#lovesong

“No, mate, I really wish you’d seen his face. Eyes bugging out and all. It was a right laugh, I swear to you.” Lando Norris, your best friend, slapped his knee in an overly dramatic gesture of mirth. He was prone to theatrics, of course, but it always startled you how startlingly different he was than his male counterpart. That other friend in question was staring at him with an expression that could only be described as utterly bewildered. “I can’t believe you aren’t laughing your arses off right now. God, you must be robots or some other inhuman shit. Everyone else was howling when I told them.”

“I’m grateful that you never pursued a career in comedy. Imagine the poor souls at your shows… They wouldn’t know what hit them,” Oscar said dryly. The corner of his lip twitched in amusement at the thought.

Lando frowned, turning his head towards you with a pleading expression, hazel eyes glossy with unshed tears. In Lando’s mind, the worst possible offense was finding his half-baked jokes unfunny. You prayed internally that you wouldn’t be called to the stand and forced to testify. “Oh come on, it wasn’t that bad. Was it, Y/N?”

“I…” You trailed off, lifting your hands in surrender, unwilling to lie through your teeth. “Lan, it’s no big deal if one joke didn’t make us laugh.”

“Yes it is,” Lando shot back as blotchy patches of red began to crawl up the side of his neck: another warning sign of an upcoming breakdown. “I’m funny as hell — that’s what everyone says — but according to you, I have the humor of a rock.”

Oscar clapped Lando on the shoulder, trying to soothe him. “Don’t worry, mate. Not everyone can be talented.” 

“Oh, fuck you, Oscar.” Lando narrowed his eyes. “You’re just too busy daydreaming about that new girl of yours to pay attention to me, your best friend for years and years.”

What?

Oscar’s eyes widened, and your gaze flashed over to him in shock. “What new girl?” You said, barely choking the words out. “Oscar, have you been hiding a whole entire girlfriend from me?”

“No,” he stuttered out. “No, there’s no girlfriend. Just, um, someone I have my eye on. Lando’s making a big deal out of nothing. If it was serious, I’d tell you. You know I would.”

You forced yourself to smile, because you were the master at playing the façade of being a good friend, even though it felt like your insides were burning in a pit of hellish fire. Oscar was painfully shy even with people he was friendly with. Maybe it would be a good thing if he was on the dating scene; it would coax him out of his shell. 

But you hated the thought of him cozying up to someone else, another woman who had ulterior motives of marriage and children, who would eventually try to tear him away from you and Lando. You’d been writing those fears off as jealousy and overprotectiveness for years, despite knowing the true root of the issue. It was getting increasingly harder to deny the fact that you had a crush on him, and as time passed, you were struggling to keep it a secret.

“I was surprised too,” Lando said, nudging you. He obviously took your shock as something else, and you were grateful for the alternate interpretation.

“There’s no one,” Oscar retorted defensively. “At all. You two are insufferable.”

Lando huffed. “You’re gaslighting me right now, and I won’t stand for it.”

“No, you’re just making a mountain out of a molehill,” Oscar responded.

“But if there was someone, you’d tell us, right?” You said, hating how petulant and childish you sounded. So what if Oscar wanted privacy and discretion with his love life? It wasn’t like he owed you anything, no matter how many years you’d shared. And God knew, if you ever did get a boyfriend, you didn’t want Lando and Oscar sticking their noses into your business. They’d scare that boy off in a tick. “I mean, you don’t have to.” You added quickly, shifting uncomfortably under the heat of Oscar’s gaze. It was so obvious how fucked over you were if Oscar did decide to get a partner. You wouldn’t be able to bear it, the easy smiles, the faux kindness, the questions, the advice. 

“If there was, I would,” Oscar reassured you. 

Lando grinned. “That girl would break a twenty-year oath of celibacy. Astounding, really, how you’ve held on to that for so long. Your moral compass is like no other.”

“Don’t insult him,” you scolded Lando, rising to his defense even though you knew you shouldn’t.

“I wasn’t,” Lando said harshly. “But, I’m sorry if I was.”

“Doesn’t matter to me, Lan,” Oscar said, forgiving as always, as he took a sip from his glass of wine. 

Later, when Lando had gone to take a leak in the bathroom, Oscar coughed like he was trying to unstick words that were clogged in his throat. You looked up from the crossword you were solving – six letter word for love, from the title of a play by Williams – and waited for Oscar to bite out what he wanted to say.

“I’m sorry about what Lando said earlier,” he finally muttered. “I don’t… I’ve never really…”

You shook your head, cutting him off before he could embarrass himself further. “Stop. You don’t need to apologize to me in the slightest. You know Lando likes instigating drama. It was just another one of those times, and you don’t have to explain yourself at all.”

“He saw me signing up for a dating app,” Oscar blurted. His ears blazed crimson, and you thought he might burst with self-consciousness. “Something that – that a guy at work mentioned. I thought I might register. See if it opens any doors.”

Oh, Oscar. Can’t you see that the person you’re looking for has been here the whole time? You yearned to confess. “Hmm, that’s nice. Heard that’s pretty common for people our age nowadays,” you said calmly, fiddling with the papery-soft edge of the crossword. Suddenly, you were grateful for the acting lessons you took back in secondary school. You prayed your features were schooled into perfect nonchalance that would disguise the raging tempest in your stomach. Oscar couldn’t know. Not now, not ever. It would ruin everything. 

“I haven’t swiped right on anybody yet, but I’m hoping I might soon,” Oscar said. “Lando wants me to connect with everyone, just so I’ll have a higher chance of success, but I think that’s superficial. I mean, you get it.”

“Yeah, right. Of course,” you fibbed.

“Sorry, I’m distracting you from your puzzle,” Oscar said, jerking his head to the side and cutting off the awkward word-vomit ramble. Thank God.

You tilted your head down, focusing back on the black-and-white tiles. How ironic. The answer was Desire. Those empty spots, with etched-in and erased pencil marks, were less of a mystery than what lay between you and your best friend. 

TEN YEARS EARLIER

The house at the end of your lane had stood empty for as long as you could remember. But your mother had surprised you with the news that a family from Melbourne would be moving in at the end of the month. You immediately pressed her for further details, yet all she would tell you was that there would be children for you to be friends with. That was satisfying enough; your neighborhood was devoid of people in your generation, other than the college students that rented a flat two blocks down. 

You eagerly awaited their arrival, counting the days with anticipation you’d only ever experienced when it was time for a family vacation or your birthday. When it finally came, you assumed a spot by the front window, watching as a moving truck parked in the driveway and a family of six spilled out.

Your mother called out to you as you rocketed through the door, but the words were lost to the wind. All you could hear was the thudding of your heart in your ears and your excited giggles that could barely be contained.

“Hi,” you said cheerily once you skidded to a stop by their porch. “I’m Y/N, I live just across the street. It’s nice to meet you.”

The three girls blinked at you owlishly. They all looked around the same age, but they were much younger than you. That couldn’t be who your mother was talking about, so who was the other – ? 

Oh.

A boy with mussed brown hair and lanky limbs stared at you from the foyer, head cocked to the side like a curious puppy. “Hi,” you said again, bouncing over to where he stood. “I’m –”

“I heard. I’m Oscar.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you responded. “I can show you my spot by the lake later, if you want. We can get ice lollies from the store, and you can tell me all about Australia. I’ve never been; I’ve lived in London my whole life.”

“You talk so fast,” Oscar noted softly.

“Sorry. I know this must be so different, and you must be knackered. I’ll come back tomorrow, when you’re all settled in.” You flashed him a bright smile, remembering your manners that your mother taught you. “Goodbye, Oscar.”

“Goodbye…” Oscar stammered. “I’ll see you later, I guess?”

PRESENT-DAY

There was a special circle of Hell reserved for people like your boss. You resisted the urge to smack your head until it bled out on the desk, wishing you could be anywhere other than your blindingly white cubicle at work. It wasn’t like you hated your job — no, it was the complete opposite. You actually enjoyed creating social media campaigns, knowing that your public relations degree had been useful for something. 

But it was the monotony that killed you, the constant loop of genesis and inevitable destruction as you attempted to revise the advertisements you’d painstakingly formatted. You understood that the marketing industry was cutthroat, that one mistake could plummet sales and cause a well-established company to crumble. Yet it wouldn’t prevent you from bemoaning the predicament you found yourself in.

You waded through the pits of Google, scrolling past articles that were clickbait at their best and a defamation lawsuit at their worst. The bolded blue headlines began to blur, and you suppressed a yawn that had been building up in your throat. When was the last time you had a full night’s rest, unimpeded by the long drudgery of your job? You hummed softly, a feeble attempt to distract yourself as you typed in a new set of phrases. 

More baseless celebrity drama, a new sports drink, and… a public invitation to a matchmaking ceremony in a bar downtown. 

Interesting.

The memory of your last conversation with Oscar echoed in your mind. You pressed on the link, which sent you to a website with a dazzling pink-and-white layout. You grinned at the image of a wedding cake, topped with a little moving graphic of a groom and a bride. Whoever had made it definitely knew how to keep things in theme without going overboard and being tasteless or tacky. So this must be a professional event, an official declaration for all to see. 

You moved down, absorbing the information. The matchmaking would take place in the Society Lounge, some hangout that you’d never ventured to. The risk was evident – it would be embarrassing getting caught at such an event, especially if Lando found out – but so was the reward. You’d wanted a boyfriend for ages, though you’d never done much to get one: the dating landscape was terrifying, especially for your age group. Everyone made grand pronouncements about who they were, which were all an illusion like the Wizard of Oz’s golden mask. 

Maybe this was your chance. The only thing you had to do was reach out and seize the opportunity. You forwarded the link to your personal email, so you could research it further on your downtime. 

Once you were back home, huddled up under your thick web of blankets, you pulled up the email with the link to the matchmaking event. It was still open for signups, and without another second of hesitation, you filled out the necessary details for yourself…and Oscar, who would be accompanying you.

It seemed so easy, but you knew you weren’t in the clear just yet. How would you broach the topic with Oscar, who was infamously skittish when it came to anything related to love lives? The fact that he’d enrolled in a dating app did increase your chances of success, but you knew he would ask a thousand questions. The only thing you could do for now was cross your fingers and hope your plan worked.

Your phone buzzed with an incoming notification – a text from none other than Oscar Piastri himself.

OSCAR  [19:46]  Saw this bird earlier today. Thought of you. 

An image was attached to the message, and you double-tapped it to enlarge the picture. A cute black-and-gray starling was mid-hop in a plaza square, nibbling at seeds on the ground. You snorted.

Y/N  [19:47]  how does that remind you of me. be honest

You watched as three dots appeared on the screen, signifying that Oscar was coming up with a response to your question.

OSCAR  [19:47]  It wouldn’t stop bothering people for their food. Does that answer your question?

You scoffed. Wow.

Y/N  [19:48]  god forbid a girl likes eating 💔

OSCAR [19:48]  Talking about food, I just ordered takeout from the Chinese restaurant downtown. Want to come over?

Your heart caught in your chest, tangling up in the fragile threads of hope. If he was alone, without Lando hanging around, it would be the perfect chance to inform him about the matchmaking ceremony. You bolted up from your fetal position, quickly typing a “yes”, and half-jogged to your closet. 

You grabbed a baggy hoodie and flared leggings, the two closest items to you. A rapid fire check in the mirror showed that your hair wasn’t too messed up from the ponytail you’d tucked it in earlier, and you grabbed a few things off of your counter before heading out the door.

Oscar was already waiting for you, a bag of your favorite chips securely grasped in his fingers like a covered prize. “Look what I got,” he said, grinning from ear-to-ear. 

“Sustenance,” you nearly groaned, hands immediately extending to grab it. “Thank you, Osc. You’re the best.”

“Nuh uh, not yet, Y/N,” Oscar shook his head, retracting the chips before you could take them. “You’ve got to tell me why you canceled next week’s movie night first.”

You blinked. “O – Oh,” you stuttered. So the cat was out of the bag then, and you scrambled for a coherent answer. “I mean… Well…”

“Come on, Y/N, spit it out. I’ve never seen you this tongue-tied before.”

You cleared your throat, buying a few extra seconds. “I might’ve stumbled on an ad for a matchmaking ceremony? And signed us up for it? Just to see if maybe something… I don’t know.” You flailed your arms awkwardly.

“A matchmaking ceremony? Are we from the sixteen hundreds all of a sudden?” Oscar joked, obviously thinking you weren’t being serious.

You stared at him. “No, Oscar – I’m telling the truth. You told me about how you signed up for Tinder, or something else, and I thought it might be good for you. For me. For us.”

“That’s Lando’s sort of thing,” Oscar said, puzzled. “Did you conspire with him?”

“No, no, no,” you said instantly. “I saw it and planned it all out on my own. Lando has no idea. I want to keep it this way.”

“I don’t get it. You seemed like you hated the idea of me dating someone. But now you’re actively trying to set me up?” Oscar questioned, tilting his head to the side.

“It’s not just you who would have a date. I’d be getting one too,” you pointed out. “And I don’t care, really, who you decide to see.”

For a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something in Oscar’s eyes, but it was gone too quickly for you to fully recognize what it was. “Alright then,” Oscar mused. “Might as well do it; we have nothing to lose. Who knows – I might meet the love of my life.”

You chuckled softly. “Yeah, maybe.” Or maybe she’s right in front of you.

The Society Lounge was a cozy nook in the middle of downtown London, with a sleek modern design. You wrapped your fingers around Oscar’s forearm to avoid losing him in the crowded restaurant. “Let’s sit here,” you murmured to him, nodding your head towards a comfortable side booth.

“Sure.” 

You took your spot, craning your neck to see the mahogany podium stationed at the front of the room. A woman, with silky black hair and flawless makeup, was already standing there, shuffling a thick stack of papers. 

“I think it’s starting,” you said, just as the lights dimmed and the woman readjusted the microphone on the stand, a signal that she was about to begin speaking.

“Hello all. My name is Mai Nguyen,” the woman introduced herself. “If you could all please take out your phones and enter the app Matchstick, which you should have downloaded before arriving at this event.”

You and Oscar dutifully extracted your phones, following Mai’s instructions. 

“Enter the code 81433. The information for your profile should also already be complete. Once you’ve done so, it will ask you a set of 5 to 10 questions. Answer it as carefully and accurately as possible. Then, the algorithm will calculate your closest match.” Mai took a pause to ensure everyone was listening. “We’ll have a period of time where all guests can find their match, and engage with them. That’s all for now. Have a great night, and may you find the love of your life.”

The quiz itself was simplistic, primarily asking questions pertaining to your hobbies and interests, amongst other topics.

What’s your love language?

Would you rather spend time at home, or out socializing?

Do you value honesty over kindness?

When the quiz was submitted, you were sent to a loading screen. You glanced across the table. Oscar’s eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, mouth screwed up as he contemplated his choices. He really was taking this seriously.

A few minutes later, Mai stepped back up to the platform. The speaker buzzed as she said, “Alright, looks like everyone is finished. The results should be out in approximately thirty seconds, and we’ll begin the mingling period about two minutes after.”

As she finished speaking, you looked down at your phone again. You wondered whose face would pop up on your screen: a man’s? A woman’s? It didn’t matter to you what the gender was, just as long as you could connect with them.

You drummed your nails on the wooden surface, impatiently waiting for the results. And –

Congratulations! You have been matched with — 

[OSCAR PIASTRI, AGE 21. LONDON, UK]

A gasp trembled in the base of your throat. It was too good to hope, to think that you’d see Oscar’s familiar face reflecting back at you, but your fantasy had become real. 

Oscar made a soft noise, something similar to the rumble a seal makes. “Looks like you’re the love of my life, then,” he noted wryly.

“Are you disappointed?”

He blinked, visibly startled by the harshness of your tone. “Why would you think that?”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “You look angry. Like…you wish it were someone else.”

“I don’t,” Oscar answered simply. “I was just surprised.”

Mai Nguyen announced something, but it sounded muffled to your ears. “I – I’m sorry. If you want to, I don’t know, swap with someone else, I’m sure they could figure something out,” you faltered. 

Oscar’s eyes crinkled in confusion. “According to the matchmaking algorithm, you’re my soulmate. I’m not going to give that up.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable –”

“Please tell me you’re joking. I thought it was obvious how I felt for you, that I can’t imagine a life without you. Why would you ever think that I could?” Oscar stared at you with wide brown eyes. “You’re my best friend. I’ve spent ten years with you, and all of them, I’ve spent pining over someone I thought was unachievable. It was about time that we figured our feelings out.”

You grinned. “Thank god for dating algorithms.”

“And don’t forget the catalyst: Lando’s impatience over the fact that I haven’t had a girlfriend yet.”

TWO MONTHS LATER

The light from the Milan skyline was dazzling as you walked side-by-side with Oscar, raspberry gelato dripping from the gaps in the gauzy napkin. You hummed a soft melody to yourself, a tune you’d heard from one of the musicians who played on the streets. Usually, you had a million thoughts flying around in your mind, but for the first time in ages, you felt at peace.

Oscar interlocked his fingers with yours, rubbing a comforting circle on your skin. “Let me know when you want to head back to the hotel,” he said quietly.

Almost two months had passed since you’d gone to the matchmaking event and been paired up with Oscar. Lando wasn’t surprised to find the true meaning of your cancellation on movie night, but he still acted woundingly betrayed. At least, he reasoned, his two best friends weren’t stumbling around blind anymore. “I hate being a third wheel, but I guess it’s worth it for you two,” Lando had said, slapping Oscar on the back in celebration. “Don’t think it means I want to see you two snogging though. Get a room.”

Oscar tapped your nose to get your attention. “Everything OK, sweetheart?”

“I’m fine,” you said. “Just thinking. About everything, about us.”

“Having second thoughts?”

You furiously shook your head. “How could I? You’re the best boyfriend in the world.”

Oscar laughed, a clear chortle in the crisp air. “I’m glad to hear it.”

You walked further, through the winding streets. A little shop was still open, with various trinkets meant to entice tourists into wasting their precious money. You knew this, but you were lured in anyway. “Can we buy a postcard for Lan?” you asked, looking up at Oscar. 

“He won’t read it,” Oscar said. 

“He will, for us. Or we can tack it up on the fridge, lively up your flat a bit.”

“Our flat is lively enough already. Lando’s a terrible hoarder.”

“Oh, please, Oscar. Just one postcard, to remember we even had this trip. Please?” you begged, putting your hands together in a supplicant manner. “You want to, you’re just denying it.”

Oscar rolled his eyes. “Fine, but only one.”

“Yay! Thank you!” 

You ran inside the shop, admiring the painted covers of the postcards. Oscar was right behind you, and you could feel the weight of his stare as you rifled through the spindly metal racks. “This one is perfect,” you said, holding up a small card with an image of the crystal-blue waters of the Mediterranean. “I love this one.”

“Good.” Oscar pecked a kiss on your cheek, swiping the card from you in the process. “I’ll pay.”

“Osc! Give it back!” You groaned, trying to get it back without any success. “Thank you. Even though I was going to pay for it myself,” you grumbled under your breath.

“Never say I don’t love you,” Oscar joked, kissing you again. “Because I do.”

You smirked. “I’ve successfully brainwashed you.”

“Mmm, or I’m right where I want to be. In Italy, with the love of my life, with nothing but hopes and dreams before me,” Oscar commented.

You tugged at his shirt. “How poetic.”

“Didn’t you say you liked men who were witty and handsome? I’ve got to make sure I fulfill those qualities, don’t I?” he acknowledged. 

“That’s true.” You huffed out a breath. “But I’d love you even if you weren’t. Because you’re my soulmate.”

“Ah, how romantic.” Oscar flashed you a cheeky grin. 

And at that precise moment, you were positive that you’d never felt more elated in your life.

When Sparrow and Rebecca first bought their house, Lark took out some of the bedroom locks—last thing they wanted was for an incursion to happen near the house and for toddler Hero to have locked the door.

Rebecca then argued none of their doors should have locks, if they were to do that. This led to Sparrow making, what he called, privacy signs to hang up on the doors to let others know they didn’t want to be disturbed.