I need a connection,
I want it like crazy

The sidewalk was dark with dew as my sneakered feet beat a rythm on it, timed and bored. Tap. Tap. Tap. My hands clutched the bag straps pushing against my shoulders.

The day was dulling into the afternoon, and it was a Thursday so I had gotten out early. Unfortunately, it also meant that my dad would be working late today.

I pulled to the side and walked over to the gate, slipping in with my eyes still dully staring at the ground. The day felt duller with the knowledge that I would be on my own for a large portion of the day until it was time to turn in.

I sighed as I walked, and glanced to the left, and then to the right. The path to my house was silent, but there was a faint rustle of leaves in the air after the slight drizzle that had fallen early after dawn.

I bent to tip over the aloe vera pot at the front door of my house, retrieving the spare key under it before unlocking the door and entering. My own key was safe in the pocket of my jeans, but for some reason I felt like using the spare one. So I did.

Once inside, the smell of coffee and old paper invaded my senses almost overwhelmingly as compared to the fresh rain scent of the outdoors. I took off my shoes at the door, peeling off my socks and curled my toes as I walked onto the cold floor of the living room barefoot.

The house was impeccable as always, but I was alone where no disapproving parent looks, so I pulled off my backpack and threw it onto the sofa. My eyes lifted from the lonesome bag and crawled up the new cream walls, onto the lone clock.

Five.

I groaned, and collapsed on the couch next to my possession. Aside from assignments, I had nothing to do, and no friends to visit—this was a new place, but I doubted I would have been willing to visit anyone after what had happened. Anyway, I had the entire weekend to myself, and even after almost a whole week, I hadn't socialised much.

Seoul was new to me, and I was new to it. At least Daejeon had been everything to me as I grew up—despite the dramatic population of the city, I had known it relatively well. I didn't know Seoul, it was almost a stranger to me; I had always considered my residences to have souls. And here, it was almost alien. I didn't belong.

There, I had at least had my driving, my friends, my freedom.

Here, there was nothing I felt anchored to.

I closed my eyes, and pinched the bridge of my nose. Maybe tomorrow would be better.

In the past days, I hadn't seen the red-haired boy again. I think I would have liked to think that I hadn't been looking for him, but I was. My eyes had sought the halls, the corridors, and even the notorious cafeteria—but with no luck.

It was as if he was a ghost.

My neck craned up, and I peeked at the keys hanging on the side of the door through my lashes, thinking.

My dad never took the car out, so it was only for important occasions or if he didn't find any other form of transport. He liked to say that he was an environmental enthusiast, but I knew he wasn't over what had happened to mom. After all, the average middle-aged man can only handle so many subway rides.

The keys to our Toyota hung clean on one of the pegs, and my front teeth cane down on my lower lip. He wouldn't notice if it was gone for a couple hours, would he? After all, he was supposed to come back at nine.

No, what was left of my inner conscience warned. You promised.

But my eyes sought the freely dangling metal hungrily. Even after the haunt of the past that rang in my ears some times and some nights, the call of my yearning was too convincing.

It's in my blood. I argued back.

One hour.

In two minutes, I was out of the house, the keys missing from the peg.

──────

The windows were rolled down, so the light breeze from outside rolled its fingers through my hair and across my skin freely.

The sun wasn't too bright because of the fading day, but the empty stadium was big enough that it seemed like it was mid-afternoon. Hands caressing the leather grip of the steering wheel, I allowed myself a grin, an excited laugh bubbling in my chest.

It had been so long since I had driven.

I drove the GT86 in circles around the large expanse of the sanded area, the bare, dry ground providing no resistance to the wheels that had long been out of use. It was a good thing that Seoul was such a big city—there were enough places which no one visited, where no one would see me drive.

The stands were empty, but I imagined the tall light beaming, the seats full, cheering filling the arena.

This isn't a monster truck.

Despite my sweaty hands, I smiled grimly and rolled up the windows halfway.

My foot pressed down on the acceleration slowly, but surely, and the car jerked awake, feeling alive under my fingertips. The thrum of energy that ran through the interior couldn't have been my imagination—the contented hum of the engine, the increasing distance between zero and the end of the pointer in the speedometer in front of me.

As the Toyota sped up, my chest tightened, and my heart drummed against my chest eagerly. The safety belt seemed almost suffocating, but that was a lesson learnt.

The car accelerated.

I grinned wide, probably looking like a mad woman, but the dust trail that the back tires of the car kicked up was like a brown fountain behind me, and I zoomed around the track with screeching speed. Hands working on the controls with experience, I raced forward, the wind whipping through my hair.

The sound of the tires screeching against track was like music to my ears, and the adrenaline emptied into my blood, urging me to go on and on and on—

"Hey!"

I think it must have been some time since the person had been calling, because there was an undertone of irritation lacing the otherwise normal voice. My heart, which had previously been racing along with my car, stopped in its tracks, and I my foot came down on the brakes hard.

The car skidded to a halt.

Around, it seemed like a dust storm—I hadn't realised how long I had been driving until I saw the yellow-brown cloud float in the air around the track my car had made, and around the Toyota especially. But what mattered more was that there was someone else here.

After the dust had settled somewhat, I hesitantly rolled down the half-up window and bit my lip worriedly. I had my license, right? The police couldn't say anything, the police couldn't know about my record—

"Hey." The casual voice didn't seem like it belonged to grumpy police officer, and the angular face that accompanied it even lesser so. "Is this your car?"

The boy had his eyes squinted, probably because of the dust, and his brown hair was messy. The expression on his face was a mixture of impressed and surprised, but the small smile on his thin lips didn't seem hesitant.

"Uh, yeah," I answered, wide-eyed, as he came closer to the car until he was just at the window. My other hand touched the bump in the pocket of my jeans, giving my the assurance that my pocket knife was still there in case anything went wrong. "Who are you?"

He grinned widely, and the smile was so nice and genuine that my tense facial muscles relaxed a little. "I should be the one asking you that." He laughed. "But I'm Vernon—Vernon Chwe—the local recruiter." His eyebrows arched. "Do you know this is a place where a lot of racing deals are carried out?"

"Racing deals?" My mind was whirling. The unexpectedness of the meeting, along with the fact that the boy didn't seem intimidated or malicious, was enough to confuse me. "What do you—"

"The racing track of this part of Seoul." Vernon's eyes gleamed, and his lips quirked up into a small catlike smile. "You look like you've been in that situation before."

My hands stilled. He wasn't completely correct, but not too far off. I had never been part of a drag race. "I'm new to Seoul."

"I never said Seoul." He grinned wider. "You know your cars, don't you? This is a pretty great sports car." He tapped the edge of the window. "And your face is almost impassive despite me telling you about something like this, which tells me you're...experienced."

"Not necessarily." I said defensively, but he wasn't wrong. "Why the hell are you even talking to me?"

Vernon's lips pulled apart in another friendly grin. "You wanna race?"

I stared at him for a moment, uncomprehending, then shook my head. "What?"

"You heard me." He winked. "I was here for some...business, I saw you drive, and was impressed." He shrugged. "I'm sure you know what a recruiter is."

"You want to recruit me for the races." I said carefully. He raised an eyebrow, like, well?

This was too sudden. I half-expected someone to jump out and tell me that I was being pranked on national T.V.

But as I waited, it seemed realer and realer. Why would someone like him just waltz up to someone like me and ask me if I wanted to race? Probably, he knew something about my past, or these people were very careless.

Was drag racing even legal in South Korea?

I shook my head again, but there was still a hint of amazement on my face. "No, thank you."

"You sure about that?" Vernon's eyebrows cocked up into an arch, but the corner of his lips was still turned up in a half-smile. "Not even a look?"

"No." I pursed my lips. "I can't."

"Funny." He stared at me, tilting his head to the side. "Most college students would jump at a chance to get easy money, especially to show off a car like that." He glanced impressedly at the GT86.

"No, thank you." I rolled up my window, which might have been rather rude, but his expression was a guarded mixture of confusion and curiosity.

But he stepped back, and I stepped on the gas.