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Street Racing

"That's okay." Vanessa breathes a sigh of relief. "It doesn't matter how long it'll take." She looks at Carter, passing the message to him like a silent letter.


"I know," Carter sighs out. "I'll make sure dad doesn't know." His eyes suddenly cloud over. "But you might need to have a nickname, if you're joining the race. Everyone is going to know who are by your name alone."
 
"Yeah. If your cover is blown, everyone will swarm us." Kelas joked and Tyrako laughed. "It's a bit late. We should get back. Your next lesson is for tomorrow." Tyrako pointed out.
 
"All right." Vanessa nods. "Where are we doing it? And what time should I get there?" Vanessa's lucky that the race is in the summer, or she'd have to skip school, and her dad will find out.
 
"Cobalt District. 10 PM." Tyrako said. "Now get home and have some rest." He got into his GTR while Kelas drove back to their house.
 
Carter and Vanessa go home, too. Vanessa is behind the wheel as Carter looks out of the window. His chin is rested on the lower height of his palm. "That Tyrako guy," he says. "You sure he's good news?"


She shrugs, although she's sort of worried, too. "I don't know. But I don't really care. I'm going to race. No matter what happens."


"This better worth it, Ness," he grumbles. "Dad is going to flip."


She smiles. That's what she's hoping for.


((So, time skip?))
 
Kelas got back to his and Tyrako's home but strangely, Tyrako didn't. Kelas wondered what happened until he got a phone call. "Hello? ...What?!" He then rushed to his car and took off somewhere. "I hope he will pull through..."
 
They arrive back at the mansion half an hour later. The lights are still on, indicating that their father is still awake.


"You don't think he found out, do you?" Vanessa's hands are trembling against the wheel.


"If he does," Carter huffs, "I'll take care of it."
 
Luckily, their dad had only fallen asleep last night, so the warning was a false alarm.


Vanessa drives to Cobalt District and arrives there fifteen minutes before the said time. She waits patiently for Tyrako, fumbling with her phone. For some reason, she feels like something bad has happened, but she just doesn't know what.
 
"I can go home... Tyrako isn't going to show up... He was in... An accident... He's trying to hang on..." Kelas said sadly and quietly.
 
"What?" Vanessa murmurs. Suddenly, the street seems oddly quiet. She shivers under the cold. "Where are you?"
 
"I-I'm going there right now." Vanessa hangs up, turning on the ignition. She drives past the cars on the street, reaching her destination within minutes. She bursts through the hospital door, hurrying up the stairs when the elevator is full. She finds the room, staring at it like she's seen a ghost. Somehow, it feels the same way.
 
Tyrako's head was wrapped in bandages, breathing weakly on his bed while being unconscious. Kelas turned and looked at Vanessa. "He is trying to hang on..."
 
Vanessa covers a gasp with her hand. She walks slowly toward the bed, tears springing to her eyes. No, Tyrako can't die. Vanessa doesn't even know him yet, but . . . she wants to.
 
"The doctor said he'd be in a coma for at least one more day..." Kelas sighed sadly. He looked restless with bags under his eyes.
 
He'll survive, she tries to assure herself. But right now, Tyrako's situation is giving the most impact to his brother. Vanessa examines his tired face, the sunken cheeks. He looks like he hasn't eaten in days. Vanessa comes closer, resting her chin on his shoulders, the most she can do for a hug. "He'll be okay," she whispers.
 
"I hope so..." Kelas nodded tiredly. He looked like he would need a good sleep and a big meal. "He's all I have left..."
 
He can't leave. If only Vanessa can will Tyrako awake, she would. But that's the thing: she can't. She places a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. "Let me buy you some food."
 
"You don't have to... I'm fine..." Kelas insisted, through tiredly. Tyrako was still unconscious, breathing weakly.
 
When they're finally in the canteen, Vanessa buys him some chicken, even though it looks like it's about to go dry. "It's not the best, but . . ." She slips the tray over.
 

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