Partners in Speed - ver.2 (also Street Racers #2)

bonus scene 1

Jungkook

(this, in fact, happens half a month before the beginning of Star Racer)

3rd June, late night, after a cute little birhtday party for Yeeun

There is something Yeeun has been talking a lot about recently. She keeps saying she wants to try sewing clothes, making her own clothes, but she holds back for some reason. So a week before her birthday, I used the Internet to the best of my abilities and searched for the best sewing machine out there. After fourteen (or maybe forty) YouTube videos, and obtaining the feeling of a sewing god, I ordered.

"I've got one more gift for you," I say. I have to put all the effort into saying every sentence, because she already has a different idea, and she's kissing my neck, sitting on my lap, and I'm gone. Mentally in a much better place.

"Yeah, what gift?" she asks, busy opening my belt.

"This later," I say, but I'm sliding my hands under her shirt.

"Later? I've been waiting for them to leave for hours." Our guests – Taehyung, Wooshik, Hoseok – barely closed the door and she was all over me. Which I have no complaints about, except that I still have the gift.

"Not much later. I promise. Just... one second, okay?"

With a sigh, she moves back. "Okay. One second. Now, it passed. Let's-"

"Okay, give me five minutes then."

Yeeun whines, flopping onto the couch. "Okay, hurry up."

She's no longer in a hurry when I carry the biggest gift so far into the room. With a blue bow glued on top of the box.

"What the hell is that?"

"Open," I say, leaving it on the coffee table, and sit next to it.

Yeeun kneels in front of the table. Tearing the paper, she gets inside the bigger box and opens it to reveal the smaller one. Seeing what's inside, she huffs a laugh.

"I guess I have no excuses left," she says, carefully taking it out.

"Just try," I say. "It's not like you have to continue. But you talk about it constantly. And I have a good feeling about it."

"Good feeling?"

"That you're gonna like it."

She moves the empty boxes to the ground and takes all the foil off of it.

"It's the best one on the market," I say.

"I really want to try. I was scared."

"Of what?"

"It's new. I don't like... making life-changing decisions. I'm glad you've made that one." She looks up at me, smiling, and leans her arm on my thigh. "I already know how to use it, you know? I mean, I watched many, many videos. And read many blog posts about it. And I know what I'm gonna make. It's gonna be a skirt, like this," she says, drawing it on my leg. "With three layers. It's gonna be pink. And I'll make a blouse for it. I have it all planned out."

"What about the shoes?"

"I found a pair. I need to buy them. They look like they're made out of glass. And it looks like there are cartoonish strawberries in the platform."

"And a bag?"

Her smile widens. She shakes her head, saying, "You're a strange... strange man."

"Why?" I huff a laugh, too. Somehow it sounds like a really good thing in this context.

"You're asking about shoes and a bag for my outfit. And you seem actually interested in all of this. My dad would always pretend to listen. You listen."

"Because you're saying it. I listen, because I want to know what you have to say."

"Will you stop listening one day? Get bored?"

I shake my head.

"I love you," she says. Then glances at the sewing machine and puts it perfectly in the middle of the coffee table. "And thank you for this. It's my favorite gift this year."

I thread my fingers through her hair before leaning in for a kiss.

She grabs my arm. "I'd use it right now, but I don't have any material, and five minutes have passed."

"Birthday sex is such a cliché," I say it, but I'm up on my feet and her legs are around my waist and I'm on my way to the bedroom.

"You say it after you stared at me the whole night and made me all horny."

"Because you are beautiful," I say, letting her down on the bed. "I couldn't help but watch you all night long." I crash my lips onto hers, working the buttons on the front of her shirt open.

"It's my birthday," she says, when I let go of her lips and kiss her neck.

"Mhm."

"And I don't wanna do any work tonight."

"Okay," I say. I like it the other way round, I like it when she does whatever she wants with me, and usually she likes it that way, too. On special occasions, we switch that up. "Whatever you want. I'll do everything."

"And when I start making clothes, you'll watch me model them?"

"Every single piece and outfit."

"That's what I like to hear."

🏁

Six months later, there are two clothing racks in our living room. Sometimes they move to the bedroom. Full clothing racks, of more or less successful projects that came from Yeeun. Pieces that don't fit on the racks anymore lay everywhere else. There are days – and nights – I can't tear her away from the sewing machine. Or a notebook, where she plans the next outfits she'll make. I tried once. Now I just let her do her thing. Sometimes I stay with her, watching how she gets absolutely lost in it.

I knew we'd come to this. My whole life has been all about her, I can tell what she'd like.