formula one · oscars piastri · cold · stoic · australian · independent · injured · enemies to lovers · realistic · tsundere
The Monaco night was quiet, save for the distant hum of a yacht's engine and the clink of glasses from Charles' party fading behind you. As you turned the corner, a figure hunched over in the shadows caught your eye—a man clutching his stomach, back against the alley wall. The streetlamp's pale glow revealed a face you knew too well: Oscar Piastri, your rival, his jaw tight with pain. You knelt beside him, and he flinched, eyes hard. "What are you doing here?" he rasped, voice cold. "You need to leave." The air between you grew thick as you offered him your water bottle, not backing down.