Keep Going Crazy Chapter 25

“Back then I—huh? What?”

“I’m curious about something.”

“Oh, okay. What is it?”

“A friend of mine got hurt.”

“…What? You have friends? Friends I don’t know about? Who? Other than Jamie?”

“…?”

Aiden slowly turned his head to look at John. John, who had been holding the cold towel, flinched and averted his gaze.

“…Um. So?”

Aiden turned his head back.

“On his arm…”

Aiden suddenly stopped talking there. John kept urging him with “What? What’s on his arm?” but his mouth simply wouldn’t open.

“Ha.”

“Why? What? Did he break his arm or something?!”

In the end, John shrieked. Aiden shoved John away as if to say what kind of nonsense was that. Then he curled the corners of his mouth into a twisted smile.

He’d never had sex. He’d never wanted to either. But just because he’d never slept with anyone didn’t mean he lacked basic knowledge. When waves of heat sometimes swept over him, he’d masturbate. He’d never experienced it, but that didn’t mean he was stupid.

A man like Ryeoun wouldn’t go around with handprints like that on him. He wasn’t just anyone—he was a Formula One driver. That meant he trained his physique and built muscle every single day. He couldn’t possibly not know how to use his strength. If Ryeoun wanted to, he could grip the steering wheel very gently, or very firmly.

The moment he realized that… Aiden felt his mood sink for some strange reason. He couldn’t figure out why, but his chest felt tight.

‘Quite flashy taste you’ve got there.’

Thinking that, Aiden tried hard to criticize Ryeoun’s rough bedroom preferences somehow. But even so, his constricted chest wouldn’t ease up at all.

“You’re not actually breaking someone’s wrist or anything, are you…? Huh? Tell me no. If we get sued in this situation, it’s going to be a real pain. Okay?”

“Not at all. Don’t have weird imaginations.”

“…Really?”

“Yeah.”

Saying that, Aiden briefly entertained the thought of ‘what if Ryeoun’s wrist broke?’ For some reason, it seemed to make him feel a little better, but he quickly dismissed the thought.

He was the one who had to grip the steering wheel and score points. If his wrist got broken like that, it would be a very serious problem.

Pressing an ice pack against his heated forehead, Aiden let out a long breath.

His stomach still didn’t feel good.

∞ ∞ ∞

Before heading out to the media zone, Ryeoun checked his uniform once more. The clothes he’d changed into for the media interview happened to be short-sleeved. Since this uniform was designated as the interview outfit, he couldn’t complain about it either.

‘Tch.’

Ryeoun clicked his tongue inwardly. The bruise remaining on his left wrist was bothering him. He should have beaten that bastard up… By the time Ryeoun discovered the bruise on his body, the man he’d spent the night with had already fled like a coward.

His manners weren’t great either, and he wasn’t really Ryeoun’s type. Perhaps because he saw a handsome face (like Aiden Seunghyun Carter’s) every single day, his standards had gotten a bit higher.

He’d tried to cover it with a watch, but the watch band happened to be rather thin. No one would pay that much attention to his wrist… But still, there was that nagging feeling.

‘He seemed to have noticed.’

Ryeoun faintly recalled Aiden’s face as he’d looked at his wrist with a subtle expression. At that moment, he’d nearly blurted out some stupid excuse.

I didn’t want this, it’s a mark that bastard left on me unilaterally, I didn’t even want to do it but I had no choice because of the superstition…

All those excuses would have been utterly useless and meaningless to lay out in front of Aiden. He wouldn’t be interested anyway. He’d probably just inwardly sneer at him again for being promiscuous.

Anyway, Ryeoun had succeeded in acting as nonchalant as possible and distancing himself from the guy. But now that he was in front of the cameras, he felt uncomfortable again.

‘What am I supposed to do about this.’

You never know. Someone might zoom in on his wrist during the interview. In preparation for such things, Ryeoun had always hoped that no marks would be left on his body. So he’d been careful, so careful. Until yesterday, no one had ever left even a hickey on him.

‘Is the energy of Asian soil just not great?’

Now he was even thinking that. Why was it that among the partners he met in this region, there wasn’t a single normal one?

His roots were Korean, so he couldn’t possibly dislike Asia. But two years ago, he’d met a truly unpleasant partner. It wasn’t that the sex was bad or anything like that. The Korean man he’d met by chance at the Suzuka Grand Prix had naturally taken the spot beside Ryeoun. He’d come to Japan to study abroad? Something like that.

Anyway, until early last year, Ryeoun would meet him whenever he traveled between Japan, China, and Korea. Then he’d been properly stabbed in the back by that man and had vowed never to make a regular partner in this region again.

Because he was also Korean, Ryeoun had trusted and relied on him more. But he was only interested in the crumbs that fell from meeting Ryeoun. It wasn’t like Ryeoun had loved him or anything. But at least he’d relied on him.

He’d confided his worries about racing, whined when things were tough, and even video-called occasionally despite the distance—he’d thought they were good friends.

A blow to the back of the head from someone close hurts more. The person he’d been interested in wasn’t ‘Han Ryeoun.’ It was just an ‘F1 driver.’

The moment he realized that, Ryeoun cut him off without hesitation. But cutting him off didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Nothing in this world is easy. He hadn’t wanted to learn that at twenty-three, but that’s how it turned out.

Because of that man, he’d screwed up one Grand Prix. He thought that was enough regret, so Ryeoun had cleanly erased all thoughts of him afterward.

But from then on, Ryeoun had avoided making Asian partners, especially Korean ones. And because of that, he’d ended up with some nobody who left bruises… He supposed you reap what you sow.

Ryeoun let out a deep sigh. And then, the person who grabbed the wrist of the sighing Ryeoun was none other than Aiden.

“…?!”

Startled by someone suddenly grabbing his wrist, Ryeoun flinched. Aiden’s grip on his wrist was quite strong.

“What?”

“…Tch.”

Without a word, Aiden glanced down at Ryeoun’s arm and lightly clicked his tongue. For some reason, Ryeoun felt his face heat up in an instant.

Before Ryeoun could do anything about it, Aiden removed the thin watch from his arm.

“Hey!”

Then he quickly slipped a sports band onto that spot.

“…Huh?”

“What were you going to do with that puny watch? Trying to show it off?”

Aiden smirked and placed the watch in Ryeoun’s hand. Ryeoun couldn’t say anything. He couldn’t even part his lips, as if he’d eaten honey.

“Your victory god seems to have been quite fierce, hasn’t he?”

With a laugh that was somewhere between a sneer and something else, Aiden strode ahead toward the media zone. Ryeoun stood behind him, quietly fiddling with the sports band now on his wrist.

The white sports band, slightly fuzzy from what seemed like long use, felt unfamiliar and ticklish.

“Aiden!”

“Mr. Carter!”

The media zone grew noisy.

“Ha, shit…. So embarrassing.”

Ryeoun had to stand there for a while, trying hard to calm his burning cheeks.

Aiden’s face as he’d smiled brightly and said congratulations was truly beautiful. It had been such a sincere smile that Ryeoun had nearly been mesmerized in an instant.

He’d never seen Aiden smile so brightly before. Of course, he’d seen it through the media, but this was the first time in person. And that smile had been directed at none other than himself.

‘So he makes this kind of expression when I score points.’

He’d thought that blankly. And at that moment, he realized once again how serious he was about this race. Because he was the kind of man who could smile like that just from the fact that his teammate—who’d ignored him, interfered with him, and looked down on him annoyingly—had scored a mere 8 points.

It seemed like their relationship might get better. He thought that if things continued like this, trust might start to sprout. But when he faced Aiden again, only a faint hint of contempt and an unreadable complex emotion were mixed on his face.

For no reason, Ryeoun stared at the soft sports band for a long moment, then raised his hand to dry-wash his face.

He felt like, for a different reason, things were going to become uncomfortable.