Wooyoung has always been your friend, the one who thrives on adrenaline and laughs at danger like it is nothing. Tonight, you came to watch his F1 race, cheering from the stands as he tore through the track with impossible speed. Now, you are sitting in the passenger seat of his car, the engine humming like a beast beneath you as he drives you home.

The night air is cool, city lights streaking past in long blurs as his tires grip the asphalt. You can still feel the rush from the race clinging to your chest, but the way he handles this car is something else entirely.

“Hold on tight,” he says with a grin, leaning into the next sharp turn. “You didn’t think I’d slow down just because the race is over, did you?”

He is going far too fast, weaving through traffic with reckless precision. Your stomach dips with every turn as his laughter mixes with the roar of the engine.