it's not enough. he's splayed out over the folds of the couch, ceiling swimming with sparks and the occasional jump in his vision. damine left twenty minutes ago to do .. damien things, youngji was seeing the younger ones off, daniel and taekjo fell away into one of the bedrooms (they were talking gibberish much too refined for your weathered palette) and adrien is left on his own. a dying cigarette jumps along the lines of his lips and a bottle of cheap beer rolls between his fingers.

it's a one-man show once again. the adrien show. i'm here all night folks! 

"adrien?"

he slides himself up, eyelids dragging across his vision, cigarette smoke trickling out of his nostrils. youngji stands in the hallway. she's propped against the wall and her shoulders are slumped. even from here he can see the tired beneath her eyes.

"you're still up?" she gives a large yawn. "it's almost 4am."

"i-i dunno," his voice sound tinny, warbly. "can't sleep."

"can't?" her teeth drag along the word. "okay. just make sure you've got enough energy. we've got a big race tomorrow night."

adrien flops back onto the couch, delicately removing the cigarette for a swig of beer. some of it dribbles down his chin in rivers.

"it's not my race tomorrow," adrien mumbles. "i can take some liberties."

youngji sighs. it scratches against his ears, painful and raw.

"we are a team, adrien," youngji gives a soft smile. "remember that."

with that, she drifts off down the hall. he waits until he hears her pad into her room. when he hears her door click shut, he allows his eyes to close. his veins are still buzzing and his bones hum. quiet down.

                                                                                  ...


"it's lily lee here! i'm in the heart of seoul's racing scene with one of the greatest street racing teams in the nation! it's our pleasure to sit down with them for a little while to ask them some questions! give it up- for MAELSTROM!"

they slide through the wall of fingers and saliva. they are so clean, so smooth, like dropping a goldfish into water. there are ten of them in total, but three hang back by the vehicles. their features look glazed.

a young man leads the fray. his hair is gelled into a small mountain. his dark brows hover over his dilated pupils, lips in a line that jumps and bounces every so often. he is walking on velvet, plush red practically appearing beneath the soles of pointed toe armani glamour. when he inhales, the rest of the crowd surges forward. they topple backwards like dominoes whenever he sighs. he wiggles his fingers to the women on the side, chuckling when their eyes roll back. 

behind him is another man- though this one is slouching and slinking in the shadow of luxury. he's bunched up in an oil-streaked hoodie. the drawstrings are pulled so tight that the hood frames his face. there is a puddle of bruising beneath his eyes that almost matches the shine of red at the edge of his lips. his cheeks slink inwards and his nose runs thin. his eyes dart from corner to corner, hands stuffed into the pocket of his hoodie. he spits to the side, eyebrows dropping low near his iris.

following him is a bouncing girl. her white thigh highs almost touch the edge of her skin-tight shorts. she wears cotton candy threads on her torso and taffy in her hair. her fingers eagerly twirl the tasty tendrils, tangling in their strings. a bright pink bubble rises from her lips, giggles pinching it shut between her teeth. her round eyes are doll-like with perfect black kohl smudges at the edges. she waves adamantly to all of the crowd. she steps out of line to wipe the drool from the chins of young boys, leaving behind a weft of sticky sweet.

in the backwash of gumdrops and glitter comes sharp edges and pointed tips. he's got a spiky mass of silver hair, eyeborws making acute angles as they brush the edges of his waterline. he bares his arms, black muscleshirt tattered in all the right places, flamin gred leather pants creasing in all the proper lines. there's an air of order to him, but it ultimately comes together messy. he's smirking, eyes ablaze as he scans the hoardes around them. his eyes widen with a sparkle.

and then a young boy stumbles forward, ramming into the back of the human spike. he ducks his head down, apologizing under his breath as his fingers quiver. he's got a head of bloodred hair, narrow eyes with worried eyebrows. his face is moon-like, figure crooked in posture. everything about him is round, but flaking with erosion. the black leather jacket is hanging off of his shoulders. its collar is flipped up so it brushes his jaws. every time the crowd roars he jumps, twisting and turning to catch a look of whoever made the sound.

then he's pushed forward by the boy behind him. this boy has a taste of baby fat still on his face, cherry blossom lips sweet against porcelein complexion. his almond eyes watch over the man before him, hands resting gently on his shoulders. he's dressed like gangnam- tailored and fit and plastic pressed. even over the cries of the audience his giggles are audible. he leans forward to whisper something into the boy's ear. the boy promptly frowns.

staggering behind him, barely keeping up, is a young man with satin hanging off of his collarbones. his thighs shine through tight leather pants, pointed toes like ballet slippers, eyes a milky way. he trails behind them all, head cocking and tongue swiping along his gums. his lips are full, neck pristine beside a smear of red along his adam's apple. he bites the tip of his finger, flipping his bangs out of his eyes to see the many bodies clawing to get a piece of him. he grins.

folding chairs sit in the center of it all, positioned on the starting line with lamps illuminating the set up. lily sits a bit away, legs folded and lips shining. her eyelashes smack against the apples of her cheeks, jet black hair tangling her cleavage. she's pressed into two thin pieces of fabric like saran wrap. 

MAELSTROM files into the chairs, no words spoken. they drift across pavement and rest upon the metal. the one who led them out takes the seat beside lily. she watches him with bright eyes.

"it's seriously such an honor to have you guys here." her teeth are led's against the shine of her lips. "for those who are just meeting you for the first time, why don't you introduce yourselves?"

the man by her side raises an eyebrow but he gives her a sliding smile anyways. his eyes track the camera lens and he begins.

"nice to meet you all," his voice feels like cough syrup. "i'm the leader of MAELSTROM: jinyoung."

the crowd howls, banging against the concrete. the red haired boy twitches.

the camera pans to the boy in the hoodie, who stares holes into the ground with surprising intensity. he's nudged by the spike on his left who he scowls at. slowly his eyes trail up to meet the camera.

"wonwoo."

jinyoung slides an arm around the other boy's shoulders (he stiffens, furrows his brows. he shimmies, hoping the arm comes off), patting his back affectionately. lily coos.

"he's our best racer, might i add," jinyoung sighs. "we're very lucky to have him."

wonwoo hisses, finally pushing the leader off. the spike snorts as the camera pans to him. his fingers run laps around his belt loops, pulling on seams. his eyes are lined, teeth catching the light.

"you can call me taeyong!" a laugh. "i'm the greatest thing to happen to MAELSTROM since its creation."

there are low protests in the background as the camera pans to the girl popping her gum as loud as she can. she crosses her legs with drama, leaning forward with a light in her eyes.

"call me hihi!" she beams. "it's much cuter, right?"

gangnam beside her emits a small "oh please" and she swiftly turns to face him. her pigtails slap into her face and she snaps her gum. gangnam barely gives her a look. instead, he opts for the camera that slides his way.

"hello," a slight bow. "hwanhee. though, most everyone calls me hwan."

the camera drifts to the red haired boy who is struggling to hold up the body of the boy on the end. he's sweating, swearing in muffled tones, pushing the body off of his lap time and time again. there's the sound of a clearing throat and the camera swivels back to jinyoung.

"those two down there are dobin and jimin," he winces. "they're .. something else."

lily giggles. "okay, i see. how about we get to some questions?"

lights on. turn up the heat. 

                                                                                   ...

the exhaust permeates into the humble garage and fills it up to the brim. his nose curls, toes twitching. a certain type of exhaust continues to fill up his bones just as easily.

they're strewn all over the space with a couple of other teams meandering in stiff orbits. spitfire keeps to the left and another team hovers at the right. youngji told him about that team, but he can't quite remember anything about them besides the fact that the leader is his own special brand of scary.

daniel flicks his eyes to the open garage door behind him, the balls of his feet springing up at the thought of escape. the adrenaline surges into his veins, pushing up to his head. he stiffens, turning just slightly to that way- but he pushes himself down. in due time, in due time. there's still so much left to be done.

"dr. dan."

he blinks. taekjo stands in front of him, cheshire grin in place with a shot glass delicately clenched between his fingers. daniel designates a special look to the alcohol and taekjo sighs.

"i can have a little fun, can't i?" he's in a well worn huff now. "besides, it's not my race tonight."

daniel chews on his lip. "just don't get too wasted."

"oh?"

"it won't do us any good to have you getting into trouble."

taekjo gasps, hand slapping against his chest. "me? trouble? how absurd of you to say!"

daniel shakes his head, crinkled smile slipping onto his features. he begins to take stock of the teams once again. while most of the teams keep to themselves, ilhwa is speaking to a couple boys from the special team. one sports a tremendous shock of red hair and furrowed brows, while the other is soft and fluffed with a figure encased in dashing black leather. ilhwa himself stands in bloodred flannel, black cap pulled too far down over his eyes.

"are you wondering about them?"

daniel shifts his gaze back to taekjo (who is currently tipping back all of the contents of the shot in one go). taekjo motions lazily with his finger, boxing in the mismatched trio with imaginary lines.

"that red haired loser is dobin," taekjo states flatly. "he's referred to as 'doberman' by pretty much everyone in the racing scene- but trust me. 'poodle' is much more fitting."

he traces his finger to land on the softer boy to the side. "that's hwan. he's as rich as they come. kind of a flake, but he knows his way around the city like a gps."

daniel watches as ilhwa gives a playful punch to dobin's shoulder, observing how the redhead recoils with a confused grin.

"now you're wondering why they're talking to ilhwa, right?" taekjo begins. "beats me. dobin's been attached to ilhwa since he first came onto the scene. i think it's because ilhwa is the only idiot who can actually sit through dobin's mindless conversations.

"hwan and ilhwa have beef," taekjo shrugs. "they probably know each other. both are too ing rich to be unaware of each other."

as they watch, ilhwa freezes, hesitantly turning to look at taekjo and daniel. a bit of his cheek twitches. hwan leans forward and whispers something to him which ilhwa squares his shoulders and sharply rebukes.

daniel lets his eyes wander. youngji and damien are talking to a man with smoothly styled hair and rigid posture. the man's eyes never waver from the two in front of him and the chill that runs throughout daniel's body gives a sure sign that this man is the leader of the special team.

"jinyoung is a piece of work," taekjo whispers against the shell of his ear. "he hates my guts, but it's only because i outsmarted him at his own game."

daniel's mind briefly drifts to taekjo and his bug over on the side of the road on a muggy night in seoul. his lip was busted, eyes squinting through the blood that run down from his crown. he can still see the way his body curled inwards to cushion bruised ribs.

he blinks the image away through the sound of high pitched giggling. he darts his eyes over to where a girl leans against the bar in the room. she's decked out in some sort of bizarre pink sweater with a pair of white spandex shorts. her hair curls at the ends, being abused by the rapid twists of her fingers. she's staring intently at adrien- who teeters between consciousness and unconsciousness.

a spike of silver hair makes its way to block his vision. he blinks, attempting to focus, as the spike backs up. he stares into dark eyes and chiseled face.

"you're daniel chae, right?" the spike asks, tilting his chin upwards.

"y-yes that's me." daniel chokes.

"i'm taeyong." a smirk. "heard you're our pace car for the evening."

the sudden heat on his side signals that taekjo is watching him. he takes a deep breath, runs a finger up and down his wrists.

"yeah, i'm the pace car." his voice breaks on the last word and he tries not to wince.

taeyong looks him up and down with eyebrows excellently quirked. his mouth curls, fingers finding a home in his belt loops. his enlarged pupils dart to taekjo for a millisecond. (something carnal swirls there) taekjo scowls and looks away.

"the roadways will be a little more hazardous tonight," taeyong punches daniel's shoulder with a little more force than a joke. "i think the sweat from your hands is enough to make any racer spin out."

daniel's insides twist. taeyong laughs as he turns on his heel to catch other pursuits. taekjo only grumbles a small " off" before he faces daniel again. daniel, in turn, is beginning to breath heavier and heavier.

it's going to be a long night.