Chapter Text
I’ve spent most of my high school days invisible. Weaving through the crowd with ease. Never shifting the air enough to grab someone’s attention.
Over time, I’d convinced myself that I was okay with that. That I preferred to be ignored. That the silence was better than the noise. And for a while, it was.
I’m the river around the rocks of my school; the jocks, the cheerleaders, the nerds… you get the point. Slipping in and out of hallways, rooms, auditoriums…
We all sport the same uniform, but we couldn’t be any more different. And me? I’m the most different amongst the different.
Like I said before, I was okay with the silence. That was until it got a lot louder than the noise my peers provided. Because in the silence, all there is are my thoughts.
I should warn you all now. I’m a bit of a head case. I imagine conversations and scenarios in my mind pretty frequently. I often find trouble differentiating between real life and the figments of my imagination.
You know that feeling when you wake up from a really vivid dream where you were arguing with your boyfriend; so naturally you wake up a little bit irritated with him but you can’t explain why?
Yeah. I live there.
So imagine my surprise when he says “Hello.” Right in the middle of the hallway. In between classes. In front of everyone.
“He” as in Oscar Piastri.
Love of my life. Except he doesn’t know it yet.
“Lando, right?”
My brain doesn’t seem to be working at the moment. Which in turn means my mouth isn’t working because all I can get out is…
“Uhhh..”
Oscar Piastri. Fluffy brown hair. Beautiful brown eyes that are staring right at me.
The most beautiful person I’ve ever seen and all I can get out is “uhhh.”
Honestly, I wish this was my imagination. But I’m not that lucky.
Oscar laughs. Not loudly. Not meanly either, which somehow makes it worse. Or better. Definitely worse.
Jesus Christ, he has nice eyes.
“Are you coming to the Shut In?”
Right… The fucking Shut In. Also known as my worst nightmare.
To everyone else, the Shut In is this senior year ritual where all the graduates come together and spend the night in the school.
I could get into the stupidity of spending the night in a boarding school, but I don’t have the time to write an essay. Not when he’s still staring at me. Waiting for me to speak.
“Uh, maybe. I dunno.”
Good. I remembered how to communicate.
The initial shock of trading words with Oscar must be wearing off because, wait-
How the hell does Oscar Piastri know who I am?
Before I can obsess over that question, Oscar responds.
“Cool. Well I hope you do come. It should be fun.”
Fun. Right. Because nothing screams “fun” like being trapped overnight in a school I already despise with hormonal teenagers and approximately six hundred opportunities to embarrass myself in front of Oscar Piastri.
Before I can come up with another genius reply — because apparently I’m full of them — someone calls Oscar down the hall.
He turns towards the voice and acknowledges them with a wave.
Turning back to me one last time, he gives me his signature Piastri smile. Showing off his absolutely adorable bunny teeth and crinkling his nose slightly.
I would actually be willing to write an essay about how perfect his smile is. And if anyone has anything bad to say, I’d fight them. Not that I know how, but for Oscar, I’d figure it out.
Oscar turns, leaving me with my not-so-silent thoughts again. Thoughts that will most definitely be reliving that whole conversation over and over again.
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Now that you know that I
- Can’t get out of my own head.
and
2. Can’t stop obsessing over the most popular student in Hailbury.
You should pretty much gauge how much of a loser I am. I’m not pretending to be otherwise. That would be stupid.
I just think it’s safe to let you lot know now that I have zero chill when it comes to anything. Like at all.
I don’t involve myself in conversations frequently, but when I do, I can never seem to activate that “filter” thing I hear people talking about. When I’m not stumbling over my words (which only seems to happen around Oscar apparently) I’m saying whatever the hell comes to my head.
I have a tendency to catch people off guard. So after years and years of failed friendships, relationships, and one embarrassing attempt at a situationship, I’ve opted for the “shut the hell up" option.
An option that I was okay with choosing because the alternative meant a whole bunch of embarrassing conversations and scenarios.
Besides… you only have to tell me that I’m “the worst fucking person” you ever dated once. I know how to make a correction.
So for the most part, it’s me and my music.
Oh… and Max. My only friend.
Whoever told you that you need multiple friends was wrong. One good friend can carry you through.
And I’m 100% not saying that because I can’t seem to make another one aside from Max.
But back to the music bit: I want to be a DJ when I graduate. I’ve always understood the art of making people feel things through music. Mostly because it helps me feel things. Or more specifically, control those feelings.
So here I am, in Hailbury boarding school, walking down the hallway blasting ‘Lover, You Should’ve Come Over’ in my wired earbuds because Oscar Piastri came over to talk to me.
After I calm my pulse, I’m sure the butterflies in my stomach are going to go mad.