Monomania

“Why do you do this?”

That question always bothered you.

Maybe it’s that millisecond of stillness that pushes more adrenaline through your nerves, all of the happiness and anger and exuberance and despair and her and the volleys of neurons firing in your head so much more faster than you can comprehend—all cut short as your clutch re-engages, the roar of six hundred horsepower demanding your attention once again.

Pulling you back to reality as your machine pushes forward to its absolute limit. That last remaining RPM revving back down into the thousands, air and fuel merging, pistons hammering down at each concoction of it, the engine gasping for air as it returns to growling, the turbo pitching and whining at your command of returning to its apex.

You almost reach two hundred kilometers an hour. Wrenching you back in its grasp again.

“I don’t know.”

Because you didn’t. Not after your first race, your first win, first loss, first crash. Not when the mechanics maintaining your car were asking you about it. Not the others who stopped you at the gas stations. You always said the same three words.

Not until her. Until Jieun asked you that question.

You swerve, and the familiar feeling of being off balance shakes you once again.

She was never one to ask you of anything. Other than the simple things.

“Pick me up?”

“Make sure not to forget the eggs, please?”

“Come back safe, alright?”

“For the love of god, please stop racing!”

You can still remember the tears falling down when she asked you of that. Abandoning the one thing that you’re good at. That you’re great at. That everyone was so terrified to go up against you for.

Jieun knew how much it meant of you. And yet she still demanded it of you. A tall ask, given how much you’ve spent your life doing this.

You take a right, slowing down and letting yourself breathe again.

You brushed it off at first, thought she was simply overreacting at what happened. Close calls always happened every night you went out. She understood that, and you’ve suffered through all of it.

Bumps, crashes, accidents—you’ve seen it, lived it, patched yourself up each and every time after it. Everyone knew the risks, but she’s the only one that cared enough to tell you to stop.

You brake. Your machine dims back to one hundred kilometers an hour. And again.

“Okay.”

Perhaps that was the reason you said yes. To choose her, choose Jieun. Exchanging the thrill of watching all those beautiful machines sing at midnight for a chance of normalcy. A chance of having a peaceful life with Jieun instead of a life spent looking behind your back half the time.

And it was refreshing. Your whole world flipped upside down. The transition was rough, but Jieun made it easy.

She always did.

Go up to fifth gear. Again, letting your machine howl in the dark streets. A ghost of her laugh follows.

You stuck close to them though, even after walking away. Found a job at a car wash. Then the gas station some of your competitors frequented. Eventually got to be under one of mechanics you used to have your car maintained.

You get a few raised eyebrows when people spot you, but they don’t speak up.

Nobody ever does when it comes to you, except for Jieun.

She was a little disappointed, watching you come back to your roots, at least a little bit. Told you that you were—

“–Getting too close.”

But Jieun lets it be. She knows that she can’t make you fully ever leave that world. Tries to see the positives of it instead.

“Better you fixing them than racing them, right?”

“I guess, yeah.”

You slide through the corner, and you can hear her telling you to relax instead of the tires skidding again.

Things were looking up, for a little while. One of the older tuners took you under his wing, taught you everything you know about making a car the fastest it can be without breaking apart. Told you to trust the machine as it will you.

“It’s your partner, not a tool, got it?”

And you got good at it. Great at it. Enough to get you to pay the bills enough for the both of you. Enough to make everyone terrified of how scary you built each car you touched.

She was happy too. At least, you thought she was. You can always see the hint of sadness in her eyes when she thinks you’re not looking hard enough.

You always focused on her more than anything else in the world.

That only made what happened all the more painful.

The bright lights almost blind you going at two hundred. You can almost see her face again.

It broke you, when you saw her name on the news.

Jieun said she’d only be gone for the weekend.

“Sure you don’t wanna come with?”

“I don’t think your dad likes me.”

“Didn’t take you for a pussy.”

“Hey–”

Now you’ll never be able to hold her again. Never be able to kiss her, wake up next to her, tell her that you love her.

You didn’t know what to do, the first week after you found out. You couldn’t touch any of her things without breaking down, and your home turned into a prison of memories that only served to give you pain.

So you turned to the one thing that can hold you together.