DAYLIGHT | oscar piastri

056

-ˋˏ ༻ ✺ ༺ ˎˊ-

Miami is the place to one of the most new racetracks on the calendar.

To be perfectly honest, this place doesn't exactly rank high on my list of favorites. The race track leaves much to be desired, and last year's chaos didn't do much to boost my opinion. I've heard no whispers of any significant modifications or improvements, so it's safe to say my expectations remain low. To make matters worse, they decided to turn the entire event into a spectacle. They're planning to have us march into the track before the national anthem, all while a melodramatic song blares over the speakers and a cheerleader performance ensues. I found myself secretly wishing they would play "Du du du du, Max Verstappen" or "SuperMax". If this was the level of showmanship here, I dreaded to think what Las Vegas had in store for us.

We had touched down just a few hours ago, and I had promptly checked into my hotel. My team, however, was yet to arrive. Thankfully, Marjorie had the foresight to call the hotel in advance and inform them of my early arrival. Charles, unfortunately, wasn't staying at the same hotel. After much persuasion, I managed to convince him to head to his accommodation. We had spent a good portion of the flight engrossed in conversation, which had done wonders to lift my spirits. Above all, I was starting to realize that a change of scenery, in circumstances such as these, can often be the best remedy.

I sat down at one of the couches the room had, there were two in front of the huge window.

— And i'm back, ¿ Are you okay? — asks Charles walking through the door and I chuckle.— ¿What? I asked for an extra key just in case.

— I'm fine Charles, I promise, I calmed down. And so should you.

— This is just temporarily Lowie, after you cry you are gonna feel better, but later on the real feelings kick in.— he sits down in front of me.— And we need to make sure that happens now, not at the race. It's not safe for you to drive in these conditions.

— I know, i'm sure that's gonna happen the second I lay down in Oscar, which is going to be in about three hours, ¿Could we pretend nothing happened until then? I could use the distraction.

Oscar and I agreed to meet up when he lands, our teams are once again in the same hotel, which is exactly what we needed. I would tell him everything if he already didn't know, and show him the messages. Charles was the one to convince me to do so, I was planning on keeping the messages I got out of this, but he made me understand those aren't normal and I should let him in on this.

— Okay fine, ¿what do you want to do?

— Let's watch a movie and order room service, I would love to walk around the city but you know.— I scoff sarcastically.— Not the time.

— Hey at least you're making jokes about it! That's an improvement.

✺

I grabbed the tissues and handed them to Charles. But I took a few to myself first. He had chosen the movie, "The Art of Racing in the Rain" and he only chose it because it was racing-related, but it wasn't just that, it was a story narrated from the dog's perspective. And of course, the dog dies at the end. We were both made a mess, with red eyes, puffy noses, and a thousand tissues around us.

— Oh my god his name is Enzo! .— Charles sobs.— It's the dog, he can race now!

I nodded and the movie ended. Charles didn't say a thing, i looked over at him to make sure he was okay, but he was staring at the television, hugging a pillow, and a single tear rolling down his cheek. I burst out laughing at the dramatic scene, which seemed to bring him back, as he now was looking at me and threw the pillow at my face.

— It had boogers on it! — I scream throwing it back at him.

— Good.

I was gonna say something else, but a knocking on the door stopped me. I got up, fixing my hair and drying my cheeks before opening. Oscar was there, with a smile, but that smile died when he noticed how red my face was.

— ¿Are you okay? — he whispers and caresses my cheek.— ¿Were you crying?

— Yeah i'm okay, I was watching a movie with Charles and it was a sad ending.— I say and point at the Monegasque sitting on the floor of my room.— Come in.

I grabbed his hand and walked both of us inside, before closing the door I made sure no one was in the hallway. It was empty, thank god. Oscar looks around him and a funny smile appears on his lips.

— ¿You okay mate? — he asks, sitting down on my bed and bringing me closer to him, leaving me standing in between his legs.

Charles clears his throat and gets up as he nods.— Yeah yeah i'm fine, I just have a friendly suggestion, never watch "The Art of Racing in the Rain", it's not fun.

We both looked at him as he got his things and left the room, I could still hear him sniffing. When he closed the door, I turned all of my attention to Oscar. I passed a hand through his hair and smiled even bigger when he closed his eyes at the touch. I gently caressed his face, his nose, his cheeks, his lips.

— ¿How was the flight? — I ask in a whisper.

— It was okay, I wish you would've been there, to hear you rant about your books.— I smile and kiss his forehead. Oscar sighs and puts his arms around my waist.— I thought our flights left at similar times, ¿did you change it?

— Mhm, Charles offered his jet and I accepted, I needed some good sleep and I don't get that on a normal flight.— that wasn't the reason, but I didn't want to tell him the truth just yet.

I didn't even want to think about everything that went down a few hours ago. The memories were too fresh, too raw - a maelstrom of emotions that I was not yet ready to unpack. Instead, all I wanted, all I yearned for at that moment, was the simple comfort of his presence. I imagined myself wrapped in his arms' warm embrace, seeking solace in the familiarity of his touch. I longed for the tranquility of complete silence - no words needed to be spoken, no thoughts needed to be shared. All I wanted was to exist beside him, in a silent communion that spoke volumes more than any words ever could.

— Oh, that's cool, how was the flight? — he whispers back.— ¿did you get your sleep?

— Something like that.

I found myself unable to succumb to sleep. My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, a storm of uncertainties and worries that seemed to amplify and intensify in the quiet. Every time I closed my eyes, the thoughts seemed to get louder, and more demanding.

Oscar, perceptive as always, seemed to sense that something was amiss. There was a noticeable change in his demeanor, a silent acknowledgment of my inner thoughts reflected in his eyes that were locked onto mine. His forehead furrowed slightly, a silent testament to his concern. Yet, if he did understand, he chose not to voice it. Instead, he gently pulled me towards him, his strong arms encasing me as we both fell onto the soft comfort of the bed.