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Everything is a part of it: the crowds, the engine, the near-manic grin on Hiyori’s face.
Everything is a part of the rhythm that thrums through his bloodstream faster than any alcohol, the rhythm that promises to carry him to new records and new heights of fame.
He feels the pressure of his palms against the wheel as he takes a curve at almost dangerous speeds. He feels every divot and imperfection in the track beneath his wheels. He feels the vibration and purr of the engine travel through his entire body, rattling his teeth in his skull and threatening to shake his foot off of the accelerator. He feels the air whipping by his open window at—god, who even knows how fast he’s going? He can’t be bothered to take his eyes off the road to look at his speedometer—speeds that would be mind-blowing to any average person who doesn’t spend hours behind a wheel. He feels dust sting his face, and he licks his lips so they don’t dry out too terribly.
After all, he’s also a globally acclaimed model, and the crowd knows it. He hears the cheering increase in pitch as he circles the track towards the stands and decrease again as he guns the engine down the straightaway. This is just a qualifier, so it’s not like he needs to try too hard, but either way he’s left his competition those few precious seconds behind him. It’s the last lap and he’s leading, but just for fun, he presses down hard on the accelerator right after the turn and flies across the finish line. The cheering increases exponentially as he drifts to a halt and steps on the brakes, nearly lifting himself out of his seat before the car comes to a stop.
His team is there, racing to get the car off the track and make sure everything is in order—more importantly, Jun is there, grinning wide as he pulls Hiyori out of the car. Hiyori turns to the crowd and waves, even though his arms feel like they’re going to fall off. He laughs wildly, blows a kiss to the cameras, and follows Jun, an arm around his shoulders, into the backrooms of the stadium.
They collapse almost immediately onto one of the strange flat couches littering the racer’s lounge. Hiyori lays out flat, head pillowed on Jun’s lap.
“I’m exhausted,” he whines. “Jun-kun, get me a drink.”
“You’re laying on my lap,” Jun mutters. “I can’t move.” Then he swears, a string of curses under his breath.
“What is it?” Hiyori proceeds to answer his own question by sitting up. He beams at the two people approaching.
Well. Mostly he’s smiling at Nagisa. He doesn't mind Ibara, but he wishes the manager would leave his beloved Nagisa alone.
“Hiyori,” Nagisa says softly, smiling gently at him.
Energy restored, Hiyori jumps up and throws himself at Nagisa, who catches him and spins him around briefly. Giggling, Hiyori leans up on tiptoes to kiss Nagisa’s forehead.
Jun clears his throat. “Saegusa-san. Ran-san. It’s… nice to see you.”
Hiyori turns back to face the mechanic, still holding Nagisa’s hand and leaning his head on his shoulder. “Jun-kun, don’t be so stiff,” he pouts. “They came to congratulate me on my win!”
“We did?” Nagisa looks from Hiyori to Ibara.
“We came to either congratulate them on their win, or comfort them for their loss,” Ibara reminds Nagisa.
Jun looks like he can’t decide whether to be insulted that Ibara thought they might lose, or pleased that she included Jun in the team. Or maybe he’s just constipated.
“Yes.” Nagisa looks pleased now that he’s sure why they’re here. Jun calls him forgetful, but Hiyori is sure he was just so excited to see him that everything else fell to the wayside. “Ibara?”
“Yes, Your Excellency?”
Hiyori catches Nagisa mutter something like You don’t have to— under his breath, then straighten up. “Why don’t you accompany Sazanami to check the car?”
Ibara salutes sarcastically. “Very well.” She looks Jun up and down. “I’m sure it will be fascinating to hear everything about His Highness’s latest toy.”
Hiyori sticks his tongue out at Ibara as she leaves. He hears Jun starting to tell Ibara off for calling the car a toy, and probably going on to list everything about it. He hopes Ibara passes out from boredom.
Nagisa puts his hand over Hiyori’s mouth. “Hey,” he murmurs. “Ibara is important to me. Don’t be rude.”
Hiyori sighs. “Oh, you know I can never resist that face.”
Nagisa smiles lopsidedly and brushes Hiyori’s sweaty bangs off his face. “You did wonderful today. I was watching the whole time.”
“And?” Hiyori says expectantly.
“And you deserve a reward,” Nagisa agrees with a straight face. He then presses a flurry of kisses all over Hiyori’s face until they’re both giggling loudly.
Hiyori leans back to look at Nagisa, arms around his lover’s neck. “I can’t wait to destroy you in the races,” he says fondly.
Nagisa grins, almost wolfish. “Likewise.”