AU: Cyberpunk | Street Racing | Tension-filled allies | Quiet intimacy beneath neon chaos
Pairing: K x Jo
Vibe: Electric tension, chrome dust, neon heat, and one hell of a close-call win

🏁 Setting:

The city is split into two halves:
Aboveground—regulated, cold, all surveillance.
Belowground—where the real engines growl, and the streets burn with neon tires and unlicensed freedom.

K runs Gridshift, an underground racing circuit. He doesn't race anymore—just organizes. Controls the gates. Keeps the blood off the chrome.

Jo?
Jo races.
Fast. Clean. Dangerous like static just before lightning.
He's the wildcard. No team. No crew. Just him and the machine.

And K?

He's watching him more than he should.

🌆 Scene: After Midnight, Before Regret

Jo just won. Again.

K waits near the exit ramp, visor pushed up, long coat brushing the ground.

Jo walks past him—sweat-drenched, jaw set, eyes gleaming under the glow of a broken LED sign.

"That corner on 6th almost ate you," K says, dry.

"So did the guy behind me," Jo replies.

K tosses him a water bottle.

Jo catches it one-handed, drinks without looking away.

"You gonna keep watching me like that?" Jo asks.

K tilts his head.

"You keep almost dying. I keep watching."

"That's not why."

"No?"

Jo steps closer.

The alley's quiet. Hum of low-grade hoverboards in the distance. Blue light casting sharp shadows on Jo's cheekbones.

"You only talk to me after I win."

"You only listen when you're breathing hard."

K says it without flinching.

Jo smirks. But it's not cocky—it's close.

"Then maybe I should keep winning."

"Maybe I'm waiting for you to crash."

Silence. Sharp. Almost flirting. Almost threatening.

Then Jo steps even closer. Leans in just enough for his breath to hit K's jaw.

"What happens if I crash into you?"

K doesn't move.

"Then we both burn."

🚦Scene Cut: The Tension Snap

K turns away first.

Jo lets him.

But just as K's about to fade back into the crowd, Jo grabs his wrist.

Just enough pressure to stop him. Not enough to hold.

K looks over his shoulder.

Jo says nothing. Just stares.

K leans in close enough to whisper.

"Next race. You win again?
I'll let you find out what happens when I don't look away."

Jo lets go.
Smirks.
And walks off.

Helmet under one arm. Heat in his veins.

K doesn't watch him leave.

He watches everyone else look at him—
and already knows Jo won't be crashing for anyone else.

🌁 Scene: The Crash

Jo didn't actually crash.

But it felt like he did.

His bike clipped the edge of a water-slicked barrel on the back straight and lost momentum—just enough for someone to pass him at the last second. Just enough to lose by less than half a second.

The crowd roared.

Jo didn't hear it.

He ripped his helmet off, stormed through the alley behind the circuit, ignoring the offers of water, praise, pity.

He wanted to hit something.

Or someone.

Or both.

K's car was parked where it always was—clean, matte-black, old enough to not get traced, and quiet.

Jo yanked the passenger side open and dropped into the seat, breathing hard, hair stuck to his forehead.

K looked at him once. Briefly.

"Didn't expect you to lose."

"Don't rub it in."

"Didn't say it was bad. Just rare."

Jo clenched his jaw.

K flicked on the ignition. The engine hummed low, like it was keeping a secret.

"You're not mad at the guy who passed you," K added.

"No?"

"You're mad at yourself. You let the edge blur. You got in your head."

Jo didn't answer. Just stared out the window like it had done something wrong.

💥 The Snap

"You said if I won again, you'd stop looking away."

K was quiet for a moment.

"Yeah."

"So what happens now that I lost?"

K pulled the car out of the alley, slow.

"You sit in my passenger seat with that look in your eyes and act like I didn't mean what I said."

Jo turned sharply.

"You still watching me now?"

K glanced sideways.

"I never stopped."

Jo's breath hitched—barely.

He reached forward and turned the radio off.

Silence filled the space between them, louder than any engine.

🛣 Scene: The Shift

They didn't talk for the next ten minutes.

Just the city rolling past, neon flashing across Jo's face like static. K drove like he was trying not to push too far—for once.

Jo's hand rested on the edge of the seat.
Close to K's, but not touching.

Until they hit a red light.
Until the engine purred.
Until the quiet broke him.

"I shouldn't be this pissed off," Jo muttered.

"Losing does that."

"No, I mean—" He stopped himself.

K waited.

Jo didn't look at him when he said it:

"I was thinking about you. On the last lap. That's why I lost."

K turned his head. Slowly.

Jo still wouldn't look at him.

K reached out—softly, deliberately—and touched Jo's hand. Just briefly.

"Then I guess I win either way."

Jo finally looked at him.

Not angry.

Just wide-eyed and too still.

And K?

K smiled—small. Real.

"Want to see what happens when I don't look away?"

Jo didn't answer.

He didn't need to.

The light turned green.

K didn't drive away just yet.

Jo: "If you keep doing that, I'm going to forget how to race."

K: "Good. You might finally slow down long enough to let someone catch you."

🔙 FLASHBACK: Why K Stopped Racing

It wasn't a crash.

It was a choice.

K was 19. Fast. Flawless. Called the "Ghost Shift" on the circuit—no one ever saw him coming. No one ever heard him leave.

He wasn't the best because he took risks.
He was the best because he didn't need to.

Until that one race.

Midnight heat. Thunder in the air.
A new racer on the scene—loud, angry, desperate to win.
He challenged K directly.

K didn't back down.

The race was brutal.
Tight corners. Wet streets.
The other racer clipped a turn too hard—and lost control.

They didn't walk away.

K won.

But when he pulled over and looked in the rearview—

The other bike was burning.

He stood there for twenty minutes, watching the flames.

And then he walked away from racing.

"I wasn't afraid of speed," K would say later. "I was afraid I'd never stop in time to save someone."

Now he runs the circuit. Keeps the rules. Watches Jo like a storm he can't bottle.

🏁 SCENE: Jo Wins—But Slows

The race is electric. Jo's in his element—sharp turns, quiet breath, engine humming like it's synced to his pulse.

K's watching from the command tower, hands in pockets, jaw clenched.

He told Jo everything last week.

No drama. Just the truth.

"If I ever race again, it'll be with you beside me or not at all."

And Jo?

Jo didn't say anything.

Just nodded.

So now, watching Jo tear through the grid—K's not scared for him.

He's scared for himself.

Because he wants it again.

Final lap.

Jo's in front.

No one close.

Then—a slow. Just enough.
Not dramatic. Just intentional.

The crowd notices.

The announcer chokes.

"Jo... easing off? What's he—?"

K sees it.

Jo slows right before the finish line.
Looks toward the tower.

And crosses.

Still first.

But barely.

🛠️ After the Race

Jo finds K outside. Helmet under one arm. Sweat down his neck. Smirking.

"Told you I'd win."

"You slowed down."

"You were watching."

K looks at him.

Jo steps closer.

"You ever think maybe I don't care about trophies?"

"Then why do you race?"

Jo leans in.

"Because I want you to start again. With me."

K doesn't answer.

But he doesn't walk away either.

🏁 Last Line:

K: "One race. Side by side."

Jo: "Already warmed up."