𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐠; oscar piastri ✔

PART THIRTY ONE

Word count;  2,205

Mirabella

— October 2nd, 2023. Lusail, Qatar.

Oscar was waiting in a car park block, three minutes from the airport, for fear of being recognised. I could barely feel my legs, each step closer towards him like a taunt, a rebuke for ever allowing myself to get so far away. Dragging my suitcase in one hand, the other clasped onto the orange kangaroo, for fear that I'd accidentally leave it on the plane, or drop it in the middle of the streets of Lusail.

He was leaning on the hood of a rental car, scrolling on his phone, wearing a black cap and sunglasses. I could marginally see him, blanketed by other parked cars and large pillars. At the sound of my suitcase tugging along the ground, his head lifted, a smile surfacing on his lips. He crossed the space between us, somewhat knowing I would drop everything the second I had the chance to.

Every thought dissipated as his arms enveloped my frame. He still smelled of fresh cotton and teakwood and mint, of all things sweet and perfect. We stood like that for a while, in silence, not a care for the world around us, his hand only moving to carress my back.

"I missed you." I said to his chest.

"I missed you too."

I clung to the back of his shirt as he tried to pull away and, in response, he tilted my head upwards, pressing his lips to mine gently, delicately. Convinced, I let go of him, and he carried my bag to the car.

He unlocked the hotel room door, standing aside to allow me through. Bowing sarcastically, I stepped through the threshold, gladdened by the feeling of air conditioning. Unlike most of the hotels we frequented, this lacked kitchenettes and sitting rooms, instead completed with a long table and ceiling-to-floor windows.

I halted before the table, examining a vase of white lillies, harrowed by a wooden stem in the centre, bearing a polaroid photo; Oscar, Max and Lando, surrounded by party lights, clearly drunk. Pinching the photo, I flipped it over.

hi mira, pls come
back soon oscar is
too lame without
you. and bring
sambuca!
                       - lando & max

"It was after the podium in Japan." Oscar explained. "I don't think I ever drank so much. I can't even remember when it was taken. I just remember it being loud."

I beamed, brushing my thumb over the photo, unable to find the words to respond. Guilt plagued my heart - as it had since the moment he qualified p3.

"What's wrong?" He questioned sincerely.

I shook my head a little, "I'm sorry."

"Mira-"

"It was your first podium in Formula 1. And I wasn't there." I regarded him timidly.

He smirked, stepping closer so his hands could rest on my hips.

Quietly: "You were there for everything else. And that means a lot more to me than my first podium."

I scoffed a chuckle, putting my palms to his cheeks. "What did I do to deserve you and your big heart, huh?"