Chapter Text
When the news arrives, Jungkook feels his heart give out. What was supposed to be told in a meeting is instead informed through the television, with reporters announcing the retirement of a driver, a famous racer who has been next to Jungkook ever since he joined the team, and who will take over their spot.
Anyone is fine—anyone else would have been fine. His (now past) driver teammate, Kim Seokjin, is leaving the team to retire from being a racer, from being a champion, if anything. Jungkook and he have been together through everything. They are quite good friends—at least Jungkook believes so—which is why he fails to comprehend why Seokjin would leave without even sparing a word on his decision.
Or how everyone else seemed to completely forget Jungkook should also be informed.
Worse is that they should have, as stated before, had at least one meeting to discuss the matter. They’re supposed to be a team, right? Like Yoongi says all the time? If anything, Yoongi is a hypocritical CEO. As a boss, his job was to let everyone know, but not like this.
Hopefully this is all a big mistake. Maybe it was supposed to be spoken in a meeting, maybe it was uploaded as a hack. Maybe it isn’t even true because since when does Jungkook even listen to the news? More importantly, since when has he started believing the crap they say?
Enough rumours have been created thanks to the media, therefore he should never pay any bits of attention to it.
Of course, just when he is calming himself down by scrolling through social media, he comes upon Seokjin’s retweets. He sees none other than Jung Hoseok in his timeline, the best known Formula 1 documentarist. He’s never wrong, never creates fake news, never follows them. If he even dares to say the word “rumour” then it already means it is a fact.
Jung Hoseok (@jungf1news): It is official! Kim Seokjin will NOT be returning to this season’s competition! Rumour has it his younger brother, Kim Taehyung, is who will be taking over his spot in Mercedes.
Below are two pictures; one of Seokjin and the other of Taehyung. Jungkook clicks on the article and reads it as fast as possible.
It’s—fucking hell, it’s impossible. This never happens.
It shouldn’t bother him so much either, but he has worked his ass off to reach the spot he’s in, but now a big brother is allowed to drop his spot to give it so easily to his baby brother? If it was that easy, then anyone with an older brother can do whatever the hell they want as long as they have money.
It is ridiculous and most importantly unethical.
Anger in Jungkook is a problem. He has never dealt well with it. Growing up, Jungkook had to always keep his anger inside, let it bubble up until he couldn’t anymore and it would end up with him doing something he would later regret.
His mother always was able to calm him down, and so were his younger siblings, but once he started karting and training, family life became distant and his anger started to lose control. He tries his hardest now, and every now and then it is controlled, but every now and then there always is a miss.
Recently it has become a challenge to get him fired up, but this does it. Envy with a tint of disappointment must be in the mixture, but those are two words no one would even dare to speak out loud. These two are what he feels.
Then his phone rings, just in time.
The screen name of “Mercedes daddy” comes into view. He has had Yoongi like this ever since they became buddies. It took a while to get Yoongi to be open and even allow Jungkook to not call him boss or sir anymore.
“Took you long enough,” Jungkook says. His sock covered feet land on the coffee table before his couch. Even if it’s morning time, the room is dark, with the only light source being the expensive television. All the blinds are closed just the way he likes it; quiet and lonely.
“Jungkook,” Yoongi begins to say, already with a soft and careful tone. “I’m guessing you saw the news?”
“The hell do you think?” the racer stands up, making the couch creak behind him. “So there was going to be a change in the team and no one fucking told me? What the hell, Yoongi!”
“Watch your tone, remember I’m still your boss.”
“Then do your job right and let me know about these things,” Jungkook shrieks. He’s already pacing around the living room, angrily stomping his feet. “Is this why I have a sudden interview tomorrow? Is it to meet the new driver?”
“Yes, it’s so you can meet Taehyung.”
“Why didn’t Lisa tell me? Jimin? Namjoon?” Jungkook questions. His head is beginning to hurt.
While Yoongi is his boss, Lalisa Manoban is his personal advisor. They’re through water and fire together. She’s one of the few people Jungkook can speak freely to. After all, it is her job, but beyond that she’s also one of his best friends.
As for the married couple, Namjoon and Jimin, they are race engineers, both very close friends with him as well. The whole team is a family—mostly them. Jungkook has always been seen as a baby who needs to be told things slowly and with drawings. He hates it.
“We thought it would be better to take it slow. The news wasn’t supposed to come out.”
“So you thought it was better for me to find out until race day?” Jungkook questions with a scoff.
“No, you were going to find out at the interview tomorrow.”
“It feels… feels as if you were all planning this. Am I being replaced?”
“Seokjin is leaving, Jungkook. Not you.”
“Whatever. This is unbelievable. You guys always do this.” Jungkook ignores his response and removes the phone for a second from his ear in order to take a deep breath, then holds it closer. “I’m not a kid, Yoongi.”
“With the way you’re acting, I’d say you’re more of a bratty toddler.”
“Very funny.”
“Listen.” Yoongi sounds tired. His voice is deeper than usual, a little groggy. This must be making him just as stressed. Having a new driver has never been easy. “I will see you tomorrow at the interview. It’ll be good for you.”
“No it won’t.” His voice shakes. “I want Seokjin to stay. He can’t leave.”
“He can’t stay as a driver, and he won’t.”
Jungkook feels his lips twitch. His insides turn with betrayal. Seokjin cannot leave. “But…”
He can almost see Yoongi shaking his head. Jungkook knows Yoongi would never want this to happen either, at least not this fast. Jungkook remembers growing into the Mercedes team next to Seokjin.
It’s always been them.
“Seokjin will be working beside me now and as Taehyung’s new manager. He will still be there, Jungkook.” It’s like he knows what to say, which he obviously does. Jungkook does not listen, sadly. He bites both his top and bottom lip. “He’s not going to leave you behind. No more of him driving, however. I will see you tomorrow.”
He hangs up.
Jungkook closes his eyes and falls over the couch once more.
It all feels unreal.
Something so easy and non peculiar at all; something as simple as the man who has been driving beside him for all of his career officially leaving, only to hand over such a hardworking spot to another driver, his younger brother, who probably has done nothing but whine like a rich boy. Someone Jungkook barely knows.
He probably has seen him once, at Jimin and Namjoon’s wedding, but Jungkook was an antisocial growing boy who gagged for almost the whole wedding because love is that disgusting.
Yes, he was on that stage. Ew love. Ew couples. Ew kissing.
Jealousy is not something Jungkook enjoys to fight against nor with, but when it comes to what can be considered an “easy life” it truly gets to him. However, an “easy life” is as unreasonable and undebatable as the chances of flying without wings. No one can tell you how much is what, nor can they fight over how close you are to the sun.
For now he will have to wait and try to be professional.
With a glare at the floor and a new position on the couch, Jungkook aggressively wipes away the fighting tears in his eyes.
* * *
Cameras are being moved around the set, people rushing from side to side with papers. A lady offers Jungkook a blueberry muffin as soon as he steps inside the room. Yoongi walks right beside him, bag over his shoulder. He’s mumbling a few words of encouragement along the way, arm over Jungkook’s shoulder.
A helper takes them to a couch, where there is a screen for them to watch the current ongoing interview. Jungkook’s face falls immediately when he focuses on Kim Taehyung’s face. He’s who is currently being asked questions.
The smile on his face is wide, nodding to everything he’s being told. His hair is perfectly pushed back, showing off his forehead. His outfit consists of a vest and white shirt inside, with the sleeves folded up, showing off his biceps.
He is certainly captivating; looks quite handsome.
Fuck him.
Jungkook gulps and runs a hand through his hair, trying not to watch the screen. He doesn’t pay attention to anything else because he quite honestly doesn’t give two fucks about what Taehyung’s life consists of. Yes, he’s aware about how bitter he’s being, but he can’t help it, not when he had to fight so hard to even obtain an interview.
“He’ll be done soon,” Yoongi says. He crosses a leg over the other and leans back on the cushions. “Then you’ll go in, you both will sit together, answer a few things, then a break, go back in, and then you get out of there. Officially.”
“Why don’t I get an interview alone?”
“Because you’re not a new racer.”
Right, Taehyung is not a new racer. Does that mean he was right about him obtaining a spot so easily? Did he not go through the lower categories in order to arrive here?
“So I have to sit with him instead and act as if he’s some—I don’t know? Lucky star to the team? Sounds fantastic,” Jungkook says bitterly. He clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth, then pokes it against his cheek.
He hates sharing. What is his, is his. He worked for what he has.
This is why some parts of his life have never been good to begin with. The need to always be first is because he loves keeping the trophy for himself. His friends are his, his car is his, his racing number is his, and nothing should ever change that.
A hand lands on his thigh and taps twice. It has Jungkook waking up and looking over at Yoongi. He points at the screen, letting him know Taehyung is over with his solo interview. Jungkook doesn’t think he’s ready for this; for the interview, the questions. Even less to see Taehyung and Seokjin up close.
“I know you’re currently hating all of this,” Yoongi states and runs a hand down Jungkook’s back. That’s all he says. Yoongi’s encouraging words only come when Jungkook is giving a little of his own as well. “Come on, let’s get you ready.”
Jungkook is taken to sit on a chair in front of a mirror. A makeup artist retouches his makeup and hair, until everything is perfect and pristine. Through the mirror he faintly catches a glimpse of Taehyung walking over to Seokjin and Yoongi. They shake hands with wide smiles on their faces.
Jungkook closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.
“Stop worrying,” the makeup artist whispers.
“I’m not?” Jungkook replies while trying to ignore her gaze. His tone comes out harsher than intended, but it’s because he hates when people assume and this lady is currently doing just that.
“You’re a racer, aren’t you?” Jungkook nods, continuing to ignore her eyes. “You’re quite young. Cute too. Very adorable. My son is a fan of yours.” It’s hard, not to be or seem mean at times like this, but if this lady could stop talking, then it would be very appreciated.
“Thanks,” he mumbles, flinching a little when the makeup brush lands near his eye.
She finishes everything and pats his side for him to stand up. He avoids her whole body and face in order to rush for the entrance of the interview set. He watches from behind the curtain at the man who accommodates himself on the chair.
“Good luck there.” Jungkook really wishes people would leave him alone before an interview. Yoongi leans beside him with crossed arms. “You’ll be fine. Questions are kind, a few about your new teammate. Obviously.”
“I got it.”
“Seokjin won’t be part of this interview, just so you know.”
“I said I got it.” He doesn’t need to be reminded every second of the day that Seokjin isn’t part of the team anymore.
“I’m doing this for you.” Yoongi points a finger right at his face, a serious tone to his voice, contrasting on the twitch of his eyebrows. “I know you. Interviews were fun because Seokjin was there, but now he’s not. You get overwhelmed and frustrated and you end up doing something that makes you look bad or upset.”
Jungkook nods slowly. His lips turn down as he listens. “I won’t do anything.”
“Right. You better.” Yoongi points inside with a weak wrist, nodding right at the curtain. “Yeah, alright, go.”
Jungkook steps out from behind the curtain and waves with a soft smile at the interviewer. The man pushes his glasses up and motions for Jungkook to take a seat. A lady and a man rush over to the racer and begin helping with the microphones. They let him know where the camera is and that everything about to happen is live.
Being in the public eye since young should make this ten times easier, but Jungkook was basically raised inside the racing companies. He knows how to keep aggression in the wheels instead of the fists. His eyes have always known to not move from the front perspective, and if he ever were to desire to look behind, they would go left and right for the rear view side mirrors in the car.
Jungkook sits up straight and smiles at the interviewer, who introduces him. He’s about to greet him back, when the other seat is taken. Right beside him the couch bounces. Jungkook’s face falls like an immediate break of a window; the glass shatters everywhere. A strong arm is held before his eyes, a shoulder almost— almost hitting his cheek, but Jungkook is quite dramatic.
Taehyung— mother fucking Kim Taehyung is leaning across him to shake hands with the (now very dumb) interviewer. They’re smiling widely, sharing looks and words that contain “thank you” and other way too kind shit that Jungkook could totally do as well, but decides not to because now that Taehyung has done it, it would look fake.
Taehyung then leans back on the couch and turns his body towards Jungkook, smiling lightly, already lifting his hand again to shake his. Oh, and Jungkook is so damn thankful the camera is off and the audience side is closed because all he does is run his eyes up Taehyung’s body, landing on his face, rolling his eyes and giving his back to the new driver.
“We’re starting in three!”
Taehyung’s decreasing smile can be felt on the back of Jungkook’s neck. He ignores it, feeling a little too proud of himself. In his mind, Yoongi’s disappointed look is already clear, but he doesn’t care.
“Two!”
Jungkook meets eyes with the interviewer and smiles the widest he can, leans forward and takes a hold of his hand to shake it firmly. He then leans back with a crossed leg. There is a proud smile on his face and God does he wish he had the guts to turn to look at Taehyung, just to see his face.
It’s crazy how they’re sitting next to one another, new teammates, yet haven’t introduced themselves correctly because one is dying of (dare to say) pettiness and the other is simply not trying enough. Jungkook won’t say who is who. Either way, it’s whatever, Taehyung is not even standing his ground. He can drown in his own puddle.
“One!”
The longing stare behind him feels way too heavy. Jungkook plasters a sweet smile on his face, the one everyone seems to know him for; bunny teeth with baby dimples on the side. According to the media he’s a cutie, hard worker racer that always has something to prove and hand over.
However, he is also known to be quite cocky. Give him a break, he’s young and strong. He has every damn right to be confident (read: cocky) when it comes to his speciality.
“And we are live!”
The folding wall that separated them from the crowd is removed and the interviewer immediately finds the camera, welcoming the audience. Jungkook and Taehyung wave, both their manners of greeting define their personalities. Jungkook waves both hands, while Taehyung simply raises his right hand and bows his head a little.
“Jeon Jungkook, the greatest driver of this generation!” The interviewer cheers. Jungkook thanks him with a proud smile, pumping his chest out. Everyone in the audience claps, some even woo! And others stand up. “And Kim Taehyung, the newly joined driver for the Mercedes team!”
Jungkook feels his guts give out. When Taehyung smiles, the crowd goes nuts. They whistle, all of them stand up. Some girls are jumping while clapping above their heads… It's insane. Jungkook always knew Formula 1 fans were the most wild, but he never thought it could come to this level for a—what?
Barely known racer?
Formula 3 racer?
Oh, please.
“Seems like you have a lot of fans, Taehyung,” the interviewer says. He carries a wide grin, looking over Jungkook to stare at the older driver. “For someone as new as you, huh?”
Jungkook is in no way jealous of his number of fans. No, the number of supporters—though he loves his own very much—does not mean much in this case. Yes, fans are a big part of Formula 1, but when it comes to the track, there is nothing they can do. Jungkook would prefer to see people cheer for the new driver while inside a car, instead of simply enjoying his handsome looks.
“I wouldn’t say new, to be exact,” Taehyung replies. Jungkook prevents himself from rolling his eyes. “But, yes, my fans have been quite loyal to sticking by my side and protecting me this whole time.”
“Protecting?” The interviewer asks, as if Jungkook is not even there. “From what exactly?”
Taehyung nibbles on his bottom lip for a few seconds. He knows what he can say and what he can’t. Today, his mouth must stay shut, otherwise his words may be taken upside down before his career in Formula 1 has even started.
“You know, from anything. Nothing specific.”
And he looks away, playing with his pants that seem incredibly expensive. They make his legs look nice. From the screen that reflects themselves, Jungkook takes in how beautiful Taehyung has become—not that he wasn’t already that one time they saw each other at the wedding. No wonder he has a bunch of fans. All he must be is a pretty face.
Jungkook turns away with quickly blinking eyes, trying to focus again.
“Let’s talk about the new contract,” the interviewer says after a while of asking them the most random questions for about two whole minutes. “So, Taehyung, you were given your spot thanks to your brother, Kim Seokjin’s, departure.”
While Jungkook tries to contain the snort desiring to come out of him, Taehyung shakes his head with an embarrassed chuckle, already scooting closer and raising his hand to speak.
“Actually…” but he is completely cut off.
“How do you feel about this, Jungkook? Are you excited for the new arrivals? The new drivers?”
Jungkook lets out a long sigh. He leans back against the couch, getting a bit more comfortable with his leg over the other. The tap of his heel is against the floor while the other knocks on his leg. The crowd is giggling, some mumbling.
“I’m excited, sure.”
The response probably sounds a bit ticked off, but that’s because he is; has been ever since he walked this building, has been ever since he put on this way-too-tight suit, has been ever since he saw Taehyung’s dumb face everywhere.
He is absolutely everywhere. He’s all over the damn place.
Jungkook doesn’t even turn to Taehyung. Acknowledging the older driver is already consuming his insides. Throughout his career, Jungkook has regretted many things, but today he is fighting incredibly hard to stay shut. He doesn’t want to look like a little kid fighting off someone he barely knows.
Of course, he laughs behind him, a sweet sound coming out of lips. He says nothing; stays quiet, awaiting his next question.
Suddenly Jungkook sees Namjoonat the back of the audience, followed by Seokjin. They are watching the show. There is a weird sense of betrayal bubbling up inside, and Jungkook wants to jump off the couch and head over to Seokjin, to yell at him and question why the hell he is leaving, and how the hell did he decide leaving was the best option for him when last year’s season was great for Mercedes.
“You promised we would always drive side to side! Kim and Jeon!”
“I don’t want a new fucking teammate! I don’t want another Kim!”
“It’s not fucking fair. It never is.”
So many things he wants to yell; so many things he wants to say. He can’t get them out of his head. For a second he takes a deep breath and tries to focus back on the interview. The topic has changed and it’s all about new drivers, all about their predictions on who will become the new thing.
Taehyung keeps getting praised and fawned over, as if Jungkook is not even here. He is sitting closest to the interviewer. He is who has been driving for years and has never lost a podium position unless it’s because the car has failed.
But you don’t hear anyone stopping to acknowledge him. At least not right now, when he most definitely needs it the most.
The unfairness of the situation continues to grow. So what? Taehyung gets a spot in fucking Mercedes all because his big brother resigned? If it was that easy, then Jungkook could have been anywhere without having to grow and work.
“You know,” Jungkook suddenly speaks. He scratches under his chin and smiles mischievously. “It’s crazy how… some of us work from the bottom to obtain our spot, while others are lazy and just take the spot thanks to their privileged family.”
Jungkook’s eyes immediately flinch to the screen, wanting to see Taehyung’s reaction. He tilts his head a little, frowning for a second, but then smiles, as if nothing happened. Jungkook’s own smile falters a little. The crowd and the interviewer oooh as if it’s the greatest gossip they have ever heard.
“You’re excited to beat them?” The interviewer chuckles and leans over his desk. Jungkook hums, teasing with his response a little, shrugging cutely. “And you Taehyung? Are you excited to beat your teammate?”
Taehyung sits up straight all over again and nods his head, adding a little wink. “As excited as ever.”
Of fucking course it’s a joke. Jungkook knows this, but the sound of his voice and the way he says it makes Jungkook want to beat the hell out of him and call for Seokjin. He wants his old teammate back, the one who actually worked his ass off to get to Mercedes.
“You hear that, Jungkook? Your new teammate wants to beat you.”
Jungkook chuckles and looks over at Taehyung. He lands a hand on his shoulder and squeezes it for a moment, only to say, “New driver or not”—he turns back to the interviewer—“we all know who’s going to win.”
Taehyung chuckles under his breath. His deep voice feels like tickles on Jungkook’s space. He shrugs the shoulder Jungkook was squeezing and asks with a grin, “Who?” Jungkook scoots away and responds with a chuckle. The crowd is leaning forward, awaiting his response. As if they don’t know what is about to come.
Jeon Jungkook, the current number one driver of this generation, one of the cockiest people some reporters have ever met, yet one of the sweetest with his shy mannerisms and funny attitude—as if he could ever lose.
Jungkook points to himself.
“Me.”
* * *
It did not go well with his team. In other words, Namjoon and Yoongi.
“Jungkook, you can’t just say that in an interview.” Namjoon sounds exasperated. He doesn’t understand. “You haven’t even properly met the guy.”
Jungkook takes a sip of his orange juice, completely walking away from Namjoon, and pops out the straw. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He puts down the bottle and heads over to the mirrors, where he finds his bag with his phone.
Namjoon takes the phone away before Jungkook can even unlock it, forcing him to turn around and pay attention. He sends him a serious glare, huffing out, “Don’t act stupid.”
An offended scoff leaves Jungkook’s lips as he crosses his arms. “Me acting stupid? Yoongi is acting stupid by letting a pretty boy join our team just for Seokjin’s sake.”
“You don’t know that,” Namjoon states firmly. He puts down Jungkook’s phone on the vanity table and continues, “That kid Kim is fast, Jungkook. Has never lost a podium spot in his life.”
The podium. The rank everyone wants to achieve, the one throne you have to offer your life into in order to obtain. It’s high, only for three, but the number one spot is the one you put all your blood, sweat and tears for.
First, second, and third; all podium seats. And Taehyung has supposedly never lost one of those?
Jungkook finds it hard to believe.
“Oh, come on!” Namjoon simply shrugs and raises his hands defensively. “They always say that. The reporters always act as if the new competitors are this big thing, but then you put them in the car and they can’t even beat Williams Racing.”
Williams Racing, if it goes unknown, is currently part of the bottom teams. Most definitely not the last, considering Haas, another Formula 1 team, has now taken the spot. Williams Racing used to be magnificent, one of the best, but as time went on, their cars started to fail more and more, until finally leaving them on the bottom.
Jungkook hates attacking teams, but at the moment he’s quite furious. Either way, it’s not like it is a secret. If Jungkook is to tease about a team, it would be in front of his friends. One of his best friends, George Russell, is part of Williams, therefore Jungkook respects the cars and teams as much as he can.
But as stated at the moment, he is raging, so the anger sadly ended on top of Williams.
“Don’t degrade teams,” Namjoon hisses. “That’s no good.”
“I’m not! But, come on, we all know their car is not...good.”
“Be kind, Jungkook. He’s your new teammate.”
Jungkook’s eyes wander across the room, where he finds Yoongi with Seokjin, next to the couch. Taehyung is sitting down with his thighs spread, leaning forward and texting like a maniac. He looks up for a second to talk to Seokjin, who’s moving his hand around as if explaining something.
Jungkook goes back to looking at the floor instead of Namjoon. “And I have to beat him, so who cares.”
Namjoon squeezes his shoulder softly and leans closer. “Do it for the press, at least. You already fucked up enough with that comment.”
Jungkook’s heart aches more, his lungs feel like they’re losing air, and it’s all because of anger. His days consists of winning races yet fucking up his daily life. Everything he does has a goddamn consequence, and everything he does leaves people disappointed. He’s sure that even if that comment hadn’t come out, everyone would have still found something wrong with the interview; it being his posture, form of speaking, or nerves.
There always is a little something.
But not Taehyung, he bets. Of course not. Now he’s everywhere, probably already on tabloids and people asking for his signature and twice as many interviews than Jungkook will ever get, even if he’s the number one champion in the world.
He gets it, the team has a new baby driver. Now, can everyone just—shut the fuck up? For his own sake?
“I’m heading for the bathroom.” Jungkook hears from behind. He lightly turns around, not wanting to give much attention to the deep, deep voice. Taehyung stands up from the couch, pocketing his phone.
“Hold on,” Seokjin says. “I’ll go with you. We need to talk about something.”
That’s the last thing Jungkook hears from the racing siblings. He then proceeds to cut everything else out of his head, deciding taking deep breaths would be ten times better than giving them any more attention.
Little does he know his new teammate is on the same page.
Taehyung pushes the bathroom door open and heads for the sink. He honestly didn’t need to come to the bathroom, but he needed some time alone to think about the words exchanged during the interview.
He needs to calm down. What Jungkook said was probably not even about him.
“Listen, Taehyung,” Seokjin begins to say as soon as he enters as well. “Whatever you do, do not answer Jungkook's comment. It’s about you, but we are going to take care of it.”
Alright, so it was about him.
Taehyung contains himself and holds onto the sink. “I haven’t even met him yet. Well, officially. He didn’t even shake my hand. It’s absurd.”
“Yeah, I know.” Seokjin moves closer and takes out paper for Taehyung to dry his hands with in case he decides to wash his hands. “I kind of saw this coming. He’s a complicated kid. Too competitive, if you ask me.”
“That’s good, then?” Taehyung asks with a quirk. “At least I’ll have a good race.”
Seokjin leans against the wall, now crossing his arms. “The kid’s fast, Taehyung. Like you have no idea.”
Taehyung knows. He’s aware of how fast Jungkook is. He is aware of how the guy would do anything possible to get the car to finish the damn race, even if it means putting his life at risk. He drives as if he’s got nothing to lose, no life to contain.
Sure, racing is all about being conscious of how any day your car could flip and a fire could start, meaning you have only that one percent chance of survival, but this is something they grow up knowing. Their life, as long as they are inside one of those cars, will forever be at risk.
But, between Jungkook and Taehyung… Taehyung knows that he has his brother to keep company. Though they have no parents anymore, Seokjin is the one person who is keeping him alive. Jungkook seems to not care.
“I’ve seen him race, Seokjin. And I’ve seen how he has beat you.” It’s a big deal. Before Jungkook received the title, Seokjin was the one who had the highest scores. “Now it’s my turn to do the same, but with him. It’s time for me to beat him.”
“And I’m sure you will, just don’t let the press get into your head.” Taehyung nods at his brother, eyes casted to the side of the mirror. “According to them, the only reason you’re here is because I gave you the spot. They don’t know you’ve been training for Mercedes for a while now.”
Taehyung nods once more, this time moving back to compose himself. He washes his hands and gently taps his face with water, not wanting to ruin the light makeup the artists added a while ago.
“And don’t mess with Jungkook. Whatever he says is probably bullshit.”
“I can see that.”
A soft smile suddenly appears on Seokjin’s face. He elbows Taehyung. “But he’s a good kid.”
Taehyung laughs loudly; a little fake, a little bit mixed with a scoff. “Now you’re just contradicting yourself.”
“You just need to get to know him first. That’s all.” Seokjin slaps him on the shoulder as they begin to walk out. He keeps a hold of him the whole way. “You’ll meet him properly soon. Try to stay on his good side, yeah?”
“And what if he’s rude to me?”
“Be the bigger person.”
“You damn well know that shit never works,” Taehyung says between puffs of laughter. Seokjin follows with a loud cackle, slapping his brother’s ass to get him to be serious. “Christ—don’t—don’t do that, man. Fine, I’ll try, but no promises— ouch! Son of a bitch.”
* * *
The cameras are back on action, their microphones working, and the lights illuminate just like before. Everything is right where it belongs. The only difference are the two drivers, who sit even further than before.
Neither try to start over, and neither try to converse. No smiles are shared between them, not even glances. There is no “Hey, we met back at the wedding, didn’t we?” and there is most definitely no “Remember how I spilled my drink on you?” No, of course not, because that would most definitely make it worse. And even less is there a “Remember how you declined to dance with me?” Nothing.
Maybe that’s why Jungkook dislikes Taehyung so much. Or maybe it’s just the fact that he’s taking over a spot. Maybe he’s afraid of change.
Or Maybe he’s afraid of losing to a new driver.
“And… we are back!” the interviewer cheers. The crowd follows, clapping loudly and whistling.
Jungkook takes a deep breath. He tries to erase everything he spoke backstage, not wanting to let it get to his head. He tries to contain his anger, tries to do everything he can to not fuck up like he always does.
The buzzing in his ears becomes loud. His hands hold onto the sides of the couch and his eyes cannot stop staring at his shoes. He feels himself flinching, the air conditioner being too much for his delicate skin. His head pounds loudly, his heart is choking him. This sensation is not new—it never has been, at least not for him.
Yoongi must know what’s going on if the sweat beginning to form on his forehead is anything to take a hint of.
Then Taehyung speaks, responding to whatever the hell the interviewer asked.
“I’m very excited for a new beginning with Mercedes.” Deep breaths, Jungkook. Hold in, let go. “Training with them has been a pleasure.” Training? He has been training? Stop. Stop. “And now competing for them is like a dream come true.”
And then Jungkook’s eyes snap up.
And the room becomes way too bright as he smiles and says, “Well then, it’s time to crush some dreams.”
The crowd gasps so loud even Jungkook is forced to look over at them. Some ooh, loving the drama already—the rivalry between two Formula 1 drivers, and even better: two Formula 1 drivers with twinning suits. People eat it up, the news digs it no matter what.
Yoongi, however, does not enjoy it. The Mercedes management? They hate it.
But Jungkook? He doesn’t give a single fuck.
Not today, at least.
Taehyung’s mouth falls slack. For a moment, a short laugh is all he can offer; one full of disbelief and growing fury—because what the fuck is wrong with him? Jungkook is acting foolish; like a brat who was threatened over his favourite toy being taken away.
He can mentally hear Seokjin screaming “Ignore him!” But no, Taehyung decides he won’t. Not when he’s live, in front of his fans and people who support him. He won’t allow his first interview as a Formula 1 pilot to end like this; with him being fooled by a two year younger adult who acts like a child.
Taehyung throws his head back, chuckling with a tsk. He allows his hand to land on Jungkook’s shoulder, shoving him a little to gain his attention. “Crush my dreams and I will crush your trophy.”
The crowd goes wild.
Claps.
Whistles.
Jungkook raises his right hand to hold Taehyung’s. It continues to be on his shoulder. “Crush my trophy”—he puts down Taehyung’s hand, shoving it to his own lap—“and I will crash your car.”
They eat it up.
They laugh.
Because this is funny, isn’t it? For them: the crowd.
Taehyung leans closer with a gorgeous smile. Jungkook glares a little more, not moving back because that would mean he loses on the physical point of this battle. Taehyung lets go of his hand to flicker his chin.
“Crash my car and it will crash your face.” He flickers his chin once more, this time holding it in place. “Gorgeous.”
Clever asshole.
Jungkook carefully takes a hold of his partner’s wrist and moves it away, smiling bitterly the whole time. The interviewer laughs loudly while Taehyung and Jungkook offer fake grins. They ignore Namjoon’s “what the fuck!” mouthing from the back. They ignore Seokjin crossing his arms, and they most definitely ignore the way Yoongi shakes his head.
At the end of the day, this is all for the press, right?
So when the interview ends, Jungkook makes sure to ignore Taehyung on his way out. Taehyung isn’t far behind with it, already rushing for his mic to be taken off, a set jaw and white knuckles carried like glistening jewelry; impossible to look away from.
Jungkook knows that even if he lost the dissing battle, at least he won by making Taehyung this infuriated. That’s all he ever wanted in the first place; to show some dominance.
He looks up at the mirror before him, immediately catching Taehyung’s eye from behind. He’s picking up his bag, not once looking away. Jungkook smiles devilishly, raising one eyebrow; another challenge for the day.
“See you on Saturday, Kim,” he says before looking down at his stuff, believing Taehyung won’t dare to step up again.
Once more, he’s wrong.
Taehyung throws his bag over his shoulder and begins to walk over to the exit. But, before he can fully head out—Taehyung holds the door open and looks over his shoulder, smiling as he yells back the following words…
“I’ll see you on P2, Jeon!”
The door slams shut and Jungkook’s plastic cup is completely squished, forcing water to fall everywhere.
People rapidly run to him to clean everything off. Jungkook is unable to take his eyes away from the mirror. They’re red as they glare, only making his blood boil with anger. No one is able to take the plastic cup from his hand. He continues to squish it even further, making his hand hurt already as it creaks.
Soon a hand lands on his shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts.
Yoongi clicks his tongue against his teeth with a shake of his head. He takes the cup from Jungkook’s hand, carefully opening it. He’s the only one who knows where to touch and how to do so.
“Let’s get going,” he says. Jungkook nods and takes a step back, holding his bag close.
Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek as they head out. Yoongi doesn’t speak up for the whole walk. It’s until they both sit inside the car, until Jungkook’s favourite song starts playing on the radio, that Yoongi’s fury fills up the vehicle. He turns the radio off and forces the first half of their drive to be silent.
The red light has always been Jungkook’s friend; it tells him to go in a race— five red lights, then they go off and it’s time to drive for number one —but today it forces them to stop. He has nowhere to go.
Yoongi, without looking at him, says, “You’re in big trouble, Jungkook.”
Jungkook stays silent and looks out the window. He huffs with annoyance but bites his tongue to not get further inside the puddle. This doesn’t work, considering the roll of his eyes doesn’t go unseen by Yoongi.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” Yoongi sharply snarls, completely filling the car with his voice. “And look at me when I talk to you. I told you to be good. Dammit, I told you. You always get like this. You think with your ass instead of your head.”
“I said what we were all thinking.”
“And don’t answer back. Your mum’s gonna watch that interview. She’ll be disappointed. Maybe even more than what I already am.” The light turns back to green. Jungkook’s head falls back on the seat. He continues to look out the window. “God, you’re in big trouble. Don’t even think of doing anything else but practice. Get your ass back to only racing and keeping your mouth shut.”
The words are harsh, but Jungkook knows he deserves them.
He scoffs, this time looking over at Yoongi. “You can’t tell me what to do. You’re not my dad.”
“Thank God.” Yoongi looks over at him for a split second, then back at the road. “Then should we wait for your mum to tell you all of this? Or should we wait for your dad?”
“You know we don’t know where he—”
“Exactly. Your mum can’t take care of you anymore, hasn’t been able to for some years now, your dad is wherever you want him to be, so the only person you’ve got to listen to is me.”
“I don’t need to. I’m an adult.”
“Then fucking act like one.”
Jungkook closes himself into a little ball, huffing out, “Fine. I’ll—I will practise. Only that. Won’t go out or anything. Won’t let the camera see me.”
“Good.”
Jungkook sighs out, “Great.”
* * *
Practice begins in a day. Jungkook falls on his bed, throws his head back against the pillows. The driving simulator is left on, with his car against the wall, well parked. He has been on it all day, and to be fair, he could do this for hours and hours, but not right this moment.
His stomach is asking for food and his house is too big for him to yell out his maid’s name. Also, it’s not nice to yell someone’s name for food, even if he is paying them. So, Jungkook stands up and heads downstairs, fluffy socks patting through the floor.
Tomorrow they will be leaving England to head for Bahrain. The competition officially begins there, and from then on travelling will go on. Jungkook hopes he doesn’t have to ride the private plane with Taehyung. He will actually lose his damn mind if so.
“Lidia?” Jungkook calls out when he arrives at the kitchen.
She appears a second later, rushing into the large kitchen. “Yes, sir?”
“I’m hungry.”
She snorts and opens the fridge. “Your boss brought your new diet to follow.”
Jungkook jumps on the kitchen island, groaning loudly. Yoongi. “Can you make me a burrito or something? I don’t want to eat whatever he wrote there.”
“There’s a burrito on the diet.”
“Fine!” Jungkook exclaims. “You—you are never on my side. You should be.”
Lidia shrugs and takes out everything she needs. Jungkook leaves the kitchen with a large pout and heads for the television room, where he flops on the couch like a dead fish. It’s dead silent, his breathing being the only sound inside the room.
There are only two people living here, yet Jungkook made sure to buy a house so big he is barely able to fit a door with both arms extended side to side. Sometimes she leaves to see her family, so Jungkook stays completely alone, watching movies he already knows by memory or practising on the driving simulator. Then he eats, sleeps, and does it all over again.
The house was meant to be this big for his family to move in as well, but not everything goes as planned.
Soon two burritos are being placed in front of him, on the coffee table. Lidia turns the television for him and puts on his favourite show, one they once or twice watched marathons of together because Lidia, I’m bored. Watch something with me!
“Thanks,” Jungkook mumbles into the cushion.
Lidia offers a thumbs up and walks away, probably going back to whatever she was doing before Jungkook bothered her for food. He sits up slowly and takes a burrito. He eats quietly, watches while barely paying attention. He’s too busy thinking about how disappointed Yoongi is, but he’s even more worried about how this one time Jungkook doesn’t seem to care.
He worries how, even if Yoongi told him he can’t go out, Jungkook has nowhere to go. His driver friends are busy practising as well, and the only friend he has here in England is Lando, who lives one hour away from him.
The burrito doesn’t taste as good as it did the first bite anymore. He leaves it on the plate and lies down again. His eyes are stuck on the ceiling, so high up only a large ladder could help you reach. The chandelier is bright and sparkling, thanks to the sunlight coming from outside.
It’s such a nice day. Or, at least it should be.
This is usually how his days go until he has to step inside a private plane. Sometimes he lives inside his bedroom, not talking to anyone but his mother, who he calls every now and then to make sure she’s doing ok.
Jungkook has the money to do everything. He has the material to go anywhere, and yet—even if he has gone all over the world, he has yet to see something. He has been everywhere but has never seen anything but cars and wheels, crashes and victories.
But it’s not like he’s complaining. After all, loving what you do is a wish upon a star. Not everyone gets this lucky, and damn lord if Jungkook is lucky, because he most definitely is. He loves everything he has, enjoys waking up to drive, just to feel the constant adrenaline of a fast car.
He loves so much, but sometimes he wishes he could find that one thing he could love more than racing. But is there even such a thing? Racing has been his number one priority all of his life. He wants to know that if some day he were to lose his life during a race, that there would be something he would cherish to miss; someone who would miss him.
Your friends and family? There’s that. Yeah, there’s that. He’s got it all, doesn’t he? He shouldn’t be asking for anything more.
His shoulders slump down, smiles fall into a worsen frown. Nothing new for him.
So it’s no surprise that Jungkook’s days fly by like a feather on the wind. He wakes up one day to his bag fully packed and his eyes set on the private plane that will be taking him to their first stop, the first race of the year; Bahrain.
Once inside, Jungkook sits further back, away from Jimin, Namjoon, Lisa and Yoongi. He is in no way mad at them, but he knows they like to have a laugh inside the plane, while he personally enjoys sleeping and being by himself.
The new driver, who shall not be named and Seokjin are said to be in Bahrain already, having taken a flight earlier, in a different plane. Jungkook is very thankful. He didn’t wake up with the right set of mind. He woke up competitive and fuming all over again.
And a little sleepy, of course.
In a six hour flight, Jungkook is only able to sleep two hours. Yoongi is to blame. After eating lunch with the married couple and a few other workers, the boss heads over to Jungkook and sits beside him, patting his head to wake him up.
“I’m sleepy.”
“Have some food.”
“God.”
Jungkook finally sits up. His hair is a wild mess and there are marks from the seat on his cheek. He takes the pasta from Yoongi’s hands and begins to twirl the fork inside, a pout sitting on his lips all over again. Yoongi sits there the whole time, until the plate of food is completely empty.
Jungkook hands it back without looking at him. Yoongi sighs heavily and heads off. Jungkook slightly hears how he tells the rest “He seems to have woken up with the wrong foot.”
“I woke up fine!” Jungkook yells back, arms crossed. “Right foot and everything, not that left has anything wrong with it. Woke up fine.”
“You woke up like a brat, if anything.”
Jungkook squints his eyes as he rotates his body on the seat. The chair he sits on is facing backwards, so he crawls over it, knees over the cushion, arms on the back rester. He peeks over it, glaring at his boss, who also happens to be his best friend.
(But at the moment they’re not as best friends as usual because he’s upset.)
“Leave him alone,” Jimin says and slaps Yoongi’s shoulder with a spoon. “He was so quiet and calm, and now you woke him up and he’s upset.”
Jungkook hates this. He hates how they talk about him as if he’s not here, as if he’s a seven year old child who needs to be constantly taken care of because of his mood swings (which he sometimes has) and shit. But it’s not his fault he has them. He grew up confused.
“‘M not upset,” Jungkook mumbles onto his hands, chin over his knuckles.
“Sure you’re not,” Namjoon says, but he carries a wide smile. He then turns back to the other two, pouring champagne into his cup. “He always gets like this when a race is near. It’s nothing new. Ignores everyone, only talks to his driver buddies.”
“I—I talk to you. All of you.”
And they burst out laughing with adoration. Jungkook can tell with the almost present glitter their teeth showcase when they giggle. They adore him, but even so he grumbles under his breath. Jimin gets up and runs over to him. He jumps onto his seat, landing on his lap, making the chair twirl around. Jimin clings to him like a puppy. He tries to ask Lisa for help, but she has already fallen asleep in a different seat.
See, Jungkook adores his friends and team. He loves going to their houses for late Friday dinners, and loves going out to a taqueria with Yoongi on the weekends.
Jungkook loves being around them, but sometimes they get like this. They forget he is twenty two and soon to be twenty three. Sure, he can be incredibly immature every now and then but he can manage.
He’s learning slowly. After all, greatness takes time.
Anyhow, this is one of the reasons he spends more time with his driver friends. They’re his age and don’t treat him like a baby, though sometimes they all can get so mushy they end up crying while watching Mamma Mia. This is one of their biggest and darkest secrets.
After Jimin leaves his spot to head back for his husband, Jungkook closes his eyes once more and tries to fall asleep. This time the chair is facing their way. He’s too lazy to turn it over.
Fifteen minutes pass by in complete silence. Jimin is the one who breaks it.
“Kook? Are you awake?” Jimin questions loudly, looking over at the younger. At the lack of response, Jimin hums. “Must have fallen asleep again. Poor thing.”
Jungkook’s earphones continue to blast music. However, over the music he faintly hears Yoongi and Jimin exchange a few words, a few more of the commentary of what happened back at the interview.
That was days ago, why can’t they get over it? Jungkook’s over it.
“I get paid enough for this, but that doesn’t mean I have to bear with it.” Yoongi sounds dead serious at first, but then he snorts, followed by a sip of what is most likely to be red wine or champagne.
Jungkook doesn’t dare open his eyes. He wants to listen.
“Is this what we’re going to have to deal with during the grand prix?” Jimin asks, laughs a little, almost muffled.
“Seokjin texted Taehyung,” Yoongi adds with some more laughter. “Said something like… What the hell is wrong with you? Why don’t you ever listen?” And all of them begin to cackle. Jungkook can already imagine them shaking their heads.
Jungkook smiles a little.
“Apparently all Taehyung did was smile. He didn’t care.”
Jungkook’s smile fades.
“Jungkook basically had the same reaction. Cocky little shits these two… I swear they are like the same person.”
Jungkook almost sits up and throws his phone at them.
How dare they compare him and Taeyung? Taehyung out of all people?
First of all, Taehyung is old, so no they are in no way the same. He has a beard on his face and a moustache… Kind of. Not that Jungkook paid too much attention or searched for pictures of him to be aware of this information. Point is, he’s hairy.
Taehyung has lighter, brown, short hair, while Jungkook has darker and longer hair. Taehyung dresses like… he doesn’t know, but he bets he dresses weird. Also, Taehyung is not a world champion like him, and he most definitely is not as fast.
He hopes—knows— hopes. Jungkook is not insecure… he’s not.
But he knows Taehyung’s type. He thinks he’s the best. He thinks he is some type of candy that everyone is dying to have. He must think shit like “time to kick some ass and show him who’s best!”
Criticising someone you don’t know is pointless, even more for someone like Jungkook, who fails to realise the critics he creates of someone else are the same he could tell the mirror. Of course, no one in the right mind dares admit to themselves what is wrong with them.
Therefore, Jungkook continues to frown and create sticky notes of what Taehyung’s personality must be like.
* * *
Jung Hoseok (@jungf1news): Good morning, drivers! Today we must prepare ourselves for qualifying. Big expectations for McLaren and Ferrari, but even more for the new drivers joining us this season. #BahrainGP
The expectations for today’s race are high. As always, twenty drivers, all from ten teams, will be on the track; new drivers and better constructed cars will be filling up the track with engines roaring to life.
A few days ago they arrived in Bahrain. Their days have gone by with practice only. Jungkook has completely rejected the idea of a new partner. He avoids Taehyung at all costs, and ignores him during lunch at the motorhomes, which have now been constructed.
The idea of a Kim Taehyung on the track does not exist until qualifying day; that being today.
All because Yoongi woke up with a death wish for Jungkook.
At nine in the morning, the sound of the phone had Jungkook rushing out of the bathroom, towel around his waist and hair only half dried. Yoongi’s greeting had been “I’ve been awake for a minute and I already want to quit my job. Seokjin says you’re both adults, but I refuse to accept that.”
And after Jungkook had questioned what he meant, with a tilted smile and curled eyebrow that Yoongi couldn’t see, Yoongi had huffed out even more encouraging words that concluded with: “Adults my ass.”
Seconds later, Yoongi comes pounding on his door.
Jungkook opens the door, now fully dressed; sweatpants and a Mercedes hoodie. Yoongi’s in a suit, but without the blazer. He holds it over his shoulder. His white button up is wrinkleless, completely smooth. His hair is perfectly styled, light blue already fading away.
“Good morning, Jungkook.”
Jungkook snorts loudly and stuffs his mouth with a muffin he found inside the tiny fridge of his hotel room. “Jesus. Why so formal?” Yoongi steps in and Jungkook lets the door fall shut.
Yoongi sighs. “Good morning, asshole.” He gets comfortable on his unmade bed, right beside his well folded clothes. “Listen to me.”
Here we go again.
Jungkook decides to stay standing, drinking his milk and muffin while leaning against the table. Jungkook was hoping Yoongi would come to invite him for breakfast, like they usually do, but today it looks more like a pep talk.
“I won’t let you fuck today up more than you did with the interview.” Jungkook nods his head, sips from his milk box with both dimples popping out. “You will greet Taehyung kindly. The cameras will be on you, got it?”
The stupid cameras. After so many years in this industry, Jungkook should be used to the public eye, but it’s hard to contain himself. He absolutely despises the cameras. Sometimes he wants to beat them up, but even he is aware that if he ever were to join a physical fight, he’d be too scared to throw a punch.
He’s all mouth but no action.
“Oh, what?” Jungkook feels his ears becoming red. His head is beginning to spin. “And what about him?” Why should I be the only kind one? Why am I the only one being yelled at? Is Taehyung getting yelled at too?
“I’ll be calling him the moment I’m done talking to you. I don’t want any drama between you both. You’re acting like kids. He’s your teammate, Jungkook.”
“Teammate or not, we are driving against each other.” Plain and simple.
So what is it they don’t understand? Not every team has to be best buddies. Take in Sebastian Ocon and Checo Perez, they used to be in the same team, but even if they did not despise each other, they were most definitely not the best of friends. Their rivalry was what pushed the media to follow them even more.
Sure, media entertainment is not the most important part of the business, but whatever gets the camera on you is good enough for extra coin, right? The whole “propaganda is propaganda no matter what, no matter if good or bad” is important. At least that’s what Jungkook has heard.
Forcing Jungkook and Taehyung to be friends is absurd. Everything is at the moment. The way Taehyung is being portrayed to the team is pushing Jungkook aside, and Jungkook has never been one to be left behind.
“I’m not a second pick, Yoongi.” Never. “And I work my ass off for this. All of this. What does he do? You gave him the spot as if it was that easy!”
Yoongi stands up. A few centimetres lower he is, but even so he’s intimidating. Jungkook gulps, immediately looking away.
“I’m the boss here. That boy worked as hard as you did, so watch your mouth.”
Jungkook can sense the disappointment. He doesn’t care. He tries not to.
“Fine.”
“I’ll see you,” Yoongi mumbles. He pats Jungkook’s shoulder twice, ending it with a squish.
Jungkook doesn’t follow him to the door.
His eyes are stuck on the ground. “Yeah, bye.”
He stays put. He listens to the door slam shut. He turns to the television, right when the Formula 1 announcement comes on. He watches with a glare, so much hate growing inside of him when Taehyung’s picture comes on and the name Kim Taehyung is spelled out with bright grins and stars.
Jungkook takes the control remote and turns it off. He drops it on the bed, takes a pillow, and screams right into it.
* * *
The oatmeal tastes a little bland. It falls from the spoon as if it were baby food, so liquidy it could enter the category of soup. It’s repulsive.
Taehyung grimaces and pushes the bawl away. He sits alone at the breakfast table, raises his hand for someone to take the food. He asks if there is a need to pay for the bill now, but the waiter says it all goes to his hotel room’s card.
Formula 2 and 3 hotels are quite different from those Formula 1 racers are sent to. It’s not that Taehyung is not used to these types of hotels. After all, Taehyung is not exactly under the rest when it comes to money. He comes from a wealthy family, and his past races have earnt him lots of money (which he has saved up), and now being in Formula 1 means money will come in piles.
Either way, he has never really cared about money. He simply wants to race and enjoy what he does, all while being great at it.
He offers a kind smile at the waiter before heading out.
On his way to the elevator, he signs one autograph and takes a picture with a fan, who apparently is staying in their same hotel to go watch the Grand Prix. He talks with them for a few minutes before finally entering the lift.
His phone rings; Racing Boss flashes on the screen. Yoongi promised to stay in contact as much as possible. At the end of the day, not only is Yoongi his boss, but has also been a close acquaintance for quite some years.
Yoongi’s voice comes in as soon as Taehyung accepts the call. “Good morning, Taehyung.”
The elevator doors close. “G’morning, boss.” Taehyung presses on the seventh floor and leans back against the wall.
“Call me Yoongi.”
Taehyung responds with a dumb Yes, Yoongi.
Then there's a long sigh on the other side of the phone, and Taehyung just knows how fucked he must be already within the team. He knows he shouldn’t have responded to Jungkook’s attacks, not when he doesn’t even know the guy. Even worse when you’re aware he is the Formula 1 sweetheart, the current world champion.
But Jungkook is just a kid with way too many nerves and sticks up his ass. His cockyness, that used to be confidence, is too much for anyone else to handle. Taehyung doesn’t know how Seokjin did it, and from the way he talks about Jungkook it seems there was a strong bond between them.
Now Taehyung is stuck on that seat. This time, however, no bond has been formed.
“Listen.” Taehyung passes by the second floor and the elevator opens. Someone softly asks if he’s going down, to which he shakes his head and points up. The lady walks away. “You need to prove yourself today.”
He knows he does. There’s a lot on his plate, a lot to prove and take.
Yoongi continues, this time a little rougher. “I won’t take anything under P3.”
Positions during qualifying days are quite important. P1, P2, P3—these three being podium positions, each P standing for the number behind the position. Taehyung is known to be fast. He’s known for finishing races no matter the conditions of the car.
As for “pole position”, this is the one spot every driver wants to obtain at the start of the grid; the one you win by having the fastest qualifying time. Today he needs to obtain it. He needs to drive the fastest possible during qualifying to be at the front of the grid. If he doesn’t, God knows what will come out on the news.
“And you , someone like you , with a Mercedes should be able to make it to P1.”
The elevator finally arrives at his floor. He walks out, phone on his shoulder, against his ear, while he tries to take out the keycard for his bedroom. “Don’t worry, I will do my best.”
Yoongi stays quiet for a few seconds, but Taehyung knows he’s still there because of his heavy breathing.
“One more thing.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Yoongi.” The smile on his voice can almost be felt through the screen of the phone. “Please try with Jungkook. I know he’s a pain in the ass, but you’re teammates now and you have to try.”
Taehyung’s stomach feels heavy as he opens the door, finally entering the room. “Sure.”
“I will be sending you his contact information shortly. Add him and introduce yourself… properly this time. Give the kid a call.”
“Will do.”
The door slams shut behind him. “I’ll see you out there, yeah? Make us proud, Taehyung. You know you’re not here for nothing.”
And that’s all he needs to hear.
Taehyung smiles widely as he nods. “Yes, sir.”
As soon as the phone call ends, a few seconds of euphoria pass by, but then reality hits. Taehyung runs a hand through his hair and sits on his already made bed. While he shoves his shoes off, his phone screen lights up; a message from Yoongi.
[Contact: Jeon Jungkook.]
He wants him to fucking call Jeon? The little brat who made him look like an idiot throughout their interview? That tiny (he’s not tiny) boy who tried to look intimidating by glaring with round, bambi eyes?
Taehyung does not want to.
But fine, whatever, here he goes.
Taehyung makes sure to add Jungkook first, leaving his name plain and simply: Jeon Jungkook. He drops the phone over the bed as well, already having pressed the call, now having it on speaker for when the other racer responds.
Taehyung brushes his teeth quickly, and has to call another time because at the first try Jungkook does not pick up. He puts his shoes on, ties them up, takes his bag and prepares himself to soon walk out of his room.
Thing is, Jungkook picks up but doesn’t say anything. Taehyung fails to realise the numbers ticking on the screen.
00:05… 00:07… 00:08…
At the phone’s lack of ringing, Taehyung looks over and curses softly as he finally notices Jungkook has already picked up. Stupid Jungkook for not saying anything.
“Hi. This is Kim Taehyung,” he greets.
Silence. Two minutes later, a response finally comes.
“Who?”
Taehyung keeps himself from sighing. Jungkook cannot possibly have forgotten him so quickly. He runs a hand down his face. “Kim Taehyung.”
Another moment of silence. Jungkook sure enjoys taking his damn time. “Sorry, I don’t know who that is. Sounds forgettable.”
And—what the fuck. Taehyung leans back, looks down at the phone with a questioning look. With a shake of his head, he takes his bag, wallet and keys. He picks up the phone, removes the speaker option and heads out of the room.
Five minutes have not even gone by and Jungkook has already started a war. Taehyung rolls his eyes so hard he feels they might fall off. He even feels a little dizzy as he presses the elevator buttons to go down. It has his head pounding, and before he can stop himself, he’s already snarling right back.
“I’m the guy who’s going to beat you in tomorrow’s race,” he says in an overly sweet voice.
“Ha-ha,” Jungkook sarcastically replies. He falls silent again, a little shuffling enters the call. “Newbie, how the fuck did you get my number?”
“Boss.”
“Well” —and he grumbles under his breath— “delete it.”
So childish. Taehyung rolls his eyes all over again. As the elevator opens in the lobby, he presses his thumb and index finger over his eyes, cautiously walking in order to not bump into anyone.
“No.” Taehyung meets up with security at the parking lot and waves, removing the phone from his ear to smile at them.
“Whatever. Why are you calling me?”
As Taehyung jumps inside his car, he replies, “Because Yoongi said so.”
Taehyung doesn’t know if it’s Jungkook who is currently wanting to make him jump off a building, or if it’s the constant silent bombs he keeps dropping every few sentences. It’s as if he needs to think—slowly—or maybe that’s just him trying to calm himself before going on.
“You’re already on a first name basis with him?”
“Yes?”
Taehyung does not know this—all he can see is how Jungkook’s call goes mute. He will forever be left unaware of the way the younger racer flips the pillow and yells into it, punches it twice, because it took him over a year to get to first name basis with Yoongi.
His best friend, not Taehyung’s. But now Taehyung is allowed to call him Yoongi this quickly? If it weren’t for Seokjin, Taehyung would be nothing. This continues to prove it.
Taehyung almost hangs up, a confused look on his face as he stares at the muted call. His car has already gone off, driving away from the hotel and heading for the race track. He doesn’t dare ask if Jungkook is still there, too afraid to sound desperate.
The call finally goes unmuted, a tiny “Great” is the only thing Jungkook says before it goes mute again. His voice sounds a little broken, kind of sore.
“Um.”
“Are you on your way to the track or whatever?”
He’s about thirteen minutes away from the track. “I’m… arriving.”
Jungkook hums softly, a little too high pitched. He then says with the tiniest voice ever, “Did your big bro drive you?” Taehyung grumbles, a confused tone in his voice. “Did he… I don’t know? Put on your seatbelt for you?”
“The hell are you on about?”
“Well, I was just thinking, you know? About how you got this spot thanks to him and all.”
Taehyung pulls the phone away, closes his eyes as he mouths out a curse at the younger. Stay calm. Keep your cool. Be the bigger person. He needs to do what Seokjin suggested. Jungkook is just a kid… an adult-kid who is confused over what is being competitive and what is simply bothersome.
“Right,” he replies instead.
“Just stating facts, dude.” Taehyung cannot see it, but Jungkook is incredibly proud of himself for this ridiculous conversation.
“We’ll see about that.” Taehyung he can’t help but smile.
“Oooh… Scary,” Jungkook taunts. Taehyung presses his lips together, shaking his head a little. “I could send you pictures of how things work. Here.”
His phone pings. Taehyung leans away from it and goes into Jungkook’s chat. He has sent him a picture of a steering wheel and a car.
“The first picture is of a steering wheel. That’s what you use for driving. The second is a racing car. In case you hadn’t seen one… ever.”
Taehyung does not respond. At this point he doesn’t even know what Jungkook is trying to say. It feels like he has a humongous question mark over his head, head filling up with anger and temper running low.
“What?”
“I’m teaching you, newbie. About racing. Wouldn’t want something bad to happen, would we?”
What pisses Taehyung off even more is the fact he can imagine Jungkook pouting, only to bother him even further. He loves to play, knows how to do it and where to poke. Taehyung isn’t too impressed by this behaviour. After all, he can be like this too.
But maybe he’s way harsher than Jungkook, because while Jungkook teases, Taehyung snaps. It’s not always the smart thing to do, and most of the time it’s not the smart thing to say, but when he’s angry, he cannot turn back.
He tilts his head to the side, looking out the window. His hissing comes out in a whisper, not wanting the driver to hear any of it.
“You’re two years younger than me. Go back to your crib and shut the hell up.” Taehyung makes sure the driver isn’t listening. Hopefully he isn’t. “I’ll see you at qualifying.”
Before he can even hang up, Jungkook comments, forcing his voice lower as if resembling Taehyung’s, “I’ll see you on P2, Jeon. From: a newbie.” He bursts out laughing, a cute little giggle that shouldn’t sound so adorable when it’s trying to be taunting.
To his disappointment, the call does not end there.
The racetrack can be seen from where they drive. Thirteen damn minutes and they have all been wasted on a useless call—on a useless, childish boy. Taehyung really can’t feel any worse than this.
“You really think you can beat me at qualifying? Come on.”
“Beat me all you want at qualifying, Jungkook, but I’ll beat you on every race this season.”
“Hilarious.”
Taehyung grumbles under his breath and removes the phone from his ear, says, “We’ll see who’s laughing later,” and hangs up.
What a fucking useless call.
It didn’t do anything but make him upset; a type of anger he hadn’t felt for a while now. Leaving behind a disheartening relationship, Taehyung completely pushed away any type of pernicious relations. Any little thing that could make him feel some sort of negativity would be cut behind.
The past couple of months have been calm and healing. Now that he’s in the spotlight again, but this time on a higher range, it’ll be harder to stay away from upsetting moments, but as an adult and professional he will have to learn to deal with it.
Taehyung takes a peek out the window, holding his bag a little closer. There already are cameras outside, even fans who wait behind the parking gates. Hopefully he will be able to arrive at the Mercedes-AMG Petronas motorhome with no problem.
The motorhomes are found in the main street, also known as the paddock. These homes are their stations during the races, including offices, lounges, and more. The paddock in formula 1 and 2 feels a little different, even if most things stay in place.
It does hit him how fast the cameras are to flash on his face. He hasn’t even driven his first race in Formula 1 yet, and he’s already being flashed. Security and Jennie Kim, his advisor, is able to get them off his face and help him enter into the paddock faster.
Inside the paddock the flashes stop, but the video cameras begin.
Cameras follow him as he walks, and he tries to smile as much as possible, waving at them and bowing his head. A few questions are asked and he answers them as calmly as possible, offering kind hearted smiles. A few fans who have paid to enter the paddock stop him for pictures. He doesn’t mind at all, but he’s feeling a bit mentally tired after the exchange he had with his teammate.
Inside the Petronas motorhome, Taehyung sees Seokjin at the dining hall, picking on some salad while watching a video on his phone. Taehyung heads over and drops his bag on the floor, taking the chair before him.
He runs his hands over his face. There is truth to his own destructive mind. He’s scared over fucking it up in qualifying, or even worse fucking it up twice, not only today but also tomorrow during the race. He’s scared of being delusional with how well the wheels follow his rhythm.
The same old story of “Am I as good as I hoped? As everyone hoped? As everyone believed?”
Taehyung’s voice is muffled into his hands. “I just talked with Jungkook. Yoongi told me to give him a call.”
Seokjin snorts and flicks off the strand of hair that falls over Taehyung’s forehead. “Yeah, hey, how are you? I’m good, thanks for asking.”
“Good.”
They both share a look. Seokjin asks with confusion, “What?”
“You asked how I am.”
Seokjin raises a hand, as if ready to hit him, but instead he groans out a: “You’re so fucking— god.” He pushes away the bowl of salad and turns his body to face Taehyung properly. “Anyway, what did he say? How was he?”
“I want to beat him up.” It comes out easy. Taehyung’s face is as hard as a rock, straight up looking at his brother and not stuttering. Seokjin whistles under his breath. “But I won’t. I’ll just beat him in the race and shut his mouth.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“He just—he thinks he’s so much better than me.” By now they both stand up and walk up the stairs. Taehyung hangs his bag over his shoulder until reaching his personal room. He drops the bag on the couch. “He thinks I’m here just because of you.”
Seokjin closes the door behind him and leans against it. He watches Taehyung take his shirt off in order to start changing into his gear.
“Taehyung, we’ve talked about this. Everyone thinks that.”
“I know that. But—”
“But don’t worry. If you win then you’ll have a ‘considerably’ longer interview, and if you keep winning then you will make a name for yourself. More than you already have done in Formula 2.” Taehyung listens and tries to ignore the weight inside his body. “You’re fast as hell. You have broken records.”
“Breaking records means nothing when it was on a lower level—”
“You could drive Ferrari's shitty car last season and you’d win with it. Bet. God, you could drive a Haas car!”
Taehyung bursts out laughing as he zips up his suit. Last season, Ferrari’s mechanics went a few steps down because of their car. Everything seemed to go wrong no matter how many times they tried to fix it.
“Why are you being rude to all those cars?” Taehyung questions in between puffs of chuckles.
“Because last season’s cars from those labels were shit. And that’s not the point. The point is you will win. Just try to get P1.”
“I will.”
“And if you don’t get it, then you’ll win the race anyway. I know this.” Seokjin takes a few steps forward and helps Taehyung zip his suit until the top. He lands both hands over his shoulders and shakes him a little. “You’ve got this. You could do this in your sleep.”
The expression on Taehyung’s face completely changes. A sly smile beams on his face and he nods.
Fuck yeah he can.
* * *
Jung Hoseok (@jungf1news): Are we ready? The drivers seem to be slowly arriving. Lando Norris, Charles Leclerc and Kim Taehyung are already shaking hands! Let’s see if his own teammate, Jungkook, will shake hands as well.
Taehyung steps out to the paddock. He walks with Seokjin and Jennie to his side. He needs to get some interviews done before qualifying begins. He doesn’t know quite well where he has to go first—which interviewer will ask for him first.
Before he can question it any further, someone is calling his name from behind. Taehyung’s eyes go wide and he turns around, trying to find where his name is coming from. There is a crowd of people, and from the middle, a hand is stretched up, shaking from side to side. Taehyung squints his eyes while Seokjin asks what that is.
Then, a man is falling right in front of the crowd, quickly standing up, microphone in hand, a girl behind him holding up a camera. The guy finally arrives in front of them and he’s breathing heavily, one hand over his knee.
“Hello,” he huffs out while forcing himself to stand up straight and exhale longly. “My name is Jung Hoseok, I work for the Formula 1 news. Hi. You look like a model. I would like to interview you. Please.”
Taehyung’s ears become a tinted pink as he tries to contain his laugh. He nods with a shy smile and follows Hoseok to a better position for the interview. The camera is pointed towards him and he smiles at it for a second before making eye contact with Hoseok.
The interviewer has to look away for a moment because his face flushes red, but then he’s back to looking at Taehyung. Taehyung’s curly hair falls over his eyes. It’s already becoming too long and he has to get a haircut, because the longer the hair, the more uncomfortable it becomes for him having to wear the knit caps under the helmet.
As Hoseok begins to speak, a river of questions coming out of his mouth, Taehyung catches a glimpse of a new group of people walking past them in the paddock. The cameramen move away from the view point and it allows Taehyung to spot Jungkook. He’s walking with Yoongi by his side, who has his phone over his ear, a guy with a Mercedes shirt holding an umbrella over his head to protect him from the sun.
Jungkook has a hoodie over his head. His eyebrows are furrowed as he carries the only expression Taehyung has been allowed to see so far; stubborn with a tint of (somehow) adorableness. Jungkook’s cheeks are puffed with air, round and chubby looking.
Yoongi looks over and sees him, raises his hand to wave at Taehyung. Jungkook follows his finger and meets Taehyung’s eyes. His round, bambi eyes fall into a glare. Taehyung ignores Hoseok’s voice as he speaks to the camera, saying something that sounds like—
“Our favourite driver, the legend, the first driver to win at such a young age… Jeon Jungkook—has arrived!”
The wind’s whistles become louder than the commentary the interviewer gives, louder than the crowd, the fans, the staff… because all Taehyung can pay attention to is the way his teammate declares war with one single glimpse of an eye.
Jungkook must be sensing the same absurd fire inside of him. Taehyung’s sharp eyes greet him back with just as much vigor. His, on the other hand, does not last long. Taehyung clicks his tongue against his teeth and looks back at Hoseok, grinning widely with his perfect teeth and perfect smile.
Jungkook grumbles under his breath and taps Yoongi a little too hard on the arm, asking for attention. “Why does he get an interview? Where’s my interview?”
“You’ll get one soon, Kook. You always do.”
“I scrolled through Twitter and the news. He’s everywhere. Why is he everywhere when he hasn’t done shit?”
Yoongi doesn’t reply to his question. He places a hand on Jungkook’s lower back and pushes him over to the motorhome. “Stop talking. Go get ready and hurry for the pit garage. We need to weigh you.”
The routine is always the same. He finds Lisa first, does a few interviews, and then uses as an excuse that he has to go get changed in order to get out of them. For the first time ever, that one interviewer he saw with Taehyung a few minutes ago, the top notch interviewer of the Formula 1 paddocks, does not walk over to ask a penny for his thoughts.
It’s not like he cares much, but usually he’s the first one to talk to him about his expectations on the race.
Lisa tells him he’s thinking too much and should get over it, so Jungkook gets dressed as fast as he can and rushes for the pit garage. The team falls into a nervous state as soon as he enters the room.
The atmosphere becomes so strong it almost feels as if they’re choking, because outside the angle between the two drivers, the room is dark. People work on their own, with the car in the middle of the garage, getting cleaned up until it shines against the outside sun.
It almost feels like a Hollywood “Wild West” film, a reflection of the last scene of The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, except here instead of three, there are only two so-called cowboys ready to shoot.
Jungkook holds no gun, however, instead he hugs his helmet to his chest. His eyes run over his teammate, who without doubt, fits just fine in his own suit. A little tight but comfortable. His helmet must continue to be kept in storage, probably kissing dust. As it should.
He runs his eyes over Taehyung, raising an eyebrow. Honestly expecting a similar immediate reaction, Jungkook is ready to step over to his own side, but Taehyung seems to have different plans.
“We didn’t get to properly introduce ourselves last time, yeah?” Taehyung forces out a smile and extends his hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”
Jungkook snorts, throwing an eye roll just in case Taehyung continues to be unaware of who holds power inside the room. With a smirk, he puts on his helmet and tries to walk past him, making sure their shoulders collide.
Jungkook got to know enough of him. He doesn’t need to greet Taehyung properly all over, even less if there are no cameras around that might scratch his name out of the public eye. Even with the front and rear jack men watching as they get prepared, Jungkook lifts his chin a little higher.
“Pleasures all yours, newbie,” Jungkook mumbles. “Not mine.”
It’s meant to make Taehyung flinch. It should get him to crawl away and beware his opportunities on becoming the name of the Mercedes team. They’re invisible and impossible, and they will continue to be while Jungkook sits in his own car. His stop is sacred.
But no one crawls anywhere. Instead, Taehyung takes a hold of his shoulder and turns him back around. Jungkook’s face is full of surprise, but only for a millisecond. The grip Taehyung’s got on him is strong, tips of his fingers pressing right over his collarbone. Jungkook takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.
“Look at you,” Taehyung whispers with a dark sounding chuckle. From behind the visor, Jungkook glares. Their backs are towards the rest of the crew, and Taehyung can't see Jungkook’s face, but he knows his anger is about to knock the bell. “Look at you acting up like that.”
Jungkook glowers even further, his eyes squinting so much his vision becomes a little blurry. Taehyung’s hand lands on the helmet and he forcefully pushes the visor up, revealing the black look Jungkook offers.
The proximity has Jungkook becoming a little nervous. Not because he’s scared or intimidated in a way, but because Taehyung—a man he’s not close with at all—is way too close to his body. Jungkook tries to keep his hands from trembling, his eyes from losing firmness.
“You’re just a kid, aren’t you?” Taehyung mumbles, now a little lower so no one can listen, only Jungkook and his champion helmet. “You’re scared I’m going to take it all away from you.”
“You’re ridiculous. As if you could.” Jungkook scoffs, his voice muffled. “Fuck off.”
“Hm,” the older lad sighs and crosses his arms, now taking a step back. “Yeah, maybe I am being ridiculous. Who could possibly beat you? Not me, that’s for sure.”
The bell rings; Taehyung knocks twice on his helmet, officially infuriating him. Jungkook pushes his arm off with force and walks away. Just like that, the room isn’t dark anymore. Taehyung looks around; meets a few pairs of eyes that come from the pit crew. Instead of showing off like the others, he smiles and gives them a hand.
Jungkook watches him as he jumps inside his car. Of course Taehyung would do this. He’s going to bribe everyone into loving him by being “kind.” Jungkook really shouldn’t care, not when he has to show his teammate who’s the fastest in the circuit.
Jungkook’s name will be everywhere by the end of today. And as for tomorrow, he’ll repeat it by winning the race.
They both, in a matter of minutes, are ready for their lights to go off and be told it’s their turn to go into the track. Taehyung sits inside his car and he faintly hears someone counting down, and then Jungkook’s car passes before him, through the pit stop, and driving out.
He can watch the young world champion through the television on the side of the wall. His turn is up to race for the first Qualifications. This being the first, it is Qualifying 1. As soon as Jungkook is out of the pit stop, his car flies like a rocket. Taehyung holds his breath at the sudden speed. It, honestly, makes him feel a little dizzy.
“Radio check,” Taehyung mumbles as he presses on the radio button. “Pass the call to Seokjin.” Jimin, his radio engineer, doesn’t say anything. He quickly passes the call over to Seokjin, who immediately responds.
“Hm?”
“Did you see that?”
“Aren’t you supposed to get ready?”
“I’m already inside the car. I’m basically ready but I wanted to talk to you.”
Seokjin hums from the other line. “Alright. What’s up?”
“He’s fucking fast.”
“And you’re surprised about this because..? You knew he was fast. He is fast. Very.”
“He is. Yeah, ok.” Taehyung lets go of the button and looks up at the screen. Seokjin doesn’t comment about anything anymore. He’s probably watching the qualifying as well, considering he now works in a spot near Yoongi’s, Jungkook’s time is also his issue now.
Taehyung doesn’t want to admit it. Accepting the frightening burn towards a teammate in Formula 1, even more for a world champion, is inadmissible. It might be wrong to say, but Taehyung doesn’t want to fall to the hole Seokjin got trapped in.
Seokjin was the best. Used to be. He was on that tallest spot of the podium, playing with his trophy and chanting with champagne. But then Jeon Jungkook arrived, a boy so good he skipped from Formula 3 all the way to 1 and became a hit.
Because the boy is faster than any other damn car in the pit. He took over the champion Kim Seokjin with just one race, and then he continued to climb that ladder without ever looking down and not tripping once. Taehyung knows all about him. He reads about him in the news and studies his skills.
Jungkook is not terrifying, so Taehyung is not afraid of him, but he is afraid of joining the top team in the world, only to lose to the champion and only be seen as a second place—as a pilot who got put into this spot just because the team needed someone to help Jungkook win the race—someone who would so easily cover the empty spot.
Taehyung doesn’t want to dig any holes. He needs to win those trophies and prove his name to the world, to his parents who look down from above, but mostly to himself because he knows he can do it.
His radio turns on. It’s Jimin. “Checking in. Get ready. You’re up soon. Over.”
Taehyung takes a deep breath and decides to spare a glance up at the screen. Jungkook seems to be done with his score. The numbers appear on the screen and Taehyung can faintly hear it. Jungkook did a total of 1:13.609—one quick of a fucking drive. Taehyung honestly was not expecting anything more from Jungkook.
Taehyung’s shaky hand lands on the radio button once more and he asks for Seokjin again.
“How the fuck.” His voice is trembling. His throat feels tight and his gloves are a little too tight on him right now. Everything’s a little too tight. His heart is a wrecked kart. “Seokjin.”
“He’s not afraid of being behind the wheel,” he says, “but you aren’t either. Are you scared of the wheel, Taehyung?”
“No.”
He’s trying to stay calm. Too many thoughts are running through his mind, too many memories as well. He shouldn’t be this nervous, but he also knows he has the right to be because it’s his first race with Formula 1.
“Wanna make a name for yourself?” Taehyung nods, as if Seokjin can see him. He can’t. “Kill the minute. Do it less.”
“Yeah. I’ll try.”
“Stop thinking about his stats. You’ll do great.”
Seokjin’s radio gets cut off, probably because Jimin is asking for the speaking position. Taehyung leans back, gets a little more comfortable. The pit men help him get the last bits of his gear ready.
“All set?” Jimin's voice comes from the radio, Taehyung nods to himself, then mumbles a confirming answer. He gulps and pulls down the visor. “Alright, give it everything.”
“Will do,” Taehyung responds. The radio closes for a second and he pushes out through the pit lane. He’s thrilled to drive; to show everyone what he’s got. It’s not every day you get to sit inside a Mercedes W12, for Mercedes AMG.
The radio begins again, Jimin’s soft voice speaking, “At the moment you’re clear from traffic behind.”
“Copied.”
With one last deep breath, as soon as Taehyung is out and he gets the queue, he pushes forward. The car roars more than it already had once turned on. He rides off, feeling as if it were faster than light.
He has enough laps to prove himself. He can do this.
He needs that podium.
In the first few turns, his body vibrates with excitement. God, he’s fast. He, in difference from many others, doesn’t need the constant encouragement the pit wall constantly offers. There’s confidence inside of him; even more now that his position is official in the best team of them all.
He wants to ask, however, how he’s doing; how much he has cut from the other driver’s timing. And he knows he shouldn’t because when driving, other driver’s stats aren’t what should be in your head.
Halfway through the lap, Taehyung’s ready to speak into the radio, slightly out of breath. His body is forcefully being pushed against the seat and as usual it has him feeling tired. It’s nothing new. He’s used this type of speed.
His hands jitter on the wheel. His eyebrows fall into a frown. That’s not normal.
“Jimin, something’s off isn’t it?” he asks while pressing onto the radio button. Maybe it’s just him. There can’t possibly be something wrong with the car, not when they literally tested it and everything seemed to be fine. Not now.
On the next turn he feels it. Now one hundred percent. It’s just his fucking luck. Like always. The wheels click in a harmful manner. He’s barely able to reach the next turn, the car has him almost running off track.
“Shit!” he cries out, the radio immediately turning on. “Shit, Jimin. What’s wrong with—shit!” The car begins to spin, fully on like a coaster. It leaves the track and has him meeting the wall, right on the side of the car. The wheels fall off. Hopefully the car isn’t fully ruined and his race tomorrow will get cancelled.
“Sorry, Tae. Seems like there’s been a right rear failure in the car.” His voice is calm. Taehyung hates it.
“What do you—a rear failure?” How the hell did they not fucking check on that before? How do they dare let a human being get in an unprepared car? He wants to scream. He wants to call them out for not checking the car twice—thrice or more. He wants to yell because it’s not fair to anyone, not just to him. It’s not fair to those who will have to fix the car for tomorrow, either.
It’s not fair to the crew, not fair to the mechanics, the engineers, and of course it’s not fair to him. Though he knows it’s not his fault, he can’t help but feel disappointed. This can never happen again.
“You’re ok?” Jimin asks.
“Yeah,” he sighs and pulls himself out. “Yeah, I’m ok.”
As he heads for the motorhomes, he tries to distract himself. This isn’t the first time this has happened. Back in Formula 2, he’s known for winning with only three wheels and driving in the rain without full wet tyres. He could have controlled this car. He could have. He could have made it work, but he failed.
The reporters are everywhere, annoyingly asking questions. Jennie tries to get them away, the other workers do so as well, but it’s impossible not to hear the shit they have to say.
“How does it feel to not be able to do anything for your first time in the team?”
“Will you not race tomorrow?”
“Would this have happened to Seokjin?”
No, it probably would have not, but Taehyung can’t compare himself to a situation that isn’t even on the table.
Taehyung is cleaning his face with a handkerchief. Jennie pushes the glass doors open for him and follows right behind as he walks inside their motorhome. He stops before the lunch tables. His eyes meet Jungkook’s own. He’s smiling, smirking even as he sucks on a lollipop.
“So,” he laughs wickedly, “P20, huh?”