and remember, you'll live.

He had trained his patience the same way he had trained himself. With time and dedication. A fragile appreciation that couldn't easily be seen in any conversation or any race. Sure it thinned and yes, at times it broke. But Rome wasn't built in a day. Nor was he. 

It led to a sense of obligation to time itself. The value in what history could provide. How rich experience truly was.  

But that wasn't something Kimi had realised until he met you.  

He could still remember it.  

Pre-season. The sun was out despite the chilly weather and excitement thick with the new regulations in place. He was waltzing down the paddock with Isack and Arvid like had done many a time before. The whispers of a Mercedes domination with every step. He was talking, probably about something useless because nothing would ever compare to whatever you were talking about with Max and Charles just a few metres away.  

It was like time itself had stopped, forcing Kimi to appreciate what was right in front of him. The glimpses of you were brief initially. Yet he could see it. How your hands moved animatedly. The way the sun seemed to hit your eyes in the perfect angle. The crinkles if your smile, wide and etched into your face. And your laugh... God, your laugh, it was as if it had been coated in honey and gold.  

For a second, Kimi thought his heart would stop. He hadn't even met you and yet you had his brain scrambled. Nowhere near as functional as it should be. Severed neuronal links. Miscommunication between each lobe.  

Suddenly it was Charles' voice in the air, signalling for them to come by. "You guys! Come meet ___."  

Kimi braved the perfect smile onto his face, like his knees weren't turning into jelly with each step he took towards you. And the closer he got to you, the more beautiful you got. Was that even possible? Well it was now.  

Charles smiled as the three young drivers reached. "Kimi, Arvid, Isack, this is ___,” he gestured towards you. "You guys don't know her but she used to work back in Red Bull a few years back. Best strategist ever. Went down to Indy though," he grumbled, faking an eye roll.  

Max sighed, shaking his head at the big loss. "And now she's back for you." 

Kimi blinked, chest leaping at the pair of eyes falling to his face. "For me?" He queried with surprised, finger pointing at himself innocently. His gaze dropped to the peak of turquoise and the familiar logo underneath your jacket. No freaking way... 

You simply smiled at the wide brown eyes looking at you, head tipping in agreement. "Yup. Well, Mercedes anyways," you chuckled. 

"You're in safe hands, Kimi," Max pointed out, still slightly bitter. "Serious to God, you'll have the best races this year." 

You rolled your eyes before looking down at your watch. "Okay. That's enough fluffing my ego. I have a meeting to attend. But it was nice meeting you Kimi. I look forward to working with you." 

Kimi watched as you stretched out your hand towards him. He swallowed tightly, fingers hesitantly reaching out to wrap around your hand. For a second, he almost pulled back at the light current passing through his palm. His eyes flickered up, curious as to whether you had felt it or not. But if you did, you didn't show it. He breathed in, smiling quietly. "Nice to meet you too, ___." 

The seconds were far too short, your hand already leaving his as you took a step back. He could practically feel his heart frown while you bidded goodbye. He watched, frozen, while you walked further and further away and yet in his head, you were still right there in front of him.  

Charles turned back, about to bring up how glad he was to have you back when he spotted the dazed look on Kimi's face. It was mystified and warm. Unable to peel away from you. His head shook almost instantly. "Oh no. No, no. Don't even think about it, Kimi." 

Max mended his brows, eyes drifting to the Italian with curiosity. He almost sighed when he realised. "Oh God," he muttered.  

"What?" Kimi said, a feigned innocence coating his voice as he shrugged as Arvid and Isack peeked their heads in confusion.  

"You're too young for her, Kimi," Charles immediately said. 

Max nodded in agreement. "Look, she loves her job. She'll never give you the time of day, okay? People have tried before and failed. She's a closed book. So just forget about whatever you're feeling before you get hurt." 

"Is she single?" 

Max's face fell flat. "Did you not hear what I just sai—" 

"Well, is she?" Kimi queried pressingly. He hoped you were. God, he hoped. But a part of him thought it'd also be a tragedy if you were. Because how dare someone like you have no one to worship you?  

Charles nodded vaguely. "I mean, yeah but—" 

"Then that settles it," Kimi sighed decidedly with a small nod.  

Max blinked, head shaking with disbelief as he took a moment register what was going on. "Do not say we didn't warn you," he grumbled.  

Kimi only smiled quietly. Maybe people had tried before. But those people were not him. He was not raised a quitter. With the elegance of patience, for you, he would have all the time in the world.  

It had all started off small. Seeing you in the garage and Brackley, Kimi had taken the time to learn you. Between every break and every breath, it was you his eyes travelled to, you who he found every excuse to talk to.  

Even as he trained a few floors below you, it was you he thought of when the applied force was killing him. Wondering whether you liked tea or coffee. By the end of the day he had figured out your usual order was espresso with a bit of cream.  

In a time where Kimi usually had his thoughts together, he had found himself overthinking every little thing he did. How he'd look when you entered the room (he had indeed practiced casual poses in the mirror). How he sounded when he spoke (hopefully not too eager). 

And with all of it, he wanted your attention.  

So Kimi laughed a little louder in the room you stood in. Tried a little too hard in every media duty is was assigned, hoping he'd find your eyes staring back. He didn't mind looking stupid if it made you laugh. All while the older drivers shook their heads at him. 

Needless to say, you had found Kimi quite talkative. There always a mix of drivers in motorsports. The minimal talkers, the 'I'm-superior-to-you,' or the conversationalists. And then there was Kimi. His questions were endless and some meaningless.  

As a strategist, do you think you'd survive well in an apocalypse? You'd like to think so. 

Can we come up with a secret code for the radio? You queried what that would even look like. Apparently 'Kimi is handsome' was code for pitting in a lap's time.  

In an apocalypse, if you could bring three things to entertain you, what would it be? What was it with this kid and apocalypses? 

Besides being talkative, Kimi was also... touchy. Was that the right word? You had no idea. Apparently it was an Italian thing according to George. Still, you had almost lost your mind when you had walked into work one morning and found him with your coffee order in hand, running late for a meeting with Toto, inching towards you to leave a quick kiss on the side of your cheeks before leaving.  

Yeah... apparently that was normal.  

Even when the temperatures never seemed to rise, you never seemed to realise, too focused on your work. But Kimi did. He would appear in front of you, warm hands wordlessly grabbing yours.  

"You're freezing," Kimi would exclaim, shaking his head like he was disappointed as he rubbed your hands to bring some heat back into them.  

You swallowed tightly, turning away from your laptop. You shrugged awkwardly, bewildered with what you were experiencing. "Work hazard, I guess." 

And then he'd frown. A day later, you had a pair of gloves all boxed up on your desk with a note saying 'Can't have my favourite strategist cold. - K.' 

Then there was that other day. Where he had called you over to ask a question about the car but noticed how you kept shoving the fabric of your long sleeve up your arms as you tried to answer his query.  

And all Kimi did was nod to your explanation, hands moving without a second thought, slowly folding the fabric over each arm, fingers tips grazing your wrist as did. His ears perked at the loss of your voice in the ear. "What? Why'd you stop?" He'd ask.  

You bit your lip, rigidly pulling your hand away from him. "I can do that myself," you murmured, fingers tightening over where he had been just moments ago.  

Kimi nodded. "I know. I just wanted to," he shrugged casually.  

It was all sweet, you supposed. You couldn't exactly say you were weirded out. His intentions seemed good. Pure. But you had seen your fair share of Italians... were they all really like this? 

If George said so... perhaps they were. So you had resumed your work without thinking about it too much. Kimi was just your overly nice co-worker. That was all.  

But somewhere, somehow, things had changed.  

You had known it the moment it had happened. Where you were sitting down in the Mercedes motorhome, after Kimi's first win. While the other's were celebrating, you were still working. Not because you particularly wanted to, but because a part of you still felt a little out of place. A new team, new people... even after all these years, the celebrating part never seemed to get any less awkward.  

"What are you doing?" 

You blinked, peeling your eyes away from your laptop as the voice that become familiar to you over the past few months. You eyed the heaving figure in front of you with curiosity. "Looking at telemetry data..." You trailed off, brow raising. "What are you doing? Aren't you supposed to be celebrating?" 

Kimi swallowed, inching closer towards you. His hand reached out, shutting the lid of your laptop gently. His eyes flitted to you, a depth of sadness to them. "How can I celebrate when you're not there?" 

You snorted, not really registering the skip of your heart. "You don't need me to celebrate, Kimi," you said pointedly, looking over your messily jotted down notes, even worse to read as the sun set in China.  

"I need you. I need you all the time." 

And there it was. That sudden tightness in your chest as his words rung in your head.  

You snapped your eyes to him, slightly wide. The look on his face was firm. Resolute. No regret lingering. And if you stared a little longer, you could see a warmth to it you had never felt before.  

No. You were imagining it. That wasn't even possible! 

"Well... what are you waiting for?" 

You blinked again, shaking your head from those strange thoughts. "Sorry, what?" You asked, eyes falling to his outstretched hand. You swallowed tightly. God, had the temperature in this room increased? It was awfully hot all of a sudden.  

"Come and celebrate with me," Kimi simply said, fingers dangling in a way that pleaded you.  

You stared quietly. In the short time you had known Kimi, this was probably the first time he had kept some sort of distance between you. Any other day, any other moment you would put good money on the fact he would've just dragged you along. But here he stood, waiting with bated breath.  

And you could hear him exhale with what you could only discern as relief when you slid your fingers onto his palm. You pressed your lips at the small grin on his face, boyish in every aspect.  

"I promise you won't regret it," he breathed. 

You raised your brows, unable to stop yourself from returning the grin. "I'm counting on it." 

"Buongiorno!" Kimi greeted loudly as he usually did when he entered the garage, drifting through the mounds of team members working. All you knew that if he didn't say it, something was seriously wrong.  

His eyes averted to you, another thing he usually did. Routine now to look at you first and then everyone else. You were sat as you usually were. Next to Bono, hyperfocused on your laptop, running numerous models of simulation data.  

"Buongiorno, ___," Kimi announced, resting his elbows on the table, waiting for your response before he went on his merry way to start with some light training.  

You barely moved your eyes off the screen, used to this small meet-and-greet with Kimi by now. "Morning, Kimi," you murmured, leaning in further into the screen.  

He smiled quietly to himself, moving his eyes when he suddenly met Bono's gaze—cautious and reprimanding. He blinked though he kept his smile, undeterred. His race engineer was just one of the many who had been warning him, again and again.  

Kimi breathed in quietly, about to move towards his driver's room when something made him stop in his footsteps. He snapped his back to you. Blinking once. And then twice more. But the sight never changed—marginally  

"Did you cut your hair?" 

You froze at the question, finally moving your eyes from your screen to him. "Um..." Your lips parted as he leaned closer across the table, brown eyes raking over your face carefully. 

"You did," Kimi nodded slowly in approval. "It looks nice." 

Your cheeks warmed, watching Kimi simply walk away without another word. Awkwardly, you flickered your gaze to the raised brows belonging to Bono. You cleared your throat, hands moving rigidly while you spoke, "It was just on the sides. Like a trim..." 

Bono sucked in a sharp breath, opting to say nothing as he turned back to his work. You brows furrowed embarrassingly, hand reaching over to hide your face as you stared at your reflection in your laptop. Your heart paced in your chest, echoing in your ears louder than you could even think.  

Oh my God. 

You yawned tiredly at your screen. You had been at this for hours. The data seemed to pile up with Kimi and George at the forefront of the championship. Your calls had been mostly perfect. However, some had gotten you a strange glance. Mixed with a questionable power unit, things were looking bleak despite being all the wins in your favour.  

Your eyes fluttered with the heavy beckon towards the dark abyss, head threatening to fall onto your laptop. You blinked suddenly, taking in a sharp breath. You patted your cheeks firmly. "Just a little more. One more sheet and I'll go home," you muttered, blinking once again.  

Ideally, you should've done this on your desk. Not the bloody couch in your office. But your feet were sore and the chair had turned immensely uncomfortable. The sacrifice, however, was taking the risk to fall asleep. 

Your ears perked at the abrupt knock on your doorframe, heart lurching out of your chest. You breathed out shakily, moving your eyes from your laptop. It was Kimi. Of course.  

"What are you still doing here?" Kimi sighed, leaning on your doorframe, arms folded and face decorated with a disappointed frown as he peeked through your blinds, spotting the night sky easily. "You need to go home." 

"I will," you maintained, unable to stop the small yawn from escaping your mouth. "I'm almost done," you said.  

He narrowed his eyes at you. Liar. He drew a quiet breath in, steps gentle against the carpet as he bent down next to the couch. His arms reached out to take your laptop away from you.  

"Hey—" 

"Take a nap. Ten minutes and then you can work on it," he stated firmly, putting your laptop on the nearby coffee table, lightly shutting the screen.  

"But—" 

"You look tired," Kimi murmured, brushing his thumb under your eye, soft and gentle with all the worry in the world. As if he was tracing the shadows off of your skin, patient with your sudden silence.  

"I'm not tired," you whispered though your eyes felt heavy and your chest warm. One blink away from falling asleep. Another from thinking this was all a dream.  

It was a simple decision. Taking off his jacket and gently covering you with it, encasing you with a warmth only familiar to him. He smiled quietly, hand moving to pat your head with a fragility that made his own skin burn. "Liar," he murmured, brown eyes watching you tenderly. "Go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up, belle." 

It didn't take long. A minute or two where all your refusals had ceased and turned into soft breaths. Only the sound of your clock accompanied his heartbeats. Like a hushed roar in his chest.  

An ache, really. Heavier as he quietly adjusted one of the couch's pillows underneath your head. He swallowed as you shifted, bringing yourself closer to the pillow and to him. He sighed to himself, moving the loose tresses from your face.  

For the past few months, he had been ignoring everything everyone had said. The taunting reminders from Max. The looks from Charles. The raised brows from George. He thought that if he was undeterred, he wouldn't be affected. But as he sat here next to you, his fear grew at the thought of what he didn't have with you.  

These days it was becoming impossible to detach you from anything. Every thought, every breath, every blink... all he had had become consumed by you. He wasn't sure when what he felt had become so deeply engrained. Far more than the world-stopping glimpse he had when he first saw you.  

He had watched you grow with the team. Watched your guards break down with him. Seen you become nervous because of him. Slowly but surely choose yourself over your work.  

You told stories. You laughed. You lived.  

You were like a constant in his life. Wholeheartedly, you had become the subject of his prayers. The bare bones of his religion. Leaving his soul aching for yours.  

And it wasn't that he was impatient. He could wait. Even if you had told him to come back in ten years, he would do it in a heartbeat. But the idea that this could also all disappear... that terrified him the most.  

Things were beginning to get worse.  

Because there was no part of you that had thought about this when you had signed your contract with Mercedes. That you would be standing here, in front of the bathroom mirror, convincing yourself that some kid was not making you blush and your chest tighten spontaneously throughout the day. No. Not a single part of you.  

But you were.  

It was sickening.  

Something had to be wrong with you.  

Becuase this was not happening. You definitely didn’t like Kimi Antonelli.  

You were just... out of the practice. Yeah. That was it. All these many years dedicated to your work, you had ignored all opportunities of romance. So much you had now become delusional.  

You had even done the maths. That gap... boy, it was more than five. But it didn't matter because this wasn't real. You were imagining things.  

But what if you weren't? 

You hadn't imagined that every time you heard your name come from Kimi's mouth, in a room full of people, it sounded like it was always only meant for you. It was soft yet heavy. Casual yet so intentional. And you had never heard your name spoken that way.  

Or how he memorised every little thing about you. Screw your invisible two-inch trim. He knew your favourite songs, sneakily adding them to the queue in the garage. The sudden bouquet of your favourite flowers that had ended up next to your laptop could've only been done by him. He sat down with you during breaks to play your favourite board game. No one had ever done that for you.  

But worse of all, you didn't know when you had let yourself become an open book.  

And no matter how much your head spun, torn, you couldn't take back what you had spilled. Instead your heart seemed to had grown claws, desperate as it tried to tear out of your chest, reaching towards Kimi.  

But he was so young.  

You sighed so deeply it hurt as you looked at yourself in the bathroom mirror. "Fuck," you grumbled with annoyance, rubbing your stinging eyes harshly. The longer you looked, the more your stomach churned. Perhaps this was better. The disgust rather than the want.  

You nodded, hearing the bathroom door open, reminding you of the reality outside of these four walls. Right. Back to work.  

"Buon—" Kimi paused, brows furrowing at the empty space where you usually sat. He blinked blankly, heart practically frowning at the sight. He turned his head as Bono walked past. "Where's ___?" 

Bono sighed. Of course that was the first thing he'd ask in the morning. What else was he to expect? "In Brackley," he responded flatly, taking his seat next to your empty spot.  

"What?" Kimi queried with disbelief, stepping towards his engineer. He might as well have said someone had died. "Why?" 

Why the hell were you not here in Silverstone? With the team. With him. And why the hell didn't he know about it? 

Bono looked down the bridge of his nose, through his glasses. "She said she wanted to work from there this weekend. Something about being closer to home." 

Kimi narrowed his gaze. "This is Silverstone, Bono. This is home," he deadpanned, hands falling to his side. What the heck was going on? 

"I don't know what to tell you, mate," Bono shrugged. "Now hurry up and get training." 

Kimi pursed his lips, head shaking as he forced his feet to move towards his driver's room. This didn't feel right. Everything about this felt wrong. It was like someone had told him Santa didn't exist. 

Without you, there was a void in the garage. Even the clouds were darkening in the peak of this heatwave. Rain... during a heatwave. Now that'd be the day.  

Kimi shoved his bag in his room, opening his phone without a second thought. He pressed your name in his contacts, letting the call ring throughout the air. He was patient. Even when the ring had turned into voicemail.  

"___... is everything okay? You're not here. But you're always here," he stated the obvious, voice sparse and bleak. "Can you call me back and tell me everything's okay? I just need to know you're fine," he murmured, fingers tightening around his phone.  

Every race you ever strategised, you always gave it a percentage of how wrong it could go. A safeguard. Five percent. That was the maximum amount you allowed. One wrong call that wasn't deterimental. That wasn't race-destroying. 

But as you sat from the Mercedes headquarters, you couldn't tell where the line between wrong and right started and finished.  

Kimi's pole had been dismantled right from the start, dropping him to third position, leaving Charles to lead. And even when he had made it back to P1 once the Ferrari pitted and played the long game, things had begun to fall apart after you had called him in for a pit. Yellow flags and safety cars beyond your wildest imagination.  

But it struck you the most when you heard it. Lap 41.  

"I have something broken in the car." 

It was like your heart had sunk and nausea had hit all at once. Even around you, the silence was thick. As if a single sound would disrupt this moment of hope. A pray that nothing was broken. That this was all a sick joke.  

But it continued between Kimi and Bono while you frantically searched the data with the others. The data made no sense. Numbers slowing down like there was something wrong. Yet, everywhere you looked, there was not a damn thing wrong with the car itself.  

It was a dreading call you had to make after you had rushed your exchanges with your co-workers. Between the car and track limits... "Just... Just tell him to retire the car." 

The silence hit yet again. Even from Kimi. A bitter pill no one wanted to swallow. 

"I can try! I can try to get a point! At least one point!" 

You pursed your lips at the strained voice through the radio. You breathed in deeply, head shaking at the pang in your heart. "He's way past track limits. It’s a five-second penalty if he stays out. Just bring the the car back," you stated firmly.  

But Kimi doesn't listen. Not to Bono. Not to your orders through him. Remaining out, he was desperate. You could almost see it over his car as he drove, rushing to keep his distance from Colapinto beyond five seconds.  

One point. One point. One point.  

You could've sworn you almost threw up with the yellow flags came out again as Max crashed. And with the safety car out and a five second penalty, Kimi's dreams of a single point had diminished just like that.  

You had done almost everything you could have in your apartment. Cleaned, thrown the rubbish out, cleaned again, sorted everything like a maniac, and deep cleaned. But nothing had quite silenced the voices in your head post-race.  

The post-race debrief was a heavy one. Even as you sat in on it from Brackley, the silence was unlike anything you had heard before. A hit to Kimi's championship all because of a mechanical failure. The apologies had been made from the team to Kimi as well. But it hadn't reduced the heavy blow of it all. It was too soon, too raw to accept.  

You sighed as you shifted on your couch, closing your eyes for the umpteenth time in the past twenty minutes. You had tried to sleep it off. A quick mind-numbing nap. But with every minute that passed, you couldn't ignore the increasingly empty void. Like you were missing a certain presence near you.  

Kimi's presence.  

You grabbed the pillow underneath your head and smashed it over your face, groaning with annoyance. This was ridiculous. You were a grown woman upset and torn over some bloody kid.  

What was wrong with you? 

Why couldn't you just separate yourself from this? You had done it before, time and time again. Ignored the numbers slipped onto pieces of papers, brushed off the flirting comments, and shut down any attempts to take you out. What the hell made Kimi so different? 

Knock.  

Knock.  

Knock.  

You leaned forward from your couch, eyeing your door curiously. You stood up with the second round of knocking, sighing tiredly as you walked over. Who on earth was disturbing your meltdown right no— 

"Kimi," you breathed, eyes wide as you opened the door. Your words seemed to get lodged in your throat, stuck with every thought rushing to your head. Why was he here? How did he get here?  

"I... um, I—" you paused at the reddened eyes staring back at you. Like he had been crying. You sighed deeply, shoulders slumping. "I'm so sorry, Kimi. That... That shouldn't have happened to you." 

Kimi swallowed tightly, not saying anything for a moment. His eyes lingered like they always did, ensuring you were in front of him. That you hadn't disappeared like he thought you had.  

"You never called me back." 

You blinked, chest tightening at his words. "I... I silenced my phone when I got into work," you murmured, as though you hadn't watched his name sprawl onto your screen. Like you hadn't listened to his message twice. You sucked in a sharp breath. "Look,  

"Why didn't you call me back?" 

"Kimi—" You interjected with a sigh, stepping back as he took a step forward.  

"I wouldn't have minded if you even said something on the radio," he exasperated, skin still flushed with exhaustion. "Just... something. Anything to say you were here. That you were fine." 

"Kimi," you grumbled under your breath, mind beginning to ache. Your breath shook as he grabbed your hand, the action careful and controlled. 

"___, I don't care if we do whatever this is for five years or ten. As long as you're here with me," he heaved, fingers tightening. The burden on his shoulders had finally begun taking its toll, patience thinner than usual today. He had to have it out today. 

You shook your head, unable to take the weight of what you were able to hear. "Please, don't do this, Kimi," you breathed, hand aching to prick his fingers off of you.  

"No, I have to say this. I... I want to be yours, and I’m trying to be deserving of it. And if you let me, I promise I'll be good," he lamented, brown eyes filled with tears for the second time today.  

Your chest ached, heart skipping in ways that should've made you happy. Not fearful.  

The hurt slashed across his face in a way that tore your heart as you pulled your hand out of his grasp. You chewed your lip nervously, head still shaking. "You're a kid, for crying out loud, Kimi!" You exclaimed, throat tightening. "You have no idea what you want. And I'm certain it's not me. You’re... You're too young for me." 

Kimi blinked at the sentence he had heard again and again in the past few months. He hated it. He hated it with the same amount of passion he liked you.  

"I'm might be young. But I'm not a kid. I'm not an idiot," he whispered sorely, voice cracking. "I know what I'm doing. I know what I want. And its you." 

"You're not thinking this through," you swallowed thickly. "I mean, one day, I'll be like fifty. I don't know... old and used. And you'll be still be young," you murmured with a frown.  

"At least you're thinking about our future. That's a start," Kimi weakly joked, breathing in.  

"Kimi," you chided with a small glare. "I'm serious." 

He sighed, stepping closer towards you, not leaving a gap as he rested his head on yours. His hand reached out to push your hair behind your ear, stopping at the curve of your jaw, fingertips tingling against your skin.  

"I don't care," he whispered, brown eyes holding your gaze without faltering. "Old, young... I want you however you are. You're always beautiful in my eyes. And 'used?' Belle," he clicked his tongue, lips quirking almost with amusement. "I'm not letting you go. You're gonna be stuck with me forever." 

You gave him a small grin, eyes rolling before you paused on the few stray tears that had fallen unbeknownst to you. You sighed, soft pads of your fingers wiping away the damp liquid gently. "Sorry, I made you cry," you murmured, guilt already beginning to fester.  

Kimi grabbed the back of your hand with his and kissed the side of your palm deeply. "Its behind us now," he mumbled, looking back at you with slightly raised brows. "There is an 'us' right?" 

You smiled softly, nodding. "Yeah. I want you too," you said quietly, barely even audible as the heat in your cheeks grew. God, this was strangely humiliating. Like you were a kid with a crush all over again. Except, you were admitting it to someone a lot younger than you.  

"Sorry, what was that?" Kimi asked, teasing grin on his face. "I didn't quite catch that." 

"Ugh, you're awful," you complained loudly, pushing him away from you. "I take it back. I don't like you. I hate you. Despise you in fact. Loathe y—" 

Kimi grinned wider, pulling you by the hand before he pressed his lips against yours.  

Time seemed to slow once again. The world stopping just for the both of you. Your hands fell to his waist, fisting the material of his shirt while his hands rested on your jaw. His nose knocked against yours, head tilting while you parted his mouth with a simple ease, much to your surprise.  

Despite being out of practice, you supposed experience triumphed this one.  

The air in Kimi's lungs seemed to burn, feverishly caught while any thought he once had had melted. Of course he couldn't think. Not when he could feel the tips of your fingers sear through his shirt. Or the smell of your perfume wrap around him so closely he could almost taste it on his tongue.  

You shivered at soft noise falling from Kimi's throat, feeling his hand move to your waist to bring you closer against him. Your skin boiled with a heat unlike any other. Your chest soaring to heights you had never imagined.  

You smiled quietly against his lips, feeling his urgency begin to take over. With a soft chuckle, you pulled away, returning his breath to him. You heaved, eyes grinning at him. "That's enough for now," you teased. 

"Oh come on," Kimi murmured, skin positively flushed. "I could do that forever," he breathed. 

You rolled your eyes, stepping back from him. "Now close the door. You've let all the cold air in," you huffed, turning back to your living room with a blank mind and giddy smile. Jesus Christ... something was definitely wrong with you.  

He sighed, moving to do as you said as his brows furrowed. "What were you doing before I got here?" He queried, clicking the door shut. 

You hummed, shifting on your feet as you turned back towards him. "I was trying to take a nap. But I couldn't," you shrugged. You blinked, narrowing your eyes at him. "Speaking of that... how did you get here? You didn't pester Bono into giving you my address, did you?" 

Kimi scratched the back of his head with a sheepish smile as he took a step forward. "Let's just take a nap together, shall we?" 

"Kimi!" 

It had happened in the blink of an eye. He could’ve sworn it. It was normal. The outlap. The tyres. Turn one was fine. Turn two a little strange. But it the barrier in turn three had ruined it all, leaving him with severe front-wing damage.  

Oscar didn't know what it was. A lapse in judgement? A simple mistake? 

But it had happened. And what could've been pole had suddenly turned into a sore P9. 

The whispers around him had been awfully loud since qualifying. One crash was all it had taken for people to question him. Question how he was racing. How someone like him could even be in Formula One.  

Usually immune to this nonsense, Oscar didn’t think anything of it. But perhaps, somewhere, somehow, his brain had internalised it. And that’s he had done all of it.

The jumpstart that could've beckoned the heavy five seconds or a drive-through. But he had never gotten it, already sliding down the order of mid-field cars.  

But it would've been okay. He could have just continued racing like normal. Try to make it up with a few overtakes. Only if he had ever given himself the chance. But instead, he had crashed.  

Lap one.  

Turn one.  

He had fucking crashed on the opening lap.  

His first retirement since 2023. 

And twenty minutes later, there he was. Sitting behind a wired fence, watching you race amongst the others on his phone, having difficulty swallowing how much this had taken out of his points.  

Even as he sat in the post-race debrief, he couldn’t help thinking how much worse this was than Canada. It was like he had proven everyone’s suspicions right. Like an idiot. Because there was no rivalry to blame. Not with you or Lando. There was only him and his abilities. Only himself to blame.  

How had things become so wrong?  

You gingerly opened the door to Oscar's driver room, sneaking into the McLaren garage with the help of Kim's help. You had heard he had been cooped up in there for quite some time after his debrief which was unlike him. In fact, a majority of this weekend had been uncharacteristic of him. Between Monza and Baku, the pressure had been creeping on the both of you, leaving fewer words exchanged. And now the plethora of messages from his family in your phone certainly didn't quell your worries.  

You peeked your head through the gap of the door, spotting him staring at the ceiling as he threw one of the tennis balls he usually used to train with against it, over and over again. From the outside it looked like not one single thought was going through his head. But you found that quite hard to believe.  

You sucked in a sharp breath quietly, opening the door as quickly as you closed it behind you. If Oscar had heard you, he didn't let on, still throwing the tennis ball at the ceiling.  

Without a word, you took a seat next to him, mulling over the right words to say. It was funny. These things used to be so easy. You could say them without a thought. But these days, it was like you were walking on eggshells.  

Besides, it wasn't like you were in any position to give him advice.  

You had already had one to many meltdowns this season. A majority where Oscar had helped resolve them. You supposed it was only fair you did the same.  

"It's not the end of the world, Oscar," you breathed out after a moment, wincing at how hypocritical you sounded. You had been here before. And those words from Lewis and Oscar had helped only so much after internalising what the anger and annoyance you had felt at yourself.  

"These things happen. It doesn't change anything about you. Or how hard you worked to get here. Things usually get worse before they get better. Don’t let one mistake hold you back," you sighed, chewing on the side of your lip cautiously, eyes flickering between him and the tightened expression on his face. You swallowed thickly, “Pick yourself up and move on." 

Oscar paused, catching the ball in his hand as he spotted your hesitant hand struggling to reach out to comfort him in his peripheral. It had been like this since Monza. Since you had both woken up the next morning, in each other's arms. Because "it's just sleeping" had turned into something more. Intimate. Vulnerable. All of the things that scared you, leaving you backing away. Like you were caught between your heart and your mind and if you took one more step, you’d do something that would change everything.  

He bit his lip, mind clouded with an array of thoughts. "Don't do that," he murmured, jaw clenching.  

You blinked at his first words to you. "Do what?" 

"Treat me like that," Oscar muttered, nose almost scrunching with a hurtful disgust. "Like you're forcing yourself to not care more. I hate it." 

Your fingers curled back tightly, resting on your lap while you took a moment to recollect your thoughts. "You understand what I mean though... right?" 

He ignored your words, resting the ball on the table in front of him. "If you want to care, then care. There's no one here but us. Stop holding back," he murmured, finally turning to look at you, hand moving to rest over yours.  

"Oscar," you breathed the warning tiredly, taken aback by the softness in those brown eyes while your fingers shook underneath is. He was killing you; did he know that? "Can you be serious for a moment?" You huffed, pulling your hand back.  

"I am being serious," Oscar retorted simply, eyes staring where your hand had just been before sighing. "I know that it's just one retirement. I know that the world's still spinning regardless—" 

"Do you?" You queried, brow raised. "Is that why you're cooped up in here and Kim looks like he's about to have a nervous breakdown outside?" 

Oscar's lips almost quirked in amusement. Almost. He stared at you for a moment. Not just as someone he liked. But as someone he valued. Yes. Whatever he would say, he expected you would give it to him straight. 

"A barrier at turn three. A goddamn jumpstart. And an opening lap crash. All in one weekend. If that's not stupid, then what is?" He asked, defeat apparent on his face.  

You mended your brows at his logic. "Oscar, you know what the sounds like to me? A series of bad luck. Nothing more, nothing less. Could’ve happened to anyone. Me. Lando. But just because it happened doesn't mean the race is over. Seven races left, Piastri. If you let this one weight you down, you might as well hand me the trophy on a silver platter. And you know how I feel about that." 

Oscar rolled his eyes, finally cracking a small smile. "Has anyone ever told you you’re a terrible motivational speaker?" 

You glared at him playfully, pushing his shoulder. "Can't believe this is the thanks I get," you muttered, moving to stand up from the couch.  

Oscar's hand swiftly moved to grab your wrist, keeping you stagnant for a moment. His chest warmed at the sudden speed of your pulse beneath of his fingers, watching the nervousness enter your eyes. He tightened his grip lightly. “Thank you," he murmured. 

You breathed scarcely through your constricted lungs. This was ridiculous. You weren’t seriously melting over this... this? 

You smiled tightly, nodding rigidly as your heart paced in your ears. "Always, Osc." 

"Catherine, why are you looking at your screen like that?" Jenson slowly queried from across the room, spotting the disgruntled look on her face. It was expression she usually gave when something wasn’t going her way.  

Catherine sighed, leaning back in her chair. They had been sitting in the Mercedes' motorhome post-race for a while now, monitoring the headlines and replying to interviews and outlets on your behalf where necessary. But between the questionably reputable journalists and the gossip pages, she had found something out of her control.  

"They're talking 'bout Oscar and her again," she murmured, eyeing her laptop with dismay.  

Jenson raised his brow. "You mean the same stuff they've been spewing in the past few months? You know no one's really paying attention to them. It's just clicks and views, Cath. You know that," he sighed, looking back over the replay of your race that had led you from P5 to P2 and left Carlos Sainz bagging Williams' first podium in years.

Catherine bit her lip. "This is a little different," she muttered, making Jenson look up again.  

These weren't just flashy headlines designed to grab your attention. No... these were eagle-eyed and borderline obsessive fans with way too much time on their hands.  

TikTok after TikTok, photo after photo, post after post—all pointing out the differences in attitudes between you and Oscar.  

There was goddamn timeline.  

A timeline of how your interactions with each other had changed over time. Pointing out how ‘friendly’ Oscar had become at a certain point. By what point you had started distancing yourself from him. And how thick the tension seemed to be between the both of you right now.  

Your cautious glances. The intentions in Oscar's movements. How once upon a time he used to walk metres away from you as a friend and now he was glued to your side. Leaked photos from your aunt's weddings. This list was exhaustive.  

And as much as Catherine hated to admit it, she could see it. Something had changed between you two. More than the photos she had swindled off that 'fan' from Greece. Somewhere during summer break, a measure had been taken that had resulted in this.  

She had seen it firsthand herself. How often Oscar seemed to wait for you after almost everything, trying to catch a second of your time. How you tried to steer clear of him like you were afraid you would do something you'd regret, asking her to keep the McLarens away from her in every media duty possible.  

Jenson furrowed his brows, now watching and reading everything over Catherine's shoulder. "You think he told her?" He asked.  

Catherine swallowed quietly, eyeing the evidence in front of her. "I think it might be a little worse than that." 

Jenson sighed. Knowing you, there was only one way you were going to let this go. The one where you inevitably hurt yourself and everyone else around you. "Do we dispel it secretly? Maintain they’re good friends? I mean... they are if you think about it."  

Catherine frowned at her screen. "I don't know if that's good enough," she sighed.  

It was her job to balance this. How much good and how much bad could come out of you and Oscar being together? As much as she cared for you, her first priority was your career. And if she was right, she could think of a few people who wouldn’t be particularly pleased with this notion.  

You eyed the Netflix cameras panning over you and the distance between you and Toto's office. The smile on your face was purposefully timid as the boom microphone hovered above your head. 

"I think I'm gonna have to leave you guys out here," you sighed, slowly stepping backwards towards backwards towards your boss' door, twisting the knob. Looking back at the cameras, you mouthed, "Pray for me." 

Turning on your foot, you closed the door behind you, giving your best smile to Toto. "Morning, Toto," you greeted as sweat littered your skin. However, not because of the Singaporean heat although it was pretty goddamn humid. But purely because of this moment right here.  

This meeting was the sixth out of the many negotiations to come between you and your seat for 2026. People had been questioning it as all the other drivers began confirming their contracts towards the middle of the season. Where on earth was yours? Your only consolation was that George hadn't signed his either.  

Things had slowly started off with Jenson and Catherine putting their step forward. The signs seemed positive—additions and corrections for a new contract and new sponsors backing you after putting so much work into your socials.  

The most recent was Toto calling a meeting with you. The bad part? Only you. No Catherine or Jenson for any support.  

The scale was either about to tip in your favour or in the hands of every non-supporter you had. 

"Morning, ___. Please. Take a seat," Toto gestured to the chair in front of him.  

You cleared your throat, nodding as you awkwardly slid onto the chair, resting your sweaty hands on your lap, pressing down on your jittery knee. You breathed in quietly, watching him assemble the papers in front of him.  

It was a strange thing having Toto as your boss. For as long as you could remember, he was one of the many father figures you had growing up since he brought you along to Mercedes at the young age of twelve. You knew his own children well, became family with Lewis, Nico, and George. Even Kimi and Dorianne as they came in. The memories you all shared you were fond of. Priceless really.  

But sometimes you forgot that somewhere in his head he viewed you as a business prospect. A product. A cash cow. Whatever.  

Your first year in Formula One, however, had heavily reminded you. Toto had become far stricter. The way he talked, less relaxed than before. Guiding turned into chiding if you had done wrong. In some shape or form, he had lost the spark that drew you to Mercedes in the first place.  

And now you were here. Trying to ensure you were appeasing him for a seat next year.  

"So," Toto started, capturing your undivided attention as he brought a leg over the other. "The board has talked a lot about your seat. We've all been impressed to say the least. You've learned the car quickly. Your performance is exceptional and we can see that in your results. You are reliable and consistent. You've brought many sponsors with you." 

You nodded slowly, chewing on the inside of your cheek while your stomach horribly churned. Fuck. You felt sick. As though a doctor was about to come to you and say this was the end of the line for you.  

Toto raised a brow at your pale face, chuckling quietly to himself. It was like you had seen a ghost. "___, breathe. You're leading a championship in your debut year for crying out loud." 

You blinked rapidly, too nervous to even think with these power dynamics at play. "So... I don't... what does that mean for me?" 

Toto smiled gently, wrinkles apparent on his face. "There are a few things to work out with Catherine and Jenson. As well as the new regulations coming up. But it is all positive talk. You will drive for us next year." 

You breathed out heavily, feeling the weight on your shoulders immediately disappear. You couldn’t help but smile thankfully, thin sheen of tears glossing over your eyes. You were doing this for another year! You could almost kiss the floor you were that happy. God, you couldn't believe it. This was almost as sickening as your first signing.  

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," you sighed out, air all of a sudden feeling fresh and clean. "Seriously. I can't tell you how much that means to me. I promise I won't let you down." 

"But..." 

Oh come on, you thought. Why was there always a pause like this? Why couldn't the universe just be happy for you?  

Toto pursed his lips, fiddling with his thumbs. "I have a concern," he stated. 

You mended your brows. "Okay...?" You trailed off, mind instantly trying to search for any possible inkling as to what he was talking about.  

A sharp inhale disrupted the tension in the air. "You and Oscar." 

You snapped your eyes back to him, wide in disbelief. And in the matter of seconds, the weight had returned to your shoulders. Your heart sank. You knew it. Your biggest fear had come true.  

No, no, no. 

You swallowed tightly, head automatically shaking. "I-I don't know what you've heard but I swear there is nothing—" 

"___, I may be a little old but I'm not blind," Toto heaved, pointedly looking at you. He had seen the videos and posts here and there through his communications teams. Witnessed it in briefings or in passing. Even if there was nothing officially, there was something.

You winced, rubbing your face as your foot began to tap nervously against the floor. Fuck... this wasn’t good.  

He leaned forward, forearms resting on his table. He smiled tightly. "Look, I know how this works. It happened to Susie and I and it was such a struggle at the time. People frowned upon it and we were lucky to survive. But you're in Formula One, ___," he exasperated, concern flickering over his face.  

"The eyes on you, the critics, the board... none of them are easy. They're waiting for you to slip up. To confirm their beliefs and fears. I don't want to play into their games. I've spent a lot of years and money fighting for you to be here. And so have you. So I need you to make a decision. Tell me what you want. You commit to it and we'll support you no questions asked. We'll fight against whatever comes out. Or move forward without it and play into the board's hands." 

You sucked in a shaky breath, swiping your palms on your lap. You could only think of one word.  

Fuck.  

"Okay, fan question for Oscar—if you could pick anyone on the grid other than Lando—" 

"Obviously," Lando interjected with a smug smile, feeling the crowd chuckle along with him.  

"—to be your teammate, who would you pick and why?" The interviewer continued with a grin.  

Oscar looked out at the Singaporean crowd, sweating and sticky in this sweltering heat. All factors to make his brain melt. Yet the answer was immediate, so innate he didn’t even have to think about it. "____." 

Lando held in his grin as the crowd cheered almost teasingly. He could tell Oscar was barely thinking about this and the repercussions were going to be hell for the communications team. He could almost see Sophie backstage, facepalming at the mere answer. Wondering where on earth all her media training had gone. Debating how much she cherished her job compared to Oscar's happiness with every word that slipped out of his mouth these days.  

And if you were here, God... that'd be the sight. Lando could practically feel how you'd brave a stoic face despite the obvious redness in your cheeks. Trying to move on casually by bringing up literally anything else.  

Oh how he wished you were here for that simple amusement.  

"___. Good choice. That was a pretty quick answer, Oscar. What is it about ___ that you like in a teammate?" The interviewer queried, small smile on her face, trying not to goad the anticipating crowd.  

Oscar exhaled in thought, holding the mic up to his lips. Okay... it wasn't like he actually had to think about it. But he wasn't so stupid to play into the hands of the expecting mob of people, in person or on screen. 

 "Well, she's ridiculously smart and talented. So obviously great teammate qualities," he chuckled.  

"Wow... I really feel the love over here," Lando added dryly, giving his teammate a bland look, eliciting a laugh from everyone.  

Oscar rolled his eyes. "Um, she's hardworking and kind. Funny too. So a comedian on the team sounds pretty nice too. I just... she's my best friend. She's just great, you know? Who wouldn’t want her as a teammate?" He smiled, adjusting his cap as the heat poured into his cheeks.  

Okay... maybe he was a little stupid.  

That wasn't his fault. You made it a little difficult for him to think straight.  

But it wasn't anything he couldn't recover from. As long as he kept his mouth shut (particularly your name out of his mouth) and whatnot, he'd be fine. 

Lando pressed his lips together, nodding sardonically while the crowd awed. "Are you okay, Oscar? Do you need any water? A fan perhaps? You look flushed," he said, feigned concern coating the heavy tease, holding out the water bottle sitting on the fan stage.  

Oscar bit his lip. Unless... of course... he was to have a teammate who was equally as stupid as him.  

Oscar gave a brief sideways glare to his friend, reluctantly taking the bottle from his hand. He cleared his throat, looking out at the crowd. "Yeah. The heat never ever gets any easier when we come here," he sighed, uncapping the bottle.  

Lando grinned to himself, moving the mic away from him. "Smooth," he commented under his breath, tipping his head to the side.  

Oscar refrained from giving another glare, turning back to the interviewer. "So... the next question?" 

"Are you going to look like that for the rest of the weekend or..." Lando trailed off, half-smiling at the grandstands, waving as the truck moved around the track. He looked back at his teammate, spotting the blank expression on his face and sighed. "Oh come on... I was playing around. You make it really easy whenever ____ is mentioned. See?" He pointed at the glower he recieved.  

Oscar rolled his eyes, turning back to the shouts of the fans. "I thought Sophie said to keep me out of trouble," he retorted. "Not be the trouble." 

Lando hummed to himself, patting Oscar's shoulder. "Must've misheard that one," he grinned, flickering his gaze to your figure standing between Isack and Ollie, all three of you laughing as you pointed at what one could only describe as a creative George Russell costume.  

"___!" 

Oscar's eyes widened at his teammate. "What are you doing? Stop!" He hissed under his breath, nudging Lando desperately but to no avail. The second call of your name had you turning around. Oh God... 

You raised your brows, sucking in a sharp breath as you took a few steps across the platform. A moving vehicle and you as the passerby... not the greatest combination. "What?" 

Lando held out his digital camera towards you. "Can you play admin for a moment?" 

Oscar looked over to Lando bleakly. Had he really just heard those words come out of his mouth? 

You pursed your lips, gingerly picking out the camera from his hand. "Wow... they're really putting you guys to work, huh?" You chuckled, clicking the on button, letting the lens lengthen.  

"Lando..." Oscar started, muttering under his breath while you fidgeted with the settings, evidently unfamiliar with them. "I'm going to kill you." 

Lando pressed down his smile, taking a step back to rest against the railing. "I am going down in history as the best wingman ever," he responded discreetly, nodding as you confirmed the few odd buttons with him.  

"Okay," you breathed, adjusting the camera, trying to get the both of them in frame. Squinting through the eyepiece, you snorted at the vast differences in Lando and Oscar's poses— a wide grin versus folded arms. "Brooding. That's a good look, Osc. Do you practice that in the mirror or?" 

The tips of Oscar's ears reddened with embarrassment, folded arms falling to the sides awkwardly. "Shut up," he muttered, glaring at his body of his teammate lightly shaking with amusement. He cleared his throat, forcing a polite smile onto his face, brown eyes flitting between you and the lens.  

You peeked your head from behind the camera. You tapped the lens. "Over here. The both of you," you grumbled.  

"Aw... that's so nice of her to cover for you, Oscar," Lando teased quietly.  

Oscar kept his smile pinned. "Your last breaths are being taken right now," he threatened with gritted teeth.  

Your face contorted with the uttermost concentration, pressing down on the button as you finally found one redeemable angle for these idiots. The shutter went off with ease. "Okay! Got it," you smiled, handing the camera back to Lando.  

"Thank you," Lando said, overly appreciative as he took the camera, instantly clicking back to the captured photo.  

You blinked at the narrowed gaze from the British driver. As if he was having difficulty looking at the photo you had just taken. "What's wrong?" 

"Nothing... just... I guess I know why you’re a driver and not a photographer," Lando shrugged, eyes clumsily looking back at you.  

You glared at Oscar's poorly covered laugh. Not even those cute bunny teeth widely beaming could save him. You breathed in calmly, giving him a sickly-sweet smile. "Would you like to do it better then, Lando?" You asked, passive dryness heavily loaded in your voice. 

"Sure!" 

It took a matter of seconds to have Lando pushing you right next to Oscar, leaving you pressed up against one another, squished and baffled. "I... what is going on?" You sputtered, wide eyes flickering between Lando with his camera and Oscar.  

Oscar pursed his lips. "The best wingman in history?" He whispered in disbelief.  

"What?" You snapped your head to him with confusion.  

"Alright! Enough looking at each other. Over here, kids," Lando called out, positioning the camera lens onto you. "Watch and learn." 

You held your breath, feeling Oscar's arm stretch behind you, only centimetres away, hugging the truck's railing. Your eyes darted to the natural, boyish smile sprawled across Oscar's face, chocolate eyes on the camera while your cheeks burned.  

You blinked, moving your gaze towards the lens, instead focusing on the mended brows belonging to Ollie and Isack, reflective expressions evident on Isack, their faces as they watched the both of you. Oh God, no... you could see it. Their thoughts forming. One idea connected to another. Nerve to nerve. 

No, no, no. 

Your head began to shake, trying to nip the notion in its bud but Lando seemed to have other ideas.  

"___, say Singapore!" 

Oh for fuck's sake. 

You smiled tightly, directing your eyes to the lens, hoping nothing about your expression exhibited the churn of your stomach, the searing of your arms pressed against one another, or the skipping beats echoing in your chest.  

You hoped everything about this looked like what it was. what is had to be. Two long time friends achieving their dreams.  

Lando grinned through the eyepiece, finger pushing down on the button. "Perfect," he stated, not even bothering to look at the fine art he had created as he pushed the camera back towards your feverish face. "Your turn." 

Training for Singapore often occurred months in advance. Between the concrete buildings, incessant heat, and the humidity, it was once of those tracks were keeping an eye on your health was necessary as the temperature in the cockpit increased with every lap.  

You had done your dues way beforehand. Monitored your oxygen levels as you trained. Increased the layers of clothing your wore as you did. Spent an ungodly amount of time in saunas. Anything to acclimate to the heat.  

Your biggest commitment was convincing the FIA to let you join the F1 Academy in Singapore as a wildcard last year. No one was going to let you do a practice in Singapore due to the conditions alone. But a bit of back-and-forth negotiations with the FIA had let you gain some experience on the track.  

It was a whirlwind, to say the least. Wet races, reverse grids, and crashes on every other lap. Despite winning both races, the experience you had gained definitely had some holes. 

But boy, you had quickly learned how difficult Singapore was.  

You had struggled in the F1 Academy car. Overheating, struggling to breathe, visor doused with humidity.  

So the team's concern was with you naturally. Japan had been hotter than you expected. A forced change of clothes by time you had gotten to the press conference to stop you from passing out. Saudi, Bahrain, and the heatwaves from Europe... There was no telling what Singapore would do to you in a Formula One car.  

At first, you thought the practices were alright. While the heat was never going to go away, you thought it was manageable. Perhaps because you weren't required to try as hard. It was practice after all.  

But then qualifying came. And by Q2, you were having difficulties. Not like the McLarens which seemed to have taken damage on their performance. Instead, you were more disoriented, throat heavily parched by the end of each quali lap. And while you should've thanked the Gods or whoever that your car was doing well, by the end of your pole-defining lap, you were exhausted.  

You could only pray you made it alive by the end of this race.  

"If you are tuning in late, we are in round eighteen of the Formula One World Championship. Here, in the Marina Bay circuit. Lap 32 where ___ has been leading the race exceptionally from pole, pushing the car to its limit after staying clear of McLaren's mess behind her. However, the Dutchman has caught up to her for the first time in this race. Even with a tyre off-set, the Mercedes needs to be cautious." 

You eyed the familiar colours of the Red Bull behind you, three seconds back in your mirror as you turned around the track, chest heavy as though you had left a pile of dumbbells on it.  

"Keep pushing," Bono's voice reminded through the radio.  

You swallowed hard, sweat trickling down almost every crevice. You had already drunk most of your water, which in hindsight was your biggest mistake so far. And now... now you had Max Verstappen behind you. The cherry on top of you ever needed on.  

"A mistake from the Red Bull! Verstappen almost loses it in the barriers, locking up and giving room for ___ to breathe." 

"Okay. Max's has locked up. You have a 4.7 second lead. No time to relax just yet. Head down now." 

Your eyes hung over the track, half-focused and half-hazed as you jammed your foot down on the pedal. Your lips felt dry with every breath you struggled to take. As though all the water from your body had been expelled out of you, leaving you like a dry sponge in the cockpit.  

You could barely respond to the radio, choosing to conserve the limited air you had circulating around you. You had no idea how hot it was right now. Your guess was around thirty-seven degrees. The tropical humidity so thick that even your blinks were timed in the fear of sweat dripping down your eyelids and eyelashes.  

You grimaced as the rear of Stroll's Aston Martin. Lapped cars... you already hated them enough. But the rage felt in Singapore was unlike any other. That was exactly what you needed. Sweat. Heat. And dirty goddamn air. 

New regulations this, new regulations that. How about a horn for the backmarkers? Because right now, you were all for it.  

The force of every turn seemed press on you even further as you passed every lapped car with far more effort than necessary. Bono's message that Max was struggling should've eased you, but your brain fog was far too thick.  

You were losing time with all these cars. Why wouldn't they just move? 

"Focus, ___. Not too long left." 

You blinked at the sound of Toto's voice on the radio, mind momentarily flashing back to the stakes at which you were driving. All these wins and podiums so you could come here again next year.  

By the last lap, you weren't breathing. You hadn’t realised it. Holding your breath for the entire minute and forty seconds, lungs burning at the same level your skin had been for sixty-one laps. The fireworks in the sky mixed with the colourful lights all around, blurry in your vision. 

You didn't bother for a victory lap. Muscles too tired to even think about it. You peeled into parc fermé, legs shaking as you struggled to remove your wheel and get out of the car. It took almost everything to get to the weighing scale, finishing off the mandatory checks. 

By the time you had neared the short stump where your cap and water rested, your legs had given out. You sat on the burning concrete, short of breath, fingers teeming to reach the water bottle. Not to drink quite yet. But to pour anywhere your body begged for it.  

Your head pounded, ears dipping in and out of the chaotic chatter and cheers around you. You breathed heavily, lungs trying to take all the fresh air they could while your stomach churned unhappily.  

You blinked at the tap on your shoulder, head lifting from the ground. The white uniform blared brightly, leaving your hand reaching to retrieve whatever sponsored watch it was this time.  

"___?" A voice called. A team member dealing with bring your car up from the ground and onto the podium, concern splashed across their face. "Are you gonna be able to get to the podium? ___?” 

You close your eyes for a moment. Tuning every breath in with the air. Remembering the weight of the ground underneath you. The people watching you. The conversation you had had with Toto just days ago.  

"___?" 

You opened your eyes, smile tight on your face. "I'll be fine." 

Oscar smiled tightly as George passed him in the media pen, patting his shoulder, eyes fixated on the screens behind him, showcasing the podium for the weekend. It was a fancy thing. Your car all in the middle. Lights everywhere. Colours bright against the Singaporean night sky. It almost made the fact he was melting while doing interviews bearable.  

He would've bet good money that this was the only time you wished you had champagned sprayed against you. Although it looked like you had already, loose tresses stuck to your face as you held up the trophy to the crowd.  

The proudness swelled in his chest. To win was a feat of in itself. But in Singapore... he had nothing but respect.  

He sighed quietly, rubbing his sweaty face as the cameras officially panned away from you. To say he was slumped was an understatement. All he could think about was the ice bath he would get after this disastrous race.  

Cold ice... no one disturbing his peace... maybe he could convince Kim to get some of those sponsored energy drinks. 

"Oscar," Sophie reminded, gesturing to move up a little while he waited for some more of the interviewers to become free.  

He sniffled, nodding, forcing his tired legs to move. God, even one step was painful. Think ice bath, think ice bath, think ice bath— 

"Are you sure she's okay?" 

Oscar blinked, ears perking at George's voice. He furrowed his brows, turning his body, confused and intrigued.  

"I have no idea," Charlotte, his press officer, sighed. "They were saying she looked pale by the time she got out of the car. Looked like she almost blacked out and then all of a sudden she said she was fine. Still... she was stumbling to the podium," she muttered under her breath, head shaking.  

George frowned, eyes darting around, cautious of cameras nearby as he waited. "She hasn't been feeling well after every practice too. She threw up after quali," he mumbled. "Singapore's too much for her." 

"Marcus said she even held her breath for the last lap," Charlotte added. 

George's eyes widened. "The whole lap?" It wasn't a rare thing to do. Every now and then, drivers would find themselves holding their breaths without knowing it. Too focused to realise. And the force didn't help.  

But to do it in Singapore... 

Charlotte nodded. "Catherine's trying to get her out of the press conference. Don’t think she’ll survive it without some electrolytes." 

"Forget that. She needs the bloody medical bay," he huffed with disbelief. "Can we tell them to do that?" George queried.  

Charlotte opened her phone in a heartbeat. "Yup, on it." 

Sophie pressed her lips together, having watched every single micromovement of Oscar's face in the past few minutes. She put a hand on his shoulder, comforting. "She's off the podium. She’s okay for now. If you're gonna lose it, then lose it somewhere else." 

As harsh as it sounded, the last thing anyone needed was some dramatic headlines and theatrical clips for Netflix. They were like vultures, waiting for moments like these.  

And it wasn't like Oscar was the only one concerned. George was upset. Even from here, she could see other press officers update some of the other drivers. Ollie and Isack's eyes wide. A frown on Lewis' face. But take a guess as to who's name would print first when the news came out? 

You had been sitting in this makeshift bathtub for as long as you could remember. An hour? More? You weren't quite sure. Everyone had left you alone, lingering outside. All you had been doing was sitting and drinking. Electrolytes, juice, water... anything that would expel the heat from your body and bring your blood sugar back up. 

At some point, you had decided to get out. There was no more ice to be added, water the same temperature as your body. To say you felt better was an understatement. It had felt like you had been brought back from the drink of death.  

Even as you dried yourself, fresh clothes sticking to your skin almost immediately, you wondered what next year could possibly even bring. You had agreed to the new contract, the signing next week. How on earth were you going to do this all again next year? You were going to need new lungs by the next race at Marina Bay.  

Your brows furrowed at the sudden clamour outside, voices rising. Not extensively but even from inside, you could tell it wasn't good.  

Inching towards the door, you were tempted to open it. But it seemed someone had thought of it before you.  

You blinked with surprise at the papaya-cladded figure heaving in front of you. Your ears perked at the click of the door closing. "Oscar," you breathed with a small smile. "What are you doing here? Didn't think you'd steal our secrets so obviously," you snorted. 

"Do you have any idea how mad at you I am right now?" Oscar asked, incredulous look stretched over his face. A bleak chuckle fell from his lips. “Because I am so mad at you right now." 

You pursed your lips. Oh... okay. That's how this was going to go. "Are you sure? Because I feel like 'mad' is kind of a strong word. Upset, maybe?” You scratched the back of your neck awkwardly, hoping to diffuse the situation as best you could.  

"I swear to—" 

"—I feel like what really matters is that I'm here and well. And like that we both completed the race! Let's focus on the positives," you smiled tightly, putting your thumbs up with a level of enthusiasm that clearly didn't appease him.  

Oscar stepped forward, swallowing thickly. "What were you thinking? Why are you always jeopardising yourself?" He asked, shaking his head with disbelief.  

Right... Because this wasn't the first time you had done something like this. You had fallen sick in Saudi. Come out of karting races with nosebleeds. Finishing races with a sprained hand from the gym, swearing him or Dorianne and Paul to secrecy, hoping Alia or Catherine would never find out.  

All to achieve your dreams. 

You pinched your nose, breathing out slowly. "Just forget about it, Oscar. It's over, okay?"  

There was no use crying over spilt milk. You had made enough stupid decisions this weekend. You didn't want this argument to be another one of them. 

Your throat tightened at the feel of his hand slipping into yours, chest constricting with the depth of concern in his eyes. God, did he have to look at you like that? It made you feel. And that was your biggest problem. 

"You don't always have to finish a race, ___! Sometimes it's okay to just stop and say you can’t do it!" Oscar exclaimed, voice low and strained. 

Pulling your hand from his grasp, you sighed. "That's not an option for me, Osc." 

He pursed his lips. "Don't... do that to yourself. There’s always an option," he murmured. "Tell me. You know you can tell me anything. Tell me and I'll try and help." 

You weren't sure what ticked you off the most. Perhaps how naively he had said it. Or the timing of it all. Between the utter nonsense that wasn’t technically nonsense in the media and your contract negotiations, this landed poorly. Or maybe you were still a little lightheaded from the race. Post-race adrenaline or something. 

But the words had come out before you could even really think about them. 

"You aren't the only thing going on in my life right now. Have you thought about that, Oscar?" 

Oscar blinked, a mixture of surprise and hurt flashing through his eyes. His lips parted around nothing, brain unable link any neuron—a complete disconnect between his heart and mind.  

You sucked in a sharp breath, guilt immediate as the pang in your heart. You despised this feeling. Being the cause of someone's pain. Especially his.  

"God, I'm sorry. You're right... I'm not in the best state right now. I-I just need some rest," you nodded, smiling tightly. 

He tipped his head slowly, foot moving back hesitantly, eyes darting around the room. "Yeah," he agreed quietly. "You should rest." 

The sound of the door closing seemed to click louder than before, leaving a rebounding echo in your ears. And when just moments ago you felt perfectly fine, you stood alone, nerves rattled and chest tight.  

You rubbed your temples, head flat on the table as the plane seemed to roar underneath you. Your head ached, stomach churning with the moving night skies outside. God, you just wanted this to be over. Home couldn't come faster.  

"Here." 

You winced, tilting your head up just a smidge to see Ollie's fingers pushing a pack of gum towards you. Smiling gently, you swiped the pack, opening the foiled piece. "You're a life savior," you thanked, minty flavour dissolving into your mouth seconds later. 

Ollie sat down in front of you, quiet and patient as you managed to sit back fully, head splitting a little less. "Feeling any better?" 

You smiled tiredly. "A little. But I’m sure it’s nothing some good sleep can't fix," you sighed, folding your arms. "That being said, let's refrain ourselves from Singapore talk." 

He pursed his lips, eyes squinting as though he was in suspicious thought. "Does that mean Oscar talk is on the cards?" 

You blinked blankly. You should've known the damn parade was going to come back and bite you in the ass. Especially because of someone like Ollie, never quite the person to back down from a little teasing in all your years of knowing him.  

"I specifically shook my head and glared at you. What do you think that means?" You retorted, headache beginning to ease with the presence of a new distraction.  

"'Ollie, please don't tell anyone about us?’” He repeated with a cheeky brow. "I mean, I knew you guys were close but—" 

"There is no 'us,'" You groaned, throwing his packet of gum at him. "We're just friends." 

Friends who got flustered next to one another. Friends who slept in the same bed together. Friends who had kissed one another.  

Ollie narrowed his eyes, leaning forward across the table. "See. That right there. That face. That tells me that's not true," he pointed at the clear flush of red on your cheeks.  

You glared at him the same way you had done earlier on, settling back in your seat. "There is no us. That has never been an option for me," you said, uttering the similar words you had told Oscar, praying that the more you said it, the more truth it would hold.  

"That was never an option for you then or you mean you won't let it be an option for you now?" Ollie retorted.  

You sucked in a sharp breath, chewing slowly while you scrutinised him.  

There it was. Evidence that Oliver Bearman was indeed one of the most annoying people you knew. The type that claimed honest was the best policy under guise of brutal candour.  Had he ever heard of a white lie? 

"Ollie, come on," you exasperated, eyes darting at the raised brows of Esteban and George across the plane. You smiled tightly, looking back at Ollie. "When have you ever seen this work? There isn’t a universe where this works. We just got our seats. I have way too much on the line to delve into... that." 

"So you do like him," he deduced with a satisfied nod.  

"Oll—ugh," you grumbled, frustrated with the stupid grin on his face as the heat surfaced to your skin. "I don't," you muttered through clenched teeth. 

A laugh fell from Ollie's mouth, far too amused for your liking. He sighed, leaning back into his seat, fingers clasped. "Okay, hypothetical scenario," he started, giving you a pointed look when he spotted the dreary expression on your face. "You get together—" 

"Not a chance." 

"It's a hypothetical," Ollie deadpanned, giving you a small glare. "Anyways, you're together. Will there be a few hiccups along the way? Sure. Will some people absolutely hate it? Yes, of course. But you could also absolutely love it. Why deny something you would both enjoy? You'll never know if you don’t try. And when you don’t, years later l, you’ll be old and full of regret, thinking, 'Why didn't I just do it?'" 

You pursed your lips. Well, if that wasn’t motivating you had no idea what was. "To be old and regretful... sounds like the dream," you stated dryly, shifting your eyes to the plane window.  

Ollie's eyes flitted over you with annoyance. He had met stubborn people before. You weren't usually one of them. But when you set your mind to it... you were the absolute worst. 

It was silent for a moment, leaving you to believe Ollie had finally given up on you. Only the chatter of your teammates and staff filling the background. But soon enough, you heard the British voice filter into the air.  

"Look, I mean this with all the kindness in my heart and maybe I'm speaking out of turn, but if you genuinely think your seat can disappear over this then you don't recognise your own worth. A rookie with race wins and podiums and now a championship leader. No one cares about you and Oscar as much as you think." 

And now you were like rabbits. It was the only way to put it. Everywhere, at any given time, you were being whisked away somewhere by someone.  

Isack in the gym, convincing himself that fucking you stupid burned far more calories and worked out way more muscles than any workout his trainer would give him. 

Gabi having you in his driver's room, desperately needing to feel your mouth around his cock, risking everything through those thin walls. 

Kimi sneaking into your hotel room when he found out how bloody good your tits looked in your pyjamas.  

And Ollie who would pull you aside after his media duties, making up any excuse to be inside you. To touch you. Feel you. Though you were sure he didn’t really need any.  

And when you all came together... it was an artwork of mess. Hours upon hours of mess. Soaking sheets. Sweaty skin. Sounds beyond your wildest dreams. Limits tested. Kinks discovered.  

Things, however, had come to a halt after fans became a little too suspicious of all five of you. Sourcing out different photos with you and each driver, claiming you were dating.  

Well... the truth was that you had no idea what you were. A group of friends who fucked? Maybe against some social construct, this was all unconventional. But you weren't sure if it mattered that much. 

Whatever it was you had, as the press correspondent, it was your job to put those rumours to an end. The memo to keep calm and back off hadn't been particularly well received by the boys. Of course, it was your job at stake rather than theirs. That's when you had suggested a beach getaway to the tropics. If they kept their hands to themselves till the break, those very hands would have the pleasure to go anywhere they'd like for one week.  

So here you were, standing outside some lavish house you had all pitched in to rent. The sun was glowing and the smell of salt lingered in the air from the nearby shores. White crystal sands glimmered under the sweltering heat. And any neighbours miles down the shore.  

"Now this is what I call a holiday," Gabi nodded with approval as you entered the house, Ollie pushing your suitcase right behind you. An open living space, multiple bedrooms, plenty of sunlight... yes, he could get behind this.  

You almost sighed at the sight of the large couch, soft pillows calling your name instantly. "Why can't it be summer break forever?" You groaned, flopping onto the couch with no decorum whatsoever, back relaxing as though you had been carrying a heavy weight for years.  

Ollie shook his head, grin wide on his face as he watched your arms wrap around a nearby pillow. "You make it sound like you're the one driving our cars," he said, amusement apparent on his face.  

You peeked an eye open, gaze narrowing as Kimi took a seat right next to you, arm sung over your waist. "You guys have no idea how difficult you make my life. It's like a warzone out there every other day. Kimi this, Isack that, Gabi here. And you," you pointed to Ollie. "I told you to quit staring during interviews." 

"Oh and that's the biggest crime I've committed," Ollie retorted dryly, rolling his eyes, knowing damn well he had done far worse.  

Isack tilted his head at you, squatting down near the couch to meet your eyes. "Don't start acting so innocent either, chérie. How many more shorts and tight jeans are you gonna wear, hmm? Poor Kimi's always rubbing one out before every practice," he murmured, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.  

You pursed your lips, legs shifting to press against one another while you struggled to peel your eyes away from Isack. You could hear Kimi grunt in agreement, sound muffled with his lips against your shoulder, fingers already beginning to creep. God, you had barely been on holiday for a hot five minutes and moves were already being made.  

You sucked in a sharp breath, pushing yourself off the couch, startling the boys. "Dibs the biggest room. And don't you neanderthals even think about sharing it," you huffed, arms folded before you turned on your heel and walked towards the stairs, feeling the numerous eyes watch your every move.  

Gabi gave his friends a blank look as he finally moved his eyes away from your hips. "Smooth, guys. Really smooth," he deadpanned.  

Isack stood up, eyes rolling. "Speak for yourself. You’re literally hard right now," he pointed out, head shaking.  

Ollie looked between the four of them, cogs starting to churn. When had everyone including him become so desperate? It's like they couldn’t function without you anymore. Your breath theirs. Their touch yours. They were the literal definition of simpletons. 

"We have a week here," Ollie started with a small exhale, fingers curling round the handle of your suitcase. "Let's not get too crazy, yeah? Can't tire her out already." 

Sure, the five of you were here with one idea in mind. But relaxing was still part of the equation. It was a holiday after all. Not a sex fest. 

Kimi nodded from the couch. "Agreed. Turns towards the middle of the week?" 

Isack tipped his head. "Sounds good." 

The first day had gone surprisingly quiet. Despite the endless flirting and innuendos spilled, all five of you were able to enjoy time together without being so handsy. Making dinner with just the light tipped fingers of Ollie's on your waist and Gabi's lingering kisses on the side of your head. Passing stupid jokes and stories around the table. Upsetting Kimi when you all purposely butchered the names of different pasta dishes.  

It was... sweet?  

So sweet you shouldn't have let your guard down. But you had.  

Ollie and Gabi had gone out to for a quick breakfast run seeing as you had finished all the bare ingredients you had brought on the way to the rental. Kimi was still fast asleep and Isack you assumed was working out.  

So you sat next to the kitchen island, still waking up with the rental's coffee in hand. You almost cried from how peaceful the morning seemed to be. No emails. Well, least nothing urgent. No phone calls from the team. No racing. Just the feel of sunlight and the coldness of the marble counter beneath you. 

Pure bliss.  

You blinked, lifting your head from the counter as the door closed shut. "Morning, Isack," you smiled, shamelessly watching the shine of sweat on his tanned skin and carved muscles. You knew he usually worked out shirtless but Lord...  

You were the one complaining about the boys before but right now... you weren't any better than them.  

Isack returned the gesture, taking his headphones out of his ears and tossing them on the nearby couch before nearing you. “Morning, chérie," he murmured, kissing the side of your head. 

You swallowed as he took your cup of coffee, swivelling it so his lips drank from the same spot as you did while his other hand rested over your hip. The heat seemed to radiate from him instantly, skin so warm it bothered you through the thin fabric of your pyjamas. You breathed in, pressing your legs together, hoping he wouldn’t notice.  

Isack contained his grin, placing the cup down. "Sleep well?" 

"Yeah... it was... it was good." You nodded absentmindedly, unable to look away from those stupid goddamn muscles. You weren't sure if they existed but Algerian Gods... Greek Gods, whatever they were called. It was like he had been carved like one. A slick trail of sweat on those washboard abs, veins tight around biceps and shorts hung almost too low on his hips.  

He smiled, amused. "That's good," he said, running a hand through his hair. He hummed quietly, dark eyes trailing over you carefully. "I need to go for a shower," he sighed, head shaking. "But it's a little hard when you keep eye-fucking me, chérie." 

You gave him a resigned look. "What am I supposed to do when you look like that?" You grumbled.  

A chuckled tipped from Isack's lips, hand moving from your hip to your knee. He tapped once. "Open up, baby. Show me what I'm doing to you."  

Isack groaned softly at the damp patch in the middle of those thin little shorts. His hand moved, thumbing the wet fabric. "Look at you," he teased, your immediate whimpers music to his ears. "My pretty little slut. Turned on just from looking at me. How pathetic are you, chérie?" 

Your lips jutted into a pout, heat beginning to spread through your skin. "Isack, please," you murmured, squirming on your stool while your fingers danced over his v-line.  

He swallowed at the dizzying traces. "You know how it works," he grunted out, pressing into your clothed cunt. "Tell me what you want, and you'll get it like the good whore you are." 

The words came bubbling from your mouth without a second thought. "I want your cock, Isack. Please. Till I'm shaking," you breathed.  

The tear of your shorts was deafening across the house, echoing and rebounding off the walls. You had not a chance to complain about the large hole across your wet cunt as Isack barely pulled his shorts down, rubbing his hard cock against your dripping folds, gathering all the slick he could around his angry head.  

"Oh fuck," you gasped, body jolting at the push of his cock on your clit, heat unfurling in your stomach instantly. The tease had you impatient, yet the lewd sound of lathering kept you wanting more.  

"So fucking wet for me, chérie," Isack breathed heavily, one hand moving to your jaw while the other shifted your body closer against him. The grin on his face was heavy as he prodded his tip around your entrance, dark eyes flickering to yours. "Want my cock? Does my pretty little slut wanna feel something? Yeah?" 

You nodded desperately, face rigid against the grip of his hand. "Please, Isa. I want it so bad." 

Isack wasn't sure what really dissolved his restraint. Your desperation or the nickname you had given. So sweet sounding, wrapped in a plea. What a sinful sound that was. 

You whimpered as his hips moved, thick cock pushing and still stretching your walls out despite the number of times you had felt him there. Your hand shot out to his forearm, gasping deeply when he took once long stroke back before pushing back in to start his rhythm.  

Nothing about it was slow or careful. You had asked to be fucked till you shook. And he was keeping the promise.  

His craft was brutal by all means. Mercilessly pounding against you, balls deep and flushed against you. The sound of skin slapping upon one another had become so loud so quick, it was a wonder Kimi hadn't already woken up. He had seized your voice entirely, leaving you unable to explain strikes of pleasure coursing through you.  

"Couldn't wait, could you?" Isack rasped, pushing his thumb into your mouth, groaning when he felt the tip of your tongue circle it. He chuckled. "You always act like we're so desperate. But you're just as bad as us. Wet over nothing. I bet you even dream about this. Being fucked so often. One after another. You like this as much as we do." 

Your brows furrowed at his words, poised with remark when he removed his thumb. But any futile rebuttal was silenced as his thumb trailed down the column of your throat. The thin air in your lungs burned while he pressed into you deeper, small curve of his cock pressing against that perfect spongy part of you.  

"Oh yeah... that's it right there, huh?" Isack grinned, watching you sink your teeth into your bottom lip harshly, your pupils blown wide. His hand on your hip shifted you once again, hooking one leg around his back while you fell against the edge of the kitchen island. It would've been uncomfortable if it wasn't for the sheer tingles of heat wavering over you with every deep thrust.  

"You gonna cum already? Are you that desperate, my pretty girl?" He taunted, feeling your walls tighten around him at his words. Jesus Christ… “Go on then. It won't be the only one," he grunted, thumb pressing a little tighter on your airway.  

You writhed against his grasp, pleasure searing right through you, leaving you seeing white as your body convulsed. It felt like the air had been knocked out of your lungs, fingers digging into his forearms, eyes rolling hard.  

Isack moved his thumb off your neck, letting the air rush back right into your flushed face as he pulled out of you for a brief second, turning you so your cheeks laid flat against the kitchen island. The curses tipped from his lips, one after another as he sunk back into you, filling you right to the hilt. "Putain," he swore, breaths uneven.  

Whether it was the sixth or the sixteenth time, every time he was in you it felt like the first. So warm and tight. Walls gripping him like there was no tomorrow. How were you so perfect for him? 

His thick hands fell to your waist, snug and fitting as his hips sped up once again, not giving you another chance to recuperate. He rutted against you, mouth falling to your clothed back, stifling every unstable moan with his kisses.  

It was unsanitary by all means. Having you like this. Against the counter where food was made and eaten. Skin partially stuck together, the squelch of your arousal combining; his balls slapping against you as he pressed deeper into you.  

But Isack loved it.  

He loved how gone you looked already. How every part of your body demanded more despite being so sensitive, pulling him further into you.  

Your knees almost faltered when you felt his hand inch towards your clit, rubbing in circles. It was only his arm, shifting around your waist to keep you up. "Yes, Isack," you mewled, eyes shut tight, bitten lips swollen. "F-Faster—ngh! Faster." 

His eyes rolled at your satisfied moans. Because there it was. The true marking of who you were. No coy mask to cover up the slut inside. 

You could feel it coming already, body still reeling from the previous orgasm. Your fingers curled tightly around the counter's edge, moans becoming louder and louder till your mouth fell open and you turned completely silent. 

Isack's grunts became rougher with every passing second, unable to control himself with the sheer tightness of you around him as your body locked up. His hips faltered and stuttered against you, ropes of his cum spilling into you, hot and fast.  

For a brief moment, you thought that was it. Your heavy pants filling the air.  

But Isack hadn't quite fulfilled his promise yet.  

You whimpered at the sudden loss of him inside you, fumbling as he turned you back around, thick, veined hands spreading your legs apart. The groan from his lips was guttural, dark eyes falling to the spill of white mess slowing pouring out of you. 

He didn't say a word. Attaching his mouth to your puffy folds without a second thought, tongue lapping up the taste of your slick and his combined.  

Your head fell back, mouth open, eyes wide. Your thighs tensed around his head, so sensitive and yet you couldn't help but want more. Your hand flew to his hair, pushing yourself deeper as his big nose slid up exactly where you wanted. "Oh fuck," you moaned.  

Isack grunted against you, sound reverberating through your core, tongue prodding your hole with a filthy amount of invasion before moving to your clit.  

Your heart almost sank at the press of his fingers into your cunt, perfectly thick and curled to press right against the spongy part of you. You squirmed against him, heat unfurling with singes of pain. The insistent suckling of his lips over your clit was unlike anything you could describe. Heaven and hell. Evil and good.  

"Again. Come on, chérie. I know you want to. A whore like you always wants to. I can feel it," he moaned, voice muffled.  

Your body burned at his words, fingers speeding up inside you. Your breath shook in disbelief, hips rising up at the narrowing pleasure building and building. "I-Isack. I... oh my God," you sobbed, core tightening when he pushed deeper.  

And it happened. The release crackling over you like lightning. As if a dam had been broken, warm gushes of liquid spurting out of you uncontrollably. It was obscene. On your thighs. On the island. On your stool. And most importantly, on Isack.  

The sound Isack made was nothing short of animalistic, mouth wide and tongue lapping every single drop he could get as his fingers coaxed it all. This was what he had wanted. You shaking hard against him. Unable to think. So lust-ridden you were unable to breathe. 

You shuddered with the last few swipes of his tongue, thin sheets of sweat covering your body as you looked down at Isack. You swallowed at the sight of his smirk, watching him lean back up with a satisfied sigh.   

"Probably should go for my actual shower now, hmm?" Isack teased, fingers still on your thighs. “Care to join?" 

Kimi was only passing by your room on pure accident. He could've sworn it. It wasn't his fault that he was intrigued by your endless number of bikinis and swimsuits. Or the fact you were trying them on. But if he had known it'd lead to this, he would’ve entered a lot sooner. 

Your hand tightened around the mop of brown curls, stark naked on your bed as Kimi's mouth sucked and tugged every soft tissue of your breast he could find. One hand groped the other, while the other hand roamed your bare thigh, hips rutting against you like a maniac.  

"I missed these so much," Kimi gasped, his saliva shining all over your tits, bite marks indented in the most mischievous of corners. "How could you have asked to keep these away from me?" 

You only moaned in response, cunt clenching down hard around his cock. God, he felt so good. Every glide in you with a perfectly crafted pace exclusive to him.  

"Don't you think you should apologise?" Kimi grunted, lifting his head up, brown eyes falling to you. His fingers reached for your nipple, pinching ever so tightly. "Do you see what wrong you've done, belle?" 

You whimpered at the small strike of pain, eyes flitting to his. "I... I..." You could barely form a coherent sentence, too fixated on how flushed Kimi was to you, pubic bone grinding against the hood of your clit with every push.  

A grin formed onto his face. "What was that? I don't speak teasing slut," he spat, twisting your nipple as he pushed deeper into you, bed creaking underneath you.  

Your back arched at the action, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. Your stomach churned at the pleasure shooting through your body, free hand reaching out to grab the pillow nearby, knuckles white. "I... I'm sor—oh fuck," you moaned at the impossible pain surging through your chest, leaving you writhing. 

"'I... I..' What?" Kimi mocked, fingers releasing your nipple only to come swatting down on your tits. He chuckled at the sorry noise falling from your lips. Even worse was the louder squelch of your cunt. God, you were so simple. So easy. So perfect. "Look at you. How pathetic do you get? Even wetter from being slapped silly." 

"I'm sorry," you finally croaked, humiliation burning your skin like wildfire.  

"Yeah?" He heaved; cockiness ever present as he groped your reddened tit harshly. "You're sorry? Do you understand what you did? You think you even deserve to cum after that?" 

Your brows mended almost instantly at the thought of being denied any sort of pleasure. “Kimi, no. Please. Please don't do that," you stuttered, eyes rolling at the slower, deeper thrusts he gave you, cock nudging every inch of your walls.  

"You should've thought about it, belle. Every race, every practice... you walked into the paddock. Tight shirt, tight pants. Do you have any idea how many times I came those days? All to keep a low profile and now you pull shit like this," he huffed, placing his lips onto your neck, sloppy kisses trailing down.  

Your hips jerked at his words. "Kimi... I can't," you breathed shakily, cunt clamping down around him, leaving him hissing.  

The string of Italian curse words were audible as his body hovered over yours, teeth biting down onto your bare shoulder. Jesus Christ, you were like a siren. And not the good kind people talked about. The ones in the myths. Dangerous. A guide to his demise.  

Because he knew... he knew he shouldn't have gave in. But the pleasure was clouding Kimi's mind. His cock throbbing with need. Lower stomach tingling. The feel of your tits and nipples against his body driving him crazy.  

So he let you.  

"Oh fuck!" You cried out, vision searing white as you came hard around Kim's cock. Your chest heaved, lungs burning with the need for air.  

And for a split second, Kimi almost came undone too.  

But he grasped his composure. Pulling out of you, albeit begrudgingly. He flitted his eyes to your faded gaze, flushed skin, and glossed eyes. Oh how pretty you looked. 

"On your knees," Kimi barked out with a heavy swallow, cock standing tall and hard against his stomach. He watched you scramble quickly, mattress dipping at your haste. He heaved, nodding with content.  

It was stupid for him to even try standing on your bed. But he was so desperate. Hand firmly attached to the head of your bed, his cock, shining with your slick, sliding down your jaw before slotting itself between your reddened tits. His knees almost faltered at the sight alone.  

He spoke, voice tight and strained, "Make me cum."  

You swallowed tightly at the lewd pulse in your cunt. There was nothing to blame but yourself this time. No aphrodisiac chocolates. No nothing. The humiliation was so clear. But so was your nature.  

Kimi's fingers tightened almost instantly as your hands fell around your tits, pressing them close to his aching cock. "Oh fuck," he cursed with disbelief, watching the ample tissue coat his shaft. Up and down. So controlled. So perfect it made his hips jerk.  

And there was only one thing that could make it any better.  

You whimpered at the strings of saliva spreading across your chest, following them back up to Kimi's mouth. Your legs pressed together instantly. For fuck's sake... how horny were you? 

Kimi's lips quirked at the sight. Shiny tits now rubbing against his cock. Oh how he had dreamed about this. Time and time again. In his driver's room, one hand down his pants. But this was so much better. He could see your clouded eyes and blown pupils. Raw, bitten lips.  

"Oh my God," he whimpered, voice breaking with disbelief, hips beginning to move on their own in a perfectly aligned rhythm with you. His cheeks burned with desperation and embarrassment from how bad he needed to cum. The pleasure, all coiled in his stomach, now threatening to unravel. 

Kimi thought he could last at least seven minutes more. But it was like he was watching you in slow motion. Pretty lips part, warm tongue darting out towards his tip, playing with his slit while your eyes focused on him.  

Holy fuck.  

How were you real? 

"N-No," he shook his head rapidly, voice choked. "I can't," he panted, hand shooting out to his shaft, fisting himself urgently.  

He couldn't get the image out of his head nor the sounds. Your small smile. Tongue teasing. Your eager pose, sitting and waiting for him to finish. The goading giggle... 

"Oh, oh fuck!"  

You had broken him entirely. Body stuttering with sharp waves of pleasure in every atom of his body, eyes clenched so tightly while his lips parted around a series of stressed grunts. His cum splattered over your tits, an abstract form of art, hot and warm.  

Kimi's fingers uncurled from the head of your bed, knees falling to the mattress as his tongue laid flat against your tits, cleaning every bit up like it was his duty to do so. Moans slipping with every swipe till he was left breathing hard against your chest.  

He lifted his hooded eyes to you, head shaking lightly despite the small smile on his face. "You're awful." 

A late-night shower was what you had needed after a day of frolicking. Especially when everyone had settled for a barbeque for dinner. You hadn’t really thought about the smell of charcoal being embedded into your clothes.  

Initially, you were far too tired to even try. But an hour into your sleep, you were wide awake, too paranoid about the smell. You could've sworn the charcoal had seeped into your goddamn skin. So you peeled out of bed and headed towards the bathroom.  

You sat on the counter of the sink, sounds of water trickling in the background as you scrolled through your phone and waited for it to warm up a little. Even in the heat, you found it difficult to shower with ice cold water.  

"Can't sleep?" 

You blinked, hand flying to your chest as your heart pounded. You flitted your eyes to Gabi who rested upon the door frame, arms folded, boyish grin wide. "Jesus, Gabi. Are you trying to kill me?" You muttered, giving him a glare as you placed your phone down. "But yes. I can't sleep because of this goddamn charcoal. It is everywhere, I swear." 

A chuckle fell from Gabi's lips as he pushed himself off the door. He inched closer towards you, each arm of his landing on either side of you, caging you in. He watched your throat bob a little, making him grin wider. He looked back up at you. "Can I join?" 

You raised a brow, tilting your head while you narrowed your eyes. "I don't know what you're thinking but I'm showering," you muttered. 

You knew these boys like the back of your hand. When they meant one thing, they always meant another.  

He shrugged almost innocently. "So am I," he simply said, one arm moving to remove his shirt with one fell swoop.  

You poked the inside of your cheek with your tongue, watching his hands creep towards your waist, hooking themselves to the hem of your shirt, pulling up as slowly as the sparking mischief in his eyes. You sighed, raising your arms defeatedly, hearing your shirt drop to the floor.  

He heaved at the sight of your bare chest. Of course. You couldn't keep those pretty things cooped up all night, could you? 

Gabi sunk to his knees, lips quietly attaching themselves to the side of your knee as he began to pull down your shorts, a new pair after what Isack had done to your previous ones.  

Your breath shook silently, eyes following the graze of his fingers, finding your shorts joining the new pile of clothing building up. You smiled to yourself at the warm gaze watching you, lips softly working their way up to the inside of your thigh.  

Rolling your eyes, you pushed him away with the press of your foot against his chest. "Everyone's asleep, Gabi," you reminded, hopping off the counter before taking off your underwear, grinning at the audible hitch in his breath.  

Gabi followed your footsteps towards the shower. "I can be quiet, linda," he murmured, hand reaching out to trail over your bare waist, entranced at the trail of goosebumps appearing.  

You turned, giving him a pointed look as you stepped into the shower backwards. "You're never quiet," you whispered teasingly, feeling the warm droplets of water begin to hit your skin.  

He swallowed tightly, torn between which droplet to even follow. The one over your tits? Or the one hanging from your lips? Perhaps in between your legs? 

He sucked in a sharp breath, grin faint on his face. "Let's test that theory, shall we?" 

Your squeal was imminent as Gabi peeled off his boxers, inevitably drawing your eyes to the long length calling your name. Your steps were hesitant, making room for him while he came into the shower, crowding the small space with his body.  

You shivered as his cold hands fell to your waist, rubbing over your ribcage and hips with refined restraint. His lips dipped down to your ear, voice thick over the sounds of water pelting. "Would I be wrong to think that the wetness I'll find between your legs right now isn't the water?" 

Your lips parted, some lame refusal on the tip of your tongue but all in vain when you felt his slender fingers find your folds. The grin on his face told you what you needed to know, head falling to his chest at the smear of thick slick over your bundle of nerves. 

Gabi chuckled softly at your whimper. "Once a slut..." He sighed, shaking his head with amusement. "... always a slut. Don't know why you even bother denying it, linda."  

Your jaw hung open as his two fingers pushed into your cunt, rubbing your inner walls as he began setting his pace. "F-Fuck," you stuttered, toes curling against the shower floor, hand reaching out to steady yourself with his forearm.  

He hushed you, so obviously enjoying your reactions already. "Shh. Gotta be quiet if you wanna cum, baby. Yeah? You gonna follow the rules?" 

You nodded against his chest, walls clamping down around his fingers. They were so long. Reaching every crevice so easily, filling you up without even needing to push deeper. But he did. God, he did, curling smoothly, testing the gentle rub of the perfect area in your cunt. 

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip hard, trying to suppress any sound from escaping your throat.  

Gabi chuckled against your ear. "That feel good? I bet it does. Probably what you wanted after making so much noise passing my room, huh?" He teased, brown eyes carefully watching every movement on your face.  

Your nails dug into his forearm, hips grinding against his hand helplessly. The forbidden sounds all hidden away seemed to make your chest tight as his fingers speed up. It was making you delirious, soft mewls teeming from your sealed lips. 

Your head snapped up at the sudden removal of Gabi's fingers, chest heaving while you almost frowned in disappointment. The sound of water filled your ears, in sync with the thudding heartbeat in your ears.  

"I said not a sound, linda," Gabi tsked, shaking his head despite the amusement on his face. God, you looked so desperate it made his cock twitch. His free hand wrapped around your jaw, grip firm. His lowered his voice. "Now I'm going to be generous and give you another chance, okay? Would you like that?" 

You nodded quickly but his grip tightened. "Use your words, baby." 

"Yes," you rasped, walls clenching around nothing as the steam of the shower seemed to build around you. How embarrassing. "I would like another chance, please." 

He smiled, dropping his hand from your jaw. He hummed, patting your cheek. "A slut with manners... aren't you such a good girl?" He cooed, slick covered fingers trailing down your wet stomach, slipping between your legs easily. 

Your lips parted as his fingers returned to your cunt, pushing in and out slowly, walls tighter than before, desperate to not let go of this feeling. You bit down on your lip yet again, feeling his mouth press against your shoulder as he pressed deeper. Oh God... 

"That's it. Doesn't it feel so much better when you follow the rules? It'd be better if you weren't so stupid," Gabi sighed, curling his fingers intentionally, watching you squirm as the shame seeped far hotter than the water hitting your skin. "Always pretending like you don't want it. Like you're better than us. But like this, here! You’re nothing. Just a good toy who follows my rules, yeah?" 

Your eyes rolled, blinking rapidly with the falling drops of water. Your body cowered against him, pleasure unfurling quickly. It was ridiculous. His words should've horrified you. Made you want to push him away. But it only made your skin burn and ache with the need for more.  

And nothing was more humiliating than the grotesque squelch of your cunt against his fingers. Louder than the water pelting past you, shower far too quiet cover it. You were sure if anyone had woken up and walked by, they would know what was going on.  

Your nails dug deeper into his skin once again, silent breath shaking as your eyes flitted up to him as if it was a warning.  

Gabi chuckled faintly. "Oh I know. I can feel it," he murmured, referring to the vice-like grip you had on his fingers.  

He could see it too. You were so close, skin flushed with the burden of silence. The sight made him coax it even further, pads of his two fingers rubbing that good spot, instantly having you keeling. 

Your eyes rolled hard to the back of your skull, teeth threatening to tear into the soft skin of your lip as you came all over his fingers. Your body shook violently against him—the only form of voice you had in that very moment.  

Gabi's jaw clenched tightly, refraining himself from groaning at the sight. He pulled his fingers out, licking them clean with a shudder as you stepped back, letting the water fall over you. Taking a moment to come down. But only a moment. His chest heaved harshly, cock heavy with need when he watched you sink to your knees without him even asking to. Oh Jesus... 

His hand flew to his mouth in an instant as he watched your lips parted around the aching tip of his cock, already struggling to keep his promise. Your fingers sank into his thighs, head moving up and down, coating him in the warmth of your mouth.  

He could only swear in his head, over and over again. Every time, without fail, your mouth seemed to work a magic unlike anything he had ever experienced. Perhaps you had memorised what he liked by now. The flick of your tongue under his veined shaft. The small suckling of his tip. The graze of your teeth.  

Fuck. You knew it all like the good slut you were.  

Gabi wasn't sure when his other hand had found your wet hair, wrapping it around in circles till he had a tight grip. His hips began moving desperately, so invasive against your throat as your gags reverberated through him.  

It was heavenly how your throat closed around him, tight and warm like you knew every ridge of him in your memory. Sucking him in even further, letting him bruise you like you knew who owned that hole. You choked as he brought your head closer, pushing your nose right against his lower pelvis, flushed with his pubic hair. 

He couldn't help but drift his eyes down to you. Something about the look of you on your knees, eyes teary, in front of the fogged glass with water trickling down your glowing skin... it was unreal.  

His hips moved deliriously, strides fast and short as the desperation began to hit him. His breaths heavy as he lost control, voicing every grunt and moan he had kept shoved down in his chest. They became shorter than the one before, mixing with the sound of your gags.  

"Oh shit... shit, shit, shit!"  

The pleasure bubbled tightly before his hips came to a rapid halt against your face, ropes of his hot cum spilling down your throat as his fingers dug into your scalp.  

Gabi sucked in a sharp breath, trying not to swear at the bob of your throat as you swallowed every drop of him he gave you. 

You wiped your lips with a small smile, slowly standing back up on your feet. You casually grabbed the shower gel nearby, amused glint in your eyes obvious.  

"I told you you couldn't keep quiet." 

Ollie had had enough of it. And by 'it,' he meant you.  

He had been watching you lounge by the beach as the others swam, ice cream in hand as you read your book with not a care in the world. Not for the drops of sugar pooling around your lips. Nor for the white drops trailing down your chest from the sheer heat of the sun. He couldn’t tell whether it was on purpose. And he didn't care whether it was. 

It was driving him crazy. As though he was a dog with his panting tongue out, hungry for a taste. 

Ollie barely had enough patience for you to stand up to wash your hands in the changing rooms nearby. His steps swift and smooth on your trail and he could tell you knew, traces of your faint smile as you entered the large room.  

The sound of the tap flowing rebounded off the barren walls. You reached out for some soap, eyes flickering to the strained expression in the reflection of the mirror. "This is the girls' changing room, Ollie," you murmured, lips quirking regardless.  

Ollie's fingers twisted the lock behind him, small click so loud. He quietly watched you dry your hands with the tissue paper provided, brown eyes falling to the sticky spots shining on your chest. "You left some," he said, ignoring your previous statement as he took a few steps closer.  

You blinked with feigned innocence, looking down at your chest. "Whoops," you hummed, lips jutting out as you tilted your head back up, finding Ollie mere centimetres away. The heat seemed to radiate so clearly from his naked chest. You breathed in his breath, whisper barely audible. "Can you help clean it up?" 

The question broke his thinning patience. His hands moved fast, hooking you up against the counter, warm tongue leaving wet trails across your chest as the sweet taste of sugar lingered. His fingers roughly pulled down your bikini top, thumbs moving to feel your nipples, moans muffled against your ample flesh.  

Your head carelessly fell back against the mirror, feeling the pressure of his lips tighten with intention, purple embellishments left with every move. Your hand reached for those brown locks, trailing down towards his jaw as he looked up at you, eyes glazed with a honey-dripping warmth.  

"On purpose," Ollie breathed, feeling your thumb graze over his bottom lip. "You did that on purpose." 

You simply smiled, shoulders shrugging. "I missed you." 

Time seemed to slow for a moment. Ollie swallowed the electric shock coursing through his body. A soft chuckle fell from his mouth before he leaned up, pressing his lips to yours in an instant. It was deep and all consuming, tongues sharing the sweetness of the ice cream you had just finished, moans and grunts mixed with your heavy breaths.  

"Why don't you just ask, sweetheart?" He gasped against your lips, teeth harshly pulling at them as he grinned. "Or is it too much of your nature to act like my whore?" 

You whimpered at his words, thighs pressing against the arousal pooling with every passing second. "Ollie, please. I wanna feel you," you breathed shakily, message slurred with every push of his lips against yours.  

Ollie hummed, one hand moving down your exposed thigh, creeping closer and closer towards the radiating heat in between your legs. "Really? It doesn't sound like you really want it," he mumbled, pushing his fingers against the damp fabric of your bikini bottoms. And it makes him chuckle. "But I guess your body's saying something else. Are you really sure you want it?" 

"Please," you said against his lips, voice strained at the slow rub of his fingers against your clothed cunt. "I want it. I want it bad." 

He grinned further, skimming over your clit, grit of the fabric making you whine. "And what does my baby want? Hmm? My fingers? No?" He queried, lips pouting mockingly at the glaring heat in your eyes.  

"I want your cock, Ollie. Please," you whispered, eyes stinging with humiliation. 

Ollie watched you, beyond amused. Euphoric at every plea tipping from your lips. As if he an unearthed a resting pride in the bottom of his chest. How easily he could bring you to cry. To beg. It was heavenly. 

He chuckled, almost in disbelief as he watched you perk at the sight of him bringing out his cock from his swim shorts. His desperate slut. His arm shifted you against the counter, tilting you closer towards him. He sucked in a sharp breath, tucking himself under the tightness of your bottoms, damp fabric stuck to him as he rubbed against you.  

Your lips parted at the spread of your folds around his long shaft, slick covering him in an instant. Breath hitching at the nudge of his tip against your clit, you looked over at him with a resigned look. "Ollie..." 

"What? Is that not what you wanted?" He queried, overly fake innocence seeping through his voice as the heat grew in your skin and cunt. "You have my cock. Is that not enough for a slut like you?" 

Your fingers shook, reaching for his forearm. Your skin prickled with shame, your dignity becoming lost with every passing second. How much more were you going to have to beg? How much more were you going to wait?  

The grind of his hips against yours. The teasing prod of his leaking tip near your hole. There but not where you wanted. Not how you wanted.  

Ollie's lips neared your ear, grin audible, shaped with the feel of his mouth tugging. "You think this is torture? And you having that ice cream, letting it drip all over you, wasn't? Don't think I forgot about the gym either." 

You snapped your eyes to his. Right. You had done that. Spent your early hours in the paddock within the Haas gym, at the same time Ollie had his own training to focus on. Dressed in what could only be described as sinful activewear. 

"It doesn't feel good, does it?" He chuckled, breath heavy as the wetness seemed to increase, echoing off the empty walls of the changing room.  

"Ollie, please," you exasperated, frustration now forming with the thin sheets of tears in your eyes. It was mortifying how your cunt clenched around nothing, so desperate to be full. To be used. "I realise my mistake." 

"Yeah? You won't do it again, will you?" Ollie murmured, testing different speeds as his hips rutted against your folds.  

You shuddered, teeth biting down on your lip tightly as you shook your head. "No. I promise," you almost sobbed, voice shaking.  

"You'll tell me the next time you wanna be fucked stupid, right?"  

You sucked in a sharp breath at the brief push of his tip into your hole, momentary pleasure striking your body. "Yes! I will. I'll ask. I promise, Ollie." 

Ollie groaned at the tear drop falling from your eye as he finally pushed in fully, feeling your walls immediately clamp down on him. "Oh shit," he grunted, hand reached out to collect the salty liquid with the pad of his thumb.  

Your brows mended with disbelief, cunt pulsing as he brought your tear to his tongue. Your whimper came from deep down, skin burning impossibly while he held your gaze, cock pounding into you at a heightened pace from the get-go.  

It was that moment that told you that you weren’t going to last nearly as long as you thought. It had some stupid hold over you, leaving you bringing your mouth to his, tasting yourself on his tongue while your moans were muffled.  

His fingers sunk into your hips, echoes of your skin slapping against one another rebounding off the walls. The smell of sex surrounded you like a thick fog, nails digging into his forearms, scratching the epidermis, red crescents engraved into his skin.  

"So pretty like this, baby," Ollie grunted against your lips, eyes rolling at the tight warmth of your walls clenching around him. Like you had perfectly accommodated every ridge of his. "All teary-eyed and desperate. You love being my cockslut, don't you?" 

You nodded, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. God, yes. You loved it. No matter how much your skin burned with embarrassment. It never felt better than this.  

"Oh my God, Ollie—ngh!" You mewled, feeling your core tighten.  

His own skin flushed at your sweet sounds, hips beginning to speed up, pushing deeper and deeper. "You close, hmm?" He panted, thumb moving to open your mouth. "Open up for me." 

No shame truly poured over you as Ollie spat in your mouth. Instinctual as you swallowed it without a thought, making him groan and his cock throb in your cunt. Seriously... how were you real? What were the odds you and him existed in the same timeline? On the same plane as the others? 

He could only thank the stars that whatever life choices you had made had brought you here. With him. With them. 

"O-Ollie," you stuttered, body beginning to lock up as the sliver of sharp pleasure built.  

"That's it, fuckkk. Cum for me. You've been such a good girl for me," Ollie rasped, brown eagle eyes taking in every morphed movement of your face as the pleasure came shattering down on you. 

It was surreal how his pace never quite slowed down, fucking you through each ebbing wave of pleasure, each one bigger than the other. You could barely see through your hazed vision. Stars. Lightning. White. Like some sort of heavenly light at the end of the tunnel. It left you clamping down on him hard.  

His fingers wrapped around your hips tighter than before, bruising as Ollie's jaw hung open. “Oh my... Oh my God," he breathed harshly, coil in his lower pelvis unravelling faster than he could speak.  

With his hips stilling against yours, he painted your walls and crevices white and warm, groans muffled in your ears as his lips pressed against yours, rushed and deep. All of it was sloppy. The lewd squelch. The husky smell. The sweat on your skin.  

And yet, you wouldn't have changed a thing. 

You eyed the five small empty vials in front you, tilting your head as you looked around the living room, carefully examining the four expressions. "You know we don't need aphrodisiacs to have fun, right?" You asked.  

None of you had really questioned where on earth Gabi had gotten those teeny tiny bottles from. Aphrodisiac liqueur except without the alcohol. All 'natural' as it claimed on the packaging. They were strong doses. Ten millilitres in each one. Enough to make you last hours.  

You had been sitting here for forty minutes now, ticking down the time till they eventually kicked in. Or till one of you folded. Whichever came first.  

Gabi nodded slowly. "I know," he simply said. "Thought it'd be fun to have a little throwback," he grinned.  

Isack blew some air into his face, leaning up from the couch. "I think this one is a bust, mate." 

"Yeah, it should've started working ten minutes ago," Ollie agreed despite running a hand through his hair like he had been sweating.  

You raised a brow; smile etched onto your face. "I wouldn't be so sure. Kimi's been awfully quiet," you mumbled, drifting your attention to the Italian cooped up in the corner of the couch, skin lightly flushed, mouth pressed tightly.  

Kimi swallowed, sucking in a sharp breath, arms moving over his lap hastily. "Me?" He pointed at himself. "I'm fine. Pfft... I don't even feel anything. At all. Whatsoever." 

You hummed to yourself, amused. "If you say so," you sung quietly, moving your hair to the side, throwing one leg over the other, arms perfectly nested underneath your chest.  

"Oh come on... don't do that," Kimi grumbled, shaking his head at your actions, unable to peel his eyes away from your cleavage. “That’s… not fair. She does this during every interview," he complained, looking over at his friends for support.  

"Do what? I'm not doing anything," you retorted, feigning a small yawn as you stretched your arms.  

Ollie pursed his lips, throat bobbing at the rise of your shirt. "Kimi, don't egg her—" 

"This is totally unfair. I thought we were waiting it out," Kimi sighed, shifting uncomfortably against the couch, shorts beginning to tent. 

You smiled, bringing your arms back down. There was something about playing with fire that got you so excited. Because right now, you were smiling. The next... you'd hope you'd be crying.  

"You think that's unfair? That's not even close," you murmured, feeling the heat of the drink beginning to climb in your body.  

"Oh Jesus," Gabi shook his head as you opened your legs, skirt parting to reveal your bare cunt. "There nothing there," he groaned, eyes closing as he shoved his face into a nearby pillow. 

Isack bit his lip, fingers tightening around the edge of couch. He could see it as much as the next person. The glistening of the slick around every fold of yours. So perfect, waiting to be touched. To be ruined.  

God, you were just awful. 

He looked over to Ollie, waiting for something. Anything. Because the unsaid rule still applied. It was Ollie who made the first move. Not him. Not anyone else. Ollie.  

It wasn't exactly territorial, per se. It was just the order of things. You were his press correspondent first. The fact Ollie had even gone as far as letting all three of them continue with whatever this was... it was beyond them but hell, they weren’t complaining.  

You watched with bated breath as Ollie tilted his head at you, wetness increasing by the second. What would he say? What would he do? Your head explored all the possibilities. You blinked as his lips parted.  

"I think you should apologise to Kimi," Ollie stated, legs crossed, arms stretched oh so casually when his eyes said anything but.  

You pursed your lips, smile small and coy. "You're right. That was mean of me," you agreed, shifting your head towards Kimi as you stood up from the couch. You watched his chest heave with anticipation, brown eyes following when you sank to your knees and your hands skimmed over his clothed thighs. "I hope you can forgive me," you breathed.  

Kimi's lips quirked, aphrodisiacs making him sit straight before leaning forward, scooting closer. He pulled down the waistband of his shorts, letting his hardened length fly out, patting your cheek with a humiliating spring. He whispered, “Try and find out." 

Gabi's teeth dug into the pillow nearby as he watched your lips spread around Kimi's cock, tongue lapping the pre-cum oozing out of his tip. Kimi's head fell back onto the couch, eyes fluttering instantly. "Oh fuck." 

It was a sinful endeavour as it usually was. The way your throat took him, so warm and so tight. The press of your hands against his balls. The graze of your nails against his shaft. The hums of your throat vibrating through him. Like you knew all the right buttons to press. 

Kimi's brows furrowed, breath shaky when you nuzzled all the way down, nose pressed right up against him lower pelvis, gags reverberating. It made his hips jerk uncontrollably. "What is in those drinks? Seriously?" He gasped, hand shooting out to your hair.  

You only moaned in response, body tingling when you felt a hand creep up the back of your thigh and over your ass, teasing and only momentarily soft. You knew these those slender fingers from anywhere.  

You choked around Kimi's cock as Gabi's hand came slamming down onto the ample flesh, red handprint almost immediate. The pain made you jolt, leaving Kimi's tip nudging your throat, bruising in all the ways that mattered. Your scalp burned, muffled whimpers rising when the next when inched close towards the heat between your legs.  

"Our cumslut's looking a little empty, isn't she?” Gabi breathed out, smirk stretched onto his face as he admired his artwork. "Should we fill her up?" 

Isack grunted, fisting himself on the couch, pre-cum slathered all over his shaft. "Please. Holy God." 

Kimi practically scrambled out of your mouth the moment Gabi, already now bare, pressed his long cock into your rim. "No, no, no. Up here, belle," he swallowed, hoisting you up, not giving you any time to adjust as he sunk you down onto his cock. 

You winced at the burning stretches, hands flying out to fist Kimi's shirt, bracing yourself. Though you had a little practice, having two holes full never got any easier. But fuck, it felt so good.  

Ollie watched silently, ears full of the sickening, wet squelches of your skin slapping against one and another. He didn't reach out to touch himself. Not yet. Though the large bulge in his pants begged him to. There was something just so enchanting about having you half-clothed, skirt up and riding Kimi while Gabin pounded you from behind. It clouded his brain with only the worst of thoughts. 

"Take it off," Kimi almost growled, hand harshly pulling at your shirt, friction burning into your skin. He needed to see those tits. So big and soft. He could already see the peaks of your nipples through the fabric as well.  

Gabi's arms moved off your hips, thick fingers moving to tear the thin fabric with ease, letting a swarm of cold air whip past your chest. Your body clenched around their cocks, face scarlet with shame.

You felt like a doll. Controlled and manoeuvred the way they wanted. Hair pulled. Clothes torn. Used in every aspect that mattered.  

"Oh yes," Kimi moaned, hands reaching to grope each tit, cock twitching at how they spilled past the confines of his fingers. "Look at these bounce," he grunted, hips fucking into you deeper. Fuck, you felt so good around him. 

Your eyes rolled hard at the two paths of pleasure, feeling Gabi drive harder into you, pelvis pressed right against your ass. Your cunt was only getting wetter, slick spreading everywhere while your stomach churned. Your breath shook as Gabi’s hand came around your throat, thumb lifting your jaw to look at him, palm slightly pushing down on your airway.  

"This is your worth, linda," Gabi spat, cursing at how tight your hole felt around him. "Nothing. This is what happens when you're worth nothing," he chuckled.  

Kimi's gasp came out choked, half-lodged in his throat. "Shit, shit, shit," he swore, brown eyes wide, lips parted as the pleasure took a hold of him. His hips stilled, cock pumping out ropes and ropes of his cum into you, filling you up just like Gabi had intended.  

Your hands darted to the sudden press of Kimi's against your clit. Mouth wide open, your body convulsed at the forced pleasure rising out of you, moans mixed with Gabi's grunts as he sped up, only making you see white harder.  

"Fuck, Kimi!" Gabi barked, almost chiding as his eyes rolled, hips stuttering while his skin burned with every sense heightened from the aphrodisiacs. 

You were heaving, half slumped against Gabi’s chest, body still shaking as you mustered what was the poorest glare at Kimi through your hooded eyes. None of which meant anything with the smug smirk on his face.  

"I forgive," Kimi chuckled proudly, watching you shudder as Gabi pulled out of you, his hands flying to keep you up against him.  

You swallowed at the tilt of your chin to the other direction, finding the blown pupils belonging to Isack staring right back at you. Your heart sank with nothing more than excitement. "Hope you're not too tired, chérie. We're only just getting started." 

Kimi inhaled sharply at the pulse of your cunt around him. He grinned at Isack, pulling you off of him swiftly, leaving you back-facing on the couch. "Trust me. She's not." 

Isack leered, squatting down as his eyes raked over your body. His tongue clicked, cock in his shorts twitching at the juices spilling out of you from both holes. "What a mess you've made," he sighed, fingers trailing down your stomach and over your puffy folds, leaving you jolting. He smiled broadly at the sight. His lips dipped to your ears. "But I know you can make more." 

"Oh fuck," you whimpered as Isack's thick fingers pushed into your cunt, not even giving you a chance to warm up. Your walls throbbed at the sizzling slivers of pain, clamping around him in a way that asked for me.  

You blinked, stomach churning with a thrilling fear when you spotted Ollie's face above you. He was watching. Staring. And yet... he said nothing.  

"Eyes on me, chérie," Isack reminded, keeping your jaw firmly tilted towards him.  

Your eyes prickled with embarrassment. Why wasn't he saying anything? Doing anything? Your cunt clenched at the frustration, sunken whimpers in your throat making small networks of veins appear when Isack's fingers curled.  

"Oh... is our baby sad? You want Ollie to touch you?" Isack cooed, rubbing that smooth spot perfectly, leaving your hips jerking impossibly. He grinned at the tears slipping from the corners of your eyes. "Well that's tough. Seems like you did something to upset him," he chuckled, thumb expertly gliding to your clit.  

"Fucking hell," you moaned, head digging into you the couch as your eyes rolled.  

Your cunt swirled at the tense pleasure hurtling through you, hand reaching out to grab Ollie's forearm near you, knuckles white while your hips ground against Isack's hand. Your jaw fell slack as his two digits rubbed your inner walls, teeth tearing into your lip. The reminiscent memories of the first time flashed in your head as his hand came striking down on your cunt.  

Your nails dug into Ollie's as your body tightened. Isack's grin only spread like wildfire, hearing the squelches of your cunt get wetter. "That's it, chérie. Already coming close like the perfect slut you are. Come on," he urged, pushing in another finger, cupping the inside of your walls with supernatural speed.  

"Holy shit... is that... is she..." Gabi's lips parted with disbelief.  

Kimi blinked. "I think so..."  

Ollie's eyes widened, your cries in the air as the barriers came down. Thighs clenching around Isack's hard, legs trembling while your vision burned completely white. The orgasm hit you, sweet sounds from your mouth turning silent as the head flooded from your insides. Hot liquid gushing out of your cunt in pulses, soaking everything within your vicinity.  

His forearm. Isack's hand. The couch. Dark splotches like artwork across the fabric.  

Ollie's heart paced ferally in his chest. His movements almost invisible, pushing Isack's hand away as his mouth attached to your cunt, lapping up every last drop he could take. His arms tightly locked around your thighs while you wildly spasmed against his tongue.  

The pain was surreal, stupidly mixed with the resting excitement after Ollie had finally touched you. The tears from your eyes were incessant, leaving you a blubbering mess in front of him. "F-Fu... O-Oll—ngh!" You sobbed out, eyes shut firmly.  

Isack could only chuckle, barely even offended as he grabbed his cock out, propping your face on the arm of the couch. "Look at her," he grunted with disbelief. "Can't even tell him to stop she's fucked so stupid." 

Gabi and Kimi shook their heads, unable to stop themselves from shoving their hands onto their shafts, surrounding you with pure need and desire.  

Your skin burned at Isack's words, cunt pulsing around the animalistic groan of Ollie's against your cunt. Your head peeked down, finding those dark brown eyes staring right back at you. "Oh fuck," you moaned, falling back into the couch, feeling his lips wrap around your clit.  

"It's okay, baby. I won't leave you empty," Isack hissed, pressing the tip of his cock into your mouth, warmness coating him almost instantly as he silenced your cries. "Oh shit. Just like that," he rasped.  

Gabi could only swear under his breath, cock so hard yet again from all the mess you had created. Not even once could he imagine this would’ve happened. At least not like this. And truth be told, he hardly thought it was the aphrodisiacs that were making all of you crazy.  

Your eyes rolled hard, throat almost lax around Isack's cock as the pleasure came crashing down from Ollie's mouth, sweat-covered hips bucking with pain and euphoric slivers, fingers shaking from how hard they dug into the couch.  

"Jesus Christ," Kimi cussed, lower pelvis beginning to keel over. 

Whatever frustration of Ollie's Isack had named earlier on seemed to still be present, lips moving from your cunt only to replace the momentary loss with his aching cock.  

The first sound from Ollie's mouth was guttural. He was as dazed as you were without having done anywhere near as much. His snaps against your hips were rough and deep, making choke around Isack's cock. "You promised. What did you promise, huh?" He grunted yet again, fingers practically injuring your waist from how tight they pressed.  

Your gags filled his ears as his cock weighed heavy in your walls. "You said you'd tell. You'd ask to be fucked stupid. But no... you wanted to play games at the start, hmm?" Ollie chuckled, sound dark and reverent.  

Isack bit his lip, your attempt and talking shooting down his thick length, driving him even crazier.  

"Do you feel stupid now? Could've been fucked like this a long time ago, baby. But you were so desperate to get tease us. To be the slut you are," Ollie spat, flickers falling onto your skin, practically sizzling from the heat.  

All you could hear was everyone's heavy breaths and pants, Gabi and Kimi's hands gliding over their own cocks. Everyone desperately rushing to meet their end with you. And it only made you moan further, pleasure bubbling in your lower stomach.  

Your teary eyes widened at the press of Ollie's fingers against your clit, hand wrapping around his wrist at the sheer sensitivity pulsing through your cunt as he toyed with your balance of pain and pleasure.  

His laugh was instantaneous. "What? It hurts?" Ollie's mocked, fingers rubbing the bundle of nerves as he rutted into you. His grunts became heavy with the tightening of your cunt. Oh fuck... "I know you can handle it. What else are you good for?" 

He tore you.  

Ripped you apart, piece by piece as the orgasm hit you harder than lightning. Harder than any sort of tsunami or earthquake. It was like it was alive. It scolds you. Tames you with every ripple through your core. You think... you think it's the white light at the end of the tunnel. Some blurry line between heaven and hell.  

But you weren't alone.  

Isack, who had been using your mouth like a toy, had faltered, knees weak as he came down your throat, stuffing you with his seed. Kimi and Gabi had let out a string of curses, ropes of cum splattering across your body and the couch. And Ollie... oh Ollie.  

Frozen with this live electricity in his body, he was flushed against you, shaking in sync with you. Feeling your cunt pulse around him, milking every last drop of pleasure from him. Taking his breath away entirely.  

The room laid heavy for a minute or two before Isack quickly moved out of your mouth, hands rushing you tilt prop you back up. You shuddered as Ollie pulled out of you, body aching from the aftermath.  

"Fuck, are you okay?" Isack queried, nudging for Gabi to retrieve some water, concern evident as you coughed, throat aching, and dry tears stained on your cheeks. He grabbed the cup of water, pushing it towards your lips.  

You welcomed the cold fluid gladly, more thirsty than worried about your bruised oesophagus or the drops of water dripping down your chest. You sighed hoarsely as you finished the cup. "That was..." 

"Way too much?" Kimi queried anxiously, cautiously checking over your body as he winced at the sound of your voice.  

"Like you never want to do this again?" Gabi added, hand massaging your temple. 

You breathed heavily, sore eyes drifting towards Ollie who stared silently, kneeling between your legs. You could barely read his gaze. Regret mixed with a selfish amount of arrogance. A horrid combination that should've scared anyone.  

You smiled tiredly. "That was perfect."  

Ollie released the breath he had been unintentionally holding. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, brown eyes watching you carefully as he pulled away. His arms travelled to the sides of your body, scooping you up swiftly. "Come on then. Gabi, go turn on the shower." 

"Okay... from experience, it won't fit all five of us," Gabi began.  

Isack snapped his head to him, hand instantly darting out to whack the back of his head. "Can you shut up and go?" He sighed with annoyance, watching him began to move. "Seriously... the nerve he has," he muttered to Kimi. 

"I don't know where he gets it from," Kimi shook his head, jelly legs beginning to move as the Frenchman followed after him.  

"You promise that wasn't too much?" Ollie murmured, looking down at you as the boys rushed towards the bathroom. "I didn't mean to..." 

You pressed a small kiss to his forearm. "I promise." 

Alex turned from his car, eyes falling to your large tumbler of semi-orange liquid swirling around. He blinked with surprise, familiar with the colour instantly. Cha Nom Yen. "Iced tea? When did you even make this?" 

It was currently nine-thirty in the morning. Alex had only woken up at eight by which point you were in the shower. He couldn't recall any clangs to indicate you were making something.  

"Woke up a little earlier. And yeah. I had all the ingredients on hand so... iced tea. Well, without the ice for now," you chuckled nervously before your tight smile fell. "Unless I should pack some? We could go get some on the way maybe. How long does it take to get there again? Do you think it would melt on the way?" 

A soft chuckle fell from his lips, covering the warm swell in his chest as he detected the worry in your face. He gingerly grabbed the tumbler from your hands. "___, my mother has ice in her house," he reminded with an amused grin.  

You pursed your lips while a flush of embarrassment enveloped your cheeks. "Oh... right. Ha... I knew that," you mumbled. 

Alex smiled hard to himself as he tucked the tumbler away in snuggly between the other items. "Thank you though. You didn't have to do that," he breathed, closing the drunk after one final look over. He raised a brow when you didn't respond. He watched you idly stare into space, clearly overthinking about something.  

He sighed, resting his back on the rear of his car, arms deliciously folded to grab your attention. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're nervous." 

You blinked at the ridiculous accusation. You huffed, tilting your head at Alex. "I don't get nervous, Alex. I have nothing to worry about. People love me,” you narrowed your eyes at him before turning on your heel, heading towards the passenger seat of his car.  

Alex pursed his lips, feeling his car rattle underneath him as you closed the door. "That's my girl," he chuckled, shaking his head. With a quick exhale, he looked at the road ahead, pushing himself off the car to get into the driver's seat.  

Home sweet home... here we come.  

"Alex," you warned, brow pointed as you felt his large hand creep down your thigh as he drove, flirting with the fabric of your skirt, fingers teasingly rising it up your leg. 

Alex took a brief glance at you, corners of his mouth lifting. "What? I'm just resting my hand," he said innocently, turning the wheel to match the curve of the road.  

You rolled your eyes. Yeah, you didn't believe that for a second. "Why can't we have a simple conversation without you acting like a neanderthal?" You retorted, folding your arms while you peered out at the endless trees in the distance.  

He gaped at your words, offence clearly written all over his face. "Well, they say like calls to like." 

A gasp fell from your lips, head snapping to him. "Its 'opposites attract,' Alex," you muttered, knocking his hand away from your leg. How dare he insinuate you were anywhere near his barbaric levels of sex drive? 

"Okay, okay," he chuckled, returning his hand back to your leg. This time simply resting as he so claimed. Mostly idle, fingers trailing over your knees. "What did you want to talk about then?" 

You hummed, looking back out the window. Definitely not about anything related to you. You had poured too much of yourself in front of him in the past few weeks. "What's your favourite memory of Songkran?" 

Alex blinked at your question, not expecting something so oddly profound so early in the morning. He mulled over it as though he was thinking. But the truth was the answer was on the tip of his tongue. It was one of those things he had never really confessed to anyone. Not his family. Not to George.  

Every time he thought about it, his chest tightened and his heart always ached. It never quite got easier.  

You turned to him, noticing the distant look on his face. You frowned. Fuck. "I'm sorry. That's a horrible question. I'll think of another o—" 

"The first one we celebrated when she first came out. That's my favourite," he slowly murmured, voice thick, brown eyes focused on the road.  

You blinked, swallowing hard. Oh God... You shook your head. "Alex, you don't have to say anything. Really," you breathed tightly, smile light as the guilt started to creep up on you. 

"No. It's okay. I want to," Alex smiled quietly, not quite strong nor weak. Just... there. Solemnly existing.  

"It kinda felt like a true beginning, you know? All of us there, together after so long. Laughing. Eating the food she made. Actually talking. Purposely making horrible jokes just to see her smile for a little longer. A fresh new chapter. With her. As a family. There was this one moment. Luca tried to show a magic trick he had learnt. It was so bad. So bad," he chuckled fondly, smile becoming wider. "I remember turning my head while everyone teased him. And I could see it. The light in her eyes. I promised myself that day. That I'd make sure that light was always there." 

The silence in the car was thick. Rumbles of the road beneath and the wind the only source of sound. You watched the horizon with your blurry eyes, biting down on your trembling lip. You weren’t sure what was worse. That sweet memory or the jealousy you had felt. Never had you experienced such closeness with your parents. Constantly walking on thin ice around them.  

God, you felt like the most awful person in the world for feeling this way.  

You sucked in a sharp breath, hastily wiping your tears away from your damp cheeks. You cleared your throat, smiling gently as you turned to Alex. "That was a nice memory. Thank you for telling me." 

Alex frowned, brown eyes darting between the road and you. "Hey, I didn't mean to make you sad," he murmured, hand moving from your leg to trace over where your tears had just been.  

You shook your head, grabbing his hand with yours, leaving them intertwined on your lap. "I'm not," you whispered your lie. "Happy tears," you grinned, giving him a reassuring squeeze.  

He mended his brows. "Has anyone ever told you you're a terrible liar?" 

You pursed your lips, heat pouring into your cheeks instantly. "I'm usually pretty good," you sighed, drifting your eyes out the window.  

"Yeah... not with me," Alex mumbled, thumb running over your hand gently. "I know you better than you think." 

You chewed the inside of your cheek. "Better than Carmen?" You chuckled, head shaking. "No way." 

He sighed, nodding in agreement, lips quirking with amusement. "Maybe not better than Carmen. But... one day." 

Perhaps you should've said something to keep the sound of your heart from echoing in your ears. The version of you that you once knew would’ve said something. 

"In your dreams, Albon," or "Maybe when pigs fly." 

But you kept your mouth shut, letting it drive you a little crazy. Even silencing the warnings to move your hand from his, you sat indifferent by choice.  

You leaned into the dashboard as Alex slowly pulled into the driveway. He had been recounting the neighbourhood he grew up in from the moment he had saw the welcome sign. School, the shops, the post. Where George and him and his first fight. Or that one day when he decided to run away from home and walk all the way to George's house.  

But this was probably the most important part of it all. His cosy, well-loved home with all his well-loved animals roaming around. The Albon Zoo. 

"Well," Alex breathed out, parking the car while he fondly looked over the place. "It's a lot much but it's home." 

You smiled quietly to yourself, trying to imagine little Alex Albon running around here. "It's perfect," you murmured, eyes wide while you traced over all of your new surroundings, matching them to the small stories you had heard over the past few years. George's memories. Alex's versions of them. They all seemed to fit in place.  

Alex turned to you; chest warm and brain giddy. He sighed with content, tapping your hand. "Come on then." 

You nodded in agreement, opening your door. The peace and quiet was brief. Fresh air momentary before chaos came in the form of a water balloon hurled at Alex. Your eyes fell wide once again, head snapping to Alex on the other side of the car, positively drenched from his side.  

"Oh that was good, Zoe!" 

You blinked, turning to the familiar looking siblings lined up, buckets and water guns at hand. Oh wow... Armed and prepared.  

Alex looked down at his left side, shirt wet and stuck to him. He put a hand on his hip, staring at his siblings in disbelief. "You were the one who told me to buy water balloons," he pointed.  

Alicia grinned. "Happy New Years," she simply said before turning to you. "____, right?" 

You nodded silently, feeling stuck in between whatever war was about to ensue.  

Luca held out the bucket of water balloons to you without a second thought. "It's us against Alex." 

Alex's eyes widened, head turning so fast he got whiplash. "Huh?! Ow, shit," he winced as he rubbed his neck. He cautiously walked towards you, soft smile on his face. "____, don't listen to them. They're idiots. Come join the right team, yeah?" 

Your eyes flickered between the two brothers. You swallowed. Decisions, decisions, decisions... You smiled regretfully. "Sorry. I can't really pass up the opportunity to hit you without repercussions." 

Alex's mouth fell. "You..." 

"Attack!" Someone screamed. Chloe, you think. 

And so it began. The chaotic warzone of colourful flying water balloons and targeted streams of water. Alex rushed to defend himself, long arms covering his body, immediately yelping at the catapults of water drowning him. You could barely hear yourself think. Shouts and cheers coming from either direction while you all ran around the driveway.  

You could only chuckle while you aimed for his chest (definitely not for any particular reason), hearing the loud splat of liquid hit him fair and square. The five of you cornered him in seconds. Your feline audience watched from the windows and the horses from their pens. It was Otto, the ever-friendly Border Collie, that jumped along with you, evidently on your side.  

"Okay!" Alex shouted, wiping his soaking face with his arm, looking out through one eye. "Truce! Truce! You're going to blind me like this!" 

Zoe narrowed her eyes at her brother, looking at all of you, asking whether everyone believed him. "Racing made you soft," she sighed dramatically, arms falling to her sides.  

A coy grin stretched onto Alex's face. "Not too soft hopefully." 

You couldn't tell who shrieked first. Alicia or Zoe. But it was worthy as their brother got a hold of the pre-filled balloons himself. It was you, Luca, and Chloe and the frontline, defending the targeted.  

"Oh shit," Luca cussed as he rapidly pressed the button for more water, but none came out. He fretfully looked down at his empty water gun and then up in horror, finding the haunting beam of his brother staring back. "Fuck! I need cover!" 

You and Chloe looked at each other, sighing at you tried to maintain the gaping hole in your defence. Luca, who was probably far too excited about this, now out and reloading. You weren’t sure if it was Alex's overall largeness or just Alex himself, but he had taken out his sister with hands like a windmill, passing and hurling water balloons like there was no tomorrow. Leaving you to defend by yourself.  

You swallowed tightly, trying to muster a joking smile. "Alex... Come on... you know I'm a guest here. What was I supposed to do?" You raised your hands slowly, braving your defence. 

Come on... someone had to come and save you.   

Alex raised a brow, playing with the balloon in his hand casually. "Yeah. My guest. You had a choice. And you chose them over me? You don't even know them yet!" He exasperated, evidently upset. 

You gave him a bland look. "The choice was hitting you with a water balloon," you deadpanned, eyes cautious of his every movement. "How could I say no?" 

You sucked in a sharp breath as he leaned forward, armed hand moving along. Instinctively your eyes closed, waiting for the splash. But it never came. At least not from the front.  

You blinked as you and Alex both looked down at the large, darkened patch of fabric on your skirt.  

"Shit, sorry! That was for Alex," Alicia winced from afar.  

You pressed your lips tightly, flickering your eyes over to Alex with an awkward smile. "Truce?" 

With a grin plastered over his face. "Hard pass." 

And although he had denied it, the truce been claimed as the water balloons with no true target in mind. Luca and Zoe trying to get the upper hand on Alicia and Chloe. A sibling-on-sibling war. It was your wail in the air as Alex hurtled the spherical water towards you, more resting in his other hand.  

With your eyes wide and frantic, you looked for some sort of salvation. Much to your luck was Otto nearby, playing with the running hose, playful barks echoing. With one swift move, you grabbed it, directing it towards him.  

"Oh come on. How is that fair?" Alex exclaimed, dropping his water balloons onto the floor, eyes wincing to protect themselves as his hands went up at the stream of water pouring over him.  

Your laugh made his ears perk and his heart skip. "Now this is what I'm talking about!" You cheered almost a little too happily. All short-lived, however as you stared at Alex's standing figure. Not moving. Not doing anything really.  

You blinked as Alex walked against the curve of water, bracing it in all its chaos. "Ah fuck," you muttered to yourself.  

It took a matter of seconds before Alex had one hand wrapped around your waist, chest to your back, drowning the both of you in a merciless amount of water. You grunted in annoyance, hand fighting for control over the hose. "Alex!" 

"Not so cocky now, are you?" Alex's laugh echoed around your body. 

For a brief moment. No one could describe the absolute sheer amount of happiness coursing through the air. Not of the siblings half-crying out of laughter with every pelted water balloon. Nor how hard Alex's cheeks hurt from smiling. Or how your stomach ached from laughing too hard.  

it was a beauty in of itself. No explanation needed. No snippet that would do it enough justice.  

"And here I was wondering what all this noise was." 

You all paused, shifting your attention to Alex's mother, Minky, leaning on the door frame with a grin. You swallowed hard, pushing yourself out of Alex's arms, tugging on your shirt to make yourself look more presentable as the heat flushed into your cheeks.  

Talk about first impressions.   

"Towels and clothes first and then lunch," She sighed, shaking her head before entering back into her home.  

You cleared your throat awkwardly, half-damp hair framing your face and small towel hanging around your neck. You stared at yourself in Alicia's mirror, eyeing her clothes on your body. "Sorry for the trouble," you sighed, turning to the three sisters.  

Alicia only smiled, seated on her bed as she dried her hair. "Don't be. You couldn't have expected a water balloon fight straight off the bat." 

Zoe nodded, putting down her phone. "We wouldn't of subjected you to that if we knew you were coming. Although, I will say you made it a lot more enjoyable. The more people against Alex, the better." 

You chuckled softly. "Sorry about that too. Alex invited me but I'm intruding," you rubbed the back of your neck. You had partially said yes on a whim. The other part of you not wanting to be alone for the weekend.   

Chloe mended her brows, running a hand through Moomoo's fur. "No way! You've been so busy with the wedding and working... we've been dying to meet you," she heaved dramatically.  

Alicia watched you blink, mulling over her sister's words carefully. Like you were trying to decipher how much they knew about you. The sight made her grin. "We've heard a lot about you in this house." 

You tipped your head slowly. “Right… I can’t imagine they're all good things considering it’s Alex and George," you muttered, head starting to fill with all the possible stories and memories that could have been recited. And the more you did, the more unsure you felt. You had yelled at Alex quite a few times. Okay maybe a lot of times. Teased George relentlessly. The pair together was just easy for you to take down. No... any good things were out of the question.  

The girls chuckled gently as Chloe stood up from the edge of her sister's bed. "They've all been good. Pretty, nice, hardworking, gorgeous, kind-hearted... I mean the list of adjectives goes on." 

You mended your brows despite the heat pouring into your skin. "That does not sound like Alex,” you mumbled. Or reflective of reality, you wanted to add. In fact, none of this seemed to add up. Almost six years of fighting back and forth and this was the rep you had earned in his house? One of saint? 

Zoe grinned. "As annoying as he can be, he's a lot nicer than you think." 

You pursed your lips. Months ago, you would’ve refuted the idea with some witty comment on the tip of your tongue. But nothing seemed to rattle your brain. God, what was wrong with you? Had you really gone soft over some good sex? 

"Can you guys hurry up?" Luca yelled from downstairs. "I'm starving over here." 

The comment earned an eye roll from Chloe. "We should leave. The prince awaits." 

Your brows raised with surprise as your eyes glossed over the dining table full of food. The colours seemed to be endless as much as the choices. Rice dishes, curries, salads, and then the bowl of mango sticky rice already calling your name. You smiled to yourself. You had never seen a table quite like this. Made for more than three. So much to go around and so much to share.  

"You guys took forever," Luca sighed dramatically, eliciting a whack from Alicia to his head. 

"Thank you for this, sweetie," Alex's mother smiled at you as she placed down your tumbler of iced tea now full of the ice she most definitely did have. "And thank you for joining us! Especially on Songkran. I know you're a busy woman." 

You breathed in, hand waving in dismissal, not giving the time to process how much everyone seemed to know about you. "Pfft... no problem. I should thank you for letting me like... barge in," you chuckled awkwardly and unrecognisably. God, you weren't always like this in front of new people, were you? 

Her shoulders shook with amusement. You were as endearing as Alex said you were. She gestured for you to take the seat across her as her eldest came in, ruffling Chloe and Zoe's hair with ease. 

"Alex!" Chloe grumbled, slapping away his hand. "God, can this break end any quicker?" 

Alex narrowed his eyes as he passed his mother to take his seat, lips briefly pressed against the side of her head. "Took the words right out my mouth," he hummed, sarcastic smile stretched onto his face while he sat next to you.  

There was that saying. 'Time flies when you're having fun.' You never really knew how much truth there was to it until now. Because the minutes seemed to disappear as countless stories were shared and retold. Laughs and exclaims echoed throughout the home. Everyone, with their own lives, converging into one.  

You found it hard to forget the sight of Alicia and Zoe crying with laughter and their mother holding her stomach as Luca recited his most recent experience at work. Or how attentive Alex and Chloe were, ensuring everyone's plates were being replenished every now and then. Or how many questions you had gotten despite being the local celebrity in the house. 

You noticed how there was not one comment or question about racing. As though in these four walls, it was an unwritten norm. You could see how much more comfortable it made Alex too. One moment where everything wasn't about him. But about the people he loved. That there more to him than a track and a car.  

You blinked at the gentle nudge to your knee, head turning over to Alex. You raised your brows.  

"You okay? You been so quiet," Alex murmured as the conversation continued around you. It wasn’t usually like you. By now he thought you'd have entirely thrown him under the bus, joined in on every degrading conversation his siblings had told. But instead, you had only spoken up a few times, leaving him wondering whether you were indeed having a good time or not.  

You swallowed at the slightly concerned brown eyes wavering over you. You smiled lightly, giving him a brief nod. "Is it weird to say I don't think I've been happier?" You whispered.  

He raised a brow. "More than Carmen's wedding?" He teased.  

You huffed, amusement washing over your face. "Don't push it now." 

Alex grinned, looking over the table, able to match your tone to the atmosphere, taking a step into your shoes. He nodded after a moment. "As annoying as they are... they're pretty cool," he sighed, rolling his eyes as he turned back to you.  

You chuckled softly, falling quiet at Alex's warm gaze. Time as it stood seemed still with neither of you quite looking away. From all angles, the seconds were far too long. Long enough for you to describe the different shades of brown in his eyes. To understand that your happiness was mirrored in those very eyes.  

It made your stomach churn. Giddy almost.  

But you had heard it. The incessant vibration of your phone that brought you back to reality. You both blinked, taken aback as you looked away. Releasing the breath you had unintentionally been holding, you grabbed your phone, sending him an apologetic smile as you stood up and excused yourself.  

The fresh air felt cold against your skin as you stepped outside, shaking off the strange whir in your heart. You looked down at your ringing phone, sighing at the name sprawled across the screen.  

"You aren't home. It's your day off," your mother stated so obviously. "Why didn't you tell me you were going out?" 

You pinched the bridge of your nose tiredly. You knew it was a mistake syncing your work calendar to your parents' phone. You should have just created a fake calendar. "Because I'm an adult pushing thirty and we're not talking," you simply said.  

A sigh could be heard from the other side. "Beta, stop being so stubborn. It doesn't look good. What will people say if they learned I gave you such manners?" 

You closed your eyes, biting down on your tongue to stop the first few unthought sentences from coming out and making matters worse. You breathed in slowly. "Then they'll know where they came from," you retorted, leaning back on the cladding of Alex's house. 

Your name came spilling from her mouth in an instant, basked in reprimand. You pursed your lips. "You know this call isn't really sounding like an apology or anything really," you grumbled, eyeing the patches of grass in the distance.  

"I really don't understand what had gotten into you, ___," your mother huffed, mother tongue flowing easily as her temper climbed as quick as yours. "I'm providing you guidance. I'm being a good parent, and this is the thanks I get? What have I done to get such a daughter?" 

You had heard those words time and time again over the course of your life. Often said when things weren't going her way. And yet, the pure annoyance you felt never quite felt the same. Always worse than the time before.  

It was hard to imagine you were living the some of the happiest moments in what was relatively a stranger's house just moments ago and now you were standing outside, skin burning with anger, jaw clenched, and frown fixed. Any time you even felt a bit jubliant, your mother seemed to know the perfect time to take it away.  

You pulled your phone away from your ear, staring at your screen as your mother's voice continued to work through the speakers, her scold endless. With your shoulders heavy and your eyes tired, your thumb glided over the button, pressing it without another second thought.  

You breathed in, turning your phone off and tucking it into your pocket. Folding your arms, you tried to welcome the sudden silence despite the echoes in your ears and despite the immediate guilt in your chest.  

No. You need this. Just for one moment. No work. No nagging. Just fields of grass and an endless number of animals roaming around. 

You took one more deep breath in, nodding firmly to yourself. "Yeah. Grass and animals. That’s definitely what it is," you mumbled as you turned on your heel, heading inside.  

"And this is where I grew up," Alex mumbled, leaning on the doorframe as you entered his childhood bedroom.  

You raised your brows at the spotless room. It seemed unchanged, representing the few peak years of his childhood he had spent in here. Dark blue walls littered in posters of F1 cars and different engine parts. A few drivers joined the mix too—Lewis, Michael, and Sebastian. Two shelves stood in the corner of the room. One full of mini figurines and books. The other of all his racing memorabilia. Trophies, awards, helmets.  

You stepped forward, leaning into the photo frames sprawled on the top of his dresser. You blinked with surprise. Different countries. Thailand. France. Singapore. Belgium. New Zealand. All with different subjects: mountains, roads, storefronts, and people. 

"You took these?" You asked in slight awe, picking up the photo of him in front of the Silverstone track with George as kids. You grinned at the sight. God, they were so little.  

"Yeah. Thought if I couldn't bring everyone with me, I could bring some part of me to them," Alex explained quietly, still startling you as he hovered behind you. He smiled at your reaction, looking back at the photo you held. "That one's my favourite. I bet George for the first time that day." 

You snorted, shaking your head. "Of course you did," you sighed, placing the frame back down. You turned, hands instinctively propped on the dresser as Alex hovered over you, arms on either side of you. You swallowed at the sight of his lingering gaze, forcing your eyes to drift around his room. "Well... this room is very you." 

Alex hummed with a small smile. "Yours look anything like mine?" He queried.  

You pursed your lips, thinking back to your room in your parents' house. "Well, when it existed, I had four shelves of books, a sad desk, and a bed with the hardest mattress in the world to ensure I was 'disciplined,'" you mumbled with distaste. "So... no. Nothing like yours." 

He raised a brow. "'When it existed?'" He repeated, confusion apparent on his face.  

You chuckled softly, folding your arms. "I moved out for halfway through uni for my placements, which of course, they weren't happy about. So my mum decided the only sensible decision was converting my room into a storage unit. She thought I'd be better off sleeping at the hospital," you rolled your eyes.  

A frown made its way onto Alex's face. That was brutal. He eyed your bitter face cautiously, mulling over his future choice of words. But hell, he was sure even the nicest sentences were going to make you scowl. "___, I think you should try fix things with your parents. Your mum, especially." 

You snapped your eyes to Alex, brows furrowed. "What?" 

"The call earlier on... that was her, wasn't it? You didn’t look particularly as happy as you left when you came back," he muttered. 

It was true. Even as you returned to the lunch, you found it difficult to smile or laugh for too long. Like your mind was somewhere else. Perturbed. 

You blinked; astonished Alex had even detected it. Either you had done a poor job masking it or he had learned to know you better than you thought. You sighed, staring down at his carpeted floor. "It's the same old thing with her. I just wanted one day without her input but no..."  

"You know she means well. All parents do. They just want the best for you," Alex murmured, hands moving to your shoulders with comfort.  

You gave Alex a bland look. "No offense Alex but it’s different when your parents just want you to live for them. Almost thirty years of every single one of my choices reflecting on them. What people will think about them. Say about them. It’s exhausting." 

He nodded slowly. "You're right. I don’t understand it. But as someone who didn't get a choice in whether mine were around or not, you should make up with them. Otherwise, you'll only have lost time. Time you never get back. Time you'll regret." 

You swallowed tightly, a pang coursing through your heart when you spotted glint of pain in your eyes. You sucked in a sharp breath, hand moving to pat his waist as you nodded. “Okay. I’ll… I’ll think about it," you smiled gently.  

Alex breathed a little easier, nodding with you. "Thank you," he murmured, kissing the side of your head, lingering for a moment.  

You both jumped at the sudden sound of someone clearing their throat. You peeked past Alex's shoulders, cheeks instantly flaming when you spotted Alicia standing at the doorframe with a gentle smile. You pushed him away with a little force, giving your attention to his sister awkwardly.  

"I just came to tell you that dinner's ready,” Alicia shrugged, smile growing wider with every passing second. "See you down there," she sang, stepping back from the door and heading towards the staircase.  

You bit down on your lip, resisting the urge to sigh so loudly. For fuck's sake. You turned to Alex who seemed far more casual about this than you were. "How do you explain to your family that we’re… hooking up?"  

Alex almost winced at the sore reminder. Right. This was what you were doing. Sneaking around. Hooking up. That's why you were here. At his childhood home. In his sister's goddamn clothes, chatting to his family like you had known them for ages. Kissing you randomly because that was what friends or acquaintances or whatever did.  

He cleared his throat. "Trust me. Alicia won’t say anything." 

You raised a brow. He seemed confident. "You're really sure about that?" You queried. 

Alex nodded. Of course his sister wouldn't say anything. It was Alicia who had done all the probing around you to begin with, letting everyone in the family get a pretty good idea of how he felt about you without him even saying it directly. 

"Come on. Let's have dinner before she comes back up here again." 

Dinner went about as smoothly as you could have expected. It took all of five seconds before you heard one sibling complain to another—Zoe and Luca torn over what sauce was actually used in the main dish.  

You had learnt of even more family stories. The ones about George staying over (which you would have to tell Carmen later). Alex as an animal-loving kid. The adventures of the three sisters and honorary sister, Luca. Small bits and pieces and of their lives you genuinely wished you were there for. Siblings... you had always wanted them. A selfish part of you wanting to distribute the burden of perfection. Another where you weren’t so miserable.  

Because it allowed for simple moments like this, washing the dishes, memorable.  

"So... you're a doctor," Alex's mother started, seated as you and Alicia cleaned up the remnants of dinner because you both refused to let her do anymore work for the evening. The four other siblings had been banished to take care of the animals before the night ended. She leaned her chin on the back of her chair, watching the both of you quietly. "How do you find it?" 

You blinked, surprise sprawling onto your face as you washed the plates. You had heard that statement many times. People often retorted with, "It must be nice," or "how does it feel to be the perfect immigrant child?" Some sort of assumption based in it. But the response very seldom was "How did you find it?" Usually no one cared.  

You breathed in, actually having to think about it while you continued to scrub the plate in your hands. "Um... the space and people can be challenging. Some days are harder than others, you know? In sickness and in health," you muttered with a small sigh. "The balance between reward and taking a toll is a hard one." 

Alicia pursed her lips, drying the plate you had given her, curiosity beginning to climb. "Did you always want to be one? What did you dream about before?" 

You mended your brows, rummaging your brain for an automated answer. But nothing seemed to come about. No matter how hard you searched or how hard you thought... you couldn't find a time where you had dreamt for yourself.  

You flitted your eyes to the quiet stares, patient and that slight bit concerned. You forced a small chuckle from your throat, embarrassment seeping into the tips of your ears. "Probably whatever kids wanted to be at the time. Astronauts, artists, actors..." You trailed off, unable to move away from the first few alphabetical jobs you could think of.  

Minky smiled quietly. "Well, I'm proud of you, honey. Not easy to go through what you’ve gone through.”

You swallowed her words, slowly scrubbing the plate in front of you. She probably had no idea what she meant. Or the extent of your situation. But the look in her eye and the warm tone in her voice told you that even if she didn’t quite know, she understood. A mother's intuition when you seemed to lack some in your own life.

Clearing your throat, you gave her a brief smile. "Thank you." 

The quietness was momentary, lasting over the last few dishes you had remaining. Not awkward nor uncomfortable. Just stagnant and present as Alicia recounted a few things here and there about the neighbourhood or the family, filling in the stillness.  

Stepping away from the sink as you dried your hands on the nearby tea towel, you moved your eyes from the empty sink to Alicia and her mother. You drew a quick breath and smiled. "Well... it's probably time for me to go," you murmured, giving a small glance towards the darkening evening sky.  

Minky frowned, beginning to stand up. "Are you sure you have to go, honey? You can stay the night. We really don't mind. We'd be more than happy to have you."  

Your chest ached at her warmness. With a brief heave, you nodded. "Yeah. The hospital doesn’t wait," you pressed your lips together. "Besides... you're already forcing Alex to drop me off when I said it was okay, so," you muttered with an awkward chuckle.  

Alicia grinned at you. "He would've suggested it I didn't," she shrugged simply.  

You blinked, cheeks warming at her slightly narrowed gaze. "Right..." You trailed off with a curt nod.  

Minky kept her smile down and you watched her inch towards you with her arms out. "Come back anytime, okay? My door will always be open for you," she mumbled against your shoulder, patting your back as she hugged you.  

You couldn't help but laugh quietly, returning the gesture. "That is a lot of trust for someone you just met," you teased, pulling back, finding Alicia opening her arms too.  

"Between you and me," Alicia started, voice quiet and humoured as she hugged you, "something tells me she's known you for a while. All of us, really." 

You furrowed your brows as you pulled away, confusion evident on your face. What was that supposed to mean? Like one of those connections from a previous life?   

Alicia only kept grinning as Alex called your name, leaning on the frame of the front door as the rest of the siblings came pouring in. "You ready?" He asked, car keys in his hand, narrowed gaze flickering over his sister and mother. They were up to something. They always usually were.  

You nodded, giving one last smile to his family. “Thanks for having me, guys. I really enjoyed it. Happy Songkran." 

"I'm happy to find that the spare key I gave you is in use," Carmen said dryly as she found you sitting in her apartment, still in your scrubs, half-awake while you responded the never-ending emails piling up in your inbox.  

You only sighed loudly, shutting your phone off, sitting up on her couch while you watched her lock the door, resting her bag on the table nearby. Your brows furrowed when she grimaced at the sight of your face. "What?" You grumbled. 

Carmen fell onto the couch, body relaxed while she shook her head. "You look like shit. I mean you’re beautiful... but you look like shit." 

You pursed your lips. Well... you supposed honesty was the first thing you could expect from this many years of friendship with Carmen. You rolled your eyes, tossing her the bag of crisps you had been munching on. "Yeah, well a bunch of idiots in the ER will do that to you." 

She raised a brow, leaning in to eye the crease on your forehead. That was a lot of 'creasage' just for your usual ER assholery. "And? You seem to be leaving out something," she mumbled. 

Hmm... perhaps there was such a thing as being too honest. But she was right. You were leaving out something. While you had informed her that you weren't particularly on great terms with your mother, you had also possibly left her to believe that it was all sorted out.  

Evidently, that was not the case.   

"She said what when you were at his house?" Carmen huffed, eyes wide after you had rebooted her system with the updated knowledge. 

You and Carmen knew almost everything about each other. Almost. She had always known you had kept away from certain topics, especially those involving your family. And while she didn’t particularly like it seeing as she felt like you could share anything with her, she respected your choice. A cultural barrier she couldn't quite get past. But now you were here, sharing that part of you, leaving her to fit the pieces of your puzzle together.   

"It's like she can't get past it," you sighed, rubbing your temples from the headache forming.

"And I get it. That's how she's been raised. But isn't there so much more to being married and having a family? Like how do you know that’s something you actually want and aren't socially conditioned to want? No offence, of course. I mean this is exactly why I moved out. I can’t stand having to hear about what she wants for me again and again." 

Carmen popped a crisp into her mouth, mulling over your words. It was one thing for your mother to talk about your future and another to ironically add 'neighbourly' Alex into this mix of it. Between your lies, cover-ups, and what you didn't want to admit, the intersection of them all had entirely caught you out.  

"Well," she breathed, looking back at you. "What do you want?" 

You sighed, reaching over to grab some crisps. "I don't know. To be free? And make my own choices without having to care what people think?" You huffed. 

Carmen pulled a face as she stared at you. That was probably your biggest problem in life. As tough and stubborn as you looked, you cared a little too much about what people thought. All of it wasn't exactly your fault. Your parents had embedded it into you since you were a kid. The desperate need to fit in when you didn't belong.  

"You know... there's always a little bit of guilt when you start choosing yourself. But when you do, its like a breath of fresh air and the guilt becomes almost nonexistent." 

You thought over her words carefully, brows beginning to furrow as you did. "What does choosing myself even look like? Being isolated in my apartment and changing my key so my mother doesn't walk in?" 

Carmen rolled her eyes, folding her legs as she turned to face you a little more. Setting aside the crisps, she grabbed your hands gently, warm smile sprawling onto her face. "It means having time for yourself. Creating boundaries with your mother. Maybe... even choosing Alex," she murmured quietly.  

You blinked. "What?" 

A heavy sigh fell from Carmen's lips. "Come on, ____. How long are we going to do this for? You hated him. He... hated you," she strangely paused. "Sure, that's how it began but you can’t genuinely believe that what you're doing right now is just 'hooking up.' Friends don't take friends to see their parents some random day. To meet their entirely family. Can you honestly sit here and tell me you feel nothing for him?" 

Your cheeks flamed at the voiced thoughts you had been thinking about for the past few weeks now. How abnormal things had gotten between you and Alex.  

You breathed in, body tensing. "I thought we were talking about my mother. Not Alex." 

Carmen snorted. "Yeah, like those aren't intertwined," she huffed, watching you clamp up all over again. She just didn't understand. What was it that got you so terrified and serious when it came to Alex and the future? 

"Alex and I are nothing," you simply said, voice evenly strained as you remove your hands from hers. "There was nothing ever to begin with and it'll never be possible." 

Carmen narrowed her eyes. She could almost hear it in your sentences. But I want it to be. She chewed on the inside of her cheek before speaking, "That's the fear talking." 

A curt laugh fell from your mouth. "You sound like my mother," you muttered with distaste. 

"You know I don't mean it like that," Carmen sighed, reaching out for your hand again. "Look. I don't know what it is... why you're so hellbent on being against this. But you're my best friend. I just want to see you happy, ___." 

You forced the tight smile onto your face. "I am perfectly happy." 

Alex breathed hard, sweat rolling down his skin as he looked down at his watch, eyeing the double digits he had just ran in the park. They were much further than he had expected. And despite his uneven breaths, he barely felt tired. He couldn’t explain it but ever since he had returned from visiting his family, he had had a surge in his energy.  

It was an odd thing really. Smiling out of nowhere. Staring off into space. The air felt fresher than spring itself. Colours were brighter. The smell of nature stronger. As if no little thing could inconvenience him.  

Because for the first time in his life, he had a little bit hope.  

He had spent most of the past few years snubbing it, thinking there was no possible chance, no possible universe where you and him could've worked. Because what really was a relationship preceded by hate? 

But it had been simmering the moment you had brought up the idea at the wedding. The moment he had walked into your apartment. And fuck, he had felt it when you met his family. 

Sure. It was a corny realisation, if one could call it that. You hadn't entirely freaked out when his sister had caught you two. Watching you get along with his family, with his mother... join them as if you had known them for years... free of any judgement from what he had told you about his life... yeah, call him crazy but he was hopeful.  

Alex smiled to himself quietly, trying to casually look at the bright sky without drowning in the sound of his own heartbeat thumping in his ears. He rubbed his face with his hand, taking a deep breath, head shaking. God... he was so screwed. He had known it before but letting himself feel more than he usually did, it just felt so good. 

"Hey, Alex!" 

He turned, blinking at the unfamiliar voice. His parted lips turned into a polite smile almost instantly, warmth in his chest dying down rapidly. "Hey, Emily," he greeted awkwardly. "What's going on? It's been a while."  

Emily nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, it has. Well, you know. It's the same old thing. Work, sleep, eat... in whatever order," she sighed before perking up once again. "How about you? Here because of the cancelled races?" 

Alex tipped his head slowly. "Yup... just training and making the most of this break," he shrugged, scratching the back of his neck as the silence began to seep in. God, let this just end now.  

"Um..." Emily shifted on her feet, eyes darting around the park. "This is gonna sound really weird and random, but can I ask you a question?" 

Alex pressed his lips together at the building hope in her eyes and voice. Lord... this was really about to happen, wasn't it?

He sighed, brain trying to rummage for the right words. "Emily, let me just make it clear and I should have ages ago, but I'm not looking for anyone. I'm flattered and you're a great girl, but I've found my person." 

Emily blinked, cheeks flaming almost instantly. "Oh," she murmured after a moment. "I'm sorry, Alex. I must have read things wrong." 

"No, no. That was my fault. I might have unintentionally led you on and I really am sorry," Alex added with a fretful smile.  

She nodded slowly, lips stretched awkwardly. "It's ____, isn't it? Your person?" 

It was Alex's turn to flush. He sucked in a sharp breath. "Seems to be obvious to everyone but her," he mumbled jokingly.  

Emily huffed with amusement. "Probably should've realised at the club, huh? I tried to fool myself a little, trying so hard to make things what it wasn't. But the heart knows what it wants, right?" 

Alex swallowed tightly. "Yeah," he whispered audibly. He gave her one more smile, light and warm. "But you'll find your person, Emily. I'm sure of it." 

Emily laughed quietly. "Thanks, Alex. For what it’s worth, I hope you and ____ work it out. Maybe invite me to your wedding, yeah? I'll take some of that wedding magic in the air." 

He snorted. "Fingers crossed," he sighed, audaciously letting himself think that far ahead into the future for a brief second.  

God, he hoped.  

"Hey, whatever happen to that baby in the ED?" Alex queried as you sat, half-slung across the couch in your scrubs while he cooked you dinner—pad krapao. Another trivial thing you didn’t want to get into. it meant nothing. It was just dinner.  

You lifted your head from the second lot of research articles you had were getting through. With your brows raised, you stared at Alex in the kitchen with confusion. Remembering every single patient who came through your doors was never an option. If you were lucky enough, you could remember to have breakfast before you left.  

You blinked before your face lit up with recognition. "Oh, the preemie" you deducted, returning your eyes back to the article at hand. "She's still in the NICU, but I will say she's a fighter. Mum's good too. We're not really supposed too but Sam and I go and check on her every now and then. You get a little bit of hope when you look at babies. After all the chaos, you know?" 

Alex turned down the heat, nodding slowly as he inched towards you. Resting his arms over the head of the couch, he hovered over you with small smile. "Do you ever want kids?" 

You almost choked on your spit, wide eyes peering up at him. "What?" You queried with disbelief.  

He shrugged, still delirious after his run this morning. "We're getting into our thirties. Isn't this when everyone tells us to start planning or something? Don't you think about the future? I don’t know... kids, marriage..." He trailed off awkwardly, regret already pouring into him.

Perhaps this wasn't the best question to ask when you were out of work and he was carried away, in his own world entirely.  

Hell. You were in hell. That was the only way you could explain it.  

First, it was your mum. then it was Carmen. And now... now Alex, which by all means was far worse.  

Future this, future that... what the hell was going on? Whatever happen to living in the present? 

You raised a brow, putting your articles down on your lap. "Be honest, did my mum put you up to this?" You asked, pushing yourself off the couch, feet already inching towards your bedroom. Anywhere was better than the few metres holding this conversation. "Because if she did, my best advice would be not to listen to her. I'm just going to freshen up. Be out soon!" You called out, closing the door behind you.  

Alex furrowed his brows, letting the sudden silence of your apartment fall over him. He had seen you shut down many things in his life. Most of which involved him. His nonsense. George's ideas. Carmen's odd opinion. But he had never seen you quite like this. Evasive.  

"Is that a glow on your face? Like a love glow?" George queried teasingly as he entered his best friend's apartment.  

"Shut up," Alex huffed, rolling his eyes despite the small smile on his face.  

George grinned, taking a seat onto his couch as his eyes wandered over his surroundings. "No, I really think it is. You're smiling even though your car's shit. And your apartment's clean—" 

"—My apartment's always clean." 

"What absolute bollocks," George retorted. He had known Alex long enough and shared enough rooms to know that the man was well acquainted with the word 'pigsty'. Once he had lost his favourite car figurine in Alex's room at the age of thirteen. He had found it again when he was eighteen. The maths wasn't hard.  

Alex sighed, opening his fridge to bring out the isolated beer bottles he had collected in his fridge. Technically they weren't supposed to be drinking. But they were going to be back on the tracks soon. One last hurrah and a kept secret from their trainers wouldn't hurt. 

"So... how's the married life? Is it everything you ever dreamed of?" Alex kidded, grin on his face light as he passed the beer bottle to George and took a seat across him.  

George raised a brow, corners of his mouth teetering as he brough the bottle to his lips. "Come on," he sighed, "you know this is more about you than it is about me. I'm solid. Life is near perfect withoutateenagerinmyway, but I digress." 

Alex snorted before sucking in a sharp breath, casually shrugging his shoulders. "Nothing much really going on." 

"Right..." George nodded slowly. "So you're not like deeply besotted... I don't even know the right word—oh, in love, with ___? Because last time I checked, you were 'not falling' and just hooking up with the idea that this would have no repercussions. Not, you know, getting her to meet your family." 

Alex curled his tongue around the light, crisp taste of beer in his mouth and pointed to George. "You are a horrible friend." 

A chuckle fell from George's mouth. "I'm your only friend." 

Alex rolled his eyes again, head shaking as he sighed. "I don't know, George. It's getting harder to pretend." 

"Are you pretending?" His friend queried, fingers wrapped around the beer bottle, one leg over the other and arm stretched out over the couch head. "You're just hiding under the name of hooking up. Everything you do is real and with intention. It’s just that ___ doesn't know that." 

Alex blinked. There were a few times in his life where George terrified him with his knowledge. And this was one of them. It was like he knew exactly what to say.  

"Okay... so I'm hiding. I'm not sure how much longer I can do this for. And yes, before you start, I know you told me this was a bad idea. But the lines have been crossed. I'm royally fucked and I have no idea what to do," Alex sighed, taking another swig.  

George closed one eye in thought, lips pursed. "You could... I don't know... tell her? 

Genius. This man was an absolute genius. Because yes, sometimes, the brightest ideas did in fact come from a midday beer. "Thank you, Einstein," Alex deadpanned, hitting George's foot with his own.  

Sure, he could tell you. But then what? He could see the blowback from the present. Everything he had worked on... all those memories and conversations... they'd disappear. If there was one thing he knew, you'd a hundred percent pretend like it didn't happen.  

George looked over at Alex, finding him deep in thought. "Alex, if you're seeing forever with her then show her you're ready to be her forever. You made a routine over the break. You're consistent and reliable. Now show her that you can be her future too." 

Alex pursed his lips. 

Well, fuck.  

That was easier said than done.  

In the very same time frame Osar was supposed to be receiving praise and getting race wins, came Kimi Antonelli. The monster rookie. The new Verstappen who replaced the Sir Lewis Hamilton's seat. 

It wasn't like Oscar hadn't heard of him. He had always heard of him down the line. The kid in the Mercedes' junior line up. A racing prodigy. A sweet guy with all the Italian charm. When he heard Kimi was racing in F2, skipping the previous level, he had even thought of extending his hand. Sure, you couldn't be friends with everyone on track. But it didn't hurt to try.  

But Oscar was sorely mistaken.  

The ego-boosting headlines and the compliments had gotten to Kimi. He walked, no—he strode with pride. Innocent brown eyes filled with a disgusting shade of smugness that no driver could fathom. His lips in a constant curved smirk. Complaints and complaints on the tip of his tongue when nothing went his way. The coy downplay of his achievements at such as young eage. How easily he manipulated Toto and Susie to get what he wanted.  

It was different kind of art. A sick, satrical version of it. How easy the Italian charm had faded away.  

And always by his side was you. Kimi's pride and joy. His girlfriend of three years, always wrapped around his arm.  

You... You were the worst part of it all. 

Oscar had seen you like everyone else had. You were simply gorgeous. Oscar could never forget how slowly his head had turned when you had first entered the paddock. The double take he had taken along with everyone else, watching your every move.  

Everything about you seemed perfect.  

Your sparkly wide eyes. Pretty painted lips. Soft, boisterous laugh. Perfectly styled hair. Perfume that made all in your trail dizzy. You talked with your heart rather than your mind. You were a good person. Pure. Whole. Anyone could see that from a mile away.  

It was then when Oscar had locked eyes with Kimi, spotting that smirk on his stupid face and that evil glint in those brown eyes. A look of acknowlegement. Yes. It was you next to him. Not next to Oscar. Not next to anyone else.  

Oscar would never forget that very moment where Kimi's head had leaned down just a little, lips gliding over your ear to whisper something that made you laugh while his hand creeped down your waist, to your lower back and right over your ass. Fingers slightly while as he groped you shamelessly. And not a second later, his lips were on yours, kissing you deeply and messily, tongue out without any hurry. Like there weren't any cameras on him.  

He remembered your flushed cheeks while you kissed Kimi back. Eyes a little wide with disbelief but still you had kissed him anyways, smile apparent on your face. Small hands reaching for his sleeves to brace yourself.  

Then there was that mix of disgust and anger that rushed through Oscar's body. He genuinely couldn't believe it. How could anyone dating you treat you like that in public? Like you were a plaything. A trophy.  

And that's how it had gone on for months. That superiority Kimi welded with you by his side. Making you sit on his lap at dinners, hands travelling carelessly under the short skirts and dresses he had gotten you. Interrupting interviews just to go and kiss you on the camera. Letting those videos of you and him in the nightclub get posted where you danced together. 

And while it seemed like things were all sunshines and rainbows for the both of you, Oscar could see the truth for what it was. Kimi had no respect for you. In fact, he was horrible to you.  

Because behind Kimi's handsy fingers and clingy mouth were the arguments in the quiet parts of the paddock. The ones where he would make your pretty eyes cry and then pretended to kiss them better. Where he constantly made you question yourself and belittled you in front of others. Then he'd let your eyes light up with the fake promises of a future together. He didn't really let you talk to anyone either unless it made him look good.  

And you had no idea. Simply believing him with your heart. The epitome of 'love makes you blind.' 

You were like an innocent lamb in the dirty hands of Kimi's.  

It had gotten worse this season.   

The consistent wins and praise had made Kimi delirious. If he was careless before, he had not a single inch of it in him any longer. With the whispers of a Championship-winning car and a talent one people wouldn't see for years, he was driven by the foundation of immature confidence.  

Perhaps that's why Oscar had heard what he had heard in China. Seen what he had seen.  

It was Lando, Oscar, and George conversing between the Mercedes and McLaren garages. Talking about the cars and whatnot while the paddock had finally become quiet after the race. Some teams were still in their debriefs, some packing up. The sun threatening to settle, orange mixed lightly into the air.  

The conversation was coming to a swift end, Lando and George citing how they needed to grab their things from their hotel before they all met for the private flight back to Monaco. The two of them had barely walked away before Oscar had heard it.  

A deep mewl in the air.  

Oscar blinked, brows furrowed as he turned towards the Mercedes' garage. He couldn't see anyone nearby. The place empty with a majority of the team still in another debrief. He would've taken a step back and joined Lando but then he had heard it again. 

"Oh fuck!" 

Call it curiosity. But Oscar's legs seemed to move on their own, defying the rules of non-personnel entering the garage while he quietly walked onto enemy territory. It didn't take him long to navigate, the ins and outs similar to any other garage. The sounds became louder and louder with every step he took. Yet he couldn't quite discern them. 

But when he did, it made his feet stop and his blood freeze.  

He stood outside of Kimi's driver's room. It not just any sound coming into the air. It's yours. Hands imprinting onto the blurred iced-glass door, your shadowed figure could barely be made out. Your moans travelled through the glass with bare deviation from the lewd, deep slaps of skin echoing around what felt like his skull.  

"Louder, belle. Let them hear who makes you feel this good," Kimi grunted shamelessly. "God, you're so pathetic. This turned on when anyone can hear you. You make a good whore, don't you?" 

His chuckle was deep and mocking. And yet, your trembling moans merged into the air.  

Oscar could hear it. Your sharp pants. Desperate and needy. "More," you begged. "Deeper." 

Oscar blinked, breathing in deeply while he took a shaky step back. Fuck, this was so wrong. He could barely think with your sweet sounds tainted by Kimi's disgusting insults. It felt like he was watching a crime being committed.  

The struggle grounded him for a few moments. Not willing to move. But the idea of you reaching any sort of end with Kimi made a thin layer of bile crawl up Oscar's throat. So he moved before he could hear it, feet quick and light. 

He was sweating by the time he reached the McLaren suite, mind haywired, breath erratic while he tried to block out those sounds. That was a mistake, right? Something he had come across on pure accident. Yes. That was it. Kimi wasn't so vain that he'd just put you out there for anyone to listen to. That was an accident.  

Nothing more. Nothing less.  

But by the time Oscar had reached the private jet, he had once again been proven wrong. He was there, backpack slung across his back and suitcase rolling next to him as he arrived to find Lando and George waiting near the stairs of the plane.  

Oscar raised a brow. "What are you guys waiting for? Shouldn't you be onboard?" He queried. 

"I..." Lando said wordlessly, awkwardly looking over at George who looked slightly paler than usual. Neither of them could bring it up. The mere idea too shameful.  

"What?" Oscar pressed, sighing when no response was given. He moved forward, pushing past them to get up the stairs. By the time he was through the door, it had become evident as to why those two were waiting outside. 

"Oh fuck. That's it," Kimi's voice flew from the bathroom down the aisle. 

Oscar's fingers instantly tightened around his suitcase. His stomach churned with disgust as his brain familiarised itself with the situation once again. The sounds of you against one another was far less muted this time. Your whimpers curling around Oscar's ears. 

He couldn't tell what was worse. The fact that the plane hadn't even gotten off the ground yet or the fact Oscar wasn't the only one subjected to this. His coworkers down below. The staff of the plane awkwardly trying to resume their job. All while Kimi was burning your dignity to the floor.  

"You gonna cum for me, belle? Yeah?" 

Oscar's breath quickened as Kimi's voice tightened.  

"Tell me, baby. Who makes you feel this good?" 

Oscar sucked in a sharp breath, annoyance simmering in his blood.  

"You. You do, Kimi," you sobbed, gasp heavenly with every push forward harsher than before. "Kimi, Kimi—I'm going to—" 

A smug moan fell from his lips. "I know, I know. Everyone's going to know how good I make you feel, belle."  

Oscar regretted staying this time. He should've left the moment he had realised. He shouldn't have stayed to hear the sinful draw out of your voice nor the useless wavering grunt of Kimi's. Then he wouldn't of seen Kimi coming out of the bathroom, still shifting his pants on tighter, adjusting his zip with you following behind him, red in the face.  

Kimi breathed with a drop of sweat worked up on his brow. "Hey, Oscar," he greeted, tugging at his shirt without a inch of shame in the world. He looked past him, spotting the emptiness in the jet. "Are Lando and George still waiting? I'll go them, yeah? Takeoff's soon." 

Oscar's lips curled in disgust as Kimi walked past him, shoulder bustling into his before Kimi's hand, still covered in the musk of sex, patted him. His brown eyes flickered to yours, now seated with the imprints of Kimi all over you. Purple on your neck, hands on your bare thigh, poorly hidden beneath your skirt. You were tainted with Kimi. He swallowed, meeting your flustered gaze. 

You gave him a timid wave. "Hi, Oscar." 

Oscar's breath caught. He was sure that was the first time he had heard his name fall from your lips. He enjoyed the way it rolled of your tongue. It sounded much better than Kimi's. He gave you a hesitant nod of acnknowledgement. He couldn't peel his eyes away from the shame beneath your kind expression. He could feel the judgement pouring from the staff in the cabin. Remember the awkward look on Lando and George's faces. And it was all because of Kimi.  

Oscar hated Kimi. He hated that Kimi had everything he ever wanted. An easy fight for a title. The potential to win more races than he ever had in his rookie years. And you. He had you.  

Oscar was going to beat Kimi. One way or another, he was going to beat the stupid smug smirk off that Italian face. He would take everything that he had away from him. Even if that something was you.  

It was a brief glimpse Oscar had gotten from you. But that was all he needed to stop in his tracks. The sight of you in tears, cheeks flushed, and hidden in behind some corner of the Mercedes' suite. No. That just wouldn't do.  

You sniffled, tip of your nose red as Oscar placed down a cup of freshly steamed hot chocolate and sat across you. With a tight, thankful smile, you held the burning cup between your fingers.

"A-Are you sure its okay for me to be here?" You asked, eyeing the unfamiliar shades of papaya around you.  

Oscar watched you quietly, nodding unconsciously. He blinked as your eyes drifted to his. The tips of ears reddened as he had been caught. He cleared his throat, nodding more definitely. "Of course, it is. I couldn't possibly have just left you like that." 

You swallowed tightly, cheeks pouring with heat once again as you thought about how Oscar had found you just sobbing away. The concern in his eyes had been surprising. You had never seen anything like it before. A part of you wished you had. In a different pair of brown eyes.  

Oscar pursed his lips at the silence brewing in the air. He sucked in a sharp breath, leaning forward. "I know it's not my place but... is it Kimi?" 

You looked down at the mention of your boyfriend before smiling much to Oscar's surprise. "It was my fault really. I made a mistake. I just thought..." 

He raised a brow. "You thought?" 

You chuckled softly, blinking through your sore eyes. "It sounds crazy now that I think about it. I thought he was cheating," you laughed a little deeper, sighing as you shook your head in disbelief. "There was the girl and— well. He was right. I was overreacting. I just really thought..." 

The ache in Oscar's chest was unwelcome as your voice grew small and strained. He blinked at your sudden smile yet again. "I was stupid, wasn't I?" You sighed, taking a sip of your hot chocolate.  

"No, you weren't." 

Your eyes flew to Oscar, wide. Your heart thudded in your chest, fear growing like diseased vines. What did he mean by that? 

"It's not stupid to ask questions. That's the least you deserve. It's your right," Oscar murmured gently, fingers curling to move the loose tresses in front of your face but stuck at his side.  

You pulled your brows together. That's not what Kimi told you. He always said questions weren't important. Useless, really. That only stupid people ask and answer. That's why he acted the way he did in interviews—disruptive and indifferent. But what you were hearing now...  

You tilted your head, curiosity swarming through your brain. "Can I ask you questions then?" 

A gentle smile sprawled onto Oscar's face as he leaned back in his seat. "You can ask me anything you want, sweetheart." 

He watched you hum almost silently. Like you were thinking of all the new options you could explore. And for a split second, he saw it. That sliver of excitement swirling in your eyes. The expanse of your pupils. And it made his breath catch.  

"Do you believe in aliens?" 

Amusement coursed through his veins. There was something so mundane about the question. Out of all the things you could have asked... But he pushed down the quirk of his lips. "In a world of unexplained things, I think there's room for aliens." 

Your brows pulled again, doe-eyes looking at him for a second. Maybe a second too long. Long enough for Oscar's heart to test new unhealthy rthyhms. "That's the most media trained answer you could've given. Nice job." 

Oscar blinked at your response, brown eyes watching you stand as you looked at the digital clock that counted sixty minutes to the start of the first free practice. Sixty minutes that required you to be near Kimi. He breathed slowly upon your small smile beaming. 

"Thank you for... well, just thank you," you mumbled, scratching the back of your neck sheepishly. You turned on your heel before pausing, head tilting back to the brown eyes still on you. "Question. Do my eyes look puffy?" 

Oscar could've remained seated and told you from where he sat. But he stood, taking those few closer steps near you. The world seemed to slow as he leaned in, inspecting your face from a careful distance. Or the lack of. It was silent for a brief moment. "No," he decided. 

You swallowed, releasing the breath you had unintentionally been holding. You smiled lightly. "Good. Kimi doesn't like it when they are," you chuckled. "Okay. Bye, Oscar." 

Oscar pressed his lips together, biting down the distaste lingering on his tongue as he bidded you goodbye. His turmoil seemed to linger even when you were gone. Every time he thought he couldn't hate Kimi anymore, you gave him one more reason to do so.  

The crowd roared as usual. A fundamental noise that your ears had become used to as you stood beneath the podium and metres away from the finishing cars. It was Silverstone. Classical and traditional. Every driver's dream race to win. And Kimi had done it.  

You stood between the neverending Mercedes' team, dolled in Kimi's jacket waiting for for him as he did his final few victory laps around the circuit, basking in the cheers and exclaims pouring from the stadium. Yet, he wasn't the first driver you saw. It was Oscar, cladded in papaya, and the claimer of P2. You watched him down the line, greeting his team. And for a moment, you expected him to sweep right past you.  

But someone at Mercedes knew him a little better, pulling him aside with a handshake. And then those brown eyes flickered to you and over the teal and black clinging to your shoulder with an emotion unfamiliar to you. But a smile graced his face nevertheless. Boyish as usual, you noticed. 

You returned the gesture. "Congrats on second," you said loudly, hands curling over the barricade.  

"Thank you," Oscar breathed, hand dishevelling his sweat-ridden brown locks, lines of his balaclava etched into his slightly reddened face. “If only I had one more lap," he sighed tiredly, reminiscing the hundredths between his and Kimi's finishing times.  

You pressed your lips together, smile hanging awkwardly. "Next time. I'm sure of it," you nodded astutely, brows pulled with firm belief.  

A chuckle fell from his lips. Cute. His head tipped in agreement. "Yeah. Next time,"  he mumbled. He took a quick breath in. "I was wond—" 

Oscar's words were quelled as the supporting shouts grew louder with Kimi's pull into parc fermé. You both silently watched him remove his steering wheel, topping the his car with his fists in the air triumphantly. His small jump off was smooth after every recent win. You felt his head glide towards you while he inched closer to the weighing scale. Nothing decipherable about those eyes behind the helmet. 

Kimi didn't waste a second. Helmet and balacava off. Sponsor watch on. Marching towards the crowd of teal and black. Marching towards you. Aware of every lens following his every move. His stagnant gaze on you purposeful. Gait with a force so casual yet demanding.  

Forceful enough for Oscar to take a step back as he watched Kimi's hand, the very one with the sponsor watch, fall to your face and bring his lips to yours. The grandstands and pools of fans around cheer as expected. The cameras zoom in hungrily, too blinded to see the quirk of Kimi's lips. Instead disguised as the loving boyfriend depicted across fanpages and headlines.  

But Oscar could see it. He stood behind Kimi, jaw locked, teeth clenching so tightly the pain swells in his gums. He hadn't realised it until Sophie, his press officer, put her hand on his arm to attend the trackside interview, grounding him back to reality. He swallowed tightly, taking a slow breath in and out before turning on his heel, fingers curled tightly at his side.  

With every step closer to the cameras and the waiting interviewer, Oscar couldn't shake the image of you two out of his head. This was the very same guy who had sent you crying just a few weeks ago, leaving Oscar to pick up the pieces. Who had the sheer audacity to make you feel like shit just for doubting him.  

What a fucking asshole.  

Monaco was not home for Oscar. It would never be. Nowhere near as comfortable and easy as Australia was. He preferred the scorching heats and casualness of the people around him. Not the sports cars or luxury yachts collecting dust on the Monégasque waters. This was well and truly just a perk of his job. Nothing more, nothing less.  

But just when Oscar couldn't find anything happy about it, a walk outside to get his groceries left him finding you nearby, eyes glued to the clothing store nearby.  

You blinked at the call of your name, tearing your eyes away to find a familiar mop of brown hair. The smile on your face was instant. You waved in a way that made his cheeks tighten. "What are you doing here?" 

Oscar breathed in, looking around the streets he had become used to, hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts. "Uh, I was going to get some groceries. How about you? Not in Italy. Well, obviously," he chuckled awkwardly. 

Christ... was he always such a loser? 

You grinned, nodding in agreement. "Kimi finally moved in so I came to help. Now... I'm shopping," you said, lifting your arm with the few shopping bags you had collected so far.  

He suppressed his frown at the mention of Kimi's name. "So I guess I'll be seeing you around more often?" He queried, brows raised with hope.  

"Yeah. I mean maybe. This place is a lot," you laughed softly, eyes tracing over the endless cars, stores, and yachts. This was definitely not Bologna or even Milan. Monaco was a in a league of its own.  

Oscar nodded. "It's overwhelming at first," he agreed, swallowing tightly as a new thought popped into his mind. "I mean, if you don't mind, I could be your guide when you're here. You can give me your number. Call me when you're around." 

You mulled over his offer, surprise light but evident on your face. You never really gave your number to anyone. Especially not any of the drivers—Kimi's rule. But Oscar was just being nice. It would probably be good too. That way you didn't have to bother Kimi.  

"Sure," you said, hand reaching out to grab your phone. "Give yourself a miss call." 

Oscar's eyes lit up, faint smile on his face as he punched in his number into your phone, letting the call linger briefly. Satisfied, he saved his name into your phone. Oscar :) 

"Perfect," you breathed, eyes crinkling with a thankful glint as you pocketed your phone. "I'll let you get back to it then. I still have a few more places I wanna see." 

Oscar tried not to let his disappointment show. You just got here. "If you wanted some company... I'm happy to join," he shrugged, hoping that was as casual as it was in his head. 

Your eyes widened slightly. "Really?" 

"Yeah, sure. I know a few places too," he nodded, unable to understand your shock. As if Kimi never joined you—oh who was he kidding? Of course that asshole didn't join you. And if he did, it would be for him.  

You grinned. "Lead the way." 

You pursed your lips, eyeing the skirt you hovered over yourself as you stood in front of the store's long mirror. It was a sparkly little thing. Silver. Small. Sequined. Your eyes flickered to Oscar's reflection, finding him standing nearby some rack (as if he hadn't been quietly watching you). “Oscar, can I ask you a question?" 

Oscar raised a brow, swiftly moving away from the rack he had been pretending to rummage through. "You know you don't have to ask that every time, right? You can just ask," he grinned, inching closer to you.  

"Oh," you pursed your lips, blinking blankly as the heat in your cheeks grew. "Right. Sorry," you smiled lightly, looking back at yourself in the mirror. "What do you think of this?" You asked, gesturing to the sparkly skirt dangling over the hanger.  

He swallowed. It was pretty thing really. Made him imagine things he didn't want to imagine. But as he had watched you, he couldn't help notice the light in your eyes missing. Or the frown of your lips. He shrugged. "You don't seem to like it very much." 

You fell silent for a moment, eyes slightly wide while you blinked. How Oscar knew that... you had no idea. You sucked in a sharp breath, staring at the skirt in the mirror with a small pout. "Kimi likes these things." 

There it was. The perpetrator behind everything miserable and unbalanced in your life. Of course, Kimi liked these things like this. Short and tight. It was a way to claim you in all those parties and night clubs. One hand always on your exposed leg or on the curve of your ass as he practically screamed, "Look at me."  

Oscar bit his lip, pushing away the rousing annoyance in his chest. "What do you like?" 

The question was simple. Yet it seemed to leave you stumped. Doe eyes a bit dazed. Lips parted. Like you had never really given that much of a thought. And that only worsened the ache in his chest.  

You tilted your head, directing your gaze behind Oscar. "I think that's pretty," you murmured, eyeing the semi-long white sundress nearby.  

Oscar turned his head. With no sly comment or look of distaste you usually recieved, he stepped towards it, grabbing the hanger with ease before bringing it back to you. "Then wear it." 

You pursed your lips, unsurely flickering over the dress. "But—" 

"Just try it. You won't know if you don't try," Oscar said, firm yet gentle as he took your previous shopping bags slung on your arm and moved them to his. He pushed forward the dress again. "Go on." 

He watched you swallow awkwardly, gingerly picking the dress out of his hand before drifting towards the fitting rooms. He followed after you, stopping when you suddenly turned back to face him.  

"Will you wait for me?" 

Oscar blinked. He hated how foreign the idea sounded to you. That you actually had to question it because your piece of shit boyfriend couldn't spare one second that wasn't for him.  

He smiled warmly, not missing a beat to respond. "I'll be right here. Don't worry." 

You nodded thankfully as he took a few steps back, taking a seat while he waited. And with every second the passed, Oscar couldn't help but think of it. The few times Kimi would come with you. Probably when the fans were out or along with the paps. How he'd probably walk around, not paying attention to you. Picking out clothes that he liked. Standing there, convincing you that you liked it as much as he did.  

The clothes were just one example. Oscar was almost a hundred percent sure it was Kimi who had gotten you to publicise your socials to get more coverage. Every second post being a photo of you together where you looked happy and Kimi looked like presumptous asshole he was.  

Had Oscar spent an unhealthy amount of time looking at your account? Yes. Maybe. But he couldn't help it. It was almost intuitional. The more he found to despise about Kimi, the more he seemed to sink deeper into the world that was you.  

"Oscar?" 

Oscar blinked, head lifting up as though he had been called by a siren. He found you peeking out of the curtain with a fretful smile. He raised his brows curiously. "Yeah?" 

"Do you think you can help me with the strings? Or find someone who can? I can't really do them by myself," you chuckled awkwardly, cheeks slightly flushing. 

He was standing on his feet when you called his name. Walking as you asked. Without as much of a fight or resistance you usually experienced, he had said yes.  

You breathed in, feeling the narrow confinements of the fitting room become even smaller as Oscar entered. You pursed your lips, eyes darting between anything and Oscar in the mirror. "Just... those ones," you murmured, hovering over the two long strings sitting at your lower back.  

Oscar held his breath in his lungs, fingers stretching and curling around the two attached pieces. He told himself he shouldn't look up as he looped each string. Because if he did, he was scared to see what he'd find. But he did.  

He wasn't sure what fucked up his brain chemistry more. The heat radiating between your bodies from something a simple as a little knot. Or the brush his fingers over the fabric of your dress. Or perhaps the bob of your throat as you caught his eye. Like he made you nervous. And that thought alone made him warm all over.  

He fastened the last knot, watching your breath hitch. "There," he said, voice gruff and strained while he committed the sinful cling of the fabric to your body to his memory.  

He kept quiet, observing your eyes drift over yourself in the mirror. He saw it. That missing light. The small look of approval in the quirk of your lips. "Buy it," he simply said. "If you don't, I will." 

Your lips parted with nothing quite to say as Oscar excused himself from the room, finally taking a breath of fresh air. His lungs burned as if he had denied the right to breathe with you, happy to let you suffocate him. 

"Jesus Christ," Oscar muttered to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose.  

He was so fucked.  

You swallowed tightly as Kimi threw his phone in front of you, left open with a picture of you and Oscar talking outside the store yesterday. He stood in front of you, arms folded with an incredulous smile on his face. "I called you here to help me," he said chuckled, shaking his head. "I mean... I can't believe you thought I was cheating. How hypocritical can you get?" 

You blinked, scatter of red creeping up your neck and cheeks instantly. "I... we were just talking, Kimi. I bumped into him on accident." 

The scoff from his lips made your eyes sting. Not an ounce of trust rested in him as much as it did in you.  

"Accident?" He questioned, raising his brows with amusement. "Nothing accidental about that prick. Don't think I haven't noticed him being around you more often. I mean come on, ___. Are you his girlfriend or mine?" 

You frowned. "Of course, I'm your girlfriend, Kimi," you instantly said, not missing a beat to respond. "Why would you even ask that?" 

Kimi tilted his head. "You're asking me that? Then don't do things that make me question you, belle," he grunted, jaw tight. He sucked in a breath when he spotted the thin shine over your eyes. He almost rolled his own. Of course. You couldn't go a conversation without crying.  

"Why are you being so mean?" You murmured, eyes brimming with tears, tip of your nose beginning to flush.  

After a moment a sigh fell from Kimi's lips. He stepped forward, hands holding you at either side of your arms. He leaned forward, meeting your gaze, brown eyes suddenly gentle. "I don't want to be. You just make it difficult, belle. You know I love you so much, yeah? Don't cry. I hate seeing you cry." 

You blinked, feeling Kimi's lips gided over your eyelids briefly. For a moment you felt like your soul had separated from your body. Like you were watching yourself from another plane. You breathed in, sniffling quietly to yourself as he pulled away, thumb grazing your cheek.  

"You understand, hmm?" He hummed, tucking your hair behind your ear. 

You smiled tightly, giving him a nod. "I understand, Kimi. I won't do it again," you promised, pressing a small kiss to his cheek. "Ti amo." 

Oscar hated clubs. There was nothing more uncomfortable for him as an introvert. The loud music, flashing lights, sweaty bodies, and an unhealthy amount of alcohol. All features of a nightmare he's had time and time again.  

But he was here. Under the strobe lights, music vibrating throught the floor he stood on while his eyes searched through the dancing crowd. He was here because you were here. A small detail you had slipped into your texts with him recently. A night out with the drivers and their partners.  

Lando spotted him first, surprise evident on his face as he came closer. He eyed the blue jeans and black polo shirt his teammate wore and chuckled. "Well this is out of the norm. I wonder why." 

Lando wasn't as daft as some made him out to be. Of course, things were a lot easier when his usually composed and calm teammate was riled up by the simple mention of you. Oscar had made the mistake many other drivers had once made. Everyone had seen you once Kimi moved up racing categories. No one was going to deny it. You were a gorgeous girl with a pure heart. But you were young. And that was always risky territory. That fact you were Kimi's... it rubbed everyone the wrong way. Where as everyone saw you for what you were, Kimi saw you as the shiny trophy to put his on his arm.  

But no one had tried to go against him. The effort against someone so cocky and arrgoant was tumultuous. Formula One was already bad enough as it was. The last thing any driver wanted was an extra target on his back when they raced.  

But it seemed Oscar had willingly taken it up. And it ws going well. By sheer luck or pure talent, he had finally thwarted the neverending Mercedes domination and Kimi's winning reign. With a few race wins up his sleeve, Oscar loomed over the championship leader with a confidence Kimi would almost find familiar.  

"Shut up," Oscar rolled his eyes at Lando, returning his gaze back to the crowd. There was no question as to who he was searching for. And he found you where he had expected. On Kimi's lap. His chin nestled into your shoulder, hand over your thigh while he talked to Ollie like you weren't there. And there you were again, dressed in the clothes that your fingers threatened to tug down.  

Oscar watched silently as your lips dipped towards Kimi's ear, whispering something that made him nod and made him loosen his grip on you. His own feet moved across the club before he knew it. But he wasn't so obvious, blending with the crowd as you seemed to near the bathroom. At least from Kimi's angle. But from his, he could spot the right turn towards the stairs immediately.  

The strobe lights turned red as Oscar walked up the stairs. The atmosphere up there, though still loud, seemed different. Slower and slurred. Crowded yet less chaotic. And in the mix of it all he found you. Sitting in an empty booth, head in your hands, resting on the table.  

"You okay?" 

You lifted your head at the voice, ears perked instinctively. You breathed a little more calmly when you realised who it was. "Oscar," you greeted with a small smile though you didn't hide your surprise. You watched him slide into the booth, sitting across you. "What are you doing here? This doesn't really seem like your scene." 

Oscar rested his arms on the table. "Doesn't seem like yours either," he simply retorted. He grinned at your pursed lips and briefly stoic face. Like he had caught you in a lie.  

You sucked in a sharp breath, leaning back into the booth. "It's not," you admitted with a sheepish nod. The sheer amount of eyes and people made you want to throw up. "But—" 

"But Kimi likes it... right?" Oscar bitterly finished, brows raised.  

You smiled lightly, nodding once again as your eyes drifted across the dancing crowd, swaying a bit more softer to the electric beat. "I came up here to breathe a little," you mumbled. "It's better than down there. He would've found me outside." 

It was silent for a moment. Just Oscar watching quietly and you basking in something that didn't have Kimi's name scrawled all over it.  

"Can I ask you a question?" 

You blinked, peeling your gaze away from the scene and back to Oscar. You furrowed your brows. That was usually your line. But hearing it come from his mouth was humouring. You smiled lightly, gesturing for him to continue.  

"Do you like to dance?" Oscar asked. It was a bold ask. One that made him regret it almost instantly. Lodge his breath in his throat as he waited. 

You folded your arms, pondering over his question. "At home. Usually by myself. Kimi doesn't really enjoy it anymore," you sighed sadly, corners of your mouth frowning. You had tried asking once or twice. But the outcome was always the same. He was too busy or too weirded out. 

Your eyes fell to the outsretched hand in front of you and then to the standing Oscar. You raised a brow.  

"Let's dance then," he breathed.  

You swallowed tightly, thinking back to the night just weeks ago where you and Kimi had argued about Oscar. About the promise you had made. You rubbed your lips together, looking at him fretfully as your stomach churned. "I don't know if that's a good idea." 

Oscar tilted his head at you. "Stop thinking about Kimi and think for yourself. If you want to dance, then dance." 

You should've kept your hand to yourself. You should've gone back downstairs. Whether it was those brown eyes staring back at you or the determination in Oscar's voice, you couldn't decide. But you gave him your hand and let him guide you to the floor.  

It was a tight fit with the occassional bump of a shoulder or body nearby. Your eyes locked under the flashing red lights as you stood in front of each other. The music you could feel through your heels. For a moment, you do nothing. Just stare at each other.  

"Do you even know how to dance?" You asked with a small but teasing smile, eyeing his frigid posture. He was like a frozen block of ice. Unable to move. Cautious of the surrounding movements. The awkward tipped grin on his face told you everything. And it made you laugh. Earnestly and genuinely.  

Oscar bit the inside of his cheek, preventing him from smiling too hard when he felt the brush of your head fall against your chest. He watched as you lifted yourself up, amusement littered all over your face. Your hair dishevelled, tresses flying in different directions. Eyes sparkling under the lights. Smile beaming at him. And he could've sworn his heart stopped. 

"They say to just feel the music. Move your body," you advised, brows scrunched like you were trying to remember. 

He raised a brow. "They?" He repeated with a grin. "Who's 'they?'"  

You pursed your lips, shrugging. "Club people. You learn a thing or two when you just sit there." 

Oscar snorted. There was something unexplainably enjoyable when you became a little more loose-lipped without Kimi nearby. He cleared his throat. "So... you just move your body? That what you said?" 

You nodded, beginning to move your hands. "I think if you imagine yourself like a fish it works better," you wiggled your brows, trailing your hands across your body to the beat thundering around you.  

For a brief second, Oscar laughed. But the picture of a fish dancing died in his head quicker as the rhythm filtered through his ears and his eyes fell to you. The world instantly lingered in his head. Siren. That's what you reminded him of. Every twist and turn of your body making the movement of your hair seem like some art.  

He wasn't sure when he himself had begun moving. The bob of his chin. The shuffle of his feet. But he couldn't call it dancing. It was more the appreciation of you in front of him. Admiring how lost you were for just a moment in time.  

He couldn't believe it.  

How could Kimi deny this? Deny you?  

To not dance with you was a sin in itself. The mere idea of missing this bright smile of yours... his fear grew stronger.  

The gap between you and Oscar had substantially gotten smaller. Like it was the natural order of things. Heat radiated from every angle possible, the air thick with sweat and something you couldn't quite pinpoint.  

You hadn't realised how close you were till you felt the glide of Oscar's hand against the curve of your waist. Your gasp was soft and barely audible. But you could feel the small electric sparks running down your body. You flitted your eyes to Oscar hesitantly and it almost made you take a step back.  

He was looking at you already.  

Darkened brown eyes strained with red underneath the lights. His large hand pulled you a little closer, letting you see the traces of his moles and freckles. Feel the heat of his skin against yours. The press of his fingers. The scatter of his breath. Any closer it would be his pacing heartbeat.  

Oscar looked... good.  

More than good. Hot. He looked hot.  

You breathed in as he turned your body, leaving your back pressed against his chest. His arm curled around your waist. You pulled your lip between your teeth when you felt his lower half press into you. Not forceful or insistent. Just there. Teasing. And for some godforsaken reason, you couldn't bring yourself to pull away.  

You swallowed hard, feeling his breath skim past your ear. His lips rested close by.  

"The dress... Kimi's choice?" 

Your thighs pressed together at his tight voice. As though he was struggling. You didn't understand the extent of the heat unfurling in your stomach. You had never felt this way. Not even with Kimi.  

You cleared your throat, nodding against him. "Hate it?" You asked, breath shaky when you felt the tip of his nose graze the column your neck. You could've sworn your knees melted when you felt his smile lines ghost your cheek, lips brushing against the curve of your ear.  

Your eyes widened slightly as you faced him once again. His hand never left you, snug and comfortably around your waist. Your body burned as he rested his head against yours, brown eyes holding your gaze so carefully. So heavily.  

"I was taught that if I don't have anything respectful to say, I shouldn't say it at all," Oscar breathed tightly, jaw half clenched. 

It was no ordinary beat your heart followed. With large gaps and ample opportunity to miss as you tried to decipher what he was saying. But before you could, it was Oscar who stepped away.  

You struggled to catch your breath, staring back at him with your doe-eyes and your stomach churning.  

Oscar blinked, brown eyes raking over you for one last time that night. Because if he stayed here a second longer, he'd do something he couldn't. He smiled at you, tight yet warm. "You're a good dance teacher, ___." 

You hadn't talked to Oscar since the club. You couldn't quite bring yourself to. Neither did Kimi really let you, keeping you by his side at all times.  

You were confused. You still didn't have a full grasp on what had happened. One moment you were dancing and then the other you were... God, you had no idea. You could just feel him. Hear him. See him. For a moment, everything was just Oscar.  

But things had dampened down since then. You ocassionally saw Oscar here and there. You'd look. But you never quite did much more than that. Especially as Kimi fought with Oscar on track. Both contenders for a championship. Both their first. It was like a cat and mouse game. If Kimi won once, it was Oscar's turn the next.  

And today, Kimi had taken back that victory chainmail, standing on the podium with a smirk so wide, you almost hadn't recognised him. Nor the extra clingy behaviour as he came off of it, kissing you, hand on your waist, and showering you with sweet little comments.  

But you supposed this was why.  

To have you all pressed up in the men's bathroom with rushed urgency after his media duties and debriefing. Shorts and boxers slung low around his legs. You propped up against the sink, skirt bunched up. His head tucked into your shoulder, groans and grunts muffled. Hips moving into you with desperation and pleasure.  

It seemed Kimi had it all planned out.  

Except for one little thing.  

The door cracked open.  

You weren't sure what it was. Whether he had genuinely forgotten or he thought no one was actually going to walk by. And well, if they did, it was only his ass that was going to be seen. 

But you couldn't have counted for the possibility of Oscar passing by and stopping, frozen in his tracks.  

Your heart almost stopped right there and then. Your eyes stuck with the brown orbs staring right back at you. Your lips parted. Perhaps with the intention to stop Kimi. But you didn't. You didn't understand why you didn't. 

You hadn't been wet for the past ten minutes but now the slick was beginning to pile up. The squelch of Kimi's cock driving into you, lewd and obscene.  

"Oh fuck," Kimi swore into your skin. "You're getting so wet for me, belle," he panted, grunting as his teeth nibbled into your shoulder. "So fucking wet." 

You could see the bob of Oscar's throat. Like a deer in headlights. He didn't move either. Instead the press of his teeth against his lip made you moan against Kimi's ear. The first sound you had made since you had gotten in here.  

You focused on the betraying pull of Oscar's brows at the sweet sounds pouring from your mouth. How his fingers curled so tightly against his side. You wondered what he could see. how much of you he could see. The thought only made you clench tighter around Kimi's cock.  

"Cazzo," Kimi hissed, hands digging into your hips. "Doesn't that feel so good, baby? Yeah? I'm making you feel so good," he groaned, pushing deeper into you. The sound of your skin against one another now escaped the bathroom with ease.  

You choked on the air, hand falling to Kimi's brown curls while you eyed the flush of Oscar's skin. How dark his eyes were. How they fell to where you and Kimi met, enchanted. And for a moment, your breath matched his. Every heave of your chest... it was like he was guiding you just metres away.  

You could barely comprehend the heat in your core. All you knew was it was messy. Juices running down your thighs. So wet a ring of white formed around Kimi's cock as he pushed in and out of you. The soft sounds tumbling from your throat uncontrollably as you watched Oscar's tongue swipe his bottom lip.  

Oscar should have moved. Like he had done all the other times he had heard the both of you. But he could see it in your eyes. With every praise Kimi gave himself or you... the only thing turning you on right now was him.  

His shorts, unexplainably tight around his more than obvious large bulge, only worsened as he watched your hand move between your and Kimi's bodies. Your eyes never moved off of him. His own lips quirking when your fingers pressed against your desperately sore bundle of nerves.  

Because Kimi couldn't get you off.  

Oscar could have laughed if it wasn't for the situation he was in. Or for the fact he could see this new pleasure so clearly on your face. Your brows furrowed tightly, teeth sinking into your lip, cheeks red, eyes dazed... he could tell. You were close.  

Kimi seemed to be too. Speeding his hips up against yours. Still in his own little fantasy where he was the one making you feel so good. He came quick, stuttering against you with his lust-driven grunts. He was decent though, still moving for you.  

Oscar had to give it to him. If Kimi hadn't continued and left you there to fend for yourself, it would've been him taking out his own cock and making sure you saw stars.  

It was wrong. God, it was so wrong. You knew it. Oscar knew it. But you had never felt like this. So... good. Still the mix of shame and pleasure coursed through you simultaneously, hand gripping Kimi's brown curls while your fingers pressed and rubbed your clit breathlessly. This was it.  

"That's it. Cum for me, belle." 

But it wasn't it Kimi you were listening to. At least not directly.  

Your hazed eyes capturing the small, encouraging nods of Oscar's head. His uneven silent breaths. And you can see his lips mouth the words. 

Cum.  

Cum.  

Cum for me.  

Oscar wanted to fall to his knees as he watched the peak of ecstasy hit you. You were seeing white. He could almost fucking feel it with how tight your body locked up, your lips parted in pure awe. But especially as you ensured your eyes were on him for every goddamn second.  

Holy fuck.  

Oscar had to step away. Any moment now it would be Kimi turning around. And this... whatever it was, would be over.  

The walk to his driver's room was faster than anything he had ever done. He did his bare duties; strained smiles and nods. A brush past the few team members packing up. His door was locked in an instant, back pressed against the wall, and his hand under his waistband.  

It was a wonder Oscar hadn't cum right there and then as he looked down at his cock, hung with urgency. His red tip leaked profusely, throbbing with a need he had never succumbed to before.  

He had been careful in the past few months. Not to get wrapped up with your name on his lips and his hand on his cock. Because that journey would never go down well for him. But that night in the club... his hand on your waist and your ass against him... it had ruined him. He had gone home, jerking off like it was the first time he had ever felt someone this close to him.  

But this... this was different. Oscar's brain was rushing. No. Overflowing with what he had just seen. And he couldn't get it out of his head. The way your breath caught when he had walked by. The honey-like sounds falling from your lips. The obscenely wet sounds coming from your cunt. And the most damning fact of all—you had kept going after you had seen him.  

Oscar bit down into wrist, face contorted with pleasure, moans muffled as he fisted himself. His eyes and hips rolled with as much desperation as you had just shown. It was almost mimickable how wet he sounded, shaft and tip just doused in his neverending pre-cum.  

He couldn't decide what set him off. The orgasmic bliss on your face or the knowing that it was him. Him that made you cum. Maybe not physically. But it was not Kimi and his idiocy. Your fingers and his presence... that was what had done it.  

Oscar's body convulsed, hips stuttering as the pleasure climbed over him rapidly. His teeth clamped harder into his skin, spurts of hot cum coming out in long strings. Leaving his hands and shorts stained with the mess you had created.  

Removing his wrist from his mouth, he breathed silently and hard, staring at the idle components of his driver's room.  

Jesus. He might have been fucked before. But there was no going back after today.  

You couldn't count how many times you had been like this recently. And by this, you meant curled up somewhere and in tears.  

You had been a mess since Kimi's race. What you had done... that was so wrong on so many levels. There was no beating around the bush. You had cheated. One way or another. 

And it was humiliating. Because that was probably the best you had ever felt in your life. But not because of your actual boyfriend, Kimi. But because of Oscar.  

You had skipped as much races as you could without Kimi getting suspicious. You couldn't look at him without feeling ashamed. Nor could you look at Oscar. He had sent you texts. Too many of them. So you had blocked him and deleted his number.  

But you couldn't get out of this one. You could see the questions brewing in Kimi's head when he had asked you if you were coming. And you had run out of excuses.  

You thought it would be fine. That you could get through this weekend without any tears or any fights. But much to your disappointment, you were wrong.  

Kimi's fixation with winning had turned into agitation now that Oscar was taking even bigger chunks of points out of his lead. He wasn't happy with the car's performance during practice. He had given the team hell after it. And when that wasn't enough, you were the next available target.  

You had lost count of the type of things he had said to you in front of the team. How you weren't supportive enough. That you never stuck through with him like he did with you. How it was your fault that his car, which you had no connection to whatsoever, was bad. That you had somehow bewitched Oscar into being good.  

The message was clear: it was your fault.  

Humiliation didn't even cover it. Mortified was more like it. The awkward gazes of the team. The tears ramping up in your eyes. Your flushed cheeks. You hated it. And you hated it even more because it was your fault.  

So you sat on the dry concrete in Belgium, between the awkward space of two team suites, head tucked into your knees as wave after wave of anger and embarrassment hit you. Your tears had partially died down, caught on your trousers and shirt.  

Your jaw clenched as you glared at the concrete, chewing your lip anxiously. Why did you have to go screw this all up? You should have listened to Kimi. You should have never accepted that dance because then you would've never found Oscar like this. So good. So ugh... you wanted to scream at yourself.  

"Hey, hey," a familiar voice echoed into the air, making the hairs on your body stand up. “What’s happened?" 

You lifted your head slowly, reddened eyes meeting the concerned brown pair staring right back at you. It was Oscar, of course. Bent down, knees embedded onto the concrete and hands on the sides of your own knees. Your chest ached at the sight of him and yet the anger seemed to roar in your head when you thought about what you had done. You sighed almost annoyed, tilting your head back against the wall.  

"Nothing. Just forget about it," you wiped your tear-stained cheeks with the back of your hand.  

Oscar's brows mended together at your reaction. As if it was a crack in the perfect glass world you had been living in. "___, you know you don't have to be embarrassed around me—" 

"This is embarrassing," you gritted out, hurt eyes drifting to him. "It's always embarrassing that you always finds me like this. Crying like some pathetic waste of space." 

"No. That's not true," Oscar murmured, head shaking as he tucked your hair behind your ears. "Kimi should be the one that's embarrassed. Making you cry like this," he said, jaw twitching. He could only imagine what he had said to you. Piece of shit.  

You chuckled dryly. "I'm a horrible girlfriend, Oscar. What I did that day... that's unforgiveable.,'" you whispered, eyes tearing up yet again. "I deserve this. It all makes sense now. The paddock was never boring. People don't talk to me because they know how bad I am." 

Oscar almost wanted to laugh in disbelief. How bad you were? All you had done was dance a little and feel the best you had ever felt in your life. All you had done was live a little and  here you were denouncing Kimi's actions like he had done no wrong.  

"Sweetheart, people don't talk to you because of you. They don't talk to you because of Kimi. No one wants to tell you but I will," he swallowed the lump in his throat, chest sore at the sight of your reddened eyes.  

You sniffled, confusion visible on your face. "What?" 

"That Kimi doesn't deserve you." 

Your brows furrowed, affronted in an instant. The memories seemed to hit you one after another. He was your first for everything. First kiss. First time. First boyfriend. First love. He was perfect, wasn't he? "That's not true. Kimi's—" 

"An asshole," Oscar cut in firmly. "Someone who loves you doesn't hurt you. Someone who loves you doesn't make fake promises. Or put limits on how you act. Who you can see." 

You shook your head. No. Your Kimi wasn't like that. "He's just protective—" 

Oscar's hands moved to grab your face, holding your gaze so fiercely, for a moment you forgot to breathe. "___, someone who loves you doesn't make you question yourself." 

You fell silent, not bothering to wipe the fresh tears spilling from your eyes. Your brows quivered and your stomach churning. Your heart echoed in your ears while your brain flashed between your altered memories.  

It was like watching some sort of stained glass shatter right in front of your eyes. Your perfect Kimi no longer perfect.  

"He wasn't like that at the start. I swear," you whispered, looking back at Oscar, lip trembling. 

Oscar sucked in a sharp breath at the crack in your voice. Fuck. He sighed quietly, arms wrapping around you and bringing you to his chest, lips pressed to the side of your head. "I know, sweetheart. I know." 

"Can you stop brainwashing my girlfriend?" 

Oscar looked away from his trainer, conversation coming to a screeching halt. His eyes travelled around the room, ensuring it was still cladded in papaya. He smiled at Kimi. "Are you even allowed to be in here?" He raised a brow, folding his arms, leaning back in his seat. 

Kimi tongued the inside of his cheek. He was sure he had never met anyone as obnoxious as Oscar Piastri. "Did you hear me? Stay away from my girlfriend. Or else," he glowered, jaw tight, turning on his foot.  

"Or else what?" Oscar goaded, making the Italian stop dead in his tracks and his trainer sigh. He stood up from his chair, eyeing the figure in front of him with disgust. "Kimi, piece of advice. You should probably try treat your girlfriend better." 

It was like something in Kimi had snapped. Turning around with such force, the air had bended as he stalked up to Oscar, his breath in his face. "Don't fucking tell me how to treat my own girl," he spat, chest heaving.  

Oscar's mouth quirked. "You treat her like shit and come here acting like you don't," he chuckled, shaking his head, brown eyes hard with annoyance. "You don't deserve her. You don't deserve anything you have." 

Kimi blinked, scrutinising the man in front of him before letting out a scoff. "I get what this is." 

Oscar raised his brows, bored and tired. "Do you now?" He asked dryly, not so easily entertained by Kimi's smirk.  

"You're jealous," Kimi deducted, smirk widening with every passing second as he thought back to the past year. His debut compared to Oscar's. "I'm so young and yet I have everything you were ever promised. The team. The car. The wins." 

Oscar, the master of composure, remained stoic. Not a budge on his face to give him the true inkling—that he was right. That this was how it had started. But that wasn't going to be how it ended. "If that's all you can think about after treating her the way you do... you are exactly who I think you are," he muttered with distaste heavy on his tongue. "She's not yours, Kimi. She's her own person." 

Kimi stood in front of him, unimpressed as his lips parted to retaliate. But Oscar leaned in, lowering his voice to a more inaudible frequency. "And even if she was yours, no honourable man would leave his girl to get off by herself," he murmured with a gentle smile, basking in the drop of Kimi's smirk.  

Oscar patted Kimi's shoulder with feigned condolences, heading towards the exit of the McLaren suite. Leaving Kimi to stand by himself, pale in the face and sick to his stomach.  

Kimi had crashed. it was horrible. Pieces of the car flying everywhere. The gasp of the crowd. The bang of his fist against the snapped halo. The replay was all you could think of as you finally made your way to the medical bay, eyes glossed with tears, stomach churning, and heart pacing erratically. You hadn't taken a breath until you opened the door, finding him sitting on the couch, icepack to his hand .  

You sucked in a shaky breath, feet rushing before you could even think your hands flew to his face, frantically examining his entire body for something that maybe the doctor or nurse had missed. "Oh Kimi," you choked, tears spilling. "A-Are you okay? D-Do you want me to call anyone?" 

A piece of your heart broke as Kimi slapped your hand away with his bandaged fist, icepack falling to the floor. He glared at you, disgust swarming in his eyes. "Don't do that. Don't pretend you care."  

You kept your hand close to your chest, brows furrowed. "Kimi... what are you talking about? Of course, I care. I—" 

"I crashed because of you." 

You froze at his words. "W-What?"  

He stood from the couch. He jammed his finger into your chest. "This is your fault," he gritted out, lip trembling with pure anger. " Oscar this. Oscar that. Oscar, Oscar, Oscar," he spat out.  

"Kimi—" 

"You might as well come out with it. Luring Oscar to mess with my championship. How could you do this to me? When I've been here for you since the very start?" Kimi exasperated, own eyes pricking with tears.  

You swallowed the bile creeping up your throat as the tears seeped into your cheeks. You looked at him, repulsed and with your brows mended. Your skin ached where his finger landed, invisible bruises already forming. "You're really questioning my loyalty? Once. Only once did I ever question you. After all those signs... the looks to those other girls. I ignored it because I thought you really loved me. And I questioned you once and you ridiculed me. And you really think I did something as elaborate as tricking Oscar?" 

"Who knows?" He heaved dryly. "You've changed, ___. Years ago, you would've stuck by me," Kimi hissed. 

You chuckled despite the tears falling one after another. "I have been. Every single goddamn day. You’re the one who's changed, Kimi! I don't see the guy who stayed up all night outside my house to wish me happy birthday. Or protected me from the photographers. No. Now... with you it’s... it’s clubs. And parties. Cameras following our every move. You degrade me in front of your co-workers. Disrespect me in front of millions. You show me off like I'm some trophy and put me to the side when you don't need me." 

"Right..." Kimi laughed bitterly, shaking his head with utter disbelief. "Oscar doesn't do that then?" 

Your face burned with anger, lip twitching. How dare he...  

"Well at least he doesn't make me cry!" You exclaimed with an exhausted sob, shoulders heavy and burdened. "That's all you ever do, Kimi. You make me cry, then you love me. You criticise me, then you love me. I do what you want and it's still never enough for you. I will never be enough." 

And suddenly, you were young kids all over again. Facing each other outside of school under the blues skies and warm winds of Bologna. Your smile so bright for him, he promised never to make it go away. Eyes so full of light, he never wanted to see a single tear.  

Kimi blinked, lips parting for a response but nothing ever came out. Just the croak of realisation as he stood in front of you, finally taking in your reddened eyes, tear stained cheeks, and flushed skin.   

It was like a slap to the face.  

That was his doing.  

He had made you cry. 

He had hurt you.  

What had he done? 

You wiped your cheeks hastily as he stepped forward, hand hesitantly reaching out. Your throat burned, raw and sore from yelling. "I'm done, Kimi. Don't call me. Or my parents. Don't come by my house," you sniffled, lip quivering with disgust. “I don't ever want to talk to you again." 

Oscar had recognised your downbeat face in a heartbeat as you sat in the McLaren motorhome, in his room, waiting with a cup of hot chocolate in front of you. A familiar sight. But something was different. He could tell.  

No longer could he see the awkward, nervous demeanour Kimi had elicited from you. Instead a frame of exhausted freedom in your sunken eyes. Tip of your nose red and cheeks flushed from crying.  

Oscar could tell this would be the last time he'd ever let you cry.  

He breathed in quietly, removing his cap as he took a seat next to you. For a brief moment, he didn't say anything. A minute of silence for what was gone. For all your efforts that had been disrespected in every manner. 

"We don't have to talk about it," Oscar mumbled, grabbing your hand, frowning at your cold skin. Warming your hand gently, he took in another breath. "Or do anything. As long as you're happy, I'm happy." 

You moved your eyes from the coffee table drearily to Oscar, your hand, and then back to him. "Can I ask you question?" 

Oscar swallowed, nodding with a perfect ease. "Of course," he said softly. 

"Would you ever make me cry?" 

Not one second wasted to think when he already knew the answer. "Never," he breathed, moving to tuck your dishevelled hair behind your ear. "There is no world or universe where I could even fathom it." 

You pursed your lips, searching his eyes, trying to understand the weight of his words. Waiting for a split second to see if you could find the lies you had ignored in Kimi. But you found none. Just his warm gaze and the feel of his hand on your cheek, resting. 

The corners of Oscar's lips teetered. "Was that a good media trained answer?" 

You couldn't help but laugh a little, chest just a bit lighter now. You nodded your head. "Nice job," you murmured teasingly, nudging him with your elbow.  

Oscar smiled, boyish and gentle as his thumb grazed your cheek back and forth before tracing over the small crinkles near your eyes, raised from your own smile. His chest ached slightly. Happiness looked far better on you.  

You watched Oscar's eyes dip, falling to your lips for a brief moment. A silent struggle he decided to shake away. You sucked in a quiet breath, gentle fingers raising to brush over his lips, making him freeze. Meeting those brown eyes, a new shade you had come to enjoy, you tilted your head up and leaned in, pressing your mouth to his briefly. 

Oscar's breath caught and his pulse jumped as you pulled away a smidge, shy smile faint on your face. Without a second thought, he brought you right back to him, lips pressed against yours with a barely contained urgency. His nose knocked against yours, head tilting while he parted your mouth with a simple ease.  

The air in your lungs seemed to burn, caught and stuck while your brain turned into mush. It had been a while since someone had kissed you like they had meant it. Not for any camera or audience. A moment just yours. Your breath to steal.  

You shifted against him, feeling his hand move to your waist in an attempt to bring you closer. The soft noise from your throat made the both of you shudder. The thud against the couch was gentle as you fell on top of him, never quite parting. as though the taste of each other was all consuming. 

Oscar begrudgingly pulled away, breath shaky as he rested his head against yours. He swallowed, trying to compose himself. A gentle laugh fell from his swollen lips, brown eyes flickering to you and your flushed cheeks. "I was supposed to take this slow," he sighed.  

Your body shook lightly with an amused laughter. "You have all the time in the world to try," you teased. "I'm giving you my heart, Piastri. Don't screw it up." 

Oscar softly blinked, smile slowly stretching onto his face. "I promise," he breathed, pressing a long kiss to the top of your cheek. 

Radio silence. That all Kimi had heard from you. He had ignored your warnings. Called and called. Text after text to try and rectify his wrongs. But you had quickly blocked his number. And it wasn't the only gruelling problem in his life.  

Kimi didn't know what was going on but he was losing. He was losing bad. Every race... it was like he was taking a thrashing. And each one from them coming from Oscar. From wins and podiums... he was stuck at the bottom of top ten towards the end of a season. His big point lead now heavily eaten into. His confidence on thin ice. 

And it was all Oscar's fault.  

It was driving Kimi crazy. Leaving him in tears. because nothing quelled his anger. No workout. No crash. Nothing. He was even beginning to hallucinate. Hoping to turn around in the paddock and see you nearby. Hearing echoes of your voice in the air. Anything to keep him sane.  

But you weren't here. Because he had fucked up. because Oscar Piastri had decided to get in the way.  

Here Kimi was. After all of it. Entering the paddock miserably for the third to last race of the season. One of the championship deciders. He hadn't gotten a wink of sleep on the plane. Long hours spent in silence and with his brain.  

He needed to head towards the Mercedes' suite for a morning brief. Pick up any instructions from the communiations team, maybe train a little before he went off to complete his media duties for the day.  

His smile was tight and dull for the nearby cameras, hand hanging onto the bag slung over his shoulder. He walked with no extra pep or ego in his step. No cocky cadence that he once exhibited. Only with a sliver of hope that he could win. Even by a single point. Because suddenly the season he had been dying to start was the same one he was dying to be over.  

Kimi's brows furrowed at the surprised looks of the photographers and people nearby. Their eyes travelling to the scene behind him, wide and cautious. He paused in his steps, body slowly turning to satiate his curiosity. But what he saw made his heart freeze and his blood run cold.  

He blinked once. Twice. And another two more times.  

But the sight never changed.  

Kimi wasn't hallucinating. It was you.  

For a second, Kimi's heart soared. A genuine smile threatening to spring onto his face. But as his eyes dropped down to your hand intertwined with another, he followed the arm to the familiar face of Oscar's and whatever happiness he had felt for a brief second had been smashed to smithereens.  

He watched silently. Forced to do so, if anything. Watched as Oscar did the opposite of everything he ever did. Guiding you through the hoard of photographers and fans, keeping you close by as you both meet with Lando nearby. Watched as Oscar noticed your untied shoe and bent down to tie them without a second thought. Coming back up to give you a gentle kiss on your cheek as you enthusiastically engaged with his teammate.  

Respectful and gentle with you. Fufilling all the promises Kimi had once made. 

You looked unexplainably happy. Talking to someone that wasn't him. Someone that was no longer afraid to reciprocate any conversation with you. 

For the first time in a while, Kimi could see the very same light in your eyes and your bright smile under these blue skies. None of which were for him. And it was like a stab to the heart.  

But nothing worse than the smooth swivel of Oscar’s head, brown eyes meeting his as he smiled at him. Not a grin. Or smirk. A smile. Innocent and kind on the outside was the gesture. But the lingering stare emphasised it all.  

It was official.  

His wins.  

His podiums.  

His reputation.  

His happiness.  

His first love.  

Oscar Piastri had stolen everything Kimi once had. 

These doors hadn't changed the last you had seen them. Nor the windows or cladding. Nothing new had been added nor had anything been removed. The annual flowers in the small garden patch nearby were finally beginning to blossom. The grass had been cut.  

No familiar face greeted you at first. At least not any human one. You smiled at the rapid barks of Nilo, paws tapping against the glass panes excitedly before he leaped down from the windowsill and rushed through the pet door installed a few summers back.  

A chuckle fell from your lips as you bent down, hand patting his soft head. "Hey, Nilo." 

A bark returned as a response while the front door clicked open and Pedri blinked at the sight of your face in front his very door, Fer and his parents catching glimpse of you from the living room. "___," he softly said. "What are you... what are you doing here?" 

You smiled tightly, peering up at him. "I think I need some help." 

"He kissed you in the middle of the sea?" Fer gaped, lounging on the couch with his eyes wide as you recounted the recent events. He blew some air into his cheeks, quick approving whistle falling from his lips. "Talk about romantic, huh?" 

Pedri turned his head to his brother, face blank. "Dude, how is that all you got from the story?" He grumbled, looking back at you and Nilo curled up together across him. He smiled quietly.  

Fer rolled his eyes. His brother was fun when he was jealous. He breathed in, trying to mend together the pieces you had given him. "So... Oscar spent a lot of time with you during the break. Mustered the courage to kiss you… I’m struggling to see the problem here. The guy clearly likes you." 

Pedri nodded begrudgingly while he leaned over, chin in hand as he spotted the flush on your cheeks from a mile away. This was not what he was expecting when you said you needed help. After ushering his parents to do something else once you caught up with them... he'd been lying if he wasn't feeling a little hopeful.  

You swallowed tightly, struggling to keep those flashbacks out of your head. "That's not true. There are many problems. He's my co-worker for one. And my best friend, so that's like double weird. And... And..." 

"And you can't believe he actually likes you," Pedri deducted after you struggled to come up with another reason. He folded his arms, leaning back into the couch. "Because you loved him first."    

You bit your lip as the silence poured in. He had hit the nail on the head. Looking down at Nilo, you sighed. "It's one thing to spend so many years pining over him like an idiot. Another when you tried to stop. And now... he comes in and ruins everything." 

Fer mended his brows, attempting to make sense of this new information. "Doesn't explain why you can't believe it. You liked him. He likes you now. What’s the difference?" 

You shifted uncomfortably. Perhaps this was a conversation you should've had with Hattie or your aunt. But those were people too close to you as they were to Oscar. You needed to get away. Even for a little bit. But the thing about people like Fer and Pedri who were mostly indifferent to Oscar was that they were unintentionally pushing your limits.  

Case in point being Fer.  

"I know Oscar more than he knows himself," you breathed out after a few minutes. "Not just because I'm his friend. But because I spent so many years wanting to know him like that. Because I loved him. But I don't think he knows me like that," you whispered as the doubt began to creep into your mind.  

Maybe it had been fun and games that day in the paddock or in the kitchen. Reaffirming just how much you knew each other. But you were quite sure that whatever he felt, if he did feel anything at all, was nothing to the years you had spent loving him. Like a weighing scale, it was all unbalanced.  

You blinked. "And he just broke up with his girlfriend a few months ago, you know. I'm just not sure if he's in the right mindset and—"  

Fer leaned up from the couch, brows mended incredulously. "You think you're a rebound?" 

Pedri sat straight at those words, looking over at you with a sudden soft yet stern exterior. He breathed in at your silence, confirming his beliefs. "You can't be serious. ___, you're not a rebound. You're never a rebound." 

"I just don't get it," you grumbled, frustrated entirely. "How is it that I can't move on after all these years from him and he just... can? That was his first love. How could he possibly love someone like me after her?" 

Pedri blinked slowly. In the few years of knowing, he knew you to be quite strong-minded. And while no one was susceptible to it, insecurity was never really one of your weaknesses. But in this moment, he could see it. That mental comparison in your head.  

Were you pathetic for still feeling so deeply for Oscar after all these years? And if someone's first love was indeed as pathetic as you thought it to be, then Oscar could only like you because he was lacking the stability his own had once brought him. Because waiting all these years, watching him fall for someone that wasn't you when you had been there all along, made you wonder what that moment in the water really even meant. 

A frown formed on Pedri's face. It was one thing doubting yourself. But seeing your confidence knocked down altogether...  

Pushing himself off the couch, he sat crouched in front of you, eyes peering up as you had just done not so long ago. His hand shifted to your knee, comforting and reassuring. "___, I promise you, you aren't someone people don't fall in love with. So whatever you're thinking in that pretty little head of yours... stop." 

You sighed, giving him a resigned look. "Pedri—" 

"I'm telling the truth. There is a lot to love about you," Pedri murmured, smile soft and tight. Almost regretful.  

You pursed your lips at the sight. "Hey, come on—" 

"You can't fight a heart," Pedri cut in, standing back up onto his feet. "So don't bother trying." 

"I'm sorry, you did what?" Lando queried, almost losing balance of the dumbbell in his hands, widely eyeing his teammate through the mirror.  

Oscar gave him a small, feeble glare. "I kissed ___," he muttered through clenched teeth, turning his neck against the strained resistance band, force creeping up tightly. 

"And to think all I asked for was a dip in the ocean," Lando sighed, shaking his head with disbelief. Soon enough, the corners of his mouth quirked up with approval and admiration. "Mate, you are on your game right now." 

"Yeah, I wouldn't quite say that," Oscar said, sighing as Kim released the band. "Wehaven'ttalkedsincethen." 

Lando turned his head at the barely audible words of his teammate, resting his dumbbell back on the rack.  "Sorry. What was that?" He asked, raising his brow.  

Oscar pressed his lips together, awkwardly rubbing his arms, curling his fingers. "Uh... we haven't really talke—" 

"Haven't really what?" 

"T-Talked," Oscar repeated. "We haven't really talked since then." 

"Oscar, you idiot," Lando sighed heavily, hands immediately covering his face in disappointment. "You didn't, I don't know, call her? Text her?" 

Oscar tried not to wince at the grimace on Lando and his trainer's face. He cleared his throat, taking a step forward to discreetly speak. He breathed in. "So about that. Funny thing. After I kissed her... she kind of told me I was her first love, and she couldn’t really do it again. So, you know, I thought she'd like some space." 

Lando's eyes widened, blinking blankly at him. "Fucking hell," he murmured after some time. His brows mended slightly. "How are you not freaking out?" 

Oscar swallowed. He was. He totally was.  

It had been around three days since then. And he hadn’t heard a single thing from you. He didn’t think you were avoiding him. He thought you needed time to process it. And hell, he needed it as much as you did.  

The words had been repeating over and over in his head.  

"Then I'll fall in love with you... again."  

"And you won't... again." 

He couldn't forget the way you said it or how you looked as you did. The desperation on your face. The plea teeming from your lips. Your eyes glossed. And yet there was something he still couldn’t quite decipher. These struggle in those very eyes. 

It wasn't like you had pushed him away. Not exactly anyways. You had reciprocated it for that minute. He hadn't imagined your lips moving against his. For a moment in time, you had wanted it at much as he did.  

But that didn't change anything. This new fundamental truth had shaken his very core. You had been in love with him from the very start. And he had never known.  

He had been thinking about it before he went to sleep. Revisiting all the memories he had with you, trying to pinpoint where your feelings might have changed. And some of those memories had indeed changed. Your reactions during boarding school. Your cautious approaches with Lily, supportive but not too invested either. Hattie's lingering looks between the both of you.  

And suddenly, those two years apart had made sense. Yes, you had sacrificed a lot of relationships and memories during that period. But all that distancing and time away... it was because of him. Even how Hattie had made a sudden effort to stop mentioning you quite as much.  

Truth be told, it terrified him. How deep this ran.  

How could he have not known? Would things have changed if he had? Would he have liked you as much as he did now? Perhaps. Perhaps not. He’d never know.  

"And you won't... again." 

No. This time things were different. This time your feelings were aligned.  

He wanted this to work, and he wanted it to be with you.  

Hattie stared at your name in her contacts; lip pulled between her teeth as she debated. She had heard what had happened from Oscar, of course. But what terrified her the most was the silence on your end. Not one text or call.  

Usually with things like this, it was you who reached out first. You panicking over the phone as you had done for years.  

Hattie had always been in a tough position when it came to the situation. For a majority of it, although she was Oscar's sister, she was your best friend. In a time where he knew nothing and hadn’t batted an eye to you in the way you wanted. But now things had changed. Oscar knew. Oscar's feelings had changed.  

And now she was caught between being a sister and best friend. The fine line. 

A sigh fell from her lips as she pressed your name, letting the ring ruminate in her room. By the fifth ring, she wondered whether you would pick up. She figured you were as far away from Oscar as possible. Knowing you, you weren't even in Monaco. And her brother found waiting around your apartment too invasive.  

"Hey, Hats." 

Hattie blinked, thumb gliding to switch to a video call instantly, propping her phone against her bed post. "Hey," she greeted after a moment, trying to sus the unfamiliar background you. "How are you? You don't seem to be... home." 

You breathed in, nodding slowly. "Yeah, um, I'm not. Not even in Monaco actually," you chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of your neck. “Just doing a quick mental reset before the Netherlands." 

"That's good," Hattie murmured with a small smile. She could spot the tension in your body from miles away. "Is everything... alright?" She started.  

You paused for a moment before nodding quickly. "Yup. Perfect." 

A frown threatened to etch onto Hattie's face. She swallowed, mulling over a choice of words that wouldn’t make you hang up the phone. But of course, there weren't many options. "Are you sure? Oscar called me recently and—" 

You sighed deeply, hand rubbing your face tiredly. "Look that was just a mistake—" 

"A mistake?" Hattie repeated, brows raised. This was her you were talking to. "My lovely, this is all you’ve ever wanted and you're saying it's a mistake. Oscar freaking likes you and—" 

"That's not true. He doesn't," you retorted quickly. “He just isn't in the right mindset after Lily. Whatever he feels... it'll go away." 

Hattie fell silent at your words, brown eyes almost piercing you through the screen while she dissected your defence. She spoke carefully and calm, eerily similar to her brother. "You think my brother is using you as a rebound? The Oscar?" She asked, almost offended. She swallowed, clearing her mind at the mere thought. She could tell you were scared. Wary.  

She breathed in softly. "You know him. He would never do that. Not to anyone and especially not to you," she murmured.  

You blinked. You knew that deep down. Rebound and Oscar didn't go well together.  

"I just don't get why," you heaved after a moment, relaying what you had learnt so recently after being pushed by Fer and Pedri. "Why not then. Why now? What makes me so different now? I went through all of that and I almost moved on. And the only reason I can think of is this. I'm here after she is. Easy access or something." 

The frown Hattie had been trying to suppress made its way clearly onto her face. Your torment was evident. And she wasn't quite sure if she could be the one to solve it. This was up to Oscar.  

She sighed a second later. "That's just how the heart is and you know it. You can't control it or turn it off. You can't choose who to like. Just like how you have no control over Oscar. Sure, these have been long years for you. Yes, you suffered and you cried. But a person in love is always the winner. The fact you feel as happy as you to do when it comes to him... isn't that what matters the most? Letting yourself be happy?" 

You gave her a small, empty stare through the screen. But happiness wasn't just Oscar. Happiness was also the dreams you had been trying to achieve. For you. For the women around you. And inextricably tied to it was Oscar.  

If you let your guard down and let yourself fall as you had done before, all you had now could disappear. With the click of a finger. The headlines would talk and the fans would whisper about how you were exactly what they feared you were.  

A woman who couldn't get anything done without the help of a man.  

That of course you'd date your co-worker because what else was a girl to do? 

You had heard of co-worker relationships in the paddock. All initially secret. Hushed under the fear of HR and backlash. Quiet in the fear of a woman losing the job she had worked so hard for all because she had done something as mundane as living a little. All while a man would retain his authority, his position, and his power.  

You couldn't do that. Not when you were so close. Not when you were living your dreams. Nor when you had no idea how to manipulate that level of scrutiny to your advantage, let alone forfeit your passion. You hadn't even signed for another year yet. Effectively, you were seatless while Oscar still had his. With no cushioning or safety net, your hands were tied.  

"Say that again," Oscar barely asked his sister as he laid in his bed, recounting the discussion you had had with her. You had talked to her which made him feel a little better. You were fine at least. But you weren't here. You weren't ten minutes away. And that made him feel worse.  

A deep sigh came from Hattie's end. "I've already said it like ten times. Saying it once more isn’t going to make it any eas—" 

"Hattie." 

She grumbled under her breath. She had already broken girl code in the name of being an honourable sister. But her brother seemed to be rubbing it in her face without even realising. “She thinks she's rebound, okay? That you haven’t processed Lily and you just like her because she's the one that's around." 

Oscar sat up, affronted, chest filled with a sick nausea all of a sudden. "I would never do that," he stated firmly. 

"I know that. And she does too. I just..." Hattie sighed, pinching the nose of her bridge. "How easy do you think it is for her? She watched you be with Lily for years. Anything she would’ve done, you probably wouldn't have cared like that. So when you pop out of nowhere, freshly single... what else is she supposed to think?" 

Oscar frowned, guilt creeping up silently. "But it's not fake. O-Or... a one-off," he whispered the word with strong distaste. "Sure, it's random and the timing is awful, but I can't help it. She's the one person that makes me happy right now. And it’s not because of Lily. Things were miserable far before our breakup. I just... for the first time in a while, it feels like I can breathe a little. Be me unapologetically. No cameras, no media. Like if I talked to her about anything, she'd understand. And I want to be that for her." 

Hattie smiled softly at her phone. Her brother had always been quite mature. Maybe forced to if one argued it well enough. But now she was sure, he had definitely grown. She hummed quietly, looking over at her clock. She'd been awake for far too long now. "Look I don't know if she'll be back in Monaco soon or not. But you'll have to see her for the race next week, yeah? Maybe forget the 'show' part of things and instead tell her what you told me. Or better yet, call her." 

Oscar blinked tiredly and nodded from his side. "Yeah, okay," he yawned his agreement. "Thanks, Hats. Goodnight." 

Hattie chuckled gently. "Goodnight." 

The incessant buzzing from your phone had gone on for a minute. The second one in an hour.  

"Are you going to answer that or just stare at it?" Pedri queried, taking a seat next to you as he put a cup of lemonade down in front of you.  

"Probably stare at it," you mumbled, lulling your head to the side with a pout, elicting a small chuckle from him. The name sprawled across your screen made your stomach churn. Because it only took one glimpse and suddenly you were back in Monaco. In the cold water. And he was right there. Close. Too close. Leaning down and... 

You sighed sharply, reaching to grab your drink, the cold lemonade soothing your fingertips. Barcelona was hotter than you remembered. The training you had been doing here was lighter than what you had done in Monaco. But the heat had made it far worse.  

You cleared your throat, turning to Pedri. "Can I ask you a question?" 

"If it's about Nilo having a sibling then my answer is still on the fence." 

You rolled your eyes, smiling. "Pedri," you said, giving him a pointed look.  

He grinned quietly, leaning back on the couch, arms folded as they usually were. "Okay, okay. I’m all ears. What is it?" 

"Why did you like me?" 

Pedri blinked like he had misheard you. As though he had suddenly lost his hearing. "What?" He queried, brows mended.  

You shifted in your seat, turning to face him head on. "When we were together... what made you go... 'Yeah, her,' you know?"  

A moment of silence drifted in the air. He knew why you were asking. To reaffirm the disbelief you had been drowning yourself in. He swallowed tightly, moving himself, knee brushing yours before he settled down. "I'll answer your question. But first... why did you like me?" 

You made a face. "What? What kind of stupid question is that? Why wouldn't I have liked you? You’re sweet and kind. You work hard. You have dreams like I do. You're a little bit stupid. And well, I was kind of in it for Nilo. Not to mention, you have a pretty good-looking face," you teased with a whisper.  

He chuckled, head almost bowing down in your lap as his chest rumbled with amusement. A sigh fell from his lips while he looked up, shaking his head at you. "So what makes you think you I didn't see those things too? Your heart is good. You make me laugh. You always treat my parents like yours. And yes, Nilo does love you more than I do. But that's just that. You just did and I just do." 

You bit your lip at the evident present tense. "I'm sorry," you murmured regretfully.  

Pedri smiled gently, giving you a small shrug. "I'm not. Best two years of my life. I'm sure I'll get over it someday. But until then, I'm happy." 

You mended your brows as Hattie's words came to mind. But a person in love is always the winner. You didn't understand what she meant at the time. But in this moment, you understood it.  

Love, much like anything in the world, was whatever you let it be. If it was grief, it'd be grief you felt. Jealousy... if it were miserable and strenuous like the long years you had put into it... then it would be exactly like that.  

But if you let love be love, regardless of the reciprocal feeling, then you'd be the one who’d enjoy it. 

Of course, that was in a perfect world, where you weren't face with your dreams on the line.  

Bzz! Bzz! 

Both you and Pedri turned your heads to the coffee table where your phone lit up with the familiar name. You swallowed, staring at it as you had done before. You didn't think you could answer it right now. Maybe you'd just let it run again. He could leave a voice message or— 

"Hello? You have reached ___'s phone—" 

"Pedri!" You whisper-yelled, eyes wide, hand reaching out to grab your phone with futile efforts as his arms pushed you away.  

"She is currently not available right now. Can I take a message?" 

You stilled, horrified eyes watching Pedri's face while your ears perked at the sound of Oscar's voice.  

"Uh, sure... can you tell her to call me back? It's important." 

Pedri turned to you, raising his brow. "Important," he mouthed with a cheeky grin. More amused with the blank look on your face, he breathed in. "Of course. Oscar, right? I'll be sure to tell her when she gets back. Uh-uh. Bye." 

You stared at your phone as Pedri put it back on the coffee table. Tongue in cheek, you turned back to him with a twitching eye. "Pedri..." You started calmly, "why the fuck would you do that?!"  

Pedri's hands shot out once the couch pillows came hurling at him. "I—ow! Okay, okay!" He shouted, catching the last pillow in the air. He breathed hard, receiving your glare loud and clear. "You wanted to fix your problem, right? What’s worse than jealousy?" 

You almost pouted, falling back into the couch with disbelief.  

A PR-headache. That's what was worse.  

"Catherine, I need you to defend me this weekend," you breathed, looking out at the Zandvoort track edging closer towards you.  

"Sure." Catherine nodded absentmindedly in the car before she looked up from her laptop. "Wait, what? What happened? What did you do?" 

You frowned, turning your head to her from the window. "Why are you assuming I did something?" 

Catherine pointed a brow. "Well... did you?" 

You pursed your lips. You hadn't told her about anything yet. You probably should have. But you didn’t want to make a mountain out of a mole hill. The more attention you gave this, the more of something it became. It was nothing. And it’d remain nothing.  

"Just... keep me away from the McLarens. I don’t want to see any papaya this weekend if I can avoid it," you mumbled, leaning on the car door, feeling the vibrations of the road underneath you.  

Catherine nodded slowly, biting down any comment coming to mind. "Duly noted." 

Everywhere. The damn papaya was every-fucking-where.  

You had first turned to have a small conversation outside the Mercedes' hospitality suite. Just a quick catch up with everyone on how their breaks had gone. But then, from the corner of your eye, you had seen them. Oscar and Lando in a conversation, walking towards their own suite, which was right past yours.  

The moment you had made any sort of eye contact; it was a race to the front door. The humiliation had come pouring in almost instantly. Of what? That you weren't quite sure of. Of how you had reacted? Or of the fact it was Pedri who had picked up your phone.  

You hadn't called him back. Obviously. You weren’t crazy enough to do so. You hadn't even formulated a text plan because every time you did, you found an excuse to delete it.  

And from that very moment, Oscar had been everywhere. It was purposeful, you were sure. The slightly raised arm as he tried to approach you, attempting to catch you. It was like he was hot on your feet. You could barely lose him.  

What part of 'defend' did Catherine not understand?  

Qualifying had been the worst of it.  

"Its Q3 and the headlines are as they have been all weekend! Car 8 versus the McLarens! Each a free practice topper. But it's Piastri and ___ who have been fighting for P1. Three minutes left and one more chance. The Mercedes is on provisional pole. Can Oscar Piastri take down the domineering Silver Arrow?" 

Perhaps you had been of your game. With everything going on, you weren't as locked in as you usually were. Maybe the tyres. You had already done two Q3 laps on the softs. Perhaps there wasn't any more in them. Or perhaps he really had taken one hundredth of a second off you. Because no matter what you did, your last attempt had been your worst.  

Yellow sector one. Yellow sector two. Yellow sector three.  

No significant improvement. Flirting with the curb. And a moment where you had gone wide.  

"Piastri does it! Oscar Piastri takes pole in Zandvoort, and the Silver Arrow splits the McLaren dream team! With home driver Max Verstappen in P4, tomorrow's race start will be nothing short of interesting." 

You swallowed as you wrung your car around the track, bringing back to the designated signs.  

"Well that was—" Bono started on your radio line.  

"Catastrophic?" You queried, grimacing at the sight of the papaya cars parked up ahead of you. You were going to have to get out of this car at some point. 

The static clambered in your ears. "I was going to say it 'wasn't too bad' but..." He trailed off. "You'll get him tomorrow." 

You hummed idly, lining your car with the P2 sign. The unbuckle of the seatbelts and removal your steering wheel had become some sort of art—smooth and easy as you got out of the car. You sighed, drifting towards the weighing scale before removing your helmet and balaclava, wind cooling on your burning skin.  

Your heart paced at the papaya in the corner of your eye but soothed when you spotted the glimpse of tanner skin. "Nice lap," you commented, turning to Lando as you grabbed a bottle of water.  

Lando chuckled softly. "Should say that to you. Driving a shitbox and yet you're P2. I heard a rumour you could get an Aston to P3. Wanna bet?" 

You narrowed your eyes despite the smile on your face. "No more bets with you. I think your bets get me into trouble," you sighed, taking a greedy gulp of water while you watched Oscar get interviewed in your peripheral. You blinked as those brown eyes glided to you. 

Lando pressed his smile down when you began coughing. "I bet they do," he commented. 

You glared, wiping your mouth before you grabbed the Mercedes-embellished cap and shoved it onto your head. The tap on your shoulder marked you to get ready for the microphone while you stepped past Lando and begrudgingly inched towards Oscar.  

Your eyes shook, darting place to place as the cheers began to settle and Oscar turned towards you, gaze unwavering while he pushed the microphone towards you. You smiled so tightly you thought your lips would fall off, lungs curling around a sharp breath as your fingers brushed one another in your endeavour to get it from him.  

With your chest racing, you cleared your throat and stepped to the interviewer, focusing on the words being said rather than the brown eyes watching you from afar.  

"I thought Sophie said to stop being so obvious," Lando said, standing next to his teammate and recalling the instructions he had been given on media day. 

"I am," Oscar mumbled, readjusting his cap. 

Lando raised a brow, turning his head to him. "You've been walking around like a puppy. And you’re literally standing here with heart eyes,” he sighed, shaking his head. 

Oscar gave him a small glare before reverting his eyes back to you. He had already tried to talk to you beforehand. But the desperation had kicked in after Pedri had picked up your phone.  

What the hell were you doing at Pedri's? Had he really misread things this badly? 

"And lastly, what is it going to take to get past Oscar tomorrow? He's been quick all weekend." 

You breathed in, pondering. That was the question you had been wondering for a while now. "A little bit of guts and a good pitstop?" You raised your brows, faint grin on your face as the small laughter erupted.  

"The perfect recipe, right? Well, good luck for tomorrow. Thank you, ___." 

You smiled, giving back the microphone while your head tilted, eyes searching for Catherine or anyone you could recognise while you began walking. Never in your life had you thought you’d actually wish to go to all your mandatory interviews. But here you were.  

You swallowed tightly as the familiar shade of papaya caught up to you at last, manoeuvring the swarms of people just as well as you.  

"You can't ignore me forever," Oscar murmured, walking side by side next to you.  

You pursed your lips, eyes flickering over the crowd as Catherine finally appeared on the other side of you. You gave her a blank look, sucking in a sharp breath before barely turning your head to him. "I'm not ignoring you." 

Oscar chuckled to himself. "Really? Because you can't even look me in the eye and the only time I can seem to catch you is in a moment like this," he retorted, perfectly well-reasoned and that irritated you. Of course he was.  

He sighed at your silence as you both neared the conference room. "Look, I just... I'm confused, okay? N-Not about this. Us. I'm perfectly clear about how I feel. But we need to talk about that night. This. About Pedri." 

You winced at the mention of his name, feet stopping in the corridor. You turned with another deep breath in. "Then I'll make it easier for you, Osc. Forget about it and I will too. And we'll still be good friends, I promise."  

Oscar furrowed his brows. "Wait, what? What are you talking about?" He asked incredulously, oblivious to the poorly covered grimaces on Lando and Catherine's faces. "This isn't something I can just forget. W-Why are you making this so difficult for yourself?"  

You bit your lip, eyeing the curious onlooks walking by. You looked back at Oscar with a sigh. "There is too much for me to lose, Oscar," you whispered, voice strained. "I waited for so long. Nothing happened. And that's okay. But when I used that time to get here and finally get to be something... you can't expect me to throw that away in a few seconds." 

Oscar blinked, feeling the shift in the breeze as you walked past him silently. Stumped for a moment, it wasn't till Lando put a hand on his shoulder. "C'mon, mate. Let's just get through the weekend." 

Zandvoort had been catastrophic for McLaren. Or at least for Lando. An engine oil leak that had forced him to retire on lap sixty-five, letting his own fight in the championship take a blow. Additionally, Max had also been struggling in the Red Bull, and you had never quite made it past Oscar as intended.  

The silver lining? 

You had gotten to share a podium with Isack.  

For a moment, you were able to breathe. Forget whatever problems you had been trying to solve or not solve for the past week or so. Because if you looked back at the pictures taken that day, you found the little versions of you and Isack staring right back. The ones that desperately wished to be in Formula One. And here you were, living your dreams. 

It made Oscar think about your words as he looked at the two of you, both practically half in tears while you jumped with joy. This is what you had meant. What you had fought for to be here. To stand in front of a crowd and enjoy the same dreams you had with the people you had grown up with. At the same level. With no questions as to why you were there.  

Truth be told, it had totally slipped his mind. The pressures you were facing. He was so caught up in his feelings that he hadn't stopped for a second and thought about what you would lose. 

You were right. The headlines were already strange enough. They would have a field day ripping you apart. And he would probably get away scot-free. No damage done. His name intact as well as his reputation.  

But why did they have to know? He meant what he had said. Romance wasn't dead if you could keep it just yours.  

Besides, how could he forget? How could he just walk around and pretend that every fibre of him wasn’t calling to you? Like he wasn't thinking about you constantly or fighting the urge to openly hold your hand? 

And it was in that split second; it dawned on him.  

This was exactly how you had felt for all those years.  

Monza looked the same as it usually did. Mostly covered in red, chanting Ferrari's name. You had been more consistent than last week. Topping free practice over and over again. You were sure people had tuned out by Q3 where you had crossed the line with the fastest time.  

Always the collective sigh for Ferrari. You hoped one day that would change for them. But today was not that day.  

After a long day, you had cooped yourself in your hotel room, trying to prepare for tomorrow. But the good news you had been waiting for had finally come, keeping you awake.  

You gasped, almost instantly pouting at your screen. "There they are. My lucky charms," you whispered in awe, eyeing the two newborns. They were two sweet little girls. Healthy and oh so perfect.  

Your aunt chuckled softly next to her husband while Nicole agreed behind the phone. "They just wanted to be here for your win, you know," she teased, exhaustion clear on her face. 

"Whoa, stepping the gun there," you narrowed your eyes, grin still apparent. You sighed, settling in your chair, looking at your aunt with a little concern. "Are you feeling okay? Everything's fine? That must've been hard," you frowned.  

Your aunt smiled gently. "I'm fine. They were a bit of pain," she grumbled, making you laugh quietly. She breathed deeply out, looking down at her children. "Worth it though," she murmured, squeezing Dylan's hand.  

You watched softly, unexplainably happy. After she had sacrificed so much for you, this is what she deserved. A family that was hers. That didn’t make her work as tirelessly when she was unprepared to do so. And knew you, from the bottom of your heart, those two was in the safest hands ever to exist.  

You blinked as one of them yawned quietly, making you smile. "I think this one's getting bored of you," Nicole teased behind the camera. "They're asking for Uncle Osc too." 

You blinked, pursing your lips. "Can't we just add him to the call?" You sighed dramatically, not willing to move. Surprisingly, Oscar had kept a cautious distance from you within the past week, only talking when it was necessary. Though his gaze said something else entirely.  

"___, go to Oscar," your aunt narrowed her eyes, catching your reluctance in an instance. Both her and Nicole had clearly been informed by Hattie, not playing by your rules so easily  

You curled your lip, muttering something incoherent under your breath as you pushed yourself off your chair and unlocked your hotel door. "I'll call back," you waved at the camera, tucking your phone into your pocket, grabbing your keycard, and shoving your feet into your shoes. 

You headed towards the elevator, punching the down button, leaving you waiting, foot tapping away on the floor. Of course, when everything was working out for you, now you were putting yourself in the position to meet him instead.  

It didn't matter though, right? You said you'd be good friends with him. Nothing could possibly in a small meeting like this.  

You blinked at the open elevator doors, taking a step forward and pushing the button for the floor below you. The journey short, you peeked your head into the familiar corridor once you arrived. He was down at the end. You forced yourself out of the elevator, inching slowly to the haunting door.  

You eyed the number, pursing your lips with even more reluctance. But the thought of going back up and calling back with no Oscar terrified you even more. So you swallowed whatever pride you had left and knocked. The few seconds you waited felt like hours.  

Your breath caught at the twist of the lock, expectant gaze loitering as Oscar opened the door. The surprise was evident in those brown eyes and yet your cheeks were flushing. you flashed the reminder in your head. Friends. Friends. Friends. 

"___," Oscar breathed, smile soft.  

You returned the gesture timidly, giving him an awkward brief wave. "Hey," you greeted, losing your ability to think. Wait. Why were you here again? Oh... right. "Uh, my nieces, a few hours old, are apparently already picking favourites. So... here I am." 

He mended his brows before looking at your phone dangling in front of his face. The crease between his brows quickly eased in recognition. "Right, of course. Um, yeah. Come in," he nodded, stepping back to let you in.  

You smiled tightly, removing your shoes as you unlocked your phone, calling Nicole back. Eyeing his room, you opted for the small coffee table and sofa in the corner, placing your phone against the complimentary vase and box of sweets Oscar had unbothered to open.  

Oscar closed his door, not quite believing you were here in his hotel room, dressed in your pyjamas before race day. The daunting realisation he had in Zandvoort had made him want to try and live even a week of how you had felt. So he tried the whole maintained distance. Cautious and pining from afar. Of course, the blaring difference was that you weren't dating anyone. But Pedri's phone call was as close as it got.  

What had he learnt?  

It fucking sucked.  

For every little thing, he had to think twice. About how it would be perceived. To hold back. To smile in secret. Fawn behind the cameras. To stand back when fans and so called 'journalists' were so obviously flirting with you.  

He absolutely profoundly hated it.  

"Oscar?"  

He blinked at the call of his name, watching you point to your phone. Right. He cleared his throat, moving to take a seat next to you. Knees and arms brushing as he leaned in with a growing smile.  

"Oh congratulations," he said, eyes melting over the two girls in frame. "They're beautiful." 

You pressed your smile down. Oscar always sounded a little funny when he did these things. He never quite had that small little gasp that everyone else did. But the way he said things after... earnest and warm. You could always tell he meant it.  

"Oh!" Nicole gasped as the very same twin beamed at the camera. "She totally loves Uncle Osc. Don't you!" 

You frowned, leaning in next to him, showing little care to how close you were to him. "Hey, that's not fair. What about me?" 

Nicole rolled her eyes. "One for Osc. One for you. Hattie and the rest will have to share," she heaved theatrically.  

Oscar chuckled while you snorted. "What are their names?" He queried with curiosity making you realised you hadn't a clue either.  

Your aunt smiled, looking between Nicole and Dylan. "I was wondering when you'd ask," she teased tiredly. "You wanna show them?" 

"Of course," Dylan said, taking the phone from Nicole, shifting the camera over to the temporary nameboards. "Here they are." 

You and Oscar leaned in together, narrowing your eyes at the small handwriting. Oscar, ever the faster reader, whipped his head to you, a gentle surprise washed over his face while you blinked once. Twice. And once more.  

You rubbed your eyes in disbelief, hands beginning to shake a little as yout heart dropped in your chest. "Is that..." You trailed off, swallowing nervously. "You gave them my name as their middle name?" You whispered, looking over at Oscar to confirm. 

He smiled, hand reaching to grab yours, giving you a reassuring squeeze. You bit your lip, turning back to the phone. "That's... That's really sweet," you murmured, voice strained, eyes stinging. “Thank you." 

Your aunt reached gestured for the phone, watery smile on her face as she looked at you. "You are as much as my daughter as they are, yeah? I haven’t replaced you. Sister... aunt... whatever you wanna be. You're equally as mine." 

You breathed in sharply, eyes no longer just stinging, vision blurred. You nodded rigidly, blowing some air into your face while you fanned your eyes. "God, it's so hot in here," you said, choked.  

The eye roll from your aunt was on cue. "You two need sleep, yeah? Big day tomorrow. Now play nice. I don't want any drama out there." 

You chuckled, sniffling. "Yeah. You get some sleep too. Tell me when you get home, okay? A-And call me. Even if you think it's really late," you mumbled, eyes still furiously watering.  

"Okay, okay. Goodnight, honey. You too, Osc," your aunt smiled, waving at the camera with the twins and Dylan in frame. 

Nicole grabbed the phone with that gentle, mothering smile she always had. "I'll keep you guys updated, hmm? Now go to bed, sweeties. Good luck for tomorrow." 

You both waved goodbye as Oscar leaned in, cutting the call. He turned to you, brown eyes drifting to your hands and then to your face. He frowned at the rolls of silent tears dripping down your cheeks. "Hey, hey," he whispered, other hand reaching out to hold your face. "What's wrong?" 

You shook your head, swallowing hard. "I just... that was really nice of her. She didn't have to do that. I don't deserve that after being such a big burden on her," you whispered, shaky eyes on your phone, still imagining the faint traces of everyone on the screen just seconds ago.  

Oscar sucked in a sharp breath; chest weighed with an aching uneasiness. His hands both moved to curl around your body, bringing you closer while his chin rested over your head. "That's not true. You heard her," he softly said, hand rubbing your back soothingly. "You're always her's. Not a burden. Never a burden. You hear me?" 

"Yeah," you nodded, voice muffled against his chest. You wiped your damp cheeks, sniffling once again. You began shifting up, head lifting. You rubbed your temples, exhaustion still seeping through your body after today. "Probably should get some sleep." 

"Sleep here." 

You blinked, looking at him pointedly. "You and I both know that's not a good idea." 

Oscar tilted his head. "Do we?" He queried, standing up from the sofa. He stretched his hand out towards you. "It's just sleeping." 

You pressed your lips together, sore eyes peering at him. You could've easily stood up and walked out. One elevator ride up was all there was between you and your own bed. It would've been safer to listen to your brain.  

But in moments like these, your heart, fraudulent as ever, acted out of its own will.  

"Okay." 

Oscar breathed in at the feel of your hand gliding into his palm, pulling you up swiftly, leaving barely any room between the both of you. For a moment he stared. It was warm and soft. And after deciding it was long enough, wordlessly he brought you along to his bed. 

He left you for a brief second, turning off the lights. And through the rays of moonlight from his window, he could see your shadowed figure move and shift under his duvet. His steps were cautious, still navigating this unfamiliar room as he found himself on the opposite side of the bed.  

You could feel the mattress dip next to you while you laid on your back, staring at the ceiling quietly, fingers fidgeting with an oddly calm nervousness. Even inches away, you could feel the heat radiate from his body. You could see him turn on his side from the corner of your eye. You copied him, tucking your hand against your cheek.  

You smiled gently at the hints of moonlight fawning over Oscar's face. "Goodnight, Osc," you whispered.  

He swallowed tightly. "Goodnight, ___."