VIPER || Oscar Piastri

Chapter 4

[POV: Andi Saunterre]

By the end of the race, I didn't even want to look at the results. It couldn't get any worse, really; Charles had retired from the Bahrain GP due to an electrical problem on his 41st lap, so from then on I had no real reason to continue watching. As for the other drivers, it was no surprise that Max had won, that was premeditated, but it pained me to see the McLaren's do so poorly.

Lando had finished last, which I'm sure he wasn't at all happy about (nobody would be) and as for 'Oscar', well. He retired at some point at the beginning of the race. I wasn't too concentrated on it, in all honesty. I'm seriously not bothered.

As for my own personal and current situation: I wasn't allowed to leave my father's sight until the race was officially over.

Rather old fashioned, I thought. Archaic may be a better word for it.

Oh, and I made sure he knew that I wasn't happy with his rules. In fact, I went above and beyond. During the race, I only ever had my back towards him. I made sure to stay well away from him, but not too far as to wander out of his sight.

Petty, I know. But necessary.

But now, I had bigger worries. Worries that included my best f—

...My friend, Charles.

I'd been worrying since I saw him retire the race, but I haven't been able to do anything about it due to my father's restrictions. Finally, however, the race was over. My initial plan was to hurry down to the Ferrari garage and check with the staff about his whereabouts. Due to mine and Charles' history, I was able to figure that out pretty quick. One warden had told me that he'd gone straight back to his motorhome, and so I made my way over to it.

On the way, I pictured what I'd say and how I'd say it. I went over it in my head and made sure that there was no way that I could mess it up, although I knew that I had a violent history of speaking out of turn unexpectedly due to nerves. Nonetheless, I felt prepared. I felt prepared to console an old friend of mine that I'd known since before I can remember. I was prepared to act like I cared about him in a friendly type of way, not in the other way. I was prepared to act indifferent to my feelings, as long as I knew he was okay.

But...

I wasn't prepared to see what I did.

As I walked up to the motorhome, I noticed an extra pair of shoes at the doorway. When I peered in slightly, I could've sworn my lungs momentarily disappeared and my heart suddenly stopped for a second.

It was expected, what I saw.

I should've known, really; That I wasn't the one who should comfort him. Not anymore, not me.

As quietly as I could, I left the Ferrari garage for the second time that day. For a second, I lost my bearings and felt an awful feeling of repentance, but also one of anger. Not the kind of anger where the only rational way to overcome it would be to punch something or someone, but an odd kind of anger. I wasn't sure what would get rid of it; I didn't want to punch anything or anyone, really.

Maybe I should, though. I thought. Just to check.

Once I'd walked a few feet in front of me, I started to recognise where I was. I could hear the usual cheer of successful teams (The McLaren garage was silent, in that case) as well as a few familiar faces.

One of them was in the middle of a post-race interview.

"Are the team worried about the upcoming Saudi Arabian GP?" The reporter asked an understandably sweaty and worn out Lando Norris. When he saw me looking, he smiled and made sure he knew that he'd spotted me with a small wave.

He answered honestly, "Well, y'know. We leave Bahrain knowing we have work to do but the season is long. We'll regroup and will be ready to go again in Saudi Arabia."

That's probably my favourite quality of his. His honesty. It's never a matter of 'I wonder what he thinks of...' with Lando; What you hear is what he thinks, no funny business. That's not to say he isn't funny, of course. He's very funny, although I wouldn't tell him that to his face.

Though we haven't been friends for as long as me and Charles, we've known each other long enough for me to trust him completely and even call him one of my best friends. What's more is that he's been incredibly kind to me during the summer, not to mention accommodating. In fact, during the time of the British GP, when I'd gotten myself into a bit of trouble, he insisted I stay with his family. Yes, it was awkward to receive a ride home from his mother at 4 in the morning, but I owed them big time.

"Great. Thanks Lando." The reporter ended their chat, as he could see that Lando was itching to get away from him. As he did so, Lando made a gesture with his hands to signal that he'd come and talk to me 'over there', which he mouthed to make it clearer.

Giving him a thumbs up, I went to make my way over to him when—

"Oscar! A few words?" The very same reporter shouted, gaining my attention as well as the Australian's.

I paused.

He can't be too happy about his debuting race, surely. I thought.

"So. Not a great start?" He asked, which I thought was a bit abrupt.

I watched on as he answered.

"Yeah, I mean obviously not an ideal start. Of course I'm disappointed; This wasn't exactly the kind of weekend we wanted as a team but y'know, it is only the first race and now the team has a very clear idea of where we need to improve, so I guess that's something." He said, smiling.

Has... he taken a Xanax or something? I though to myself, wondering how on earth he was so calm. I tilted my head, biting my nails, trying to figure out if maybe he really was bursting with rage and I'd somehow catch him slip up. As I watched, I hadn't noticed Lando has joined me in the viewing, and neither did I notice Oscar catch me looking until it was too late to look away and play it off.

I blinked, thinking for a second that he was looking at someone else. Then I panicked as I realised he was indeed looking at me.

"So you're not too worried then. Not a call for concern?" The reporter asked.

The boy simply brought his attention back to the interview with ease and answered diligently. I then found he wasn't hiding an underlining anger.

"No, no, not at all. I'm definitely hopeful, definitely. You've got to be, really."

"Alright, thanks Oscar!"

And that was that. Definitely not what I'd expected of someone who'd retired 15 laps into his first F1 race ever.

Lando seemed to notice my astonishment in what I'd witnessed, as he chimed in: "And that's not a mask, either. Dude's chill. Too chill." He said, watching his teammate farewell the reporter and disappear into the McLaren garage.

Huh.

"No." I said, turning towards my friend without looking at him. I held my index finger up slightly, thinking. "It must be Xanax. It has to be."

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DISCLAIMER: Any harsh remarks made against the McLaren F1 team are for humorous purposes! I LOVE McLaren! ☺️