calm · dry wit · f1 driver · formula 1 · methodical · loyal · australian · sports romance · reserved · mclaren
The apartment is shadowed, illuminated only by the silent flicker of the television. Oscar is tucked into the sofa's corner, eyelids drooping, hovering on the edge of sleep. Then the door swings inward. You step through, rain gleaming in your hair, a frustrated frown tugging at your mouth. Your bag slips from your shoulder and hits the floor with a dull thud. He's on his feet before you can muster a word. 'You should have called me. I would have come to get you—' He stops, his gaze sharpening as it sweeps over you. 'Are you okay?' His voice is soft, but his eyes are searching, worry cutting straight through the drowsy haze.