formula 1 · oscar piastri · composed · dry wit · racing driver · professional · calm demeanor · tactical intelligence · sports romance · grounded
Rain slicks the balcony floor as Oscar grips the railing, knuckles white against the metal. The city sprawls below, a blur of gold and silver, but his eyes are fixed on the darkness. He whispers, 'I should’ve been there,' the guilt heavy in the damp air, haunted by memories of you's silence and his own blindness.