Untitled

Melbourne, Australia 

Oscar sat in the waiting room, his heart pounding in his chest as the beeping of machines and the sterile scent of the hospital filled his senses. People moved all around him, their restless bodies catching his attention as they paced back and forth. He heard shouting coming from his left, but the noise was muted as though he was underwater. His mind kept replaying the moment, over and over again. 

The moment everything had gone wrong. 

The moment that changed everything. 

2 Hours Earlier 

Rain pelted down, soaking him to the bone and making Oscar’s usually floppy hair stick limply to his forehead. The Aussie looked up towards the dark sky, blinking rapidly as the droplets weighed down his lashes. 

“Jack?” he called out nervously, his voice echoing through the open space. He looked around, his eyes scanning over the rocky cliffs which he had so stupidly decided to climb. “Jack?” he called again, his voice turning more urgent. 

Oscar moved to climb further, his foot slipping against the wet rocks as a strained curse left his lips. He threw his hands out in front of him, his palms scraping roughly against the stone, tearing the skin and leaving rivulets of blood to drip down his wrist. 

“Fuck!” Oscar exclaimed, his voice dying as the sky grumbled above. 

Shaking and with now bleeding palms, Oscar forced himself to climb further, all while muttering curses and blindly shouting Jack’s name, straining his ears as he listened for the reply. 

Once he got to the top of the cliff, he looked over the edge, watching through the cascade of rain that pummeled the water below. 

Fuck, it was such a stupid idea to go cliff diving when there was a chance of rain. Why had he let Jack talk him into this!? 

Suddenly, a figure appeared through the fog of rain. He was too far away from Oscar to make out any details, but Oscar knew it was Jack. 

“Oscar!” He heard break through the thundering sheets of rain. The figure’s hand was in the air, waving erratically as he tried to get Oscar’s attention. 

“Jack!” Oscar yelled back. He squinted through the rain, trying to figure out where was best to step so he didn’t slip and go tumbling off the side of the cliff. 

“Look… at… this…!” Jack’s voice rang through the air, each word punching through the deafening rain and reaching Oscar separately. 

“What!?” Oscar shouted back. The words had been so distorted by the rain he wasn’t able to decipher them. 

Jack didn’t respond. Instead, he simply began to move. Oscar watched as the figure came closer, his body trembling as the rain hammered down onto him, throwing him off balance as the slickened rocks beneath his feet grew wetter and wetter. 

Oscar watched in horror as Jack’s foot slipped, sending his entire body listing sideways and right over the edge of the cliff. 

“NO!” Oscar screamed, the sound punching out of him as he watched Jack’s body go plummeting off the side of the rocky cliff. 

Fighting against the treacherous wind and the slippery rocks, Oscar scrambled over to where Jack had just been standing. He had too much momentum, sliding across the rocks as his feet went flying upwards and his back hit roughly against the jagged limestone. His hand shot out, blindly searching for something to latch onto as he went sliding towards the edge, his clothes ripping against the uneven surface beneath him. 

He just barely managed to clasp a hand around one of the edges of the layered rocks, hissing in pain as his open cuts pressed into it. 

“Fuck!” Oscar exclaimed, his words being whisked away by the hazardous rain. 

Oscar managed to pull himself upwards before quickly throwing himself back towards the ground and leaning over the edge, desperately trying to get a look at where Jack could have fallen. 

He was high enough to the point where he could just barely make out the ground, the rain only making it harder. Without a second thought, Oscar pushed himself upwards and made sure he was steady before jumping over the edge and sending himself plummeting towards the water. 

The second his body hit the water, Oscar felt like he’d been shot. His body seized. Every inch of him feeling the ice-cold water soak into every crevice and threaten to turn him into a block of ice. 

Oscar forced those thoughts out of his head, kicking against the oppressive water and forcing his limbs to work again. 

He surfaced with a gasping breath, his lungs greedily sucking in the air as his chest heaved below the surface. 

Oscar blinked rapidly, trying to clear the seawater from his face. He turned his head this way and that, desperately trying to get a clear look at where his friend might have landed. 

Oscar cursed as he realized one terrifying thing.

Jack could have sunk, and he’d have no way to find him. 

Fuck! 

It was then that Oscar heard a terrified scream.

His head jerked towards the direction it had come, and Oscar watched as Jack fought desperately against the crushing waves, his body being thrown every which way as his head continuously surfaced for gasping breaths of air. 

Oscar scrambled to get his body moving, forcing every other thought out of his head and solely focusing on making his limbs move as he fought the waves towards the direction of his friend. 

Once Oscar got near, he noticed something was seriously wrong. Jack’s flailing had slowed, and his head kept dipping towards the water before he’d jolt upwards. 

Oscar swam faster, ignoring the pain in his tired limbs as he fought with the sea to reach his friend. Once he did, he noticed how the water around them had turned a startling murky red. 

Oh shit, Oscar thought, trying desperately not to internally freak out. Fuck, fuck, fuck! 

“Jack!” Oscar screamed, reaching towards him and noticing how Jack’s eyes lazily fluttered open before closing once more. “Fuck! Jack, wake up!” 

Oscar grabbed hold of him, pulling Jack’s limp head out of the water and lightly slapping his face, searching for any kind of reaction. 

Jack’s eyes fluttered open slowly, but they were glassy and had a faraway look to them. 

Oscar felt his heart squeeze inside his chest, but he didn’t have time to freak out now, the waves were only getting worse, and the water was a concerning temperature that he knew if he stayed in any longer, he would freeze to death. 

With gritted teeth, Oscar wrapped Jack’s limp arm around his shoulder and threw his other arm around Jack’s waist, taking a deep breath before he began to painstakingly swim one-armed towards the shore. 

The process took longer than he would have liked, and the entire time Oscar kept screaming Jack’s name, searching for any kind of reaction as Jack’s head kept falling forward limply, and Oscar could see the trail of blood they left every time he glanced towards the water beneath them. 

After what felt like hours, they finally reached shore. Oscar dragged Jack’s limp body towards it, lowering him to the ground and watching in horror as the sand beneath him began to turn red with the blood flowing from the back of Jack’s head. 

Oscar wanted to cry. They were stranded on shore in a rainstorm with the sun nearly set and no possible way to get help. His breathing picked up, and his eyes filled with tears as he looked down at Jack’s lifeless body and the blood that was slowly soaking into the sand around them. 

Jack’s eyes had slowly stopped fluttering open and closed, and his chest was barely moving up and down. 

Oscar sank down onto the floor next to his best friend's limp body, trying to figure out what to do next. If he left Jack here to go search for help that might not even be around, he risked the chance of something awful happening while he was gone. But if he stayed here with Jack, he’d most likely die, and it would be all Oscar’s fault. 

A sob ripped from Oscar’s chest as he looked down at Jack’s body and back out towards the sea. 

“We’re fucking only seventeen!” he screamed at the water in front of him. “We’ve barely even lived! He’s– he’d barely done any-thing…!” His voice cracked on the last sentence before breaking off into a harsh sob as tears spilled over his cheeks, mixing with the rainwater that had long since chilled Oscar to the bone. 

Suddenly, a bright light broke through the darkness that had begun to blanket Oscar. His head shot upwards and towards where the light was coming from. He brought a hand up to cover his eyes as he squinted in its direction. 

A Jeep came rolling towards them, headlights glaring and projecting a spotlight directly onto where Oscar was sitting hunched over Jack’s lifeless body. 

Oscar sucked in a breath of air before screaming for help. 

“HELP! HE-LP!” he called, his voice cracking with the strain on his vocal cords as more sobs continued to fall from his lips. 

Two bodies jumped out of the Jeep and began to sprint towards them, their footsteps silent against the sand and the pounding rain that continued to drench them. 

“What happened?” One of them asked, crouching down next to him and trying to get a good look at Jack to assess his injuries. 

“What the hell are you two doing out here?” The other man asked. He looked to be in his late twenties and had a gruff voice. 

Oscar couldn’t reply. His throat felt thick with tears as sobs continued to wrack his body, the longer Jack showed no sign of life. 

The guy who had crouched down next to Oscar reached forward, placing two fingers against Jack’s throat, searching for a pulse. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, removing his fingers and letting his hand dangle limply at his side. “Fuck, we need to get this kid to a hospital.” 

“He-he hit his head,” Oscar managed to get out, his voice shaking. 

“Shit,” the other guy said. He motioned for his friend to help him and bit out, “Help me get him to the Jeep.” 

The other guy nodded, and they worked together to get their arms around Jack and lift him up so they could carry him back towards their Jeep. 

“C’mon, kid,” one of them said, motioning with his head for Oscar to follow. 

Oscar did without any hesitation. He scrambled to get into the backseat, cringing as the two men laid Jack’s body across the backseats, resting his head against Oscar’s lap, the blood from Jack’s head seeping into his shorts. 

The two men rounded the Jeep, quickly getting into the front seats and starting the car, navigating through the blinding rain and sand back towards the streets so they could rush them towards the nearest hospital. 

“Can you tell me what the hell happened?” One of them asked, the guy who had initially crouched down next to Oscar. 

Swallowing thickly and avoiding looking at Jack’s unmoving face and instead focusing on his barely rising chest Oscar recounted what had happened, explaining how Jack had slipped off the side of the cliff and must have hit his head on the way down. 

Neither man said anything in reply, just simply swearing under their breath, letting the car fade back into an awkward silence that felt all encompassing. 

Oscar wasn’t sure how long it took to get to the hospital, but by the time they made it there, his shorts had been soaked through with Jack’s blood, and the two men had been silent for long enough that Oscar didn’t dare to ask their thoughts. 

He didn’t even dare to ask their names, only learning them– David and Harley– when the nurses had asked, searching for information that they wouldn’t get from Oscar in his dissociated state. 

He refused medical attention as well, insisting that he was fine despite the scratches covering his palms and refusing to get looked at, no matter how many times the nurses asked. He didn’t need their attention; Jack did. 

David and Hunter were nice enough to wait with Oscar until his parents showed up, having been contacted by the lady at the front desk who had been eyeing Oscar with concern from the moment he had refused medical attention. 

Neither man had attempted to talk to Oscar, just simply sitting quietly on either side of him in the waiting room, letting the noises of the hospital fill in the otherwise overwhelming silence. 

Oscar barely noticed the front doors opening, and he would have continued to ignore everything around him if a familiar voice hadn’t screamed, “OSCAR JACK PIASTRI!” making him nearly fall out of his seat. 

His mother– Nicole Piastri– stormed over towards him, her face set in a worried frown, but her furrowed eyebrows betrayed her fury. 

She stopped right in front of him, taking in his sorry state of blood-stained shorts, damp shirt, and tear-streaked face with matching bloodshot eyes. 

“Oh, my baby,” she whispered, reaching forward to cup his cheeks, immediately making Oscar’s eyes fill with an embarrassing heat as more tears began to fall, his mother’s words breaking the very fragile walls he had only just begun to build. 

“It’s bad, Mum. It’s really fucking bad,” Oscar gasped out, the words spilling out of him faster than his brain could keep up. 

Nicole didn’t say anything in response; she just pulled Oscar’s face against her chest and began to brush her fingers through his matted hair, listening as her little boy broke apart against her chest. 

***

The news came two hours after they had arrived at the hospital. 

Jack’s parents had long since gotten there and had been alternating between pacing the tiny waiting room, sitting quietly in the uncomfortable plastic chairs, and asking Oscar a million questions that he could barely formulate the answers for. 

It was clear they were pissed. Even in Oscar’s broken state, he could recognize that. He could tell even his own mum was upset, although surprisingly she kept her biting comments and reprimands to herself. 

The Warrens weren’t as thoughtful. They tore into Oscar, switching from asking how he could be so stupid  to blaming their own son and then breaking down in tears, the longer they had to wait for any news. 

The last thing they had been told was that Jack was in a critical state and were focussing on trying to get his breathing to stabilize by placing him on a ventilator. 

That’s why, when a doctor appeared with a sullen face and leisurely pace, Oscar knew Jack was dead. 

“The Warren family?” The doctor asked, scanning the room for similar blond curls that adorned Jack’s head. 

“Yes,” James– Jack’s father– said, standing up immediately. His wife– Charlotte– followed swiftly, clutching his bicep in a tight grip. 

The doctor's face turned solemn quickly, and he clasped his hands together in front of his chest in a placating gesture. 

“I’m afraid I have some very difficult news: your son has died from an intracerebral hemorrhage that was caused by a traumatic brain injury, which he received from hitting his head on a jagged rock.” 

A sob was ripped from Charlotte’s throat, and she brought a shaking hand up to cover her mouth. 

“An intracerebral what…?” James asked, staring at the doctor with anger and confusion. 

“Internal bleeding in the brain,” The doctor supplied sympathetically. 

“Oh my god,” James brought his hands up to cover his face, shaking his head in disbelief. “No, he can’t be. He can’t be!” 

The doctor didn’t respond, letting Jack’s parents process the news for another few moments before speaking once more. 

“He was declared brain-dead fifteen minutes ago. I’m sorry, but there was nothing else we could do.” He went on to explain that the hospital offered resources that the parents could reach out to that offered grief counseling and something else that Oscar tuned out, his brain shutting off once the doctor had uttered those words. 

‘Brain-dead fifteen minutes ago.’ Jack was dead. He had died fifteen minutes ago, and Oscar hadn’t even known. He hadn’t had a clue Jack had taken his last breath somewhere down the hall from him only fifteen minutes ago. 

The realization felt suffocating. Jack was dead. He had died. His fate had probably been sealed the moment he’d gone over that cliff. Everything Oscar had done in an attempt to save him had been for nothing. 

Jack was dead. Jack was dead. Jack was dead. Jack was dead. Jack was dead. Jack was dead—  

His spiraling thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the doctor's next words. 

“—see the body before we take him into surgery.” 

Wait, what? 

“What?” Oscar croaked out, making every pair of eyes turn towards him, sympathy swimming in each of them, even Jack’s parents’. 

“Oscar sweetheart,” his mum said, cupping his face once more to gain his attention. “The doctor just informed us that Jack was registered as an organ donor and his heart is going to be used to save another boy's life who needs a transplant.” 

Oscar’s head spun with the information. 

“What?” he repeated, the words not making sense. 

Jack had just died, and they were already going to take his heart and give it to someone else!? 

The doctor mistook Oscar’s disbelief for confusion, so he explained further. 

“He was declared brain-dead, but we kept him on a ventilator to keep his heart pumping so that we could come out and ask his parents for permission to use it for a transplant. He was legally registered as an organ donor, but seeing as he was only seventeen, we still need his legal guardian’s permission.” 

Oscar’s eyes slid towards Jack’s parents, sure that they would never agree to this. 

Charlotte’s eyes were full of grief as tears streamed freely down her cheeks. 

“This boy is really sick?” she asked, her voice shaking with the effort to conceal her sobs. 

The doctor nodded. “Yes, he’s seventeen as well, but he’s currently experiencing end-stage heart failure.” 

Charlotte's eyes widened, and she looked towards James, their eyes meeting before she nodded her head. 

“Do it. Save some other mother’s child since you couldn’t save mine.” A sob tore out of her chest, but she continued through it. “It’s what Jack would have wanted.” 

Oscar’s vision blurred, and his hearing turned to static at the words. 

How could she say such a thing!? Jack had barely been dead for an hour, and they were already allowing for him to be cut open and the only remaining part of him that was still alive to be given away to someone else!? 

Rage swelled heavily inside Oscar’s chest. Abruptly, he pushed himself upwards, out of the plastic waiting room chair, and away from his mum’s comforting arms. 

“How could you do that!?” he screamed, all of his grief spilling out of him. It was like his ribs had been cracked open and every ugly piece of him had become unraveled and put on display for everyone to see. “How could you just give up on him!?” 

It didn’t make sense. Deep down, he knew he wasn’t making sense and that he wasn’t being fair, but the pain in his chest was so blinding that he couldn’t do anything else but scream at the person who was willing to take the only remaining piece of his best friend away from him. 

A pained sob escaped Charlotte's lips, and Nicole opened her mouth to scold him, but Oscar didn’t wait around for whatever words she had to say. He stumbled towards the door, moving in an uncoordinated fashion and knocking into chairs as he rushed towards the exit. 

He ignored his mother’s screams of his name as he stumbled into the parking lot, collapsing onto the sidewalk outside and not even fighting the tears that spilled down his face and the sobs that were ripped out of him. 

Everything hurt so much. 

An unimaginable pain had surged through him and consumed his every being. It felt like he had been cracked in half, and something that had once been a vital part of him had now gone missing. 

He didn’t notice the rushed footsteps behind him and barely registered the arms of his mum wrapping around him, pulling himself against her chest as he screamed into the parking lot, letting every ounce of pain escape him in hoarse cries until his throat burned and his voice was nothing but a whisper. 

Jack was dead, and there was nothing he could do to change that. 

***

5 Months Ago 

Lando Norris was dying. 

End-stage heart failure, the doctors had said, staring at him in pity as he lay in a hospital bed with an IV stuck in his hand and his mum’s hand pressing against his knee. 

It had been a long time coming, with seventeen years in and out of the hospital, Lando had always known he’d end up here. He just hadn’t expected the fear to be as striking as it was. 

He could feel his heart rate spiking, and the machine hooked up to him only confirmed it as it began to beep, alerting the doctor to his sudden panic. 

“There’s still a chance,” the doctor soothed. “A six to twelve-month period of possible treatments and the chance of a transplant.” 

Lando listened, but he wasn’t truly hearing anything the doctor had said. He’d known this was the end the moment he had started getting so sick he couldn’t stay out of the hospital for longer than twice a month. 

It was then that Lando had decided he didn’t want to be a test guinea pig. No more impossible treatments that only had a small chance of working. He was sick of the side effects and the constant appointments. 

He would either get a transplant or he would die. 

It was as simple as that. 

Of course, his parents hadn’t agreed. Neither had his siblings nor his friends. Hell, he was sure a majority of his school would have protested if they had been privy to that conversation. 

And Lando could understand them, really, he could. But he was tired. Tired of doing treatment after treatment that only served to make him feel worse, or get everybody’s hopes up only for him to end up back in the hospital a month later. 

But Lando had bit his tongue. He had gone along with whatever his mum had said, letting her and his father do the talking while he dissociated, lying in the hospital bed. 

The doctor wanted to try some new treatment, have him see some different specialists in a different country if those didn’t work. 

He didn’t bother fighting. He knew his parents wouldn’t give up the way he almost wished they would. At least then this would all be so much less painful for everyone. He hated the thought of what his body was doing to them. How everyone around him was stuck waiting on his body to decide whether it wanted to live or die. 

They were all prisoners left at the mercy of his body’s cruel rule. 

***

Present 

This was it. Lando was actually dying this time. Five months he’d made it after the doctor had announced that he had entered the end-stage of heart failure. 

Five months and he was exactly where he had started. Lying in a hospital bed, with an IV in his hand and his mother at his side, only this time, he was in a different country. 

Australia. Because, of course, Australia was where he had to die. 

They were here visiting a specialist for Cardiomyopathy– the disease Lando had– when he’d gone into severe Cardiogenic Shock and had to be rushed to the hospital. 

It had been sudden. Shortness of breath that felt like he couldn’t get an ounce of oxygen, his hands going cold and clammy, such an intense dizziness that the entire room spun, and by the time he had reopened his eyes, he was on the floor with no clue how he ended up there. 

The ambulance ride was jumbled pieces of a puzzle thrown together. Lando couldn’t remember much more than the bright lights and the sound of sirens. 

When he awoke, he was in a hospital room and the discussion of surgery was floating from mouth to mouth, filling his lagging brain with jumbled static. 

A sudden voice cut through the noise as a hand grabbed his face, turning his head towards them, making him squint through his blurred vision. 

“–transplant. You’re going to be ok!” 

The words didn’t make sense to him, but before he could question them, his chest seized with unimaginable pain, and the darkness of unconsciousness swept over him once more. 

The last thing Lando remembers feeling was the warmth of his mum’s hand being pressed against his face as the voices faded to silence. 

***

When Lando awoke, he was immediately blinded by the fluorescents that illuminated the room. He squinted at them, his senses becoming bombarded with input as the sound of voices, footsteps, and beeping filled his ears. 

He couldn’t help but try to curl up, wanting to block all of it out, but immediately hissing in pain as the stitching on his chest pulled. 

Wait, stitching…? 

His eyes dropped towards his chest, only to be met with the traditional pattern of a hospital gown. Panic begins to well in his chest as he catches a glimpse of tubes traveling underneath the garments and disappearing somewhere directly towards his chest. 

He attempts to move a heavy drug-laden arm to uncover his chest, but is stopped by his mum, whose gentle voice and hands interrupt his thoughts. 

“Lando, honey? Are you awake?” 

Lando’s brain can’t do much more than register the fact that it was his mum who spoke. 

It’s then, with a sudden amount of panic, that he realizes a tube has been shoved down his throat. The machine next to him begins to beep wildly as his heart rate skyrockets. 

“Shit, shit,” his mum whispers, reaching for him and trying to soothe him. 

“Oliver, go get a doctor!” she shouts, sending Lando’s older brother out of the room with so much urgency that he sprints. 

Not a minute later, he returns with a doctor who wastes no time in injecting some kind of liquid into the IV that’s been placed in Lando’s hand. 

The effect is immediate as he begins to feel his body calm down, and a sense of calm overcomes him. 

The world fades in and out around him as Lando tries desperately to take stock of his own body, noticing a dull pain around his chest which should concern him more than it currently does. 

At some point, he’s distantly aware of a nurse coming in to ask him ‘yes or no’ questions, but he couldn’t remember any of them if he tried. 

The doctor returns to give his parents a run-down, and Lando is only now aware of the fact that his father is also in the room, along with what appears to be the rest of his siblings. 

Words such as transplant, incisions, recovery, and stay are thrown around the room, but Lando can’t seem to make much sense of them. 

It isn’t until he wakes up an unknown amount of time later that he realizes what happened. 

He had a heart transplant.