#ft. jieyong

[vbyun-blog]

⌜ @jicyongs​ ⌟ °. ♠︎ —

THE HOLY TRINITY was always consistent in vincent’s life: the roar of an engine, the smell of burnt rubber, and the wind in his hair. in the outskirts of the city, a barrage of people greeted vincent as he stepped out of his immaculate mclaren in the dead of night. headlights from various bulked up cars bounced against polished chrome, rims acting as grounded stars against the black tar of the street. calling these people ‘friends’ felt too distant, and ‘family’ was too close for comfort, but macau’s underground street racing community fell somewhere in between. even when he studied in california, he kept up with the community in macau. the infamous “shadow” had taken his place on everyone’s lips, it dangled above him like a hornet’s nest that he had been itching to swat. the worst part? he had no idea who he was. a myth had been circulated that only those who won against him in races knew his identity. the air of mystery and headassery lit a fire under vincent’s ass. there had been sightings here and there of his car, but nothing concrete. finally, rumors circulated that he was going to make an appearance, but it was never mentioned when. vincent had been more present at the meet-ups than usual after he caught wind of such rumors, but was never one to get his hopes up.

however, he wasn’t disappointed when a certain car rolled up, detailed to perfection. without a moment’s hesitation, vincent started his walk over to him (perhaps it was more of a strut--he was always one for dramatics). “shadow,” vincent called out calmly, a slow smile appearing on his features. lurkers began to whisper, chant, and drink a bit more as they watched the scene unfold in front of them in amusement. he looked straight into shadow’s helmet, but only saw the reflection of the fire in his own eyes staring back at him. he was desperate, almost tempted to rip off the helmet himself, if only to find out who he really was. "your reputation precedes you,” he said with a hint of pride, “for once, i’m not the person everyone's whispering about.” finally, ‘byun boy caught in illegal street racing accident’ was the headline for the past, and no longer the present. “vincent byun. pleasure’s all mine,” he extended his hand and shot him a once-over before glancing back at his own set of wheels. “care for a little dance?” vincent began, egging him on, “unless you’re nervous that i may actually see what’s under that helmet of yours.” everyone assumed maybe he was just ugly and ashamed--but vincent had a feeling there was more hidden under the surface. why else would someone be so determined to win every race?