Archive of Our Own ^beta

2021

PRE-SEASON  •  SOUTH KOREA
SOURCE RACING HQ, HWASEONG

“Here, take this,” Chaewon said, her hand outstretched. “What’s there to be nervous about?”

“Thank you,” Yunjin said, relieved, taking the towel and drying her sweating palms. There was a lot to be nervous about. On the other side of the curtain were dozens of Source Racing staff; engineers, managers, mechanics, legal counsel, you name it. They could hear the chatter of the crowd, but for Yunjin the worse sensation was the weight of their expectations. This was her crowning ceremony for that burden. 

Chaewon smoothed her hands over her racesuit and exhaled. She had started letting her black bob grow out compared to how short it was during her rookie season, and it fell neatly over her shoulders. “You’ll get used to it,” she assured Yunjin. 

“It’s much better on track,” Yunjin decided. Her own soft brown hair was tied up in a high ponytail, and she had to resist the urge to adjust it every few minutes. There was nothing else to do with her hands. “Don’t you think? There’s no time to be scared. It’s like being on a rollercoaster. You’re locked in and falling before you have the chance to feel fear.”

“Yeah, I don’t think you’ll be immune to fear in Hwaseong,” Chaewon said, amused. “Not if you can’t deliver results.” 

Yunjin envied her - two full seasons with the team must have been more than enough time to earn the favor of those she worked with. But Somi’s voice echoed in her mind: you’re only as good as your last race. Chaewon still had it all to play for. And Yunjin would not be here at all if she didn’t believe she could equal or best Chaewon, never mind the rest of the grid.

On the other side of the curtain, their team principal’s voice got louder. “I’m happy to introduce our line-up for this year to you all—”

“It’s almost time,” Chaewon said. “Are you ready?” Instinctively, Yunjin reached out, and for a split second their fingertips brushed.

“Our third-year returning driver, Kim Chaewon!”

Chaewon slipped away, leaving Yunjin alone behind the curtain. The event coordinator signaled for her to walk up the stairs. She took a deep breath and stepped forward.

“Our new driver, Huh Yunjin, a first-year driver in Formula Asia!”

RACE 1  •  SOUTH KOREA

“14th isn’t bad,” Yunjin heard from the periphery.

Chaewon wasn’t bragging, exactly, but encouraging her at all made it clear Yunjin was not a rival to her. It was like Chaewon was patting her on the head to make her feel better, even though her results weren't really worth anything. 14th wasn’t bad if the whole field finished, which was not the case today; it might be relevant in the incredibly unlikely event that the championships were so close they'd be fighting for a place on countbacks. Well, it wasn’t as if the Source Racing car was the best on the grid. And yet Chaewon had still ended up in the points.

Yunjin was sitting on the ground with her race suit half undone, an aggressively-sized water bottle in her hands. Her race engineer had tried to reassure her, and their team principal came on the radio at the end of the race to tell her she did a good job, but it was hard to believe.

“Don’t mope,” Chaewon said. She towered over Yunjin like this, blocking the sun from view. Her face was cast in shadows.

Yunjin looked up at her. From the limited time the pair had spent together since she joined the team, Yunjin thought Chaewon had always felt somewhat reserved. It was a symptom of her introversion, perhaps, but nevertheless, that kind of self-preservation made it difficult to open up to her. Yunjin considered herself an introvert, but not bad with strangers. At this point Chaewon wasn’t just a stranger, though.

“It’s your first race in a new series,” Chaewon said, counting off her fingers. “You were out of full-time racing for a whole year. And everyone who finished ahead of you has a better car.”

“I made mistakes, though.” That was the thing; if Yunjin had truly maximized the potential of the car, there would be nothing else to say. Chaewon placing ahead of her in 9th meant she had extracted more out of it.

“Don’t read social media then,” Chaewon said, sitting next to her and leaning against the garage wall. “Listen, no one watching the race on TV is going to be able to judge you better than the team you’re working with. They’re the ones that know what the car is capable of and what you’re doing to do better next time. Take it from me— they’ll appreciate you criticizing your own race rationally. I don’t think any of them are bullshitting you when they say you had a good race today. All things considered.”

Drivers didn’t have a lot of time to spend on someone who wouldn’t be beneficial to them in some way. Ironically, Chaewon’s tentative smile convinced Yunjin she was being genuine. “Thank you,” she said, surprised. It wasn’t abnormal for teammates to be friends, exactly, and in fact it was probably better to be friends, unless you were in a car contending for the title. It was more like Yunjin herself was scared of Chaewon specifically. Fear of the unknown, maybe. Or the unknowable. “It’s nice of you to give me that advice. You didn’t have to.”

Chaewon looked at the engineers across the garage, still analyzing data from the race. “I guess I see a little of myself in you,” she said.

“Ah.” Yunjin didn’t know what to say and sipped water from the poly straw. It was impossible to gauge what connection she was making and assuming one felt far too presumptuous.

Chaewon must have thought she’d done enough and got up. “I want a good challenge this year,” she said, brushing the dirt off her suit. “That’s all.”

“You’re the only one I can compare myself to, so I won’t back down,” Yunjin returned, but her voice came out unsteady, still.

Chaewon considered her words for a moment as she gathered her things and replied, “If it makes you feel better, no one expects you to do better than me this year.”

RACE 2  •  JAPAN

“So proud of you,” Somi said, grinning. They were sitting on the curb outside the shuttle, waiting for the driver who would take them to the airport. Yunjin had known her for ages, and they both spoke fluent English, so it felt just like old times instead of the end of a long work day. “You were so worried after last week and for what.”

“This is nothing,” Yunjin said, a bit modestly but mostly seriously, considering it was human nature to set a higher expectation of yourself the moment you achieved something. And it wasn't just her that wanted even more out of her performance. “Also, objectively...”

“Listen,” Somi said, “Either you did a great job in a car that normally would be hard pressed to compete for points, or you earned a place in Formula Asia in a team that’s good enough to get points, as a rookie. Either way it’s a pretty nice accomplishment.”

“And you got, what, 5th in the championship in your rookie season?” Yunjin laughed.

Somi’s gaze softened as their team members walked towards them, carrying their baggage. “Be proud of yourself for once, you idiot!”

“You know you wouldn’t be if you were in my position,” she said, and Somi couldn’t deny it.

“Racing is always a balancing game between thinking you’re invincible and keeping your ego in check so you don’t get complacent.” Somi stood up to carry her bag onto the shuttle. “I’m not worried about you yet.”

Yunjin’s mother called her during Sihyuk’s speech at the team dinner, and she snuck out during dessert to call back.

“Oh, I’m eating tons of fruit,” Yunjin said into the phone. “I’m not joking! I even took pictures!” She minimized the call to paste the photos into the WhatsApp chat, starting with the bowls of cut melons and strawberries in the team catering spread, and ending with a cheeky shot of the raspberry on the slice of cheesecake she had left at the table. “Tons of fruit,” she said.

The winery had a stone covered walkway from the outdoor seating to the garden, and she wandered in between while on the phone, keeping an eye on the table.

“I take pictures of everything because I know you want to see! I need a bigger phone though, I’ll run out of storage. Buy me a new one?

“Yes, I’ll be flying back to New York as soon as the Malaysian GP is over. Why?

“Don’t set the party for the day I get back! I’m going to be so jetlagged...

“Yeah, don’t worry, I’ll make sure you have tickets for the Seoul street race. Are you sure you don’t want to go with Rachel to one of the summer races? I think she wants to go to Macau...

“Well, you still have time to think about it. Just let me know, okay?”

Across the green they’d turned the fire pits on, and Yunjin was starting to feel the evening chill. It was only April in South Korea, and they hadn’t been welcomed back with particularly warm weather. Yunjin watched them for a bit while her mother fussed about how things were going in New York. Her performance coach waved at her and some people were starting to get up. “Hey, I gotta go soon. I left my cheesecake sitting out there and it was pretty good!”

At the end of the table, Chaewon was looking at her, not waving like Kaeun was, nor did she have a reason to feel particularly abandoned among people she was close to, but it still was almost as if she was waiting for Yunjin to come back. It was a little difficult to tell whether that was imagined or not.

“Don’t worry too much,” Yunjin said before hanging up, after her mom asked how she was coping while her family felt her absence so keenly. “It turns out you find ways not to feel lonely.”

RACE 4  •  CHINA

Yunjin felt especially awkward whenever she watched the playback of Source’s videos for social media. Sian did most of the monitoring to make sure the lighting was good and everything, because what driver has time for that, but once in a while she’d tell Yunjin to watch herself in a funny clip; Yunjin would lean over, watch and laugh, but walk away feeling mortified and a bit distorted, like she’d just watched a drunk clip from the previous night and no longer remembered what actually happened.

“It’s cute,” Sian said, handing the camera back to Goeun, who filmed their all-access vids. “I haven't shown Chaewon yet. Do you not think it’s cute?” she asked, as Yunjin frowned.

“It’s not that,” Yunjin answered. “I just... get embarrassed sometimes, watching myself.”

“You look fine though?” Sian didn’t really get it and there wasn’t a part of Yunjin that felt capable of describing the issue out loud. Yunjin was usually an “act first, think later” person though and it tended to backfire when it came to managing boundaries with other people.

“I can’t explain it,” she said, shaking her head. “Don’t worry about it.” 

She went to the eating area and asked for a coconut water and avocado toast, the mildest midday snack she could think of, and ran into Chaewon, who was holding a protein shake she’d grabbed from the fridge. 

“Do you want to watch a bit of the Junior FA qualifying?” Chaewon asked.

Yunjin blinked. “From where?”

“I’m going down to the junior paddock to watch from the Source garage,” Chaewon said. Not all Formula Asia grands prix had support races, so Yunjin didn’t know if Chaewon did this regularly or not. “You don’t have to,” she added, not sounding like she particularly minded either way.

“Oh, I want to,” Yunjin said. “I’m curious about who the rising stars are going to be!” She wolfed down the avocado toast and followed Chaewon out the door.

“Kazuha is doing well,” Chaewon said as they walked, referring to the driver in their academy who helped with their simulator work, and who held a reserve driver position in case one of them was unable to race. “I’m rooting for her.”

They’d sat in the Source garage and watched Kazuha top the timing screens, then fall as other drivers crossed the finish line, and rise again later in the session. It felt too early to congratulate the juniors afterward as if she was in such a senior and accomplished position, having raced a total of 3 times in Formula Asia, so it was kind of a relief the two of them had to rush to a team meeting before the end of qualifying. Only then did Yunjin think about the implications of the fact that Formula Asia drivers watched the juniors race, and evaluated them casually in between sessions.

“Do you usually tell the junior drivers they did a good job after?” Yunjin asked as they jogged towards the Source hospitality structure under the sun. She hadn’t been part of the Source Driver Academy and didn’t remember impressing any particular FA driver while she was in the series.

“If I think they deserved it,” Chaewon said. Yunjin thought back to her own first race in FA, and how earned Chaewon’s kind words seemed after realizing their weight. She herself would probably be unable to contain her praise for the younger drivers if she was in the position to mentor; that was just how she was.

“Complementary,” Yunjin mused to herself. 

Chaewon turned her head. “What was that? Hey, we’re so late.”

“Oh, nothing,” Yunjin said dismissively, sprinting down the asphalt beside her.

After their second free practice was over, Somi and Jihyo swung by the other end of the paddock on their way to an autograph session. “Oh, there’s this great restaurant downtown,” Jihyo was saying, scrolling through her phone for pictures. “It’s so worth getting reservations for.” Somi nodded enthusiastically in agreement, while Yunjin smiled in front of them, with nothing to add. 

“You need to get out more,” Somi said, leaning on the crowd control fence. She looked directly at Yunjin. “It’s too obvious.”

“I am so cultured,” Yunjin insisted, animated in her self-defense. “Just less so around here. I grew up in the US and this is literally my first time in mainland China.”

“Okay,” Somi said, lifting her sunglasses, “this is easy to fix. Just hang out with me more and let me rub off on you.” Jihyo laughed and looked at Yunjin with the sort of motherly glance you would expect from a girl several years her senior.

“I’ll see you there,” Jihyo said, touching Somi on the shoulder and mounting her bicycle. She was the type of girl whose smile showed in her eyes. “Let’s eat together sometime, Yunjin.”

“Okay!” Yunjin called, waving her off. It was a relief to feel comfortable around a driver that wasn’t Somi.

“Right, so anyway,” Somi continued. “My five-step plan for turning you A-list.”

Yunjin rolled her eyes. “Step 1?”

“You don’t eat out as much as I do. And when I say eat out I mean fine dining, not the local joints, which trust me, I love too. But you need to accept my invitations even if you don’t like dressing up. You’re an FA driver now.”

“Yeah, but you have a model boyfriend,” Yunjin pointed out incredulously. “You sponsor a million luxury brands. Dressing up is kind of your second job.”

“Oh, if that’s what you want,” Somi said, a scheming grin on her face, “I can hook you up so easily.”

Yunjin had dug herself into a bit of a corner. “It’s not,” she said honestly. “Give me a season, at least. I’m not there yet.”

“Okay fine, but come to dinner with us on Sunday.”

Yunjin crinkled her nose at the word ‘us’. “And third wheel?”

Somi smiled. “I didn’t say you couldn’t bring someone. You could bring anyone, really.”

“Did you ask Jihyo?”

“She has plans with her own boyfriend,” Somi said with a laugh.

“Well,” Yunjin said, exasperation in her voice. “I can’t exactly invite my sister.”

“You have a teammate,” Somi said, tilting her head so she had a better view of the girl behind Yunjin, exiting the Source building. When Yunjin turned around to see who it was, Somi started waving, then grabbed the handlebars of her bike before Yunjin could ask what she was doing.

“What?”

“I gotta go,” Somi said, jetting off without a real goodbye. Yunjin got the feeling Somi thought she knew more than she was letting on, although Yunjin wasn’t convinced that she did.

Chaewon came out, her shoulder-length hair pulled into a short ponytail at the base of her neck. “Was she looking for me?” she asked Yunjin, who was left a bit dumbfounded.

“Somi told me to ask you if you wanted to go out for dinner with us.” She winced at her own delivery; it was so awkward it sounded like a lie. 

Chaewon looked surprised, but she didn't look uninterested. “I wouldn't want to impose,” was all she said.

“Somi is bringing her boyfriend,” Yunjin said rapidly. So embarrassing, she thought to herself. “And I don't want to third wheel alone. I even think it would be better to fifth wheel, if you want to bring someone. I mean, I have no idea if you have a boyfriend. You don't talk about him.”

That truth was too normal to be suspect. Yunjin browsed the gossip Instagram accounts more than once or twice, back when she was still in junior FA. Part of it was idealistic hope that you could sustain a healthy, public relationship even in a sport so competitive and all-consuming. But she had stopped after signing the full time contract with Source. She had bigger things to worry about, and as it turned out there were some things that were easier to not know.

Chaewon opened her mouth to speak, but Yunjin was almost afraid of what would come out. She didn't know what answer would be worse, anyway.

“Or a girlfriend,” Yunjin continued, starting to ramble. “I don’t know why I thought or said—”

“Yunjin.”

“Yes?” She was out of breath.

“I don’t have either.”

RACE 6  •  THAILAND

The drivers’ parade was scheduled for a few hours before the race started. “My car is so cute today,” Yuqi cooed, fawning over the vintage open-top sedan she would be driving. It was parked a few meters away from the girls, who were huddled under an umbrella for shade and basking in the vicinity of an oversized fan. Minnie turned to look and had to do a double take.

“It’s so... pink,” she said. The paint of the car was best described as a hot fuschia.

“It’s very Barbie,” Ningning commented. “But you’ll stand out for sure.”

“It’s mine,” Yuqi declared. “I don’t care if you all don’t like it because it’s my baby.”

Minnie smiled politely, fanning herself with a magazine her manager had pilfered from who-knows-where. “It’s yours for an hour, Song Yuqi. But I don’t think anyone would take it away even if you let them.”

Yuqi was as offended as one could get about something so inconsequential. “You’d really rather have your boring washed out cars?”

Yunjin made a face and shook her head. Chaewon made the same face but stuck her tongue out too.

“You don’t look cute like that,” Yunjin said.

“Neither do you,” Chaewon retorted.

Yunjin smiled with her hands clasped together. “Imitation is only flattery if done respectfully.” 

“You guys are almost more competitive off track than you are on track,” Sakura observed from behind. Suddenly the world came back into focus. 

Yunjin laughed, using it to mask how she’d forgotten again that other people could hear them. Chaewon didn’t seem affected. “Only because I haven’t quite caught up to her in the races.”

“So childish,” Ningning said airily, instead of something else.

“I hate my job,” Yunjin said, feeling both mentally and physically ill. 

“Don’t say things you don’t mean where Park Soyeon can hear,” Chaewon said, unsympathetic. “You know who’s waiting in the wings... there’s that new girl in the academy, Hong Eunchae, she could take your place.” 

“I’m going to throw up,” Yunjin replied, frowning. She flopped backwards onto the other queen bed in Chaewon’s hotel room, a cold face mask stolen from her mini fridge and smoothed over her skin. 

“Oh, don’t. This isn’t your room.”

Yunjin had just sweated out what felt like 70% of her body weight in the Thai GP and then had to give post-race interviews in the humid media pen, still drenched in her own fluids. It would have been easier to tolerate if she had a good result to talk about, but she was berating herself in front of her least favorite reporter while Chaewon was on the other side of the room, pleased at having gained three positions over the course of the race, and ending in the points. Yunjin had whined so much about it all afterwards that she inadvertently followed Chaewon all the way back to her hotel room while talking to her, and for some reason Chaewon let her come in.

Chaewon walked over and pulled a konjac jelly pouch from the fridge. “Drink, hydrate, get out.”

She peeled the mask off her face and discarded it in the bin as Chaewon tossed the pouch onto the bed. “It’s hot outside,” Yunjin complained, as if Chaewon wasn’t trying to fix her problems for her. The more Chaewon relented the easier it was for Yunjin to let herself go instead of working at maintaining some respectful distance in their professional relationship, which could honestly only be a bad thing.

“You know the rest of the Southeast Asia leg of the calendar is just as brutal as this, right? It’s not time to be slumped over.”

Yunjin had sat up, twisted open the pouch cap and started sucking on it. “Ooh, peach flavor.”

Chaewon stared at her for a long moment, an inscrutable expression on her face. “...I’m going to work out,” she said. “Leave before I get back, okay? I don’t want to be responsible for making sure you’re alive.”

“Hong Eunchae doesn’t have the qualifications to race in Formula Asia, right?” Yunjin asked, sitting pretty there on top of the sheets.

“Don’t worry about it,” Chaewon said, slipping her key card into her pocket and heading out the door.

As Yunjin left Chaewon’s room she heard the elevator ding, and Jeon Somi came out with her physical trainer.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Somi told her trainer, waiting for Yunjin to walk over and say hi. She raised her eyebrows.

“Hi, Somi,” Yunjin said, a twinge of guilt in her voice. Evidently Source only had half the floor booked. It was obvious Yunjin hadn’t even changed out of her post-race clothes yet.

“Were you in Chaewon’s room?” Somi asked suspiciously.

“It’s not like that.”

“Why does she even let you in there? I’m sure she’s as exhausted as you are. Maybe more, since she obviously worked harder today.” It was counterintuitive how every Formula Asia driver would respond to your insecurities by pointing out your failures. Somehow it was a reminder of the exact opposite: that she was there anyway, that she still deserved to be despite them. At least there was a level of nuance to it. Luck and inexperience both gave her something to blame her performance on. But it wasn’t Chaewon’s job to console her, either. Teammates don't owe each other that.

Yunjin sighed. “I think that telling me how to get over myself makes her feel better about herself.” It wasn’t impossible for Chaewon to have good intentions, but it was easier to think she didn’t. And yet it was harder still to think about the reasons for her own actions.

Somi shook her head. “Take your heart off your sleeve,” she said, before heading towards her room. 

RACE 7  •  VIETNAM

RACE 8  •  INDONESIA

The whole thing was a blur, really. Sian had reminded her their flight was scheduled for 7:25 AM on Monday morning, and Yunjin promptly put it out of her mind the moment Yena accosted her outside the media pen. 

“Let’s go drinking later,” she said, a playful smile on her face. “I know a few good places in Jakarta.” Yuqi and Yena had already gone around and sought out half the girls that had been out of earshot of the mics. Ningning and Jimin were definitely up for it. Joohyun claimed she was too old to go out and be harassed by men but Seulgi told her to go for a round at least; that alone got most of the grid to take interest.

“Chaewon’s going?” Yunjin asked. She was exhausted but didn’t think she could miss this.

Yena grinned. “She will if I have anything to do with it!”

Yunjin promised Kaeun she wouldn’t do anything crazy and she kept her promise for the most part. A little vodka was okay and didn’t lend itself to a hangover. But after they moved bars she couldn’t resist the soju cocktail Ryujin offered her, and another, and then she was slumped over the table for a bit while the girls chatted around her.

“You are such a lightweight,” Somi teased, sliding into the empty seat next to her.

“I’m just sleepy,” Yunjin protested, resting on her hands. “It’s been a long day.”

“I’m glad you came out,” Somi said. Yunjin was too; it was so interesting seeing the older drivers in a different context. She’d never really spoken to Sihyeon, but spent a little too long watching her reenact a story to Yiren, the latter’s quiet laughter bright in response. “I’m just happy to see you with all the other FA drivers. Here. Half the season over. Just one more until the summer break.” 

“It’s crazy how much has happened since March,” Yunjin said. Across the bar Yena had once again dragged Chaewon to the jukebox machine and made her pick a song. Her taste was so old-school it was actually laughable. 

“I’m heading out,” Somi said. “Do you want to go? I can have you dropped off on the way back.”

Yunjin shook her head. “I’ll drink some water.”

“Get home safely,” Somi said, hugging her before she got up.

Almost as soon as Somi and Jihyo had left, Ningning swooped in and made Yunjin perform a karaoke duet with her. It was amazing how good two amateurs could sound singing power ballads after a few drinks. Jimin went solo. Minnie and Yuqi sounded just as nice performing R&B; in the meantime, Yena had only gotten more wasted. 

“It’s 11,” Ningning said, checking her phone.

Yuqi stood up and waved someone over to get her the tab. “Okay, we’re going home,” she said. “I’m closing out.”

“It’s not even that late,” Yena whined.

“I couldn’t stop her,” Chaewon said. She looked absolutely winded. “Are you taking care of her?”

“We’re staying at the same place,” Yuqi said, taking Yena by the wrist, firm to keep her close but gentle enough not to bruise. “Also, I deserve it for inviting her out.”

“Then I’ll call a cab,” Chaewon said, speaking to Yunjin. 

“Ah, okay, thanks,” she responded. 

The seven of them that were left stood outside in the humid air under the overhang, rain dripping from the gutters. “I can’t wait to take a cold shower,” Yunjin said. “I feel more dehydrated than I did after the race.”

“The hotel water pressure is really nice,” Chaewon said absently, typing in card details on her phone.

Yena turned to Yunjin. “Oh, you’re going home together?” Yena asked, quite sweetly. Her face turned red immediately. Yunjin had really thought she was sober.

Yuqi nearly shoved her in the back seat of the taxi she’d hailed, apologized to the driver, then turned around, her face stricken with secondhand embarrassment. Minnie just laughed and got in the front seat.

“Have a good night,” said Chaewon calmly, their ride right around the corner.

“I have two liters of water in my mini fridge,” Chaewon said as Yunjin eyed the hotel snack shop. 

“I feel like I need to eat an entire meal,” Yunjin said. “I’m not tired at all.” In retrospect, there was definitely an energy drink in one of those cocktails.

“You’re an idiot. Possibly worse than Choi Yena.” 

“Oh, I know.”

They passed the food display, Yunjin thinking about acceptable carbohydrates to consume at midnight. “You are not going to knock on Kaeun’s door right now,” Chaewon said, like she could read her mind. “Don’t you have a conscience?”

“Is your door any better?” she asked in spite of herself.

Chaewon didn’t say anything as they waited for the elevator. “I’m not tired either,” she answered as they stepped in the lift. Yunjin had no idea what she’d drank that night.

When they got to her room Chaewon took the clean glasses from the bathroom and the bottles out of the fridge. She’d dug a granola bar out of her bag too, and tossed it towards Yunjin, who was still standing.

“Drink it all,” Chaewon said, “you’ll never fall asleep otherwise.” She sat on the bed first, having peeled off her outfit in favor of lounge shorts and a tee. “Did you want to borrow something?”

Yunjin could not say out loud that if she left now to freshen up in her own room she would not have the nerve to come back. “If you have something,” she said.

Finally they were both sitting on the duvet. The air conditioning blasted from the wall vent and the first liter of water was already gone.

“Well, ask me the questions you’ve always wanted to know the answers to,” Chaewon said, facetiously.

It was insane what line of questioning that statement actually prompted. Yunjin instead remembered the day they’d watched the academy drivers race, and how desperately she’d wondered what people really thought of her.

“Do you think it’s better to get into FA younger than to have a few more years in the junior series?” 

Chaewon looked at her, trying to judge what she really meant by asking that. “You didn’t really have either,” she said.

“I got the worst of both worlds,” Yunjin admitted. “No one wants a gap year.” 

It would be too trite to pity her for it. “I don’t think there’s a right answer,” Chaewon said. “You can’t rush yourself. I’ve known drivers who burnt out young.” There was a wistfulness in her voice, and Yunjin realized she was probably talking about her ex-teammate Minju. “It doesn’t necessarily get easier. They expect more of you the longer you’ve been in the game. I don’t know if different circumstances would have changed anything, but there’s no unequivocal principle that just because you make it young you’re going to last.” 

Yunjin sighed. “It’s just the same if you enter FA late and get kicked right out of the gate because you can’t get to grips with the car.”

“Some of that choice is about compatibility,” Chaewon said. “It’s not always that you weren’t enough. It’s about timing and luck, too. You’re doing a good job,” she reiterated.

Yunjin traced the stitching on the duvet. “I’m not asking for your reassurance.” 

“Yeah, this isn’t lip service,” Chaewon said. “I know. At the end of the day it’s not really your choice, anyway. All you can do is show what you can do and how much you want it, and see who wants you back.”

“I don’t think entrances to Formula Asia or Formula One have ever been granted on the basis of desire,” Yunjin said ruefully.

Chaewon tried to smile. “There’s too much objective merit involved,” she said. “But that’s not entirely a bad thing.”

“In a way, doesn’t that make you feel a little good about yourself?” Yunjin asked, her voice hopeful. “That no one can deny you were good enough to make it here?” 

“I would never let myself be satisfied by that,” Chaewon said, her rationality on display in full contrast. “I couldn’t ever think it was enough to be anything but the objective best, or else I wouldn’t be able to keep chasing my dreams, even though they get harder and harder to achieve.” 

“Have you never wanted to at least be good enough in the eyes of one person?”

“A person can’t be so greedy, Yunjin.”

Chaewon looked at her almost critically, but there was still this element of sadness to it. Yunjin had spent all this time trying to decide if it was more meaningful to be respected by Chaewon or loved by her. But then when she was right in front of her, when Chaewon let her in, both of those desires were overwritten with another type of longing. It was hard not to want everything when it was right in front of you. All you had to do was reach out.

“You can be anything,” Yunjin said to her, voice low. “If you let yourself.” She looked right at her, and held her gaze.

“You don’t know anything about me,” Chaewon said, but she had to turn away. It was like she was calculating all the consequences of her potential actions. 

Yunjin had never moved toward Chaewon first. It was always her door to close. “I’ll leave,” she said simply. “I don’t want to have to ask.”

Chaewon closed her eyes. “Should I do something absolutely idiotic,” she said. It was how you’d speak if you knew exactly what you wanted to do and just needed someone to validate your bad, bad idea.

“Yeah,” Yunjin said. “You should.” 

Chaewon studied her carefully, before leaning in to kiss her. There was something to having wanted something for so long without even knowing what it was and finally receiving it. It was too good to be true, Yunjin thought, as Chaewon brushed her waist and she instantly felt hot all over. Some people were never meant to get what they long for.

She moved closer to Yunjin so that she was nearly flat against the bed, heart racing and face flushed. “Is this what you want?” Chaewon whispered.

“Yes,” she answered, a little breathless, already resigned to the fact that she’d regret it in the morning. Yunjin wasn’t that naive. 

It was a good thing Chaewon wasn’t going to take advantage of that.

RACE 9  •  MALAYSIA

“When were you going to tell me,” Yunjin asked. She’d yanked Chaewon out of a conversation with Park Soyeon with the most apologetic look she could muster and pulled them both into the back stairwell of the hospitality building. There was absolutely no way to describe what she was going through.

Chaewon was at a loss for words. “You...” 

“I didn't know what to say to the media. I didn't even know how I felt, never mind what I should say to the media.”

“You came up with something,” Chaewon said, leaning against the stair door.

“Yoonah did,” she mumbled.

“Well, it wasn’t even my news to tell. My agent negotiated the contract and I didn't know when it would be announced or even when it would go through.”

“Okay, but—” You don’t owe me anything but I wanted to hear it from you, Yunjin meant to say. I want to know what I mean to you—  

She cut Yunjin off. “A good racing driver should be able to handle emotions with a day's notice. You should at least be able to do that. Otherwise, how are you going to make it on track?” 

Yunjin woke up to a sea of Mylar balloons, a distressed assistant, and a dull ache in her shoulders. “Ryujin’s still across the hall. Your parents are flying over,” Sian said, reading off updates from her phone. She thrust the cup of water in Yunjin’s face, unsolicited, and waved it there until Yunjin took it. Then she went to tidy up the traces of everyone who had gone in and out of Yunjin’s room while she was asleep. “I don’t think they’ll be in until after you’re discharged, but they want to be here for you.”

“That’s silly,” Yunjin said weakly, “I was going straight home to New York after this.”

Sian stopped cleaning up around the hospital bed and sighed. “Are you really okay?”

According to the medical center, she wasn’t showing signs of injury— after the crash she’d wanted to go back to the garage and watch, but the doctor wanted her monitored overnight. Yunjin had Sian read her the final classification as she was lying in bed with her eyes closed, from Miyawaki Sakura in first, down to Kim Chaewon in fifth, and beyond to the backmarkers, the drivers who she crashed into, or who’d crashed into her, depending on who you asked.

“I think I’m fine,” she muttered, gripping her forehead with her left hand. “I need a massage, maybe.”

“You’re such a liar,” Sian said. She looked out the window to give Yunjin a moment to collect herself.

The trauma was much more incisive than blunt in this case. So Sungjin had listened to the medical report with Yunjin and assured her she would be cleared to race after the summer break. The sport was safer than ever in regards to physical injury. But thinking about getting back into the car after a month and having to prove to herself all over again that she had the right judgment, spatial awareness, aptitude, fearlessness— that she was much more uncertain about.

Yunjin reached out to set down the cup of water and stopped, her eyes hesitating over the bedside table. “Who’s this from? Source?”

“Kind of? Chaewon left it and the fruit,” Sian recalled. “Ah, I forgot. Somi is coming by after her sponsor obligations this morning, but Chaewon came really early— so early that there was no way you’d be awake, I thought— you were supposed to film that Adidas ad. They might push your slot to tomorrow if you’re better. Kaeun will be back in an hour or so.”

Yunjin’s mind felt hazy still. The bouquet of flowers, crowned with lilies and roses in the softest shade of pink, had been transferred to a vase already. It filled the space next to her to the point where Yunjin couldn’t understand how she hadn’t noticed it before. “Am I allergic to pollen?” she asked Sian, who surely knew Yunjin better than she did herself at that moment. “Why do I feel like crying?”

RACE 15  •  JAPAN

“You’ll still see me,” Chaewon said softly, across from her.

The post-season dinner had run its course and Bang Sihyuk had handed them both way too many glasses of soju. Chaewon had taken to dumping hers under the table and pretending it was an accident.

Yunjin stared at the soju puddle on the floor and pled with herself furiously not to cry. “Yes.”

“It will be less than before,” Chaewon conceded.

It would be. They would both be at all the races but the part that would be missing was all the time at the factory, in the sim, commiserating over a bad weekend, filming ads together, matching their schedules, and working towards the same goal, which really felt like almost everything that mattered.

“You’re not as fragile as you thought you were back in March,” Chaewon said.

The second half of the season had been rough, but in some ways it was what she needed. It had been very careless of her to get so attached to her teammate that she forgot what she was competing for. In the 6 races after the summer break, there were plenty of distractions for her. Yunjin spent much longer at the circuit after sessions, looking at data and studying which corners she lost the most time in. Between refining her tire management, learning to adapt to the car’s upgrades, and providing feedback on what direction to develop their car in, there was so much to focus on instead of the girl on the other side of the garage.

But that was over now, and there was nothing left to think about except the reality of the end.

“I don’t know how to let go,” she said quietly. A server leaned in next to her to clear plates off the table. Yunjin could never really say out loud exactly what she wanted to, and yet Chaewon understood anyway.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Chaewon said in that soft voice. “You’re not here for me. You have your own ambitions.”

That reminder made it even worse. Yunjin wasn’t supposed to want her more than her dream.

“And I really think Yena will be a good rival for you,” she continued. “Not to be crass, but Yena didn’t choose to leave Vernalossom. There’s a vulnerability there that you should exploit.”

It didn’t escape Yunjin that Chaewon would tell her how to destroy her own best friend. She was still giving advice as if she was a mentor and not an equal. Yena... what would Chaewon tell Yena about her? What did Yunjin want Chaewon to tell Yena about her? What did she want Chaewon to hide from her?

“Chaewon unnie,” she said, a great emphasis on the last word. Half the table had gotten up to leave; Bang Sihyuk was far gone enough that he wouldn’t notice if they did too. In the moment it didn’t really feel like any of that was important, though.

“Yeah?”

“Can we stop talking?”

Chaewon frowned. “You mean you want to cut off contact with me?”

“No,” Yunjin said. The straps of Chaewon's dress were tied so loosely. “I mean that I want you to do something else right now instead of talk.”

Chaewon flinched, and she looked away slightly. “I don’t think this is a good idea,” she said. Yunjin could see the skin exposed on her shoulder, where her neck met her collarbone. “Not for my sake. For yours.”

“You’re always telling me what to do,” Yunjin said, increasingly desperate. “Or what not to do. Don’t be nervous, don’t worry, don’t cry. I finally feel like...”

Chaewon bit her lip very hard. It was very stupid of her because it only made Yunjin want her more.

“I finally know what I need,” Yunjin said, making eye contact with her. She reached across the table.

This time next month she would be in New York, fourteen hours away from Seoul. For a few weeks she’d take vacation, abandon KakaoTalk and lose herself in the anonymity of the city. Then she’d fly back to Seoul for pre-season training, and Chaewon would be in Tokyo.

The sun was setting outside and the rays of light filtered through the open windows, bright orange and red. “One last time,” Chaewon said.

2022

PRE-SEASON  •  SOUTH KOREA
SOURCE RACING HQ, HWASEONG

The conference room was already full by the time Yunjin had arrived for their first internal PR strategy meeting of the year. Yena’s inauguration had been the previous week, and it brought back so many memories. It was strange standing next to someone who was new to everyone else and feeling more out of place anyway, like it was her who had left everything she knew behind. At least the meeting room was familiar.

“We’re going to be filming a documentary series this year,” their head of communications said.

Yunjin looked up. “For Netflix?” The rumors had swirled around at the end of 2021; it was unclear who would take part even if it was greenlighted.

“It’s the Drive to Survive series,” Yoonah said. She was smiling like she always did, even when she was delivering shit news. Everyone in the Formula Asia paddock knew what Drive to Survive had done for Formula 1. She didn’t need to mention what it would do to the drivers.

“So the documentary crews will be filming starting next week,” Sooyoung continued, distributing schedules around the table. “Participation is required for us to keep our funding status. When they’re on site they’re cleared to be in the following areas, during the listed times...”

Yena didn’t look entirely upset about it. Yunjin figured that if you had a few years under your belt already, it would be easy enough to do what you always did; but having to manage her image so carefully was much more likely to destabilize her, during a critical time when she already had so much to prove.

“I’m worried,” Yunjin whispered, as Yoonah gave the rest of her presentation.

Sian looked at her sympathetically. “Don’t think of it like that. It’ll be really good for your brand.”

“That’s not exactly at the top of my concerns right now,” Yunjin said.

“Think of it as a way to sell your charms. For people to see you and know you better.”

“They won’t really know me at all,” Yunjin lamented.

2023

PRE-SEASON TESTING  •  SOUTH KOREA

“You’ve gotten so blunt speaking to the media,” Chaewon observed from behind her. 

“Oh, it’s the vice-champion,” Yunjin said. Chaewon looked as confident as ever, going into her fifth season already. She must have been watching during Yunjin’s interview. It felt like Yunjin was seeing her for the first time in ages. They stood a few meters’ distance from the Vernalossom hospitality building, and personnel passed them walking in both directions.

“I saw what you said about me. On Netflix,” Chaewon added redundantly. 

“I haven’t watched it,” Yunjin said, blushing against her will.

“My mother sent me the clip,” Chaewon said. “It was nice.”

“They didn’t edit out as much as I thought they would,” Yunjin confessed. She couldn’t bear to look at herself on camera, but from Rachel’s summaries of the episodes she was in, she already knew she had been too honest.

That made Chaewon smile. “You must have felt really comfortable with the PD.”

“She listened to me,” Yunjin said, shrugging. “I guess she was like my FA Management mandated therapist.”

“Maybe it won’t be so bad after all then,” Chaewon reflected.

“Oh, you’re doing it this year?”

Chaewon grinned. “Sure am. The whole world will hear my secrets this time next year, too.”

It was more embarrassing to hear her say it like that. “How was your winter break?” Yunjin asked, to change the subject. It was like making small talk with a stranger again, except there was no reason for them not to make an excuse to leave unless they didn’t want to.

Chaewon looked over towards the track, the sun shining over the empty grandstands. 

“I heard you were with Yeonjun,” she said.

The media didn’t know how to rest. There was some truth to the rumors, just like there was a few years back when Choi Yeonjun had first been spotted in the paddock, except then his name had been tied to Chaewon’s.

“It wasn’t like that,” Yunjin said, and meant it. She couldn’t have dated him seriously even if she wanted to. It was so messed up, really. Your first love is a primacy effect; it didn’t matter how many people Yunjin could get fleeting gratification from, after Chaewon. 

“He’s an acquired taste,” Chaewon said, laughing.

“I wouldn’t be so unkind,” Yunjin said, not just because it was so much easier to say what you really felt as someone with more experience, in life, in racing, in anything. I always wanted you, I think.

Chaewon shook her head. “It’s strange seeing you now.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re different. I...” Yunjin looked at her expectantly. It was like her eyes flickered back into the past, as if looking for the memory of who Yunjin was before she grew into herself. “You made it on your own,” Chaewon concluded. “I’m happy for you.”

It really did feel like skydiving. Somi had told her once that all you had to do to relieve the fear was jump. “Do you ever think about me?” Yunjin asked, openhearted, the way she always had been. “Because the truth is that I think about you all the time.”

Chaewon looked up at that brave girl. “I would like to think that I changed you. A little.”

“That you had some sort of impact on my racing career?”

“That I gave you motivation.”

Yunjin tilted her head as if to say, ‘Is that all?’

“That I meant something to you,” Chaewon said.

Yunjin smiled. “That you still do?”

RACE 1  •  SOUTH KOREA