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The sun scorched the dirt track, glinting off the rows of motocross bikes lined up for the qualifier. Engines rumbled like wild beasts in a cage, revving in anticipation. At the centre of it all, wearing his signature matte red helmet with the black cat decal, was Riku, the veteran, the legend. His posture was calm and composed, that of a man who had seen it all.
Two bikes down sat Jaehee, the rising star, lacing up his gloves with the confident energy of someone who had nothing to lose. His bike was a custom green and white model,13 stamped proudly on the side for all to see. His helmet rested on his thigh for now, revealing sharp features and sharp eyes to match, the media’s golden boy and Riku’s worst enemy.
Cameras swarmed, fans screamed, and anchors spoke breathlessly into their mics.
“Another face-off between Jaehee and Riku. Will the rookie continue his winning streak, or will the veteran reclaim his crown?”
“Their rivalry has single-handedly doubled viewership this season. It's fire on wheels every time they hit the track.”
Their pre-race interview was being replayed on big screens, fueling the fire and rivalry between the two, making the tension even more exciting.
“He’s fast,” Riku had said last week with a cool shrug. “But experience doesn’t come from YouTube tutorials.”
“Maybe,” Jaehee had replied, flashing that cocky smile, “but I’ve got enough trophies to build a step-ladder to your ego.”
The electricity between them was almost palpable, the public eating up every interaction they saw.
It was after the interviews that the Locker rooms had emptied, shadows growing long beneath the overhead lights. Jaehee snuck down the back hallway of the green rooms, helmet under one arm, boots clicking softly on concrete before arriving at a door labelled with Riku. He didn’t knock; he knew the door would be open.
Inside, Riku was stretching his shoulder, fresh from a post-training shower. His damp hair clung to his face, and his usual leather jacket was slung over the chair. He didn’t turn when Jaehee entered, instead towel-drying his hair off.
“Did you need to say YouTube tutorials?” Jaehee muttered, tossing his helmet onto the bench.
Riku grinned without looking “You started it when you called my style tired”
Jaehee walked over, wrapped his arms around Riku’s waist from behind, resting his cheek on his shoulder.
“I still meant it,” Jaehee whispered, lips close to the older’s ear “Even if I like it.”
Riku turned, slow and deliberate, to face him. Their eyes met, familiar, weary, and hungry in the way only lovers pretending to be enemies could understand.
“I hate that we can’t even touch at the podium,” Jaehee said.
“You touched me last week,” Riku said, his voice low. “You shoulder-checked me so hard I saw stars.”
“You tripped me on my way to the winners' tent.”
“You bit me.”
“You loved it.”
They laughed, quietly, mouths brushing in between chuckles. And then they kissed, quick and desperate, like the timer on a bomb was ticking down behind them. Riku pushed him gently against the lockers, lips trailing down Jaehee’s throat. Their hands were careful and practised, years of hiding every touch having taught them precision.
“I hate pretending,” Jaehee breathed, fingers tangled in Riku’s hair. “I hate that I have to glare at you instead of celebrating when you win.”
“You hate not winning more”, Riku said with a smirk, nipping at Jaehee’s jaw.
Jaehee snorted, looking at Riku lovingly, “You’re not wrong.”
The air crackled with anticipation; the sound of the fans cheering was almost deafening. However, it was unable to drown out the countdown. The buzzer rang, and the gates slammed open; like bullets, they were off. Dust spiralled, engines screamed, and Riku and Jaehee danced on the edge of danger, overtaking each other with hairpin precision. The crowd was on its feet, and commentators barely able to keep up.
They were flawless, pushing each other faster, harder; no one else could match them. This wasn’t just rivalry, this was poetry on wheels. In the final lap, Jaehee edged forward on a whip-fast turn, only to be caught by Riku’s inside line. The finish line blazed toward them. Riku won, by inches.
The crowd exploded as cameras zoomed in, Riku’s smiling face plastered all over the big screens as he pumped his fist in victory. Jaehee ripped off his helmet and threw a glare so sharp it could have cracked asphalt, with Riku only raising an eyebrow, expression unreadable.
They stood side by side on the podium, not even glancing at each other as flashbulbs lit up their faces. Fans screamed, some even booed, but the rivalry continued to burn bright.
Riku’s hotel room door opened to a red hoodie and a stormy face. “You were so smug,” Jaehee said the second he stepped in, not bothering to announce himself.
“I earned it”, Riku replied, placing his glass of champagne on the table just as Jaehee grabbed the front of Riku’s shirt and kissed him hard, their teeth knocking as Jaehee pushed Riku against the wall.
“I hate you”, he muttered, hands falling to the hem of Riku’s shirt before pulling it over his head, lips attaching to the exposed collarbone as he bit hard, leaving his mark on the shorter man.
“I love you, too,” Riku moaned at the feeling, hands grabbing onto Jaehee’s arms, squeezing the muscles that flex under his touch.
It didn’t take long before the rest of their clothes disappeared, falling to the floor as all the tension exploded, their hands roaming each other's bodies, memorising what they already had. Pleasure and passion overtook them, moans filling the room as they forgot all about the races and rivalry, taking their time instead of rushing to cross the finish line.
Later, wrapped in sheets, their hands tangled between them, Jaehee stared at the ceiling, his thoughts rushing through his brain faster than any bike could go. “You ever think about stopping?” he asked, his fingers lacing together with Rikus.
Riku didn’t pretend not to know what he meant. “Every day”, he mused, squeezing Jaehee’s hand in sympathy.
“And?”
“And I’d rather race with you like this than not at all”, Riku said, looking up at the younger, giving him a soft smile.
Jaehee looked down at him, mouth pressed in a thin line. “One day, they’ll find out.”
“I know,” Riku said softly. “When they do, I want to be kissing you at the finish line.”
Jaehee smiled, before placing a soft kiss on Riku’s forehead.“Then I’m going to beat you just for that.”
“You’ll have to catch me first.” Riku grinned, before pushing Jaehee onto his back and climbing on top of him, ready for lap 2.
The sky over Thunder Valley was heavy, bruised with storm clouds, and the wind whipped through the open field like a warning. Cameras hovered like vultures, and fans filled the stands, not an empty seat available. The upcoming race was hyped as the most anticipated of the season, and all eyes were on the two men standing side by side at the gates, Riku, the reigning champion, and Jaehee, the firebrand rookie.
They hadn’t spoken all morning apart from a quick good morning and good luck text, having to do pre-race checks and interviews, but as they adjusted their gear by the lineup, tension buzzed like static between them. Jaehee stepped close enough for only Riku to hear. “Try not to choke this time,” he muttered, eyes still on the track ahead, even though there was a hidden innuendo that only Riku would understand.
Riku scoffed, his vizor covering the slight blush on his cheeks. “Maybe focus on finishing instead of showboating, rookie”, Riku replied, memories of their private time running through his mind.
Jaehee turned to glare, and for a second, just a second, the words burned a little too real. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding together, “You’ve been riding scared lately.”
“And you’ve been riding like you think you're invincible,” Riku snapped, a hint of worry bleeding into his words, warning Jaehee to be careful.
Something in Jaehee's face faltered, just a flicker, before he masked it with a sneer. “Maybe I am.”
The warning buzzer sounded and helmets snapped on as he moment was shattered, and they didn’t speak again.
The race began with a thunderous roar, mud spraying, tires screaming, and Riku and Jaehee dancing their violent ballet, inches from colliding on each turn. Their rivalry played out in every lean and swerve, rubber burning to the crowd’s delight.
But on the fourth lap, in a curve known as Widow’s Hook, disaster struck.
Riku took the corner too tight, the bike catching a ridge, flipping, once, twice, before crumpling to the ground. Riku flew through the air and slammed into the track barrier with a sickening crunch, his body lying limp and lifeless. The crowd gasped as the commentary cut out and marshals sprinted onto the track, avoiding the racers who were too focused on winning.
Jaehee saw the crash in a flash of motion in front of him, and before logic or instinct could catch up, he slammed the brakes. Mud sprayed, the crowd screamed for him to go on, but he didn’t even look at the finish line. He dropped his bike and ran.
“ Riku! ” His voice cracked, helmet discarded, boots slipping as he skidded to the crash site. The medics were heading there as well, but Jaehee forced his way past them, kneeling beside the man whose face was pale beneath his cracked visor. Riku’s eyes were closed, blood was trickling down his temple, and his chest was barely rising.
“Don’t you dare, don’t you dare ” Jaehee’s hands trembled as he yanked his gloves off, cupping Riku’s face. “You stupid, reckless asshole,” he whispered as tears rolled down his cheeks.
The medics gently pulled him back as they lifted Riku onto a stretcher. Jaehee didn’t fight them; he just walked alongside, hands shaking, heart in his throat, the words before the race running through his mind, feeling like the worst person in the world.
The hospital was white and sterile and wrong. They should be standing in front of the cameras, bantering as champagne was sprayed and fans cheered. Instead, Jaehee sat beside Riku’s bed, helmet in his lap, still wearing his muddied gear. A nurse had offered for him to go home and would let him know if anything changed, but Jaehee didn’t answer. He just sat there, eyes fixed on the heartbeat monitor like it might stop any second, like Riku might vanish between one beep and the next, like he could lose everything in the blink of an eye.
Riku stirred hours later, groaning softly, eyelids fluttering open. Jaehee was already on his feet, at his side, gripping his hand tight. “Hey,” Riku rasped, “I crash good, huh?” he said with a chuckle, leading to a coughing fit.
“You idiot ,” Jaehee said, voice breaking, as tears started to roll down his face. “You absolute fucking idiot.” His hand tightened, as if silently promising never to let go ever again.
Riku blinked slowly. “Did you win?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood, hating to see Jaehee in so much pain, especially if he caused it.
“I didn’t finish.” Jaehee sat down hard, eyes glossing over. “I left the race. I left it because I saw you hit the barrier, and I” He bit down a sob, furious at himself. “If you hadn’t woken up, if something had happened to you, our last words would’ve been, God , Riku, I can’t keep doing this.” his voice was tight as their eyes met, a fierceness in them that never appeared even in their arguments.
Riku looked at him, face soft despite the bruises. “Jaehee…”
“I love you, you asshole.” Jaehee’s voice cracked, interrupting him “And I don’t want to spend one more second pretending that I don’t. I don’t care about sponsors, the media, or whatever the press will spin. If something were to happen to you, I want the world to know what you meant to me. I want you to know.” He reached out to stroke Riku’s hair, dirt, sweat, and blood matted together “I love you”, he whispered, leaning down to press their lips together softly.
Riku’s hand curled around Jaehee’s. Weak, but real. “Ok,” he whispered, ready to take on whatever it was that life had in store for them. “And I love you too, always have.”
Two weeks later, they sat side by side at a press conference. Riku still wore a wrist brace whilst Jaehee kept fiddling with the mic stand.
The media had been called for a “joint announcement.” No one knew what to expect. After the incident, speculations had been running wild; everyone wanted to know what the real relationship between the two was.
Riku cleared his throat, and the room went silent, breaths held as they awaited what would be said. “We’ve been rivals on the track for a long time. But off the track,” Jaehee reached over and took his hand, squeezing tight in support. Right there, in front of all the cameras, “we’re much more,” he finished.
Gasps and murmurs filled the room, a few stunned reporters scrambling to transcribe what was said. Then there was applause, cameras flashing, and multiple people speaking over each other, trying to ask question after question whilst the two sat there, never letting go of each other’s hands.
Social media exploded within minutes. #JaeRi Confirmed trended almost immediately, fan edits filling social media, reaction videos appearing everywhere, heartfelt posts about queer athletes in sports; it was all there. Both of them were receiving multiple sponsorship requests, their careers rising higher than ever before, and they realised that the world didn't care if they were rivals; it just wanted them together, and they were never apart again.