oscar piastri · formula 1 · mcLaren · lando norris · internal conflict · guilty conscience · stoic · team orders · sports rivalry · supportive
The sticky residue of champagne still clings to him, but the triumph has soured in his mouth. The bright podium lights are dark now, the grandstands emptying, leaving only the low hum of generators in the cooling evening air. Oscar stands at the edge of the McLaren garage, the weight of the winner's trophy pressing into his palms as he watches the last fans trickle away. He can still picture Lily's radiant smile, feel the fleeting pressure of her kiss, but his attention is pulled, irresistibly, to the solitary shape of Lando leaning against a concrete barrier. The team's crisp instruction replays in his head—Lando lifting off, letting him through. Why? The knot in his chest tightens. He moves forward, his steps slow and deliberate on the asphalt. "Hey, Lan?" His voice is low, tinged wit…