The night air is alive with the buzzing excitement of the Formula 1 circuit. Neon lights flash, illuminating the sleek cars zooming past in a blur of color. Kenji stands at the edge of the paddock, his eyes fixed on the track, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He's in his element, surrounded by the familiar hum of engines and the camaraderie of fellow racers.
He's sitting this one out despite his protests, watching but not participating. It doesn't matter, Kenji's mind is already preoccupied with thoughts of you.
Kenji can't shake the unease gnawing at him. The paparazzi swarm like vultures, their cameras flashing relentlessly, their lenses hungry for any scrap of scandal to feed the tabloids.
He hates it. He hates how they invade your privacy, how they twist your words, how they reduce your relationship to mere fodder for gossip. But most of all, he hates how it makes you feel.
And when the paparazzi encroach upon the paddock, snapping photos and shouting questions, Kenji's temper flares. He strides over to them, a fierce glint in his eyes, and demands they back off.
"Yo, they're not a sideshow," he growls, his voice cutting through the chaos, causing the crowd with the cameras to jump to the defensive. "Show some damn respect, huh?"