𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞; oscar piastri

PART FIFTEEN

AHHH this took way too long to come out

Word count; 2,273

Tomás

Lando skipped out of the restaurant, and I could tell he was on his last stretch of energy - one final outburst before he gave in to slumber, given it was already quarter to two in the morning. Oscar surfaced behind him, keys dangling in hand, and we made our way to his car.

"Careful!" I exclaimed, watching Lando nearly bang his head on the door as he climbed in.

"Shh," He dismissed, "So dramatic."

I rolled my eyes, turning away to tap ash out of my cigarette. Oscar was already sat in the driver's seat, window down, waiting for me to finish, gaze searching the car park absent-mindedly. Glancing back at Lando, I frowned.

"Sit up, mate."

He ignored the statement, rolling over; in the moment I had shifted my attention away, he'd taken the opportunity to lie down.

"Oscar, your seats are cold." He announced, eyes fluttering shut.

"Sit up!"

"Can I borrow your jacket?" He asked innocently.

"No. Sit up."

Once again, he pretended not to hear me, instead wrapping his arms tighter around his body as if that might help. Rolling my eyes, I pivoted, taking another drag. With hardly any cars on the road, apartment buildings void of light, it was easy to mistake this part of the city as abandoned. Lifeless. Alone.

Shaking my head, I regarded Lando again, who - as I had predicted - had fallen asleep, curled up in Oscar's back seat. Stomping on my cigarette, I wondered how I might move him, too knackered to even think of his attitude if he woke up.

"Would it kill you to sit in the front?"

My gaze shot to Oscar, who was looking at me through the rear-view mirrow.

Would it?

I sighed, noticing small bumps form over Lando's forearms. Shrugging off my jacket, I tossed it over him, shutting the door quickly after. Oscar switched on the ignition.

Except, nothing happened.

Brows knit together, I loitered by the driver's door, watching him try again. 

Nothing.

He looked at me, expression harrowed by skepticism, screaming this has never happened before. I scoffed a chuckle; to think he was a Formula 1 driver, and didn't know how to fix a car.

"Pop the hood." I directed, approaching the front of the car.

Oscar obliged, joining me as I lifted up the bonnet, clipping it into place.

"Ugh," I studied my palms, now plagued by grease. "Fucking rentals."

"What is that?" Oscar ignored my curse, grimacing at the souse-infested engine.

I didn't respond, mainly because I was unsure myself. It wasn't oil, that much was clear, given the sticky orange residue on my skin. 

Examining the different components, I soon found my answer, eyes widening at it. Reaching into the car, I picked up the engine coolant cap, which seemed to have popped off - and as a reuslt, spat most of the coolant over the engine.

"What's that?" Oscar asked.

"The reason this car is two miles away from exploding."

"What?" His tone wavered.