Dirty Air

The engine screamed as Nick flew down the track.

“Two laps to go Nick. Gap ahead, 1.2,” came the voice over the radio.

Nick stayed silent, his hands steady on the wheel. The steering fought him through the corner, the car slipping sideways for a fraction of a second, before biting back into the asphalt.

He corrected immediately, and he cleared the barrier with enough of a gap to make a bug feel claustrophobic.

The crowd noise roared as he streaked down following straight — louder than Australia, sharper than Japan. Korean flags blurred past in the stands, phones raised, banners shaking as he darted through a chicane.

“Lap fifty-four,” the engineer announced. “You’re P3. TaurusForte ahead is four tenths. DRS available. Gap behind is stable.”

Nick exhaled slowly.

P3 wasn’t enough. He felt he could achieve more this race.

Ahead of him, the purple TaurusForte car wavered slightly on corner exit, rear stepping out just enough to notice. Nick immediately understood the situation. Their tires were tired; the driver would likely not be able to defend against Nick.

Nick followed through the fast left, staying just far enough back to keep the front end alive. Dirty air began to cause understeer, but he compensated with a wider entry, sacrificing a fraction of apex speed to protect the exit.

“Battery is good for one push,” the engineer said. “If you’re going to try, it’s now.”

Nick smiled under the helmet.

He already knew where.

The main straight opened ahead of them. The TaurusForte maintained the racing line, not committing to defending.

Nick locked in. He switched the ERS mode to “Overtake”

DRS opened.

The car surged forward, acceleration pinning him into the seat as the gap collapsed rapidly. The engine screamed, vibration blurring his vision until the purple rear wing was the only thing discernible.

The Enstone car darted quick — clean and decisive — to the inside.

The TaurusForte reacted late, panicking on the brakes as Turn One rushed toward them.

Nick braked too, however, later than the TaurusForte.

The car rapidly decelerated, front tires protesting as weight transferred hard over the pavement. The TaurusForte’s brake lights flared just ahead of him.

Nick held his line and the two entered the corner side by side.

Concrete walls closed in, unforgiving, sandwiching the two with little room for error.

Nick turned in with precision and confidence. The TaurusForte tried to hold the outside, but the grip wasn’t there. The car slid slightly wide, opening a gap—

And Nick took the apex.

The car rotated cleanly. Out the exit, he fed the throttle early, rear tires spinning but holding. The TaurusForte fell half a car length behind.

Then a full car length.

“That’s P2. P2,” the engineer said, voice hardly containing excitement. “Great move. Protect it.”

Nick took the time to finally blink.

Second place.

But it wasn’t done yet.

The TaurusForte didn’t disappear. It stayed close, recomposing, and preparing for a counter into the next section. Nick understood that now it was his turn to defend.

He braked into the chicane, choosing a conservative entry to keep the car stable over the curbs. The rear began to slip slightly coming out of the corner, but he corrected without difficulty.

The crowd roared as the big screen replayed the earlier pass — the DRS, the late braking, the clean exit.

The radio crackled.

“Onto the final lap. Gap behind six tenths.”

Nick swallowed.

His body was feeling the fatigue now. His arms burned, neck screaming under lateral load. Sweat dripped into his eyes, blurring the edges of his vision. But he blinked hard and kept driving.

Turn One again.

The TaurusForte swerved inside, threatening a dive. Nick covered the inside late, just closing the door enough to deter a move.

Brake. Turn. Throttle.

As he exited the corner, something played in his mind — not just a thought, a memory replay.

Her hand holding his.

The kiss during their walk.

Nick’s chest tightened for half a second.

He braked a hair too late into the next corner.

The front tires locked briefly, smoke puffing from the front-left as the steering failed to respond and the car pushed toward the barrier.

“Nick—”

He released pressure immediately, turning the wheel with the increased grip that shifting the weight away from the front provided.

The car made the corner—but barely.

His heart hammered violently now, loud enough that he could feel it in his throat.

“Front temps are a little high but nothing worrying,” the engineer warned. “You’re okay. Stay calm.”

Nick dragged in a breath.

“Copy,” he said.

He pushed the rest away.

There would be time to think later.

The TaurusForte closed again to punish the mistake, filling Nick’s mirrors as they approached the hairpin. Nick defended the inside, braking early, prioritizing exit traction over speed.

The TaurusForte tried a late dive anyway.

Locked up.

Just a touch — but enough.

Nick saw the puff of smoke. He held his line, rotated the car, and powered out cleanly while the purple car ran slightly wide.

The gap grew.

First by half a second, then more.

“Good,” the engineer said. “That’s it. He’s out of time.”

Nick took the final chicane cautiously, avoiding the worst of the curb. The car stayed composed.

The final straight opened ahead of him.

He stayed on a steady throttle, finishing the race clean and smooth as he approached the finish line.

Then he saw the flag stand.

At first, it was just like he’d seen in dozens of other races, someone standing above the track, arms raised, the checkered flag already mid-swing.

Then his brain caught up.

It was Areum waving the flag.

Nick blinked once inside the helmet, convinced for half a second that he was mistaken. The angle wasn’t great, and the glare from the lights made it hard to see clearly—but for him, he was certain.

She wasn’t waving wildly, likely doing it exactly the way the officials had instructed.

The checkered flag came down again, clean and sharp.

Nick crossed the line.

The steering wheel display updated.

P2.

His radio exploded.

“That’s P2! P2!” the engineer shouted. “That’s your first podium, Nick! In only your third race!”

Nick let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Copy,” he said, voice steady but low.

He lifted off and let the car coast, guiding it gently through the first few corners as the noise from the grandstands swelled. His hands felt slightly numb now, fingers stiff as the adrenaline began to ebb.

He looked up again as he passed a giant screen displaying the TV broadcast.

Areum had already lowered the flag. An official stepped in to take it from her, and cameras immediately closed in. She said something to the coordinator beside her—probably thanking them—and stepped back, posture still neat, expression neutral.

He drove the rest of the lap slowly, following the delta on his steering wheel. The crowd was still loud, but it felt more distant now, like nothing else could bother him in that moment.

As he approached parc fermé, the marshal signaled him in.

Nick slowly pulled into the pits, stopping the car on the mark and cutting the engine.

For a moment, he stayed seated, hands resting on the wheel, helmet still on. He rolled his shoulders slightly, easing the stiffness in his neck.

Then he got moving.

Belts off. Steering wheel out. He propped his arms on top of the halo and hoisted himself out of the car.

His feet hit the ground, and the noise instantly blasted him—applause, cheering, camera shutters snapping in rapid bursts.

Nick pulled his helmet off and accepted the towel someone handed him. He wiped his face and hair, then draped the towel over his shoulder as microphones immediately appeared.

“Nick Young! P2 in Korea—your first Formula One podium! How are you feeling right now?”

Nick took half a second to settle his breathing.

“It feels great,” he said. “Immense thanks to the team. We had a solid weekend, great strategy, and made the most of our opportunities.”

The interviewer leaned in again with the microphone.

“That overtake on the TaurusForte—talk us through it.”

Nick nodded. “We noticed they were struggling a bit on corner exit. I had one push left with the battery, and I knew I could do it.”

The reporter smiled.

“That move was very decisive. Did you know immediately it would stick?”

Nick shrugged slightly. “Yes, I was confident. The car had been great all race so I had faith. Once I got the apex and had the exit, I knew I was in a good position.”

“And the pressure after that?” the reporter continued. “Street circuits are always scary with close walls, what went through on the final lap?”

Nick nodded. “Yeah. I mean of course there isn’t room for error. I didn’t want to risk it, so I was being more conservative with my braking points and exits. Didn’t try to do anything extra.”

The interviewer smiled and gestured toward the grandstands.

“And you managed all that with quite a lot going on around this weekend. Big crowd, tons of fans of you and Enstone — and a very special guest waving the checkered flag today.”

Nick already knew where this was going, but he played it off.

“Yeah,” he said. “I didn’t know that was happening ahead of time.”

The interviewer raised an eyebrow. “You really didn’t?”

“No,” Nick replied. “I only realized when I crossed the line.”

“And what was that like?” the interviewer asked. “Seeing Lee Areum waving the flag for your first podium?”

Nick paused briefly — a certain moment from his recent memory flashing in his mind like a scene from a movie.

“It was surprising,” he said. “I mean, I’ve said before that I’m a fan. So seeing her there at the end of the race, especially for my first podium, there’s not a whole lot that could make it more memorable, you know?”

The interviewer latched onto that immediately.

“You have mentioned being a fan before.”

Nick nodded. “Yeah. For quite some time. I think a lot of people are too.”

A few laughs rippled through the nearby crowd.

“Almost like a bit of movie magic for your first podium,” the interviewer said.

Nick exhaled lightly.

“I guess you could say that,” he replied.

Right on cue, movement caught the interviewer’s attention.

“And speaking of which — she’s actually here with us now.”

As he said that, as if scripted, Areum stepped into view smoothly, accepting the microphone with practiced ease.

“Areum,” the interviewer said, “you waved the checkered flag today for Nick’s first podium. What was that experience like for you?”

“It was exciting,” she said calmly. “I’ve watched races on a screen before, but being that close to the finish line in my first live race was so fun. The atmosphere was incredible.”

She turned slightly toward Nick.

“And getting to be this close to one of the podium winners is also really nice.”

Nick nodded once. “Thank you.”

The interviewer smiled. “You two just seem so naturally at ease around each other”

Nick considered the question, but was interrupted by Areum answering.

“That’s probably because we’re basically childhood friends,” Areum revealed. “We went to the same schools when we were younger, before our lives went in very different directions.”

Nick smiled faintly at that.

“I agree,” he said. “Having an old friend here to witness the first of many podiums, it warms my heart”

The interviewer laughed, clearly pleased.

“Well, congratulations to you Nick, once more, on your first podium. It seems that you don’t intend on settling just for points finishes.”

Nick shook his head lightly. “Definitely not. I want to win”

Before anything else could follow, Marcus stepped forward smoothly.

“Alright, that’s all for now,” he said. “Nick has podium duties.”

As the microphones lowered, Nick leaned slightly toward Areum.

“Seems like you were about to tell a whole story there,” he said.

She shrugged. “A love story would be interesting for the fans.”

He nodded. “Fair.”

A coordinator gestured on Areum’s arm, guiding her away toward the VIP exit. Marcus did the same with Nick, steering him toward the podium stairs.

Nick waited at the base of the podium steps while officials finished arranging everything. A marshal gestured for him to move forward, and Nick followed, adjusting the towel over his shoulder as cameras repositioned.

The podium music started.

He climbed the steps, his legs still weak from the race, and took his place on the second step. The view from up there was amazing—higher, louder, more exposed. The grandstands stretched out in front of him, packed with people cheering and waving. He lifted a hand and waved to the fans, who responded with even more noise.

The driver on the top step raised his trophy first. Applause followed. Then Nick’s turn came.

An official handed him the trophy—it was heavier than he expected. Nick held it up, briefly, then lowered it again. Cameras everywhere began flashing. He smiled and waved at all the fans in the stands, many of which were cheering his name.

The champagne sprays followed.

Nick twisted the bottle clumsily at first, then figured it out, sending a wide arc into the air. Someone soaked his shoulder. He laughed and retaliated, and even the other podium drivers were not spared.

Once the bottles were empty, the three podium finishers posed for photos, arms around shoulders, trophies held up again, flashes popping nonstop. Nick’s cheeks already ached from smiling.

Eventually, the officials ushered them down.

Back on the ground, the audience noise was muffled, replaced by the controlled chaos of staff, security, and media rushing back and forth. Marcus was there almost immediately.

“Good,” he said quietly as he handed Nick another towel. “Always glad to see you smile! This is your day!”

Nick laughed. “Interview okay?”

“Fine,” Marcus replied. “Not perfect, but fine. We’ll manage it.”

They started walking toward the paddock exit reserved for drivers. Nick could still feel the attention following him—heads turning, phones rising, people whispering. In just a short amount of time after the race, the world was spinning around him.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

Once.
Then again.

Marcus noticed. “Don’t look yet.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Nick said.

“Good.”

They reached the Enstone trailers in the team paddock, where the audience noise felt distance. Team staff passed by, congratulating him as they went. Someone clapped him on the back. Another told him he’d earned it.

Nick thanked them, still running on adrenaline.

Seated on a chair scrolling on his phone, Reyes was waiting.

“Podium in Korea,” Reyes said. “That’s not luck.”

Nick nodded. “Car felt good.”

Reyes studied him for a moment, then gave a short nod. “Enjoy tonight. Tomorrow, everyone everywhere will judge you much harder.”

Nick understood what he meant.

As Reyes walked off, Marcus stopped near the transport vehicles and finally gestured for Nick to check his phone.

Nick pulled it out.

Notifications filled the screen.

Clips. Mentions. Headlines were already forming.

FIRST PODIUM.
CHECKERED FLAG MOMENT.
CHILDHOOD FRIENDS REUNITE AT FINISH.

Nick exhaled slowly.

Marcus glanced at the screen once, then looked away. “We’ll get ahead of it,” he said. “Same-city, childhood friends, nothing more. Simple.”

Nick nodded. “Okay.”

As Nick continued scrolling, a staffer approached Marcus and whispered in his ear. Marcus listened, then sighed.

“Areum’s team wants to know if we’re available for a joint photo later,” Marcus said.

Nick blinked. “Later as in—”

“As in right now,” Marcus cut in. “We’re setting up a quick photo op by the sponsor wall. Five minutes. Lee Areum is already nearby.”

Marcus stopped.

Marcus glanced at Nick, then back at the coordinator. “Who approved it?”

“Race organizers,” she said. “They want a clean, neutral shot. Podium finisher and flag waver. Nothing staged.”

Marcus exhaled through his nose. “One photo,” he said. “Try not to take long, we have the team debrief in 20.”

“Understood,” answered the coordinator.

Nick didn’t say anything. He just nodded.

They walked toward a small clearing near the paddock entrance where a sponsor backdrop had already been set up. It was obvious this had been decided quickly—cables taped down hastily, photographers jockeying for position, security trying to keep a loose perimeter.

Areum was already there.

She stood with her coordinator a few steps back from the backdrop, jacket on, hands folded loosely in front of her. When she noticed Nick approaching, she tilted her head slightly.

Marcus leaned in as they walked. “Stand to her left. Neutral posture. Eyes forward unless they ask otherwise.”

Nick nodded. “Got it.”

They took their places in front of the backdrop, leaving a small but noticeable gap between them. The photographers immediately began calling out.

“Nick—over here.”

“Areum, center please.”

“Just one together!”

Areum shifted half a step closer, just enough that the framing centered both of them cleanly. Nick adjusted his stance, holding his trophy at his side rather than front and center.

Cameras fired rapidly.

Flashes popped in quick succession, lighting the space in sharp bursts.

“Nick, can we get a smile?”

He smiled.

“Areum, just look here—great.”

She did.

Someone called out, “You two go way back, right?”

Marcus opened his mouth, but Areum answered first, tone even.

“Same city,” she said. “A long time ago.”

Nick nodded. “Yeah.”

The photographers reacted immediately, snapping faster now.

“Alright, that’s good,” Marcus said firmly after a few seconds. “That’s enough.”

The coordinator echoed him. “Last shot. Thank you.”

They stepped away from the backdrop almost in sync, the moment ending as quickly as it had begun.

As they cleared the cameras, Nick glanced sideways.

“That was fast,” he said quietly.

Areum nodded. “They don’t like to waste momentum.”

He almost laughed. “Yeah. I noticed.”

Her coordinator gestured toward the VIP exit. Marcus did the same toward the team area.

Before they separated, Areum looked at him again.

“Congrats,” she said. “For real.”

“Thanks,” Nick replied. “For… everything.”

She gave a small nod. “Glad I could give you some motivation.”

Then they were pulled apart—security stepping in, staff guiding them in opposite directions.

They were separated cleanly.

No rush, no tension—just staff doing what they always did. Areum was guided toward the VIP exit, Nick toward the team area, both absorbed back into their respective schedules before either could linger.

Nick didn’t look back.

The rest of the evening passed in pieces. A brief team debrief that blurred together. Congratulations from engineers who looked more proud than surprised. A late dinner he barely touched. His phone buzzed constantly in his pocket, but he kept it face down on the table.

When he finally made it back to the hotel, all the noise from earlier still rang faintly in his ears.

He kicked off his shoes near the door and dropped his bag by the desk. The room felt too quiet after the day he’d had—no radios, no engines, no voices in his ear. Just the soft hum of the air conditioning and the city lights bleeding in through the window.

Nick set the trophy down on the nightstand, then stood there for a moment, hands on his hips, staring at it like he wasn’t entirely convinced it was real yet.

His phone buzzed.

This time, he picked it up.

🡺 I

He typed back immediately.

🡸Just did.

Three dots appeared almost right away.

🡺Want to talk?

Nick glanced at the clock. Late, but not unreasonable. He sat down on the edge of the bed and wiped a hand over his face.

🡸Yeah.

The call request came seconds later.

He accepted.

Her face filled the screen, framed by soft lighting. She was sitting cross-legged on a couch, oversized hoodie pulled over her hands, hair tied up loosely. No stage makeup. No staff in sight.

“You look alive,” she said.

“Barely,” Nick replied. “You?”

She shrugged. “Watching recordings of me waving the flag at the end of the race.”

He smiled. “You did great.”

“You say that like I was the one racing.”

“Still,” he said. “Very professional. Didn’t even look nervous.”

She laughed quietly. “I was. I just didn’t want to mess it up.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the kind that didn’t need filling.

“So,” Nick said eventually. “Busy night?”

“Not really,” she replied. “A lot of talking. A lot of ‘you did great’ from people who definitely didn’t watch the race.”

“Sounds familiar.”

“Hey, I was watching at the edge of my seat,” She shifted slightly on the couch. “You okay after everything?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Tired. But pumped. Kind of both.”

She nodded. “That makes sense.”

Another pause.

“I didn’t mean to put you on the spot earlier,” she said. “With the interview.”

Nick shook his head. “You didn’t. It was fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I mean, ‘childhood friends’ is the exact context of you and I, is it not?”

She smiled at that. “True.”

Nick leaned back slightly, resting against the headboard. “The photo op was fast.”

“They always are,” she said. “If you blink, you miss it.”

“I think the internet didn’t,” he replied.

She raised an eyebrow. “I haven’t checked.”

“I wouldn’t,” he said immediately.

She laughed. “Wasn’t planning to.”

They both knew that desire wouldn’t last long.

“I’ll be back home for the next stretch of the season,” Nick said, almost casually.

“That’s funny timing,” Her eyes flicked up. “I’ll be in the U.S at the same time.”

“Oh, which part,” he asked.

“A few places in between tour stops,” she said. “Some events. A lot of cameras.”

“Same,” he replied.

Another pause.

This one felt different.

“So,” Areum said, tilting her head slightly. “We should probably talk about this.”

Nick tilted his head. “About?”

“I don’t think today changes what we are,” she continued. “But it does change how visible everything is.”

“That’s fair,” Nick said.

“And I don’t want to pretend nothing’s happening,” she added. “But I also don’t want to turn this into something bigger than it needs to be.”

Nick considered that. “Same.”

She looked at him carefully. “So what do you want to do?”

He didn’t answer immediately. He wasn’t stalling—just choosing the simplest truth.

“I want to keep seeing you,” he said. “I know its hard for you, for both of us. And yet, I want to be at least a little selfish.”

She nodded slowly. “That’s pretty much where I’m at.”

“Which probably means—,” Nick started.

“—we keep it quiet,” she finished.

“Yeah.”

They shared a small smile.

Areum let the word sit for a moment, then nodded to herself.

“Okay,” she said. “Then we should probably be clear about what that actually looks like.”

Nick exhaled lightly. “Agreed.”

“No announcements,” she said first. “No posting. No showing up anywhere we didn’t already agree on, or are forced to be.”

“That’s easy,” Nick replied. “I barely post as it is.”

She smiled. “Lucky.”

“And if we see each other,” he added, “it’s because our schedules already overlap. Not because we’re forcing it.”

“Exactly,” she said. “No sneaking around just to sneak around.”

Nick thought about that. “Hotels instead of restaurants. Quiet places. Short windows.”

“And it can’t be every time,” she said. “If it’s too risky, we don’t push it.”

He nodded. “That’s fair.”

She tucked her hands into the sleeves of her hoodie, thinking. “If anyone asks directly… we have to go with the story we gave early.”

“Same-city. Old friends, got it,” Nick said.

“Until that’s not enough anymore,” she replied.

He met her gaze seriously through the screen. “Then we deal with it.”

Another pause.

This one felt settled.

“So,” she said, lighter now. “We’re doing this carefully.”

“Yeah,” Nick said. “But we’re still doing it.”

She smiled at that, small but genuine. “Good.”

Nick shifted slightly. “When we’re back home… if there’s time—”

“There will be,” she said, not missing a beat. “We’ll figure it out when we get there.”

He nodded. “No pressure.”

“None,” she agreed. “Just… intentional.”

They shared a look that said they both understood what that meant.

“I should probably sleep,” Nick said after a moment. “Before my engineer decides to personally drag me out of bed tomorrow.”

She laughed. “I should too. Early call time.”

“Goodnight Areum”

“Goodnight Nick”

Nick ended the call and set his phone face down on the bed.

The room went back to silence. The city lights outside the window flickered as traffic moved below. He stood, crossed the room, and opened the curtains a little wider.

Tomorrow’s schedule sat on the desk, neatly printed and clipped together. Media. Training. Travel.

At the bottom of the page, the next races were already highlighted.

United States.

Nick picked up the paper, scanned it once, then folded it in half and set it back down.

They’d figure it out when they got there.

For now, that was enough.