Warning(s): cursing
Length: 12.3k words

There are two cars parked adjacent of each other. Both have a boy sitting on their hoods. The one on the left has outrageously red hair that matches the color of his car, and his laugh is so loud that it seems to echo through the empty fields surrounding him. Meanwhile, the one on the right is quiet—and not just in sound. Unlike the vibrant boy sitting next to him, the one on the right is dressed in nothing but black: black beanie, black bomber, black jeans. Even his car has black rims.

There are two cars parked adjacent of each other, and both have a boy sitting on their hoods, but only one of those boys is Baekhyun. Only one has viscerally affected Ange in a way that she never thought possible, and it’s not the boy who comes running to her, pleading with apology; it’s the boy who acts like he can’t feel a thing, the boy with a strong forehead and brow that he often hides, the boy who torturously keeps himself at bay. The B in Baekhyun stands for blasé, remember?

Ange barely listens to the red-haired boy as he babbles since she’s too busy looking at Baekhyun. He’s staring right back at her, undoubtedly recalling everything that has transposed in the last month.

“I’m so sorry that I had to cancel. I-I-I-I really wanted to hang out with you, but-but you know how it is.”

Mark is still stammering over his words, and Ange is trying not to smile because Baekhyun is sitting just a few meters away on the hood of his pretty Supra—and he’s not trying to suppress anything like she is. He sits there like a king, his legs parted, and chin slightly raised in a show of knowingness. Even in a such an open setting flanked merely by sky and land, the air still manages to grow thick with tension, and it’s all because of him.

“It’s fine, Mark,” Ange reassures the boy for the third time. “There’s more weekends in the year for us to hang out.” Before he has the chance to apologize for the fourth time, however, Ange walks over to Baekhyun who has now uncrossed his arms. He smiles at her, and she feels her cheeks burn with information undisclosed to Mark. “H-Hey,” she says to Baekhyun. “Are we doing any work today?”

Today is that Friday—the Friday of the monthly street race hosted by the apparent gangs of Daegu. Ange assumes that’s why Mark is here with his red Chevrolet and why Baekhyun has taken his Supra out of its usual place in the rear garage; they must be running practice laps together, right?

“No, we were just taking a break,” Baekhyun answers. “I’m practicing my handles for the tight corners.”

“Tonight, it’s closed circuit,” Mark interjects, and Ange turns to him for explanation. “They have certain streets closed so we can use them as a track. It goes all the way from—”

“Mark,” Baekhyun interrupts by clearing his throat, “get me some water.”

“O-Oh, sure, boss, I’ll be right back.”

With Baekhyun’s simple request, Mark runs off into the distance, his red hair bouncing as he takes a stride. That leaves Ange alone with Baekhyun, and it’s at that point that she can no longer contain her emotions. One look at Baekhyun’s calmly grinning face, and her façade is suddenly breaking.

“Why’re you smiling so much?” Ange teases him. “Are you even actually thirsty or did you just want Mark to shut up?”

“Something like that.” Baekhyun moves his body to make room for her on the hood of his car. “Come on. Don’t just stand there. I feel weird.”

“You feel weird? I feel weird,” Ange remarks. “You’re always telling me not to get any of your cars dirty.”

“Well, everything’s different today. Tonight…” Baekhyun takes a sharp intake of breath that coincides with the breeze. It’s almost March so the wind’s bite doesn’t cut as deep as it does in January, but it’s enough to make Ange shiver. She keeps her legs crossed as she joins him on his car. “Tonight’s the last the race in Korea for a while,” Baekhyun continues in a quiet voice. “Next month, they’re saying Dubai, and after that, they’re thinking about Manila.”

Dubai? Manila? You mean I’m not going to see you? As much as Ange wants to ask Baekhyun about the possible new locations of the races that he’s mentioning, she’s more concerned about not seeing him for extended periods of time.

“Who’s ‘they’ and why do they have races out of the country?” Ange queries instead. “Do I have to be worried about not seeing you again?”

Baekhyun lets out a breathy chuckle. “I’m not leaving the country, Angel. I’m just saying—I might be gone for a few days at a time.”

“But why? Why are they making the races there and not here?”

“Because I don’t know the roads there, and I know someone’s praying that I’ll crash.” Baekhyun sighs deeply and shakes his head. Like usual, he just feels so far away despite being physically present. Ange wants to comfort him, but there’s no comforting a person whose mind is worried and stretched thin over a hundred other things. “This is the dirty part of racing here,” Baekhyun grumbles. “The rich s can never get enough, so people like me get ed.”

“But you’re good though, aren’t you? You’re the best, right?” Ange can only look to Baekhyun’s furrowed brows for answers because he has his head low. “Right? Baekhyun?”

“Manifest it,” he murmurs after a moment. He straightens his slumped back and rises to his feet. When Ange turns to follow suit, she notices that Mark is back with a bottle of water.

“I’m sorry, boss,” Mark says, “but the water in the fridge wasn’t cold enough—”

“It’s fine,” Baekhyun waves him off. “I’m not that thirsty. Let’s do some more laps.”

“But boss—”

“Come on, Mark, we don’t have all day.”

Ange hops off the hood of Baekhyun’s car when it’s clear that they’re really about to start more practice laps. Baekhyun is already in his driver seat, and Mark looks at his boss and down at the water bottle in his hand but ultimately turns and walks to his car. They leave Ange standing awkwardly by herself until Baekhyun lowers his window.

“Hey, Angel,” Baekhyun shouts, drawing her attention. “Go stand over there.” Ange looks at where his finger is pointing: a crudely drawn white line on the cracking asphalt. “Be the flag girl,” Baekhyun says, “and start the lap for us.”

Flag girl?

“I-I-I don’t have a flag, though,” Ange stammers. “How—”

“Your arm,” Baekhyun assures her with a playful roll of his eyes. He laughs upon her realization and drives his car forward to the white line. Mark follows him there, leaving Ange to speed walk to catch up.

When Ange does reach the white line, she thinks about the few movies that she has seen with street races and how there’s always a pretty girl with a short skirt and a crop top that starts the race. The girl almost always has some sort of flag that she uses, but in the cases that she doesn’t have one, also uses her arms. It seems simple enough to Ange, but her cheeks burn with slight embarrassment because she knows that she’s not as pretty as those girls in those movies. What’s worse is that she’s starting a race between two boys who have intertwined themselves in her life; it would be easier if they were merely strangers.

“Do you know how to count off?” Mark yells from his car, and Ange glares at him through squinted eyes.

“Mark, I’m not stupid,” Ange yells back. “I know what I’m doing!”

But does she really?

Ange takes a deep breath as she eyes Baekhyun and Mark through the windshields of their cars. Mark looks more tense than Baekhyun, and Ange can clearly see that he has his hand fisted around his steering wheel in a vice-like grip. On the other hand, Baekhyun watches her carefully, like he’s more interested in anticipating her next actions than what he has to do—and unlike Mark, Baekhyun is tapping his fingers against his steering wheel. While Mark twists his mouth and takes heaving breaths, Baekhyun remains unblinking as he openly stares at her.

“Ready?” Ange murmurs at first, but Baekhyun raises his brow so she takes a deep breath and raises her voice. “Ready?” She’s yelling now, and so are the cars of the two boys.

Baekhyun’s Supra sounds about a hundred times fiercer than any of his other cars, and it’s terrifying to Ange that she can feel its engine vibrations on her ribs. In addition, Mark’s Camaro only pours more fuel to the flame in her stomach by contributing to the hearty sound of revving engines. Ange is standing a good half-meter away from both cars, but the heat and sound that they emanate disturbs her, ruins her equilibrium, and sends her into an entirely different universe where the tension poisons the air to the point of suffocation.

Indeed, it is hard to breathe.

“Set…”

Ange raises her arms in the air, and the sound of the engines grow louder. Her heart pounds as she glances at Baekhyun who has stopped tapping his fingers. He stares right back at her, but like all those other times, his eyes don’t merely make contact with hers; they peer farther, dig deeper—almost as if he’s looking directly into her soul. That very gaze, with those dark eyes, almost makes Ange forget what she’s doing, but Baekhyun presses harder into his gas pedal and causes his engine to roar.

Like that, she’s back.

“GO!”

Ange snaps her arms down to her side, and the two cars flanking her zoom forward. In less than two seconds, both Baekhyun and Mark are several dozen meters behind her and quickly widening the already broad gap. Pretty soon, the cars are only small dots in the horizon.

Taking a shaky step back from the paved asphalt, Ange relaxes her tense shoulders and releases the pressure in her clenched jaw.

She hates fast cars. Her parents died because of a fast car. She got a panic attack and out in a fast car. She hates them. They’re nothing but trouble. Fast cars never led to good outcomes—only accidents and reports of crashes. That’s all that comes out of driving fast cars: accidents, crashes, and ultimately death. Right? She hates them for that. A fast car was the reason her parents died. She hates fast cars. Right?

Yeah, I hate fast cars, Ange thinks.

- - - - -

Baekhyun wins the small race against Mark—inevitably. While Mark walks out of his car looking dejected, Baekhyun strides out and makes a beeline for Ange. He’s all smiles and laughter as Mark opens the water bottle from earlier and drinks it in silence.

“Angel,” Baekhyun says, already walking her back to his workshop, “you saw that, right? Pretty impressive, don’t you think?”

Ange giggles and looks over her shoulder to see Mark sulking by his car. “Yeah, I guess, but you were literally racing against your assistant,” she teases. “You beat him by 30 seconds, but aren’t you supposed to?”

“Fair enough. I guess it’s you that I have to please instead of the crowd tonight.”

“Anything you’ll do will impress me,” Ange assures Baekhyun. Only a few minutes ago, Baekhyun swerved his car—“drifted” as Ange recalls him explaining to her one day—in a showman-like performance to add insult to injury as he beat Mark’s finishing time by a lot. Ange, of course, didn’t keep time, but Baekhyun had been counting. In fact, 35 seconds was the first thing that he yelled out of his window when Mark’s car crossed the finishing line. “I’m easily amused,” Ange continues. “Just beat everyone, and I’ll think you’re a legend.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Baekhyun leads her past his collection of cars and into the upstairs section that serves as his storage-turned-living-quarters. Although Ange has only been up here a few times, his bed is always made, and everything is as neat as can be. “By the way, Miss I-Love-Puffy-Jackets, help me out,” Baekhyun says as he opens a tall wardrobe. “What should I wear for tonight?”

Ange’s mouth falls slightly ajar upon seeing what appears to be all of Baekhyun’s clothes for the first time. As much as her heart races at his new nickname for her, she’s more invested in having the opportunity to see another small detail about him. The first impression that she gets is that he really doesn’t care much for what he wears since her wardrobe holds about five times more than his does. Her second impression is that he loves the color back. In fact, more than a hefty 80-percent of his clothes are completely black. 15-percent are a mix of dark colors—mostly dark blue, but there are also some dark reds and dark greens—and the remaining is a jumbled mess of light colors that range from washed-out blue jeans to white dress shirts that Ange would have never guessed him to own.

“Do you only have like three pairs of jeans?” Ange asks out loud. She doesn’t mean for it to sound offensive, but Baekhyun replies in a clearly defensive stance.

“I asked you for advice on what I should wear,” Baekhyun states. “I didn’t ask for judgement, Angel.”

“Right, right…” Ange coughs awkwardly and quickly makes herself seem busy with sifting through his clothes. “What’s the dress code?”

“Anything that’ll look good for a street race and an afterparty.”

Afterparty? Ange has to admire how confident Baekhyun is in his driving abilities. He’s already anticipating an afterparty despite the race not having started yet.

“Okay, I can think of something…” Ange hums to herself as she picks through Baekhyun’s rather simple collection of clothing. It’s not that he’s wearing the same thing every day; it’s that he has multiple and identical black t-shirts, so there isn’t much variation in his wardrobe. However, he’s not completely hopeless since Ange quickly finds something that catches her eye. “Um, why don’t you wear colors more often? This shirt—” She takes out a blue, long-sleeved and satin button-up. “—would look so good on you.”

“I don’t like that shirt, though.”

“Why do you have it then?”

Baekhyun completely ignores her perfectly reasonable question and takes out a black bomber jacket almost identical to the one that he’s already wearing. “What about this? This is one of my favorites, and it’s warm too.”

“It looks like the one that you have on.”

“No, it doesn’t. This one gives off a different mood.”

“Uh, no, it doesn’t,” Ange retorts. Baekhyun doesn’t seem too open to her suggestion of wearing the navy-blue satin button-up, however, so she puts it back into his wardrobe. “Whatever,” she mutters. “Just wear what you want since being edgy in all-black is your signature, Lux.”

Ange feels Baekhyun’s eyes on her, but she ignores it and pretends to be more interested in the fact that he arranges his clothes from darkest to least dark. On the very left side of his wardrobe are all of his black clothing, and on the very right are the few white shirts that he owns. It amuses her that he would sort out his clothes like that since he doesn’t seem to put much thought in how scary he perpetually looks by choosing to wear black all the time.

“I can come, right?” Ange asks after a few moments of silence. “To your race?”

“As long as you don’t get yourself into trouble, yeah, I can get Mimi to drive you to a good spot.”

Wait a second… Mimi?

Ange feels her stomach drop. Although she has never had an active urge to pursue finally obtaining her driver’s license, she feels one now. Oh, how she wishes that she had a license so that she wouldn’t need to have Mimi drive her.

“Why can’t you drive me?” Ange inquires with an arched brow. “Am I too much of a liability for you or what?”

Again, Ange doesn’t mean for it to sound so offensive, but Baekhyun stares at her like she just called him a . “No,” Baekhyun claims. “What the hell—Angel. It’s closed-circuit, so we’ll be driving around town. You’ll better off watching from a high place than where the actual race starts.” He tilts his head to get a better look at her. “I can drive you to the start, though, if that’s what you want—and if you wanna chill with Mark there, that’s fine too.”

Ange wants to slap her forehead in shame. She’s making it too obvious that hearing Mimi’s name causes her to feel unsolicited anger. Baekhyun’s explanation makes perfect sense, and now she looks like an idiot.

“I’ll just go with Mimi,” Ange murmurs. “Can you introduce us first, though? I—”

“She already knows you, don’t worry about it.”

“What do you mean—”

Baekhyun shoves the jacket that he had been holding back into his closet. “Do you think maybe I should just wear a sweater? Or would that make me look too nice?”

Ange purses her lips, disappointed, at Baekhyun’s evasion of her questions. “Wear that shirt I pulled out or just wear something with color. You wear black too much, and as long as you push your hair out of your face, you won’t look like a honeybun.”

Baekhyun freezes in place and turns to Ange with furrowed brows. “Honeybun?” he whispers the word at first, seemingly unsure of what it is or what it means. “Honeybun,” he repeats. Then he tilts his head, once more looking like Ange has deeply offended him—only this time, he looks more surprised than anything. “You think I look like a honeybun?”

The pure innocence of the question paired with the setting—he’s Byun Baekhyun, and he’s getting ready for an illegal street race with extremely high stakes—is so ridiculous to Ange that she sputters out a laugh.

“Yeah,” she mumbles, trying to stifle more laughter. “Good luck with the outfit, Baekhyun. I’m going to check on Mark.”

- - - - -

“Should I be worried about you going out nearly every Friday and Saturday night now?” Kyungsoo leans his shoulder against the doorframe of Ange’s bedroom as she finishes zipping up her boots. Since the forecast for late in the night includes the very last tidbits of February snow, she decides to go along with a pair of black thigh-highs to match her feathery jacket. “Also, should I be worried that you’re dressing like that to allegedly meet some mysterious friend?”

“I’m not going on a date,” Ange reassures her brother. She takes a lint-roller and makes sure that there isn’t any hair on her coral pink dress. “I told you. Her name is Mimi, and she works with Baekhyun too, so I trust her. We’re literally just going out to do…girly stuff, you know? That’s why I wanna dress up.”

“Mmhmm.” Kyungsoo is going off with his big brother voice again. “What happened to that Mark kid, by the way? You still hang out with him?”

“Sometimes.” Ange grabs her phone from its charging stand and shoves it inside the inner pocket of her jacket. Kyungsoo is blocking the doorway, so she’s left to stand there and look at him while he disapproves of her outfit with his mere gaze. “Kyungsoo,” Ange pleads, “I’m 20. You can’t keep telling me that I can’t dress a certain way—and this dress isn’t that bad because it’s freezing out.” Kyungsoo continues to look at her with doubt, so she starts whining. “You’re being stupid again, Soo. I’m an adult now. I can—”

“Listen,” Kyungsoo interrupts softly, “I know. Okay? I know. I’m just looking out for you since it’s dangerous out.”

“I already know that, though. You don’t—”

“Ange, listen to me.” Kyungsoo takes off his glasses, and he only ever does it when he’s about to say something that’s actually quite serious. Her attention having now piqued, Ange relaxes her shoulders to hear what he has to say. “There’s a lot of bad people out there, alright? Sometimes you think a person is your friend, someone you can trust until bam.” He claps his hands together for effect. “The worst betrayals are always from people that you’re closest to.”

Ange takes a moment to absorb the words. She knows what they mean after a second, but she doesn’t know how to apply them to herself even after a minute. Well, she does, but she doesn’t want to think about that—about a reality where Kyungsoo knows about Baekhyun and Baekhyun’s life. That would mean he—her brother—willingly allowed her to work with only the city’s (maybe the country’s) most famous street racer. It’s a reality too farfetched, however, so Ange rules that out and assumes that he’s warning her about her own ability to make friends too easily.

“Okay,” she mumbles. “I’ll keep that in my mind.”

“That’s right,” Kyungsoo says, finally allowing her to walk past him. “Be aware of who your real friends are.”

“Alright, alright, I got it.” Ange checks her phone for Mimi’s text message. When Baekhyun gave her Mimi’s number, he said that she’d text her upon arrival. “I’ll be fine, Soo. You’ve taught me that already.”

“Oh, and if I don’t answer your calls in time, call Baekhyun. He’s a good guy, and I really trust him.”

Ange smiles, and it’s not just because Mimi has finally sent her a text; it’s also because Kyungsoo brought up Baekhyun. Baekhyun—whether he’s Lux or himself—is indeed a good guy. With that, she turns to her brother who has joined her by the entrance to his apartment and gives him a crushing hug. While he huffs at the suddenness, she squeezes harder.

“Thanks, Kyungsoo,” she whispers before pulling away. “I’ll try not to stay out too late.”

“You better not, Ange, or I swear….”

After bidding Kyungsoo goodnight and having him watch her cross the street to where Mimi has parked her silver Hyundai, Ange joins Mimi in the warmth of her car. Upon closing the door, Ange immediately notices the little bits of personality that Mimi has placed into her car. Like Yuqi on that night when she also gave Ange a ride, Mimi’s dashboard has an array of KakaoTalk Friends bobbleheads. In the ventilation shaft of the middle console is a red plug-in that makes the car smell like strawberries. Hanging from the rearview mirror is a small crescent moon necklace that swings back and forth. The last thing that Ange takes note of is a parking ticket’s yellow edges peeking out of the glovebox.

“Hey,” Ange says as she buckles her seatbelt. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Likewise,” Mimi beams back. Her cheeks mold into little balls when she smiles. “Are you going to the afterparty by any chance?”

“Uh, yeah, why?”

“Oh, it just looks like you’re dressed for it.” Mimi gestures to herself and her simpler outfit—dark jeans and a red hoodie. Unlike Ange, she isn’t wearing much makeup either. In fact, Ange can only make out the soft shine on her lips as clear lip gloss, and the blush on her cheeks seems to be a product of the cold than actual cosmetics. “Are you going with Lux?”

“Uh, yeah, something like that.”

Truth be told, Ange (once again, to the point that it should be no surprise) has no idea of what she’s doing or what she intends to do, but she’s the type to just go for it and see what happens.

“Cool,” Mimi remarks absentmindedly, already starting to drive down the street. “So, luckily there’s a lot of tall buildings where we can see the race from, and they always have people livestreaming from drones too, so I don’t think we’ll have a problem with watching.”

“Sounds good.”

Ange cringes inwardly at their stilted conversation but keeps herself composed to save face. Although Mimi seems nice enough on the outside, Ange still has to put up a fight against the unexplainable jealousy and anger that she feels in this moment. It’s absolutely irrational, but it makes her uncomfortable to sit in the same car as the other girl that Baekhyun was texting. Ange doesn’t even know what they were texting about, and she doesn’t have much proof of a relationship between the two, but she somehow feels bitter.

“So where are you from?” Mimi asks to break the silence. “I’m from Vietnam.”

“I’m from here,” Ange replies with a shrug. “My parents are from Seoul, and I’ve been living in Korea for most of my life, but I was born in France. That’s why my mom named me after the word for Angel. Ahnjj.”

“Ange,” Mimi says out loud, mimicking the way Ange said it with a slight French accent. “It’s good to hear you say it since I’ve only heard Baekhyun call you Angel, and I’m pretty sure that Mark’s been pronouncing it wrong.”

“Oh, he definitely has. It’s kinda cute though, so I don’t really mind.”

The conversation halts there again, and Ange would much rather prefer to jump out of the car than stay inside to bear the awkward silence. Fortunately, Mimi is already pulling up to a small apartment building that’s only a few streets away from a main road that has already been barricaded to form a pathway.

“That’s the starting and finishing line,” Mimi says. “That intersection right there.”

Mimi doesn’t specify which intersection she’s talking about, but she doesn’t have to; crowds of people congregate by a particular street, and there are already cars as elegant as Baekhyun’s waiting on the starting line. Ange doesn’t spot his black Supra, but she does catch a glimpse of what appears to be Mark’s red Camaro parked on the sidelines.

“Do you know if Lux’s here yet?” Ange queries while she cranes her head for one last glance.

“No, he usually comes last minute because that’s when the most people are watching.”

Mimi parks her car outside of the apartment building that seems to act as a host venue for viewing the street race. There are at least a few dozen chattering people loitering in the parking lot, and Ange assumes them to be illegal gamblers. Once inside the actual building and in the elevator leading to the roof, it’s no different. Ange and Mimi share their elevator with a raucous group of teenage boys talking about stats—and Lux is the most frequent name that they use besides Loey.

Upon exiting the elevator, Ange is surprised by the new atmosphere that seems to have overtaken the roof. When she roamed the rooftops of Paris back in France, it was usually dark and dirty—and very lonely even if she went with a group of friends. However, tonight, this rooftop in downtown Daegu is positively alive.

People have set up blankets and beanbags by the edges of the rooftop closest to the main road while others are fixing together a wall of television screens with live feeds of the skyline. Ange also spots a select few individuals with their laptops poised on one leg while the other has a drone. What’s even more is impressive is that there are actually people who have brought portable grills up there and are now cooking and selling meals. There’s even a guy selling soju out of crates. It’s nothing like Ange has ever seen up close in her life, and it opens her eyes to what the world has become.

It’s 2060, the world ended decades ago, and this mixture of doing what’s right and what feels right is the new norm. Everyone knows that street racing is illegal, yet here they all are.

“Does this happen every month?” Ange asks Mimi as they take up an unoccupied area by the northeast corner of the roof. From here, they have a clear view of the intersection where the race begins. “People just get together on rooftops?”

“Yeah, it’s been like this since the Great Famine apparently.”

“It’s really cool,” Ange remarks, genuinely impressed by the micro-community that has formed here for the night.

“Yeah, it’s really chill. People say it’s dangerous to go out at night, but they have no idea that there’s still a lot of decent people left in the world.” Mimi starts fumbling around in her tote bag and takes out a small pair of binoculars. She hands it to Ange who takes it with great curiosity. “That’s for the race, by the way,” Mimi explains as she continues ruffling through her bag before taking out a box of Pepero sticks. “Maybe you can spot Lux now.”

At the mention of the ever-mysterious Lux, Ange quickly peers through Mimi’s binoculars to observe the race that’s just about to begin.

It takes Ange a moment to adjust the focus of the binoculars, but when she does, she almost immediately finds Lux leaning against his black Supra. She has to take a breath to absorb the sight of him because like the shock that