Chapter Text
Engines roared, tires screeched, and the scent of burning rubber filled the night air. Motorcycles tore through the winding road, their riders pushing the limits of speed and sanity. The racetrack was alive with adrenaline, but Shin’s focus was keen-edged.
He gripped the handlebars, body leaning into the turn as the world blurred past him. The only thing ahead—Saint.
The bane of Shin’s existence. His rival, his competitor—the one person he couldn’t stand and yet couldn’t ignore.
Shin narrowed his eyes. Cocky bastard.
Shin could feel his pulse in his throat. Could feel the heat of the competition, the fire that always burned brighter when it was Saint he was up against.
Every time they raced, it was more than just winning. It was proving something.
To themselves. To each other.
A sharp turn. Tires screeched. Saint pulled ahead slightly, and Shin gritted his teeth, twisting the throttle, closing the gap.
For a moment, it felt like they were the only two people on the track.
Just them.
Neither willing to back down. Neither willing to lose. Neither willing to acknowledge the undeniable pull between them—the way their rivalry was laced with something neither of them wanted to name.
That they weren’t just fighting for first place.
That this tension between them was something else entirely.
He ignored the voices in his head and accelerated, closing the gap, heart pounding in sync with the engine. Saint glanced at him from the corner of his eye, and for a split second, their gazes met and he could feel Saint smirking.
Frustrating..
Shin gritted his teeth and pushed harder. The race wasn’t over yet.
Their eyes met. A silent challenge passed between them.
Saint gave him a thumbs up and then surged past him in a blur of speed.
As soon as they parked, helmets came off—Saint’s messy black hair clung to his forehead with sweat, Shin’s golden brown-dyed strands wild from the ride.
"Better luck next time, Shin."
Saint’s voice was annoyingly cheerful as he swung off his motorcycle.
Shin huffed, rolling his shoulders. "Keep running your mouth. One day, I’ll shut it for you."
Saint laughed, tossing his helmet onto his bike. "Yeah? Maybe I do want you to shut my mouth."
Shin clicked his tongue. Smug asshole.
He turned away, grabbing his jacket. He had no patience for Saint’s cocky attitude.
His phone buzzed. seeing the name his stomach twisted.
Mother..
He exhaled sharply before answering. "What?"
"Is that how you talk to your mother?" Her voice was light, almost amused.
Shin clenched his jaw. "What do you want?"
A sigh. "Can’t I check in on my son?"
Liar.
"You need money again, don’t you?"
Silence. Then a soft chuckle. "Just a little. Your stepfather..."
"I don’t care." His voice was sharp.
He could already feel the headache creeping in.
She never called unless she needed something. Not on his birthdays. Not when he was left with his grandparents as a kid. Not when he cried himself to sleep, waiting for her to come back.
But he still picked up her call every damn time.
Because she was the only family he had.
"I'll send it," he muttered, ending the call before she could say anything else.
When he looked up, Saint was watching him. Too closely.
Shin scoffed. "What? You have a habit of listening to other's phone conversation now?"
Saint shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Nah. Just curious what put you in such a shitty mood. You don't even get grumpy like this when you loose."
Shin forced a smirk. "Maybe Its your face"
Saint grinned. "Liar. You love my face."
Damn him.
Shin rolled his eyes and walked off, leaving behind the ache in his chest that never really went away.
Saint watched him go, the playful smirk still on his lips. But there was something else in his eyes—something he couldn’t quite put into words.
Because for all their rivalry, for all their bickering—Saint doesn’t hate Shin. Not even close.