Annyeongz One-shots

44. Overdrive ( 2 )

The humid air of Suzuka wrapped around Yujin as he stepped off the transport van, the distant roar of engines already vibrating through the grandstands. Japan had always been special—sharp corners, unpredictable weather, passionate fans—but today, the usual thrill of the track was accompanied by a strange, almost electric tension he couldn’t place.

He was moving through the paddock with his usual efficiency, scanning the cars, checking data with his engineers, but then a movement near the VIP stands caught his eye. At first, he didn’t register it; the crowd was massive, faces blurred together like a sea of excitement. But then… he froze.

There she was.

Wonyoung.

He blinked once, twice, thinking his eyes were deceiving him. She was standing slightly apart from the general crowd, leaning casually against the railing, notebook in hand, camera slung around her neck. The afternoon sun caught her hair just right, and the faint crease of concentration on her face made him pause. It wasn’t a fan cheer, it wasn’t waving or calling out—it was simply her, observing, quiet, focused, but completely unmistakable.

Yujin’s chest tightened in that familiar, unsettling way. He hadn’t expected to see her again so soon, certainly not here, thousands of miles away from London. And yet, there she was, somehow appearing in his orbit as if by design.

He ducked behind one of the team tents for a moment, rubbing his forehead as if that would help him regain control. Calm down, Yujin, he told himself. It’s just a fan. Just… a girl who knows your face.

But it wasn’t just that. He couldn’t ignore the tiny details—the way she held her notebook like it contained the world’s secrets, the subtle curve of her lips when she noticed something on the track, the way her eyes scanned the pit lanes with quiet fascination. He remembered the notebook from London, the way she had written down his name, and he realized—almost unwillingly—that she had remembered him too.

“Yujin,” a familiar voice broke through his thoughts. It was Jihoon, leaning against the pit wall with his ever-present smirk. “You okay, man? You’re acting like someone just threw a surprise corner at you.”

Yujin narrowed his eyes. “I’m fine,” he said, though his focus kept drifting back to Wonyoung.

“Oh, come on,” Jihoon continued, grinning. “You just froze like a rookie seeing a new tire compound. And don’t tell me you didn’t notice her. The one at the VIP stands. She’s… different, huh?”

Yujin’s jaw tightened. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, trying to steer the conversation back to strategy. “Focus on the car, Jihoon.”

Jihoon chuckled, clearly enjoying the situation. “Nothing, huh? You’re flushed, man. Even your helmet can’t hide it.”

Yujin groaned internally and turned back to the paddock, but his eyes inevitably found her again. She hadn’t moved. She was still watching, still calm, still quietly making herself part of this world he had always kept strictly professional and separate from himself.

A gust of wind carried the faint scent of cherry blossoms from outside the circuit, and for a moment, Yujin’s usual control slipped. He imagined her walking through the stands, notebook in hand, silently observing every car, every corner, just as she had before. His chest felt heavier, tighter, the hum of engines now competing with the buzz of awareness that she was here, watching, present.

“Yujin,” Jihoon said again, louder this time, snapping him out of his daze. “Focus! We have practice laps in ten minutes. Unless… you’re planning to wave at her from the track?”

Yujin’s lips twitched against his will. “I am not—” He stopped, realizing how ridiculous he sounded even to himself. He wasn’t planning to wave. He wasn’t planning to do anything. And yet… he couldn’t tear his gaze away.