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Adrenaline rushed through Jaemin's veins, the car drifting around the bend as he swiftly changed the gear. He had just passed the timing line, beginning his 78th lap, and his knuckles were white from the grip he had on the steering wheel. The wind blowing past his helmet battled the roar of the engine, beating against his eardrums. It contrasted the gentle Mediterranean breeze he had gotten used to in the quiet days he spent wandering the streets of Monaco.
Jaemin took it upon himself to learn a few phrases in French, practicing them with the cafe owners and shopkeepers he met on his ventures. It kept his mind off the upcoming race that filled him with an awry mix of trepidation and thrill. Even as he drove past Port Hercule, the taste of victory on the tip of his tongue, his heart raced erratically and his jaw was clenched from the tension.
He passed the finish line in a blur, hearing his team congratulating him through his headset and faint cheering from the crowd that swarmed on the sides of the track.
“He's done it! Na Jaemin's first win of the season!” The commentator's voice boomed through the speakers.
Amidst the feeling of relief lingered a sense of unrest, clawing at his insides, tearing down the pride that had swelled in him as he won the race. It picked at him slowly, doubt growing in the hollow.
He knew that many envied his lifestyle; fame, money, success. Despite the crowd that watched him intently and the fans that screamed his name, he didn't know if he could truly claim that he was leading a successful life. Sure, he won the Grand Prix but is success measured only by what can be seen on the exterior?
Jaemin held the trophy in his hand, a smile plastered on his face as he gave his podium speech, thanking his team and his fans generously for their support. The post-race interviews and media appearances passed by in a flurry and Jaemin became far too wary of the thoughts that clung to his mind.
Racing was what made him feel alive, or rather, what used to make him feel alive. The rush of blood through his body as the excitable tension became palpable, the dizzying feeling of victory at the finish line, sweat dripping down as the cool breeze brushed past after taking off his helmet.
None of that seemed to matter lately for another, more potent, feeling clouding his mind. He had noticed a magazine in the lobby of his hotel when he had arrived, a young man splayed on the front cover. Sharp eyes, tan skin, long legs clad in flared leather pants. The playful Miu Miu logo was written in white, tucked into the corner.
Vivid memories resurfaced, the fingers poised elegantly on the page that used to intertwine with Jaemin's, the eyes that used to soften when they met with Jaemin’s, the legs that wrapped around Jaemin's waist. The honeyish voice that cried his name, the warmth that encapsulated him and the deep scent of vanilla musk that Jaemin found buried in the crook of his neck. It was beautiful, passionate, yet painfully volatile, dissipating quietly, slipping out of Jaemin's grasp. Sand slipping through the hourglass.
The hands that once held his eventually let go, the eyes that held so much admiration became distant, icy. The voice that cradled Jaemin through lonely nights was the same as the one that inevitably undid him. Jaemin tried to convince himself that some things aren't made to last but it was a difficult pill to swallow, one that clawed in his throat and gripped to his thoughts. He learnt that love isn't easy, that it eats away at you slowly, an inescapable parasite. Trust is a double-edged sword, letting you love and be loved to the fullest extent but also cutting you deeper when you make the wrong move.
Yet still, despite it all, he let himself indulge in sweet thoughts of his ex-lover, Donghyuck. He saw Donghyuck in everything he encountered, equal parts loving and bitter, a cocktail of yearning and spite. The second mug in his apartment left untouched, the sachets of caramel macchiato, far too sweet for Jaemin to stomach so early in the morning and a pair of slippers by the front door, embellished with a cartoon bear print.
He ought to hate Donghyuck, to loathe him for stranding him yet he longed for him even in the most beautiful nights, even when he thought the champagne in his glass could dull the feelings he kept locked in his heart.
Jaemin finally made it past the media appearances and was welcomed by the comforting scent of freshly washed towels as he stepped into his hotel bathroom for a much needed shower. The water was far too hot for a humid summer evening, swirling into thick steam. It felt refreshing, washing away the muscle aches that had built up when he was crammed in the car.
He let out an almost lewd groan, an involuntary response to the relief he felt as he massaged shampoo into his scalp. The gentle strawberry fragrance filled the air and again his mind relapsed to Donghyuck. Saccharine sweet, cloying, yet Jaemin craved it deeply. Craved him deeply. He imagined that the fingers in his hair were Donghyuck’s, that the warmth of the room was from Donghyuck's embrace. He closed his eyes, envisioning Donghyuck lovingly massaging body wash onto him, undoing the knots of tension that had built up, kissing him gently as he did so.
Deep down Jaemin knew it was ridiculous, running his hands over his body, alone in the shower with dirty fantasies plaguing his mind. In his fantasy, Donghyuck kneeled before him. Jaemin threw his head back in pleasure.
☆
Donghyuck's name became a ritual that Jaemin repeated in the quiet of dusk. A thorny rose, beautiful, stinging.
He spent the quiet evening on his balcony, watching the cars drive past and the post-race buzz fill the air before anxiously checking social media, seeing how fans felt about his performance today.
The warm spring breeze felt comforting and Jaemin didn't feel tired enough to sleep so he remained in the balcony, wind tousling his hair and the roads getting quieter as the clock creeped further past midnight. As the night time air carried a small chill, Jaemin stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets. He furrowed his eyebrows at the feeling of a small carton that his fingers grazed past. He took it out and flicked open the cap, a familiar action that had become muscle memory for him.
Donghyuck used to smoke, cigarette breaks in between modelling gigs; whilst laying on the couch in his cramped apartment; in the balconies of the hotels where they made love. Jaemin didn't think he would miss it, not until he found himself purchasing a pack of cigarettes the day after Donghyuck left.
He had lit it up with a plasticky lighter he had bought from the same corner shop, putting the cigarette to his lips. A sharp inhale followed by a wheezy exhale and painfully harsh coughing. Jaemin thought the intoxicating scent would suffocate him like Donghyuck did so effortlessly with needy kisses. He thought the burn in his lungs could replace Donghyuck's burning touch, lighting a fire within his core and tingling, scalding every inch of skin that made contact with his.
Jaemin had tried again and again, clearing almost the full pack that night, heartbroken in a dimly lit street in Milan. He hated admitting to the guilt that twisted like a dagger in heart as he watched Donghyuck sashaying down the runway. His tear-stricken face from the night before covered by a mask of confidence and glamour, hiding behind a layer of the shimmery makeup. Beautiful even through the ruins that Jaemin created. So, so beautiful that it hurt Jaemin, that he turned on his heel and left the venue, that he forced down the lump that formed in his throat.
Jaemin toyed with a cigarette he plucked from the pack, spinning it around his fingers as one would do with a pen. Such a small, insignificant item shouldn't evoke such large, suffocating emotions in Jaemin. It angered him how easily he let heartbreak cling onto his mind, settling deep into the crevices that formed as his heart cracked under the pressure of grief. Grieving over someone still alive, someone he pushed away. And somehow, even though the whole situation was in his diction, he was left to crumble beneath the weight of his actions whilst he watched Donghyuck conquer the very shipwreck he created. All whilst Jaemin struggled to stay afloat. Maybe it's just bad karma.
It was sunrise, the melodious bird songs filling the crisp morning air as sun rays painted the sky in soft oranges and pinks. The sunrise felt welcoming, familiar, a constant in all the cities he visited, though a cigarette was in his hand in place of a morning coffee and a sleepless night lay behind him.
The clocktower across the street displayed the time 6:06, seemingly ordinary but twisted the knife of guilt deeper into Jaemin.
☆
Donghyuck’s head rested on Jaemin's chest as he stroked his hair gently. His breath felt warm and his fingers were curled into Jaemin's shirt. He smelt faintly of strawberry, courtesy of the perfume he swiped on one of the days he was in the office.
The morning had just crept in and Jaemin had training to attend in less than an hour but neither of them were willing to move out of their comfortable positions.
“So you're just not going to go?” Donghyuck questioned, peeking up at Jaemin. It was difficult to not find Donghyuck attractive, caramel skin and long eyelashes that made him so much more cute.
“I really can't be asked. And anyways, it's criminal to have practice at 7 in the morning, that must break at least a few labour laws,” Jaemin chuckled, his thumb tracing swirling patterns onto Donghyuck's waist which his arm was wrapped around.
“I mean, you still have some time to get ready, right?”
Donghyuck reached over for his phone, the phone screen lighting up and displaying the time. “Oh, nevermind, it's 6:06 already, Donghyuck o’clock.”
“Donghyuck o’clock?” Jaemin chuckled, “What does that even mean? Is this, like, designated cuddle time?”
“No… I mean, if you want it to be, then sure, but what I meant is that 6:06 is like my birthday, 6th of June, but in time format if that makes sense. So it's Donghyuck o'clock”
“So is Jaemin o’clock at 8:13 then?”
“Yeah,” Donghyuck replied, nuzzling his face into Jaemin's chest once more, letting out a soft sigh, “Let's stay like this at least until Jaemin o’clock then.”
Jaemin nodded, inhaling the strawberry scent of Donghyuck's hair and holding him a little tighter, grasping onto the little time they had left together until life swept them up again. Until Donghyuck got sick of waiting for Jaemin to love him more than he loved the world he lived in - his cars, his work. Until all the sand slipped through the hourglass (where Donghyuck has nothing left to give).
☆
Jaemin knew he was wrong, that he hurt Donghyuck, that he felt so much yet gave so little. He backed away when things got too serious and he was afraid of commitment. He faced the repercussions now, with broken memories in his hands in the form of a cigarette instead of Donghyuck who would have caressed him gently and wiped away the tears that formed as he choked back a sob.
It was pathetic. After he crumbled the relationship Donghyuck worked so hard to build, he was the one left in the midst of the ruins. Inevitably, the destroyer becomes part of the destruction, tied to the messy landscape they painted.
Jaemin hated the tightness in his chest as he gripped the handrail, as he cried like it was his heart that got crushed. Perhaps he crushed his own heart. Grieving, hoping, yearning for something that he once held in his hand but never gripped tightly enough.
The sky had taken on a bright shade of blue; peaceful and cloudless, tainting Jaemin as he broke down. He craved Donghyuck's gentle touch and honeyed words, but one can't expect anything if all they do is want and give nothing in return. The birds sung their songs, and life began to fill the streets once more. Slowly, slowly, as mornings usually pass by, the city carried the crisp breeze, swaying Jaemin further.
In the cold contemplation, Jaemin's heart felt drawn towards Paris. He could take a train, his manager wouldn't even notice until he was on his way. He could leave everything he's built for himself. Right the wrongs and undo the damage he caused.
Jaemin would kiss Donghyuck, carefully, tenderly at first before pressing him against the door of his dressing room, indulging in the heat of the moment. He would smudge the perfectly applied lipgloss, taste it in his mouth and undo the rigorous hair styling, tangling his fingers in between the hair-sprayed locks. Donghyuck would moan softly, the sound trapped between the heat of their bodies. He would whisper to Jaemin, tell him that he needs to go, that his stylist is waiting for him but would inevitably submit to the desperation of Jaemin's hands feeling him through his satin shirt.
The thought alone was enough for Jaemin to pack his duffel bag quickly and leave before he could be stopped, before his world became too loud to ignore. Light rain drizzled down as he arrived at the train station, a bittersweet parting with Monaco, a country that became his second home due to the countless motorsporting events hosted there.
Maybe his recklessness could blow his chances of racing professionally ever again but Jaemin couldn't find it in his heart to be upset. He loved racing - the thrill of a speeding car and the tension from the tight competition was incomparable to anything else. Despite it all, his heart lay in the hands of a man with a charming smile and suddenly there was nothing else Jaemin wanted more.