♡ HEART RACE 🏎 • MINSUNG

10

Heavy breaths and loud contacts with a firm padding were heard across the garage, occasional squeaks coming from the shoes of a man. A quick one-two, reset, and repeat. He'd been doing this for the last hour and a half, but even though he was drenched with sweat, and far too exhausted to continue, he did anyway. Right then left, dodge, and repeat. It went in a bit of a tune. Minho had always been good at boxing. Why he was, he had no idea. Punching things, and sometimes people, came naturally to him. Almost as natural as driving.

The big difference between the two was Minho didn't drive anymore, and he only boxed when he was angry. He didn't think angry began to deliver the intense feeling he had inside his chest at the moment. Why was he so mad anyway? Jisung was right, he wasn't his boyfriend. He didn't have any right to hold him back from a race. Hell, he didn't even have the right to be angry at the younger. Yet there he was, beating up an innocent punching bag like it'd killed his uncle. What was he, spiderman?

Minho struck once more before deciding enough was enough. He hugged the swinging bag, head resting against the leather exterior. Jisung was so stupid. No, even worse, Minho was stupid. Jisung knew deep down what was going on between them, and here he was messing it all up. If he'd just come out and say it—he growled, standing up straight and ripping the velcro straps from their partners. He shook his fists violently, the boxing gloves he was wearing falling to the floor with a thud.

"Fuck!"

The curse echoed throughout the garage. If he'd just face his fears he'd stop losing the things precious to him. Minho slumped against one of his cars and slid down to the floor slowly. He kept saying what was on his heart and then ruining it a second later. It wasn't Jisung's fault he didn't take the obvious feelings seriously, it was Minho's. Minho continued to hesitate. The ex-driver sighed, head leaning back against the door of his vehicle. Why was it so hard to just tell someone that you were interested in them?

What was he scared of? He knew too well already. He was scared to lose him. Like he did his name, and even more so, like his dad and old friend. The things he grew attached to always ended up dying or leaving. That's why he didn't talk to his mom as much; why he had put a line between him and the other stray kids. A stupid reason. An absolutely foolish reason. He couldn't stop despite knowing how childish it was. No matter how hard he tried to overcome those feelings, in the end, he betrayed himself.

Jisung was partly to blame too. If he had just shut his mouth and stayed in Minho's arms at the beach for a second longer, you're not my boyfriend, would've never come out of his mouth. But the older couldn't blame him for the chances he'd missed out himself. He could've asked Jisung out when he told Jisung he was gay. At the airport, he could've told Jisung: Hey, if you were my boyfriend, you wouldn't have to be afraid of crowded places anymore—and if that wasn't forward enough, he could've just not said valentines day could be a friends thing. But no. Lee Minho was an idiot.

Instead of doing what any smart person would do, he pushed the boy away and made him think he was being friend zoned. The worst part, he didn't know how to stop. On top of that, he was pretty sure Jisung was mad at him for bossing him around. Minho had every right to be worried. Jisung should know that too. He'd told him about his dad and how he died. Minho sank even further down, his head eventually hitting the polished concrete. His arm found its way over his eyes, blocking the bright lights, which were connected to the ceiling, from blinding him.

He understood what Jisung meant. At least, he had at one point in his life. When did it stop? When did racing feel like a burden instead of freedom? Was it when he got arrested or had it been before that? When, Where, Why? All the w questions needed answering. The answers were nowhere to be found. What was holding him back?