Chapter Text
The engine revved up, roaring wildly the moment Nunew hit the clutch.
Shit.
The cloudless, quiet night suddenly turned to panic in his chest. He looked around the abandoned road, void of humans or vehicles. It was just him and his speeding thoughts. He pressed the clutch a few more times —nothing.
He looked down at his dashboard, sweating inside his helmet. The speedometer showed he was going 133 km/h, with no sign of increasing or decreasing.
Fuck.
He was primarily thankful the highway was clear enough for him to be speeding, but his clutch was clearly not working. And if a vehicle came, he didn’t know how safely he could pass it. He reached for his brakes, right as a screeching sound tore through the road.
“You’ve got to be KIDDING me!” he hissed under his helmet.
His wheels were locking up. The friction between the road and his tires echoed through the empty night, the high-pitched screech making his ears go numb. Nunew tried his best to keep calm, but the moment he looked down at the speedometer, he lost it.
The speed was slowly increasing. And to his utter nightmare, he was approaching a turn.
In a haze, he pressed the brakes.
To no one’s surprise, the sudden braking only made it worse. His wheels started skidding. If he tried to take the corner now, not only would his Ducati skid and flip, it would easily take him down with it.
With no better option in sight, he could only think of a few ways to save himself. Because there was no way he could save both himself and the Ducati anymore.
- He either had to jump; which, at this speed, would almost certainly cause serious physical damage.
OR
2. He had to carefully slide away as he approached the corner.
Given the circumstances, the most plausible action seemed to be option B. It gave him at least a little room to prepare, to mentally gear up to let go of his precious baby.
He took a deep breath. His gloves tightened on the handles one last time, feeling the subtle tremble of the machine beneath him. Nunew looked down at the shimmering red coat of his Ducati,
“Trust me baby, I promise I’ll save you,” he patted the bike hood with one hand.
“Alright,” he muttered, heart pounding, “Easy…come on, Nu…”
The curve was coming fast.
He shifted his weight slightly, leaning with caution rather than speed. His knees hovered close to the asphalt. He eased off the handlebars bit by bit, letting the bike begin its own descent.
The slide began slowly. First, the back wheel lost its grip, then the front. The moment he felt the resistance go slack, he pushed his body away from the machine. The world spinning around him as he rolled away and watched sparks fly in his peripheral vision.
His Ducati screeched as it slid across the pavement, spinning violently into the curve, metal and carbon scraping, crashing through gravel like a wounded animal.
Nunew hit the ground hard, rolling over and over, his helmet cracking against the rock hard pavement from impact. Pain shot through his side, but adrenaline muted it. He kept his limbs tucked, bracing as the momentum dragged him a few more meters before finally he came to a stop.
He lay there, eyes blinking up at the black sky, chest heaving.
He could hear the distant beeping from his bike and the lights flashing violently across the sky. He was amazed the bike had even survived such a brutal drop, it was already enough that it wasn’t crushed into pieces.
Finally, getting claustrophobic he pulled off his helmet with shaky hands, gasping for the cool air. His hair was damp with sweat. Eyes wide. Breath uneven.
“Holy shit…”
He reached for his gloves, taking them off one by one and checked his head to see for any bleeding. Thankfully spotting none, he tried to get up when his head spun.
“Please don’t tell me I have a concussion…” he groaned, annoyed.
He waited a few seconds to regain his stability and tried once again to stand. With a lot of effort, he did. It looked like he had some minor injuries and scratches on his leg, but nothing too serious. He was thankful for wearing protective gear, otherwise, he didn’t know what would’ve happened to him.
He slightly limped his way across the road to his bike and examined the damage.
Nunew shrugged. “Well, looks repairable enough to me.”
Then he proceeded to gently raise the bike to a standing position, leaning it against his body to keep it steady. After gaining a balanced posture, he reached for his jacket’s back pocket and took out his phone.
2:30 AM.
Nunew groaned internally as he opened the Uber app and saw there were next to none in his area —the closest would arrive in three hours.
“Well, no shit , Sherlock. Who decided to ‘enjoy a ride’ outside the city, you idiot,” he cursed at himself.
He looked around the deserted area: no houses, no buildings, no market, nothing in sight. As a last resort, he picked up his phone again and dialed a number he wished he didn’t have to use often.
Someone picked up on the second ring.
Nunew cleared his throat before speaking. “Hey, Mira.”
“Nunew? Why are you calling this late?” Mira answered on the other side.
“Haha…” Nunew let out a dire laugh. “So… I kinda got into an accident. Fancy sending some help your little brother’s way?”
“What?! Are you okay? How did it happen? Where are you?” Mira’s voice was laced with concern.
“Woah, woah,” Nunew gasped, “calm down. I’m fine. I don’t even know how it happened—my clutch suddenly failed and one thing led to another and…Ducati crashed–”
He heard Mira gasp on the other end.
“But! I managed to get away unharmed…well, mostly. I’ve got a few cuts but nothing major.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” Mira sighed in relief.
“But… I don’t think I can send help right now. I’m not home. Why don’t you call Dad?” she suggested.
“And risk getting scolded? Fuck no! Plus, he’s not even in the country, remember?” Nunew replied.
He sighed. “Alright, never mind. I’ll see what I can do. Maybe I’ll just spend the night on the road.”
“Where the fuck even are you, Nu?” Mira asked, a little bit annoyed.
“Um… on a random highway, miles away from the main city…” Nunew sounded guilty as he spoke.
Mira snorted. “You’re joking, right? I’ll see what I can do from my end. Try searching Maps or something, maybe there’s a hotel or inn, or at least something nearby where you can crash.”
Nunew nodded from his end, ending the call on a grim note. He opened Maps and checked his location. It was mostly just highway and barren land, until something caught his eye: a mechanic repair logo a few kilometers away.
“Wow, my luck is great ,” Nunew smiled —before immediately remembering his situation.
“…Never mind.”
But with nothing else to do and nowhere else to go, he started his treacherous journey toward this random, unknown repair shop.
About an hour later, Nunew finally spotted the repair shop on the horizon and instantly paused.
It wasn’t what he expected.
The place looked nothing like the run-down, grease-stained little shops he’d imagined. Instead, the building was sleek, modern, and surprisingly well-lit even at this ungodly hour. Smooth glass panels, clean neon signage, and what looked like top-tier tech and branded equipment visible from the large windows. The name of the shop, glowing in bold letters above the entrance, made him blink a few times just to be sure.
Lube & Screws.
Nunew stared at it.
“…Seriously?”
He tilted his head, trying to convince himself it had to be an inside joke, or a poorly translated brand name. Regardless, he couldn’t help muttering,
“That is definitely a weird-ass name for a high-end place…”
He looked up, spotting a security camera just above the entrance. He waved a little, then tried speaking more directly.
“Hey, uh, I need help. Like... bike-crash, stranded-on-the-highway kind of help.”
He waited. No response.
Nunew sighed and looked back at his Ducati, which he had painstakingly brought along this whole way. Inch by inch, holding the handles and guiding its injured frame across the pavement.
“If I wasn’t dragging you , I’d have been here in twenty minutes, tops,” he mumbled, scowling fondly at the bike.
Giving up, he slumped down against the glass door, feeling the chill of the surface against his back. His Ducati leaned against the wall nearby, both of them looking more defeated than proud.
Then a few minutes later, click .
A soft noise echoed from inside the shop.
Nunew’s head jerked up.
The interior lights flickered on automatically, illuminating the sleek lobby within. He scrambled to his feet as a figure began approaching from the back, the shadows sharpening into detail as they neared.
Nunew blinked. Once. Twice.
The man walking toward him was... not what he expected. Loose night robe. Bare collarbone. Tousled hair. And those square-framed glasses? They did things. The guy looked like he walked out of a very expensive drama series, not a garage.
The glass doors slid open with a soft mechanical hum, and the man raised an eyebrow, voice smooth and curious.
“How may I help you?”
Nunew, who had been totally very subtly staring, almost forgot how words worked.