Chapter Text
Arvid had been right.
Liam won the first race.
Not easily.
Not cleanly.
But beautifully.
The Skyline launched off the line like it had been waiting impatiently for permission to become violent, Liam controlling it with the kind of terrifying confidence Arvid had come to associate specifically with him. Nico stayed glued to his rear bumper for nearly the entire race, the Pagani Huayra smooth and relentless through every section of the course.
Esteban, meanwhile, absolutely butchered one of the tighter corners near the canal and overshot wide enough that Arvid physically winced watching it happen.
“Oh, that’s painful,” he muttered.
Beside him, Isack snorted.
Alex took advantage instantly.
The Porsche sliced through the final corner beautifully—tight, aggressive, clean—and stole third ahead of Esteban by less than half a car length.
The crowd around the barriers erupted.
Arvid stared after the cars as they crossed the line, pulse hammering.
Exhilarating didn’t even begin to cover it.
The sound alone was enough to drag adrenaline through his bloodstream like lightning. The engines screaming down the straight. The brakes biting into corners. The split-second decisions that changed positions instantly if someone hesitated for even half a heartbeat.
And he hadn’t even raced yet.
That was the insane part.
He already felt half drunk on it just from watching.
Liam rolled back into the staging area first, climbing out of the Skyline looking irritatingly composed for someone who had just driven like an actual maniac.
Nico parked beside him and immediately shoved at Liam’s shoulder.
“You nearly clipped me at the docks.”
“You were slow.”
“I was avoiding Esteban trying to die.”
“That sounds like a you problem.”
Esteban, climbing out of the Mansory nearby, looked ready to commit murder.
Alex looked delighted by all of it.
Arvid barely heard the rest.
Because his race was next.
His.
Actual race.
The thought struck him again suddenly and violently as Isack tossed him the Silvia’s keys.
Arvid caught them automatically.
“Oh,” he said faintly.
Isack raised an eyebrow. “That’s your reaction?”
“I think my organs are shutting down.”
“Probably temporary.”
Arvid stared at the keys in his hand.
Then at the Silvia sitting under the floodlights.
Then at the track.
Then back at the keys.
“Oh my god.”
A laugh escaped Isack under his breath.
“You’re cute when you panic.”
Arvid looked at him in horror. “This is not the time to flirt with me.”
“This is absolutely the time.”
“No, it—”
Isack grabbed the front of Arvid’s hoodie suddenly and pulled him forward.
Arvid barely had time to inhale before Isack kissed him.
Directly on the mouth.
Quick.
Warm.
Confident enough that Arvid’s entire brain immediately blue-screened.
Then Isack let go and stepped back like he hadn’t just detonated an explosive directly inside Arvid’s ribcage.
“There,” Isack said lightly. “Good luck.”
Arvid stared at him.
Speechless.
Actually speechless.
Holy fuck.
Holy fuck.
Had Isack really just—
Oh my god.
Oh Jesus Christ.
His face burned instantly.
His pulse became something catastrophic.
He was dimly aware of Isack walking away toward his own car while Arvid remained standing there like someone had unplugged him from reality entirely.
Daniel, somewhere nearby, made a deeply obnoxious sound of delight.
Yuki yelled, “FINALLY,” loud enough that several people turned.
Arvid wanted to die.
Instead he climbed mechanically into the Silvia with all the grace of a man actively having a system malfunction.
His hands shook once as he grabbed the wheel.
Not from fear.
Not entirely.
His lips still tingled.
Holy shit.
The Silvia smelled faintly like engine oil and warm leather and the peppermint gum Liam always carried for some reason, and Arvid sat there staring straight ahead while his thoughts dissolved into complete uselessness.
He and Isack—
No.
No, he physically could not think about that right now.
Not while he was about to race.
Not while his heart was already trying to launch itself directly out through his throat.
Arvid gripped the steering wheel harder and forced himself to breathe.
Focus.
Track.
Cars.
Corners.
Don’t crash the Silvia.
Very important.
Very, very important.
The lineup formed gradually around him.
Gabriel’s Audi rolled into place on one side.
Oliver’s Ferrari Roma on the other.
And ahead slightly, Isack’s RX-7 purred low and dangerous under the floodlights.
Arvid swallowed hard.
The starting line suddenly looked much narrower from inside a car.
The sounds sharpened too.
Engines idling.
Tyres scraping lightly against asphalt.
Someone shouting somewhere beyond the barriers.
The hum of anticipation hanging thick in the cold night air.
Arvid flexed his fingers once against the wheel. Then nearly screamed when a knock hit the roof above him.
He looked up sharply.
Liam leaned down against the open driver-side window, one arm resting casually across the roof of the Silvia.
The glint in his eyes immediately made Arvid nervous.
“Oh no,” Arvid said weakly.
Liam grinned slightly.
“What?”
“That look means trouble.”
“Maybe.”
Arvid stared at him suspiciously.
Liam leaned closer.
“You need a good luck kiss too?”
Arvid stopped functioning.
Entirely.
Every thought vanished instantly.
The only thing left in his brain was Liam Lawson leaning into the Silvia looking unfairly pretty under floodlights while Arvid tried not to combust alive.
“I—”
Nothing else came out.
Liam laughed softly.
God.
That was unfair.
“I think you broke him,” Gabriel called from the next car over, sounding deeply entertained.
Oliver looked delighted already.
Arvid wanted the ground to open and consume him.
Liam tilted his head slightly, studying Arvid’s rapidly deteriorating state with obvious amusement.
Then he kissed him.
Arvid honestly couldn’t tell where at first.
His cheek maybe.
Then his forehead.
Then—
Oh.
Oh.
His lips.
Brief.
Warm.
Enough to completely obliterate the last surviving fragments of Arvid’s sanity.
Liam pulled back just enough to look at him again.
Arvid stared back blankly.
Buzzing.
Actually buzzing. Like every nerve ending in his body had suddenly lit on fire.
“Good luck,” Liam murmured.
Then he patted the roof of the Silvia once and wandered away before Arvid could remember how words worked.
“What the fuck,” Arvid whispered to himself.
Beside him, Oliver was openly grinning now.
“You alright there?”
“No,” Arvid said honestly.
Gabriel laughed outright.
Further ahead, Liam reached Isack’s RX-7.
Unlike Arvid, Isack handled the attention with considerably more dignity.
Meaning he immediately grabbed Liam by the front of his shirt and kissed him hard enough that several people nearby whistled.
Arvid watched in stunned fascination.
Hands tangled briefly in hair.
Liam laughing softly against Isack’s mouth.
Isack shoving him away afterward with absolutely no real force behind it.
“Move,” Isack said. "Or I'll run you over."
“You’re clingy tonight.”
“Shut up.”
Liam looked unbearably smug as he finally stepped away from the line.
Arvid sat frozen in the Silvia, face still burning hot.
This was insane.
All of this.
The racing.
The cars.
The Circuit.
Liam and Isack apparently kissing him like they hadn’t just completely altered the structure of his internal organs.
He was going to explode.
The starter stepped forward.
Engines immediately rose in response.
Everything sharpened.
Arvid’s focus snapped back violently into place.
Right.
Race.
Important.
Very important.
His hands settled more firmly against the wheel.
The Silvia vibrated beneath him eagerly.
Beside him, Gabriel leaned forward slightly in concentration.
Oliver rolled his shoulders once.
Ahead, Isack sat low behind the wheel of the RX-7 like he belonged there more than anywhere else on earth.
Arvid inhaled sharply.
The lights blinked once.
Twice.
Then vanished.
Everything exploded forward.
The Silvia launched hard enough to shove Arvid back into the seat immediately.
Adrenaline hit him like a physical force.
Oliver reacted first.
The Ferrari shot ahead aggressively into the opening straight, taking the lead before the first turn.
Isack moved beautifully beside him.
Smooth.
Precise.
The RX-7 cut into the first corner like it had been pulled along invisible rails.
Gabriel stayed close.
Arvid—
Arvid laughed.
Actually laughed. Wild and startled and ecstatic all at once as the Silvia tore down the straight beneath him.
Holy shit.
Holy shit.
The car felt alive. Every vibration through the wheel. Every shift beneath him. Every surge of acceleration flooding through the chassis straight into his bloodstream. This—
This was what he had been chasing every time he stole customer cars out into empty streets at two in the morning.
This feeling.
The impossible sharpness of it.
The terrifying clarity.
The corner approached fast.
Arvid braked.
Turned.
Felt the Silvia settle beneath him perfectly.
And something inside him clicked into place.
Not panic.
Not nerves.
Instinct.
The next straight opened up ahead.
Isack sat just in front.
Close enough.
Arvid’s pulse roared.
The Silvia accelerated beautifully under him.
Faster.
Closer.
The RX-7 shifted slightly toward the racing line.
Arvid reacted instinctively.
Different angle.
Tighter approach.
He flew alongside Isack down the straight and heard himself let out a near shriek of pure delighted disbelief as the Silvia edged ahead by half a bumper.
“Oh my god—”
The engine screamed.
The floodlights blurred overhead.
And suddenly he was second.
Actually second.
Oliver remained just ahead, the Ferrari slicing through the next corner while Arvid fought to keep the Silvia balanced through the turn.
Behind him, Isack laughed.
The sound crackled faintly through the radio.
“There he is.”
Arvid grinned so hard his face hurt.
Gabriel stayed glued to Isack’s rear quarter panel.
Third changed hands twice over the next section of corners alone, Gabriel aggressive on entry while Isack clawed positions back on exits with brutal precision.
Arvid barely had time to watch them.
Because Oliver was right there.
So close.
The Ferrari ahead looked almost touchable as they flew down the final straight.
Arvid pushed harder.
The Silvia responded instantly.
His front bumper edged closer and closer to lining up with Oliver’s rear-view mirrors.
The finish line rushed toward them.
The crowd noise became one enormous blur.
And then—
Done.
Over.
Oliver crossed first by barely more than a heartbeat.
Arvid crossed second.
Second.
Second.
He burst into breathless laughter instantly as adrenaline crashed through him in violent waves.
Holy shit.
Holy shit.
Behind him, Isack finally fought Gabriel off through the last corner and stole third by inches.
The cars slowed gradually beyond the line.
Arvid’s hands shook hard against the wheel now.
Not fear.
Never fear.
Something brighter.
Bigger.
He had raced.
Actually raced.
And somewhere deep down beneath the adrenaline and noise and exhilaration flooding through him all at once, Arvid realised something terrifying.
There was no going back now.
Not really.
Not after this.
Not after the floodlights and engines and impossible joy of flying through corners beside people who understood exactly why it mattered.
Not after Liam and Isack.
Not after the Circuit wrapped itself around him so tightly he could barely remember what his life looked like before it.
The Silvia rolled slowly back toward the staging area.
Arvid sat behind the wheel grinning helplessly to himself while the engine ticked softly beneath him.
Alive.
He felt alive. More alive than he ever had sitting in lecture halls thinking about exam timetables and rent payments and miserable futures carefully measured out in spreadsheets and deadlines.
The Circuit was dangerous.
Messy.
Illegal.
Probably catastrophic for his long-term wellbeing.
But as Liam appeared ahead of him through the floodlights, smiling sharp and bright while Isack leaned against the RX-7 beside him—
Arvid thought, helplessly and honestly:
Yeah.
He was absolutely doomed from the get go.