♡ HEART RACE 🏎 • MINSUNG

1

Street racing.

What is your first thought when you think of it?  Is it the fact that it's illegal; dangerous? A hand written death certificate handed to you as soon as you cross the checkered line. Maybe you're guaranteed the after life when you enter the car.

"You ready Jisung?" A man with black hair asked. He popped his head inside the open window of the red Mitsubishi Eclipse that belonged to the the driver, Han Jisung, and continued to speak. "Just don't forget—"

The man with his hand sat on the worn down steering wheel turned his head to his friend. He seemed happy one second, then upset the next. "I know, Changbin. If I'm in danger, back out," he relayed with narrowed eyes. "You tell me every race. I'm ready as I'll ever be. I'm gonna show these assholes what a real racer looks like," he added after a small pause.

"I'm serious Jisung. This is Japan. The rules here are different than back in South Korea. It's much riskier," Changbin lectured. For such a masculine guy he sure knew how to run his mouth like an old lady. He worried far too much. Or perhaps it was Jisung who didn't worry enough. 

"The rules are never that much different," the driver sassed. "The one rule is that there are no rules. I guess not getting caught by the police counts as a rule too—I don't particularly want to be put in cuffs," Jisung muttered in disagreement to his friend. He rolled his eyes as a mint green sports car drove up behind Changbin. It was a nice color, Jisung would admit. He, however, detested sports cars with a passion. His junkyard hand-me-down was good enough. He wished everyone else saw it that way. The car which caused unwelcoming feelings within the brown-haired man suddenly flashed with bright colors. LED's on the roof. Not just the roof though. The tires had some too. What a fucking Show off.

Now what if—and this is a what if situation—that idiot with the mint green Mazda span it's wheels far too fast, and those lights wrapped and tangled around the bolts snapped from the pressure. What would happen if they flew up into the undercarriage? One second they'd be flying down the roads and the next through the air like a bird. Free falling as they say. Jisung chuckled to himself at his broken humor and looked back into his best friends eyes. "People are so fucking stupid," he whispered.

"I know. I have lived with you for half my fucking life," Changbin countered with an annoyed tone. He was such a grump at races. Probably because he didn't actually like the fact that Jisung did race. "Jisung. People here aren't going to be as respectful. They don't care if you get hurt. Especially if you show up in a car like yours."

A knock on the window opposite to the drivers side pulled Jisung's attention away from Changbin. He was glad to be interrupted. He knew how that conversation was going to go. You should stop racing recklessly and find someone to sponser you. He sighed at the thought. Seeing familiar blonde curly hair, his sour attitude switched up as quick as his gears did on the streets. He rolled down the window, another man tossing his head inside the car lazily. "Just listen to Changbin. He's worried. Take it easy for the first race in Japan. After you've got a feel of things be as risky as you want."

Jisung pouted at his other friend. "Chrissy wake up—" Changbin whacked the driver in the neck as he made his first audible joke that night. "I don't like this," Jisung added, holding his hands up to stop Changbin's attacks. "Short arms asshole!"

"I'm going to fucking strangle you. Han Jisung step out of your car, right now!"

"Don't you even try it! I'll bring you with me to hell bitch," Jisung argued, sticking his tongue out and beginning to roll up the window Changbin had his head stuck through. The black-haired man jolted out quickly, resulting in him slamming his head into the top. He cussed a bit—a lot—and held it in his hands.
Jisung pushed Chris' head out of the car, ignoring the questionable gaze given.