, they had managed to drag him back out for a race, and you were slightly worried. Not whether or not Yangyang would win, that was a given, apparently. But rather for if he and Yuta would survive, as Lucas had also been thrown in there for the heck of it. Thankfully, they all managed to make it out of there alive, practically neck-and-neck at the finish.
Apparently there had never been such a close margin for first in a race involving Yangyang, as not only the three drivers, but also the other five men who had been vaguely spectating all came clamoring over to you en masse. You had been assigned to watch for placing at the finish line, a job you were now regretting to have accepted, as they were very rambunctious and very in your face.
"Who won, Y/N?" Yuta called out, quieting the others around him as they all waited with bated breath for your answer.
Apologetic and mostly sure, you said, "Actually... it was Lucas."
Immediate chaos.
Yuta melodramatically fell to his knees in defeat as the larger man celebrated his victory, jumping and running around as he yelled and whooped, picking up a very surprised Ten. Lucas tossed the smaller man in his arms in excitement, ignoring his friend's protests at this treatment. Hendery and Mark were congratulating Lucas, following his erratic path around the area as he kept running with Ten in his arms. Jungwoo and WinWin stayed back to console Yuta before the three of them were overtaken by the spectacle of Lucas, solemnness turning to easy and bright laughter.
The only one who hadn't joined in on the chaos was Yangyang, who took a seat a little way down the bleachers from you, lost in thought. You wanted to say something to him, but you couldn't figure out exactly what. Apologize? Offer your condolences? Make a witty comment?
When Lucas finally seemed to be coming down from his high, he set Ten down less-than-gently and jogged back over, Hendery and Mark in tow. He seemed to be heading towards Yangyang, stopping in front of the boy who was holding his helmet in his hands, staring at the reflective shield in thought.
Lucas stuck out a hand towards him, "Good race, Yangyang!"
Yangyang looked up at him, half a smile on his face as he accepted the handshake, "Yeah, it was. Congrats, Lucas."
Yuta was at your other side, setting his helmet down on the seat beside you as he stretched his legs out, having finally gotten up from his kneeling position. He looked at his watch, "A couple more races then we need to clear out, okay?"
The others agreed, self-organizing who would be racing next and who would be spectating next. Yangyang didn't seem to be getting up, so you decided to scoot over closer to him and try to talk to him again.
"Hey," you said quietly, not quite sure how he was feeling.
The half-hearted half-smile from earlier was gone as he turned to you with a full, genuine grin, "Hey, Y/N."
"Off day?"
"Something like that," he shook his head, resting his elbows on the seat behind him to lean back, closing his eyes, looking almost peaceful as he seemed to be basking in the sunlight for a moment. "I didn't get much sleep last night."
"Why?"
"Research essay."
"You had an essay assigned over break? That fucking sucks."
Yangyang let out a short burst of air, almost a chuckle at your comment, "Not quite. It's my year-long research essay, it's not due until the end of the semester. I just worked on it a little last night."
"Again, why?"
"It's something familiar, and I couldn't sleep anyway, so I might as well have done something productive."
"You're... incredible."
His eyes shot open at this, looking at you in confusion, "What? Why?"
"Anybody else—including me—would've just been up on the Internet or something not productive if we couldn't sleep," you explained, feeling almost like you were talking to some kind of scholarly superhero at this point.
"Oh..." he flashed you another smile, and you found yourself longing to see it again. "Well, thanks."
"You're welcome."
There was a brief silence, and then someone shouting your name distracted your attention to the track. Five cars were lined up this time, and you focused in on Yuta, who had apparently yelled out your name.
"Yeah?" You called out to him, itching to keep talking to Yangyang.
"Will you watch for the finish?" He screamed over the sound of the car engines. "It's six laps!"
Giving your friend a thumbs-up, you then eagerly refocused on Yangyang. He sat up straight, turning his body on the bleachers in order to properly face you. You mirrored his actions, feeling unnecessarily happy at how he seemed to be focusing all of his attention on you.
"So where do you work?"
"I'm an intern at a cosmetics company lab. But that's unpaid, my actual paying job is part-time at a law firm just filing and that kind of stuff. Normally they let me come in whenever I want, but since it's still the holiday season, their hours have been irregular, so they call me in when they need to."
"Unpaid internship? That fucking sucks."
"'You're getting paid in valuable experience,'" you mimicked the phrase you'd heard multiple times over from anybody whenever you brought up that all your hard work didn't earn you any money to eat or pay rent with.
Talking to Yangyang was easy, even if there were moments where one of you would stumble over your words or lose your train of thought. But there wasn't a single moment when you two weren't entirely immersed in being with the other. Which was kind of a problem, when there were suddenly seven guys standing beside you, one of whom had just slapped you on the back of the head.
"Y/N, were you watching?" Yuta, the slapper, questioned, very clearly already knowing the answer.
"Uh, no, sorry," you admitted sheepishly, feeling your face and ears heat up as you silently realized the reason, 'because I was talking to Yangyang.'
The five guys that had been racing all groaned in unison. "Rematch, Yuta watches this time," WinWin declared, to which your friend nodded in assent.
"Alright, last one!"
When they had dispersed, you and Yangyang made eye contact again and burst out into laughter. A light and airy feeling ballooned inside your chest as you sobered up from your laughing fit, falling back into your easy and exciting conversation again. The rematch had come to a close, and while they were all distracted with getting the results from Yuta, the boy beside you suddenly shot to his feet, looking to you mischievously, "C'mere for sec."
"Where are we going?" You asked suspiciously, nevertheless following him behind the bleachers.
Your heart rate sped up as you tried to figure out where he was taking you and why. The two of you ended up at their little pit-stop shack, and you wondered why he had taken you the back way and been so secretive about it too. In the corner of the shack were some rusty lockers that looked like they had been ripped out from a school some decades ago, navy blue paint chipping and exposing the metal to the air.
Yangyang swung one open, retrieving a drawstring bag from inside. Sticking his hand in the bag, he unceremoniously pulled out his phone, deftly opening it before handing it out to you, open to a fresh Contact. You were a little unprepared for this and took some solace in the fact that his cheeks were a dusted pink too as he waited for you to input your number. Hopefully that wasn't just from his racing suit.
Handing it back to him, you heard some commotion outside, and looked over in time to see most of the other guys coming in, probably to get their own stuff from the lockers. Hendery looked at you and Yangyang with intrigue, but before he could open his mouth, Ten had.
"Oh, what's this?" He mock-gasped, "Did our little Yangyang just get Y/N's number?"
"Not a big deal, guys," you retorted, focusing in on Yuta to get you out of this, "Isn't your lunch break ending now, responsible business owner?"
Begrudgingly, he agreed, "Yeah. Bye, guys."
They vocalized their disappointment at your departure from entertaining them, and you smiled to yourself as you walked away, already feeling your phone vibrate in your pocket with a new text.