𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞; oscar piastri

PART TWENTY NINE

Likelihood of chapter thirty this weekend is looking low, I have work all day tmr and an essay to write (I want to die) before new years, where I'm working AGAIN as well as celebrating (so who knows when tf I'll have the time to write but you know me, I'll pull through).

Only just realised it will soon be a year since I started White Flag (my first ever OP fic) which is just INSANE. I'd never do this without your guys' support, it means so much to me. How many more OP fics do you think I can write before getting bored???

Anyways, much love, enjoy this chapter (you won't.)

Word count; 2,567

Tomás

— June 4th, 2023. Barcelona, Spain.

No-one knew about Sebastian's visit to the Spanish Grand Prix, and they never would. In fact, it was as if it never happened in the first place. Curro himself didn't even doubt my disappearance either, sensing it was something to do with the poor qualifying session, though he chastised me in the same way as always - a message, a call, anything to tell him where I was. More advice I'd never listen to, already forgotten with race day on the horizon.

I had barely slept. Just smoked, every hour, in hopes it would calm the trembling of my fingers, when I knew for a fact it wouldn't. Each time I'd go back to bed, I'd toss and turn, the knot in my stomach preventing the shutting of my eyes. It was like every minute that passed tightened it, tugged on the strings of my soul, like how a child would antagonise their parent. And I didn't even know why.

That was a lie. I did know why. It was a mix of nerves, of guilt, of regret. It was Sebastian's words plaguing my every thought, but not just that. It was the way he'd made the effort to come see me, at the request of his old teammate who he hadn't spoken to in years. It was the fact that I'd shut Oscar down, but he'd pushed one last time, asked Mark to help. Meanwhile, I'd already given up; I'd seen our differences and quit it, and let Pierre push me around again.

I was scared. And he'd never forgive me.

No more.

For the last time, I found my way through Alpine hospitality, avoiding personnel, anyone who may stop me. Entering Pierre's drivers room, I glanced around the mess, finding his bag in the corner of the room. Digging through the different pockets, I searched for the only reason I was back here.

That goddamn ring.

Except, the door behind me opened and I snapped upright, hands folded behind my back. Pierre halted, caught off guard, only to smirk as he shut the threshold.

"Where is it?" I said, not giving him the change to speak.

"Where is what?" He raised a brow.

"You know what."

He scoffed a little, sensing my curt attitude. Revealing his hand, he slid my mother's ring off of his smallest finger and held it out. I snatched it, putting it back on my own.

"Just like old times." He supplied, that smirk still lingering.

I cleared my throat, adjusting the ring beneath my knuckle. I'd told myself to get it and leave, to put all of this behind me; I didn't owe him anything, I never had. It was always the other way round.

But I couldn't.

Just like I couldn't say no to him the other night.

"It was a mistake, Pierre."

"How's that?"

"You know exactly how." I glared at him - after all, it wasn't his name I said when I'd finished.