AUTHOR'S NOTE: A lot of the upcoming chapters are just fluff that tie up loose ends and plot lines lol, I hope y'all are okay with that! There is still some racing ofc for the F1/racing fans :)  Enjoy!!

Chapter Theme:

The Midnight - Crystalline

The first time she texts Irene in more than a month is on the Monday, four days before practice for the final race of the season and six days before the race. There’s a certain tension to it as her finger hovers over the send button, a sort of fear of the unknown, an excitement she hasn’t felt outside the cockpit of Reve in a long time. Since perhaps that first kiss so long ago. Lifetimes almost. The day lies cold and windy and small flecks of November ice spiderweb the sidewalks and even at four in the afternoon the sun has long settled. For a while Seulgi just sits there. Silent and alone in her apartment in northern Seoul, debating whether it’s the right thing to do. Her unsent message reads:

You fancy meeting tonight? I miss you.

Perhaps it would be best to leave it. To allow Irene to take the initiative. And was it not Irene that suggested they spend time apart in the first place? But absence makes the heart grow fonder, and there isn’t much room for any more fondness in Seulgi’s heart. With a smile she sends it and waits. It’s not even three minutes before her phone hums and she drops the dishes in the bowl in the sink and wipes her hands and reads it. It’s from Irene. It says:

Sure 😊 I miss you too. Where?

She thinks about it for a while. In truth there aren’t that many places they share as a common ground, no restaurants or cafes or secret spots that hold lasting memories of good in the past, at least not yet. But there’s still time for that. So after a minute of contemplation she responds:

How about at the arcade near me? The one I showed you before. We never got chance to go in ☹

The wait feels like hours. Perhaps Irene is busy. Perhaps it hasn’t gone through. She checks again to make sure and puts the phone on the table and sets a pot of instant-solution chicken noodles to steam in the microwave. Thoughts of the race have not been on her mind since the day before, strange as it is. One point between them, everything down to the wire. A repeat of last year. Only this time their shared bond is not masked and mired in falseness – there are no more secrets. No more pretending to be okay, or momentary bouts of surety that they’re fine amid seas of doubt and self-dismissal. Just the tranquility of what they have separately become, ready to be shared again. To be made whole. It’s almost five PM when Irene texts back, a simple:

Sounds good 😊 I’ll you see at 8?

Yeah, Seulgi says, mouthing it with a smile as she types it out. Sounds good to me. See you there. I love you.

The arcade around the corner from her apartment is one of her favourite places away from the world and has been since she moved in and indescribably so. Perhaps it’s the solitude of being there alone at ten PM with nobody else around to take photos of her or ask for autographs or to stop and ask if she’s Kang Seulgi. Or the minor and momentary thrill of losing at the hoop shoot game. Or something else entirely, but the truth is it doesn’t matter. It’s a small home away from home, silly as it sounds. And when she spots Irene coming down the street toward her just after eight in the evening between the shadows it begins to feel more like a home than it ever has before.

She’s dressed in her trademark black leather jacket, hair tied back in a neat ponytail, roundrimmed glasses a slight too big for her face. Her bright white hi-top sneakers stand out a great deal against the rest of her outfit, but it’s a good standing out. A unique look. And she looks as great as ever, perhaps ever better. So much so that Seulgi – stood squinting under the streetlamp right outside the entrance – has to rub her eyes to make sure she’s real. And she is, smiling, waving, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her jacket. For a while she just stands there silently in front of Seulgi, still part of a fractional dream, unsure of how to proceed. The dynamic has shifted again and this time permanently and for the good of both of them. But time apart is awkward no matter what. It’s what follows that defines the moment.

‘Hi,’ Irene says eventually.

‘Hey.’

‘Sorry I’m late.’

‘It’s only a couple minutes,’ Seulgi says, hands in her own jacket pockets. She turns and looks up and down the street at a handful of cars and a few people drifting on by and the low light of the moon as it sits and does continue to sit perched globular in the pink diffusion of the night sky and pale as it has always been. Looking back at Irene again only one thought crosses her mind: Should I do it? Should I kiss her? Here, right here? In front of everyone? Or in there? Should I?

‘Sorry I didn’t say anything to you in Mexico,’ Irene says. ‘I was really busy. And I don’t mean that in, like, a rude way. Like I was being dismissive. But with everything going on, and with us winning the title—’

‘Congrats. I never got chance to say it.’

‘Thanks. The whole team was pretty happy, needless to say. Never seen Wheein or Yeri like that. Well, actually…Yeri, yeah. But still. Got a little drunk at the bar.’

‘I know. I saw some of you when I came down the next morning. Still there.’

‘Yeah. Got messy for a while there. Sorry about that.’

‘Makes sense,’ Seulgi says. ‘You won.’

‘We won. The team. But not me. Not yet anyway.’

At that Seulgi can only laugh, understanding Irene intimately enough to know what she means without having to actually say it. It’s a quick quip that puts an end to any and all conversation about racing for the time being, as much as they are both thinking about it. And as much as Irene knows the same. It tells Seulgi that tonight is about them and them only. Racing is for Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, the weekend. But this is another moment entirely and must be treated as such, the coming together of months of separate wayfinding. Coming home.

Irene shifts from one foot to the other. The glimmer in her eyes there by the pale moonlight suggests she’s thinking the same thing as Seulgi: Would it be too risky? Should I say something first? Should I just go for it? She says: ‘Shall we go in and do something? Or are we just going to stand out here all night? It’s a bit cold. And it looks like it’s going to rain again.’

‘After you,’ Seulgi says. The inside of the arcade is out of a time capsule, a fragment of a lost and nostalgic past. The lights that run overhead are neon bulbs that hum in a soft chorus of pastel pink and sunset orange and the lights on the walls glare just the same and at the far back of the room the wall is lined with great pieces of eighties artwork done in watercolour – a picture of a white Ferrari Testarossa in front of a digital neon sun, a cartoon caricature of the characters of Miami Vice, a Kavinsky album cover in a gold frame. The Midnight plays softly through the speakers. Even the games themselves have a retro feel to them, the slot machines and arcade game cabinets adorned in gaudy red and blue paint and pictures of scantily clad women from 1980s Miami and tall palm trees and funky fonts.

At the counter they pay for fifteen tokens each and spend the next ten minutes walking around absently, drifting through the aisles between the machines, studying the air hockey table and the dance mat and the rest like special exhibits on display at a museum. Navigating in silent glee the neon interior, like two lost dreamers having slept separately and yet somehow having manifested inside the same hazy and wistful vision. Seulgi stealing glances. Irene spends two of her tokens on a game of whack-a-mole and Seulgi watches as she hammers the mallet down again and again, face contorted in adorable concentration, laughing gently, like Seulgi has rarely seen her before.

Three tokens for a game of air hockey. Irene beats her twice. They play a game of Dance Dance Revolution and Seulgi beats her back and beats her again in a game of who can net the most baskets in sixty seconds and by the time they’re down to their last two tokens Seulgi knows exactly where to spend them. ‘Come on,’ she says.

‘Really now.’

‘It’ll be fun.’

‘Are you sure you want to do this?’

‘Why? You scared?’

‘No,’ Irene says with a smirk. ‘But you should be.’

‘Please. I grew up on this stuff. Although back then I didn’t have this setup or anything. But whatever.’

At the back of the room, hidden away from everything else, are two racing seats, complete with steeringwheels and pedals. The enormous screens lit in neon on the wall in front of them read GRAN TURISMO ARCADE in bold white digital font, and underneath, slightly smaller, INSERT TOKENS TO START GAME.

‘Well,’ Seulgi says, ‘what do you say? You going to chicken out on me?’

‘Right. Whatever you want. Be prepared to lose.’

It feels nothing like a Formula 1 car at all, predictably so. Seulgi adjusts in the seat and fixes the pedals and says, ‘Not quite Reve, is it?’

‘Not quite.’

‘You named your car yet?’

‘No. I don’t think I’m going to give a name for this year’s car.’

‘Why not?’

Irene shrugs, hands navigating the buttons on wheel to select her car in the game. ‘Don’t know,’ she says. ‘I guess it just wouldn’t feel right. If I haven’t thought of a name early in the season, I don’t think it feels right to give it one at the end. Plus, it’d be very short lived, seeing as the season’s over in a few days.’

‘Yeah, but still. Feels like you’re excluding it a bit if you don’t, no?’

‘Maybe. I can’t think of one, either.’

‘I like Starburst. That’s an amazing name.’

‘Yeah, but I’ve already used Starburst.’

‘How about Starburst 2?’

‘Really now,’ Irene says with a laugh.

Seulgi flicks idly through a couple menus in game, scrolling through the car selection screen. ‘Alright,’ she says. ‘Well, if you think of one, let me know. I think it’s a cute idea, naming cars. I know some people find it weird.’

‘Those people are weird, then. I bet they’d change their tune if they drove an F1 car. Ah, now this! This is what I’m talking about!’

Seulgi looks over at her screen and giggles. It’s a Nissan 180SX, identical to Irene’s real one in every way except the colour, lime green and not pure white. ‘What a beauty,’ Irene says. ‘You ready to get swept away?’

‘Give me your best shot. Which circuit?’

‘Whichever.’

They have a couple she recognises and a few that are made up as well. Eventually she picks the Night City track and they drive the three laps in dead silence except the occasional moment of laughter when one of them misses the braking point and goes slamming into the barriers or nearly spins around. Five minutes later it’s Irene crossing the line in first and Seulgi ten seconds later. Irene turns to her in the plastic seat with a smug smile. ‘What did I tell you?’ she says.

‘You had a better car.’

‘Excuses already?’

‘I’ve haven’t driven this track in years.’

‘I haven’t driven it ever.’

‘I would’ve beaten you on PlayStation.’

‘I’m sure you would’ve.’

Seulgi spends a minute just savouring the sight of her there one seat over, laughing and happy and not thinking about the racing at all. A warm thought hits her very suddenly – perhaps she was telling the truth. Perhaps the time apart has really done her some good. Perhaps she might even be okay with losing. The neon hums somewhere above her head, locked into the filament bulb casings. Over the speakers The Midnight are still playing a dreamy retro tune. A quick glance around tells Seulgi they’re the only two there. The next thought that hits her comes from nowhere. It’s sudden and hopeful and a little strange. She thinks: Maybe I’m going to spend the rest of my life with this woman.

‘You want to do something else?’ she asks.

‘Sure. Like what?’

‘I don’t know. Anything. We could get some more tokens. Or we could grab a meal. Or…you know. Go back to mine, if you wanted.’

Irene looks at her, face softening into a smile that lights up her eyes. A smile that seems to embody her entirely. ‘Let’s go for a walk first,’ she says. ‘I feel like walking. And I need to get some things off my chest.’

‘Okay.’

On the way out Seulgi thanks the man behind the counter and heads on back out into the cold and the lightlessness of the night. Away from the comfy neon. Knowing in her heart of hearts that some memories are formed out of seemingly nothing and will occur as memories only at the strangest of moments and this is one of those things. This is a memory formed out of nothing but the two of them side by side again, savouring the silence, not even holding hands, walking down the long streets intermittent in shadow and noticed by no one. Cold is the night and warm is the heart. Starlight in a velvet sky.

‘Thank you,’ Irene says softly, hands still in her pockets, looking about at nothing in content.

‘For what?’

‘For everything. For being there for me all that time. For agreeing to what I needed. For being so understanding. When I first said it to you in that room in Brazil I thought I’d made the biggest mistake of my life, but then you told me you’d do whatever as long as it helped us, and it was right there that I realised something. That it might have been the best decision of my life instead. These past two months have taught me an awful lot. I don’t even know. It’s like one day I woke up and there was this inner peace ruminating around and all I had to do was reach out and take it and I did. And here I am.’

‘I know how you feel,’ Seulgi says.

‘Yeah?’

‘I’m sort of the same. I can’t explain it either. Maybe it was because I wasn’t around you or maybe something else but I’ve never felt better. Racing, life, whatever. It’s different this time. I know I said the same last year but I mean it. This confidence isn’t fleeting. It’s not changing on a whim. It’s knowledge I didn’t have then, I think. Life goes on. All we can do is move on with it or be left behind. Things happen and these things can’t be altered and all we can do is choose to regret or choose to learn and live and get up and go for it again. And I think that’s the hardest thing about being human, is learning to get up. Is proving to yourself that it’s possible.’

‘You want to know what I think?’

‘Yeah. I do.’

Irene stops. They’re on the corner of an avenue, a solitary light behind them, watching nobody and nothing. ‘I think life is snow,’ Irene says. ‘That’s all it is. That’s what our troubles and our problems are. It’s snow. It’s always snowing. Every single day of your life. Sometimes you’ll get up and it’ll be nothing more than a couple snowflakes, a faint white shower, barely there at all. And then sometimes it’ll be a blizzard, and you’ll be snowed in, and you can either sit and wait it out or grab your shovel and plough through it. Or attempt to. And that snow never stops. Sometimes it doesn’t even thaw. It’s learning to live with it, to overcome it. Sometimes we get it wrong. Sometimes even the lightest of snows, if given enough time, if ignored for long enough, can become a blizzard. We can get snowed in by nothing at all. It’s knowing that we’ve always got that shovel on hand to dig us out of it. And we’re not alone. Everyone’s the same. I think it’s quite ironic that the thing that connects us the most is isolation. We all feel alone sometimes. Some of us for longer than others. But that’s okay. I think that’s okay.’

Seulgi just looks at her.

‘I think that’s what I figured out. That nothing is the end of the world, apart from…you know. The end of the world. My life will keep on going. Losing the championship would be a pretty heavy snowstorm. Losing you would be a blizzard. But I’ve got that shovel, you know? I’ll always have that. Maybe that’s the worst part, the shovel. You can either dig yourself out or bury yourself. But I choose the former. Every single time. I think that’s what I’ve learnt, if that makes any sense at all.’

‘It does,’ Seulgi says with a smile. ‘In a roundabout way. I know what you’re saying.’

‘I couldn’t have done this without you.’

‘Done what?’

‘Learn to be myself.’ She lifts up her leg to show Seulgi her shoe. ‘And I don’t just mean these, or my new modelling stuff, or my old friends. I mean all of it and more. Learning to be me again. To just…be, you know? That’s what I was missing, even last year. I needed to learn how to balance my life out properly. Nothing lasts forever because we don’t last forever. But we can make it last for a long time. And that’s what counts. So, yeah. Thank you.’

‘I love you so much.’

‘I love you too,’ Irene says, smiling, looking about, as if someone may be privy to them.

‘Are we back together, then? Officially, I mean.’

‘Were we ever really separated?’

‘Physically, sure.’

‘True.’ She thinks about it for a minute. Then she says, ‘Yeah. I guess we are.’

‘I still think this should’ve happened in Mexico.’

‘Maybe. But I’m glad it’s now, at home, with enough time to sit down and talk it out and be ourselves again. I feel at peace finally. I can put everything in the past to rest. God knows I’ve been trying.’

‘One more race.’

‘One more race,’ Irene repeats. ‘You ready?’

‘As I’ll ever be. Win lose or crash.’

‘I want you to know I’ll love you no matter what. Win, lose, crash.’

‘Me too. Of course I will.’

‘So,’ Irene says, grinning unapologetically, hands still stuffed deep into her pockets. ‘How about we go back to yours now?’

‘Are you ready?’

Seulgi nods, not quite sure if she’s ready at all. For some reason her hands are sweating and her feet are jittery on the pedals and her grip is extra tight on the steeringwheel, as if it might disappear if she ever lets go of it. It's the most nervous she's ever been and yet the most excited.

‘It’ll be a tough race.’

‘I know. But I can win it. I know I can.’

‘You sure about that?’

‘Yeah,’ Seulgi says. ‘I have to. I just have to.’

‘So you’ve said.’

‘I mean it.’

‘Said that, too.’

‘I can’t lose.’

‘Uh huh.’

‘This is my last chance.’

‘What? Why?’

‘I’ve got no more tokens left.’

‘Really?’ Irene says, thumbing through the selection menu on screen. ‘I’ve got, like, five left. What have you spent them all on?’

‘You know that claw machine over there near the entrance? The one with the big brown bear in it? While you were in the bathroom I asked the guy at the desk if I could just have it instead of wasting my money trying to win it, because it’s stupid and rigged.’

‘Rigged,’ Irene says, moderately amused.

‘I’m sure of it. It’s like that claw’s programmed to open at the last possible second, just to get your hopes up. It’s like gambling. I don’t agree with it at all, especially if they market it to kids with cute toys and stuff. Or even their parents. Just feels kind of iffy to me. Anyway, I asked if I could just have it and he said sure, for five tokens. So, yeah.’

‘You bought the bear?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Why?’

Seulgi shrugs shyly, eyes on the screen, pretending she doesn’t know she’s blushing a little. ‘Present for you,’ she mumbles.

‘What?’

‘I figured I’d get it as a present for you. To be cute.’

‘Well,’ Irene says, ‘I appreciate the thought. Thanks. It was pretty cute. But have you seen the size of it? It’s bigger than me.’

‘Not quite.’

‘Almost. I’m not exactly massive.’

‘Are you picking?’

‘I already have,’ Irene says. The digital screen in front of her pops up with a rotating videogame display of the lime green Nissan 180SX.

‘Again?’ Seulgi asks, choosing a car of her own.

‘It’s a classic. And it’s mine. I feel like I have a sort of emotional connection to it, you know? Even if it is a game. Kind of like my Samsung.’

‘I feel the same with Reve. Sort of.’

‘Well then, there you go. You ready to lose again?’

‘I’ve got it this time. I just know I have. I’ve learnt it. I just— no. No, wait. What are you doing? No, don’t do that. Irene! Pick the Night City one! I don’t even know what this track is!’

‘A Formula 1 driver should be able to adapt to any racing track in the world.’

‘This one doesn’t even exist! They made it up for the game! That’s unfair. I only chose this car because I thought you were going to pick the Night City.’

‘Beggars can’t be choosers,’ Irene says with a cheeky grin. She shifts in her seat and their two displays flash simultaneously and her eyes are ahead of her again. She’s still smiling. It’s a sight Seulgi wants to never end. ‘You know we’re not going to see each other this weekend, right? Until Sunday night, after the race celebrations. Just like last year.’

‘Yeah,’ says Seulgi. ‘I know. I’m fine with it. It’s better that way. And I don’t think people would like the idea of the two of us being around each other on race weekend anyway. Would send out the wrong sort of message, I think.’

Irene hums in agreement. ‘When this is all done,’ she says, ‘when the season’s over, I want to have a big talk about all this.’

‘About what?’

‘Us. About what we can be and what I want us to be.’

‘So do I.’

‘I’ll love you even if you beat me. Which you won’t, but I’m just saying.’

‘Are you talking about for the championship? Or right now? Because we’re gonna run our tokens out soon. I’m pretty sure they’re on a timer.’

‘Come on,’ Irene says, feet on her pedals, grinning ear to ear. ‘Show me why they call you Dynamite.’

‘I bet I can beat you on Night City.’

‘Oh yeah? How about this, then? I’ve got five tokens – we play one more round on Night City, and if you win, you get to keep that bear.’

‘But I bought it for you.’

‘Still. And if I win, I get it.’

‘That’s stupid,’ Seulgi says. ‘Doesn’t even make sense. But sure. I like a good wager. I’m warning you, though. I’ve learnt Night City by now. I’m a driving queen on that track.’

‘Uh huh,’ Irene says, stifling a giggle. And half an hour later, walking out of the arcade under a burning velvet skyline, she’s carrying her new enormous brown bear in both arms.