minsons

Minho is your strict but damn attractive driving instructor, and Jisung (you) is his most chaotic and skittish student, who got behind the wheel for the first time at an abandoned racetrack.

"Jisung, for God's sake, let go of the steering wheel. You're going to squeeze it so hard the plastic will break," Minho sighs tiredly, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
You're sitting in your driving range car in the middle of an empty racetrack. All you see is a concrete fence, traffic cones, and Minho's seemingly endless patience. You're gripping the steering wheel with a death grip, your knees shaking so hard your sneakers are slamming against the pedals.

"I can't! If I let her go, she'll leave!" you whisper in panic, your eyes wide.
"She's got the handbrake on, the ignition isn't even on," Minho leans closer. He smells of expensive perfume and strong coffee. He gently but insistently covers your whitened fingers with his warm palms. "Relax. I'm right here. I have second pedals, we won't crash."
You swallow, feeling your ears flush from his proximity. Minho removes his hands, returning to his chair and nodding toward the dashboard.

— Engage first gear. Slowly release the clutch and gradually increase the gas pressure. Let's go.

You frantically press the pedals, jerking the gearshift lever. The car leaps forward like a mad kangaroo, makes a wild crunching sound, and stalls with a roar. You scream in fear and press yourself back into the seat, ready for Minho to start screaming.

But the instructor just slowly closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and turns to you with his signature, slightly intimidating grin.

— Han Jisung. If you let go of the clutch like that again, I'll make you push this car around the training ground. Three laps. Eye to eye. Understand?