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achenetype · 10 months ago

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Hihi can you please do a Luke x reader where it’s basically an unrequited love like reader is so in love with Luke and he has no idea so she moves on and years later she’s over him and confesses to him like a oh I thought you should know and the whole time Luke had been in love with her, kinda base it off that one TikTok audio where it’s like “I’m not in love with you anymore” “I never knew you were” 🩷🩷

OHH YOURE FEEDING MY ANGST BRAIN WITH THIS ONE. buckle up lets break some hearts

edit: this ended up being WAY sadder than i originally intended. i am so sorry anon oh my god

i gave you a rare gift (but you didn't want it) — luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

word count: 2.8k

content: angst, major character/reader death, unrequited love, mutual pining, reader is part of kronos' army, luke and reader are doomed by the narrative, [Y/N] used (sparingly), alcohol mention, description of injury

listening to: bloodfest (from mizumono) by brian reitzell

You are twenty-two years old, sitting on the rocky beach of a lake somewhere in the forests of upstate New York. Light, gentle fog hangs in the air around you, and the only sound is the tap-tap-tap of Luke skipping rocks across the water.

Come dawn, the world will burn. The gods will be dethroned. Every demigod will either be free, or dead.

But now, at midnight, you are twenty-three and Luke turns to you. He's holding a small, squashed cupcake in one hand. "Happy birthday," he says, "to my right-hand man." He pauses. "Woman. Right-hand woman."

He holds the pastry out to you and smiles, but something behind his eyes is empty. Hollow. He hadn't been sleeping recently. As much as he tried to hide it, he couldn't stop you from seeing when he came to you every morning for a cup of coffee and to debrief for the day.

Perks of being the revolution leader's best friend, you think. His right-hand woman.

Luke's eyes flick from the cake to your face. "Do you like it?" He asks, and for a split second, you swear there's a note of hope in his voice. "I wanted to do something, y'know," he says. "Twenty-three is huge. It's a monumental age."

You nod, but stay quiet.

He pauses for a second. "You remember how you always said you wished you never had a birthday?"

When you were twelve, nearly thirteen, your mother drove you across the country to go to summer camp.

"It'll be like a road trip," she said, tossing your duffel bag into the back seat of her battered car. "And then, hey, you'll only stay at camp until the end of August, and then you can come back and go to school. See all your friends again." She squeezed your shoulder and pushed the car door closed. "How about that?"

"Sure," you said. "Super fun."

And it was; you were actually kind of excited. You'd never been to New York. It seemed a million universes away.

And it was your birthday tomorrow. Maybe this was a gift, something that your mother had put together to make up for the years of being too tired and too drunk to make a cake, or get presents, or anything.

Your mother put her hands on her hips and sighed. "You know how I feel about the attitude, yeah? Let's not do this today."

"I wasn't even trying to—" You cut off as your mother glared at you, her face tense. You knew that look: the biting-the-inside-of-her-cheek, trying-to-be-understanding, trying-to-be-a-good-mom-despite-it-all look.

You hated that look.

"Just..." She sighed. "Just get in the damn car, [Y/N]."

You did, fighting back the tears building in the corners of your eyes, and the slam of the car door closing was as loud as thunder.

Twenty silent minutes of city streets and highway merge ramps and cold, empty stretches of asphalt and concrete passed before either of you spoke.

"Mom," you said, thirty-three seconds into minute twenty-one, "I'm sorry for talking back earlier." Your voice was quiet, shaking, cupped in your throat like a scared animal.

She didn't answer, keeping her eyes fixed on the road.

"I don't like being like this, Mom," you said, looking over at her. The silhouette of her through the driver's side window, backlit by the streetlights, was shapeless. Impassive. "I don't like doing this with you all the time."

She scoffed.

You pulled your legs to your chest, tucking your head between your knees, and tried to find sleep.

You weren't sure how long you slept, but you woke up to the sound of music playing softly over the speakers. Exit signs whizzed past you at what felt like breakneck speed. You wondered, briefly, if you would break your neck if you jumped out of the car right now.

Ultimately you decided against it. You didn't want your mother's last words to you to be, get in the damn car.

That would make her feel guilty, you thought, and that guilt would make her hate me even more.

"I don't wanna fight," you tried instead, picking at a loose thread in the cuff of your jacket sleeve. "Mom, I'm sorry, okay? I don't want us to be mad at each other anymore," you said. A sob caught in your throat, heavy and wet and choking.

Your mother sighed and reached one hand from the wheel to tuck your hair behind your ear. "I know you don't, sweetie," she said. "I don't want to be mad at you either."

"Then why do you do it," you asked.

When she turned to look at you, her eyes were wet. She smiled, or tried to. "Sometimes, certain people just…can't help but fight," she said. "It's just part of who we are, I think."

"Did you fight with Dad?"

Your mother inhaled, quick and sharp through her nose, as she flicked the turn signal to right and guided the car down the exit ramp from the highway, her eyes locked ahead. "Yes," she said. "Sometimes. Sometimes I think that's where we get it."

You swallowed. "Do you ever miss him?"

She doesn't peel her gaze away from the road. "Every day."

The two of you made your way through bustling streets and across too many bridges to count. You thought you fell asleep again, for a minute or maybe a year. Maybe it was all a dream.

"Mom," you asked as she turned onto a worn dirt road, the sunrise barely stretching over the horizon, "why are you bringing me here?"

She didn't answer for a moment. Two moments, then three. Through the leaves, you saw one tree standing impossibly tall. A pine tree.

Your mother parked the car and turned to you. "Because I don't know what to do with you, [Y/N]," she said. "I don't know how I can keep you," she paused, "safe. How I could do this, on my own, in any normal way."

She got out of the car and grabbed your bag, shoving it against your chest. "Camp is just up that hill there," she said, gesturing in the direction of the large tree you'd seen earlier. "They’ve got people up there waiting for you."

"Mom," you said. "Wait, I—I wanted to talk to you—"

She shook her head. "I can't come with you, sweetie." She smiled, the curve of her mouth falling just short of her eyes. "You just remember that I love you, okay?"

At that moment, you knew: she was going to leave you here.

“No,” you said, tears rolling down your face. “No, no—Mom. Mom, please.”

“Before you go,” she said, her voice tight and sharp, “I wanted to give you this.” She reached into the back seat and pulled out a jacket, worn leather with patched elbows. “It was mine in college,” she explained, not meeting your eyes. Like she was reading from a play or book, and you were the unfortunate audience. “I figure, it doesn’t fit me anymore.”

She pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Happy birthday, baby.”

It was the first time you had ever felt like your mother loved you. You knew she liked you, sometimes. But you were never quite sure if she loved you until that moment.

And then she got back into the car with one final, teary nod.

And you never saw her again.

“Yeah,” you tell Luke, shrugging. “I think I’ve got a pretty good reason, though.” Your lips curve into a smile.

He laughs and tilts his head. It’s a habit of his; he’ll say something and twist his neck just a fraction, narrow his eyes. A nervous tic that not even years of training and fighting and killing could stamp out.

You used to think about kissing his neck when he did it, but now you’re not sure whether you would know the difference between kissing and ripping his throat out.

“True,” Luke concedes. You laugh, too, unrestrained and loud. “Gods, your sense of humor is dark.”

“You laughed first,” you remind him. He grins.

The cupcake he offers you, despite its lumps and smears of frosting, is pretty good. You split it apart with careful fingers and hand half of it back to him.

“You’re celebrating with me,” you laugh, “so you get half. That’s the rule.”

Luke simply smiles at you and takes the crumbling cake from your hand. “Whatever you say.”

You roll your eyes, grinning back. “Damn right.”

Luke’s laugh rings out again, sharp and bright against the night sky. Firelight flickers across his face, painting him in brilliant streaks of orange and gold.

“After tomorrow,” Luke murmurs, pulling his knees up to his chest, “we can do this whenever we want.” The wind ruffles his hair almost fondly, floppy brown curls stirring and settling back against his skull.

You raise an eyebrow. “This?”

He gestures in a wide arc. “Be here, like this. Just be people, instead of demigods or heroes or revolutionaries.” Luke’s voice picks up, conviction surging into his words. “I mean, seriously—when was the last time you thought you would ever have a normal life?”

You’d never understood the demigods who joined Luke’s cause without knowing him. The plan itself seemed crazy—the only way anyone would follow it was if they knew their leader could pull it off.

You have to know Luke to know he was capable of that, you think.

Until now. Now, you see what you think everyone else sees—a real leader, a revolutionary. A force for change with a silver tongue.

He makes it all seem so possible. You almost think he might pull it off.

Luke looks over to you. “We’re going to change everything,” he says.

Almost.

“We’re going to change the rules,” Luke said, spreading the map over an empty cot in his cabin. “If we want to win, we need to be thinking six steps ahead of the enemy.”

A few of the campers huddled around the makeshift table shuffled and coughed awkwardly.

“Every strategy’s been done before,” a tall girl with bubblegum-pink hair and an eyebrow piercing shouted from the back of the group. “How are we going to out-war the god of war’s kids?”

Murmurs rushed around the table, soft and susurrant. There’s no way we’re going anywhere here. We’ve gotten our asses beat six weeks in a row. What are we even doing?

Luke smiled. “Ares is the god of war,” he said, “not strategy.” He slung his arm around one of the campers next to him and inclined his head in the direction of the map.

Quietly, almost too quiet for you to hear, he murmured into the girl’s ear. “Don’t doubt yourself, Bethy,” he whispered.

You learned three things in the ten minutes that she spent explaining your team’s new strategy—

—one, your team was going to kick some major ass—

—two, your strategist’s name was Annabeth Chase, and she was the smartest eight-year-old you have ever met—

—and three, Luke was right.

Annabeth’s plan took the rules of Capture the Flag and threw them out the window. She split the team into four subgroups, each with a delegated leader. Luke nodded along as she talked, marking the map with a stubby pencil.

When Annabeth’s eyes, dark and piercing, searched the crowd and landed on you, you felt your heart stop.

“You,” she said, “are you good with a sword?”

You raised your eyebrow, pointing to yourself—just to confirm this genius child was speaking to you—and Annabeth nodded.

“I guess?” You said, shrugging. “I know some basic stuff, and I’m good at disarming.”

Annabeth’s face broke into a smile. “Work with Luke on the first wave of offense.” She gestured to the map. “You two will take points B and B-one,” she explained. “My group will take the A-points. You wait for our signal to move in.”

You met Luke’s eyes across the table. Hey, you mouthed.

His eyes flicked up and down your form. Hey, he mouthed back. You ready to win?

You smiled and nodded.

Good, Luke said, all teeth. Let’s go.

He stood and grabbed his helmet. You did the same.

“I’m [Y/N],” you said as you followed Luke through the forest. “We, uh—we met when I first got here, like, a year ago.” I was sobbing my eyes out because my mother abandoned me, you didn’t add. It was kind of pathetic. I think I threw up from crying so hard.

You suddenly hoped Luke didn’t remember meeting you, actually. That would be less embarrassing.

He turned and caught your eye. “You live in the same cabin as me. ‘Course I know you.”

Of course he remembers.

You laughed, flushing red. “Oh. Yeah. Of course.”

The silence was so thick, you could have cut it with the sleek bronze of your sword.

In the end, it was Luke who broke the silence. “You wanna play a game while we wait out here?”

You shrugged. “Sure,” you said.

“Twenty questions,” Luke replied. “So we can learn enough about each other to actually work together.” He smiled. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Low-hanging fruit,” you said, your voice just barely taking on a teasing tone. “It’s green.”

Luke laughed, loud and full and bright. “Apologies,” he said; mirth crept into his words, staining everything with a tinge of that laughter. “I’ll go for the more gut-wrenching, intimate questions next time.”

You flushed red again. Intimate questions. What the hell does he mean by that?

“My turn,” you said instead. “What do you want to be when you get older?”

“We’ll be heroes,” Luke whispers. “Real heroes. Not figureheads propped up by the gods.”

You wish you could believe him. He’s lying on the beach next to you, his head resting in the junction between your shoulder and your neck. Over the treetops, the stars are beginning to fade from the sky.

It’s almost time.

Your throat feels like someone has sanded it down to expose your vocal cords. This is a bad idea, you want to say. We shouldn’t do this. Tell me we can still not do this.

“Wanna play twenty questions?” You say, crackling and hoarse.

Luke turns to look at you. “Yeah,” he murmurs.

“My turn first,” you whisper. Luke nods.

You take a deep breath, in and out. “Are we going to die doing this?”

Luke inhales sharply. “Maybe,” he says. Slowly. Deliberately. “But we’ll do everything we can to make sure we don’t.”

“I got another question,” you say. Luke raises an eyebrow. His knuckles brush yours as you sit up.

“Are you scared?”

It’s your birthday.

You think you’re going to die.

Luke is kneeling over you, the palm of his hand pressed against the wet opening in your stomach where someone had caught you with a spear. The shaft of it is still sticking out of you, you think. You’re afraid to look down, afraid to see it.

“No,” Luke gasps, “no, no, no.”

You watch as the gold fades from his eye, leaving behind the honey-dark brown you remember. His hands are slick with blood—most of it’s probably yours, it has to be yours. You’re bleeding out, after all.

You tug on Luke’s sleeve weakly. “Hey,” you breathe. “Luke. It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“No,” he says. “You’re—you’re hurt.”

“I know,” you rasp. “I know it hurts. I’m the one—”

You break off as a cough sticks in your throat. It feels wet. Oily. Desperate to get out. You taste the blood in the back of your throat before you can even take another breath.

“—I’m the one who’s feeling it,” you finish, your voice tilting up at the end. A joke. Gods, your sense of humor is dark.

Luke laughs weakly. “Don’t talk,” he says. “You’re gonna be just fine, [Y/N], just fine.”

He meets your eyes. You see him realize it in slow motion.

Tell him. Tell him now. He’s never going to know otherwise—he could die any minute—

“Luke,” you murmur. “Luke, did you know I loved you?”

He freezes. “What?”

You cough again. Blood spills over your lips. “I loved you,” you repeat. “Since we were campers. Had the…the biggest, stupidest crush on you.”

Luke shakes his head. “No, no,” he says. “You—”

“You’re my best friend,” you continue. “Whatever feelings were there, you’re my best friend.”

Luke’s palm against your stomach is warm. It feels safe. It feels like sleeping side-by-side in the cabin, like shared meals and shared secrets.

“Why are you telling me this?” Luke says, “why are you—why?”

You blink, just once, but it takes everything you have to open your eyes again after closing them. “Because I’m going to die,” you whisper. “And even if—even though I moved on, I wanted you to…to know.”

Luke bows over your body, pressing his forehead to yours. Tears slip from his cheeks and fall onto yours, driving little rivers through the blood smeared there.

He’s crying. Why is he—

“You idiot,” Luke says brokenly. “I loved you too. I loved you too.” He cradles your head in his lap, brushing your hair away from your face. “[Y/N], I’m so sorry.”

Your eyes slip shut.

I loved you too, Luke’s voice echoes. I loved you too.

#— ash's writing #pjo x reader #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan x you #reader insert #y/n #pjo imagine #ok now we get into the warning tags #graphic depictions of injury #major character death #major character injury #reader death #alcohol mention #doomed by the narrative #genuinely im so sorry i really ran wild with this one good god #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan fanfic #— ash’s answering!

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k-labels · 2 months ago

Text

↬ NEW RELEASE: 'race to your heart' (2024) by emer !

RACE TO YOUR HEART 𓂃 이희승

✷ lee heeseung who's always been a pro at racing takes on a change of pacing ; racing for your heart.

f1 racer heeseung︲fem reader ︲fluff, romance, angst, strangers to lovers, mechanic! reader︲pet names, grammar errors, cursing, yeonjun is kinda an ass, alcohol consumption, jealousy, poor communication, kissing︲16.7k / more

1ST EMAIL IN TO: YOUR HEART COLLECTION

─── ♡

LEE HEESEUNG was no stranger to racing. from the loud roar of the engine, to the chant of fans surrounding the track hoping to see him come out on top, and the split-second decisions that could mean the difference between victory and defeat were all too familiar to him.

with many fans who adored his fierce attitude and passion for racing, there was no denying that he was one of the best f1 racers of his generation.

as soon as he puts on his crimson red helmet, he’s a completely different person. a full 180, from the sweet, observant, and attentive man he usually is. there comes his competitive side where he’s got his eyes on the prize.

he’s adorned many trophies over the years, winning many competitions over, at some point he felt numb to it. win after win. many could only wish to feel “nothing” from winning.

a new type of race. he needed a new prize.

now, while he may be a pro at racing cars, was he a pro at racing to someone’s heart? hell no. far from it.

so, when a cute new mechanic arrives as the replacement for one season only, it’s then he decides, it’s a race to your heart against time. he’s determined to win something other than a race. to win your heart.

except he only has 167 days and he’s got to make every one worth it.

─── ♡

youd always had a love for cars from a young age and even repaired your first car with your dad. a red vintage mustang, practically in shambles when you first got it.

your dad agreed to help you fix it as long as you bought it, so one summer job later, your pockets were lined with cash or at least enough to barely afford the broken car for a price that took days of haggling for a flat $500.

essentially, you had built that car ground up considering how broken it was, but that feeling of working with cars was something you just couldn’t dismiss.

you had your heart set on working with cars, no matter what. throughout highschool you had taken many shop classes and earned high marks, and even through college, you repaired cars on the side for some extra cash.

you used that cash to take classes at night in order to get your qualifications to be a mechanic despite your parents’ wishes against it.

you’d never really thought about where your future of cars might lead you, and you’d never considered being an f1 mechanic until your friend karina had brought it up.

“you’re joking, right?” you asked after karina suggested it. “listen, i love working with cars but f1? sure it's a dream, but that’s the scary fast stuff for the rich people that take cars too seriously,” you continued denying any possibility that you could be an f1 mechanic.

“i mean, you’re good at what you do, and you have the qualifications for it, what’s so bad about it?” karina shrugged, putting down her pencil.

“rina hand me that wrench near the phone there,” you motioned with your head towards your work area. “okay listen, i’d have to travel constantly, and it’s completely different cars from what us commoners drive,” you continued defending your point once again.

“okay well, just think of the money,” she attempted to convince you once again. “broke girls like us need that sorta cash,”

you hummed in response to her argument as she handed you the wrench you asked for. she wasn’t wrong. working as a mechanic under your boss didn’t necessarily suck per se, buuut it could be better.

“plus, you won’t even have to stay working as a mechanic for long. just find a cute, rich racer and you’re set for life, never work another day,” she teased, referring back to your “plan a” in life of just finding someone rich instead of working your ass off.

you wouldn’t call yourself a gold digger necessarily, but hey if finding someone rich while doing your job came along, you wouldn’t be too opposed to it. all of a sudden being a mechanic for those fancy cars didn’t sound too bad.

“okay fine. fair point,” you caved, “what’s in it for you though hm?” you questioned the authenticity of her suggestion.

“got me there,” she sighed, “there’s this super cute guy who races for ferrari, jake, and my dad knows a person who knows a person, who…” she noticed you rolling your eyes, at her extensive speech.

“long story short, i can get you a job as a mechanic there,” she clapped her hands giddily.

so that’s how you ended up here. in monaco. you reminisced on the memory from months ago, sighing. she was indeed very convincing or else you wouldn’t be here now.

with a loud clap from your boss, you were snapped out of your trance in an instant.

“alright team, sun’s shining bright,and it’s looking like a real good day. i’m sure by now you guys have met y/n, who’ll be joining us for today's race,” your new boss motioned towards you. you awkwardly bowed your head to meet your peers around you.

“beomgyu, i’m gonna need you to show y/n around the hospitality today,” he instructed, pulling you and the manto the side.

“hi, i'm beomgyu, i’ve been working here for around 3 years, hope we can get along well,” he smiled softly. your nerves were relaxed upon hearing the welcoming words.

“y/n, i’m new to this f1 stuff, so honestly i’m nervous with the cars we’ll be working with,” you chuckled nervously.

“don’t sweat it. i'll just show you around and how we run stuff. maybe you’ll even meet some drivers if they’re hanging around, doubt it though,” he reassured, patting your back as the two of your walked to the hospitality.

you were in awe of the big space. sure, you had seen it through pictures when karina was gawking about how nice it’d be, but this was on a whole new level.

from the luxury cars parked on the grass, to the view overlooking the track, it was truly astonishing just being able to be here.

“so yeah! there’s not much to it, the place is cool and all but most of our time is gonna be spent down at the garage. but hey! when you’re on break you can enjoy the sweet, sweet view up here,” he commented, ending off the tour on a high.

you smiled pleasantly making a mental note to call karina later and thank her for the opportunity.

“beomgyu! what are you doing here? i thought you’d be down at the garage,” a voice chirped from behind you. the voice neared and you saw a figure pulling beomgyu in for a hug.

“heeseung! hey man i’ll be there shortly, just showing our new mechanic around the hospitality,” beomgyu greeted back cheerfully.

the man looked down at you with a kind smile and nodded, “great to have you here! i'm heeseung, one of the drivers for ferrari, and you are..?” he trailed off hoping to catch your name.

“y/n. glad to meet you as well,” you smiled curtly because wow. karina was not lying when she said that the racers were good looking people.

“so you’re the lee heeseung, as in the reigning champion of f1?” you jokingly clarified to fill the silence

he chuckled and nodded, taking note of your name in the process “well anyways, i should get going. super great meeting you though,” he turned to leave.

“oh yeah, beomgyu, you should come too, they wanted you to do one final check on the car to make sure it was good to go,” he quickly called out, motioning for beomgyu to follow.

with that, you watched as the two exited the building leaving you to your own devices. It wasn’t long until you had to be at the garage either.

you looked at your phone to check the time, 10:21 am, may 24th, 2024. only 198 days til the season was over. and it barely felt like you could survive this weekend of racing alone.

─── ♡

“who is she?” heeseung asked watching beomgyu check the car thoroughly.

“who, y/n?” beomgyu asked back.

“yeah, her,”

“just the new mechanic. it’s her first time doing f1 shit so i wouldn’t expect the world out of h-“

“she’s funny,” heeseung cut off, too lost in thought. beomgyu rolled his eyes at the two word comment he got cut off for.

heeseung, frankly, was a fool. he was drawn to you and would love to get to know you more. being friends with your mechanics cannot go poorly, right?

to be honest, he had seen you before you had walked in the building and admired your passion when speaking with the other mechanics.

ever since seeing that he’s wanted to talk to you, and that’s all that’s been on his mind.

“well, you’re all good to go for your practice laps, just don’t crash, thinking about her,” the boy teased, patting heeseung on the back for motivation.

“yeah yeah like that’s gonna happen,” heeseung snorted at the silly comment. how could he, f1’s reigning champion, crash? well, it might happen if he’s too busy thinking about ferrari’s new and cute mechanic, you.

heeseung slid into the driver seat of the car, the space feeling all too familiar to him. a second home if he was being honest. as his assistant handed him his helmet and he put it on, it was like a switch flipped.

as he revved the engine, he could see from the corner of his eye you giving a giddy wave as if you were a fan girl (which you basically were to be fair). he chuckled at the gesture.

cute. he thought to himself as he set off on his laps.

the groove of the road slowly felt more and more familiar the more he drove.

soon enough it was time for the real deal, the final race of the weekend.

heeseung took a final deep breath sliding into the car, and began creeping up to the starting position. he’d been driving for a while and while it was in his nature to feel relaxed typically, he couldn’t help but feel nervous with a new set of eyes on him.

he suppressed the voices within and let the switch in him flip to the lee heeseung that many knew as ferrari’s star driver.

for you on the other hand, you felt nothing but excitement to watch the races throughout the weekend. you had watched heeseung’s fiery determination from practice to qualifying, and were nothing more than eager to watch the final race commence.

with that, you watched the red lights countdown, and soon enough, off they went with a blur.

“pulling ahead, in the lead is ferrari’s star lee heeseung with their new and improved model, lets see how well it’ll hold up against mclaren’s newest driver, choi yeonjun, coming up not far behind,” the announcer broadcasted loudly.

watching the race take place in real life, this close, felt straight out of a movie, and you could barely comprehend that this was even happening.

you watched heeseung’s bright red ferrari and yeonjun’s orange mclaren trade between first and second place, everyone seemingly falling farther and farther behind. the two bright cars seemed to only be competing with each other and no one else.

the minutes soon passed by and the first race was closing out. you watched as the orange blur overtook ferrari’s signature red near the end of the track, sighing in what you thought would be defeat.

“lee heeseung not far behind picks up the pace to catch up with choi yeonjun… will he be able to pull it off? and HE DOES BY LESS THAN A SECOND, WINNING THE MONACO GRAND PRIX FOR 2024” the announcer exclaims with enthusiasm.

cheers erupt from the fans surrounding the track, eliciting an unfamiliar and unique emotion. it became clear to you why so many adored f1 racing, and cheering for their favorites.

you cheer from the sidelines pumped up seeing your team win off the bat for the season and smile feeling a sense of pride wash over.

─── ♡

the long drawn out weekend ended with heeseung’s in first place narrowly beating yeonjun. he was cutting it too close. closer than usual that is.

“insane race today, good shit though,” jake dapped him up, going in for a hug after taking his helmet off.

“i was scared for a second honestly, what do they put in these new guys,” heeseung retorts back to his close friend (and teammate), taking his own helmet off. he shakes his head letting his messy hair fall down naturally.

“that yeonjun guy has some serious potential though, shame he’s an asshole though i’ve heard,” jake shrugs after nodding off to the other mechanics to deal with the car.

“really? who'd you hear that from,” heeseung asks mindlessly, walking towards the hospitality.

“sunghoon from red bull told me, even the mechanics don’t like him apparently,” jake continued on with heeseung humming in response.

“hey, who’s the new mechanic for you? beomgyu said you were getting a replacement,” jake questions curiously to his fellow teammate.

he thinks to himself for a moment recalling the interaction earlier, and the silly joke you had made earlier.

“y/n. she’s cute, beomgyu introduced me,”

“cute? that’s what you point out?” jake laughs at the seemingly shallow comment.

“i’m bad with women, you know that. she’s nice and i really wanted to say more but i didn’t wanna scare her off. i think i want to get to know her better,” heeseung explained.

“man, you really suck with women, but it’s not like i'm any better. you’re on your own,” jake snorts, giving him 0 reassurance.

─── ♡

it didn’t take long for heeseung to make his first move in an attempt to talk to you more.

he had a plan. he was indeed a man with his plan.

step one: find out how to talk to you more.

it started with talking with beomgyu to find your hotel room number for the night and quite a few questions from the man asking why lee heeseung, the young star with a bright future ahead, would need it.

“i’m just tryna get to know my team a little better, what’s so bad about that?” heeseung defended himself raising his hands up as if surrendering.

and after 10 minutes of haggling —yelling— with beomgyu, and one long talk from the receptionist asking you to keep it down in the hall because guests were sleeping, he finally got your room number… just not through beomgyu.

“hey, uh, did i miss a page?” you wipe the sleep from your eyes as you poke your head out from your room.

“everything is great! don't worry about it! isn’t that right gyu,” heeseung grins, waving his hands as if telling you to ‘not worry about it’.

“uh huh, okay” beomgyu rolls his eyes walking back to his own room leaving just you and heeseung in the hall.

you nervously approach the tall man despite being tired, in your pajamas, and feeling slightly embarrassed, but nonetheless wanting to figure out what the commotion had been about.

“um, so what was that about?” you question curiously, which you had every right to at this point.

“hi, i'm heeseung. i don’t know if you remember or not but i was wondering if you wanted to grab coffee in the morning at the cafe blocks down,” he asked shyly scratching the back of his head nervously.

you blew it. you absolutely just fucking blew it. his inner voice told himself.

“sure, sounds great. i’ll be there at 7:30,” you mumble out tiredly, after all, it had been a long first day on the job.

he grins upon hearing your response despite it sounding incredibly unenthusiastic. i mean c’mon, he just woke you up yelling in the hallway, you can’t be that glad.

“sounds amazing,” he smiles. “i’ll be ready by then, pretty,” he turns to leave in the direction of his room.

“oh, and sorry for waking you up,” he apologized quickly. you giggle at the way he sounds almost out of breath from arguing with beomgyu earlier but still wanted to make an effort.

heeseung smiled to himself hearing you giggle. maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.

he spent that night thinking of all the different ways a conversation with you could possibly go, replaying every memory of you in his mind that night. just something about you was so incredibly captivating, he had to figure it out.

heeseung was up before the sun, the soft hum of the city still waking up as he slipped on a hoodie and grabbed his keys. it wasn’t often he found himself nervous—he was used to high pressure situations, the kind that made most people sweat. but today wasn’t about lap times or podium finishes.

you had agreed to have a coffee with him in the morning, and the thought of it had his heart racing faster than any f1 car ever could.

it wasn’t a date, at least, not officially. just a morning coffee. casual. easy. but the way he had been thinking about it all night made it feel like something more.

he reached the café early, of course. it was small, tucked away from the main streets, the kind of place where you could go unnoticed. perfect. he picked a table near the window, fingers drumming on the edge of the table, glancing out every few minutes, waiting for you to walk through the door.

you still couldn’t quite believe that lee heeseung, ferrari’s golden boy and one of the most sought-after drivers in the world, had asked you to coffee. the whole thing felt surreal. you had only talked once before—a brief conversation (if you can even call it that) before the race.

the question had caught you off guard. you had blinked, unsure if he was just being friendly or if there was more behind the offer. but the easy smile on his face made it seem harmless, so you said yes without thinking too hard about it.

after all, why not? it wasn’t like you were going to pass up breakfast with a formula 1 driver, the lee heeseung, even if it was just a friendly gesture.

but now, the night before, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, you found yourself replaying the moment in your head. what exactly had prompted him to ask you? you had only talked for a few seconds, nothing deep or particularly memorable, at least on your end. or so you thought.

you figured it was probably just a spur-of-the-moment thing. maybe he was bored, or maybe he just liked getting to know people. either way, it wasn’t a big deal. right?

you turned over in bed, groaning softly. why were you overthinking this? heeseung had probably forgotten about it already, while here she was, lying awake, wondering if she should dress up or just go casual.

it wasn’t like it was a date or anything—just coffee. just a second conversation with a guy who happened to race cars for a living (and was super cute).

still, there was something about the way he’d asked. his tone had been casual, but his eyes had held yours a moment longer than she expected, like he was genuinely hoping you'd say yes. and that small detail had stuck with you, now making you second guess yourself.

you sighed, grabbing your phone from the bedside table to check the time—2 a.m. great. if you didn’t get some sleep soon, you'd show up looking like a zombie. but as you tried to settle down again, your mind kept wandering back to him.

─── ♡

as you approached the café, a soft breeze tugged at your hair, and the early morning sun cast a golden glow over the quiet street. it was still early enough that the city hadn’t fully woken up yet—just a few people walking their dogs or grabbing coffee to-go.

the air felt crisp and cool, carrying with it the faint scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked bread from the nearby shops.

you nervously fidgeted with the strap of your bag as you reached the door. inside, everything seemed quieter than the world outside, yet still lively in a sense

your eyes sweep the room, and then you see him. heeseung, sitting by the window, bathed in the soft morning light. he looks calm, leaning back slightly in his chair, fingers tapping lightly on the table as he stares out at the street unaware of your presence.

he soon takes notice, waving to you to come sit with him, and your feet move your way over before your mind can even process the small interaction.

“hey,” he greets you as you sit down, his voice low but warm, the kind that feels like it wraps around you and pulls you in. “glad you made it.”

you offer a small smile, trying to match his ease. “yeah, thanks for inviting me. i hope i’m not too late.”

he shakes his head, his eyes soft as they meet yours. “nah, not at all. i’ve been looking forward to this.” his words are casual, but there’s something about the way he says it—like he really means it—that makes your heart skip.

shut up, he's just being nice. you think to yourself. just a temporary job, then i'm back home. you couldn’t afford getting too attached to anyone here, it was just a job at the end of the day.

“really?” you manage to muster out despite your thoughts.

heeseung grins, a boyish charm lighting up his face as he leans forward slightly. “well, it’s not every day that I get to have breakfast with someone who isn’t a driver or a team manager.”

“oh, so i’m just a change of pace for you?” you tease, raising an eyebrow.

“maybe,” he says, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “or maybe it’s because i don’t know you that well yet, and i kind of want to.”

the sentence caught you off guard with the amount of sincerity he used to say each and every word.

“sorry didn’t mean to make it weird,” he mumbled out in a sort of embarrassment for his statement.

you giggled at his nervous excitement of the situation and reassured him it was okay to which he smiled feeling relieved of a potential headache of overthinking.

an oddly comfortable silence fills the air as the two of you take in the bustling atmosphere around you of people just going about their mundane day.

normally coffee with a person you barely know would be awkward to say the least, but with heeseung it felt eerily normal.

“so how'd you get into racing?” you ask, breaking the said silence.

“mostly video games, honestly, i played racing games when i was younger and i've always just been in love with the speed that comes with it. my cousin knew someone who did karting so i guess that's how it all started,” he responds, reminiscing about his childhood spent playing racing games with his older brother.

you nod at the mini backstory you had asked for and take a sip of your coffee before he asks you in return, “how’d you get into being a mechanic?”

and before you can answer, he receives a phone call. you smile and nod telling him to take the call to which he does.

heeseung pressed the phone to his ear, his patience already fraying as the call came at the worst possible moment.

“hey, listen, i’m kind of busy right now,” he said, trying to keep his irritation in check. “can i call you back in, say, 30 minutes?”

he could practically hear the stress on the other end of the line, and he rolled his eyes internally. of course, there was always something—always a problem that couldn’t wait. of course.

“no, this is important,” came the firm response, cutting through any hope that he might get even a short reprieve.

heeseung’s jaw tightened. “okay…?” his tone edged with the same frustration he was trying to suppress,

there was a pause, followed by a deep sigh. “it’s about the car. the engine isn’t working, and we need you to come down.”

he sighed, his hand tapping on the table, displeased to say the least. of all days and time for the car to act up, it had to be now. glancing across the table at you, he knew his morning with you was about to be cut short.

“give me a moment to finish up. y/n’s with me—do you want me to drive her there then?”

he gave you a tight, apologetic smile, pointing to the phone as he mouthed "manager," signaling the sudden shift in mood.

you nodded, watching him closely as he turned his attention back to the call, already feeling the tension radiating from him.

“sure, why not,” the manager replied, sounding distracted, like they didn’t really care about anything other than getting him to the garage.

heeseung hung up with an irritated sigh, shaking his head as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. “the car’s engine is messed up or something,” he muttered, his tone sharper than he intended. then he looked at you, softening slightly. “we gotta head down there. i’ll drive you.”

he could feel the frustration simmering beneath the surface, not just because of the car, but because this was supposed to be a break—time spent away from the chaos, a change of pace as he put it earlier.

but then you smiled, that same light-hearted grin he’d come to appreciate, and you said, “hey, maybe this can be my first proper job for f1 then, huh?”

heeseung couldn’t help but smile, your enthusiasm cutting through his irritation. he let out a soft chuckle, the tension in his shoulders loosening just a bit. “hmm, maybe,” he said, his tone more relaxed now. “guess we’ll see then.”

as he stood up and grabbed his keys, he watched you mirror his movements. despite the shift in plans, you weren’t phased. if anything, you were handling the disruption better than he was.

he led the way out of the café, his mind already half-focused on the problem with the car, but he tried to stay in the moment, glancing over at you as you walked beside him.

you didn’t seem to mind the sudden change of plans, and that alone made it easier for him to let go of some of the frustration.

at the car, he opened the door for you without thinking, a gesture that took you by surprise, quietly thanking him as you climbed in. he hesitated for a moment, resting his hand on the car roof.

he settled into the car watching you intently as you studied the detailed black interior of the car, aweing at the time it must have taken to make such an intricate car.

“sorry about this,” he murmured, his voice a little quieter, more sincere than before. “i didn’t plan for it to happen today.” he continued more apologetically.

“don’t worry about it,” you replied, settling into the passenger seat. “besides, it’ll be interesting to see what’s going on with the car, right? maybe i’ll learn something new.”

a wave of admiration came across him for your positivity, it was blinding honestly.

sure, the car’s engine problem was weighing on his mind, but somehow, sitting here with you made it feel like it wasn’t such a big deal. for once, even amidst the chaos of racing, he felt grounded—thanks to you.

the car ride had that same comfortable silence in the air, neither of you wanting to add more to think about. both of your minds lingered on the thought of what could’ve possibly happened to the engine.

“so..”

“right, how did you get into car stuff, being a mechanic?” he asked, wanting to finish the conversation earlier until he had been interrupted by “car stuff”.

“my dad fixed cars for fun and he showed me,” you smiled. he hummed in response hearing the humble backstory, glad to know more about you.

“what’s the plan after this mechanic gig is up?” he asked, prying further into your life, just wanting to keep the conversation going.

you stared out the window admiring the blur of the city going by. “hmm, i'll probably just go back home to my old job, this was kinda a one off, if i'm being honest,” you answered with a sort of hesitancy, realizing this little dream job would end in less than a year. he hummed in response not wanting to encourage your dwelling.

“when i read up on you, i saw we have the same hometown, funny huh?” you continued in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“reading up on me huh?” he teased to which you rolled your eyes trying to keep your own composure.

“hey, i need to know who i'm working with,” lie. you stayed up longer than you should’ve last night looking him up. article to article.

“honored my name is on your search history then, pretty,” the reoccurring nickname sending your brain into a frenzy.

“u-uh yeah.” you stutter out still feeling giddy.

─── ♡

“there you guys are, finally,” his manager greeted the both of you. you shyly greeted him back before he hurriedly debriefed you on the situation at hand

“y/n, the rest of the mechanics are over in that garage if you want to take a look,” he motioned in some other direction to which you nodded.

part of you cheered giddily for getting to be able to do something, contribute if you will, but otherwise, you were nervous. nervous for failure on your first attempt at fixing an f1 car.

stepping into the garage, the smell of fuel and engine oil hit you immediately, mixing with the faint scent of rubber from the tires. a few mechanics stood huddled around the open hood of the car, their heads bent in concentration.

you looked around, with your eyes eventually settling on a girl with a dark wine red, who glanced up when she noticed you approaching.

“y/n right? beomgyu said you were coming, i'm yunjin,” she greeted cheerfully bringing relief to your mind which was in its own way, racing. “here to get your hands dirty?”

you smiled back, feeling slightly more at ease with her laid-back demeanor. “yeah, that’s the plan,” you replied, though your voice still carried a hint of nervousness. beomgyu greeted you, while coming out of another room looking exasperated.

“what’s the situation with the engine?” you asked curiously.

beomgyu sighed, tossing the rag aside. “we’re looking at a potential misfire, could be an issue with the MGU-H, maybe something off with the ignition system. not even sure yet,”

he motioned toward the engine, the massive power unit exposed as wires and components sprawled out in a delicate maze of engineering.

you took a step closer, peering into the engine bay. the complexity of it was overwhelming, but also fascinating—an intricate system of components that, when functioning perfectly, powered the fastest cars on the planet.

you glanced over the mechanics’ shoulders, watching as they carefully inspected each connection, each part.

“so… where can i help?” you asked, feeling a little more confident now that you were in the thick of things, seeing how in some ways it looked familiar to the cars you had worked with.

beomgyu chuckled softly, his eyes scanning the engine before nodding toward a diagnostic tablet nearby. “we could use an extra set of eyes on the data. see if you can make sense of these readings. we’re trying to narrow down where the issue is coming from.”

you picked up the tablet, the screen displaying various engine parameters—temperatures, pressure readings, electrical currents. it was a lot to take in, but you focused, scrolling through the data while beomgyu and the others worked around you.

a few hours had passed, and just as you were starting to get into a rhythm, you heard footsteps approaching. looking up, you saw heeseung walking over, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. he stopped beside you, glancing at the tablet in your hands.

“how’s it going, pretty?” he asked, his voice low.

the nickname caught you off guard and surprised you by how it flowed out so easily from him.

“it’s… a lot,” you admitted with a small laugh, holding up the tablet for him to see. “but i’m getting there. beomgyu’s been helping me figure it out.”

“i'm sure you’ll get it, i trust you,” he reassured with a warm smile. “more than beomgyu for the matter honestly,” he whispered secretively to you, holding a smirk.

“I HEARD THAT!” beomgyu shouted approaching the tall man, smiling.

you smiled seeing the childish interaction between the two of them, bickering back and forth. it felt familiar.

“mm pretty sure you didn’t but okay,” heeseung scoffed, starting to walk away, giving you a wink in the process, giving you an eruption of butterflies in your stomach.

this can’t just be a friendly thing right? you thought to yourself fighting an internal war in your head. a constant back and forth.

you watched him go, the air feeling a little lighter (ironically) without him nearby. you could finally think straight.

you focused back on the task at hand. working with beomgyu, you continued to pour over the data, narrowing down the possible issues.

after a while, something in the numbers caught your eye—a sudden dip in one of the electrical readings.

“hey, beomgyu, look at this,” you said, pointing to the screen. “could this be related to the MGU-H failure you mentioned?”

he leaned over, his eyes following where you pointed. “yeah… that’s definitely something. good catch.”

you felt a small surge of pride at his words, feeling a little more confident in your contribution now. hey, maybe it wasn’t all too bad hiring you. you had eyes that could catch a dip in a graph. what a relief!

heeseung went about his day busy with many other meetings about marketing and such with lots of new information to take in. honestly though, he was just waiting to get out of them and make it up to you through dinner, and the opportunity arose not long after you noticed him waiting for you outside the garage.

“hi, hee,” he could’ve sworn his heart was doing backflips and the thumping in his heart was audible.

“hi y/n, what’s up with the nickname?” he managed to respond, keeping his composure which seemed to be a lot harder than he had intended for it to be.

“mm just figured i should come up with something for you since you have something for me,” you explained softly, a shy smile fell over your face.

“is that okay..?” you asked after a few moments of no response or expression showing on his face. truthfully, he was still in shock you were bold enough to give him a nickname. a nickname he was in love with hearing it from your mouth.

“no yeah! call me whatever you’d like,” he smiled warmly, giving you a look of reassurance. to which you felt calmer, the second-guessing thoughts receding like the ocean and its shoreline.

“okay then, hee,” you repeated, testing it out again, your voice carrying a playful lilt as you gave him a quick, shy glance. the way the nickname rolled off your tongue made your heart flutter, and you couldn’t help the giggle that followed, light and soft, as if it was your own secret joke with him.

a rosy pink shade rose to his ears hearing it again. what he’d give to hear it over and over again like its own song. a moment of that familiar silence arose again, the slight breeze comforting alongside it.

“i think i have to get back to work, but i’ll see you around?” you broke the silence as reluctant as you were.

his smile didn’t falter, though inside he found himself wishing the moment would stretch on a little longer. “yeah, for sure,” he replied, his voice a little brighter, though his mind was already racing back to the swimming sessions he had to return to. the thought of going back to the simulator, locked in hours of tedious practice, wasn’t exactly thrilling, but it was necessary.

still, right now, all he wanted was to hold on to this little piece of time with you.

“good luck with practice,” you added with a small smile, your hand brushing slightly against his arm in a casual, fleeting gesture. the warmth of your touch lingered even as you stepped back, turning to leave.

“thanks,” he said, his voice softer now, watching you go with a quiet fondness. “see you soon.”

as you walked away, heeseung found himself staring after you for a moment longer than he should have. a part of him wanted to call you back, to find some excuse to keep talking, to hear you say his name just one more time. but instead, he sighed softly, shaking his head at himself.

“holy fuck, pull it together, she’s just a friend” he muttered under his breath, already dreading the simulator waiting for him. but even as he trudged back to the track, his thoughts kept circling back to you.

he didn’t know what would happen next, but he knew one thing for sure: he couldn’t wait to see you again.

─── ♡

one race to the next, it barely felt like you had any time. before you knew it, you already hopped on a plane to canada to prepare for the next race up ahead. the job has not been as expected, tiring to say the least but it felt rewarding in some aspects.

heeseung on the other hand, if you were tired, he was on a different level. sitting through meetings non stop, simulating to what felt 25/8. he was exhausted.

if there was any highlight however, it had to be seeing you throughout the day. the small waves you'd give him when seeing him around, to the small smiles you'd give him when you were a too busy.

y/n: hi! this is y/n, beomgyu gave me your number. want to grab dinner after you’re done? read 7:31pm

he would be lying if he didnt say he was elated to receive a text from you.

“is that your y/n?” jake asked, peering over heeseung’s shoulder to read the text catching him very much off guard.

“maybe,” he mumbled, trying to play it cool while already typing his response, his fingers dancing over the screen with a mix of excitement and nerves.

heeseung: hi, sounds good with me. read 7:35pm heeseung: i can get take out, and meet by the park nearby at 8 maybe? read 7:35pm

“and there goes our dinner plans,” jake teased, dramatically faking a sob as he leaned back in his chair. “he’s all grown up now.”

heeseung shot him a playful glare, trying to suppress a grin. it was hard not to feel a rush of happiness as he awaited your reply.

y/n: sure! read 7:36pm

heeseung hurriedly tossed his things into his bag, hands moving faster than his thoughts as he glanced at the time. he was already running late, and the last thing he wanted was to keep you waiting.

without much thought, he grabbed whatever was in reach—his keys, his jacket—and slung his bag over his shoulder.

on his way out, he made a quick stop at the food court, scanning the options with little patience. he settled for the first thing he saw—some greasy chinese takeout, barely giving it a second glance as he paid and rushed out.

i mean you can never go wrong with 5 hour old egg rolls, friend rice, and general tso’s chicken from someone who’s name was probably not even general tso’s.

it wasn’t the best choice, but he figured it would do. after all, it wasn’t about the food—it was about seeing you. or at least for him it was. he started praying on the way that you weren’t expecting some high quality 5 star food.

heeseung was practically speed-walking now, juggling the takeout bag in one hand and his phone in the other as he checked the time again. 7:53pm. he had a little time, but not enough to feel comfortable.

he couldn’t believe how much effort he was putting into something as simple as takeout and a park bench, but then again, this wasn’t just anyone—this was you.

as he neared the park, the familiar buzz of his phone snapped him out of his thoughts.

y/n: i’m here! just by the fountain :) read 7:55pm

his heart skipped a beat. you were already there, waiting for him. great, now i’m really late, he thought, quickening his pace.

he finally spotted you sitting on the edge of the fountain, your legs crossed, hands in your lap as you looked around, casually enjoying the evening air. the sight of you, illuminated by the soft glow of the park’s streetlights, made him momentarily forget about the cheap takeout in his hand or how rushed he felt just moments ago.

“hey!” he called out as he approached, trying to keep his voice steady. you turned at the sound, your face lighting up when you saw him.

“hi, hee,” you greeted with a warm smile. his stomach did a flip at the nickname, but he played it cool, grinning back as he held up the bag of takeout.

“so, i grabbed the finest chinese food this place had to offer,” he said sarcastically, shaking the greasy bag a little. “i’m talking five-star dining right here.”

you giggled, rolling your eyes. “well, i guess i’ll just have to take your word for it.”

he plopped down beside you on the fountain ledge, setting the bag between you two. the evening breeze picked up a little, cool but refreshing after the heat of the day. the city sounds in the background faded as you both settled into a comfortable silence, the atmosphere between you casual yet warm.

heeseung handed you a pair of chopsticks, and as you opened one of the boxes, the aroma hit both of you. “okay, this doesn’t smell half bad,” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him.

“i told you,” he chuckled. “general tso—whoever he is—knows his stuff.”

as you started eating, he stole a few glances at you, feeling strangely content in this moment. it wasn’t anything fancy or over-the-top, but sitting here with you, laughing over greasy takeout in the park—it felt right. like maybe this was something he could get used to.

“thanks for grabbing dinner,” you said after a while, your voice soft. “this is nice.”

“yeah, it is,” he replied, smiling to himself. “i’m just glad you didn’t expect anything too fancy.”

“oh, please,” you rolled your eyes. “this is perfect.” you continued enjoying the warm air around you in the dark night on a dim lit park bench.

and for a moment, everything felt simple. easy. just you, him, and some less-than-great chinese food, sharing a quiet evening together. nothing complicated. just two colleagues, friends you could say enjoying a nice dinner. the tension surrounding the two of you didn’t quite scream “friends” though.

you finished chewing the last bite of food which you had fought over, before starting conversation up again.

“thank you for tonight, i really appreciate you coming out here to have dinner,” you chuckled, cleaning up the mess of napkins, plastic forks and take-out boxes.

“of course, i had a great time, too, pretty,” the nickname rolled off his tongue naturally now, and he couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips as he said it.

your cheeks warmed at the way he said it so casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world. you bit your lip, glancing down at the mess in your hands to avoid meeting his gaze for too long.

“i mean, who knew egg rolls could be so competitive,” you teased, trying to keep the mood light as you tossed the takeout boxes into the trash nearby.

heeseung chuckled, shaking his head. “you really fought for that last bite. i was impressed.” he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes still locked on you with that same amused glint.

“hey, i take food seriously,” you joked, finally looking back at him, meeting his gaze fully this time. the comfortable, playful atmosphere was still there, but something about the moment felt… different. there was a weight to the way he was looking at you now, something deeper than just casual banter.

the silence stretched for a beat too long, not awkward, but charged with something unspoken. you shifted slightly, suddenly aware of how close the two of you were sitting on the fountain’s edge.

“so,” you said, breaking the silence, “i guess i’ll see you around soon?”

“of course,” letting go of that remaining syllable with hesitancy knowing this would be the end of tonight. he wasn’t quite ready for this quiet peace to end.

you walked back to your hotel, feeling a mix of excitement and exhaustion from the day’s events. luckily, it wasn’t too far from the park where you had spent the afternoon, a short stroll that allowed you to soak in the fading light of the sunset.

as soon as you had made it back to your hotel, you kicked off your shoes and threw yourself onto the hotel bed. you had way too many thoughts in your head, and figured you could call karina, the one person you know would love to hear about your life as of now.

“y/n!! it's been so long, how is the job?” you heard her chirp from the other end with a hint of curiosity eager to hear about your new busy life away from home.

“tiring to say the least,” you responded back exasperated from the extensive work with close to no time for yourself.

“well, chin up, this is your life for the next half year,” karina encouraged your anxious self. “tell me about heeseung boy you texted me about,”

a small smile crept onto your face at the mention of his name. “he’s… well, he’s great. really friendly and easy to talk to,” you began, your excitement bubbling to the surface, biting your tongue from saying any more not wanting to confirm any potential feelings you might have.

“just friendly, huh?” karina teased back at your word choice.

“come on, you know what i mean!” you shot back, laughing despite your embarrassment. “I just don’t want to assume anything. we’re just friends, i think that’s what he wants,”

“mmkay, whatever you say,”

─── ♡

and “just friends” you were. because friends always go out of their way to sneak in secret lunches away from their managers who could yell at them for not working effectively over the days spent preparing for this next grand prix.

friends always send quick glances to each other during team briefings, or share inside jokes that leave the rest of the team confused.

friends always feel a little thrill when their names light up each other's phone screen, a small buzz of excitement you tried to ignore every time you saw a message from him.

friends always hold eye contact with others for a second longer than they should.

and of course friends always end up sitting a little too close during those late-night hangouts, where your shoulders brush just enough to send a shiver down your spine, but you pretend not to notice.

wait, are you sure this is just friends?

yet, when someone like yunjin pointed it out, you brushed it off, unwilling to admit to anything beyond the friendship label. because that’s what it was, right? just friends.

friends who found excuses to be in the same place a little more often than necessary.

so "just friends" you stayed. at least, for now.

once again heeseung was back on the track, his first love if he's being honest. he slid on his helmet with a familiar weight settling on top of his head, muffling the world around him. he took a deep breath before sliding inside the familiar seat, his hands automatically flying to the wheel.

this was his space. his escape. the one place where everything made sense. hours of practice had led up this.

he rolled up to the starting position, the low hum of his engine vibrating beneath him, steadying his pulse. next to him, yeonjun from mclaren sat in his sleek orange car, radiating confidence, a clear rivalry showing through.

heeseung watched as the red lights above flickered out—

with a deafening roar, both cars shot forward, engines screaming as they tore down the track. heeseung’s grip tightened on the wheel as he surged ahead, adrenaline flooding his veins as the car hugged the asphalt.

he had the early lead as usual, but a glance in his mirrors showed yeonjun right behind him, too close for comfort.

the first turn approached fast, and heeseung swung into it, hugging the inside line. but yeonjun wasn’t giving him any breathing room. as they exited the turn, yeonjun accelerated aggressively, pulling up beside him, refusing to back down.

the straightaway stretched out before them, and yeonjun made his move. his car edged closer, pressing against heeseung’s, forcing him to the outside of the track. heeseung’s jaw clenched as he felt his car veer dangerously toward the barriers, the scraping of metal just inches away.

he’s pushing too hard, heeseung thought, heart pounding, but there was no room to hesitate. yeonjun was relentless, using every inch of the track to his advantage, leaving heeseung little space to maneuver.

they approached the second set of turns, and yeonjun cut in hard, practically shoving heeseung toward the edge again. the walls loomed dangerously close, and heeseung had no choice but to ease off for a split second, letting yeonjun take the inside line. frustration bubbled inside him as he watched the orange car pull ahead, but he wasn’t giving up yet.

heeseung pushed the gas, catching up on the straight, and for a brief moment, they were neck-and-neck. the final turn approached—a brutal, tight corner. this was it. heeseung braked late, swinging into the turn, but yeonjun held his ground, keeping just ahead.

coming out of the turn, yeonjun’s car edged in front by mere inches. the finish line was just ahead, and heeseung floored it, pushing his car to the absolute limit. both cars rocketed toward the line, tires screeching, engines roaring.

but it wasn’t enough.

yeonjun crossed first—just barely, but it was enough to secure the win.

heeseung slowed down, pulling into the pit lane, his heart still pounding from the intensity of the race.

He was pissed. he’d rarely ever get mad, but when it came to racing, he was pissed.

“i had that shit!” heeseung yelled furiously as soon as jake came to congratulate him for the high placing despite knowing heeseung was not going to be the least bit happy.

“you still won almost every other race this season, it's okay,” jake attempted to reassure him but to no avail heeseung mumbled out a string of curse words.

you approached him slowly seeing how upset he had been over this race. he immediately picked you apart from the crowd and you watched as his face softened upon seeing you.

“you did really great, okay? i'm sure you'll win the next one,” you smiled trying to force any bit of positivity out of yourself as encouragement.

“yeah, maybe,” his tone was sharper than usual. he hadn’t meant to raise his tone, but you could immediately tell his guilt after it had slipped out.

at that moment, you watched as yeonjun stepped out of his own car holding a victorious smile, smirking at heeseung and snorting. heeseung reacted with a string of curses.

“sorry about him, he’s not the best at taking losses,” jake apologized, casting a glance in heeseung’s direction. his tone was light, but there was an understanding behind his words, as he’d seen this side of heeseung before.

then, turning his attention to you, he extended his hand with a friendly smile. “i don’t think we’ve met properly, though? jake. it’s so nice to meet you,” he said warmly, his grip firm but welcoming as you shook his hand.

“y/n, really great to meet you too,” you greeted back holding a smile, neither of you having each other’s full attention as you both watched heeseung getting whisked away by the press for photos despite his scowl.

“thank you for putting up with him for this long,” jake chuckled with a more positive tone as compared to heeseung. honestly, finally gave him your full attention looking up at the man. and you could now very much understand why karina wanted you to have this job to begin with.

“well it's my job, he's actually quite nice though,” you replied back, a silence falling upon the both of you, not the same kind of comfortable silence though.

“so, are you two…?” jake asked, his voice lowered now that heeseung was out of earshot.

you blinked, caught off guard by the question. “no, wait, yes? honestly, i’m not sure,” you admitted, surprised at how easily the truth slipped out. jake’s expression stayed neutral, not even a hint of amusement crossing his face.

“hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully like he was entertaining the idea, but not giving much away.

“what?” you asked, feeling a bit defensive under his calm gaze.

“between you and me, and i guess heeseung,” jake leaned in slightly, lowering his voice, “he definitely thinks you’re something.” smiling at your stunned expression.

jake winked before glancing over and watching heeseung walk back a little more calm, before walking off himself to do his own interview.

“what’d that loser say?” heeseung asked, his voice full of concern. more specifically that jake would try something, although it wasn’t quite his character to.

“oh, um. nothing, i can't hear all too well in this crowd,” lie.

heeseung raised an eyebrow, clearly not fully convinced but choosing not to press further. “okay,” he responded simply, his tone light, though there was a hint of suspicion in his eyes.

he let it go for now, shifting his attention back to the crowd around them, but the moment hung in the air, leaving you feeling like he might not buy your excuse.

to you though, you were still processing this little bit of information, but little did jake know this would be keeping you up in the dead of the night reevaluating all interactions. maybe you weren’t just friends.

─── ♡

heeseung told himself he wouldn’t let that small interaction bug him, but it did more often than he would like to. every small little thing reminded him of you. what did jake tell you that was so secret you couldn't tell him?

heeseung found himself replaying the moment over and over in his head. maybe it was nothing, maybe you were just being polite, but that little spark of doubt wouldn’t leave. it gnawed at him, making him question things he hadn’t even thought about before.

had he been too quick to assume you were not just friends? maybe you were less than friends itself.

maybe it was the way you’d smiled at jake. friendly, yes, but something in it made him wonder if there was more. what if you were talking behind his back? what if he didn’t know you as well as he thought?

he shook his head, trying to push the thoughts away. it’s nothing, he told himself. she wouldn’t do that.

but what if? what if there was more between you and jake, something he wasn’t a part of? something he didn’t know about?

the more he thought about it, the more irrational it all seemed, but the seed of doubt had already been planted. and it was growing.

work had piled on thicker and thicker, like heavy snowfall, leaving almost no time for yourself or even him. wait, why were you thinking of him at this time?

you didn’t come here to get a boyfriend; you came here for work.

work to fulfill your passion and get ahead in your career.

gain new experiences.

heeseung was a new experience, that much was true. but now, after everything that had happened, you couldn't help but wonder if maybe jake was wrong.

every time you greeted him in meetings or simply passed him in the hallways, his response was distant—almost colder than before. and it hurt more than you’d like to admit, especially because he’d been so warm when it was just the two of you.

had he changed his mind about you? was it all just a casual fling, or was he simply not interested anymore?

you couldn't help but think back to that conversation with jake. "he definitely thinks you're something." had jake been mistaken? had you read everything wrong? or was it possible that heeseung never really felt that way in the first place?

the doubts gnawed at you. you wished you could ask him, but you couldn't bring yourself to. maybe because you were afraid of hearing the truth. or maybe because you didn’t want to risk pushing him further away.

you found yourself constantly second-guessing every interaction with him now, analyzing every look, every word. was he just being polite? or was there something more?

maybe jake was wrong, you thought, but deep down, you knew you were hoping he wasn’t. because, if he was, that meant you were just… nothing. a distraction. someone who got in the way of his real focus.

the thought stung, but you pushed it down. you couldn’t afford to think like that.

“hey girl, are you doing okay?” yunjin asked you, snapping you out of your thought trance. while you were usually sharp and always open to talking, these days you seemed to be very lost in thought while working.

“i don't know, there's too many thoughts going through my head,” you mumbled out as a response. you didn't want to dump your emotions on a poor colleague but she seemed so inviting and open to talk to despite your doubt.

“listen girl, if it were me, nothing beats drowning those thoughts out with alcohol, every once in a while,” yunjin chuckled, presenting a new door to you. you shook your head, getting wasted didn’t sound the most “fun” to you personally.

“okay, well just hear me out. a couple of the drivers and their staff are going out to a club for a change of pace, it’ll be a great networking opportunity and a great distraction, you should come,” yunjin persuaded, urging you.

she paused, raising an eyebrow as if to drive her point home, then added with a mock sigh, "plus, i don't want to deal with beomgyu alone. you know how he gets it."

you glanced at her, feeling the weight of the long days and constant demands pressing down on you. the thought of letting loose, even just for a few hours, was tempting. the last few weeks have been all work, no play. no room for any of the things you used to enjoy—no time to relax, or… think.

"you know, it's been a while since i've gone out," you said, your voice soft, almost uncertain. you didn’t know if it was the exhaustion or the constant racing thoughts, but the idea of spending a night away from all this chaos sounded like something you could use.

yunjin caught the shift in your tone and grinned wider. “exactly! we could use a break. plus, who knows? you might meet someone interesting. networking, remember?" she winked, a playful glint in her eyes.

you chuckled at the thought, but your mind was still stuck on heeseung. had he really been that distant lately?

you shook your head slightly, trying to shake off the thought. maybe this night out could be just what you needed to stop overthinking things.

"alright, alright," you sighed, giving in. "i’ll go. but only because you begged me."

yunjin beamed, her eyes lighting up with a victorious gleam. "perfect! let's get ready then. it's going to be fun, you'll see."

as you both started to make plans, a small part of you wondered if a night out would really be enough to clear your head. but for now, the idea of getting away, even just for a little bit, was a welcome relief.

later that night you slipped on whatever cheap thrifted dress you could find at the nearby store and waited for yunjin and beomgyu outside the club.

“she actually showed up, told you. $20 bucks now,” yunjin demanded, extending an open hand to beomgyu, waving to you with the other, to which beomgyu grumbled and pulled out his wallet.

as you stepped in, the thick crowd greeted you—a sea of bodies moving to the rhythm, lights strobing in every direction, and laughter mingling with the music. the noise seemed to swallow everything, every thought, every worry. it was almost too much.

but you were here now, caught in the whirlwind of it all, with beomgyu and yunjin leading the way through the crowd.

"let’s grab drinks first!" yunjin shouted above the music, making her way to the bar without even waiting for a reply. beomgyu followed closely, his eyes scanning the area as he pushed through people.

you glanced around, your mind still buzzing, but you couldn't shake the sense that even in this chaotic, loud atmosphere, your thoughts would still drift back to the same place—the one you’d been trying to forget.

“hi there, what can i get started on your tab?”

“something light, maybe fruity, i don't really drink,” you yelled over the loud music which swallowed up your voice whole, the bartender nodding as a response.

“make it two! put it on my tab,” an unfamiliar voice called out behind you, as you turned around to thank the patron you were taken aback.

choi yeonjun?

"uh… thank you?" you said cautiously, unsure how to react. your confusion must have shown because his smile widened, but it seemed to lack the usual competitive edge you'd seen from him before.

"of course, beautiful," he said, his voice smooth and calm, a stark contrast to the chaotic atmosphere around you. "come sit with me?".

your mind was racing. why was he here? you barely knew him outside of the competition, and even then, heeseung had never seemed to hold a conversation with him that lasted more than a few words, usually being some string of “hes an asshole”, or “he needs to fuck off,”

you glanced around for a second—yunjin was too far off, lost in conversation with beomgyu. the booth in front of you seemed too quiet, too intimate for the tension that lingered between the two of you.

“uh, sure,” you said, hesitating. despite the oddness of the situation, you found yourself following him as he led the way to a secluded booth in the back, away from the crowded dance floor.

as you sat down, the silence settled between you, but it wasn't uncomfortable. more like… expectant. you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this than just a friendly offer for a drink.

"so," yeonjun began, his voice surprisingly calm, "fancy seeing you here. not exactly where i’d expect to run into someone from the pit crew."

you raised an eyebrow, still trying to wrap your head around why he was talking to you at all. "yeah, not really where i expected to see you either," you replied, unable to hide the confusion in your tone.

yeonjun’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he leaned back in his seat, seemingly unfazed by the strange situation. "well, considering the rivalry, i guess we’re both out of our element, huh?"

it was a strange thing to say, and the silence stretched between you. you had no idea how to respond to that. after all, the only thing you'd ever known about him was how heeseung spoke of him—a rival. someone who pushed him, someone who made things harder.

but here he was, calm and collected, sitting in front of you, offering drinks like nothing was out of place.

you couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to this than just a friendly chat. and something about it irked you.

“yeah i guess,” you replied dryly.

heeseung would love to be anywhere but here. preferably in your presence, but he was still uncertain and doubtful of you. even more so when he sees choi fucking yeonjun chatting you up and giggling over any little thing you say.

filled with a new kind of anger, he threw back any remaining alcohol in his glass as he stood up from his seat.

“hey wait, you shouldn’t stand up so fast. you just threw back one of their strongest, calm down,” jake makes an attempt to pull heeseung down by the cuff of his leather jacket.

heeseung rips his arm away preparing for confrontation; to yell at yeonjun. afterall he had some residual pent up rage from earlier.

"why the fuck are you talking to y/n?" he shouted, his voice rising above the throbbing beat of the music, sharp and aggressive. every muscle in his body was coiled tight, ready for confrontation.

you, yourself were taken aback, more so than yeonjun was.

yeonjun didn’t flinch, his expression calm, almost amused as he leaned back in his seat. he was still too comfortable, too unbothered. "what?" he shouted over the music, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "i can talk to whoever i want. why the hell does it concern you?"

"because it does concern me!" heeseung growled, taking a step forward. his voice was low, almost dangerous now, as the tension between the two men thickened like smoke. "she's not some random girl for you to flirt with, yeonjun."

yeonjun raised an eyebrow, his smirk only growing wider. "flirt?" he repeated, his voice dripping with mock amusement. "you think i was flirting with her?"

"you're always so dramatic, heeseung," he said, his tone almost playful now. "maybe you're more worried than you'd like to admit."

you could see it in his eyes, that challenge. and now you couldn't help but wonder what was really going on between these two, or why heeseung's sudden rage was so deep-seated.

yeonjun laughed, the sound harsh and bitter, like it was meant to get under heeseung’s skin. "you’ve got some serious issues if you think i'm only talking to her to get to you," he replied, leaning back into his chair, unaffected by the tension.

"you’re still acting like this is just some game, aren’t you?" heeseung growled, stepping forward until he was almost in yeonjun’s face. "you think you can just waltz in here, throw a few compliments, and toy with her heart?"

yeonjun’s eyes flickered with amusement, but his smirk was sharp, venom filled. "so? what’s it to you?" he taunted, his voice low and challenging. "you like her or something?"

"it’s none of your business," heeseung spat, but even he could hear the edge of doubt in his own voice.

"why are you so mad?" yeonjun cut him off, an eyebrow raised in mock curiosity. "because i talked to her? or because you’re scared she’s actually interested in me?"

heeseung’s chest heaved with every breath, his mind racing. "don’t play with her, yeonjun," he growled, voice low and dangerous. "she’s not a prize for you to win. she’s not a game."

"so you do like her," yeonjun said, his smirk widening. "funny, because you’re still acting like you’re scared to admit it. pussy. you do like her.”

heeseung felt the heat rise to his cheeks, his frustration and confusion colliding into a mess of tangled emotions. "no," he said, voice coming out sharper than he meant. "she just deserves better than you, that's all."

as soon as the words escaped his lips, his entire body froze. no. he hadn’t meant to say it like that. he hadn’t meant to say no.

heeseung felt his stomach drop as your eyes widened, brows knitting together in surprise. the confusion on your face mirrored his own. he wanted to take the words back. wanted to grab them out of the air before they settled between you like a thick, suffocating fog.

no. he just said no.

you just wished the ground would swallow you whole as your throat constricted and your mouth went dry.

he took a step back, swallowing hard, his hands fidgeting. "y/n—" he started, but his voice was swallowed by the music, drowned out by the chaos around them.

you shook your head, a look of uncertainty clouding your expression. "no, I—" you started, but you couldn’t find the right words either. you were as lost in this conversation as he was.

you stood off, running towards the exit praying you could make it back to your hotel without embarrassing yourself any further. you heard heeseung's footsteps run to catch up with you, pulling you back by your sweater.

you stared at him for a long moment, unsure of what to say. and then, after what felt like an eternity, you spoke. "you didn’t mean that, right?"

heeseung’s heart dropped. "no," he muttered, shaking his head desperately. "I didn’t mean it like that. I—"

but the words felt hollow, meaningless now. the damage had been done.

“heeseung, you don't get it do you? you don't just get to lead me on, call me pretty, bring takeout whenever i don't have it in me to get my own food, all for you to say no. fuck off,” you confront to his face. he looks like he wants to say more, but it's no longer about defending himself.

he fucked up.

“oh no, looks like she’ll need someone to comfort her, how about you sit this one out hm?” yeonjun mocked back giving a fake pout, running up to her to escort her out.

heeseung couldn’t meet your eyes as you looked back a final time for anything you could tell from his face. he was afraid of what he might see. afraid you’d realize the truth, the mess he had made out of everything.

yunjin quickly took notice and rushed outside to check on you, sending yeonjun back to the club to chat up whatever other girls there were.

she found you sitting on the low wall outside the club, your arms wrapped around yourself as you stared into the night. the cool breeze did nothing to calm the tension in your chest.

“y/n, you good?” she asked, crouching down beside you.

you didn’t look up. “yeah. just… a lot, i guess.”

yunjin let out a sigh, her expression softening. “you sure? yeonjun can be a little… much.”

“it’s not him,” you mumbled, shaking your head. “it’s… everything else. heeseung, and the way things are getting weird between us.”

yunjin was quiet for a beat, processing your words, she had a lot of questions going on in her mind, but right now all you needed was comfort. “weird? in what way?”

“like… i don’t even know. i’m starting to think i might be imagining it all,” you admitted, your voice low and uncertain.

she tilted her head, thinking. “you’re not imagining it. there’s something between you two. but maybe… he’s just scared of it too. or he doesn’t know how to handle it.”

you looked at her, frustration laced with confusion. "what if i'm the only one who feels it?"

“then let him catch up,” yunjin said, giving your shoulder a small squeeze. “he’ll figure it out eventually. if he’s smart.”

you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh.

he had no idea how to fix this.he wasn’t even sure if it was possible at this point.

─── ♡

the next race approached slower than ever and heeseung was nowhere in the right mindset for this race. he considered telling his manager he wasn't fit, but he couldn't succumb to what yeonjun would want him to do.

everything was slipping through his fingers—his focus, his drive, his very reason for being here, but most importantly you.

he hasn't seen you any more than once after you had walked out of the club with tears streaming down your face. all he heard was you were moved to jake’s pit crew for the time being.

his motivation was lower than ever

he stared at the car in front of him, but it felt like he was looking through it, not at it. every tool, every dial, every piece of equipment that should have been familiar, had suddenly become a reminder of everything he felt like he was losing. and it wasn’t just the race. it was you. it was him—yeonjun.

"heeseung, you’re not fit to race today, are you?" his manager asked, his voice slicing through the thick fog of his thoughts. "you look off. need to talk about it?"

he couldn’t fall apart. not like this. but the weight of it all was suffocating. the thought of telling his manager he wasn’t fit to race seemed like the easy way out. and yeonjun would love that, wouldn’t he? he'd love to see him crumble. love to see him give in, admit defeat.

no. he couldn’t.

but damn it, he was tired. his heart felt like it was being pulled in too many directions, each one pulling him further away from where he needed to be.

he couldn’t quit.

he wouldn’t quit.

but why did it feel like he was already losing?

"you good?" his manager asked again, his voice softer now, seeing the frustration in his expression.

heeseung nodded, forcing a smile, but it was thin. fragile. "yeah, just… a little tired."

he rolled up to the starting position once again, surprised at how he even made it through qualifiers with this low motivation.

the race started, but it felt like heeseung wasn’t really there. as the lights went out, the cars roared to life, but his mind was a million miles away. the engine roared, but his thoughts drowned it out.

he took off in the pack, but he felt sluggish, disconnected. his hands gripped the steering wheel, but it was like they were moving on their own, not in sync with his racing instincts. he knew he should have been focusing on the track, on the turns, but instead, his mind kept circling back to everything but the race.

yeonjun. the argument. you. the way things had changed.

heeseung felt the weight of it all settle into his chest. every corner seemed a little sharper, every move a little slower. his car didn’t feel right. or maybe it was just him. maybe he wasn’t right.

it didn’t take long for yeonjun to slip past him, and that just made it worse. heeseung clenched his jaw, but instead of retaliating, he just let his car drift further behind. the familiar rush of competition wasn’t there. it felt more like a slow-motion crash waiting to happen.

every lap was torture. he could hear the radio buzzing in his ear, but it sounded like static. his mind was a jumble of thoughts, and none of them were about racing.

by the halfway point, heeseung was already at the back of the pack.

he wasn’t focused. he wasn’t present. and it hurt to admit it, but deep down, he knew he wasn’t giving it his all.

“annnnd yeonjun wins yet another grand prix,” “heeseung is really off his game today” “yeonjun really is better, you were right,”

the comments from the crowd, press, and fans were eating him alive, more so than being away from you.

back at the hotel, heeseung thinks back to what everyone’s been telling him earlier. you were only in for one season.he only had til the end of the season to pull something off.

he was determined to win you back before the season ended and you went back home to where he might not ever see you again. he only had 167 days, but he was determined to race for your heart, and win you back.

─── ♡

you glanced down at the engine in front of you, the pieces more familiar than they used to be. the way everything clicked together, the hum of the motor, the fine-tuned adjustments—it was all starting to make sense now.

working on jake’s car felt different, though. not in a bad way, just… different. you caught yourself missing the way heeseung’s car seemed to fit you. the precision with which you had become familiar with it—the way you almost felt like you could predict its needs without thinking.

but today, with jake’s car, you were making small mistakes. not big ones, but enough to frustrate you. the adjustments didn’t come as easily, the instinct wasn’t there like it was with heeseung’s.

and there it was again—another thing that reminded you of him.

you couldn't shake it. everything came back to him—whether it was the car, the track, or just the way he used to talk to you like he didn’t need to say everything. like you just knew what he was thinking.

you sighed, wiping your hands on the rag and trying to refocus. no, it wasn’t about him. it couldn’t be. you were here to work, to get better.

it started with roses being delivered to your hotel room. sure they wouldn’t last due to your busy schedule and your poor ability to take care of flowers, but it was the thought that counts.

your phone buzzed and you dreadingly opened it to find a text from him. your heart sank, ashamed at the way it still beat a little faster when seeing his name.

heeseung: hope we can talk sometime, enjoy the flowers. don’t feel pressured to respond or anything. read 6:42 am.

you sighed and closed your phone. at least he kept in mind that you wouldn't want to reply.

over the next few weeks, things fell into a strange rhythm. races continued, engines roared, and the work never stopped. but there was an undeniable difference in the air—like the world was quieter somehow.

the excitement of the grand prixs, once a rush of adrenaline and passion, felt more distant now, less meaningful without the comfort of the familiar faces you once shared them with.

you found yourself in cities you once dreamed of visiting, but this time they felt a little less magical. belgium, with its food you could feast on from the eyes only, no longer held its allure.

a part of you was wishing you could go back to the times when everything felt like an adventure—when heeseung would call to ask if you wanted to grab a drink or wander the streets after a long day.

but now, there was an empty space where that spark used to be. you were still going through the motions—working with jake, troubleshooting engine issues, spending your days in the pit—but your mind always drifted back to him.

the quiet messages that arrived every so often did little to ease the weight on your chest. they felt like an attempt to reconnect, but they never fully erased the hurt.

in the netherlands, you received another delivery—this time, a box of sweets with a note that simply said “thinking of you”. you hadn’t responded to the previous messages, but heeseung’s attempts were constant. his name still lit up your phone, and every time you saw it, there was a flutter in your chest, though you hated how easily it pulled you in.

at the next grand prix in austria, you saw him briefly. he was standing by his car, talking to the crew, his jaw clenched in concentration. when his eyes landed on you, there was a moment—just a second—where everything seemed to stop.

but before you could look away, heeseung turned back to his car, his shoulders tense, and you knew that talking wouldn’t be easy. you didn’t even know if he was ready to face you yet.

so, you didn’t approach him.

you told yourself it was better that way.

the text messages continued, though. a late-night text about the race in belgium. a message wishing he could see you before the dutch grand prix. small gestures that, at their core, were attempts to remind you that he was still there, still thinking of you. but they were hollow to you.

you hadn’t responded to a single one. the last time you had heard his voice had been that awkward conversation after the club in barcelona, and things hadn’t gotten better since then.

still, the flowers kept coming—different varieties, different colors. sometimes roses, sometimes peonies. each one a reminder of the distance between you two. each one a reminder of what had changed.

in germany, during a pause between practice rounds, jake leaned over, handing you a cup of coffee. “you gonna talk to him anytime soon?” he asked, glancing over at heeseung, who was deep in conversation with his team.

you sighed, taking a sip of the coffee and looking down at the pit floor. “not yet.”

“you know he’s trying, right?”

you didn’t answer. because, honestly, you weren’t sure. maybe heeseung was trying. maybe the roses, the texts, the little gestures meant something. but the hurt from the way things ended was still too fresh, and you weren’t sure if you could get over it.

the next grand prix was in italy, and as the days passed, you kept your distance, both physically and emotionally. the tension between you and heeseung was unspoken but ever-present.

he would look over at you from time to time, his gaze lingering for just a second before he turned away. you hated how much it hurt to see him. you hated how much you wanted things to go back to the way they were, but you couldn’t ignore the walls that had been built between you two.

you began to doubt if heeseung even knew how to fix things. and maybe that was the hardest part. you were waiting for him to make the right move, but the longer you waited, the more you wondered if he would ever really try.

─── ♡

you weren’t sure how much more you could take. burying yourself in work hadn’t helped, but at least it kept your mind busy.

the constant races and late nights in the garage were wearing you down. the machines felt familiar, but the work felt hollow now.

your phone buzzed constantly with notifications you didn’t want to see. and yet, when you saw his name, your heart betrayed you every time.

the roses had been a small gesture, but it didn’t make you feel better. they were just another reminder of how things had fallen apart.

you closed your phone with a sigh. you didn’t want to talk, but you weren’t sure if you were ready to cut him off completely.

after a long summer, the weight of everything seemed unbearable. a messy explanation to your boss, and you were on a plane home. you needed to be away from everything to do with lee heeseung.

home felt like a strange comfort, a place where everything was still. the noise of work and racing faded as soon as you stepped through the door.

you needed the space to breathe, but even here, heeseung lingered in the back of your mind.

the familiarity of home was soothing, but it also reminded you how far you’d drifted from everything.

you couldn’t shake the feeling that things were left unresolved. no matter how much time passed, the questions still remained.

the first thing you did of course? tell karina everything. your one safe lifeline who had been there through your ups and downs and unfortunately had to see you through another one of your downs and it hurt for her to see as much as it hurt for you to experience yourself.

you two sat on the couch, the familiar weight of the silence between you, before you spoke up.

"i don't even know where to start," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

karina glanced at you, her brow furrowed in concern. "you don't have to start anywhere. just tell me what happened."

you let out a shaky breath, feeling the pressure rise in your chest. "it’s heeseung, karina. i thought… i thought it was something real. but now i’m just… i don’t know what we even are anymore."

karina's hand rested on yours. "what do you mean? what happened?"

you felt the flood of emotions, the frustration, the hurt, all pouring out. "he keeps sending these messages, these little gestures like nothing’s changed, but everything’s changed, and i don’t know if i can just go back to how things were." you managed to hiccup out tears, your nose stinging trying to hold back tears.

karina’s expression softened. “you deserve more than that, y/n. if he’s not being clear with you, then maybe it’s time you start focusing on what’s best for you, not waiting around for him to figure it out.”

you sighed, wiping at your eyes. "i know, i just… i don’t want to give up on him, i need a sign, i'm so confused,”

“i'm here for you, okay?"

you nodded, feeling a small sense of relief in her comfort.

it was then you heard a knock on the door of your apartment, the two of you looking confused.

“did you order food?” she asked curiously trying to put the pieces together of why there was a door knock. you shake your head and watch as she gets up from the couch to see who it is.

you peer around the corner hoping to get a look at who it might be, but your ears find out sooner than your eyes.

“JAKE FUCKING SIM?” you heard karina shout. you stand up quickly rushing to the door to see for yourself, and there he is, in the flesh at your apartment door.

“jake? what are you doing here?” you asked stunned to why your boss (in a way) is here and not in italy preparing for the races ahead.

“we got wind from yunjin and beomgyu you went back, and he wanted to see you. he’s at some park he said was nearby,” he states matter of factly, annoyed that his best friend made him come along to sort out his girl issues.

“oh. okay.” well now there was really no avoiding it. he had flown all the way back to talk to you, and in a way made your heart pound a little faster knowing he had done all of that.

karina was still in shock at seeing her celebrity crush standing right at your doorstep, her mouth agape. this sparked an idea, and you were more than thankful for karina being there for you.

“jake, this is your first time here in this city, no? karina why don't you show him around town?” you suggest, watching karina turn pink and giggle, jake seeming non opposed to it.

karina dropped you off at the closest park you could think of, you weren't quite ready enough to text him and ask where, but lo and behold there he was. nervously waiting, bouncing his leg anxiously to see if you would even show up.

he looks up from his phone and immediately shoves it in his pocket, his full attention on you.

“hey,” you greeted, trying to keep the tension out of your voice as you approached the bench.

heeseung looked up, his eyes flicking over your face with a mix of uncertainty and hope. “hey,” he replied, his voice low but soft. “thanks for meeting me.”

“i didn’t think you’d want to see me,” he murmured, looking at his hands.

you shook your head. “it’s not about wanting or not wanting, heeseung. it’s about sorting things out.”

“i’m sorry, y/n,” heeseung said after a long pause. his voice was low, almost pained. “i’ve been… i’ve been a mess, and i need to apologize for how i acted.”

“i… i fucked up,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “when i said… when i said no that day, i didn’t mean it. i didn’t mean it at all.”

your heart skipped a beat. the memory of that day, when heeseung had said no—when you had thought it was over, when everything had crumbled around you—came rushing back. you had been confused, hurt, feeling like you’d been cast aside, and all the emotions you had pushed aside came flooding back in that moment.

“what do you mean ‘you didn’t mean it’?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

heeseung ran a hand through his hair, frustration and guilt clear in his expression. “i… i was scared. scared of how much i felt for you. scared of how real everything was getting, i got scared of yeonjun, honestly, i didn't want to admit it in front of him of all times, and i wanted it to be special,”

“because you are special, it wasn’t a no because i didn’t care. it was a no because i was too scared to say what i really felt. but i’m here now. i’m not running away this time, and i'm going to do it right,” he continued on trying to compose himself and complete his sentences.

“i was scared when you and jake were talking that day in canada, scared of what you might've said after i lost, and i know it's silly-”

“i wasn’t being honest either,” you continued, the weight of your words settling between you. “jake told me… he said you saw us going somewhere beyond just 'friends'.” you paused, swallowing hard. “and that scared me.”

you glanced at him briefly, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly as you let out a shaky breath. your heart raced, but you forced yourself to keep going.

“i'm sorry for just running and never letting you explain yourself. i was too selfish in not wanting myself to get hurt, i never heard you out,” you sniffle out. the air surrounding the two of you is raw and full of emotion, but it's what's needed.

"we can try again," he said softly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "if you're willing. no more running."

you bit your lip, holding back a small, relieved laugh as your heart swelled. "yeah," you said, nodding. "no more running."

heeseung leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a softer, more intimate tone. "i’m sorry for all of it. for not being honest with you sooner. for not being there when you needed me."

you shook your head, a smile breaking through. "i’m sorry too," you whispered, finally feeling the weight of it all lift. "for not trusting you."

there was a long pause before you both let out a breath, as if some invisible weight had been lifted. the park bench beneath you both felt like a safe place, a starting point for whatever was coming next.

you both had been through your fair share of confusion and misunderstandings, but now, as the conversation unraveled, it felt like the beginning of something new.

heeseung reached for the takeout bag beside him and handed it to you with a small smile. "i know it’s not five-star, but… i thought it might be fitting," he said with a slight laugh. "our first dinner together."

you couldn’t help but laugh, your heart warming at the gesture. "you remembered," you teased, taking the bag from him.

"of course i did," he said softly, his eyes lingering on yours.

for the first time in a while, the tension between you melted, leaving a sense of calm in its place. the night was still young, but now it didn’t feel like it was filled with uncertainty.

─── ♡

things were finally back in motion, and the atmosphere had shifted. the team seemed lighter, more energized with each race. heeseung had you by his side, his lucky charm, and it felt like everything was falling into place again.

after a push from jake, the managers agreed to reassign you back to heeseung’s pit crew, and you couldn’t be happier. the excitement of working with him again was undeniable, and heeseung’s spirit's seemed higher every time you were in the garage together.

the long summer had passed, and heeseung had found his rhythm again. he was more confident, his focus sharper, and you couldn’t help but smile at how much he’d grown. it wasn’t just work; you two were becoming closer outside of the races, too.

fall had come and gone, and the competition had never been fiercer. heeseung and yeonjun were neck-and-neck, trading wins as if they were competitors in a never-ending battle. mclaren and ferrari, back and forth, each race felt like the next turning point.

as the final race approached, the excitement in the air was electric. everyone was asking the same question—who would come out on top? the reigning champion, lee heeseung, or the new rising star, choi yeonjun?

you could feel the pressure building. heeseung was more focused than ever, his energy a blend of intensity and determination. the weight of the championship was heavy on both drivers, but you could tell heeseung was ready.

“we’ve got this,” heeseung said, glancing over at you. the quiet confidence in his voice gave you the reassurance you needed.

you nodded, giving him a small smile. “just like always.”

the race started, and the tension was palpable. every turn, every lap, it felt like the world was holding its breath. yeonjun was a fierce competitor, but you could see how well heeseung was handling the pressure.

the final laps approached, and the two drivers were locked in a battle for the lead. you watched, heart pounding, as they fought to the finish line.

it all came down to this. one final push for the championship, and it was anyone’s game.

your stomach dropped. you couldn’t hear the roar of the crowd, couldn’t see the final push, but you could feel it in your chest, as if the very air around you was holding its breath.

and then, in one seamless motion, heeseung swerved into the inside line. he was gaining, inching closer to yeonjun. the tension was unbearable, every second dragging on forever.

with the finish line just a few meters away, heeseung’s car crossed it, just barely ahead of yeonjun’s.

“LEE HEESEUNG CROSSES THE LINE 0.479 SECONDS AHEAD OF CHOI YEONJUN MAKING HIM YOUR 2024 FORMULA ONE WORLD CHAMPION!”

heeseung quickly and eagerly comes to a stop and gets out of the car with a wide grin on his face as yeonjun holds a bitter scowl.

as yeonjun passes by to get water he mutters foul words to heeseung but he could care less as his full attention is on you, who he sees running towards him, jumping for a hug.

“you did it hee! i'm so proud of you, you deserve it the most!” you shout with glee.

heeseung grinned, his eyes sparkling with exhaustion and relief as he pulled you into a tight embrace. the weight of the world seemed to lift off his shoulders, and in that moment, everything felt perfect.

“thank you, pretty,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the noise of the pit. "you’ve been with me through it all."

you pulled back slightly, your hands still resting on his shoulders, searching his face. the adrenaline from the race still buzzed between you, but now, it was just the two of you, standing in the middle of all the chaos, sharing something far more intimate.

“i mean it, hee. you worked so hard for this, and you earned every single bit of it,” you said, your words filled with genuine admiration.

heeseung’s smile faltered just for a moment, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. "i couldn’t have done it without you." his voice was soft, but there was an intensity behind it that made your heart skip a beat.

“i’ve been meaning to ask though, be my girlfriend? i don't think i can deal with this no label ‘friendship’” he smiles cupping your face grinning up at you. he already knows the answer.

“of course,” you smile with pride

your eyes locked, and for a second, it felt like time stood still. the world around you faded into the background. it wasn’t about the race anymore, not about the trophy, but about the two of you standing there, sharing a moment you both desperately needed.

heeseung leaned in slightly, his face inches from yours. the air between you felt charged with something unspoken, and the weight of everything that had built up between you finally settled.

you didn’t pull away. instead, you let yourself be enveloped by the warmth of his presence, the comfort of knowing you were both here, together, after everything.

you felt his lips press onto yours, gentle yet electrifying, as if the world around you had disappeared. everything was quiet except for the soft hum of the celebration in the distance.

it was brief, but it felt like everything you’d been holding back for so long was finally let go. when he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, and for the first time in a long time, there was peace between you.

“you’re not alone in this,” you murmured softly, your voice just above a whisper.

heeseung’s expression softened even more, his hand still resting on your cheek, his thumb brushing across your skin. “i know,” he breathed out, his lips barely touching yours.

it was a moment, a simple one, but one that felt like everything was finally falling into place.

─── ♡

that night the two of you went out for your signature couple meal, shitty chinese take out, enjoying it in the trunk of his car on the beach underneath the stars above you.

the night air was cool, but the warmth between you two kept everything just right. after the chaos of the race, you found solace in the simple act of being together, eating takeout in the back of his car as the waves lapped gently against the shore.

"this feels perfect," you said, leaning back against the car, taking in the quiet beauty of the night.

heeseung smiled, glancing at you from across the small space, his fingers absentmindedly toying with a fry. "yeah, it does. just… us."

the stars above glittered, a silent reminder of how far you'd come since the beginning. no more confusion, no more running away. just the two of you, figuring it out together, one race at a time.

"we should do this more often," you murmured, your voice soft but content.

"definitely," he agreed, his hand finding yours and giving it a gentle squeeze.

as the last eggroll was eaten and the takeout box was tossed aside, you both leaned back and stared up at the sky. there was no need for words now, no more doubts. just the sound of the ocean, the warmth of the night, and the certainty that whatever came next, you'd face it together.

─── ♡

a/n: im surprised i managed to write this much, halfway through writing this i was searching up the name and apparently someone on wattpad wrote a racer fic with the same name, AND starring heeseung. swear i was not copying, on skibidi ☝️. THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH to @hyuukais for beta reading this fic in its monstrosity. anyways hope you guys enjoy the fic cause im sick n tired of being sick n tired if writing this fic ><

#grp: enhypen #mem: heeseung #artist: coqhee #genre: fluff #genre: angst #wc: >1k #warnings: pet names #warnings: language #warnings: alcohol #warnings: kissing #kl: releases

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steviewashere · 6 months ago

Text

Birthday Blues

Rating: Teen and Up Pairing: Steve Harrington & Steve Harrington's Parents, Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson CW: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Emotional Abuse, Brief Mention of Child Abuse, Brief Mention of Financial Abuse, Brief Mention of Secondary Original Character Death Tags: Post-Canon, Post Vecna, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Steve Harrington Has a Stepdad, Steve Harrington Has a Good Mom, Steve Harrington's Father Being an Asshole, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Emotional Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington's Mom is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington's Birthday, Steve Harrington is Loved, Cuddling & Snuggling, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Hopeful Ending, Bittersweet Ending

Based on my own experience with my stepdad and uh...yeah, that's it, basically. Be kind, I guess? 🤷‍♂️

Also on Ao3 because this shit is long.

🫂————————🫂 He thought his twentieth birthday would come with more fanfare. Maybe not the whole calvary. But something simple. A cake, maybe. A card, possibly. Even just a simple “Happy Birthday.” That would’ve sufficed.

And the problem isn’t with his friends. No. They’ve sent him messages over the walkie since the clock hit midnight on June 29th. Made plans for the next few days. Promised birthday gifts tonight. He wondered if everything was supposed to be a surprise: the gifts and cake and plans. But Robin had already reached out, promised him that she already spoke with everybody, made sure to tell them how he doesn’t like surprises; not after Vecna, not after his ankle had been grabbed.

The issue is with his mom’s boyfriend. His ‘stepdad.’

Nobody really knows much about him. Not really. Nothing above: “He’s an asshole. I don't like him.” Which is…a way to make an impression. But he doesn’t really enjoy talking about him.

The boyfriend came into the picture when Steve was seven. When he was naive and confused about the world around him. When he was used to it just being him and his mom for a while. His birth dad had passed on really young—nothing that could’ve been prevented, but it wasn’t any sort of accident, and Steve doesn’t like talking about it; so he just doesn’t. But the boyfriend came along after so much nothing. After a life half-lived.

He was kind, at first. Interested. Capable. Made Steve’s mom happy. Took her out for dates—which left Steve with a babysitter; then on his lonesome when he turned thirteen—he bought her things, promised the moon, was at her beck and call. He even cared about Steve. Introduced him to the world of Spiderman comic books and baseball games and driving with the windows down. Had been there for home baseball games, Steve’s first piano recital, and for the first handful of birthday parties. He helped, when there was nothing. He helped, even when they had everything.

Then came the alcohol.

Steve remembers it clear as day. The vacation they all took together. They’d taken a plane from Indianapolis to Seattle. And it was sort of cool, Steve figured. The hotel with the indoor pool and the double-wide beds and the really nice view over the tops of tall apartment buildings. It was the first of many trips; one of the last Steve went on. What came with the nice hotel, though, was a bar and grill down at the lobby.

And sure, it was a time for celebration. Of sorts. They were heading out for Disneyland, Steve had been wide awake since the night before, his mom had bought them matching shirts so that nobody got lost. It was ideal, fun, what say you. But then the boyfriend came upstairs, a cup of something sticky in his hand, and a glaze to his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“We’re celebrating,” he had slurred, “it’s alright, just for the night. Let’s have some fun.”

It didn’t stop there, though. Steve hadn’t known why at first. But then came the arguments over the next couple months after that decision. When the recycling bin was full of more beer bottles than empty containers of yogurt. When Richard was slurring his words earlier and earlier in the evening. When he’d sleep a good amount of the day, try and right himself from work, barely talk to anybody when he came back, and already had a bottle in hand by the time conversations started. The arguments were unrelenting, though. He could hear them through the floor of his bedroom: “Laura!”, “Richard.”. A few tense moments would pass after Laura, Steve’s mom, would say that name. Steve would leave his bed, in all the right spaces to make sure it didn’t creak, and settle himself by his bedroom door—where he could open it a crack just to hear, just to know, in case something happened and he had to go down there. Then, she’d speak again. Quiet and wet and calm, “I wish you would stop. If not for me, do it for Steven.”

Steve would hold his breath. Waiting. His mom never called him that, not unless he was in trouble, not unless she was serious. And his stomach turned at the thought of it. She’d call him Stevie otherwise, all soft and sweet and soaking—akin to the sugary butter at the bottom of a freshly made cinnamon roll. He liked that. He loved her. He loved Richard, despite all of this.

Until, finally, Richard spoke. “Is that supposed to make me care?” He questioned with ire. “He isn’t mine,” he eventually spat. And then he stormed to their bedroom—downstairs on the first floor, just off of the living room—slammed the door.

His mom wept that night, Steve could relay if asked. And he had been too tied up in his own awful sadness to go downstairs and comfort her. It wasn’t the last time. Wasn’t the last slammed door, or argument, or soft cry; for either of them. At least Mom loves me, he had thought, at least she’s mine.

With the alcohol and that understanding of absent love and those arguments, Steve would instigate them, too. He’d pick fights if only to get Richard to leave the house quicker. He’d scream and spit and stomp his feet, if only to get time alone. He’d even get fussy with his mom. Because if he could be an ass, get them both to be angry at him, maybe Richard would stay off of her for a little while. Maybe he wouldn’t drink so early. Maybe he’d have to have a conversation about “Steve’s antics.” It only made him more distant. It only made him angrier.

And with all of that in mind, he stopped the birthday celebrations. He stopped caring. He stopped saying “I love you,” when Steve went to bed. He stopped being a dad.

Because Steve wasn’t his. And he wanted to make sure the whole world knew it.

In comes his twentieth birthday, though. And he thought, maybe, that Richard would care. That he’d do something similar to when Steve was a kid. Make pancakes and wake him up with a soft knock to his door and sing the birthday song. He supposed, though, that that was all so foolish. That he wasn’t a little kid, so why would Richard do any of that? Maybe to prove himself, that’s something. Maybe care at all.

His mom had said something at midnight. Then again at nine in the morning. Then again over scrambled eggs and bacon. Made plans. Ushered a card full of cash and the Duran Duran album he didn’t have yet, Notorious, on cassette into his hands. He thanked her, kissed the top of her head, and put his things away upstairs. Richard still had said nothing. In fact, he was snoring through the wall. And the evidence of his latest binge had been scattered across the kitchen countertops before making it to the recycling bin; Steve should know, he had to put them in there and his hands came away smelling of cheap beer—it’s not even the good stuff, how can he drink this shit, he asked himself.

But he couldn’t find it in himself to care anymore. Sure, his chest caved in something funny. And his throat sort of went dry. He went to his car, though. And he drove off to where Robin had told him to go. To Eddie’s new double-wide trailer, a damn replica of his old one on the outside. Where everybody was already parked and waiting. Hanging out outside, sodas and…beer in hand.

He took a steadying breath and forced his way over to them. Let them shout ‘Happy Birthday’ at him. And then he took a seat by Eddie. He was in a pair of loose black basketball shorts, a white t-shirt, and barefoot. His hair was piled up. And he was drinking.

“Hey baby,” Eddie greeted. He leaned over the side of the sofa they were on, dug around in what Steve assumed was a cooler, and held out a weeping beer can. “Technically, it’s not legal, but I’m not going to tell anybody.”

Steve eyed it for a few long seconds. Enough that Eddie’s hand wavered, the beer threatening to fall to the floor. He looked back up. “No—uh—no, I don’t want that. Can…I’m going to sound like a dick, but can I make a request?”

Eddie put the beer away with a sidelong glance. He furrowed his eyebrows. “It’s your birthday, Stevie. Of course you can make a request.”

“Can we put the beer away? I don’t…It’s making me uncomfortable.”

Another odd glance to Steve, Eddie gave. His mouth pinched. He swished his near empty can in his hand. How many has he had, Steve wondered briefly, some weird pulse of panic in his belly. “Sure,” Eddie agreed slowly. “You going cold turkey or something? Could’a sworn you had one the other day when I saw you?”

He watches Eddie stand up briefly, pour out his beer over the side of the porch, and then place it in a clear garbage bag that’s been tied to the railing. There’s already three or four beer cans in there—Steve knows that’s what they are, they all say Miller and the cans the kids have are bright red or green. He looks back to Eddie’s face when he settles down again, an arm thrown over the back of the couch, hair falling loosely from his bun, sweat on his brow, sweat or beer on his upper lip.

“I just don’t want people drinking today, please.” And he feels kind of silly. Having to explain himself.

But Eddie’s hand curls down from the back of the couch, dangling loose at the back of Steve’s neck. Fingers trailing over the top notches of his spine. “You got it, sugar. I’ll have Robs put it away inside, okay?” Steve nods loosely, lets Eddie holler out, and relaxes into his side.

The rest of the day went by pretty smoothly. There were gifts: hairspray from Dustin, some artwork from Will, a new basketball from Lucas, matching shirts from Robin, a book he’d asked for from Eddie, and cards from the others who couldn’t find something in time or afford anything. He’s thankful for it all because it’s more than he expected. And there’s cake, his favorite, German chocolate with Ferrero Rocher candies on the borders; “Nance and I made it,” Robin explained and he gave her a knowing look.

It was all so normal. So good. So sweet.

Just like it had been last year. Even the year before that. And the years prior, when it was his mom and Tommy and Carol and Nancy. And the years before that, when it was Richard and his mom.

He really wants to cry about it.

When the party dwindles down, it’s just him and Eddie. Eddie’s putting out the last of the recycling and cleaning up some dishes, to which he adamantly refused to let Steve help with. And so Steve takes advantage, using the new phone.

He dials his house number and waits as it rings for his mom to pick up.

“Harrington household, Laura speaking,” she greets, her voice…nasally. Unusually so.

“Hey Mom,” he greets back, “it’s…Well, you know it’s Steve. Just called to…wanted to check-in. How’s everything going?”

She shuffles on the other end. Clears her throat. Sniffs. “He’s not going to say it, Stevie, I’m sorry,” she says, voice unreasonably apologetic. “I tried to get him to at least call this number you gave me, you know for your Eddie friend. And he…he just scoffed at me. Said some things, you know how he is.”

“Oh,” he mutters. His voice must do something weird, because Eddie’s slowing his wash on the dishes, leaning further into the counter edge to look at Steve. “Are you okay?”

“It’s the usual, Stevie. It’s just—“ She sighs, a great heaving thing. “—Just the usual. He’s already out to the store. Took the last bit of my cash for it; he spent all his own. Left me here with microwaved leftovers. Might turn in early.”

“I can give back the bit of cash you gave—“

“No,” she rushes. “No, Stevie. That’s your money. If it came back to me, he’d probably take it anyway. Don’t worry about it, alright? Just…If your friend can let you, I think you should stay the night there. Richard’s…he’s got the whiskey out from the den. Just stay with Eddie for now. I’ll take you out tomorrow for cake, okay? We’ll make a little date out of it. Just us. Like it was…Like it was before.”

He stands still for a moment. The phone cradled in his hands by his ear. Her words ringing out so loud, yet so soft. He really wants to cry about it.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters in his silence, “I’m sorry he ruined this for you.” She shuffles again. Probably got one arm wrapped around her waist, stepping to the side in her slippers. Like she always does when she has to call her sister about…him. She sighs again. “I’d leave him if I could. God, Steve. I would create whole galaxies for just us to live in if I could. I wish I knew how to fix this. I’m sorry I can’t fix this.”

“It’s alright, Mama,” he whispers, utterly broken. “’T’s alright. We’ll do cake tomorrow, yeah? I’ll pay for us to get milkshakes for old times sake, right? Like…” He swallows. Murmurs, “Like before.”

Just off to the side, Eddie’s inched closer. The dishes completely abandoned now. Steve doesn’t want to look at him, thinks he’ll break down if he does. But his body heat is welcoming, wrapping around him like a warm hug.

“Like before,” she echoes. Sniffs. “Just heard the car outside. I’ll…Call me in the morning, okay? I’ll let you know how tonight went. I love you, Stevie. I love you, don’t forget that.”

He takes a breath, it stutters like the skip over a scratch on a record. “I love you, too,” he breathes out. “Be safe,” he murmurs, “you have the address if you need to get away. Or…call me if you need me to get you.”

“I’ll be okay,” she mutters, a wisp of a smile to her voice. “Now, you go have fun. Tell Eddie I said hi. And that…Tell him I say thank you for keeping you.”

They share their goodbyes almost hastily. Right as her words fall through the receiver, the front door seems to open, and the phone is hung up before he can chance anything else. The dial tone is blearing in his ears. He keeps the phone cradled close, like maybe she’ll reach a hand out through the speaker and caress his face. Kind of wants her to.

And he doesn’t have the chance to stop himself from crying. Trembling where he stands. Tears streaking hot and fast down his cheeks, over his jaw. He doesn’t make a noise, but it’s a near damn thing.

“Baby?” Eddie calls softly. He takes a hesitant step forward. And he’s closer than Steve thought. Right at his left side. His hands reach out and take the phone from Steve, hanging it back up. He wraps his palms over Steve’s biceps, barely turning him. “Sweetheart?” He calls out again, softer this time. Bending down just a little to make them stare at each other. He moves up to Steve’s face, cupping his cheeks, thumbs working over the tears. “’S everything alright?”

He sobs something little at that. Closing his eyes so he can’t see Eddie. “He’s so selfish,” he manages to cry out, “Why doesn’t he care?”

“Who, sweetheart? Who’s ass do I need to…” Steve finally stares back. And whatever it is that’s there, Eddie seems to understand. “Oh,” he coos, “oh baby.” In a flurry of movement, Steve is pulled in tight and close. Haphazardly dragged back to the sofa and plopped down almost unceremoniously, if Eddie weren’t holding him so carefully. There’s a palm at the center of his back and one on his head. Both of them firm and welcomed and warm.

“He—Just—He just doesn’t,” Steve hiccups between breaths, “Never—Never cared.”

Eddie shushes him gently. Leans back against the armrest behind him, and pulls Steve on top. His face is tucked into Eddie’s left shoulder, where it’s awkwardly stuffed between the armrest and the backing, and he just cries.

There haven’t been a lot of moments where Steve’s cried over this. Maybe once or twice when he was in high school, but that’s about it. Otherwise, he was getting it out through anger or ignoring it altogether or trying to talk it out with his mom. So many conversations and so many arguments and so much just shoved inside his chest. He thinks if he weren’t getting it out right now, soaking the fabric of Eddie’s white shirt, he’d probably burst at the seams, maybe teeter, fall right off the deep end into something murky and thick. He’d probably die from it. Have a heart attack, maybe, like his dad did.

When there’s nothing more to cry out, he just breathes hot and heavy and choking over Eddie’s shoulder. “I’ve got you, baby,” Eddie murmurs, fingers petting through Steve’s hair, “we’ve got nowhere to be right now, okay? You can fall apart here, I’ll still catch you.”

He sniffs. “I just…I just want him to love me,” Steve admits quietly, “To think of me as his kid and to want to do better and to just be somebody I wanna be around.” His arms wrap snuggly around Eddie’s waist, pushing himself further into the hold of their bodies.

“Can I ask something?” Eddie asks gently.

“You just did,” Steve murmurs, voice crackling with the joke. It’s almost hollow coming out of his mouth.

But Eddie snorts anyway. “Okay…Fine. Two questions. Does this have anything to do with the whole beer thing earlier?”

Steve stiffens, brain fighting to find an excuse, but he figures it’s best to just be honest. Even as shameful as it seems to be some days. “Yeah,” he sighs, giving in. Swallows harshly, his jugular moving over Eddie’s shoulder, the sharp outline of the joint against his neck. “Yeah, it does. He drinks like everyday. Sometimes he…some days he doesn’t, claims he’s stopping for good, says he won’t pick it back up. But then he’s doing it the next day and I—“ He shrugs where he can move. “I just don’t get it, I guess. And I…I try so hard to not think of him badly, y’know? He’s probably got shit he’s working through. But it’s almost everyday, Eddie. He’s almost always drunk. Always arguing with my mom. I can hear him through the floor of my room,” he admits. “I want to feel bad, but the way he treats me—the way he treats my mom—“

“How does he treat you? Just focus on you right now, Steve.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and breathes a harsh sigh through his nose. He can’t bring himself to pull his head up, to look Eddie in the eyes. “I want to feel bad,” he repeats slowly. “But he’s so awful. He’s not a good person when he’s drunk, Eddie. He just riles me up, argues with me, tears me back down. That sort of shit.” Steve shifts, rolling his head over onto Eddie’s chest. The depth of his breath under Steve’s ear.

“He told me to go fuck myself the other night,” Steve murmurs, “I don’t know why, but that like…It solidified in me the fact that he doesn’t love me. I don’t know why I expected him to tell me happy birthday today. Why he’d choose this year out of ‘em all to finally be the person I expected him to be. Just my stupid brain, I guess.”

Eddie’s arms tighten around him. Hands petting over where they rest. “It’s okay to be disappointed, Steve,” he carefully states. “You wanted the best for him and he let you down, tore you apart in the process. You needed him to be your dad and he’s made no effort, it’s not…You’re not stupid for wanting that love.”

“He used to be so nice, Eds. I used to love him. I want to love him, but he makes it so hard. God, that makes me sound like such a terrible person, to admit something like that out loud.”

“No, Stevie,” Eddie immediately says. “You’re not a bad person for wanting to love somebody. And you’re not a bad person for refusing yourself to love them. He’s hurt you, Steve. And you’re allowed to feel how you need to.

“And…” Eddie’s hands clasp over the middle of Steve’s back. Heavy and sure. “From experience,” he musters, “with my dad, sometimes you just gotta let go of that love. Sometimes you just gotta tell yourself that it’s not possible. Because…honestly, in some ways, it is impossible. My dad had every opportunity, and yet he chose alcohol and drugs and crime over me.

“I miss who he was��Before my mom died. I miss his laugh and his hugs and our inside jokes. Miss the way he used to play guitar and the late night drives we’d go on. I miss when he taught me good things, like catching lightning bugs in our palms and how to make a good smash burger and how to tell entertaining stories.

“I don’t miss him now, though,” Eddie confesses quietly. The words almost lost in Steve’s hair. “He hurt me in irreparable ways. Mentally and…and physically. But what got me through the worst of it, before I came here, was knowing there were other people out there who’d love me. Who love me and continue despite who I am or what I’ve experienced. Like Wayne. And my grandma, at the time. My friends; Corroded Coffin especially.

“I could spend a million lifetimes unloved by my dad, but at least it’s the real love I was surrounded by. Sometimes people are so damaged that they like it, they like the cracks they can trace and the anger in their blood, they almost enjoy it—they usually don’t get better. My dad was that way. Even when he quit the couple times he did, he always found his way back to that alcohol, those drugs.” Eddie’s fingers absentmindedly trace over the notches of Steve’s spine. His breath a little heavier, a bit raspier. And Steve is absorbing the words. “Sometimes people want to get better and they don’t know how. And that’s when help is needed, outsourced hands, intervention, that kinda shit.”

“We’ve tried,” Steve breathes heavily. “My mom and I have tried so damn hard, Eddie.”

“What’s he usually say in response to that help?” Eddie asks quietly.

Steve takes a deep breath. Sighs, “That he doesn’t want it.” He slowly brings his left hand to Eddie’s chest, tracing figure eights over his shirt. “I wish he’d want it. I—He was my dad for a little while. Now I just live with a stranger.”

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Eddie murmurs, “for what it’s worth. I’m sorry you’re going through this. That you’re still going through this.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not, Stevie. Things don’t have to be this way.”

“It has to be fine,” Steve mutters, “there’s no other way right now. I can’t leave my mom. And my mom can’t leave him. And he won’t stop.”

Eddie takes a careful breath. “You can leave, though. Steve, you’re an adult, you can go,” he softly states.

“I’m not leaving my mom,” Steve snaps lightly. He sniffs, the last of those tears and snot receding. “Sorry,” he breathes. “I just can’t do that to her, Eds. She wouldn’t do it to me. I’m not gonna do it to her.”

“Okay,” Eddie murmurs, “then, look at me, sweetheart.” Slowly, careful of the slight tension in his neck, Steve raises his head and stares down at Eddie. There are tear tracks on Eddie’s cheeks. A sheen to his eyes. And Steve begins to reach up, but Eddie holds him down tightly. “You, Steve Harrington, are loved by people who want to do right by you. You, Steve, will have love in so many corners of your life. The love that Dick has isn’t for you and it definitely isn’t for your mom.

“I love you, you hear me? And Wayne does. Hopper does. There, that’s two dads. Your mom loves you, too. She loves you with her whole soul. And you’ve got your friends, Robin and Dustin especially. And you’ll have more, Stevie,” Eddie explains gently, his fingers going back to trace along the edges of Steve’s spine. “I can’t fix things, I’m sorry. And I’m not sure how things turn around. But they will some day. I know it because I lived it. We can’t figure it out right now, but we’ll find our way some time down the line. Focus on the people you’ve got right now, though, Stevie. Not him. He ain’t worth a rat’s ass.”

Steve snorts wetly. His lips tremble and his eyes ache something fierce. He’ll cry forever at this rate, but at least Eddie’s hands move to his cheek, at least he wipes the tears away. “I love you, too,” he breathes. “And I’m sorry that you have to know all this shit. That you had to go through that.”

“I’ll figure out a way to know how to get you through it, too,” Eddie murmurs, smiling softly, his eyes moments away from leaking. “But you’re loved. He ain’t worth it. Don’t go searching for something you ain’t gonna find.”

He drops his head back down and burrows under Eddie’s chin. At least he found this. “When I’m ready to go, will you have space for me?”

“Always and forever,” Eddie rushes to answer. “Remember, baby? You fall and I catch you. You come knocking on my door, I’m gonna answer it. And if you climb in bed with me, I’ll hold you close and never let go.”

Steve nods gently, pushing himself in further. He sighs. “Thank you,” he mutters. Eddie squeezes him in. “My mom said hi and thank you, by the way. Remind me to call her in the morning? I wanna make sure I get her before he wakes up.”

“You got it, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs, “now let’s get ourselves to bed before we fall asleep on this couch. Gotta be comfortable, don’t we?”

He huffs. “But you’re comfy.”

Eddie snorts. “I love you and I don’t want you to be sore. Come to bed with me?”

Steve wriggles. “Okay,” he relents. “Because I love you and I also don’t want you to be sore.”

And, he supposes, because he's loved.

🫂————————🫂 Sorry if this sucked, I wrote this with a raging migraine and have no grasp on how shit it is. Whoops.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington's parents #steddie #angst and hurt/comfort #read the content warnings #cw alcohol #cw alcoholism #hopeful ending #bittersweet ending

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