“Maybe I was letting him!”

“But you-“

“Just because my sodding eye is doesn’t mean I’m a saint!”

Jiyong threw the packet of rambling psychology and stormed from the testing center. It wasn’t like he even needed psych.

Before the door even shut entirely he was drawing a lit stick closer. The filter on his lips was comfort but the anger remained. Smoking was dirty and terrible. He loved it. No one really looked at him and thought of him as a smoker.

“Hey saggy trousers. Can I bum a smoke?”

Saggy trousers? Was this sod checking him out? He shook the thought away. Not every cute boy was constantly checking him out.

The voice was small and came from a crippled guy in a wheelchair who was taking the psych exam Jiyong had just blown.

He didn’t look like a smoker either and he didn’t comment on his eye. Jiyong passed him the cigarette. He took a long drag and went back to his test.

“Did you even study?” Jiyong accused.

“Excuse me?”

“Night terrors only happen in stage four of sleep,” Jiyong said. “You’d have to be a sodding idiot not to know that.” He took another drag from his before crushing the rest under his shoe.

“Thanks,” was all he said.

He didn’t ask about the yelling inside the classroom or anything else. Jiyong had a feeling it wasn’t because he was being polite but because he didn’t truly care about either.

“Were you born crippled?”

“No.” He answered C on question twenty-four and turned the page.

“Car wreck?”

“Look, you may not care about this test but I do. I’m almost finished then I’ll tell you the sob story about poor Seunghyun wrecking his Porsche.”

“What makes you think I don’t care about the test?” he fumed.

“I heard you storm out. Something about you cheating, or not cheating. Twelve questions to go. Shut up, will ya?” The words would seem harsh from anyone else but Seunghyun just sounded bored. Jiyong was doing his best to piss the boy off but nothing

 “You should be more careful driving a Porsche. That’s a once in a lifetime car.”

“You don’t even know the car. What do you know about Porsches?” There was a twinge of anger this time.

“That they cost more then my flat and Citroen combined.”

Seunghyun scoffed, “Citroen.”

He seemed to not even read the last three questions but answered them at random.

“I crashed the Boxster. The ing boxster. Not even the 911. Have you driven a 911? Course you haven’t,” he answered his self.

Jiyong was about to start raging but was cut off before he could start.

“911s are back heavy and the handling is hardly existent. Boxsters are supposed to be the stable cars.”

This comment was not directed at Jiyong, he could tell. It seemed Seunghyun  was yelling at himself and it made Jiyong shift in place, not sure what to do.

“But all Porsches are good cars, right?”

“Oh sod off,” he said. He placed his test on the desk next to his chair and started to wheel away.

Jiyong followed, holding the chair back, halting it.

“Let go.”

“Let me drive you home.” Jiyong didn’t want to drive Seunghyun home but he was sure it would piss the kid off more. It did.

“I said, sod off, wanker!” He yanked the chair forward and kept rolling away.

“The name’s Jiyong!” he called after the other.

He heard the laugh and “chick name” he let follow.

“It’s Korean! Get over it!” but Jiyong would rather people to sneer at his name then his face, so he smiled and walked to his P.O.S. ancient Citroen and drove home. He watched Top Gear with his mum and thought about the cute boy who loved cars he could no longer drive.

The next week Seunghyun let Jiyong drive him home.

“Ten quid that your mum is on her way here right now to pick you up.”

The boy pulled the note from his pocket and pressed it to the other’s chest before rolling out of the classroom. This classroom was wheelchair accessible unlike the testing center from last week.

Jiyong pocketed the money and tried to catch up.

“Go on. Another tenner about the car she drives. BMW?”

Seunghyun stopped, held his hand out for his money back. “Jaguar.” Jiyong passed it over, cursing.

“But you’d give anything to be driving yourself home.”

Seunghyun  passed the money back over to Jiyong, this time in unspoken defeat.

They reached the parking lot and Seunghyun checked his phone, sighing.

“Come off it. Let me drive you.”

They weren’t that close but it was closer then Jiyong had been with anyone since his accident. He was used to feeding his need for social interaction with angry out bursts and telly with his mum.

“She’s running late.”

“Brilliant.”

Jiyong had to lift the boy into the passenger seat when they got to the car. It felt intimate. Seunghyun was small and vulnerable in his arms as he settled him into the seat. Jiyong had all this control and power there but it was not one of those times he felt like pissing Seunghyun off.

Seunghyun didn’t say thank you. He avoided eye contact and pulled his arms away from Jiyong’s neck quickly, switching to nervously tugging at his shirtsleeves, and Jiyong let him. He knew how it felt to have someone treat you different because of a disability and you actually needed them to.

So once Jiyong started the car and pulled out on the street he welcomed the insults about his piece of e Citroren.

“I mean listen to it rattle! A bloody diesel! If I had known I would have wheeled myself home rather then ride in this thing. And how old is the engine? You’ve must have mucked it up! If it didn’t sound like that when it was actually made.”

“Don’t know. Bought it used.”

“.” He said it as if Jiyong had admitted to living on the streets.

“Well, it’s no wonder really. Who would want to keep such a crap car? And an automatic! Left hand drive! What are you, American?” Seunghyun continued.

It sounded like he thought he was talking to a piss-ant, the way any up prat would address others rather then someone talking to a nearly blind kid. Most pitied Jiyong for his eye. If this kid were to pity Jiyong, it wouldn’t be because of his eye. It was comfortable to be mates with Seunghyun though he was a snob. They both let the awkward moment slide unaddressed, starting in on the insults the rest of the world was to afraid to say to the disabled kids.

But there was a small part of Jiyong that didn’t think like a mate. A part that was aware of their close proximity and wanted it to be smaller. The same part that wished he was driving a right hand drive car so Seunghyun wasn’t hiding in his blind spot. The same part that motivated Jiyong to get out of bed and care about something. Seunghyun gave Jiyong motivation for the first time in a long time.

“It was cheap, with free insurance and I can’t drive manual so-“ but he was cut off with a,

“You can’t drive manual? You can’t drive manual?”  It was as if Jiyong had admitted to murder.

“Uhh… no?”

Seunghyun ’s house was three story brick with a yard and drive. The garage fit five cars. Jiyong suddenly felt insignificant in his ratty sweatshirt and trainers. His Citroen’s chipped paint drew more attention then the bloody Queen would have on this street.

Jiyong must have been gawking because Seunghyun  was getting impatient for an answer to an unheard question.

“What?” Jiyong finally asked after turning the engine off.

“Will you? Let me teach you to drive? Manual I mean.”

There was a bright spark in the usually flat brown eyes. The only time there was any emotion there was when he was angry and Seunghyun was far from angry now.

And Jiyong felt the spark come to his own eyes when the garage door opened and he got a look inside.

The first week practicing they drove the Jaguar. The next week they crashed the Jaguar. The third week they sat in the Aston Martin and ate pistachios.

“Driving was all I ever cared about. That was it. That’s all my friends cared about. Still do. Or maybe they don’t. Don’t talk to them anymore.” The anger smoldered in Seunghyun ’s eyes again.

“All my friends are in Basic training. That’s all we cared about.”

Seunghyun  stayed quiet, waiting for more. It was the first time Jiyong had talked about himself outside his crap car and loving mother.

“We trained together every day. We all wanted different things after basic training but we had each other for that first bit at least.” Jiyong sighed, the salt from a nut and looked out at the garage. His bedroom was smaller.

“One day we were helping this old lady shovel snow from her yard. For service hours. Our attentions couldn’t hold longer then twenty minutes with all us and the snow. We started a snowball fight. I was too near the house. Slipped on some ice and I rattled the whole thing. An icicle hit my eye.”

Seunghyun winced and dug his nails into his limp legs.

“I don’t remember much at that point. Just waking up in the hospital sopping wet in melted snow and blood with an icicle still in my eye. I had to be awake when they pulled it out. They did their best to recover what they could. Offered to take it out and put in a glass one. I didn’t, obviously. The gore-fest was too good to turn down.

“My friends got me an eye patch and we had a good laugh. They didn’t abandon me. Not until they left for training.”

“What did you want to do? What division?” Seunghyun said. His voice was barely there. He clearly wanted to know more but didn’t want to push to hard.

“Air force. Royal Air Force. That’s where I was headed. Wanted to put the sky below me and protect the people.”

It grew quiet in the cab except the cracking of the shell of the green nuts.

“I came home, after the hospital, and all my walls were bare. My mum took down the posters of the jets and Royal Air Force. I didn’t even get to decide to give up on my dream. It was snatched away.”

“I couldn’t even reach to pull down my posters. They were left up. ‘You can learn to use hand controls! You can still drive!’ Rubbish. Have you driven with hand controls? They don’t make manual transitions with hand controls!”

How had the conversation switched from Jiyong back to Seunghyun? He was about to protest, looking at Seunghyun’s lips flying a mile a minute and looking more and more plump with use as he kept plowing through how disappointing his life was since his crash.

So Jiyong shut him up.

He pressed their lips together, causing the brown eyes before him to go wide and crackle with the spark he loved so much. When they pulled apart Jiyong said,

“Will you shut up?”

The next week the Jaguar was fixed and they were back to work because now they were working for something. Track Days was having a disabled race day and they were going. They would drive to North Yorkshire and race all day if they could.

The week before track days they drove to Manchester. Seunghyun  drove his car, an Aston that had no back seat so his chair could fit easily. They spent the day fighting, insulting, smoking, and snogging.

They also discussed what they wanted to do. Not wanted to do in Manchester but for the future. Neither of them enjoyed their classes at their community college. Going to college like this wasn’t even a ghost of an idea before either of them were forced to “get on with it and do something.”

“We could travel.” Seunghyun suggested.

Jiyong wasn’t sure when “we” had happened but he wasn’t about to push it away. He hadn’t actually thought about doing anything with his life after he lost his eye. Only getting out of bed just so he could get back into it again. He didn’t much care for food anymore, eating only when his mother placed the food in front of him. Not cutting his hair, letting it grow out long and shaggy to his shoulders.

But he was a ‘we’ now and he ate two hamburgers and a coke that day to celebrate this.

“Only a rich wanker like you can afford a ‘career’ like that. And your mum would be all for it. ‘Seunghyun! I’m so proud of you! You get out there and see the world! Buy mummy a paper weight- ouch!”

Seunghyun’s arms were no joke, due to all the carting himself around, so receiving a punch to the chest could knock any grown man over. Jiyong pulled himself from the ground, making sure to wipe his dirty hands on Seunghyun’s shiny shoes where he couldn’t reach. Seunghyun flipped Jiyong off right in his blind spot, their usual banter.

“Well we could always do something like write about our travels. For Discovery or something. ‘The Cripple and the One Eyed Wonder Climb the Eiffel Tower” That will sell.”

“How do you expect to climb the Eiffel Tower?”

“You’ll carry me of course.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Seunghyun’s eyes burned again with that enthusiastic flame, so who was Jiyong to deny him. He yanked the boy from his seat next to him and pulled him onto his lap for more heated kissing.

Seunghyun was noticeably nervous the morning they visited the track. He went through three cigarettes, no stopping or sharing, to Jiyong’s dismay. He made Jiyong drive, claiming he needed more practice before stepping foot in a super car. Apparently the Jaguar, with its British engineering, was very forgiving and easy to drive. Once the car was all about lightweight build and speed, he would have a hard time.

There were groups of men with various disabilities all over the building. Some smoking, all chatting and laughing. Neither Seunghyun or Jiyong had the desire to join them or become part of a permanent group. This was about them and their own thrills. No one else.

They paid their money and were taken to choose their cars. Seunghyun refused to let Jiyong into anything Italian, claiming if his hand had touched a Citroen in the last 24 hours then the car would burst into flames.

Jiyong was shaking behind the wheel of a Porsche 911 GT3, not quite grasping the full intensity of the car outside of the fact that it had to be close to the one that Seunghyun had crashed.

Thankfully he was in a car that had standard controls but he was lost at the barrenness. The car was stripped to make it as light as possible. The only different thing was the mirrors to enable him to see from all angles despite his bum eye. He felt a bit strange on the right, and proper, according to Seunghyun, side of the car though he’d driven that way before.

The track was hazy and swirling in front of Jiyong and he hadn’t even put the car into gear yet. He looked down at the gearbox and thought he might be sick.

But then he saw a fire red Ferrari blaze the track, gaining speed faster then Jiyong knew possible. He knew the car could do that but he didn’t really know until he saw it. And he wanted it. Jiyong wanted the same power and speed and weightlessness that had been promised to him.

And then taken away by a ing icicle.

Jiyong inhaled and pulled his car out onto the track, making sure to gain speed quickly as to not get flattened by the other cars. The Ferrari zoomed by again and he saw the mop of ridiculous dark hair he knew belonged to Seunghyun whip around the edges of the dorky white helmet and Jiyong let his breath slide out in a groan. If Seunghyun could do this, face this weird, distorted version of his dreams, so could he.

The Porsche sped up as he shifted and flew around the track. He was told not to go past fourth gear his first lap or two, until he had a feel for the car and speed.

But the feeling was so addicting.

He was floating around the track and he was the one doing it. He was flying the car around, passing others he was sure had more experience then him. He was still no match for the Ferrari but he didn’t much care about winning against Seunghyun now.

He was flying.

He was more free then he had ever been. Even before his eye was mutilated and his life cracked around him. The slightest of his touch had the car jeering all over. There was so much power he wasn’t sure what to do. A small piece of him wanted to crash the car because he could. A bigger piece of him, the part he was sure remembered how hard Seunghyun could punch, and would punch if he crashed, just shifted up to the next and final gear.

It seemed as if hours flew by and Jiyong never tired of the feel of the car beneath him. He never peeled his eye from the track until a small light told him he was low on fuel. Begrudgingly, he exited the track and turned his keys over to the attendant. They chatted together about the car and whether or not all of Jiyong’s organs had returned to their proper places yet.

“It’s like my stomach and my heart are best friends and I can’t split them up now!” Jiyong said, feeling six with all the excitement.

Soon enough the Ferrari pulled in and killed its engine. But the door did not open and Jiyong couldn’t wait. He had to share this with Seunghyun .

But Jiyong wasn’t sure buzzing was the right word for what was happening when he opened the door and peered at Seunghyun .

He was slumped over the wheel and seemingly crying.

“Hey! Hey!” Jiyong was yelling, pulling the boy of the wheel, preparing to tell him to knock it off and just allow himself to be happy for once in his sodding life.

But when he pulled the boy forward he felt a hand twist into his hair and crash his face into Seunghyun ’s. The kiss was frantic, void of finesse, and salty from tears. But after a moment Jiyong felt the other’s body start to shake and it became incredibly hard to kiss because Seunghyun ’s lips were split into a huge smile.

“I hate you. I bloody hate you.”

Jiyong laughed and tried to kiss Seunghyun again but he was pushed away, landing flat on his arse.

“I never wanted to come here! I never wanted to do this! You think I have the money to come here every sodding day and drive like this? Because now I have to!”

“Yes I do believe you have enough money,” Jiyong said.

“Well not to drag your here with me!”

“Shut up,” Jiyong returned, with their customary kiss.