Another day
---
There lays my dad. Sick. He's sleeping on his bed as usual on his white bed that's covered in a layer of dust. I should probably clean it.
Sighing, I take a few steps towards his bed sit at the edge on Dad's right, and place my right hand on his shoulder. I could feel his shoulder blades--even the outline of them and his collarbone is visible. I look at the wooden desk that has a bowl of soup on it. It sits there. Cold. He's not eating my food again. I grunt.
"Dad, I know my food's not the best--but stop being stubborn and eat. You need it--I don't want you to die, okay?" I tell him, my voice raised a bit to a yell even though his eyes are shut in a slumber. I grumble. "I love you, Dad, sorry."
I squeeze his shoulder a bit before standing back up dusting his bed, lifting him up for a few seconds to sweep away the remaining dust and gently place him back down.
"I'll tell ya when dinner's ready." I say, walking out of his room, leaving the door open.
I trot away from the familiar hallway and look back. There was nothing much in his room. Just a desk, a bed, an empty bookshelf with a built-in desk, and under it is a safe. Dunno what's inside it. Its height is up to my kneecaps and it has been sitting there for quite some time. Seems important to Dad since every time he wakes up, the first thing he asks me is if the safe is fine. Anyway, I sleep in the living room on the couch. I do have a room for myself, but I just use it as a charge-up room for the low-end droid I bought online. When I'm out for groceries or school, basically the droid in my room takes over, taking care of Dad without me having to tell it. It's pretty cool.
I take off my uniform, leave my pants on, hop on my couch, and lie on it. I check the time on my phone.
1: 24 am
It's late.
𝘛𝘪𝘯𝘨
Ah. Someone texted me. I scroll through the apps on my phone and another message pops up. It's Klara. I tap on the notification. It reads:
1:35 am
[Klara]: How da fck did you manage to get off my sights?🤦♀️
I grin. Then I type down...
[Dante]: I slipped under your legs🤓🤓
[Klara]: 😨😨🤨🤨
[Dante]: cuz of your goofy ahh height
[Klara]: You ain't gettin' away from me again hbby. I'll find you🥴🥴
[Dante]: Stop calling me that
[Klara]: Hbby? It's cute. Fym i should stop calling ya that
[Dante]: ...
[Dante]: 🧍♂️
[Dante]: Goofy ass. Bleh. Anyway, uh, when's your race?
Klara, being the absolute stubborn dumbass she is, challenged a street racer at some point and made a bet. If she could beat all his goons with her "vintage millennia-old car," he'll pass the title to her as the new "King of the Streets," or "queen," rather. She made a bet with a gang leader, who happened to be a street racer. Her vehicle was a skyline Nissan GTR R34, and the GTR R35. I do not know how she had the money to buy those two, but she did. Somehow. I, on the other hand, am a Toyota Supra MK4 lover. I do not have one since I refuse to spend my life savings on it.
[Klara]: Tomorrow.
[Dante]: shit, fr? On a saturday?
[Klara]: Im draggin yo ass to my race. I want ya there, tomorrow, sharp
[Dante]: You dunno where I live you goof.
𝘝𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘰𝘰𝘮
I heard the growl of an engine just outside my apartment unit below. Curious, I get off my couch and gaze out of the square window, looking down and--fuck. I know that car when I see it. It's her GTR r34. It had a dark purple reflective paint, purple neon lights below it, headlights at full bright, blinking, and letting her car's exhaust run lose, creating the loudest fucking burnout I heard a GTR do, making the damn neighborhood assume another gang fight's taking place.
[Dante]: stalker.
[Klara]: Me? Psh. Nahhhh. I ain't a stalker
[Klara]: i just saw you buying sum stuff in the pharmacy
[Dante]: 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨 So you followed me
[Klara]: and I followed you
1:38 am
[Dante]: stalker
[Klara]: you like it
I scoff with a grin.
[Dante]: I'll meet ya tomorrow then
[Klara]: ya better
I turn off my phone and slip it back into my pocket as my ears grace themselves with the sound of screeching tires on the asphalt from below, echoing as it drives away. I yawn, stretch, jump back onto my couch, and close my eyes to drift to sleep.
...
Shit. Almost forgot to make Dad's dinner.
---
The engines roar and the tires screech as they grind on the asphalt, manifesting a wave of smoke to momentarily envelope the streets. There I was, standing in the middle of a bustling, smelly, loud-ass crowd, contemplating for even remotely deciding to agree with visiting the race, while holding a cup of water in my left hand, dragged--literally--by none other than my BFF Klara. She busted into my unit. Luckily she didn't break my door, otherwise, she'd need to pay some shit to me.
𝑽𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒐𝒐𝒎
𝑽𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒐𝒐𝒎
𝙑𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙤𝙤𝙤𝙤𝙤𝙤𝙢
Holy shit, not gonna lie, the race is cool and all, but man, I love the damn cars that are taking place in the race. Klara brought her Nissan GTR R35. It had a glowing dark purple color to it that was nearly reflective--I can see how stupid I look cuz of the reflection, and pink neon lights below it. She had a black spoiler at the R35's rear that has like...a line written on it...fucking hell.
"Send nudes." I read it out loud on her spoiler. "God."
On the other hand, her opponent...Fuck I'd be on my knees if there wasn't a crowd of smelly drunken teens filled with robo implants around me. Klara's rival has the Supra I want! The Toyota Supra mk4... Fuckkkkk...
I'm internally screaming right now. The vehicle had black reflective paint, missing one of its front lights--part of its style--a bumper at the front and rear. As of now, the driver of the Supra was letting his exhaust roar.
尺卂ㄒ卂ㄒ卂ㄒ卂ㄒ卂ㄒ卂
God, I love that sound.
The crowd around me screams just a pitch higher. I cover my ears, accidentally dropping my cup of water.
...
It seems like they like it too.
I see Klara doing the same, her ride letting out a similar 𝘙𝘈𝘛𝘈𝘛𝘈𝘛𝘈 like the Supra, the crowd around me going wild again..shit. I ain't used to these types of social events... Well, since she had her car's windows rolled down the entire time, I notice some dudes wolf-whistling her and stuff. That annoys me. I mean, yeah she's beautiful and all. She's pretty much "genetically blessed" with zero implants--I just said that. Bleh. Anyway, I approach her first. Since her car window's wide open, I just lean in on her car, peek inside, and knock her head since she was too focused grinning like a madwoman.
She flinches. I examine her, noticing she was lacking the basic elements of safety. "Where the fuck's your seatbelt?"
Her lips curl into that million-dollar charismatic grin that can send shivers down any man's spine. "Don't need it."
"You'll die."
"Nuh uh. I've done this shit like, more than you thought!" she says sticking her tongue at me. "I've outrun 'em cops like a hare to a turtle! Psh, those old dudes were slow as hell." Then she smirks for some reason, her eyes suddenly shifting into a more flirty stance. "Aww is my hubby worried for me~? So cute~ Thanks~"
"Kill yourself." I retort almost instantly. "PLEASE don't utter that line near a fucking crowd...!"
"Your face is red though~ I think I'll keep doing that~"
She's just a friend...she's just a friend...She probably thinks the same way.
I sigh. "Where's your helmet?"
"Don't need it either."
I grumble. "Use that thick head of yours. What happens if you crash, huh?"
There it is, that million-dollar grin again. Luckily, I get the pleasure to be basked in her smirk. "Why will I need a helmet if don't plan on crashing?"
I believe in Klara's ability to drive, but I severely doubt her ability to drive in a goddamn race. (I've never seen her drive in a race.)
"You're...a fuckin' idiot. You know that?" I retort, looking at her dead in the eyes, her grin still evident.
Ah.
I still can't figure out the color of her eyes. A bright white light flashing from a car would reveal that the color of her eyes would be hazel, then when a blue neon light flashes, her eyes would be yellow mixed with orange, then if a red neon light flashes, her eyes would reflect the color of blue--it's weird, we've been best friends for a year or two, yet I still haven't figured out the color of her eyes.
Then her opponent with the Supra honked his horn at her. Probably getting impatient. Ah...he's rolling down his window, revealing himself.
As of now, he just has on a black helmet, wearing a black leather jacket, and black gloves with a good-looking seatbelt wrapped around his torso.
"Chickening out or what? Seekin' advice from your boyfriend already?" the guy taunts us. "I mean, I would too. Especially since you, a woman, will be driving."
I can feel his cold glare from his black helmet. I quiver a bit. Shit.
Klara faces the dude and then raises a brow, her lips curving into a smug grin. "Oh? Jealous that my boy here's got a voluptuous lad such as myself?" she says, rubbing my hair playfully. "I see the way you look at me. Don't worry, I noticed~"
I dislike how her tone was a bit teasing at the end of her sentence.
The guy with the eerily black helmet revs his engine for a retort. Guess bro wasn't witty enough to create a proper comeback. Just like me.
"Say, how 'bout if I win," Klara suddenly suggests. "You give that pretty car of yours to my 'bf' over here," she says ruffling my hair like a dog, sneering at the guy.
Oh shit, she's actually gonna give me that guy's Supra...? I know her for keeping her promises but that's kind of...
"..." The guy with the black racing helmet stays silent for a moment. "What's the catch? So if I win?"
"Hm? Oh, you won't. That's the catch."
"You bitch."
Oop. That's the cue. Time to retreat.