𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮; oscar piastri ✔

PART TWENTY FIVE

SORRY THIS HAS TAKEN FIVE DAYS TO COME OUT AHHHHHHHH

Word count; 2,211

Addison

— September 18th, 2023. Marina Bay, Singapore.

Picking one of Oscar's shirts off of the floor, I slipped into it, sauntering to the kitchenette to source a glass of water. Bringing it to my lips, a pair of arms slid around me, Oscar lowering his chin to the nook of my shoulder.

"I love it when you wear my stuff." He murmured, squeezing me against him.

I went to say something back but stopped short, noticing a grumble behind us. Carlos - who had fallen asleep on the couch - was on the floor, stirring awake, questioning where he was. Oscar chuckled, releasing me from his arms. I hadn't realised he was shirtless; perhaps because I had stolen the top he was planning to wear.

"Do you want to check on Lando or should I?"

"I'll probably need help dragging him to the shower." Oscar prompted his brows.

"Coffee first?"

He agreed, opening a cupboard to find some mugs whilst I filled a kettle with water.

"Coffee, Carlos?" I asked over my shoulder.

The Spaniard mumbled a refusal, having climbed his way back up onto the couch, head buried in his hands; the affects of last night had settled on him, mixed with regret. I placed the kettle onto the hop, switching on the gas, waiting for it to start bubbling while I returned to the bedroom. Digging through my purse, I found a small packet of painkillers.

"Here." I crouched by Carlos, painkiller in one hand, water in the other. "For your headache."

He frowned at me, purely out of the fact the room was so bright, and muttered, "Eres un ángel..."

"What does that mean?" I echoed from the night before, watching him down the pill.

He didn't answer, sitting back against the couch with closed eyes. I sighed, glancing at Oscar, who shrugged with a smile.

"For you." He put a cup of coffee on the counter.

"Thank you." I beamed, taking a sip.

We regarded each other, both knowing we could no longer put off our next task.

"Let's get it over and done with." Oscar smiled, walking past me.

I followed him, back to the bedroom and to the balcony, where he slid the door open quietly. Sighing, I folded my arms together. Lando lay across the concrete - because he insisted that sleeping inside would only make him feel more sick - shirt stained by old vomit. Briefly, I closed my eyes, overwhelmed by the stench.

Oscar tried to shake him awake but received no response, standing up with his hands on his hips.

"You take legs, I'll take arms?"

I nodded, stepping beside him. We picked him up - though it was more Oscar if anything - and dragged him through to the ensuite, dumping him in the bath. Oscar turned on the tap, the rushing water slowly bringing Lando back to consciousness.

"Got it from here?" I asked, barely able to stand the smell any longer.

"You go." He agreed.

Shutting the door behind me, I returned to the main part of the hotel room, where Carlos still hadn't moved from the couch.

"Want anything for breakfast?" I probed, searching through cabinets.

He muttered something incoherent and I exhaled, finding an apple and banana from the fridge. I held them out in front of him, and he reluctantly reached for the apple, taking a bite sleepily.