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hhaechansmoless · 4 months ago

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LIGHTS OUT PT.1

pairing: f1driver!haechan x PRmanager!femreader

genre: fluff, angst, romance

description: Part of the Beyond The Grid series. Haechan, bold, aggressive and unrelenting, is back after a narrowly missed opportunity to become the world champion in 2024. This time, he's set his sight on making it all the way to the top. You, as his newly appointed PR representative, are assigned with the task of keeping up with a world of high stakes, unpredictable twists and well, him.

warnings: strong language, stressful situations, descriptions of car crashes and physical exhaustion, slowburn, honestly quite f1 heavy

w/c: part 1 - 17.8k part 2 - 15.8k

glossary taglist

a/n: its here after so long cries. I loved writing this so much!! it's heavy on the f1 technicalities and races and stuff so I hope I've done justice to that. So excited for this season to start (not a red bull fan so in no way am I manifesting max 5th but !!! haechan <3). The number of tabs and informatory articles and vids I watched to make this as authentic and real as possible will haunt me but I would not have it any other way. This is for all my f1 + kpop fans, but to those who are only a part of one, hopefully you will fall in love with the other. The glossary, I think, will help a lot for those who don't watch f1 so I'd suggest keeping that tab open as you read this. I truly hope you guys love this as much as I do! comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3 (if you want to be notified for pt 2, i don't have a taglist yet so u can just write a comment/dm/ask!)

BAHRAIN, PRE-SEASON TESTING, DAY-1

February 26th

Well, that Mercedes is fast on the straights, Haechan thinks as he swoops into the slipstream. The heat is already getting to him. He’s sure he had asked for the evening time slot. Maybe he’ll talk with his engineer about this as soon as he gets out of this godforsaken car. To be fair, it isn’t godforsaken, not really. In fact he has an inkling that it’s far from that as he watches his delta on the screen blink green— faster than his last lap— but nowhere near the times posted by Mercedes and Ferrari.

“Am I good to overtake?” Haechan speaks into his radio.

“Let’s take it easy. No need to exert too much Haechan. Sector 1 and 2 look good, let’s shave a tenth off in sector 3 and we’ll box to check the metrics.”

Three laps later and fifteen minutes to lunch, the roar of the engine grows louder as the RB21 pulls off the main straight and into the pit lane. He comes to a stop and the mechanics swarm the car, taking off its wheels and pushing it into the garage. Haechan climbs out of the cockpit removing his navy blue helmet and balaclava, hair ruffled up. You think of walking over to him. You really need to introduce yourself and inform him about the media before he heads over to lunch, but for the moment you stay back, eyeing him.

He looks pissed and it’s definitely the sandbagging. That’ll be one question the journalists will definitely ask and Haechan cannot respond in the way you think he will now. Helmet still in hand he walks over to the pitwall to discuss with his engineers. You look around his side of the garage and everyone looks drained. It’s been a long day and Haechan has had quite a lot of feedback on the car, which is good, you suppose. But the team is tired and it’s obvious that they long for the break before the grind starts again with his teammate.

Haechan and his senior race engineer walk back into the garage and you overhear a part of their conversation as you pick up your work phone and your small notepad before trailing slightly behind them.

“At least Mercedes remembers how to build a car again,” His engineer tries to lighten him up, “Don’t worry, our simulations predict our raw times will be faster anyways.”

Haechan mutters something and finally sets his helmet down on a desk next to his car. You take this moment to walk up to him.

“Hello. It’s time to go to the media pen.” You smile slightly as he turns around to look at you for a second before nodding and following you out.

“The media will definitely ask about the comparatively slow pace. You should probably-”

“I mean, why would they even ask about pace during testing, really?” He interjects, and you realize the bite of irritation is still present.

“Look, they’re not looking for the truth, they’re just looking for attention grabbing headlines. You don’t have to give them this energy. Play it cool please, it really matters what you say in there.”

Now you think he’s annoyed with you as well, as he finally tilts his head to look at you, “So what do I say?”

“You’re supposed to look like you know something they don’t. Keep it simple, confident, and let them wonder. Say something like…” You glance at your notes and repeat your carefully crafted line: “‘Testing is about data, not lap times. We’re happy with the direction we’re heading in, the team is constantly making improvements, and the real test will be race day.’”

You come to a halt outside the pen and stare at him. For a moment he seems to want to push back, but to your good luck he sighs, “All right, I’ll play along this once. Get your mic ready Ms….” He trails off , already ahead of you, “Wait, who are you again?” Haechan looks over his shoulder and you shake your head.

You exhale, “Your new PR rep.” But he’s already gone and you scramble for your phone to record him as you push past others to make your way to the journalist he’s talking to.

God may the whole season not be this way.

AUSTRALIA, ALBERT PARK GRAND PRIX CIRCUIT

Thursday, Media day March 13th

It’s a pleasant day, Haechan thinks as he steps out of his motorhome. A little too early in the morning but pleasant nonetheless. Johnny, his personal trainer, closes the door behind him, shutting out the chilly air from the air conditioning inside.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” Johnny whistles, swinging an arm around Haechan’s shoulders.

Haechan shrugs, “Same old, to the hospitality and then I think I have a meeting with the engineers before media duties start.”

Johnny watches as Haechan taps his ID against the scanner at the entrance, the soft beep barely audible over the sudden clicks of cameras. A few photographers are stationed near the barricades, lenses focused on the driver as he enters the paddock. He watches as Haechan subtly straightens his back, unconsciously adjusting the collar of his polo.

“Smile a little man,” Johnny teases, “Don’t want them thinking you already regret your choices.”

Haechan scoffs, shaking his head but it works as the corners of his lips lift up slightly. “Would be surprised if they haven’t already decided that, seeing our testing results.”

“Oh yeah, about that. I heard you’ve got a new P.R manager now. Seems like the team’s going about a different plan for this season eh?”

“Can’t say I like it very much,” He sighs, “And yeah, I met her during testing. Think I have a meeting with her team as well. God help me escape from the bullshit I’m about to say in the press con today.”

“She’s that bad?” Johnny raises his brows.

“No, I mean. The team strategies aren’t up to her, are they?” Haechan breathes out as they make their way to the Red Bull hospitality centre. Climbing up the stairs, he notices the Mercedes hospitality beside theirs, Kim Doyoung standing outside conversing with his manager. He catches Haechan’s gaze and waves making Haechan walk over to him. Johnny waits outside, pulling out his phone to make sure Haechan’s practice sessions are scheduled timely for the weekend.

Haechan jogs back over in a minute or two. Johnny holds the door open when the younger speaks again, “It’s just that, I know the car is quicker than we expected and a lot better than last year but at the same time, I haven’t driven at my full potential yet and it’s giving me a hard time seeing where I stand.”

Johnny can’t do anything but nod in sympathy.

“And honestly? Doyoung seems quite confident. He’s more laid-back than usual, you know? Was joking around with me. It’s been a while since I’ve seen their team like that.”

“Well,” Johnny laughs, softly pushing him into his meeting room, “Good for him, he hasn’t had a car worthy of his potential for a good few seasons, has he?”

Haechan hums, slightly unconvinced and cautious before he shakes himself out of it, “Where will you be until I get out?” He shoves his hands in the pockets of his hoodie as he turns around to face Johnny.

“I don’t know. I was thinking of making new friends. Maybe that new PR lady of yours if she’s around.”

—

“Now, coming to you Haechan. Last season was quite a close one, I mean, you managed to keep the fight up till the last 4 races. At a point I’m sure we all thought we’d see a new world champion in 2024. How do you suppose this season will turn out? Do you think that you have a car that can challenge for the drivers championship again? Where do you think the improvements have been made compared to last year?”

“Well, improvements have been made everywhere… That’s the aim, is it not? Last year, towards the end it got a bit hard. We had issues with the floor and made a few strategic mistakes. But I think over the winter break, the team’s been working really hard and we’re confident that we can put up the fight this season too.”

“You have a new teammate this season, Lee Jeno. How will the team dynamics work out between you two? Do you think that, apart from other teams, your teammate could be your biggest opponent?”

“Yeah, Jeno’s done a great job at VCARB so it’s nice to see him here now. I mean, we’re both here to push the team forward. At the end of the day, we both want the same thing. If he’s my biggest opponent then that just means we’re doing something right.” Haechan laughs.

As the moderator moves on, Haechan zones out, fingers unconsciously tracing the outline of the two bulls on the can in his hand. He’s pulled back in when he's mentioned in one of Mark's questions.

“Towards mid season last year it was almost a three way championship fight. It was quite exciting to see Haechan and you pit against each other. After all, we've been seeing the two of you compete with each other in all the junior series too. How did it feel to reach that high rung with a friend?”

“We spoke about it during that time, actually.” Mark grins, “We've basically grown up competing with each other but to do it in F1 really felt like we were close to making it. I look forward to it this year too.”

“We should bet on it!” Haechan winks at Mark making the other drivers and the reporters chuckle, “It's about time one of us gets used to losing, you don't think?”

Walking out of the press room, Haechan is slightly surprised when you appear right beside him.

“How'd I do?”

“Not bad,” you answer absentmindedly, scrolling through your notes, “The question about Jeno, you handled very well. The one about Mark, though? I think it's a very easy opportunity for these journalists to twist your words.”

“I was just joking, he knows that.”

You hum, “He does, but really, these people are out for drama and you just gave them a nice headline.”

Haechan scoffs, “They should thank me then, don't you think? First media day of the year and it's probably the most interesting thing they've heard.”

He turns towards you when you laugh. “See! you do think that I'm funny.”

“I met your trainer this morning, by the way. Don't know why he suddenly came up to me. But you have some blind fold challenge to do for the F1 youtube channel and he's told me to tell you to be careful. Do not bump into anything, please. And try to be yourself there, I guess.”

“Woah, I've never had a PR person tell me that before. You're kind of nice, ____.”

“And you remember my name. We’re both making progress, I suppose.” You've come outside now and there are significantly more photographers than there were when you first came.

Haechan, slightly ahead of you, stops and turns around, walking backwards. “Hey! That was once and you didn't even introduce yourself to me.”

“Didn't have the time,” You shrug, “All the best. The challenge is being filmed near Alpine’s hospitality. You're doing it with Lee Chan. I have to head back to the hospitality for a second but I'll be there by the time you're done.”

—

Sunday, Race Day March 16th

The red bull garage looks quite empty without the cars and the mechanics. The pit walls are a bit too high for you to see from the garage but you’re sure they must be setting the car up on track. This isn’t your first gig in the PR industry, but it’s your first time in this sport and you can’t help but observe the remaining strategists and engineers in awe as they move around with calculated aim. There’s still about 15 minutes until the race begins but the air crackles with excitement and expectations.

You hear clattering behind you and panic for a second. You did make sure to stand in a corner where you wouldn’t be in the way of anyone’s job. But upon turning, you notice that it’s Haechan who accidentally drops his phone.

You still as he catches your eye. What are you supposed to do at moments like this? You don’t have any important information to tell him, but you feel like you’re meant to be saying something. Would he want you to speak to him at such a crucial time? You stride over anyways.

Haechan slides his headphones off when he sees you approaching.

“Hey. Aren’t you supposed to be outside for the national anthem soon?” You quip.

He checks the time on his lockscreen and grimaces, “Well, yeah, shit. Don’t want to get fined on the first race, do I?”

You purse your lips before nodding. He takes his headphones off and thrusts them in your hands. You stare back at him, confused.

“Give them to Johnny when he gets here, please. My phone too. He’ll be here in a few minutes, I suppose. I need to go.” He points at the garage door. You nod again, slowly, and he does too before inching towards the pitlane.

“Hey!” You yell as he’s almost out the door, making him turn around, “Win this thing, yeah? I’d rather hear questions about that than listen to another round of ‘holding back’ narratives.” You think you might pray for him, although you doubt he needs it.

Haechan simply winks.

—

When the helmet goes on and the overalls zip up, Haechan becomes an entirely different person. The transformation is almost immediate — he’s focused, determined. On the screen inside the garage, you’re a little stunned at how his eyes, the only visible part of him, are incredibly hard and intense. His gloved hand pushes the visor down and he steps into his car. The crew around him is finalizing the last of their car checks and as they move away and back into the pitlane, the crowd almost quietens for a moment.

“Radio check.” Haechan hears through his earpiece and the final step is complete. Like clockwork, he feels his mind clearing up, revising last minute strategy. He fires up his engine, hears the muffled roar of the others around him.

“Loud and clear,” He responds. The green lights come on near the starting line.

“Formation lap begins.”

The next two minutes go by in a flash, and before he knows it, Haechan lines up to the second grid position. To his right and slightly ahead at P1 is Choi Seungcheol’s Ferrari. Behind and next to him are the Mercs of Joshua Hong and Kim Doyoung. He knows that Seungcheol is already being considered for the season’s favourite before it even starts. With the insane qualifying lap that he put up yesterday to the driver’s championship wins from the last four seasons, it’s obvious that he’s the one Haechan should be aiming for.

The grid falls silent as the last car positions itself. Haechan’s hands tighten around his steering wheel. The first red light flicks on.

One…two…three…four…five.

He's always thought that the following two seconds before the start are the most cruel and crucial. The final preparation.

“And it's lights out for the first time in 2025, here at Albert Park circuit! Seungcheol successfully manages to keep his lead, heading into the first turn there, and OH! Haechan comes close but it is not quite enough as he slips back into 2nd position.” The commentator begins.

In the garage, the team, you notice, has already set up the tires for both drivers. The mechanics have set up chairs and are beginning to settle down, helmets on and ready for the show. You inch a little closer to the screen, eyes flying to the pitwall once to look at Haechan's race engineer already beginning to talk and check in with him.

You don't know the specifics of what goes on behind the scenes, honestly. So you can only imagine what goes on at the pitwall.

Lap 15 comes around in no time and you hear the other cars pitting to change their tyres. Looking at the screen, you realize the Ferrari and Haechan are still out, within a second of each other but a good 5 seconds ahead of Doyoung’s Mercedes and Jeno’s red bull. The mechanics have been watching the fight between Doyoung and Jeno for third place, but they get up now and rush over to where the tyres have been kept, pulling them out and preparing themselves for a pitstop, Haechan’s, you assume.

By lap 37, everything seems to be going fine for you. There hasn’t been anything notable and you’re glad for it. Haechan and Seungcheol, known for being aggressive drivers, are surprisingly keeping in clean, which means less awkward questions for Haechan to deal with. It’s only the beginning of the season, you think. People won’t question him too much if he doesn’t win. Right now, you know there isn’t much that can happen to prevent him from getting on the podium.

By lap 37, things are not going fine for Haechan. He was supposed to get ahead of the Ferrari in the first ten laps, but God, Seungcheol is making it hard. Three times now, he’s tried to overtake him on turn 13 but every single time he comes up short.

“How are the tires feeling, Haechan?” His engineer asks.

“Fine, I think I can go for a few more laps.” He’s approaching turn 13 again, “What’s the gap ahead?”

“0.96s, DRS has been enabled.”

Haechan decides against using DRS and instead goes off the race line, making the Ferrari move outwards to block him. He fakes out, hoping to catch the inside of the turn, but it’s tight and Seungcheol is quicker in blocking him again.

For a split second, Haechan feels the rear end of the car shifting and he instantly steers in the opposite direction to bring it back under control.

As they approach the pit entry, a marshal holds out a lap board. 20 more laps to go. With the way the Ferrari is going, Haechan figures he should probably pit before for the undercut . But just as he thinks that, he sees Seungcheol swerving into the pitlane. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Seungcheol's in the pits, when do you think you’ll come in?” His engineer’s voice cuts him off.

“What tyres is he on?”

“He’s going on a pair of mediums. It might be close at the exit, watch out.” Haechan looks into his rear view mirror and sees the Ferrari exiting the pitlane. Haechan leads the race now, but Seunghcheol is right on his tail, not more than a second behind.

Haechan adjusts his grip on the steering wheel as he nears turn 3. Don’t want to lose the position as soon as we get it, do we Haechan?

“Taking the inside line is a bit of a risk, Ferrari 0.7 behind you.”

Turn 4 is close. Too close. If he gives Seungcheol the outside line now, it’s over. All he’s left with now, is coming up with a good defence.

The RB21 is really quick in the corners, the audience realises as he accelerates even while approaching a turn, trying to maximise the gap before the heavy braking. Haechan slams the brakes at the last moment possible. The Ferrari is close now, almost at par with his rear wheels. For a moment, it feels like he’s got him now, but Haechan gets on the throttle early, trusting the Red Bull’s grip to carry him through. Inside line, now.

He asks for the gap again. It’s too small, far too small for his comfort but it isn’t like he’s left with any choices. On turn 4, again the Ferrari gains on him.

You think it's a sight to see, honestly. Two cars, almost parallel to each other, who’ll come out as the winner? You hope they don’t touch, that nothing bad happens.

Haechan thinks that he’s- Fuck there’s no time for thinking really, PUSH. His legs are starting to hurt from all the accelerating and braking but he grunts through jaw clenched tight beneath his helmet. He doesn’t have time to think about fatigue, about the burn creeping up his calves. Seungcheol is right there, matching him move for move, waiting for the slightest opening.

Turn 5 is fast. Barely a turn at all if you’re brave enough. Haechan keeps his foot planted, resisting the instinct to lift, trusting the downforce to hold him steady. The car twitches slightly under him, tires screaming against the asphalt, but he holds firm.

Seungcheol does the same.

Shit.

“Gap?”

“0.4. He’s still in DRS range.”

Of course he is.

The DRS detection line is approaching fast. If Seungcheol stays within a second, he’ll have a straight-line speed advantage down the next stretch. Haechan makes a split-second decision—move slightly off the racing line, force the Ferrari into dirty air, disrupt his momentum.

It works. Seungcheol hesitates for just a fraction of a second, and that’s all Haechan needs.

He launches out of Turn 6, flat-out now, heart hammering as he glances at his mirrors. The Ferrari is still there, still menacingly close, but Haechan has bought himself a few more meters of breathing room.

“Choi has a 5 second time penalty for speeding in the pitlane. Well done, gap is 0.8.”

Haechan almost sighs in relief. A five second penalty is great — if he manages to keep him behind the entire time — that is.

“Where is Jeno?” He asks, maybe there could be a Red Bull 1-2 for the first race of the season, after all.

“Jeno is 3.4 behind you.” Holy shit, it could actually happen.

The next 6 laps are uneventful, but Haechan’s thinking hard now. He’s just lapped a Sauber and there’s going to be more cars in front now, less clean air.

“Who has the fastest lap?”

“It’s Choi, he did a 1.24.”

“I’m coming in now, put me on softs.”

This time you turn your head away from the screen and stretch your neck to see outside. You can’t see him, not with the twenty something mechanics surrounding his car, but the pit stop is quick, so quick. One moment he’s here, the next he’s not. The screen shows you he’s on the softs. There are ten more laps to go. It’s looking great.

“Choi is in the pits to serve his penalty.”

Haechan’s a bit confused when he hears this. Why risk losing more positions. But he doesn’t have the time to worry about Ferrari’s strategies when the damn Aston Martin in front of him isn’t giving way. He looks to the side to see the blue flags flashing, so really-

“What the fuck is he doing?” Haechan complains over the radio, voice sharp with frustration. The Aston Martin should’ve moved by now, but it’s still hugging the racing line, forcing him to adjust his approach into turn 5.

“Blue flags are out. He needs to move,” his race engineer reassures him, but Haechan can hear the slight edge in his voice too.

“I know he needs to move—”

The Aston finally veers slightly right, but not enough. Haechan has to lift off the throttle to avoid contact, losing precious tenths in the process.

“Fucking finally,” he mutters as he sweeps past, but the damage is done.

“Gap to Choi?”

“4.2. You lost a few tenths there.”

He exhales sharply. It could be worse.

Nine laps to go. His tires feel good, grippier. The car is responding well, but he needs to make up time.

He flicks the mode switch on his steering wheel. A little more power.

“Going for the fastest lap,” he announces, fingers tightening over the wheel.

He barely hears his engineer’s response as he throws the car into turn 9, carrying more speed than before. The speedometer climbs—290, 295, 300 km/h—before he slams the brakes hard into turn 11, trusting the downforce to do its job.

Less than a minute from then, you see Haechan’s name on the screen flash purple. Fastest lap 1.23.056

The next two laps go by in a blur, his focus razor-sharp. Each turn, each braking zone - perfect. His engineer is giving him updates, but he barely registers them.

Then—

“Yellow flag, turn 6. Stay sharp.”

Haechan’s heartbeat spikes.

“What happened?”

“Looks like a Williams spun out. Shouldn’t be a safety car.”

He presses his lips together. Good. A safety car would ruin everything.

Five laps to go.

His eyes flick to the steering wheel display. His lap time delta is in the green. He can get the fastest lap again.

“Mode push?”

“Not required. You already have the fastest lap.”

He ignores his engineer.

Into turn 9, he keeps his foot flat on the throttle. The RB21 flies. He brakes late into turn 11, the car dancing on the edge of grip, but it sticks. His heart pounds as he floors it again.

Purple sector two.

With three more laps to go, he’s stopped seeing the Ferrari in his mirror, instead, now it’s the other Red Bull.

“Gap to Jeno?” He’s a little excited now. It’s been a while since he’s had to compete with a teammate.

“1.4. Keep it clean, please.”

So Jeno’s out of DRS. Haechan isn’t too worried. His tyres still feel great and Jeno’s tyres won’t be doing too good as he’s back on the hards. But just to be safe, just to get that gap, he goes a little faster.

Back in the garage, the Red Bull team are at the edge of their seats. The first race of the season and both their drivers are on the podium. You think everyone’s hoping they don’t crash into each other, mess up on the last few laps.

On track, Haechan hears his engineer through his earpiece, interrupting a few seconds of silence, “Fastest sector 1. You’re doing good. Gap to Jeno is 3.2.

He doesn’t respond. There’s no room for distractions now. Just focus.

He can see the line in the distance. The finish line.

“Two laps left. You’re 3.0 ahead of Jeno.”

The pressure’s mounting, but Haechan blocks it out. There’s no way he’s letting the lead slip now. He can almost feel the podium beneath his feet, the thrill of a victory, the rush that’s been missing since last season.

“Careful with the rear. Stay focused.” His engineer’s voice is calm, but it’s clear he’s watching closely. The car’s rear is loose, and Haechan can feel it through his grip, but he steadies himself, resisting the urge to back off.

The final lap.

Haechan’s heartbeat echoes in his ears as he sees the final lap board waved. He’s so close now. He can almost taste the champagne.

Haechan is cruising through, and you can’t see his car on screen anymore. You suppose they’ll show him again when he nears the finish line but right now, Seunghcheol isn’t far from Jeno. And with his older tyres, Jeno seems to be struggling. You aren’t really concerned. If this lap goes well, which it definitely will, your job for tonight might just be over. There won’t be questions that are too awkward, maybe other than the slightly rude remark Haechan made behind the Aston. But it was the Aston’s fault, so he won’t be on the receiving end of criticism.

You’re snapped from your momentary distraction when you see the mechanics cheering, jumping off their stairs and running to the pit wall. You smile, slowly moving a bit closer. They’re holding onto the grills as Haechan zooms past the chequered flag.

Must be great to watch both their driver’s finish well, You think as you back off. You’re going to need your ID pass for the media pen and you’ve left it in the hospitality. You think you might have to brush up some of the lines you’ve written down too. You won’t have much time before the post-race conference.

Haechan can hear the roar of the crowd as he crosses the finish line. He eases off the throttle, the adrenaline still coursing through him as he begins his cool-down lap. He lets out a little laugh, hearing the congratulations through the radio. First race, first win of the season. It feels great.

Behind him, he sees Jeno’s car and slows down a little more to let him catch up. Through the radio he can hear the cheers erupting in the garage. He looks to his right and shoots a thumbs up to Jeno, who returns the gesture.

The pit crew awaits. The podium awaits. He’s back.

JAPAN, SUZUKA INTERNATIONAL RACING COURSE

Tuesday April 1st

Tucked away on a quiet street, the ramen shop is smaller than you expected. You hesitate at the entrance, glancing at your phone to double-check the address before stepping inside. The air is thick with the scent of broth and garlic, warmth settling over you as you take in the cramped space.

The restaurant, if you could call it one, is so small that it only houses about four two-seater tables. The person at the counter asks you if you'd be alright with sharing a table with someone and you agree. She leads you to a man in a bucket hat and a leather jacket, head bent as he scrolls on his phone and when she asks him if he'd be alright with it, he looks up. And God, are you surprised?

“Haechan?”

He stares at you for a moment, mouth hanging open before he nods at the waitress and gestures to you to sit down. You're still a bit confused as you shrug off your coat and drape it across the back of your chair. You tell the waitress your order before finally turning to Haechan who smiles politely, albeit a little flustered.

You exhale loudly, “Well, it is a bit awkward outside of work, isn't it?”

Haechan agrees and laughs softly, “How come you're here though?”

“I had a friend recommend it to me. She's been here before a few times and said she really liked it,” You scrunch your nose, “What about you? It doesn't really seem like the place where you'd bump into an F1 driver, eh?”

“Me too. I mean, a friend recommended it to me the first time I visited Suzuka and I've been coming here ever since.”

You hum in response, letting your gaze wander around the tiny shop. Every table is occupied, pairs of diners hunched over steaming bowls, the quiet murmur of conversation blending with the occasional clatter of chopsticks against ceramic. The air is thick with the rich, savory scent of garlic and simmering broth, making your stomach stir in anticipation. Across from the open kitchen, two small windows are propped ajar, letting in a crisp evening breeze that carries the faint sounds of the street outside.

Haechan watches you take it all in. It feels a little weird to not have you talking to him all the time about his schedule or about what he has to say about certain things. It's also weird to see you not on a call, talking to the media or press. He's never observed you, really, and it's only now that he realizes you might be around his age.

His order comes first and you ‘ooh’ at the way steam rises off the soup in the bowl. Haechan turns to take off his jacket. His left hand is out and as he struggles a little to get the right one out, he meets your eyes and you both look away, slightly embarrassed.

“Forgive me for being a spoilsport, but are you really allowed to be eating ramen?” You ask, narrowing your eyes at him.

Haechan is in the middle of taking his third bite as he stoops, holding his chopsticks mid-air, “I'm…not.” He tilts his head before eating.

You raise an eyebrow.

“You know, I think… in order to do your job, which includes protecting my reputation, you should probably not spill about this encounter to Johnny.”

You scoff, shaking your head at him, making him smile before going back to his bowl.

“Did you first come here when you debuted?” You ask after a minute or two of silence.

Haechan nods, “The first time I came, my friend actually brought me here because I was feeling quite depressed after the race,” He chuckles to himself.

“I remember,” you say, “You crashed on the last lap, didn't you? It would've been the first podium of your career if you hadn't.”

You can see the astonishment in his eyes as you continue, “If you ask me, it was an insane thing to do, almost get on the podium while driving an alpha tauri.”

“How do you remember that?”

“Well- I don't exactly remember it, but I had to look you up thoroughly before I started my job, you know?” You joke.

“Hmm,” He plays along, “What else do you know about me, miss PR?”

You lean in a little, like you're about to tell him a secret, “Reports say you have a dog back at home that does not like you. At all.”

Haechan blinks, caught off guard, “Hold on- What?”

You nod solemnly, slumping back into your chair, “Apparently, he ignores you when you come home and only listens to your mum. And uses you for treats. That’s a real betrayal if you ask me. I’ll get the article down as soon as I can. We can’t have you looking like someone who dogs hate,” You think out loud to yourself, suppressing a grin, “No, that would be real bad media attention.”

Haechan groans, setting his chopsticks down, “I can’t believe that made it onto your research.”

“What can I say? I’m quite thorough with my work.”

He shakes his head, but there’s a small smile tugging at his lips. “For the record, he does like me. He just… has a weird way of showing it.”

“Sure,” You shrug, eyes drifting towards the bowl the waitress sets down in front of you. “Ohh, that looks so good.”

The two of you settle into silence as Haechan focuses on finishing his bowl while you only begin digging into yours. It’s different from when he sees you in the paddock. Usually, you’re always behind him or beside him, holding out your phone to record what he says or always note taking and calling the media. You’re the epitome of a professional, so he thinks that right now, you’re different too. Much more relaxed and less uptight about everything. He’s gotten a bit used to seeing you all polished, always in control, moving from one task to another but here, you’re just.. you?

The thought lingers for a second before he pushes it away. He glances at you and almost laughs at the way you’re trying to push your bangs away while holding your chopsticks. You look up and mumble a small ‘what?’.

“Are you always like this?”

“Hey!” You sound a little offended, “I can have a lot of fun outside of work, how would you know?”

“Well, I can imagine.” Haechan laughs, “Off work, professionalism out the door, am I right?”

“Yes, yes, you are. I don’t really care who you are right now,” You sigh before noticing that he’s done with his food, “Aren’t you going to leave?”

Haechan hesitates, “Nah, it’s getting late. I’ll leave with you. Aren’t we headed to the same place anyways?”

You nod slowly, “Don’t you have anywhere else to go? I don’t want to hold you back.”

“I come here every year. After a point there’s not going to be much to see. Unless of course, you have plans to go somewhere.”

“Not that I know of,” You purse your lips, “By the way, I heard you landed here yesterday. How come you’re so early?”

“I flew to Seoul from China and stayed there for a week, but my family are going on vacation this week so I thought, why not come visit one of my friends here, who’d want to see me instead of lazing around at home like the pathetic, uninvited, firstborn son that I am.” He dramatically sighs.

You breathe out a laugh, “You’d probably like to have a home grand prix, wouldn’t you?”

“Obviously,” Haechan rests his elbows on the table, looking out of the window, “If you win, that is. Otherwise it's honestly a shit load of pressure. There’s always going to be the stress of underperforming in front of your home crowd. But the support would be nice. It’s great in Austria too, you know, as Red Bull’s home race but that’s what makes it so important. Doing well in front of a home crowd is like the best feeling in the world.”

You nod thoughtfully, absorbing his words as you continue eating. “I get that,” you say. “The crowd’s energy level is just different, I suppose.”

Haechan leans back in his chair, looking relaxed now that the weight of the conversation has lightened. “Exactly. It’s like they’re all there for you. Even when everything’s falling apart on the track, their support is like fuel. You could be in the middle of a mess and they’ll still cheer for you like you’re winning.”

You smile at the way he says it, not expecting him to be so genuine about it. “Must feel nice to have that.”

He shrugs but there’s a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. “I guess. It’s also a lot to live up to.”

Haechan is in the middle of telling you about his first race in Monaco when the waitress who was serving you walks up to you two.

Sheepishly, she asks, “Excuse me, I hope you guys enjoyed your meal, but we’ve got a bit of a line outside. If you’re done, would you mind giving up your seats? I’m so sorry!”

You and Haechan look at each other in embarrassed surprise, and quickly get up, gathering your coats and belongings. You thank the girl (who meekly apologizes again) and hurry out of the shop.

Outside, in a slightly chilly street, Haechan emerges from behind you and stares at you for a second before bursting into laughter. You, still in your flustered state, take a few moments before joining him.

“I’ve never,” He manages in between, “been asked to get out of a restaurant, that too, so politely!”

“I don’t think she recognized you, actually,” You grin, “If she had, then you’d force me to work a bit overtime. Imagine me having to call up journalists and tell them, ‘No guys, Haechan is a very considerate person, it happens to the best of us. He was incredibly sorry.’”

He shudders before tilting his head in the direction of his hotel. “Let’s go?”

“Mister millionaire, I need to go in the other direction.”

Haechan’s lips form an ‘o’ before he nods, “Well, see you on Thursday then!”

You sigh, “You bet. Please show up early, you have a lot of things to do.”

AUSTRIA, RED BULL RING

Thursday, Media day June 26th

Haechan doesn’t really mind these games. In fact, he prefers them to the ones that he does with Jeno. No offence to him really, but he thinks Jeno’s a bit unfunny. When he says bye to you before entering the filming room, he’s more than happy to see the VCARB guys. Vernon’s humor is quite deadpan, which Haechan can’t say he understands most of the time, but he has a hilarious laugh, like a flock of geese and Haechan laughs more because of that. And Chenle. Haechan cannot get started with this guy. He once trained Chenle when he was still in F2 and in that one week, he’d found another slightly louder version of himself, albeit a little less sarcastic and more innocent.

Haechan is however surprised to see the reserve drivers and the F1 academy drivers. Had you forgotten to mention it, or was he not paying attention? Well, shit. He thinks. He was going to give it his all, get into his competitive spirit but now he’s got to put up his experienced senior face. He greets them before sitting down with Chenle. They wait for the camera team to set up the room before they’re divided into teams.

Chenle and Haechan are put in the same team, but Jeno complains, saying that they’d both be too strong together. So with a dramatic sigh, Haechan lets him go, taking Vernon with him. As the admin sets up the question placards, Haechan looks back at his team and is satisfied. He’s got Vernon, who might(?) be good at games. Sion, their reserve driver is on his team and another driver from the F1 Academy. She looks smart, Haechan thinks as he turns back around.

“Alright, guys,” the challenge host says, pulling the group’s attention back to the screen. “For the first game, we’ll be testing your knowledge of your fellow drivers. We’ve got a series of close-up images of drivers’ eyes. Your task is simple: guess which driver each pair of eyes belongs to. Are you ready?”

The group cheers out in response. The first photo flashes on the screen.

Haechan has his hand near the buzzer already, but he hesitates. The other team hits theirs.

“Jisung?” Chenle’s a bit unsure too.

“1 point to team 2,” The host nods, surprising everyone.

“How did you guess that?” Jeno stares, making the younger one shrug, “I don’t know, the thin eyebrows?”

The next one comes up and Haechan instantly answers, “That’s Mark. Like. For. Sure.”

buzz. “Kim Doyoung.”

The rounds continue with some lighthearted bickering. Jeno's team gets a couple of points here and there, but Haechan’s team remains in the lead. The last challenge turns out to be ‘Guess who said this.’ Haechan’s a bit stumped, he doesn’t know these too well and he doesn’t think the younger drivers do either. Vernon nods confidently, though, so maybe they could win this thing.

“Okay,” The host sighs, “Starting off easy.”

“I’m going to touch Doyoung’s rear wing.”

Sion hits the buzzer before Haechan can, surprising him. “That was Haechan, right?”

Haechan nods, impressed as the host increases their points.

“The engine feels good, much slower than before. Amazing.” It brings a laugh out of everyone before the F1A driver from Jeno’s team answers, “Alonso.”

“Okay, last question guys,” The host announces, “Assuming team 1 can finish this off, that is.”

“Is there even a point for that?”

“I’ve heard this before,” Haechan hears Chenle mumble from the other side. He looks at his team, shrugging to say that he does not know the answer sadly.

Vernon seems to be lost in thought, “This one’s old, it was either Hamilton or Seungcheol. Shit, I can’t remember which one though.” The room is weirdly silent and Vernon seems to notice, lowering his voice, “It was after a disappointing race… probably a p10 or p11 finish. Doesn’t it seem like something Seungcheol would say?”

“You would know,” Haechan encourages, “Go for it.”

Vernon presses the buzzer. The host waits.

“It’s Choi Seungcheol, isn’t it?”

“Are you asking me?” The host jokes.

Vernon shakes his head, “No. It’s Seungcheol.”

“And you are right!” The host smiles, making Haechan’s team erupt into cheers.

After wrapping up the shoot, the entire Red Bull family gathers outside the hospitality to take a group photo. Haechan remembers this weekend has the F2 and F1A races too and wishes the junior drivers good luck before heading back into the hospitality.

Haechan doesn't think you'll be in any of the meeting rooms, nor does he think you've headed back to the hotel. You're usually there next to him after all his schedules end, so he's perplexed to find you absent. He doesn't need to look for you, really, because his media activities for the day are over which means you've got no business with him for today. He should head over to the garage, see what the engineers are doing, poke around there, but instead he finds himself walking into the cafeteria.

Haechan is relieved to see you there, getting back to your seat with a cup of espresso in your hand while the other holds onto your phone as you speak. He's sure you'll end up spilling your coffee and jogs towards you, taking the cup from your hands.

You look at him quizzically before returning to your conversation, “Yes, I understand it's your job but you need to understand, this is my job too. Your headline was just purely misleading. I mean, all he said was that the other driver was being slow and hindering everyone else. Really, there's nothing going on that is as malicious as you make it seem!” You pull the chair harshly before sitting down.

Haechan just stands there with your coffee still in hand, not sure what to do.

“Yes, yes. I'm not asking you to take it down, just edit it a little better. You can't twist words like that, you know? Even if it is your job, Sir.” You grit out before smiling like the journalist can see you, “Yes, we appreciate it. Thank you and have a great day.”

You think about slamming your phone down. But there are others in the cafeteria, so you control yourself. Reminding yourself to unclench your jaw, you look around for your coffee before you see Haechan standing next to you, staring like a kid that's been yelled at.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” You sigh before taking the cup from him, “Aren't you supposed to be back at the motorhome? I'm done, so you can escape from me for at least the remaining half of the day.” You try to joke, but he looks at you like a kicked puppy.

“Hey, I'm sorry for… whatever conversation you just had. I'll try to control what I say, I guess.”

“No it's—” Your frustration that was slithering away creeps back again, “Why would you apologize? You're allowed to say such simple stuff without being used for clout and stupid headlines.”

He stays silent, and you wonder if you came off too harshly. So you try to talk a little more, make him feel a bit more comfortable, and show him that you are not mad. Where did all your professionalism go? We're still at work.

“Honestly, a lot of sports blogs do this. Most of the time it's not an issue. But this guy, this is the fourth time I'm calling him to take it down. He's so stubborn about it and the worst part is his columns have absolutely no ounce of any truth in them.”

Haechan sighs, “Thank you.”

You shrug, eyeing him, “It's just my job. How did your challenge go?”

He perks up at the mention of the games, “My team won,” Haechan grins, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

“Really, Haechan, why are you still here?” You shake your head, but you're smiling a little, so Haechan considers it a win too.

He’s thinking of a valid answer to give you, because in reality he doesn't know either, when he sees Johnny walking in. “I was just waiting for Johnny. We have a training session. What are you going to do, since I'm done for the day?” He abruptly stands up.

You get up along with him, downing the remnants of your espresso, “I have other stuff to do. I need to go over that interview that you gave in the morning before it's sent over for publishing and I need to look up a few journalists that may show up tomorrow or on race day and…” You wonder why you're telling him all this, “I have a lot of things to do, Haechan. Have fun at training, I'll see you tomorrow after the practice sessions.”

—

Friday, post FP2 June 27th

The walk to the media pen is quieter than usual. Haechan’s strides are long and fast, and there’s a stiffness to him that you can’t ignore. His hands are tucked into his pockets and his gaze flicks down to the ground every now and then.

He hasn’t said much since stepping out of the car. You were silent as he listened to the debrief, as he nodded along, as he left without saying much, and you are silent now too as the two of you walk up to a sky sports interviewer.

Jeno is already up first, finishing off his interview. He sounds relaxed and confident.

"Yeah, I think the car felt great today. We found a good rhythm early on, and I’m happy with where we’re at, heading into tomorrow. Obviously, there's still a lot of work to do, but the team’s done an amazing job."

Haechan exhales sharply, looking away as you gesture for him to step forward.

“Remember, it’s just Friday. Just practice.” You murmur to him. He gives you the slightest nod before facing the reporter. The first question comes immediately.

“Haechan, you were second fastest in today’s practice, but it looked like you were struggling a little more than your teammate. What happened?”

He takes a beat to answer, “Yeah, I think- well, obviously, Jeno’s had a great session and it’s looking good for the team this weekend. For me, I think there’s a lot more pace left on the table, hopefully we’ll look at the data and try to put it all together for tomorrow.”

“The McLarens seemed to be struggling with their pace in both practice sessions today. Do you think your situation might be similar?”

Again, a pause. “I wouldn’t say it’s a huge concern. The tyre degradation did seem a little unpredictable today, so I was having to manage more than I would’ve liked to. It’s not ideal, but there’s time to fix it before qualifying and the race itself.”

“Last question, Haechan. Do you think with Jeno topping both sessions today, does this shift the dynamic inside the team at all? Is there an added pressure that you feel, heading into this home grand prix.”

The question lingers in the air for a second longer than it should have. Haechan’s expression doesn’t change much, but you see it — the brief twitch in his eyebrow.

“I mean, from the team perspective, it’s great for us. It’s the home race for the team and both of us are hopefully going to be up front. Obviously, both of us want to be ahead of each other. Today just wasn’t quite there for me, but we’ll see where we are tomorrow.”

He chooses his words carefully, in a way that doesn’t feel like himself. A part of yourself is proud, this was a good response, answering without really answering. But he’s clearly upset.

The interviewer thanks him, wrapping it up before Jaehyun steps up behind him. As Haechan steps back from the mic, you fall into step behind him. You have to go back to the hospitality to gather your things before you can head to your hotel, but it doesn’t feel right to leave Haechan right now. You have a feeling he has something to say.

When you’re out of the media pen, you realize it’s starting to drizzle. That can’t be too good, you suppose. A rainless weekend would be more ideal, more safer. Hopefully this weather won’t continue into tomorrow and the day after. But it’s not just the chilly weather that makes the air heavier.

“Good answers,” You say, trying to look at his downturned face.

He doesn’t reply immediately, glancing at his hands, flexing them before tucking them into his pockets again. When he does reply, Haechan’s voice comes out quieter than you’ve ever heard it.

“If I told you something, would you keep it to yourself? Not give it over or use it to— I don’t know— make me seem more humane or something when people write articles that I don’t seem to care about anything.”

You’re taken aback. It hurts you a little, but what he says is valid. Has someone done that to him before?

“I would,” You nod, “Keep it to myself, I mean.”

He kicks at the pavement, “Jeno was really quick today and it’s bothering me more than Ferrari’s pace.” That much is obvious, but it settles down on his chest in a way that he can’t shake off.

You hum in acknowledgement. This is what’s sitting with him. Not being second itself, but the gap. The fact that for the first time this season, it’s someone in the same car, who is ahead of him. You think of that night in Suzuka. All this at their team’s home race too. Of course he’s bothered.

“Tomorrow’s another day.” You remind him.

“Yes, but-”

“And if tomorrow also isn’t your day, then you have the race itself.”

He exhales, unlocking his phone to study the FP2 times once more before locking it. “How are you getting back to your hotel, by the way?”

“I think the shuttle might have already left, so maybe a taxi. I still have to go back to the hospitality.”

“The rain’s going to get heavier,” He sighs, “You might not be able to catch one.”

“I’ll wait it out,” You shrug, “You’re not heading to your motorhome?”

“I was, but if you’re waiting it out, might as well do the same.”

You glance at him, unsure, “You don’t have to.” But you find yourself thinking that you wouldn’t mind if he does. Guess he does grow on you.

“I know.” His response is simple. He doesn’t meet your eyes and for a moment looks up at the darkening skies above, the wind is picking up, carrying the smell of damp asphalt. Haechan feels nauseous. What if the conditions are the same? You’re already struggling with the pace, Haechan. What if you fuck it up in the one race that matters the most to everyone?

The two of you are a little wet by the time you walk into the hospitality cafeteria. The paddock is quieter now, with most of the day's work being over. A few mechanics remain in the garage, chatting in low voices as they finish up for the day. Inside, the warmth is immediate and you almost sigh out of relief. The hum of the coffee machine and the gentle clattering of dishes as the kitchen staff clean up make the whole place seem too peaceful for a race weekend. You wipe away the drops of water on your team jacket at the entrance before turning to look at Haechan. He doesn’t seem to know what to do when he’s not running from meeting to garage to training to meeting at all times.

“You can go ask a staff for something to eat, if you want. You must be hungry, no?”

He shakes his head, “I think I’ll just have a coffee.”

You shrug, “Help yourself, I need to go up to grab my things.”

Haechan doesn’t move right away, staring at the coffee machine for a long moment as if unsure what to do. Then, with a soft sigh, he pulls his hands from his pockets and walks over to the counter. He’s not really looking at anything—and you’re hit with the realization that he might be trying to not be alone with his thoughts right now.

“I won’t be long,” you add, feeling the need to fill the quiet.

Haechan doesn’t look up, but you see the tension in his shoulders dissipate a little as he nods. “Take your time.”

—

Sunday, Race Day June 29th

If Haechan was irritated by the P3 qualifying last night, he’s beyond upset now. But there’s no time and he really needs to get out of his misery and get his head back in the game before the race begins, which is any moment now. He breathes out heavily, trying to calm himself down as the first red light turns on. It could’ve been worse. It’s only two people that you need to overtake. Use the corner.

At lights out, Haechan’s whole body tenses. His car surges forward, but his reaction time isn’t quicker than Jeno and Doyoung so he remains in third place. His focus sharpens as he begins to climb the gears. He’s pushing for the next position and turn 1 is his easiest chance. Even if the gap between Doyoung and him widens after the turn, he can close it on the straight.

Haechan is usually quite aware of his surroundings. Usually while going into turns his eyes are always flitting between his two mirrors. But today, he looks ahead. He knows Jaehyun is there, tucked right behind him, but what he doesn’t expect is for Jaehyun to turn so late.

The hit comes hard. A sudden, violent shove to the rear end of his car, that sends a shock through his entire body.

Haechan’s heart races as his hands instinctively grip the wheel tighter, trying to regain control, but the car is sliding, spinning off track. His vision blurs.

As Haechan and Jaehyun’s car spin, the former going off the track, the Red Bull garage erupts in shock. Jaehyun’s Ferrari straightens out and rejoins the race, but Haechan remains there. It feels like forever to you as you ball up your fists. Come on, move!

The engineers are already analyzing the damage, but you know what’s coming next—the media frenzy. Your mind kicks into overdrive, fingers hovering over your notes. If he’s out of the race, you need to prep statements. If he’s still in it, you need to track every lap.

A voice crackles through the team radio.

“Haechan, are you alright?”

A beat. Then, a burst of static, an exhale.

“I’m fine.”

Haechan swerves his car into the right direction and re-enters the track. You release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. The mechanics shout out their encouragement.

He’s still in it, at least. You know what’s next for you— a new narrative to prepare.

As for Haechan, he has one hell of a comeback to make.

“What position am I in?” Haechan asks, even though he knows the answer. He sees the Williams in front of him but he needs to hear it.

“P20. There’s no damage to the car. Please push.”

P20. Dead last.

The words make his jaw clench. Haechan flicks his engine mode and slams his foot on the throttle. Ahead, the Williams is too slow, too cautious. He’s past it before the lap is even done.

P19.

Next, the Haas. He catches it on the straight, ducks behind into its slipstream and overtakes it at the next turn.

P18.

In sector 2, he reaches the VCARBs, caught in their own battle. Haechan takes advantage of their hesitation into turn 3 and dives down the inside. It’s risky and close but he does it, two cars in one move.

P16.

Every move is by instinct now. An Alpine, another Sauber and Haas. One by one he picks them off.

He outbrakes the second Williams into turn 3.

P12.

You look up from your laptop, hastily recording all his overtakes. He’s got the fastest lap now, and it’s his fourth time doing it. You’re worried, definitely, but awe masks it momentarily as you watch Haechan set purple sectors everywhere. Within five laps he’s made it to 12th place. It’s not in the points, yes. But he’s capable and you know it. It’s only a matter of time before he nears the top and time— he has a lot of it.

P10 comes a little easily too. Na Jaemin, seemingly struggling with his engine in the Aston gives Haechan the way and Park Jisung in the first McLaren, who is way off his game this season— seeing how he’s outside of the points— is not the hardest person to overtake.

A much needed pit stop by lap 47 halts his progress and leaves Haechan stuck in at P10. Ahead of him, the second Alpine pits handing him the P9. On the straight, he comes into DRS range and overtakes Lee Chan’s Aston Martin.

By lap 58, Haechan is up into P7. This is where it starts to get hard.

The gap ahead to Seungcheol in P6 is a little over 4 seconds. It’s nothing impossible, but Haechan can feel the pressure build up now. There’s been a rhythm to his driving up until now. He’s been pushing and edging and taking advantage of every silly mistake someone makes. But Seungcheol, even in his current form, is no slouch and neither is his car. The Ferrari holds its place through the corners and the last thing Haechan wants is to waste time.

He closes in quickly, making it a matter of when and not if he can overtake Seungcheol. When they come into the straight at the beginning of lap 59, Haechan is right behind the Ferrari, DRS open and ready to pounce. He pulls out and presses the throttle hard, determined to make it out in front before the first turn. Seungcheol, surprisingly, doesn't put up much of a fight.

“Haechan, that is P6. Incredible work, mate. Car ahead is Jaehyun.”

You’re back in the hospitality by now. Haechan’s name has been climbing up the list consistently and his speed is incredible. But you can’t afford to celebrate yet. It’s a home race and one car is still not on the podium. Red Bull expects more than just a decent result. They want to win this and you know the sponsors are watching every move. Your phone buzzes—a quick reminder that the press conference is scheduled in thirty five minutes. Regardless of how the race turns out, he needs to be ready to answer questions.

Coming into lap 71, the last lap, Haechan is beyond frustrated. Jaehyun has been holding steady for the entire race, but so has he. It’s been a long fight, and he is not giving it up to settle behind the person who fucked it up for him, really.

The gap between them is small and with only a few corners left, Haechan watches Jaehyun’s line like a hawk. The Ferrari takes a defensive stance, but on turn 9, Jaehyun takes a slightly wider exit than normal, and it’s the crack Haechan’s been waiting for. He dives down the inside, braking late but with precision, getting alongside Jaehyun through the turn. Jaehyun can’t fight back.

Haechan forces him wide into the last turn.

P5.

—

Post Race, Driver’s room.

You walk down the hallway towards Haechan’s room. The paddock buzzes with the press and most of the mechanics and engineers are out celebrating Jeno’s win in front of the garage. You and Haechan are going to be late for the media if he hasn’t freshened up by now.

“Haechan, I’m coming in,” You inform, knocking twice. He doesn’t answer.

The door is open anyways, so you push it, tucking your phone into your pocket before you truly realize the sight in front of you.

Haechan’s freshened up, alright. He’s showered and is in his normal clothes, towel hanging from his neck as he looks out of the window.

“Are you,” you pause, “coming to the media pen like this?”

You regret even asking, because you think you know his answer, and God, no. No no no, don’t say it. Please come to the pen.

“I’m not going today, sorry Miss PR.” Haechan shrugs, his voice low, flat and lacking the charm he usually has.

Your stomach drops, “Haechan… Haechan, you know you have to. It's part of the job.”

He doesn’t turn to look at you, doesn’t speak. His clothes look comfortable but you can see his tensed arms and spine despite them. He wears his disappointment like a heavy cloak, heaving him down.

"Look, I get it. I know you're upset," you say, your voice softer now, "but this is about more than just you. It's about the team, the sponsors, everything. I need you to come with me. We’ll get through it, and then you can walk away. I promise."

When he doesn’t respond immediately, you’re taken over by the insane urge to slap yourself. Not what we wanted to say!

You enter the room fully, the door clicking softly behind you.

“If it gets you into trouble, I’ll talk to them later. I can’t do this right now.” Haechan’s voice wavers slightly.

You hesitate, but only for a moment.

"Why are you always trying to hold it together?" you ask, crossing the room towards him. "You don’t have to be perfect all the time, Haechan. You don’t have to just swallow it down and keep going like nothing’s wrong."

He scoffs, “That’s very ironic of you to say. You’re literally my PR manager. Isn’t it your job to make me look like the perfect person all the time?” He bites back, harsher than you expect.

You stop in your tracks, taken aback. He’s never lashed out at you like that before and all you can do is just stand there and let his words hang in the air between you two.

“Okay,” You slump back, walking over to the couch and sitting down. “Fine. I’ll tell them you’re not coming.”

Haechan finally looks at you, a little surprised. You think he was expecting you to fight back more. You expected yourself to fight back more.

“But Haechan, my job isn’t to make you look perfect. It’s to help you handle all the shit that comes with your job without you having to worry too much about people attacking you for reasons that don’t even matter most of the time.”

He seems to realize the weight of your words as he comes to sit beside you.

“Today did not go the way you wanted it to, and I may never understand what is on your mind or what you go through every time.” You exhale, “But if you want me to listen, I will.”

Haechan sits quietly beside you, his fingers drumming lightly on his knee, eyes focused on the floor. The faint sound of the paddock celebrations filters through the walls, but it feels distant and irrelevant.

After what feels like an eternity, Haechan speaks. "I just... I don’t know anymore," he admits, his gaze drifting toward the window. "It feels like I’m fighting so damn hard, and for what? A P5? I was supposed to do better. I feel like I’ve let everyone down... And Jaehyun’s starting to catch up with me in the driver standings. He’s close, you know? Really close. And now my teammate’s done better than me at our home race and it wouldn’t have been too much of a problem if I was on that damn podium too.”

“I don’t think you’ve let anybody down. Today’s race doesn’t discount everything else that you have won for the team this season. It may be hard for you to believe right now, but trust me. What matters is that you move on from this. Everyone has their lows. It’s just one race, Haechan.”

“But it’s… it’s the team’s home race.” He exhales.

“Fuck the home race, then.” You shake your head, “Everyone believes in you, Haechan. Your mechanics, your engineers, Johnny, me. This is just one race out of 24. You can do this.”

Haechan looks at you then, his expression still clouded with frustration but you can tell your words got through.

"Thanks," he murmurs, and it’s almost a whisper, but you catch it.

You nod, offering a small smile. It’s not out of relief or pity, but understanding.

“I’ll take care of the media stuff,” you say, rising to your feet. “I’ll smooth things over. You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

Haechan doesn’t respond right away, but as you reach the door, you hear him speak again, quieter this time.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you.”

You tilt your head slightly, watching him. “You think that’s the worst I’ve dealt with?”

Haechan lets out a small, tired laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Probably not.”

You smile, finally turning to leave. “Didn’t think so.”

“I mean it though. I shouldn’t have proj—”

You raise a finger making him stop, “It’s okay, I know. Get some rest, Haechan.”

UNITED KINGDOM, SILVERSTONE CIRCUIT

Tuesday July 2nd

Lee Haechan (RB) : Hey… Are you in the UK rn? This may be wayyy out of line but Johnny kind of dared me to go to this baking workshop thing like LONG ago and um he agreed to come with me. But he’s got some sort of emergency, so he’s in the states rn and um so he can’t make it… So I was wondering if you wanted to LOL! [18:26]

You: well, it would be a waste of money if you didn’t go, wouldn’t it? [20:25]

Lee Haechan (RB) : Whew almost thought you wouldn’t reply Does that mean you’ll come? [20:26]

—

Wednesday

“Hey, you’re right on time.” Haechan greets as you walk over to the pergola he’s under, “The instructor just left to get the ingredients, but this place is huge so she might take like 10 to come back.”

“Huge it is,” You agree, putting your purse down and sitting beside him.

The pergola you two sit under is just one of the many you saw on your way here. Tucked into its own corner, its beams entwined with vines and fairy lights that haven’t flickered on yet. The garden (it’s bigger, but you don’t know the appropriate term for it) seems to be divided by tall, clean-trimmed hedges, giving the entire place a maze-like look. Surprisingly, it’s a sunny day and this is the perfect place to be out. A gentle breeze ruffles the leaves overhead.

From behind the hedge to your right, bursts of laughter and chatter spill over, from a larger group, you assume. You hear the clinking of utensils against mixing bowls and turn to Haechan.

He’s already looking at you, leant back, arms stretched over the bench’s backrest. For a moment, he holds your gaze before looking away, eyes sweeping over the surroundings. “It’s nice, isn’t it?”

You hum, “Makes me wonder why Johnny would dare you to come here. Do you know what we’re going to be making?”

Haechan eyes you a little sheepishly, “Well, to be honest, you were a little bit late and I had to choose for us.”

You roll your eyes, “Okay, but this was like almost an hour away.”

“I did offer to pick you up,” He mumbles.

“Yeah,” You nod, “But you’re probably staying at the headquarters which is literally on the other side of the city. Didn’t want to make you drive too much.”

“You’re kind of… too nice to me.” Haechan grins, getting up as the instructor comes back, “It’s great! My friends usually don’t pass up on a chance to make me suffer.”

You laugh, shaking your head, “Well aren’t you glad I’m here then.”

“Oh,” He starts, but you interject him.

“Thank you for coming, I know. You’ve said it about four times already.”

“Well, I feel a little bad.”

“Don’t be, I’m sure I’ll have fun too. I’ll let you know, I might be nice to you now but I’m a little mean when it comes to tasting.” You grin.

The instructor sets the menu in front of you and your grin only widens. “I love strawberries, apple pie and churros. You didn’t make bad choices after all.”

Haechan laughs softly before handing you your apron, “Thank god.”

The instructor gives you two the basic rundown and gives you a small pager to page her over if required before leaving you two to it. As she starts walking away, Haechan starts flipping through the cookbook, opening up to the first recipe.

“I think we should make the churros in the end. Should we start with the pie first? It’ll take time to bake.”

You nod, wrapping the apron’s waistband around you, “Have you ever made apple filling before?”

“No, but I’m good at like bread and pasta and stuff so I think I’ll be fine with the dough? Unless you want to-”

“We make a great team, because I’m bad at that stuff,” You throw a thumbs up at him, moving over to the other side of the table where the apple basket is.

Haechan laughs as he picks out all the ingredients he needs, “Should we make a little extra of everything so that we can take some home?”

You pause, “Sure, but do you think the two of us would be able to down an entire pie?”

He shrugs, “If we don’t then it’s just more to take home. We could make an extra one and like half it? The tins aren’t too big. Hey, it says you need 4-5 apples for one pie so maybe take like 10?”

You thank him and start sectioning and measuring your spices before you get to the apple skinning when Haechan walks over to your side. You hum, wondering if he has any questions.

“You’d take way too much time to skin 10 apples on your own. The dough won’t take me too long.” Haechan quips, reaching in front of you for the peeler.

Halfway through peeling the apples, a thought passes through your mind when Haechan brings up Johnny. In shock, you drop your peeler onto the table before turning to look at him.

“Haechan,” You gasp, “Are you allowed to eat all this?”

Before he can answer, you’re already pacing up and down, the back of your wrist pressing against your forehead. If you’d remembered earlier, you could’ve convinced him to not go. Holy shit, you pause. You could be the reason Haechan’s weight is off this weekend.

Haechan lets you worry for a moment before piping up, “It’s only Wednesday. Johnny knows and he’ll be back before tomorrow evening so that we can have a workout session that’s a little more intense.” He tosses the cut apples into the pot.

“Still, should we cut down on something?” You stress, pushing him over to his dough making station.

“Nooo,” Haechan drags out, “It’s alright.”

“What if you don’t fit into your race suit?” You challenge as you slowly walk back to your pot that you’ve put all your apple slices in. The spices are already in there and all you have to do is turn the flame on.

Haechan sighs as he flicks the remnants of flour on his fingers at you, making you flinch, “Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours, come on.”

You still for a second, hoping the heat you feel creeping up your neck isn’t as obvious as it feels. Trying to play it off, you roll your eyes, “Whatever you say, I guess.”

Haechan doesn’t look up from his bowl but you can tell his smile widens. You shake your head, turning back to your apples that are beginning to cook slowly.

—

The pies rise steadily in the oven, the smell of cinnamon and apples clouding the air. You’re not sure if it’s because of the light inside. Leaning forward on your knees, you stare into the oven. The actual baking process is the worst according to you, but maybe you’re just a little impatient. You hear Haechan cluttering around with utensils before he stands next to you, shoulder brushing yours as he copies you.

“You know, I think we did a pretty good job. I tasted the cookie dough and it’s great too.” Haechan muses beside you, wiping his hands on a towel, “Well, I did. You just cut and measured stuff.”

You gasp, standing up straight to look at him, “Excuse me? Who prepared the filling?”

“What are you going to do with just filling? You need dough and honestly I think you’d be really bad at that.” Haechan scoffs but you see the playfulness in his eyes.

“You can’t have a pie without filling, and I made the strawberry compote too, come on!”

“You could!” Haechan defends, “It would just be a really thin, weird shaped cookie.”

You don’t know how to answer that and so you sigh in defeat. He’s moved on to scooping the strawberry shortcake cookie dough into the pan and you force your eyes to drift from the way his bangs fall into his eyes. It’s not like you’ve never noticed before, but there’s something about seeing Haechan at ease, lips pressed together in focus, brows knitted as he carefully shapes each cookie. It’s different from when he’s in his element on track. That determination and focus that he has are so different from now. Haechan’s sleeves are rolled up just enough to show his forearms and you have to mentally slap yourself from thinking about how they flexed while he kneaded the dough.

You’ve always known it, but he’s quite good looking, if you admit. The thought makes your heart stutter, and you blink rapidly, shaking yourself out of it. You’re here to bake, not… whatever this is.

“By the way,” You clear your throat, “did we use all the strawberries? I wanted to taste one.”

Haechan pauses, “Yep.” He pops the ‘p’. You hear the timer ring for the pies. “Guess you were too busy.”

“Seriously?” You mutter, a little dejected, “It’s fine. I’ll get the pies.”

“Oh, hey, take the mittens. Wait, I’ll bring them.” You hear Haechan call out as you open the oven handle. He appears by your side, holding out your mittens.

“Here,” He says, voice closer than you expect. You turn to thank him, and just as the words are about to leave your mouth, he swiftly plops something past your lips.

Your eyes widen in shock, taste buds suddenly flooded with flavour— sweet, a little tart and unmistakably strawberry.

Haechan grins, eyes swimming with amusement as you process what just happened. “Found it,” he says with a casualness that makes you want to throw the mittens at him.

You finish chewing, the initial surprise fading into a mix of exasperation and something else that makes your chest feel strangely tight. “You—”

“I knew you wanted one,” He shrugs, a self satisfied smirk plastered on his lips.

You narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms. “You’re just so…”

“Not my fault you’re easy to surprise.”

You huff, shaking your head as you finally grab the mittens. “You’re lucky these pies smell too good for me to be mad at you right now.”

His laughter follows you as you open the oven, but you don’t miss the way his eyes linger on you for a moment longer. And you definitely don’t miss the way your heart stumbles again, just a little, before you shake it off and focus on not dropping the pies.

—

Saturday, Qualifying July 3rd

“How’s the car feeling?” Johnny asks as he sets down Haechan’s plate in front of him.

“It’s fine,” Haechan grimaces at his food, making Johnny sigh, “Better than last week. So much better. The team made some updates.”

“Don’t make that face.” Johnny rolls his eyes, “I let you off for eating all those damn sweets. You reap what you sow.”

He expects Haechan to bite back, but all he gets in return is an absent minded hum. He looks up from his phone to see Haechan looking around the cafeteria and sighs inwardly.

“Who are you looking for?” Johnny questions, making Haechan snap his head back to him before poking at the quinoa on his plate.

“No one,” Haechan mumbles.

Johnny raises an eyebrow but doesn’t press him and goes back to his phone. The cafeteria buzzes with the usual lunchtime chatter. The mechanics and engineers too, seem to have come up for their lunch break before qualifying. Johnny looks up at Haechan for a second when he seems to realize that the driver usually eats lunch in his room, in order to focus and calm his mind.

Before he can question it, Haechan pipes up, “How’s your sister and her baby, by the way?”

“She’s fine. And my nephew? Oh god, he is so cute. Wait let me show you a photo,” Johnny gushes as he scrolls through his photos, “Thanks for letting me go, actually. I mean, I did you a favour too. Didn’t you take your PR girl with you?” He looks up to see Haechan distracted, eyes flicking around the room again.

“Ah,” Johnny sighs, shaking his head, “So that’s what’s on your mind?”

Haechan glances at him before stuffing a forkful of grilled chicken in his mouth, “What? Show me the photos.”

Johnny slides his phone over, still staring at him. “It makes sense really,” He says to himself, “You took her out when I cancelled. You don’t want to eat in your room anymore, you keep looking around for her.”

Haechan freezes, his fork already halfway to his mouth. He sets it down, trying to play the cool game, but Johnny knows Haechan and frankly with the way he’s scratching his neck right now while fervently scrolling through his photos, he already has his answer.

“Your nephew’s really cute.” Haechan says, a little too loudly, “I’d love to meet him one day.”

Johnny leans back in his chair, arms crossed and grins a little wider than what Haechan would’ve liked to see. “Anyways, where is she? Seems like you two have gotten close.”

“Well, she’s around me a lot and it’s been like what—five months—already. Of course we’d be friends,” Haechan rolls his eyes. He meant for it to come out very coolly, but he ends up sounding a bit defensive. “And I don’t know where she is. I don’t need to see her until after quali.”

“Mhm,” Johnny teases, “You don’t need to see her, but you want to. I get it.”

“Oh, shut up,” Haechan hisses, getting up from his seat, “You’re distracting me. I’m going to go back to my room. Throw out my plate for me, will you?”

“Are you sure I’m what’s distracting you?” Johnny calls out behind him, earning a few looks. He laughs while looking around, “Oh it’s nothing, he’s just a little worried about qualifying.”

—

Post qualifying

“Haechan, congratulations on pole position,” The reporter chirps, “If you could step up to the mic, please.”

“Thank you,” Haechan gives a small smile, waiting for the questions.

“The Red Bulls seemed very strong today and yesterday, you know, over the practice sessions and qualifying. Jeno qualified with a P3. Anything new about the car? Has anything changed since Austria?”

“Yeah, well, the team had already been working hard on bringing an update to the car so it’s been feeling good this weekend. Hopefully we can use it to give the team a 1-2 finish again.”

“You’ve been on the podium multiple times here in Silverstone, but you’ve never won before. What’s different this time and what do you think about your chances for tomorrow?”

“Silverstone has been slightly challenging for me in the past, but every year is different, right? The team has made some great progress with the car. I think personally, I feel more in tune than I did last weekend. This is our best shot yet. Of course it’ll be a tough battle, but I think we’ll be able to make the most out of it tomorrow.” Haechan nods, “Also, they do predict a little rain here, every year. Always makes it more exciting.”

The reporter laughs along with him, “Of course. Now my last question. You weren’t here last weekend, so I didn’t get to ask you.”

You can see Haechan stiffening up. You did talk to him about the possibility of reporters or journalists asking about Austria. Hopefully he remembers.

“In Austria, you had that incident with Jaehyun on lap one. With the title fight heating up between you two, how do you feel about something like that happening at such a critical point in the season? Does it change the way you approach racing with him, or was it just a racing incident?”

No matter how Haechan answers this, you know it’s going to stir up drama. It’s about time anyways, with the championship fight set up between the drivers and the teams. You lightly tug Haechan’s hand, hoping it’s out of frame or even just subtle enough. He notices.

“It was unfortunate. I had a lot to unpack after that race,” Haechan begins, “It was frustrating, especially since we both know how much is at stake. I mean, it’s tough out here… I think we’ve both had a fair share of things not going our way. But yeah, it’s a championship fight and I’m not here to back down. Keeping it clean is ideal of course, but I don’t mind some hard racing. It is a part of the game after all. We’ll see how the rest of the season plays out.”

“You did well,” You mutter to him as the two of you leave the media pen after a few more interviews.

“Oh thanks, I learnt from the best.” Haechan chuckles. You smile.

“No, I mean. Even in quali and everything.” You look up at him.

His lips are stretched in an easy smile and he looks more collected and composed today. You haven’t seen this type of confidence ooze off him in a while, so today, it makes you glad.

“I feel good too, honestly.” Haechan admits, “I think I got too into my head last time and it just never works out like that. I’ve done this so many times and just because there’s a championship win looming over my head does not mean I crumble under the pressure of it all.” He dramatically sighs.

“Well,” You quip, “Don’t be too confident. After all that you’ve said today, you’d make it really hard for you and me to answer if you didn’t win tomorrow.”

Haechan stops in his tracks, turning to you, “Are you telling me to win?”

“Would I tell you to lose?” You question, squinting at him.

“No, but are you telling me to win for you? So that you don’t have to deal with those articles?” He has a smirk on his face that one half of you, the more sane half wants to punch off.

“I didn’t say that. But if you happened to win, everyone would be pleased.” You shrug nonchalantly.

Haechan laughs, “Everyone includes you.”

“It does.” You sigh before fastening your pace and walking ahead of him. You don’t understand why he’s doing this, but it sucks. It sucks and you don’t think it's professional and- Shit your face is probably red right now.

“Hey! Hey, I’ll win it.” Haechan grins as he catches up to you, “For the team, and the championship, of course.”

You nod sternly, “Yes, exactly.”

“And,” He begins as you reach the entrance to where the motorhomes are parked, “For you. Thanks for walking me back!” He runs off before you can pretend to get mad at him. You roll your eyes, fanning your face as you walk away.

Around the same time, the next day, you walk away from the celebrations for a second, feeling your phone ping in your pocket. Perfect timing, really, because you’d rather not get champagne all over you.

Someone’s sent you an article. You click on the link.

Haechan dominates Silverstone for maiden win, Vows: ‘I’m not here to back down’. Ferrari falls short again as title hopes begin to falter.

You shake your head, turning towards the crowd formed in the centre of the garage as they attempt to douse the man of the hour in champagne. You watch as Haechan shrieks, trying to dodge his head mechanic who has another, completely filled bottle in his hands. His overalls are already soaked, and his hair sticks to his forehead as a result of Jeno pouring champagne over his head on the podium.

For a second, Haechan’s eyes search around until they land on you. When they do, his eyes widen ever so slightly and he beams. Teeth out, cheeks full and eyes almost closing.

You can’t help but smile back. Your heart skips a beat, multiple beats, you think. You hope no one notices the way your cheeks are burning up right now. You hope he doesn’t notice it. Looking away, you tuck your phone back in. You need to head back up, gather your things and head back home. You’d promised your family you’d visit and conveniently you have almost a week and a half off before you travel again.

To your (unknown) dismay, Haechan does notice.

ITALY, AUTODROMO NAZIONALE MONZA

Saturday, Qualifying September 6th

Rumours around the paddock don’t start baselessly, so when you overhear news from Jaehyun’s PR manager, a senior of yours from college, it shocks you. Choi Seungcheol, Il Prescelto, the chosen one, Ferrari’s lion… talks of leaving?

Haechan is even more astonished when you accidentally let it slip in front of him.

“That’s…” He tilts his chin, thinking hard, “That’s not possible, is it? I mean, he’s been with them for so long. He’s got them those four drivers championships. There’s no way he’d leave.”

“I don’t know Haechan,” You sigh, dragging a hand across your face, “I wasn’t even supposed to tell you this. Listen, this is the last-”

“Last thing I need to worry about, I know.” He shakes his head as he slips on his racing shoes.

The two of you are in his dressing room, about fifteen minutes before qualifying starts. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to be here, but you find yourself pacing nervously while he adjusts his gear.

“I don’t even know why I’m saying this,” You bite your lip, trying to find the right words, “It’s just- She told me that there’s been a lot going on in their team, between the drivers, something, I don’t know.”

Haechan nods as he stands up and walks over to you, moving you out of the way by your waist to grab his helmet. Your brain short circuits for a moment before you wrangle it back into control. You’re trying to tell him something. Stop it. You can’t help the way your stomach somersaults at the smell of his cologne.

“Haechan,” Your voice is stern and it makes him stop, hand on his helmet on the shelf. It’s not an ideal position, at all. You can imagine what it would look like if someone walked into the room right now, one hand on the shelf, the other unconsciously on your waist. Haechan is too close to you. You clear your throat, swallowing as he moves away muttering an apology. There’s an air of disappointment and confusion surrounding you two and you know it. There are things unsaid and undone, but now is not the time.

“I think you’ve noticed already from the practice sessions but they’re fighting within themselves.” You sigh, hoping the shakiness in your voice isn’t too obvious.

“Yeah, the team told me in the briefing session. I thought it was just some silly teammate banter, though.”

“Hopefully it is. But just stay safe out there, okay?”

Haechan's heart warms at the concern in your voice.

“Always, I know. It's alright.”

“I'll see you after quali then. All the best,” You muster a small smile. You don't think he could go faster than your heart is beating right now, to be fair, but you hope he does.

Haechan hasn't told you this yet, but as he gets into his car in the garage, he thinks you already know his intentions. He needs to out qualify both the Ferraris today. Especially Jaehyun. Haechan is not one to leave favours unpaid and the only way he can return Jaehyun’s is by ruining his home race too. The fabled Italian grand prix, with the thousands of tifosi here. He’s not going to mess up Jaehyun’s race like the latter did in Austria, no. He’s better than that and besides, he needs a clean race, if not for himself, if not for the team, then for you. No, Haechan’s going to make sure he ruins it by winning.

His engineer gives him the green light to fire up the engine and leave the garage. As he swerves out into the pitlane, he almost scoffs into his radio. In front of him both the Ferraris leave their garage, blazing red and engines roaring.

If there is an issue between the two of them—like you said there might be— then as long as they don’t crash into him, maybe it’ll work out in his favour after all.

His engineer's voice crackles through the radio, “Haechan, all clear ahead. There’s not much traffic at the moment so let’s make this lap count.”

“Copy,” Haechan replies.

He accelerates into the first chicane, overtaking the Ferraris who still seem to be warming up. He’s always found the breaking zone at turn one a little tricky, but he powers through it into the second part of the chicane.

Exiting sector 1 into turn 4, Haechan hears on his radio, “That’s a purple sector 1. Keep going.”

The Red Bull flies through the straight in sector two, his speedometer reading a speed of 310 km/hr as the Parabolica, the temple of speed, looms ahead. It’s the final corner before the stretch to the finish line, the trickiest of them all.

His rear wheels fight for grip as he brakes late into the corner, dropping down a gear. Haechan keeps his foot steady, accelerating just as the car begins to straighten. The Parabolica is deceptive—too early on the throttle, and the back end kicks out. Too late, and he loses time.

“Purple sector 2.” His engineer informs him.

Haechan exhales as he approaches the finish line, keeping the car steady. The final moments of the lap feel like they take forever, but he thinks he’s hit all the marks. He crosses the line and steps off the throttle, slowing down due to an increase in the number of cars at the entrance.

“So?” He asks into the radio.

“Haechan, that is provisional pole for you. Well done mate, all purple sectors.”

Haechan grins, “Alright, heading back to the pits.”

He stays in until the end of Q3. It’s slightly surprising that no one has out-qualified him yet, but who is he to complain? Haechan sits on one of the seats at the pitwall, watching the others qualify. He doesn’t exactly feel threatened by any of their lap times but with 10 minutes remaining, Seungcheol sets a lap time that is only a second off of his. He gets back to the garage after seeing that, zipping his overalls and putting his helmet and balaclava back on, Haechan settles into his seat. The mechanics are on standby but Seungcheol comes back into the pits and the session ends with no one outdoing him. There’s a sense of confidence in Haechan as he climbs out of his seat again, taking off his helmet to high five some of his mechanics.

Pole in Monza. He’s ahead of both the Ferraris in their home ground. It’s a huge advantage for both championships. All he needs to do now is convert that pole into a win.

—

Sunday, Race Day September 7th

The best thing about home races, Haechan muses, is the home crowd.

But they're not cheering for him, no. It's more of an encouragement for Seungcheol to go quicker. Outrun the bull that's coming for you. But Seungcheol is on the straight with old tires and Haechan is right on his tail with fresh hards on.

The overtaking opportunity shows itself easily. There's not much one can do on a straight with a car that has DRS enabled behind him.

Haechan can hear the disappointment in the crowd as he overtakes the Ferrari, the groans loud enough to penetrate through his helmet and the engine’s loud rumbling. He smirks, taking the lead of the race again. There’s nothing like disappointing the Tifosi.

Exiting the first chicane, in his mirrors, he sees both Ferrari’s close to each other. Almost too close. They’re fighting, red against red, sparks flying as they push their cars to the limit. There’s no teamwork in sight, no sense of strategy—only two drivers who refuse to yield.

Haechan knows that kind of desperation. The kind that you need when you’re trying to prove yourself to someone. It just seems like the wrong moment for this, though, with the constructors easily on the line.

Haechan’s engineer cuts through on the radio, “Ferraris fighting for P2 behind you. Keep your head down and focus.”

“Copy.” He replies, eyes flicking back his mirrors once again. Both of them are driving recklessly and he does not want to be around to get stuck in debris if they do end up crashing into each other.

In the garage, you watch Jaehyun lock up on screen as he dives into a turn, lunging for the overtake. Seungcheol defends hard, leaving barely any room. They almost touch again but come out the other side unscathed. The shot widens and you see Haechan already a good few seconds ahead of them. Relief courses through you as he keeps his pace steady, pulling away from the chaos behind him.

At the exit to turn 2, Jaehyun dives outside but Seungcheol moves to defend a split second too late. Jaehyun’s rear wheel hits the curb hard and sends his car into the air. You feel time slow down before gravity overtakes again and Jaehyun’s Ferrari crashes down on top of his teammate. Jaehyun’s rear wheel runs up against the cockpit of Seungcheol’s car as they drive off track and the commentary box goes wild, their voices frantic.

“Oh my word! Massive crash between the Ferraris! Are both the Scuderia cars OUT of their home race?” Even with earplugs on, you can hear the roar of the fans in the grandstands as the shock settles in.

The slow-motion replay shows Jaehyun’s car hanging in the air for a split second before slamming down on Seungcheol’s halo.

“Look at that! The halo is doing its job there, saving Seungcheol. But what a terrifying impact!”

The replay shifts to the aftermath—the two Ferraris tangled together, sliding helplessly into the gravel, debris scattered across the track.

“And it’s confirmed,” The commentator begins, “Both Ferraris are out of the race at Monza! Can you believe it? In front of the thousands of Tifosi here, it has been a nightmare of a weekend for Ferrari.”

“Is everyone alright?” Haechan asks his engineer. He’s seen the impact of the accident behind him. It couldn’t have been great.

“Uh yes, both drivers are safe. Red flag, Haechan. Please slow down and come back to the pits. They’ve ordered a restart.”

Once he's back in the garage, the tension is thick. The pit crew is busy, checking the car over one last time. Haechan leans back against the wall, the weight of what just happened pressing down on him. Two Ferraris out in a spectacular crash—he can't help but feel a mix of relief and unease. They were close to each other. It could've been him, too, if things had gone differently.

But his engineer walks up, data flashing on the screen in front of him and it grounds Haechan. The race isn’t over yet and he cannot afford to lose focus. With the restart, although he’ll still have the advantage, it could be an opportunity for anybody else. Especially Jeno, who’s now been promoted to P2 after both the Ferrari’s crash out.

“There’s no need for you and Jeno to battle it out,” He hears his strategist say. “Since Ferrari is out, it won’t affect your driver’s standing much, so focus on the constructors. You should try to win, of course, but keep it clean, please.”

Haechan nods. The restart is coming soon. He needs to get back into the car.

As he walks back to the desk near his car to pick up his helmet, he sees your figure, bent over your laptop, typing away. You're scanning through the data, probably double-checking something, or maybe working on a report for the team. He notices the way your brow furrows in concentration, how you’re so focused on your work. It's a stark contrast to the chaos of the garage around you, but it’s also strangely calming.

The weight of his helmet pulls him back into the present. He’s got a job to finish.

Just as he climbs back into his seat, he looks at you again, almost instinctively with no thought behind it. But for a brief moment you catch his gaze and give him a small nod, encouragement maybe. You can’t see his face, but he throws a small smile anyways. He’s alright and he’s safe, just like he promised.

Back on track, the restart is smooth. Haechan reacts quickly, gets off the start line nicely and has nothing but clean air ahead. There’s nothing that could go wrong now, and with that sentiment, he completes the last three laps remaining.

As he crosses the finish line, Jeno’s red bull right behind him, the silence from the crowd is deafening. Their disappointment is palpable, but Haechan frankly does not care. There is nothing like hearing a crowd go silent at their home ground and he’s proud to be the reason for it.

When he makes his way onto the podium a few minutes later, the boos echo in his ear. It’s nothing new, after all, this is what a non-Ferrari winner is subjected to here. It makes him smile a little. Haechan knows the score. They’re mad, but Red Bull and him are winning. So he waves at the crowd, keeping his composure. He’s not the favourite, but well, sucks for them.

—

Post Race

When Haechan steps out of the shower, the cool air of the room hits him, and he reaches for a towel, drying his face and neck before rubbing it over his hair. His damp curls fall in waves, still slightly messy from the helmet. There’s a lingering exhaustion in his bones, but he knows you’ll be here any second now to take him to the drivers press conference and he can’t be late to that.

He slips on the team’s jersey just as you knock on the door. “It’s open.” He answers loudly.

“Hey winner,” you say, stepping in just a little. “We’re running out of time. Are you ready?”

“Almost,” Haechan mumbles as he rubs his hair with his towel, “My hair just won't dry and I can't find another towel.”

You bite your lip as you look around. Ideally, there should be a hair dryer here but you can't see one in plain sight. “If you don't have a hair dryer then do you want me to go ask Jeno if he has one?”

“No, wait. I think I remember seeing one in the closet. Shit, I was just in a rush and didn't think about it.” Haechan shuffles around before pulling it out of his closet.

You watch him for a minute but as he fumbles around with it, you're starting to get a little impatient. The conference has probably already begun and while it's not uncommon for a driver to arrive a little late, you'd prefer the two of you to not be completely off time.

“Haechan, can you just sit down?” You sigh, taking the dryer from his hand and gently shoving him down.

Haechan, through his slight panic, registers that you're standing above him, between his legs, one hand gently pulling and ruffling his hair as you attempt to dry it as quickly as possible.

He thinks it's impossible how every once of exhaustion leaves his body, instead being replaced by the awareness of how close you are to him right now. It could be the heat from the hair dryer, or the air blowing onto his face but he knows the real reason why he feels frazzled is you.

Haechan's breaths come out slightly laboured. He's had a thousand moments where his heart beats at the speed of his car, but it's always been for a split second. When he loses control of his front or rear tyres, when he spins out, when he drifts a little too much, when another car gets too close to him. They end quickly though and he brings himself back into control.

But you. God, you stick him in this never ending cycle of losing his damn cool when you do things like these. And yeah, he tries to play it cool by coming off bold. But you catch him off guard multiple times. Haechan wonders if he's reading this situation right.

“They might ask you about Ferrari.” You interrupt his thoughts.

See! He thinks to himself. You do things like drying his fucking hair for him which he believes is completely unprofessional and not at all in your job description. He isn't complaining, no, never. But then you follow it up by suddenly becoming professional and it confuses the hell out of him. But Haechan can't say anything because he's a coward when it comes to actually telling you how he feels, so he nods and looks up at you as you turn off the dryer.

“Just be careful to not sound too cocky. You've earned a good advantage, but there's going to be a lot of Italian press and media and they won't really like it.” You stare him down and Haechan can only swallow and nod as he gets up to leave.

He thinks you'll follow him as he leaves but to his surprise, you stop him. You hate being late and he knows that. So he turns back to look at you quizzically.

You pause for a second not knowing how to do this before you decide to fuck it all and lean forward to give Haechan an awkward hug.

He freezes as your arms encircle his shoulder. Your mango and hibiscus perfume that he’s asked you about before has an addictive scent, filling his senses and sending his mind into overdrive.

“Good job today,” You mutter, “On winning, on staying safe, everything. I'm sure it'll all work out.”

Haechan is still speechless as you leave him, your face burning as you rush to leave the room.

He stares at you as you speed walk through the corridor, before stopping and motioning for him to come too. How the hell is he supposed to answer questions about the goddamn car after you pull something like that and make sure you're stuck in his head instead of the things he's supposed to say?

He takes a deep breath, willing his heart to slow down. It’s just a hug. A pat on the shoulder. Completely normal, right?

…Right?

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