✓ | UNTIL THE SONG WAS DONE, oscar piastri

FIFTEEN

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MAIA has been coddled up in her hotel room since she saw Oscar enter his own room across from hers, and she feels like a moron.

The TV channels were becoming more and more unappealing by the second, none of her usual YouTube creators had uploaded anything new today, and she swore she wouldn't study or think about school at all for the next few days. So, she was left sitting on a chair near the window of her hotel room, looking out to the streets of Baku, wondering why the hell she even accepted the invite in the first place.

Yes, the plan was to see Oscar suffer and tiptoe around her as they went through the FIA event, but now she just wants to abandon the plan and catch the latest flight back home.

This isn't worth it. Oscar isn't worth it.

It wasn't long until she was pulled out of her contemplation, as she heard a knock on her door echo throughout the room meant for one.

She got up quickly and placed a hand on the door handle, praying, hoping, needing the person behind the door to be literally anyone else but...

When she opens the door, she sees Oscar for the first time in person, and she almost slams the door in his face.

"Uh, hi Maia," he says, giving her a polite little smile. "I...got you food. Had it delivered."

Maia blinks, because what the hell did he just say?

It's their first time talking in person after how many years, and he opens up with the fact that he ordered her food?

"Um, thanks?"

"Yeah, I was ordering online and I saw the place had one of those tomato & mozzarella sandwich-things you used to like. I...I don't know if you still like them, but," he holds up a small brown bag in his hands, OSCAR P. scrawled on it with marker. "For you."

Maia was stunned, hit with a freeze ray and she didn't have the will in her to get herself unfrozen.

"Yeah," she says slowly, grabbing the brown bag. "I do still like those. Thanks."

If that window behind her didn't have glass, she would have jumped out of the building by now.

"It's no problem," Oscar nods, rubbing his neck and looking away from the woman in front of him.

He looked...the same.

It's weird. Maia has never really understood the whole 'Wow! You look so different from when I last saw you!' thing that family members or old friends will do to her. It's overdramatic and everyone's face stays generally the same as they get older, even with the loss of baby fat or what else there was.

Oscar pretty much looked like how she remembered him looking, save for the obvious muscle gain and new height he had on her that he most certainly did not need. He couldn't have been more than four inches taller than her, which was shit, really. Otherwise, he still had the same features. Same brown eyes she remembered would crinkle at the ends when he laughed, and the same lips she remembered would flash her snarky smiles when he got a higher score than her in a game.

He was just Oscar. Nothing crazy, nothing new, besides his whole Formula 1 driver gig, of course.

"My friends are excited to meet you," he says out of nowhere, shoving his hands into the pocket of his dark green hoodie, bearing the initials 'OP' on the upper right.

"Do your friends also wear their own merch?" She jokes, turning to place the 'sandwich-thing,' as Oscar called it, onto the table under the TV. She unwraps the bag and pulls out the food, which was packaged neatly in a take-out box.

"Eh, sometimes," Oscar answers, still standing outside the door. "I just didn't feel like packing anything crazy."

"Oh, alright, just thought you were a narcissist," she jabs, tossing the empty bag in the trash. After, Maia spins around to face Oscar, and she sees him standing there like a six-year-old waiting for his mom. "Are you gonna come in?"

"Wasn't aware if you wanted me in or not."

"Well, there's your invite."

Oscar looks down at the line separating the hotel room with the hallway, steps over it, and finds himself basically two inches away from his original spot.

He then lifts his head to look at Maia, a familiar smug smile painted on his pale face. "In."

Maia deadpans, and waves him off. "Okay, out, out!"

Oscar laughs and puts his hands up in defense as Maia places her own hands firm on his chest, giving him a light push. "You said—!"

"Nope! Bye, Oscar! Thank you for the food!"

And she closes the door right in his face, like how she had wanted to earlier.

She doesn't know this, but outside of her door, Oscar is still laughing a little. Just to himself as he stands alone in the hallway. He thinks the reason why he's laughing is because he feels like he's twelve again, and it may just be the best feeling he's had since his sprint win from the season. Or, maybe, he's laughing because Maia is a complete, utter hypocrite.

She had said, in those fire-filled paragraphs she had sent him a few days ago, that they only ever touched each other if they had to for a picture or a game. And yet, just a few seconds ago, she pushed him—no picture or game required.

Oscar is the only person that can make Maia go against her own word, and he fucking loves it.

NOTES!

oscar is just a little menace is basically what i tried to convey with this chapter

xoxo, cas