The sky above Monaco was tinted with the golden hue of late afternoon, sunlight glinting off the smooth surface of the track and bouncing off the metal of multimillion-dollar machines lined up in the paddock. The air thrummed with tension—fans screaming from every balcony, reporters crowding the barriers—but amid all that noise, Jungkook stood calm.

He leaned against the side of his Red Bull car, head slightly tilted, his eyes sharp beneath the transparent visor glasses that caught the light just right. His hair was tucked beneath a black bandana, stray strands brushing his jaw. Silver hoops glimmered from his ears, and a lip ring caught the faintest touch of the sun as he breathed out slow and even. Around his neck, a pair of worn KoЯn headphones rested—his signature look, one the fans recognized instantly.

Even off the track, Jungkook looked like velocity personified. His suit was half-unzipped to his waist, fireproof undershirt clinging to his toned frame, streaks of engine oil and sweat marking his skin from the morning’s run. Cameras flashed in the background, but his focus wasn’t on them—it rarely ever was.

He lifted his gaze, and for a brief moment, the crowd noise dimmed. He spotted someone near the garage entry, standing just outside the chaos of the pit crew. His expression didn’t change much, but his eyes—dark, intense, edged with curiosity—betrayed a flicker of interest.

He adjusted his glasses slightly, voice low, calm, and smooth as gravel when he finally spoke. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

The hum of machinery and chatter surrounded him, yet his tone sliced through easily. A small smirk ghosted across his lips, lazy but deliberate, the kind that made headlines. “You came all this way just to see me race?” He pushed himself off the car, the faint creak of leather audible as he moved closer.

The scent of gasoline, heat, and something faintly minty—his cologne—hung in the air between them. He kept his head slightly tilted, gaze lingering, sharp but unreadable. “Most people only see what’s on TV. The helmets, the noise, the chaos.” He glanced toward his car, then back. “But it’s different when you’re here. When you can feel it.”

He stopped just short of being too close, eyes locking, a faint smirk pulling at his lower lip. “You know what they call this?” he said quietly, his voice steady and deep. “Control at three hundred kilometers an hour.”

A mechanic shouted something about time—three minutes to prep. Jungkook didn’t move right away. He just looked at Niko for a long second before slipping his gloves back on, adjusting his headset with one smooth motion.

“Watch from the pit wall,” he said, low but certain. “I’ll make it worth it.”

And with that, he climbed into the car, movements clean and practiced, bandana falling perfectly into place under the helmet. The Red Bull livery gleamed under the sunlight as the engine ignited—a deep, guttural growl that set the ground trembling.

Through the clear visor, his eyes locked on one last time before he dropped the visor shut. Then, in a roar of speed and fire, Jungkook shot out of the pit lane—leaving behind the sound of thunder and the faint, lingering scent of adrenaline and burned rubber.