The bass thumped so loud it rattled the windows of the car.
Y/N crossed her arms tightly over her chest, glaring out at the blur of neon lights as Nicotine's BMW crawled closer to the noise. The stench of gasoline and burnt rubber already hung in the humid night air, clinging to her nostrils.
Y/N: "This is insane."
She muttered the words under her breath, shifting uncomfortably in the passenger seat.
"I don't know why I let you drag me to this."
Nicotine: "Correction: I didn't drag you. I invited you. You said yes."
Nicotine smirked, eyes glued to the road as she maneuvered around parked cars lining the cracked asphalt.
Y/N: "I said yes because you wouldn't shut up about it."
Nicotine: "Exactly. Now stop sulking, Whiskey. You'll thank me later."
Y/N rolled her eyes at the nickname that had stuck like glue since her first week at Velvet Room.
Y/N: "You know I hate it when you call me that outside of work."
Nicotine: "Please. It fits you everywhere. Smooth, intoxicating, burns just enough to leave a mark."
Nicotine grinned wickedly, sparing her a glance.
"Besides, it's safer than yelling your real name in a place like this. Trust me, these guys are animals."
Y/N sighed, sinking lower into her seat as the car pulled off the main road and onto cracked pavement lit only by headlights and flickering streetlamps. The crowd came into view then—a writhing mass of bodies pressed close around a makeshift racing strip. Engines growled like wild beasts in the distance, their headlights slicing through the darkness.
Y/N: "God, it stinks out here."
She wrinkled her nose, tugging her jacket tighter around her body.
"Like smoke and testosterone."
Nicotine: "Mm-hm. And money, babe. Don't forget money."
Nicotine parked, throwing the car into neutral with a flourish before twisting to face her friend.
Nicotine: "Okay, ground rules. Don't make eye contact with any of the racers unless you want them to think you're offering your number. Don't wander off alone. And if anyone touches you, tell me so I can stab them."
Y/N: "You're making this sound super appealing."
Nicotine: "Relax, Whiskey. You're gonna have fun. Or, at the very least, you'll have something new to complain about later."
Y/N pushed the door open reluctantly, her heels clicking against the cracked pavement. The humid air wrapped around her like a second skin, sticky and heavy. She tugged at the hem of her maroon leather jacket, keeping her chin high despite the curious eyes that followed her as they walked.
She was used to being stared at. Velvet Room taught her that much. But here, it wasn't appreciation..it was hunger.
Y/N: "Fucking hell, It's like a zoo."
Nicotine: "You say that like it's a bad thing."
Nicotine looped her arm through Y/N's and tugged her forward.
Nicotine:"Come on. Let's get a good spot. The next race is about to start."
They edged through the throng, the crowd thick with sweat, cologne, and excitement. Somewhere a DJ had set up massive speakers, blasting bass-heavy music that vibrated through Y/N's ribcage.
As they stopped near the front, Y/N leaned against the hood of an abandoned car, her eyes scanning the chaos with interest. This wasn't her world. Velvet Room might be sinful, but at least it had rules, structure. Here, there was only raw adrenaline and recklessness. Yet for some reason it piqued her.
Nicotine: "Look alive."
Nicotine nudged her ribs with a grin.
"He's here."
Y/N: "Who?"
Nicotine: "Ghost."
Y/N raised a brow.
Y/N: "Ghost? What is this, a video game?"
Nicotine: "No, smartass. He's the undefeated king of this scene. Fastest driver, most dangerous reputation. No one's ever beat him in the 5 years he's been showing up."
Y/N: "Hmm. Sounds charming."
Nicotine: "No, sounds hot. You'll see."
The roar of an engine silenced the crowd. Heads turned. All eyes fixed on the matte black car gliding smoothly into position at the starting line. Its custom lights glowed like predator eyes in the dark.
The driver stepped out to a deafening cheer.
"Ghost! Ghost! Ghost!"
Y/N froze.
Her stomach plummeted as her eyes locked on him.
JUNGKOOK.
He was older now--sharper, harder. Tattoos crept along his hands and up his forearms, black ink peeking from the sleeve of his fitted shirt. Silver rings adorned his fingers, catching the neon light with every subtle movement. A simple silver chain rested against his throat.
His hair was longer than she remembered. But it was the same face. The same eyes. Dark, intense, and focused.
The last time she saw those eyes, they were stormy with heartbreak.
*FLASHBACK*
A door slamming. Her voice cracking as she screamed.
Y/n: "Maybe our parents are right! Maybe we really aren't good enough for each other!"
Jungkook's hands balled into fists at his sides, his jaw clenching so tight she thought it might break.
Jungkook (then): "yeah, because your always proving them right, just fucking stop and grow up, y/n!"
His voice was raw. Wounded.
Y/N (then): "I'm not the one risking my life on that bike like some stupid thrill-seeker! I fucking hate you, fuck you!!"
He stared at her, his expression unreadable. For one awful, silent second, she thought he might stay and fight.
But then he turned. Walked out. The roar of his bike engine drowned out her sobs as he disappeared down her driveway.
She never saw him again.
*PRESENT DAY*
Now here he was—Ghost, they called him. Cold as steel. Untouchable.
Nicotine: "Y/N? Y/N, are you okay?"
Nicotine's voice was distant, but Y/N didn't respond.
She couldn't. Not when her chest felt like it had been split open.
Of all the places, of all the people…
Why here? Why him?
Jungkook's head turned lazily as he scanned the crowd. Then—His eyes landed on her.
His entire body stilled.
For a moment, the world went silent. The bass faded. The cheers melted away. It was just him and her across the asphalt, staring like ghosts of a past life.
And then—
The corner of his mouth curved.
A smirk. Slow. Dangerous. Familiar.
Y/N's fingers curled into fists.
She lifted her chin, forcing her lips into a neutral line, refusing to let him see even a flicker of emotion.
Not here. Not now. Not when her heart was pounding like a drum in her throat.
Nicotine: "Why do I feel like I just stumbled into a K-drama?"
Nicotine whispered, glancing between them with raised brows.
Y/N didn't answer. She couldn't.
Because Jungkook—no, Ghost—was walking back toward his car. But not before giving her one last lingering look over his shoulder.
And in that split second, Y/N knew one thing:
This night had only just begun.