UNLIKELY MATCH | HEESEUNG

40 - Lose Everything

HEESEUNG'S POV

Ferrari is preparing for the next race and the paddock is full of life. She knows about Haruka. She knows about us. I'm in the garage, going over the data from the last race with Lorenzo after a workout session of two hours. I've been training hard, working out and practicing until I'm in peak physical condition. This freaking wound is not going to stop me from achieving my goal and winning the Grand Prix. I'm going to prove to everyone, including myself, that I'm still the best racer out there, injury or no injury.

"Your car is looking good, Heeseung," Lorenzo says and I realize I've been staring blankly at the screen for God knows how long. "We've made some changes based on the data from the last race. I think you'll be pleased with the improvements." As much as I want to believe him, Ferrari had failed me more times than I can count. I can't deny the fact that the more determination I have, the more they're so keen on making everything go wrong. 

"Well, I just hope they didn't ruin her." I force a smile, closing the laptop and pushing it aside. Lorenzo gives me a sympathetic look, understanding the frustration that comes with relying on the team to deliver a competitive car. They always end up falling short somehow, and it's infuriating.

"We'll make the most of what we have." He pats me on the back and before I know it, he's making his way to the mechanics to double-check everything before the race. I watch him go, Junseok standing against the wall in the corner of my eye. I don't even spare him a glance. Sending someone to end my life is enough to remind me that crossing him or engaging in petty revenges would only drag me into his dark world. Instead, I reach for my phone and dial Sena's number, waiting for what feels like an eternity as the phone rings. She usually picks up as soon as possible, but today, it feels like time has slowed down to a crawl.

I'm still guilty for not being honest with her. I'm still trying to come up with a way to tell her about Haruka without having to hurt her in the slightest bit or make her doubt my love for her. I would quite literally move mountains for her, but it seems like no matter how hard I try, I keep stumbling over my own mistakes. And there's no one else to blame but me. No one else to carry this guilt but me. 

We're humans like that. We carry our burdens, our mistakes, our regrets, like heavy stones strapped to our backs. We make mistakes and we try to rectify them, but sometimes the damage is already done, the wounds already inflicted. And as much as I want to shield Sena from the pain, I know that I'm the one who caused it in the first place.

"I'll take her for a ride." Junseok's voice makes me turn to face him and I don't need to hear the rest of his sentence to know where it's going. The way he leans against my car, my own damn car, the one I poured my heart and soul into—it's like a slap in the face. I hate seeing people touching her. And worse, I hate seeing Junseok, the very person I despise, laying his hands on something that means so much to me.

"Get the fuck away from my car," I say through clenched teeth, standing up before I make my way to him. The way he only reaches my shoulder should be enough to make him crawl back to whatever hole he came out from but no, he's as stubborn as ever, his smirk widening as he looks up at me. I'm itching for a fight, for a chance to wipe that smug smirk off his face once and for all.

"Or what, Heeseung?" I watch as he straightens up, his arrogance practically oozing from every pore. I wish I could say that I'll beat the living daylights out of him, that I'll make him regret ever crossing me. But I know better than to let him bait me into a confrontation, especially here in the paddock where any altercation would only bring unwanted attention and trouble. "Are you going to send someone to kill me? Like I did to you?" His words hit me like a punch to the gut, the memory of the attack still fresh in my mind. In the back of my mind, the sight of Sena crying while holding me in her arms, my blood staining her beautiful red dress, is etched like a scar.