𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦

chasing midnight

it's past midnight when she finally pulls onto the open road, the low rumble of the engine filling the quiet, deserted streets like thunder after lightning. the city blurs past, neon lights smearing into ribbons of color in her periphery, yet her focus is razor-sharp, locked onto the dark stretch of road ahead. yuwon presses harder on the accelerator, feeling the raw, mechanical power of the car pulse beneath her—a beast alive with fury, mirroring her own. her hands are steady on the wheel, but her pulse beats an erratic rhythm, each thrum a reminder of what she's trying to escape.

the helmet's weight is comforting, like a second skin, a mask she slips into effortlessly. out here, with only the hum of the engine and the rush of wind screaming past her, yuwon doesn't have to be yuwon. she's racer 07, a name whispered with reverence and fear, and for a few perfect, fleeting moments, she's untouchable. invincible.

the cold, unfeeling mask of racer 07 fits perfectly tonight.

underneath her helmet, her lips press into a thin line. it's the same every time; once the visor drops, she's not yuwon anymore. she's an idea, a whisper of something too quick and too dangerous to catch. she understands now why heeseung reacted the way he did, but wasn't he being just a bit dramatic? a small voice whispers that maybe she went too far, that maybe he had a right to be angry. but anger demands attention, and she's had enough of holding back.

she swerves, narrowly avoiding the faint glint of a streetlamp as she veers around a sharp turn, feeling the tires grip the asphalt with a controlled ferocity that brings her one heartbeat closer to losing control. the thrill is heady, intoxicating, making her feel like she's balancing on the razor's edge of chaos. she knows the danger; every flick of her wrist, every slight press of the pedal, could mean the difference between life and a split-second plunge into oblivion. and tonight, she's closer to the edge than ever, testing limits she once swore she'd never touch.

thoughts of heeseung, of yeonjun, and every unspoken word between them bleed into the speed. with each mile, the weight of their disapproval, their reactions, and even her own doubts fade into the background. she's faster than regret, faster than pain, the speed swallowing her fears whole.

the streets are her kingdom, and right now, no one—no one—can tell her who to be.

the neon lights of the racing strip stretch out like a gauntlet as she nears the meetup spot—a known haunt for street racers, their shadows gathering in the half-light, the air dense with smoke and adrenaline. the scene is everything she needs right now: pulsing with life, yet empty enough for her to carve her own path. she feels like a predator, every sharp turn and hard press of the accelerator a taunt to the darkness itself.

their silhouettes are painted in the dim, half-lit street, a tangle of bodies and cars, engines roaring like a symphony, some faces turned toward her arrival, others oblivious. she doesn't slow down; if anything, she accelerates, a single thought pounding through her mind: let them watch.

the car seems to move with a mind of its own, an extension of her very will as she speeds through the lot, a blur of chrome and rebellion. she feels her pulse spike, the heat of adrenaline spreading through her like wildfire. every eye is on her as she rounds the corner, and in that moment, she's every rumor they've ever whispered about racer 07—deadly, reckless, a force they can't reckon with. and then, she sees him.

heeseung stands among the crowd, a single, solid figure amidst the chaos. his gaze is intense, burning through her like an unspoken challenge, a reminder of everything she's trying to outrun. he knows who racer 07 is now. and nobody else does.  the sight only fuels her—she's close enough to see the tension in his shoulders, the slight clench of his jaw. she doesn't stop; instead, she yanks the wheel and lets the car drift into a flawless circle around him, the tires screeching a song of defiance as rubber burns against asphalt. her eyes lock onto his for a brief second through the tinted visor, a silent message hanging in the air between them.

watch me.

heeseung's gaze is molten, dark and unwavering as she spins around him, her car a blur of sleek metal and raw energy. his chest tightens, a dull ache blooming beneath his ribs. she's reckless tonight, her speed screaming with a desperation he knows all too well but can't quite name. he doesn't move, doesn't flinch, even as she carves her presence around him, so close he can feel the rush of air she leaves in her wake.

but he sees it. underneath the sharp precision of her movements, he catches glimpses of something deeper—of hurt, maybe even self-destruction. it stirs something uncomfortable in him, something raw that he's tried to bury since the night he discovered the truth. she's racing with a death wish tonight. the thought hits him harder than he'd care to admit.

heeseung watches as she finishes her circle, the screech of her tires fading into an echo, and just as quickly as she arrived, she's speeding away. the crowd murmurs, a few clapping or cheering, but his attention is locked onto the trail of dust and light she's left in her wake. she's gone before he can process it, leaving behind only the faint, burning scent of rubber and a hollowness that settles in his chest like a bruise.

his fists clench, a quiet fury igniting beneath his skin. he hates it—the way she can just disappear, leaving him to pick up the pieces of his frustration and confusion, the questions she's buried under that damn helmet. but more than that, he hates the way she makes him feel so small, so insignificant, in her world of speed and danger.

and yet, he can't shake the pull of it—of her.