Chapter Text
Jung Hoseok (@jungf1news): Seems like luck is not on Kim’s side today. He will be starting in P20 for a right rear failure! The Mercedes is definitely not ready to try again for the day. Will Kim be able to drive up for tomorrow’s race? We shall see.
“Fucking asshole!” Taehyung screams as loud as he can and punches the sandbag. Seokjin flinches, even covering his ears at how loud everything is coming out. “I fucking hate him, fucking wish he was that damn car kissing the fucking wall—”
Seokjin watches from the sofa in the back. His eyes are round with worry. If Taehyung keeps shoving his anger onto that bag, he’s more likely to break his knuckles than the actual bag. Hopefully he doesn’t break either because both would fall into a terrible state.
“It was the fucking car!” Taehyung throws another punch, anger flooding all over his body. This one echoes all over the room. Seokjin is pretty sure his ears are bleeding at this point.
“You need to calm down,” he tells his younger brother, but doesn’t move at all to even try to get him to calm down. Keeping a few feet between them seems like a good plan right now.
“Don’t tell me to calm down.” Taehyung removes the gloves and bucks them at the floor. The throw is so heavy they bounce. Taehyung kicks them afterwards, making them fly off to the wall. “Did you see the news? They’re shit talking already!”
“They would have even if you made it on the podium.” Seokjin takes a sip of his water bottle. He’s right. The media will do anything to make them look bad, twice as much if it is someone like Taehyung; new and vulnerable. “I was told that guy, the news dude, Hoseok, felt really bad for writing the statement.”
Taehyung scoffs. “Alright. Whatever. Can you get out? I want to be alone.”
Seokjin stands up and takes a hold of his bag. They have a meeting soon and they can’t possibly miss it just because of Taehyung’s mood. Yoongi’s probably already there, in the meeting room, waiting for them. Making Yoongi wait has never been the best option.
“You need to come out, go shower, and go chit chat about your technique. You’ve been here for five hours. Jennie has a few papers to run over, and Yoongi will be here soon to talk as well.”
“I don’t want to”—Taehyung takes a deep breath—“talk. I don’t want to talk. Now, please leave this room or I’ll throw the sandbag at you. I’m trying to workout.”
For Taehyung, it’s not everyday he gets like this. He knows he’s acting like a child. Last time Taehyung truly had a problem with anyone or was even part of a scandalous fight it was with his ex-girlfriend, who he prefers not to talk about.
“No, you’re not. You’re just letting out steam. Hitting a punching bag until it fucking collapses doesn't mean workout. ” Taehyung crosses his arms, a pout on his lips as he glares at the ground. Seokjin understands his anger. Any racer would feel this way, any athlete.
Taehyung begins to pace around with his hands on his hips. His eyes are on the floor. There is regret, embarrassment, and every other negative feeling dancing all over his face. He hopes people understand that it was the car, at least people who are close to him.
“It was the car, Seokjin,” he says for the hundredth time today.
“I know.”
“It wasn’t me.”
“I know, Taehyung.”
Of course Seokjin knows. He could never think of Taehyung making a mistake on track. He’s always extra careful, not only of himself, but also his surroundings; the other racers, the circuits, the car itself.
Taehyung groans with annoyance once again and takes off his shirt. He drops it beside his bag and takes out a towel. “Jennie said they checked it—the car—and I know they did. Yoongi said they checked it too. Hell, I saw when they fucking checked it.”
“Listen, I don’t know what happened either, but it’s better that it happened today than in tomorrow's race.”
“I’m going to lose!” Taehyung exclaims, so loud the walls could actually shake. “On my first fucking race of the fucking season! I had never in my life started so far in the grid. Well, at least not like this. You know what I mean.”
There’s nothing much Seokjin can say. The only way he can get his brother to calm down is by letting him yell as much as he wants, to punch the sandbag until it opens a hole and everything comes out of it. Maybe pasting a picture of Jungkook on it could help, but they need to start liking each other, or at least tolerating each other’s presence.
Seokjin, as Jungkook’s last teammate, is completely aware that Taehyung’s anger goes so far as to reach the younger racer. The way he had looked at Taehyung when he walked through the glass doors, the way he sucked on that candy like racing is something so easy, like learning to ride a bike. Like he was so much better. Seokjin understands the rivalry.
He remembers when Jungkook was introduced. Those wide eyes of his fooled everyone. He was so young at the time, so insanely tiny, too. His body was strong but bony; a kid’s body. He was quiet, would cry if anyone told him he made a mistake. Seokjin hadn’t found him much of a competition, until he was sat inside the car. He hates that what he made out of Jungkook is exactly what Jungkook is doing about Taehyung.
“I despise that stupid, big eyed, bug looking—”
“Jungkook?”
“Don’t say the devil's name. Please.”
Seokjin rolls his eyes and grabs his stuff to head out. He mumbles something about Jennie and how he is being dramatic. Taehyung really hopes he doesn’t go get her. If anyone can get worse than him when something like this happens, it’s her. She can become a real demon if she wants to.
To his dismay, that’s exactly what Seokjin does.
The doors to the gym open. She holds a clean pair of jeans, a bag of shampoo and conditioner, and a new button up shirt. All of them are Taehyung’s, he recognises them. She stands like a star, pointing a finger at his face.
“I’m gonna count to three and if you don’t get yourself naked and into the shower, I’m going to throw you in there.”
“I’m working out, dammit.”
“One.”
Taehyung rolls his eyes and looks away. He kneels down to take one of the punching gloves again. “Stop that. You’re not my mother.”
“Two.”
“You’re my advisor. If anything, you should be supporting me to work out.”
Jennie’s eyes fall into a strong glare. It almost has Taehyung shivering. She’s fucking scary. She says “three” and starts to rush over to Taehyung. Taehyung reacts way too late for his own liking. She’s already in front of him, grabbing him by the ear, ignoring his cries of pain, and dragging him to the shower room.
“I don’t care if you’re angry.” She sits him down on the toilet and shoves everything she was carrying onto his arms. Taehyung holds onto his red ear. “You’ve always been a calm person. Don’t let this one mistake piss you off this much. You’ll do great tomorrow.”
“Right. On P20?”
She loses strength on her legs and groans loudly, throwing her head back, annoyed. “You’ve driven in the rain with normal tires, you’ve won first place on three wheels, you were pushed to the sand once and were able to somehow turn the damn car and earn a place on the podium, anyway. Now shut—”
“That kid is fast.” He’s said this a thousand times, and he will continue to repeat it until everyone gets that through their head. Watching Jungkook drive is like watching a shooting star. Sounds a bit dramatic, but Taehyung sure Jungkook could barely be caught by the human eye if there were no cameras involved. It’s as if race tracks are made for him, the wheels too. This life is made for him.
“He’s 21,” she says, leaning a little closer to pinch his nose. “Stop moping around like a stupid teenager and shower. You smell like horse shit. Oh, and don’t overpass twenty minutes. Your boss is already downstairs.”
Taehyung nods, watches her leave the bathroom and slam the door. Honestly, Jennie deserves a damn raise. No one is ever able to get him back up but her.
* * *
Before the race, their team had to fly back to the main headquarters. Only the team, not the cars, so Jungkook finds himself in his house, on his bed. Once again, it’s Taehyung’s fault. He had to get his leg checked because of the crash, which is ridiculous considering there are doctors in Bahrain. Now, thanks to him, they’re all going to be sleep deprived or something.
Jungkook reloads his inbox over and over again, head hanging at the front of his bed while his feet are on his pillows. Finally, he receives the message that he will be first in the starting grid. He already knew, but there’s always an extra satisfaction at being sent the certificate.
He smiles to himself with joy and sits up. “Me? P1? Thank you!” He says to himself, flaunting his self being.
And just because he feels like being a bitch, he takes a selfie and uploads it on Twitter, with the caption: “ Who’s P1?” He feels a little too proud of himself today. The only person he has to thank for this glorious sensation is Kim Taehyung himself. What a great man he is.
Maybe Jungkook should call him. To thank him of course, because why not?
Jungkook rolls onto his stomach. His phone sits in front of him, his legs dangle up and down like an excited kid. The screen displays Taehyung’s name, the green button to call right below it, but for some reason he can’t get himself to call. He frowns, stares at the screen until it makes him lose focus.
Should he call him? Maybe he should text him instead. But if he texts, then there’s proof that he teased him. Taehyung might show Yoongi, which means Jungkook could get yelled at all over again. He really doesn’t want that to happen again. However, if he texts, then it is easier to talk.
But he kind of wants to hear Taehyung’s voice. His anger is like music for Jungkook’s ears.
So he finally dials. Surprisingly, Taehyung picks up way too fast. Was he expecting Jungkook to call? Was he waiting for him or something? This means he has his phone number saved, right? That has Jungkook feeling giddy.
“What do you want?” He sounds breathless, as if he has been running. Jungkook wonders what he could be doing so late at night.
“Hi,” Jungkook says and tries to contain his smile.
In the back, Jungkook hears the sound of roller wheels. Taehyung must be moving his bag around, getting ready for the new flight that is in a couple of hours. “Yes, hi. What the hell do you want?”
“Woah, calm down, driver,” Jungkook increases his voice, the tilt at the end of his sentences adding to the anger he wants to create. He thinks for a moment before saying, “I’m just here to apologise.”
Taehyung falls silent. There's some shuffling on the other side of the phone. Jungkook puts down his own and presses the speaker option. He lowers the television’s volume with the control remote. He was watching Kung Fu Panda.
“You… You want to apologise?”
“Yes, I wanted to say I’m sorry I didn’t finish my lessons about Formula 1 and driving. Because after what I saw today, I think you really need it.”
Taehyung curses in a low voice and hangs up. Jungkook bursts out laughing. He rolls around his bed, even falls off at some point. He can’t believe Taehyung just hung up on him. Jungkook knows that if that had been him, then he’d be just as pissed off, but thankfully it’s not him in this situation.
God, he’s such an asshole. So he calls Taehyung again.
“Literally what the hell do you want?”
“If you didn’t want to talk to me, you wouldn’t keep answering. Admit it, you need me.” Taehyung grumbles on the other side, uses some excuse about Jungkook being his workmate so he has to answer. Jungkook can almost see him pinching the bridge of his nose. “Hey, hey, calm down. I get it. It was just the car. We’ve all been there.”
“What’s your point, Jungkook?”
He actually doesn’t have any specific idea. All he wanted was to tease Taehyung even further, but then an idea pops into his head. There’s a line he should never cross, but maybe, just maybe for today, he can. So he jumps up and rushes through the hallway, until reaching his special room of trophies.
“Can we do a video call? I miss your face.” He flicks on the lights. All of his trophies come into view. He reaches one of the tables and takes a couple out, only four.
“What—”
Jungkook is already requesting a video call, and for some damn reason, Taehyung accepts it. At this point he must be a masochist because he keeps doing as told. Jungkook’s face comes into view. His nose and eyes, staring down at the front camera. Taehyung’s side is a pitch black screen.
“Look, I wanted to show you something.” Taehyung really hopes he’s not naked. Jungkook switches the camera view and points it right at the trophies on the table. “Look. These are trophies. Not sure if you’ve ever seen one, but you’re welcome.”
There’s a long sigh on the other side of the phone. Jungkook smiles to himself.
It falls as soon as Taehyung’s camera is lifted and he’s showing off a full wall of trophies. Jungkook accidentally switches his camera back to his face and leans closer to see. There’s more than forty in that one wall. Never ending rows of trophies that Jungkook could never understand where the hell he got them from.
“Welcome to my house,” Taehyung says, laughing shortly after. He turns the camera to himself. He’s shirtless, but Jungkook can only see his collarbones. Taehyung runs a hand through his hair as he continues, “Yeah, I’ve never seen a trophy in my life.”
“Those are Seokjin’s,” Jungkook tells him, as if he’s so sure of himself.
“You think I live with Seokjin?” Taehyung asks with surprise. He laughs. “Those are all mine, Jungkook. Sleep well. Wouldn’t want you to lose at the race.” He does a pouty face, just to get in Jungkook’s nerves. It works.
“Well, I hope you don’t sleep.” Good one, Jungkook. Good one.
“Isn’t it past your bedtime?”
“I’m not a kid!” Jungkook screeches. Taehyung bursts out laughing. He throws his head back, then nods his head as if he doesn’t believe what Jungkook is saying. “Stop it!”
“Goodnight, little baby.” Taehyung moves closer to the camera and does a kissy face over it, even pinches his fingers as if he were to pull on Jungkook’s cheeks.
Jungkook throws him the middle finger and hangs up. How dare he. How dare he beat him in his own game? Jungkook’s not a baby. Jungkook is far from being a little baby. He’s big, with visible muscles, and he could knock anyone out if he wanted to.
Stupid Taehyung and his stupid smiley face and kisses. How dare he send him kisses? As if Jungkook wants any. And who even answers the phone shirtless? Is he trying to look superior or something? Jungkook could have taken his shirt off too, but he has manners.
He’s a man.
His alarm with the baby crying sound effect starts to ring. It’s time to sleep. He needs to be rested before the flight.
But first, he’ll finish watching Kung Fu Panda.
* * *
Race days, undeniably, are the best. Not only because Jungkook is able to prove himself and beat everyone else, but because when he wins, he can give the trophy to his mother and show her how well he is doing to the twins.
He wakes up joyously, jumps around and gets ready. Now he’s at the hotel, ready to go.
As for Taehyung, he wakes up with his body hurting, all thanks to yesterday’s exercising. Yoongi had texted him earlier to wish him luck and to make sure he is feeling better.
Yoongi’s next business call is Jungkook. While Taehyung was calm through the phone and professional, Jungkook has his phone in between his ear and shoulder, jumping around as he tries to lace up his shoe. He’s yelling with excitement into the phone, telling Yoongi he’s going to win and be the absolute best, like he always is.
A few nervous questions are thrown around here and there; Jungkook always reminding Yoongi that he is their main driver, not Taehyung. Yoongi always has to calm him down about it. In order to do so, he takes Jungkook out for lunch. It always works.
By the time they have to be heading to the circuit, Jungkook sits in the car, reloading Taehyung’s Twitter page while munching on a cookie. He needs to be ready for any type of attack.
There’s a new picture of Taehyung and Seokjin. Jungkook glares, leans closer. That would be him and Seokjin if Taehyung had never come into the picture and stayed back in Formula 3 or whatever. He and Seokjin would be getting ready together and share a hug before the race, wishing each other well.
And then Jungkook would absolutely destroy him, but that’s way later. That’s after the hug and the good luck, please don’t crash.
He swallows the last bit of his cookie and zooms into Taehyung’s face, who is in pyjamas, the shirt halfway unbuttoned. He zooms in even more on his collarbones. Sure, Jungkook might hate him but that doesn't stop the fact that he’s very good looking. Why couldn’t he decide to be a model instead of a pilot?
“Are you looking at Taehyung?” Yoongi asks.
“Fuck off, I’m studying.”
Yoongi laughs and goes back to checking his emails. Jungkook rotates his body away and goes back to Taehyung’s Twitter. He scrolls through other pictures, blinks down at them, even saves one because his hair looks nice there and Jungkook would totally want to try that hairstyle.
He gulps, blinking down at some of his working out pictures. Stupid, son of a bitch sure is God’s favourite. Jungkook finally locks his phone and puts it away, pouting with anger.
Today it’s gonna be good. He’s going to win. He can feel it on his left nut.
Arriving at the circuit, the reporters flood them. Jungkook is pulled by his bodyguards into the paddock. Here he does a few interviews. Jung Hoseok is there, taking pictures for his Twitter page and main website.
Everyone is around Jungkook. He doesn't love the attention, but if it’s already on him, then it should stay on him. But of course, Taehyung arrives and everyone runs away, leaving him completely alone and in the middle of an interview.
Jungkook lets out a deep breath and is ready to leave when he sees Yoongi walking over to Taehyung and throwing an arm around him, tapping his chest twice and taking him to the motorhome. Jungkook follows right behind. He wants to know what it is they’re going to talk about. After being lied to about Taehyung joining and Seokjin leaving, Jungkook fears he doesn’t trust everyone the same as he used to.
Inside the motorhome, the new driver and boss go into an office, so Jungkook is forced to wait downstairs, by himself, with crossed arms. They’re in there for fifteen whole minutes. Jungkook taps his shoe against the floor obnoxiously loud. With every second passing by, he does it even faster.
Then, they finally open the door. They share a hug. Jungkook’s gaze falls into a squint. When Taehyung turns around, Jungkook catches sight of what he carries; white, shiny gloves.
Yoongi got him gloves. New gloves.
That’s not something someone does just for the sake of it. There’s something going on. Now Taehyung and he have the same type of gloves, but in different colours, which is pretty cool, but whatever. He won’t admit it outloud.
“Does anyone know where Taehyung is?” Jennie asks from behind. Another worker shakes his head. Jungkook ignores her, not wanting to reply. Jennie groans with annoyance. “I never know where he is! I need him at the lounge now, so if anyone can tell him, thanks.” She leaves with loud stomps, pushing the glass doors open.
Jungkook sucks his lips in, thinks for a moment. He knows where Taehyung is.
Ok, fine, he’ll do Jennie a favour.
He rushes up the stairs, then down the hall, until reaching Taehyung’s private room. He knocks on the door and doesn’t wait for anyone to answer before opening it. Taehyung is inside, putting on his shoes. He’s surprised at the sudden visit, his head snaps over to Jungkook quickly.
“Not you again…” Taehyung mumbles under his breath, looking away from Jungkook.
“They’re waiting for you at the lounge,” says Jungkook.
“Ok. I’ll be on my way.” He starts to put on the other shoe. “Thanks.” Jungkook clears his throat at Taehyung thanking him for the news. His eyes continue to be focused on Taehyung’s hands, tying up his shoe.
“Well, hurry. We don’t have all day.” He says this, but he doesn’t move from there.
Taehyung lets out an annoyed sound. “Cut me some slack, will you? Calm down already.”
“I am calm. I’m just hurrying you up.” The tone is stronger than intended, but his voice covers it up with how high pitched it comes out. Taehyung rolls his eyes and finishes his shoe. He stands up to zip the rest of his suit up. Jungkook dangles his arms from side to side, leaning against the door. “So… we have matching gloves now.”
Taehyung snorts, doesn’t even look at him. “Wow. Do we?”
“Mine are blue, though.”
Taehyung shakes his head a little. “So, they’re not matching.”
“Not really but kinda.” The look on Taehyung’s face is comical, while Jungkook has wide eyes, eyebrows raised, looking a little too innocent for the way he has been acting. “Mine are blue and yours are white, but they have the same texture and icons and yeah.”
Taehyung nods very slowly, taking in everything Jungkook just said.
“Cool. Blue’s nice.”
Jungkook feels air fill up his lungs as something ticklish happens inside of him. He doesn’t like the sensation one bit, so he looks away, pushes hair behind his ear and scoffs loudly. “Well, duh. It’s blue. Anyway, just—hurry. Bye.” He scrambles off with red covering his cheeks.
Taehyung is left full of confusion, hands taking a halt over his shoes and suit. He doesn’t understand the other driver one bit. One moment Jungkook acts like he hates him, the next he's... whatever this was. Sometimes the way he speaks and the way he acts looks like a teenager who has barely entered the stage of puberty.
Seokjin comes running into his room, knocking on the door even though it's wide open. "Hey, you ready?"
"Yup."
"Alright, hurry. We need an adult down there. Jungkook's acting like a freak."
"No need to tell me more."
"Did you say something to him? His face was... tomato looking."
"I mean, not really. He came up to tell me we have matching gloves now."
Seokjin lifts one eyebrow, confused. "Your gloves are white. His are blue."
"That's what I said."
Seokjin shakes his head, waving a hand to forget the topic. "Whatever. He's funny. Let's just go."
* * *
Jung Hoseok (@jungf1news): It’s time, everyone! The cars are being set up in the grid! Are we ready for this season? Will Mercedes finally allow another team to win? Let’s see.
Jung Hoseok, greatest of them all when it comes Formula 1 news, watches from a special spot at the top. He sighs into his hands, chin between them as he stares at Kim Taehyung. He’s being taken to the end of the grid, way back until P20. It hurts Hoseok more than it should, it really does.
Taehyung is a fantastic driver. He should be at the front with Jeon Jungkook, Max Verstappen, and Sebastian Vettel. The world is very unfair when it comes to beautiful people, it seems. But he’s sure Kim will offer a great race, one to be remembered.
His eyes move through every racer, watching them get ready, his pen ready over his notebook in case he has to write anything down.
And then his eyes almost pop out at the sight of a very happy Jeon Jungkook skipping down the grid. Once again, he repeats, all the way back until P20, where Kim Taehyung stands. Hoseok taps the other news workers and points down at the teammates. They all grab their binoculars and watch closely.
Hoseok doesn’t know what they’re saying, but it’s adorable to see the teammates talk and wish each other luck. After all that crazy hassle all over social media, it seems like they are actually really good friends.
The reality is, when cameras are on them, it's like a pinch on the arm; easy to handle but also very disturbing. Jungkook's eyes are focused on his target; Taehyung, who stands outside the car, talking to a crew member. They hold the covered wheels.
“Newbie, hey!” Jungkook chirps.
At the sound of the nickname, Taehyung looks up, lifting his visor. The moment his eyes fall on Jungkook, he lets out a sigh. It's a long stretch, buy he hopes Jungkook continues to be in that weird, confusing mood he was back in the motorhome.
“The hell are you doing down here?” he asks, not really in a mean way, as he crosses both arms over his chest. He sounds more amused than anything.
Jungkook shrugs. Taehyung can only see his eye smile, considering it’s the only part of his face that is visible as he wears his helmet as well. “Just thought it would be nice to come and wish you some luck.”
“Well,” Taehyung sighs and looks back at his car, hand landing over it. “That's very nice of you, Jungkook. Thank you very much.”
Jungkook nods, eyes focused on the grid. “You're welcome. Seems like you'll need it.”
Taehyung stops, chuckling in displeasure, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. He slowly looks back at the younger. He really thought Jungkook was trying to be kind. His mistake.
“Excuse me?” he asks. It's crazy loud around them with the crowd's intense cheering, but Taehyung now feels like his blood is boiling. It's a shame Jungkook holds so much power over him.
“You know what they say,” the boy begins, “it's better to be the worst in the best, than the best in the worst.”
Oh, and Taehyung wishes he didn't understand that reference—but he does. He gets it because he comes from Formula 2 and 3, where he would always be told that no matter how many times he won, it would never mean the same as winning in Formula 1. Apparently, when you’re below the best of the best, it means nothing. He could have been earning millions, could have won a thousand trophies, but it would never match what it was to be next to the F in the 1.
He tries to control himself but he can’t. Now he's mad.
“Hey, Jungkook,” he says in a low voice, so the other mechanics are unable to hear, and takes a step closer. “Why don't you go back to your fucking spot, yeah? And get the hell out of my face.” He spits the words out, his eyes are a powerful glare that he hopes no one else can see.
Jungkook sighs loudly, dreamily. “If you insist. I'll head back to my position, P1.” He emphasises on it, pointing back with a cocked hip. Taehyung stays silent. He needs to calm down.
“I was actually hoping you'd get P2, you know?” Jungkook says and holds Taehyung’s broad shoulder. He swifts his hand over it, as if cleaning something. “At least then you would have given me a race to remember, but now with you all the way here? Impossible.”
Breathe in, breathe out. Jungkook doesn't go away, and it's not until he holds on tighter to Taehyung's shoulder that the older boy finally slaps it off.
“What part of fuck off did you not understand? What is it that you want? A good race?” Taehyung growls. “Is that it? I'll give you a fucking good race.”
At this point, being this upset should back him away from the car. Mixing his current rage with the adrenaline of racing is a disaster waiting to happen. No one should ever get inside one of these while wanting to punch someone on the face.
Either way, he’s still going to do it. He’s got a teammate to beat.
Jungkook glares one last time before dropping the visor. As he hears his name being called, Taehyung watches him head off. He jumps into his own car, the pit crew helping and making sure everything is in the right place..
He's fuming. His body is hot with rage, mind full of Jungkook.
“Radio check,” he hears Jimin say. Taehyung answers as calmly as he can, hands gripping the steering wheel. “Copied.”
In a matter of minutes, the grid becomes free of people, leaving behind twenty cars, full of twenty drivers that are ready to drive for their life, no matter what it takes.
After the formation lap, Taehyung feels like everything lowers to his feet; the engine, the wheels, the power. His concentration turns to one single arrow, pointing straight ahead. All the cars before him have a different story to carry, but for today, Taehyung’s will be the one to make it to the tabloids. He’ll make sure of it.
Taehyung takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a moment. He prays for his life, prays things go well, and prays for the other drivers to make it out with no injuries at all.
“One minute.”
The night is dark, but his vision is clear. The circuit is illuminated enough for him to know where he's going. Though his hands are jittery with last year's events—Grosjean's crash—he won't let it get the best of him.
The next red light turns on. Three more to go.
“Ready to win, Jimin?” he asks.
Third light.
“Yeah. Are you?”
Fourth light.
His gloves feel tight and fresh. His foot is on the pedal, ready to go. Fifth light turns on. His mind is set.
“You know I am.”
The car roars to life and all the lights go off.
Game on.
“It’s lights out and away we go!”
The announcer brings flames to the track. The crowd stands up to cheer. It looks like a wave, as if it’s about to fall all over the cars, but the power of the motors keep them at bay.
The start of the race is probably the most tricky and dangerous period of it all. Every car is way too close to one another, with wheels almost crashing here and there; racers focused with only what is in front of their eyes. Taehyung, being the last, has to surpass the best he can, shuffling in between them.
It goes well, at least for him. Mazepin, a Haas pilot, doesn’t make it to the third curve. He spins off into the grabble, creating a slight mess, but not enough for the rest to suffer. Hopefully Mazepin is alright.
Bahrain is tricky, and thanks to its well known turns and long, straight sections, they are given perfect opportunities to gain a few spots, and easily so, Taehyung moves three up. His eyes are everywhere, mirrors, front, mirrors, front.
At the far end of the next curve, there is another great spot to either lose your position or overtake a new one.
His body vibrates with the car. The new gloves feel fantastic against his skin. It’s good on good, everything is where it is supposed to be and going up. Taehyung needs to go up. Is in Mercedes AMG for fucks sake. There’s no losing here. Never again.
“Keep up the pace,” Jimin says. “Tires are good.”
Taehyung doesn't answer. He knows that so far everything is going well. He knows when not to get too cocky, but at this point? After everything said? He doesn't mind showing off a little. He’ll have to shove everyone’s comments back into their mouths and have them swallow every negative detail they’ve said about him.
“P17 now, P17.” There he is again. “Keep it up.”
He needs to make sure that by the end of the race he is at least above P10. In Formula 1, only those above said position are who gain points. Anything below remains the same; either with nothing or no change.
When he doesn't move up much by the next lap, it becomes stressful. With a car as powerful as his, and the driving skills he carries, he's sure that when the opportunity comes, he'll take up as much as he can. There’s pit stops he has to wait for. Those will help him, but he needs to plan it out well in order not to fuck up.
Taehyung maintains his pace. He watches carefully and keeps in mind who is stopping for the box, and at what time they will be, hopefully, coming out. And if they don’t, then that’s a plus for the rest because it means one less car in the race.
By lap thirteen, out of eighty-seven, Taehyung makes it to P11. There are more laps to go and enough time for him to pass by. The crowd is going wild. Seokjin and Yoongi have contacted him through the radio to congratulate him. Seokjin tells him to calm down, that there’s time, but his boss’s encouragement only makes Taehyung want to push even farther.
Luckily Taehyung already stopped once at the pit stop to change tires. The car is flying with how well they work with the rest of the car. It's teamwork. He talked it through with the team, the techniques, and when to pit. It’s not something you can do whenever you feel like it. It will make you lose your spot.
Taehyung speeds into the distance ahead, the car revving with how much power Taehyung forces into it. On the curve he obtains another spot, and soon as he's over with that section, he carefully runs past another competitor.
That competitor is none other than Checo Pérez; an amazing driver, so why the hell is all the way down here today? Something must have happened, the same way it did yesterday for him.
Taehyung then realises that reaching that number one spot is not completely impossible. All morning he spent it trying to tell himself he could do it, but the back of his head continued to remind him of his terrible position. Though he tried to stay positive, there was always that tiny bit of himself that kept nagging him.
You’re going to lose. How embarrassing.
However, if Pérez was able to go from P18 all the way to P1 last year, then there is absolutely no rule in the world that tells him he can't. He’s going to fucking do it.
“Next car is Gasly’s. Going slow.” Taehyung hums a response. “Gap is two. Go.” So he does, zooming past Gasly as if it were nothing. He obtains position ten. He’s been eating up every car like treats. Even better is the fact that he’s having fun.
It's going well. It's going really fucking well. He can't imagine Seokjin's face as he watches from the garage. Taehyung needs to prove to his brother that allowing him to join Mercedes is not a mistake. Seokjin is working hard as his manager, so Taehyung will work just as hard as a driver.
All he wants is a win, and he'll be damned if he doesn't obtain at least one this season. All those trophies at his house are won for his brother, to show him his love and gratitude. This one, though, will be dedicated to his father. Even if he's not here anymore—it's for him. He’ll ignore the urge to beat Jungkook.
The radio turns on, just when an Alpine driver almost crashes to his left, front tyre meeting with Taehyung's. Taehyung curses, being quick to steer the wheel away.
“Taehyung, we need you to push. Ocon's car is damaged. Brakes not working. Drive past him.”
“Almost hit me,” Taehyung grumbles.
“I know.”
Esteban Ocon is left behind, handing Taehyung the spot of P9. Oh, and he's thrilled, because a few more cars and he's top five. Just a little bit more after that and he'll meet Jungkook at the front. Victory is not as far away anymore.
“How's Jungkook doing?”
“Currently P2. Fighting for P1. Max took it.”
“Good.” It comes out in a sigh, low.
He hears Jimin laugh, and he can imagine the way he shakes his head. Taehyung doesn't care if it seems selfish that he wants his own teammate to lose. He promises this childish behaviour will last only for today.
But being the bigger person has never meant winning, has it?
Little does Taehyung know how much Jungkook is struggling at the front. His tires are starting to give him problems. He tries to focus on the car before him, trying to find the way to overpass him. He can’t stand being behind another car for too long. Now that Seokjin is gone, it all falls between Max and him. They fight like two kids trying to reach the front of the lunch line first.
“Fucking hell,” Jungkook groans, stress rising through his body. “Joon, is it the tires? I feel like I’m stuck. What the fuck is going on?”
“The tires are fine,” Namjoon says through the radio. “The gap isn’t much. You can still pass him. Keep it up.”
Jungkook accelerates, slowly getting closer and closer to the Red Bull. His eyes glare with determination. He wants to see the chequered flag first, but for now he needs to beat Max with the spot. There are more laps to go, but Jungkook isn’t patient enough to wait. He needs it now.
“Next turn is coming. Give him space.”
“How—I’m not going to give him space!” Jungkook huffs into the microphone. He sounds breathless, which he is. His body is stuck to the seat, his muscles tremble. “I won’t hit him. You know this.”
“Be careful, Kook.”
“I am, trust me.”
Because of race rules, he is not able to pass Max at that moment, but he does not give him as much space as Namjoon was saying. He stays close, carefully close. He’s trying not to think about what Taehyung is doing and how bad he’s probably losing right now. That’s going to look bad for the team. Hopefully Yoongi doesn't get mad.
When the next lap begins, Jungkook lets out something that sounds like a scream and a groan. He cannot believe it’s taking him so long to overtake a Red Bull. It feels like years, just watching the other car’s ass.
“Kook, Max is doing box.” Fucking fantastic. “We either take the chance now for you to come in, or you keep on.”
“Nah, no way,” Jungkook scoffs. “I keep on. Let’s leave him behind.”
* * *
Jung Hoseok (@jungf1news): Kim Taehyung overtakes Ferrari driver, Carlos Sainz. He officially reaches P5!
Taehyung can’t believe it. He’s in shock, to say the least. The way he’s gotten up here faster than he thought. His pride's growth? It’s over the helmet. He can't slap the satisfaction off his face. His tone with words changes as well, but it's nothing out of the ordinary.
After all, confidence in Formula 1 is a must. And his own went up twice as much when P10 was overpassed.
If you have no confidence with the race, no confidence in your driving skills or the quick game of feet inside the car, then it's not for you. But, Taehyung? This is for him. Racing is his life and holding that trophy will prove it.
So P4 it becomes, and his heart pumps.
Time flies by faster than any of the cars ever could. The race is a few laps away to finish and Taehyung is incredibly thrilled. After a challenging corner, Jeon Jungkook officially overtakes Verstappen while Kim makes it to P3. Jungkook is completely unaware of Taehyung being two positions away from obtaining his.
Jimin speaks up, “Good position. Two seconds.”
“How can I get closer?”
“Sit there for now.”
Taehyung groans, accelerating. “I can’t just sit here!”
“Taehyung, we’re happy with the gap to Max.” Taehyung doesn’t listen.
He hears Jimin let out a long sigh on the other end. He tells him to calm down. This must have to do with some technique he and Namjoon spoke with Yoongi. The racers are not allowed to know about these, and it only infuriates Taehyung even more. If he thinks he’s about to let Jungkook win over some stupid conversation behind walls, then they’re wrong.
He’s sure that his decision on not following instructions will be in the news somewhere after the race. Taehyung pushes on the pedal and Jimin lets out another long breath. “The gap is now 1.7. Push.”
“I am pushing, Jimin,” he complains. The radio turns off and Taehyung lets out an annoyed groan. He ends up saying, “Just leave it to me.” Jimin doesn't reply.
The Red Bull and Mercedes stand wheel to wheel, right on the straight section of the circuit. Taehyung doesn't know if Jungkook is aware that he's a few seconds behind his ass, but he wishes he'll find out the moment he passes by.
Taehyung needs that position. He really fucking needs it.
They are head to head, Red Bull and Mercedes, soon to reach the curve. It's his chance. If he misses it now, then it will add a few more seconds to his time. The gap might become wider, and that is something he doesn't want.
So when it comes, and the curve is on the tip of his nose—the car darts.
And he does it. He drives right past Verstappen and into position number two, right behind his biggest competitor; his own teammate. His radio turns on for him to hear everyone’s cheers. His brother is yelling encouraging words, Yoongi chanting “Get in there, Taehyung” , and lastly Jimin, who is just laughing. Like he always is, apparently.
“Alright, Taehyung, P2, P2,” Jimin comes on. He sounds as excited as Taehyung, trying to stay calm and professional. “Great job. What do you think about going to the end with these tires?”
Taehyung chuckles. He can't believe he made it all the way here. “It's fine. No box.”
“Copied.”
His teammate drives a few seconds away. Jeon Jungkook, who has been karting since six years old, claimed the first ever pole position in a national event; the boy who began Formula 3 as soon as he turned sixteen—the one who got to fucking skip the rest of the steps because he was fully born with the talent. He is right there, right here, ready to fall behind Taehyung’s power behind the wheel.
“Jimin, what's the gap?” he asks again with his foot pressing just a tad bit harder.
“1 second, Tae. Come on, give it everything.”
The tension is killing him; the anticipation. He's so close to a number of things. Not only will he prove himself to the world, but also to his negative teammate. Things could change between them. Everything could become better. All over one race.
But they could also become worse.
Because for Jungkook, in his mind, his life is what will take a downturn if he loses this specific race; the first of the season. No one else might understand, but it will be of great embarrassment if he does, no matter who it is against.
“Jungkook,” Namjoon says, “Taehyung is five seconds behind.”
Jungkook’s mind goes fully blank. He feels like he loses the grip on the wheel, and his feet become jittery. Namjoon's voice brings him back. That one second he drifted off felt like eternity. He could have lost his spot for being so careless.
“Taehyung's getting closer. Careful.” Jungkook pushes a little harder and is able to widen the gap, changing it to a 5.7, almost six full seconds.
“Are we good?” he questions.
Namjoon hums. Jungkook pushes twice as much. “Kook, we can't afford to hurt the tires at this stage. Don’t add force to them.”
“I'm not going to let him pass me, Namjoon,” he hisses, turning swiftly on the curve. “He needs to back off.”
“I repeat: we cannot afford to hurt the tires. It's our best compound.” But Jungkook doesn't listen and continues going strong.
The car suddenly bumps. He knew this would happen. He’s such a fucking idiot. It feels like something ran out, like something is missing. Jungkook doesn't need to ask to know that the worn out tires are the cause of this sensation.
Another Mercedes passes right beside him, making him curse. Before he can accelerate some more, he feels a collision.
“What the—Joon!” he cries out with exasperation. “He bumped into me! Kim hit me!”
The radio turns on, “Wasn't him. Max lost control and hit a tire. We need to box now.”
“Hell no. If we box, then I lose position—”
“You already lost the position. Come to the box now.”
Jungkook does as told. With every other car being way behind, and Verstappen deciding to box right now, it’s the best he could do. Taehyung drives away, P1 looking good on him. Jungkook feels jittery as he enters the pit lane, watches how it takes less than a second to get the tires changed.
He drives out of the pit stop once the light turns green and sees Taehyung right before him. “I basically gave him the position for free!” Jungkook yells, voice deep with anger.
“Next time box earlier, then,” Namjoon shoots back, which is not fair at all because Namjoon, as his race engineer, should have also encouraged a change of tires back then. “For now, concentrate. You’ve got a teammate to reach.”
“To beat.”
If the pressure was real before, then now it drowns them, leaving them with no oxygen. Taehyung is incredibly fast, Jungkook can most definitely confirm that. The rest of the cars are forgotten, and now his only target is his teammate.
The laps go by in a snap.
There’s one more lap to go, soon enough. Reaching the finish line had always been effortless; all by himself. And when there is a fight to put up, Jungkook has never lost confidence. But now he drives beside Taehyung, front to front, as if it were to be a tie. It feels surreal. Neither of them know how they arrived at this position, but it’s aggravating to be like this.
“Fuck! He’s not letting me take over!” It’s stressful and makes him want to pull out his hair. His foot can’t possibly go any lower or else the car will explode, and they’re already going at their maximum.
Then they see it; the chequered flag.
Both drivers accelerate. The cars vibrate and roar. The audience cheers loudly, louder than ever at this almost never seen before situation. The finish line is right there, yet it feels like a thousand years to reach it.
The two of them want this. The reasons are different, but one thing is for sure.
There is only one trophy.
They both turn to look, their eyes barely being able to catch onto one another. And right at this moment, when both go back to staring forward—time falls to a long cut motion. It feels slower, like someone stopped it. The wheels turn and roll as if some editor were to make a movie become gradual. Jungkook’s ears start to beep as reality falls on his shoulders all over again.
All those years of winning to make his mother smile.
All that money.
Everything rolls down from his hands, at least for this specific race. It sounds dramatic, and he knows it is, maybe for the rest, but not for him, not completely. But in life you can’t always expect to win.
Whenever you think you’re the best, someone always has to remind you that you’re not. If you’re not as lucky as some are born to be, there will always be someone who’s better than what you trained yourself to be.
Taehyung has done a good job. Today he was better— is better
The crowd grows wild when the Mercedes crosses the finish line. They clap, jump, hug. The fireworks go off in the night sky. Music plays louder than the weeping in the back of Jungkook’s head…
Because Jungkook loses for just a millisecond.
As for Taehyung? He deserves this win more than ever.
* * *
Taehyung and Jungkook don’t make eye contact when they step out of the car. Not when they’re congratulated, not when they’re given their trophies and the champagne. Nothing. They have to sit beside one another for the press conference, which turns out to be a pain in the ass.
Taehyung’s questions are all about him not being a real driver and how his racing spot was handed over for free, while Jungkook’s are shameful, making him feel worse about losing. They tell him that after this race he will keep losing, that he has been jinxed. They have to reply in the most calming way possible.
The questions make Taehyung a little bit angry, but the buzz of winning the way he did beats over it. Jungkook, on the other hand, blinks his eyes the best he can to keep the tears from leaving his eyes, because what the hell is he supposed to tell his mother now?
He sits in his private room, the suit now off and thrown over the couch. He feels disgusting. His phone is on his lap as he sips from his water bottle. He goes directly to his mother’s contact. She’ll call at any moment.
Jungkook really wishes she doesn’t. He can’t bear to listen to her voice.
The phone lights up, his mother’s icon appearing. Jungkook takes a deep breath, blinks his eyes a little faster and wipes away the tears that have been able to escape his eyes.
“Kookie! I watched the race, good job, sweetheart, you did amazing!”
Jungkook covers his face with his free hand. Of course his mother would congratulate him. The heaviness in his heart burns. His mother wouldn’t be watching the race alone if it hadn’t been because of him. But he knows that even if things continued to be like when he was just a kid, then she’d be calling alone anyway, because Jungkook’s father would have already gone somewhere else.
“I lost, though,” Jungkook says with a shaky voice.
She laughs softly. Jungkook’s always loved her laugh, but now she just sounds exhausted, with coughs in between those cheerful giggles. “You finished second, darling.”
“That’s like”—his nose is becoming runny, his mother probably knows he’s crying—“being the first one to lose. I’m so sorry. I really wanted to bring that trophy to you and the twins, but I failed.”
“No, no, Kookie. Sweetheart, why are you apologising? Didn’t you get a trophy too?”
“I mean, yeah, but it’s number two! I can’t show the twins that their older brother is a number two! They’ll lose hope in me. Just like you know who did.” His mother tells him it’s not true, but Jungkook can’t seem to believe her. She tells him not to think about him, that he’s not there anymore.
It’s fine, it’s fine. Jungkook has been repeating those words since the day he started karting. Those words became his last hope the moment he turned sixteen as well.
“You’re sensitive right now because it’s the first time it has happened after so long.”
“Ugh, yeah I know.” He falls back on the couch and lifts his left leg to the wall behind it. “I deserved it, though. Kinda. I was a little mean to my teammate. He’s an ass, though.”
“Don’t call people that word. It’s rude. Do we need to have another chat about your attitude?” Jungkook groans loudly, wiping away another tear running down his cheek. Tears are fucking annoying. He has too many of them stored inside of him. “Remember, winning isn’t everything. Get that out of your head. Oh, and bring me grandkids.”
Jungkook chokes on his own saliva. “I’m only twenty one! I don’t even have a boyfriend yet!”
“Then go get one already! Stop watching romcoms and get some real romance!”
There is a knock on the door. Jungkook sits up, glares. He tells his mother he has to go, thankfully because this conversation was going nowhere, but at the same time he feels upset that someone would cut short the phone call. His mother sends him kisses through the phone and Jungkook does it right back.
“Who is it?” he calls once he has hung up.
Taehyung walks in. Jungkook’s tongue falls out as he gags at his face. Taehyung really couldn’t come at a better time? He was crying, for Christ's sake. A man seriously can’t cry in peace anymore.
“What do you want, you long leg monster?” Jungkook asks and leans against the couch. He crosses a leg, holds both hands over his thighs, and tries to act as fine as possible, like he doesn’t want to punch the shit out of Taehyung or like he has been crying for fifteen minutes straight like a baby.
“Long leg—whatever, not the point.” He shakes his head, mumbling that more to himself. “I came here to show you my trophy, in case you don’t know what they look like.”
Jungkook giggles. “If you’re going to attack me for losing, at least do it well and with your own comebacks.” He breathes and places both hands behind his head. “You’re recycling my bullying tactics.”
“So you agree you were bullying me?”
“No. I see it more like… an aggressive approach. Did it work?”
“You approached me real fine,” Taehyung grunts. He puts down the trophy and runs a hand through his hair. “Alright, listen. This is ridiculous, you know that? We’re from the same team. We need to be a team. What do you say? I’m here to raise a white flag. To make peace.”
Jungkook honestly did not expect that. He guesses that could be the best they could do after today. After Taehyung ran over him, won, beat him, and any other synonym that fits the fact that Jungkook lost the greatest spot. Becoming friends would finally stop their rivalry and it could make losing not seem as shitty anymore, not when the team holds the best points.
“That sounds fantastic,” Jungkook says with a smile.
Taehyung’s eyebrows go up, like he didn’t think Jungkook would actually agree. They both seem to be full of surprises today.
Taehyung mumbles an “ok” and offers his hand, open for Jungkook to take and shake. The way he skips over to Taehyung is in a way too adorable manner. There are dimples on his cheeks, barely visible. He stands before him, takes Taehyung’s hand with force, the smile never leaving his face.
“Actually, I have a better idea,” Jungkook tells him.
“And I, as your teammate, am up for listening.”
“Good.”
Jungkook forcefully pulls Taehyung closer, until both their noses are beside one another. Taehyung’s eyebrows stick together, his eyes watching deeply into Jungkook’s.
“So I was thinking… Why don’t you take that pretty little white flag of yours…”
Taehyung lets out a long sigh through his nose, already knowing what Jungkook is going to say. His eyes fall into a heavy glare. He feels like a fool coming all the way here to make peace. He holds Jungkook’s hand back just as tight. Jungkook’s smile becomes more like a smirk, he leans closer. Taehyung tries to contain himself not to pounce on him and throw him on the floor.
“And shove it,” he snorts, smirk growing, “up… your fucking—”
Taehyung’s eyes follow the way Jungkook’s lips move, how he very carefully pronounces the words for Taehyung to fully understand. To be quite honest, Jungkook could speak any language he desires and Taehyung would understand his shitty behaviour.
“…Ass.” He boops Taehyung’s nose.
It’s the smile that does it for him. How sweet he says it, too. Like he just invited him out for dinner. Taehyung knocks him away, removing his hands from his own.
As he turns around to let himself calm down, Jungkook bursts out laughing. It must be funny how easy it is to rile Taehyung up.
“What is it that fails to function on your damn brain?” Taehyung asks then, wiping his hand through the air as if he’s bound to slap something. “I’m trying to be a good fucking teammate to you. What is it?”
Jungkook rolls his eyes dramatically. “Just get out. You didn’t need to come here. My purpose here is to beat everyone on the grid and make my team win.”
“Our team, Jungkook,” Taehyung says strictly, both hands together in front of him as he emphasises on the words. “You weren’t like this with Seokjin. Why do you have to hate me so much?”
“You’re not Seokjin, so I don’t see why I should treat you like you are.”
“I’m not asking you to be in love with me, smart-ass.”
“I was not in love with Seokjin. And I’m not right now either,” Jungkook hisses while pointing a finger at Taehyung’s face.
“You sure? Because it seemed like you were, baby.” Taehyung continues, already feeling himself gaining the upper hand. “I remember he used to call you that.”
“Shut up.” Jungkook sits down with crossed arms and stares at the wall with angry eyes.
“I’ll shit up if you stop being such an ass over every little thing. Christ, I don’t need you to invite me over and watch a movie. I don’t need any of that shit. I’m just asking for your damn respect for this team to work!”
“It won’t work!” Jungkook stands up all over again. “Because you’re just a shitty driver who was handed over everything the rest of us had to go through.”
Taehyung’s smirk falls. They’re both throwing their lowest points; the sensitive topics that each of them despise the most to speak of. This time Jungkook laughs as he walks closer. He laughs at Taehyung’s face, laughs mostly at how ridiculous everything seems to be.
“Oh, now you’re not laughing? Is it because I’m the only one here who refuses to praise you?” Jungkook asks.
“I don’t need your praise. I don’t need anyone’s praise.”
“You need everyone’s praise because even you know you shouldn’t be here.”
“Was that race not enough proof? I’ve tried to tell you, the world, that I’ve been practising with this damn team—”
“No.” Jungkook taps him on the chest, shoves him a little. “You know what will prove it? Start by heading back to Formula 3, where you belong, and unless they plead you to join F1 and skip F2, then maybe I will think about praising you.”
“Not everyone gets to have the same luck that you had, Jungkook. What you’re asking from me is simply not possible.”
“My spot, sweetheart, was no luck. And of course it’s not possible. You know why?” Jungkook crosses his arms, tilts his head to the side. Taehyung doesn’t ask why. “Because, as I said, you’re just another shitty driver—”
“You’re a fucking ass—”
“—who was paid through the grid—”
“And you're bratty fucking kid—”
“—with daddy’s fucking money.”
That’s about it.
Daddy’s money. That does it.
Taehyung pushes him onto the couch, not caring where Jungkook’s back lands. Jungkook falls with a loud scream, the coffee table in front of the couch flipping over as Taehyung lands over him. The trophy moves from side to side at the room’s shaking, but thankfully it doesn’t fall. There’s a loud bang that echoes through the room. Taehyung holds Jungkook’s arms beside his head, pinned up.
He has been restraining himself from doing this, but there’s something about Jungkook’s face that makes Taehyung want to knock some sense into it. Even more is the fact that he brought his dad into this. He doesn’t dare punch him, though. That could get him kicked out of the team… but maybe some shoving could do him some good.
“You’re so childish!” he screams right at his face, red with anger. He actually looks kind of scary. Everything is way too loud. His voice is too much. “Why can’t you just be normal?!”
“I am normal!” Jungkook kicks him on the side, his knee going right onto Taehyung’s knee. “Get off me, you freak!”
“I’m trying to make peace with you, and you just won’t listen—”
“Make peace somewhere else, bitch!”
Jungkook tries to get up, but Taehyung moves his arms now over his chest, crossing them for him not to move. Taehyung’s sweating, putting all his strength on his arms to keep Jungkook there, and he pushes him down a little bit more, just to prove a point.
“What happened to you? Huh? What happened to that cute boy I met when I was twenty?!” Jungkook scoffs, his eyes looking somewhere else. Taehyung tries to follow them, to force him to stare right back. “You were so kind back then. You were so shy. What happened, huh?”
“He’s pissed because you ruined his pants,” Jungkook shoots right back. “Get off me!”
“Why didn’t you dance with me? Did you hate me back then as well? Just admit it, you were in love with my brother!”
“You’re fucking weird!”
Jungkook adds another kick towards Taehyung’s side. It has the older racer losing his balance, with his knee almost meeting Jungkook’s groin. Jungkook yells louder than ever, a high pitch scream; horror plastered on his face, scared that his balls are going to be stepped on.
“Be fucking careful! My mum wants grandkids!” Jungkook exclaims.
“You’re fucking ugly,” Taehyung grunts, “no one will like you, anyway.”
“Me? Look at you! You look like the fucking Hulk!”
The door slams open. Yoongi appears with Namjoon and Seokjin. Jimin stands outside, watching everything. Seokjin takes Taehyung from the torso and pulls him back. Taehyung looks like a cockroach, trying to scramble at Jungkook.
“Let me go—”
“You two are acting like children!” Yoongi yells.
“It was him!” Jungkook says and points at Taehyung.
“It was not me!”
“I don’t care who it was!” Seokjin steps in. Everyone falls quiet at his loud voice. He rubs two fingers on his forehead. “You guys are meant to be teammates. I don’t care if you hate each other behind the cameras, but in front of them you better act like you fucking love each other.”
Even Yoongi seems surprised at his outburst. Taehyung is used to Seokjin scolding him, but Jungkook isn’t, so he keeps himself in a ball, ignoring his gaze. Taehyung analyses this, lifts an eyebrow at him. Seokjin must be one of Jungkook’s weaknesses, but he’s not sure why.
Jungkook and Taehyung share a look, then go back to staring at Seokjin. They nod at the same time. Seokjin inhales a deep breath, raises a thumbs up at them and leaves, mumbling that he needs a beer and a pizza as soon as possible.
As everyone starts to leave, Jungkook pokes his tongue out at Taehyung, who flashes him the middle finger before walking out of the room.
* * *
Both racers find themselves with purple marks on their skin by bed time. Taehyung has two bruises on his thighs, where Jungkook kicked him, and one on the ribs. Jungkook has his wrists completely bruised, as well as his hip.
Funnily enough, they send one another, at the very same time, pictures of the bruises, with a caption that says: “Look at what you fucking did.” Jungkook tells Taehyung he should shave his hairy legs first because he can't see the bruises very well, and Taehyung tells him he looks like a kinky bitch that likes to be tied up.
As always, the conversation ends with a middle finger and a “fuck you, goodnight”.
From: Handsome Teammate Who Beat Me I Guess [23:12]
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Look at what you fucking did
To: Handsome Teammate Who Beat Me I Guess [23:12]
Look at what you fucking did
[Picture]
Omfg ew. Shave your hairy arse legs dimwit
From: Handsome Teammate Who Beat Me I Guess [23:12]
Cover up your wrists you kinky arse imbecile
To: Handsome Teammate Who Beat Me I Guess [23:12]
Fuck you
Goodnight
From: Handsome Teammate Who Beat Me I Guess [23:13]
Fuck you right back
Sleep well
To: Handsome Teammate Who Beat Me I Guess [23:13]
You too
Asshole
From: Handsome Teammate Who Beat Me I Guess [23:13]
Bitch
The next day, they are told to be ready by ten and to wait at the hotel’s lobby. They sit far from each other, staring away. Taehyung has his phone out, listening to music, while Jungkook plays Zelda on his Switch. They share glares every now and then, but it never gets to the point of actually speaking up. Jungkook thinks that if he were to hear Taehyung’s voice right now, he’d kick him on the balls.
When Seokjin said they had to act like they loved each other, he really meant it, because now they are on their way to film a video for Formula 1’s official YouTube channel; a challenge video for the fans.
The two will be sat in tiny, baby cars and drive around a smaller racetrack that has balloons full of coloured powder; red and blue. At the slightest of touches, the balloons will immediately explode, so both drivers are told to wear goggles and a special, funny looking suit.
Recording the intro takes about six takes. They’re meant to be holding each other by the shoulders, arms around each other. Jungkook stands with his back straight to show off his height, so Taehyung does the same, lifting his neck a little bit more so he can prove he's taller.
Just for one centimetre, but he’s sure it will make Jungkook run wild.
Next is getting into the cars. They are recorded doing so. Neither of them fit because of their long legs. Their knees are high up, legs to the side so they can see well through the middle. It’s funny and all, sure. Seokjin and Yoongi are laughing, but little do they know the two drivers are above to have race 2.0 with this little game.
“Gonna beat your ass, Kim,” Jungkook says with a way too forced smile.
“Oh, no, no. I’ll beat yours,” Taehyung replies, with a smile just as wide. He leans closer and pulls on Jungkook’s cheek. “Baby. Look at you, a baby in a baby car.”
Jungkook’s face changes completely. It falls. He slaps Taehyung’s hand away and prepares himself for the honk to go off. When it does, they both push on the tiny accelerator pedals. The baby cars are incredibly slow, so they’re right next to each other.
As soon as they reach a balloon, Jungkook takes out one leg from the car, the one that is on Taehyung’s side, and uses it to kick Taehyung down. Taehyung falls on his side, letting out a yelp, landing right onto the balloon. His face is splattered with blue and the car’s wheels continue to move.
“That’s cheating!” Taehyung complains while trying to get back up.
No one does anything. The crew laughs loudly and claps as encouragement. They keep recording and even zoom in on Taehyung being stuck inside the stupid, tiny car. His legs can’t come out. He’s far too tall and big in any sense for it.
“Make peace with it!” Jungkook yells, turning his face to look back. It causes him to run into a red balloon, his whole face and hair splattered red. “No—fuck! This is your fault, Kim!”
“Make peace with that!” Taehyung finally gets back up and starts to drive. He looks ridiculous. They both do. This is so embarrassing.
“You’re like a recycling machine,” Jungkook groans while having to reverse. Somehow Taehyung catches up to him, just a few centimetres behind. “No originality. Lack of talent, lack of intelligence, lack of looks. You’re crusty.”
The last one is a lie. Taehyung’s stunning, even with blue paint on his face.
But his beauty is not enough to distract him. After another seven exploded balloons, crashing against each other and yelling, Jungkook wins the challenge and jumps out easily, raising his arms in victory. Taehyung gives up with the dumb car and gets out. He claps his hands, face full of bitterness, but they play it off as if it were part of the joke, as if every hatred thrown around has been fake.
Yoongi’s eyes at the back are spooky, so they both share a hug, tap each other’s backs and smile for the camera. At Yoongi’s thumbs up, they let out breaths of relief.
The moment the cameras are turned away, the two of them let go of each other and walk opposite ways. Jungkook doesn’t ever want to hug Taehyung in his life again. His stupid rich smelling cologne is all over him now.
“Jungkook,” Yoongi says as he walks up to him. He throws an arm around his shoulder. “You did well. Thank you for being kind to him today. Even though you kicked him over and then he looked like a turtle who got flipped over.”
“His fault for having a huge ass. Got him stuck in there.” Yoongi laughs under his breath and it makes Jungkook smile. Whenever he’s able to get a chuckle out of Yoongi, he feels complete pride in his heart.
“Yeah, well,” Yoongi runs a hand through Jungkook’s red hair. “You guys seem to be getting along… after yesterday. Seems like the Kim brothers enjoy calling you baby, huh?”
Jungkook rolls his eyes as he takes off the goggles; his whole face is red, except for the circles around his eyes. Is everyone going to start reminding him about Seokjin’s pet names every single day now? “It’s not the same. Taehyung is not my friend.”
“You’ll grow to like him. Trust me.”
“As if.” They stop walking for a moment. Jungkook looks over at Yoongi, a hand on his tummy. “Enough Taehyung talk. Can we go out to eat? I’m hungry.”
Yoongi smiles wide and full of fondness. “Sure. And it’s never enough Taehyung talk, just so you know.”
“Yeah, well, whatever.” Jungkook lets out a long breath and pulls down the zipper of his suit. “It’s not like I’m going to marry him or whatever.”
Yoongi’s smile only becomes bigger as he pulls on Jungkook’s cheek. “I don’t expect you to. Go change. I’ll see you outside.”
Jungkook enters the changing room and heads for the sink. Taehyung’s already there, cleaning his hair by shaking his head like a dog. He looks funny, with his hair all over the place, looking way longer than it usually tends to look. He’s already taken off the suit and is wearing shorts, plus a black shirt with some drawing at the front.
Jungkook takes the sink farthest from him and takes off his suit, leaving him in the clothes he wore underneath. When Taehyung looks up, his cheeks are blue, the powder not fully off just yet.
“Hey,” he mumbles and takes some water on his hands to remove the blue.
Jungkook doesn’t reply. He looks away and begins to wash his face.
Jungkook opens his eyes, water running down his face, to see Taehyung’s face take a brisk change at his absent reply. The way Taehyung’s eyebrows are pushed together, the way he throws his head back with irritation and looks up at the ceiling like he can’t breathe… it’s a look that Jungkook finds all too familiar, and he really wishes it didn’t.
It’s when Taehyung turns to look at him again through the mirror, with his hair messy after running his hands through it, that Jungkook remembers: this is exactly how he looked at the wedding; distressed, out of breath, exasperated.
“Come on, Jungkook, it’s just a tie.”
“Well, it’s not perfect.” Jungkook grumbles and pulls on the tie again, trying to straighten it out. It’s not cooperating and they’ve already been inside this damn bathroom for about thirty minutes. Jungkook doesn’t plan on leaving until it’s perfect.
“Come on,” Seokjin hurries him. “We’re going to miss the first cut of the cake. And I really, really want some of that cake, Kookie.”
“There!” Jungkook smiles with his nose scrunching. “Perfect. Let’s go.” Seokjin claps his hand sarcastically and takes a hold of his wrist, pulling him out of the bathroom.
They walk together through the hotel’s hallway, making their way to the wedding party. The music can be heard from afar, the people cheering as well. Seokjin gasps and pulls him with all the strength he’s got, running to the room.
Jungkook is still unable to comprehend how his two friends (or at least by now he would like to consider them as such) are getting married only at the age of twenty five. Honestly, by that age, all Jungkook wants is a new trophy, not a diamond ring.
The moment they enter the room, they see the knife meeting the bottom of the cake. Everyone erupts into loud claps. Namjoon and Jimin share a kiss before handing over the knife, for the servers, for them to prepare the plates with the cakes.
“We missed it.”
Jungkook shakes his head. “You only missed the knife entry, but we saw it touch the bottom.”
Seokjin looks at him with no expression at all, to which Jungkook smiles and offers two thumbs up. “You make me want to jump out of a window. Here, come with me. I need to present someone to you.”
“I don’t want to meet anyone.”
“They’re important to me.”
Important? “Is it… a boyfriend?” Jungkook asks, with his eyes on the floor, then up at Seokjin. Seokjin bursts out laughing, throwing his head back, but he doesn’t reply. Instead, he continues to walk, pulling Jungkook by the hand.
They reach a round table. It’s half empty. Everyone is talking, drinking champagne. There’s a man with his back turned to them, with his arm around a blonde woman. She has a bun in her hair, very pretty. Then someone points at them and the guy turns around.
“Jinnie!” he says happily and stands up. “Where were you?”
“In the bathroom, helping this one get his tie perfect,” Seokjin replies. Jungkook stands beside him, completely rigid. The other guy is absolutely beautiful, hair styled to show off his forehead. His bowtie is undone and his shirt is unbuttoned. “Tae, this is Jungkook.”
“Formula 1 champion,” Tae says. He points at Jungkook with his champagne glass. “Nice to meet you. Seokjin has told me a lot about you. And I’ve…read a lot about you.” Jungkook nods and looks away, down at his shoes.
“Jungkook, this is Taehyung,” Seokjin taps Taehyung’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “My younger brother. Formula 3 racer at the moment.”
Brother. Jungkook knew Seokjin had a brother, but he never officially met him, never even cared enough to read about him or search for him. Jungkook offers a tight smile. His eyes can only be on Taehyung’s for a few seconds, then back down at the floor.
“Oh,” Taehyung says and moves to the side. “This is my girlfriend, Hana.” Hana turns around with a scowl.
Seokjin hums. “Hana,” he says in a very formal manner. One nod of his head, a slight bow.
“Hello, Seokjin,” she fakes a smile. Jungkook feels uneasy at her presence.
“Nice to meet you,” Jungkook mumbles.
“Pleasure’s all mine,” she says but doesn’t stand up. The smile on her face continues to not be genuine. She looks at Jungkook from head to toe, blinks like she’s seen something horrible, and turns back to the other people.
Taehyung looks uncomfortable, as if he also noticed the way she stared at Jungkook. He offers a laugh and points at an empty chair. “May I offer you a seat?”
Jungkook is already shaking his head. “No tha—”
“Yes, sit down, Jungkook. Get to know Taehyung.” Seokjin pushes him to the chair. Taehyung follows right behind, sitting beside him and smiling sweetly. “I’ll be with Namjoon.”
“You’re leaving me here?” Jungkook asks in a whisper, looking up at him.
Seokjin taps his shoulder, smiling a little. “I’ll be right back. I’ll bring you some cake.”
“Why can’t I just go with you? I can grab my own cake.”
“Because we can’t always be together.” Seokjin takes a hold of his cheek and pulls on it. “One day I’m gonna have to go on my own, you baby.”
Jungkook slaps his hand away with a scoff. “That’s ridiculous.” They will always be teammates, best friends, partners in crime. Seokjin wouldn’t leave him. Jungkook wouldn’t let him. He’s his comfort person.
Seokjin points a finger at Taehyung and winks. “Take care of him. He’s a handful. Be right back.” Jungkook complains under his breath but stays put. He keeps both hands in between his thighs, looking down at his lap.
He can feel Taehyung scooting closer, leaning over the table. Jungkook looks up, catches his eye, then looks down again. Taehyung is smiling, looking young and healthy with the way his skin glows. His hair is a light brown, probably dyed because Seokjin’s natural hair is dark brown.
“So… you and my brother, huh?” Taehyung asks, chuckling under his breath.
“He’s my teammate, yes.”
“No, I meant…” Taehyung points to where Seokjin just left, then at Jungkook. “Are you two not together? He never tells me about his love life, says it’s not my business.”
“We’re not together,” Jungkook tells him. He could never imagine it.
“Oh. I’m sorry. I thought you were.” Taehyung now looks scandalised. He leans against his chair, legs open. He tries to take a hold of his girlfriend’s hand, but she pushes him away. Taehyung clears his throat. Jungkook watches it all but doesn't say anything. “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t.”
Jungkook feels like an idiot. He always gets incredibly stiff when meeting someone new and not having someone else to back him up. Taehyung plays with his champagne glass, running the tip of his finger on the bottom, then tapping on it.
“Would you like some? I can go get you some,” he offers. Jungkook shakes his head, even adds a tiny smile to be kind and not seem like an asshole. “Well… would you like to dance?”
“Uh…” his cheeks begin to turn red. No one had ever asked him to dance. “No.”
Taehyung snorts, looks away with embarrassment. “That’s fine. Hana doesn’t like dancing either.”
“I like dancing,” Jungkook tells him. “But not in front of people I don’t know. That’s why I’ll never get married. So I don’t have to dance.” Maybe he shared a little too much, but when he’s nervous his tongue can’t stop moving and spilling out secrets.
Taehyung doesn’t judge him. He hums softly. “Understandable.”
A cake is placed down in front of him, a fork standing on the top. Seokjin then falls on the chair beside Jungkook’s and smiles at them. Jungkook thanks him for the cake and takes the fork out, ready to eat.
“Here, Tae, I brought you some too.”
“Oh, thank you!”
When Taehyung stretches his arms to take the cake, his elbow knocks the champagne glass and it spills right onto Jungkook’s pants. Taehyung catches the glass before it lands on the floor and looks at Jungkook with apologetic eyes. Great, these pants were new.
“I’m so sorry, Jungkook.”
Jungkook sighs and puts down the fork. “It’s fine.” He stands up, feels the champagne soak up even more. “Excuse me, I will be right back.”
“I’ll go with you.”
Jungkook doesn’t want him to, really doesn’t, but Taehyung follows him through the room, and out to the hallway. Jungkook tries telling him that it’s fine, that he can clean himself just fine, but Taehyung continues to offer his help.
To Jungkook’s luck and Taehyung’s dismay, he can't reach the bathroom. Hana appears out of nowhere and yells at Taehyung from behind. Jungkook continues walking and reaches the bathroom.
“Where the fuck are you going?” she asks, throwing her arms in the air. Jungkook stops at the bathroom door, slowly turning around to see. “You left me alone back there!”
“I needed to help—”
“So you leave your girlfriend? What the fuck, Taehyung?”
She continues to yell, while Taehyung takes a deep breath, looks like he’s out of breath and throws his head back. He runs his hands through his hair, then covers his face. There is tiredness in his eyes, exasperation. Jungkook feels bad for him.
He must have felt the lingering gaze, because he turns to look at the bathroom and meets Jungkook’s eyes.
Jungkook looks away with shame and closes the bathroom door.
He would never admit it to anyone, but at that time, his eighteen year old mind couldn’t stop thinking about Taehyung’s proposal to dance. He stayed awake all night lamenting himself for not having taken the offer.
On the other hand, he’s glad he didn’t, because that would have made Taehyung’s night insufferable with his girlfriend, even more than it already was.
Now that Jungkook thinks about it, he hasn’t seen nor heard about her in a while. He’ll have to ask. Not because he cares about Taehyung being single or anything, but because she was very rude, and… well, nobody deserves that.
Nobody deserves a stupid, twenty one year old racer shitting on them every single day, either.
There’s a feeling creeping up inside him. These are the types of things that Jungkook would wish he couldn’t remember or ignore. Though he finds Taehyung’s whole being quite irritating, he can’t help but feel pity over that one night. Not only over Taehyung, but also over himself.
That sensation that chokes him is probably regret, full of guilt, because Jungkook knows—and Taehyung must know as well—that after that night, if they both had tried to meet again just like Seokjin suggested, then this rivalry wouldn’t be happening right now.
That day they fought after the race, they both knew it. Even if Taehyung asked what it is he has to do for Jungkook to stop hating him, even if Jungkook won’t take back the words he spit—they’re not idiots, at least not that much. Things could have been better.
They still can be, but Jungkook has his reasons. Some people might never understand; some even he, himself, continues to question.
If he does let Taehyung in… If he agrees to open his arms for a new person to enter his circle, then they’ll be crowded, and soon enough Taehyung will leave when realising Jungkook is not that great; not what everyone says he is. He might laugh and make the rest realise that Jungkook isn’t that good of a racer anyway, that it’s just the car that makes him fast. And maybe, maybe, the rest will believe him.
And then Jungkook will have no seat. He will be left alone.
So he cannot let that happen.
Jungkook grabs some paper from the side of the sink and barely dries his face. He grabs his bag and rushes out of the bathroom, hopefully leaving all of his insecurities behind.