Thousands of fans continued to scream as the infamous Jackson Storm pulled out of victory lane, his signature smirk on his features. Regardless of his crushing victory, very few of his fellow racers congratulated him. He knew one car was waiting for him back at his trailer though; (Y/n).

(Y/n) and Jackson hadn't been friends for very long, but they were already extremely close. The (v/t) had quickly worked their way onto Jackson's good side, showing respect to the Piston Cup champion even on his bad days. The racer wasn't the fastest to notice, but after much explaining from Ray and Gale, Jackson had finally accepted (Y/n) as a friend. Just because it was said out loud, however, didn't mean that he was the greatest at showing it. He did really appreciate their help and support. So, with Gale's help, Jackson had taken (Y/n) aside to explain himself. It didn't take long for (Y/n) and Storm to work out their differences. They had become an amazing team since.

Lost in thought, Jackson nearly missed (Y/n) sitting beside his trailer as he pulled up. He paused to give them a small smile.
"Waiting for someone?" He asked, turning towards them. The (v/t) gave a small nod, gesturing away from the busyness of the pits. His engine hummed behind them, leaving the reporters and lights at the track.

It didn't take long for (Y/n) to come to a stop under a set of old stands. They turned around, a soft smile on their lips. It was dark, and Storm could just barely see (Y/n)'s curves under the moon's reflection. His mind went over the past season and everything (Y/n) had done for him.
"Storm?" (Y/n) finally spoke, their voice quiet and hesitant. The race car's attention returned to them and he hummed, showing that they had his attention. The (v/c) (v/t) exhaled, their warm breath appearing like smoke in the evening air. Cars quietly gathered around, hitting record on their cameras.
"I-... I like you, Jackson. I have for a while now but I just-"
"Wait, you like me?" Jackson cut them off, shock covering his face. He had not expected this at all. He suddenly felt the need to yell; to stop them from continuing. He knew what was coming. He had heard countless stories, watched endless movies, and he didn't like any of it. He wasn't ready for the drama, the pressure, and the stress of being in a relationship on the track.
"Yeah... I know, we've been friends for a while but..." (Y/n) paused hope and worry wafting out of their expression. They were being vulnerable, and they were only unprepared for what was to come.
"(Y/n), I don't see you that way." He spat out as if it was instinct to reject people. He was panicking. He could feel the pressure of his pistons pumping under his hood. He was too focused on protecting himself to see the hurt in (Y/n)'s eyes. Neither said another word before Storm backed out of their hiding place. His engine revved, shooting him back towards the pits.

(Y/n) was frozen. Everything was falling apart; their world crashing down around them. After what felt like hours, reporters swarmed their exit, endless questions rolling off their tongues, cameras capturing all the emotion on their face. They remained silent, rolling past the flashing lights as tears began rolling down their fenders. Their worst nightmare had come true. Their admiration for the number 20 race car was officially unrequited love.