◟ ⌗ wrong timing . . !
❝ wrong timing ❞ — oscar piastri x fem!reader
before formula one, he was just oscar. the person you knew before the fame, the cameras, and the world watching him. you loved him through every dream he chased, but sometimes loving someone means realizing you can’t keep waiting forever.
warnings : angst, slow burn, mutual pining, friends to almost lovers, emotional miscommunication, career over relationship, bittersweet ending, lots of yearning, right person wrong time, use of y/n, not proofread
word count: 4,5k , masterlist , a/n : hii first oscar fic :))
before oscar piastri became a formula one driver, he was just oscar. that was the thing you missed the most.
not because you didn’t love seeing him succeed. you did, more than anyone.
you watched him accomplish things you knew he was capable of long before anyone else did. you watched him prove people wrong. you watched him work harder than anyone around him.
you were proud. you were always proud.
but sometimes you missed the version of him that existed before the whole world knew his name. the version of oscar who wasn’t constantly rushing somewhere, the version who had time, the version who was yours.
you met oscar before everything changed. before the interviews and the cameras and the constant traveling, before people started recognizing him.
back then, racing was still just something he loved. something he talked about endlessly.
you remember sitting with him one afternoon while he explained something about a race you hadn’t even watched.
“so basically, i should’ve taken a different line into the corner because i lost time there.”
you blinked.
“i’m going to be honest, i understood maybe three words of that.”
he looked offended.
“three?”
“maybe four.”
he rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.
“you’re impossible.”
“and yet you’re still explaining racing to me.”
“because you asked.”
you laughed.
“i asked what happened. i didn’t ask for a whole analysis.”
“same thing.”
“it really isn’t.”
and he laughed. a real laugh.
the kind you didn’t hear from him around everyone else.
that was the thing about oscar.
he wasn’t the loudest person in the room. he wasn’t the person trying to get attention.
but with you? he was different. he talked more. he joked more. he let himself relax.
you were the person he came to after bad days. the person he celebrated with after good ones. you were the person who knew him before he became someone everyone else cared about.
you always knew he was going to make it, everyone else saw potential but you saw determination. you saw the nights he stayed up thinking about how he could improve. you saw how badly he wanted it and maybe that was why you never questioned his dream.
even when it started taking up more and more of his life. because you loved him enough to understand. at least, you thought you did.
when he got the opportunity that would eventually lead him toward formula one, you were the first person he told.
you remember exactly where you were, you remember the way your phone lit up with his name, you remember smiling before you even answered.
because oscar didn’t call unless something happened.
“hi?”
“guess what.”
you could immediately hear it. the excitement. the nervousness.
the way he was trying not to sound too happy just in case.
“what?”
there was a pause.
“i got the opportunity.”
you sat up.
“oscar.”
he laughed quietly.
“i know.”
“wait.”
you could feel yourself smiling.
“are you serious?”
“yeah.”
“you’re actually going to do this.”
“hopefully.”
“no.”
you shook your head even though he couldn’t see you.
“you are.”
he was quiet.
“you really think that?”
and that question told you everything.
because underneath all the confidence, underneath all the talent, there was still a part of oscar that wondered if he was enough.
“i know that.”
another pause.
then,
“i wanted you to be the first person i told.”
and maybe that was the moment you started believing you would always be the person he came back to.
because at the time…
you were.
at first, the change wasn’t obvious.
he was busier.. obviously. you knew that.
you weren’t expecting him to have unlimited time anymore. you knew his schedule was crazy.
but he still tried.
he would message you when he got a chance.
sometimes it was late at night, sometimes it was only a few minutes.
but it mattered. because even a small message from oscar felt like proof that you were still important.
“landed.”
“training went well.”
“wish you were here, the food is terrible.”
you would laugh at those messages, then you would reply immediately.
because you missed him. but you didn’t want to admit that.
not even to yourself.
then formula one got closer.
and suddenly everything became bigger.
the pressure, the expectations, the amount of people watching him.
and oscar changed. not in a bad way.
that was the hardest part.
if he had become cruel, maybe it would have been easier. if he had stopped caring completely, maybe you could’ve hated him.
but he didn’t. he still cared.
he just didn’t have time. and somehow, that hurt more.
because you couldn’t even be angry.
you couldn’t say
“you’re hurting me.”
because he wasn’t trying to.
you couldn’t say
“choose me.”
because you would never ask him to give up the thing he worked his whole life for.
so you did the only thing you knew how to do.
you stayed.
the first time he missed something important to you, he apologized.
“i’m sorry.”
you looked down at your phone.
“it’s okay.”
“no, i mean it.”
you smiled sadly.
“oscar, it’s okay.”
and you meant it. at the time..
because one missed call wasn’t a big deal. one cancelled plan wasn’t a big deal, one forgotten conversation wasn’t a big deal.
but nobody tells you that relationships don’t usually fall apart because of one huge moment.
sometimes they disappear because of hundreds of tiny ones.
and you didn’t notice when you became someone who waited.
waited for texts, waited for calls, waited for him to have time.
because you were always convinced that eventually things would calm down.
eventually he would have a break. eventually you would get your best friend back.
you didn’t realize that while you were waiting for oscar to come back…
he was already moving further away.
you couldn’t remember when people started assuming the two of you were together.
maybe it was because oscar looked for you before anyone else. or maybe it was because the two of you had this habit of standing way too close together without realizing it.
whatever it was, neither of you ever corrected anyone.
because… honestly? it was easier not to.
“you know everyone thinks you’re dating, right?”
you looked up from your drink, raising an eyebrow at one of your friends.
“…what?”
she laughed.
“you and oscar.”
you nearly choked.
“no they don’t.”
“they absolutely do.”
“we’re just friends.”
“right,” she said, dragging the word out. “and i’m the queen of england.”
you rolled your eyes.
“seriously.”
she shrugged.
“have you seen the way he looks at you?”
before you could answer, someone called your name.
you turned.
oscar.
he was walking over, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie.
“there you are.”
you frowned.
“were you looking for me?”
“yeah.”
“why?”
he blinked.
“…because i wanted to talk to you?”
your friend snorted beside you. you shot them a glare.
oscar looked between the two of you.
“…what?”
“nothing.”
“…why are you both looking at me like that?”
“we’re not.”
“you are.”
you laughed.
“you’re imagining things.”
he narrowed his eyes.
“…i don’t think i am.”
it was always easy with him. conversation never felt forced, silence never felt awkward. sometimes you’d sit together for hours without saying much at all.
just existing in the same space.
it was enough.
one afternoon, the two of you ended up sitting on the hood of his car, watching the sunset after he’d finished training.
he looked exhausted. you nudged his shoulder.
“you okay?”
“yeah.”
“liar.”
he sighed.
“…training sucked.”
“that bad?”
“i was off all day.”
you looked over at him.
“do you wanna know what i think?”
he hummed.
“i think you’re being way harder on yourself than anyone else is.”
he smiled a little.
“probably.”
“definitely.”
“…thanks.”
“don’t mention it.”
there was a comfortable silence.
then—
“you know…”
he looked at you.
“…what?”
“when you’re famous, don’t forget about me.”
he laughed.
“famous?”
“yeah.”
“that’s your biggest concern?”
“obviously.”
he shook his head.
“i’m serious.”
“so am i.”
he looked back at the sky.
“i could never forget you.”
the words came so naturally. like they didn’t mean anything.
except…
they meant everything.
when oscar got busier, you adjusted without complaining.
instead of seeing him three or four times a week… it became once.
then once every two weeks. then whenever your schedules somehow lined up.
still… you made it work.
because he always seemed genuinely happy to see you.
“hi.”
he smiled as soon as he spotted you.
“hey.”
he wrapped you in a quick hug before pulling away.
“sorry i’m late.”
“you’re fifteen minutes early.”
“…oh.”
you laughed.
“you’ve been hanging around race engineers too much.”
he groaned.
“don’t remind me.”
“coffee?”
“please.”
you spent the next hour talking about everything and nothing. he told you stories from training.
you complained about school. he laughed at one of your terrible jokes.
for a little while… it felt normal again.
like nothing had changed. until his phone buzzed.
he glanced at the screen. his smile disappeared.
“…i have to go.”
you nodded.
“already?”
“yeah.”
he looked genuinely disappointed.
“i’m sorry.”
“it’s okay.”
“i’ll make it up to you.”
you smiled.
“i know.”
you watched him jog back to his car.
he turned around halfway there.
“hey!”
“yeah?”
“don’t forget to text me later.”
“only if you actually answer.”
he grinned.
“rude.”
then he left.
he didn’t answer.
you sent him a picture of the sunset that night.
“look what you missed.”
he hearted the message.
nothing else.
days passed. then weeks.
you tried not to think about it.
he was busy. he was always busy.
you understood. you always understood.
the first race you managed to go to after he started getting really involved with formula one felt… different.
everything was louder, bigger. more crowded.
there were cameras everywhere, people shouting his name, team members rushing around.
for a second, you wondered how he’d ever gotten used to all of this.
then you spotted him. he was talking to someone from the team, completely focused.
he looked older somehow. not physically. just… different.
more tired. more serious. like the weight of his dream was finally sitting on his shoulders.
you waited until he looked up. his eyes scanned the crowd.
and then they landed on you.
his entire expression softened. he excused himself almost immediately and walked over.
“you came.”
you smiled.
“i said i would.”
“i wasn’t sure you’d be able to.”
“i wasn’t missing this.”
for a second, neither of you spoke.
then he pulled you into a hug. it only lasted a few seconds.
but it felt familiar.
safe.
“…i missed you,” he mumbled quietly.
your heart nearly stopped.
“i missed you too.”
he pulled away, smiling.
“after the race?”
“yeah?”
“wait for me.”
you nodded.
“always.”
he smiled one more time before someone called his name.
“oscar!”
he sighed dramatically.
“duty calls.”
“go.”
“don’t leave.”
“…i won’t.”
he pointed at you jokingly.
“promise?”
“promise.”
“okay.”
then he ran back toward the garage.
you kept your promise. you waited.
through interviews, through celebrations, through team meetings, through people slowly leaving.
you checked your phone.
8:12.
8:47.
9:31.
10:05.
he’d forgotten. again.
you stared toward the garage one last time.
then quietly turned around. and walked away.
your phone buzzes just as you’re about to fall asleep.
you don’t even have to look at the screen.
you already know it’s him.
oscar
“u awake?”
you smile to yourself.
you
“barely”
the typing bubble appears almost instantly.
oscar
“good”
you
“????”
oscar
“i was starting to think u were ignoring me”
you let out a quiet laugh.
you
“that’s rich coming from you”
there’s a pause.
long enough that you wonder if maybe you shouldn’t have said it.
then—
oscar
“yeah.”
the smile slips from your face. you hadn’t meant it like that.
or maybe… you had.
before you can think too much about it, your phone rings.
“hello?”
“hi.”
his voice is quieter than usual. tired.
you can hear people talking in the background.
“where are you?”
“hotel.”
“it’s… what, like two in the morning over there?”
“something like that.”
“why aren’t you asleep?”
he lets out a small laugh.
“can’t.”
“why?”
“…thinking.”
“that’s never a good sign.”
“probably not.”
you pull your blanket up a little higher.
“what are you thinking about?”
there’s a few seconds of silence.
“you.”
your heart does something stupid.
“…me?”
“yeah.”
“why?”
“i don’t know.”
another pause.
“i just…”
he sighs.
“…i miss hanging out with you.”
you stare at the ceiling.
“you know we can hang out whenever you want.”
“i know.”
silence.
“you’re the one who’s busy.”
he doesn’t answer. instead, you hear him exhale softly.
“…i know.”
it’s so quiet you almost don’t catch it.
“i’m trying.”
you close your eyes.
“i know you are.”
“doesn’t really seem like it lately.”
“oscar…”
“no, i mean it.”
his voice sounds frustrated now.
“every time i think i’m finally getting a break, something else comes up.”
“you don’t have to explain.”
“i do.”
“you really don’t.”
another silence.
“…are you mad at me?”
the question catches you off guard.
“what?”
“are you?“
“..no.”
he doesn’t say anything.
“i’m not mad.”
“then what are you?”
you swallow.
“…i just miss you.”
it’s barely above a whisper. the line goes quiet.
you almost think the call dropped.
then—
“…i miss you too.”
he sounds so genuine that it almost hurts. because you believe him.
that’s the problem. you believe him every single time.
two weeks later, he asks you to meet him for coffee. it’s the first time you’ve seen him in almost a month.
he’s already sitting outside when you get there, sunglasses resting on top of his head, scrolling through his phone.
he looks up the second he hears your footsteps.
and smiles.
there it is.that stupid smile. the one that still makes your chest ache.
“hey.”
“hey.”
he stands up immediately. before you can say anything, he pulls you into a hug.
it’s familiar. warm.
you can feel him relax a little.
“…hi,” you mumble into his hoodie.
“hi.”
neither of you moves for another few seconds.
finally, you pull away.
“you’re getting clingy.”
he shrugs.
“maybe.”
“that’s new.”
“don’t get used to it.”
you roll your eyes.
“there he is.”
he laughs.
“i missed you.”
“you said that on the phone.”
“i know.”
“…i still mean it.”
you look away before he notices the smile tugging at your lips.
“you’re annoying.”
“you like me.”
“…unfortunately.”
“that’s all i needed.”
after ordering your drinks, you end up sitting outside.
it’s nice. comfortable.
for the first time in weeks, it feels like nothing has changed.
he reaches over without asking and steals your drink.
you stare at him.
“…did you seriously just drink my coffee?”
he blinks.
“…yes?”
“oscar.”
“what?”
“you have your own.”
“yours is better.”
“because yours tastes like burnt dirt.”
“it’s black coffee.”
“exactly.”
he takes another sip. you shove his shoulder.
“you’re unbelievable.”
“thank you.”
“that wasn’t a compliment.”
“i’ll take it anyway.”
you can’t help but laugh.
god.
you missed this. you missed him.
“so,” he says, leaning back in his chair.
“how’s school?”
“boring.”
“that’s it?”
“that’s the summary.”
he nods.
“fair.”
“how’s work?”
he groans dramatically.
“don’t ask.”
“that bad?”
“i think i’ve spent more time in airports than my own apartment.”
“that’s… actually kind of sad.”
“yeah.”
“when’s the last time you slept in your own bed?”
he thinks for a second.
“…don’t know.”
“oscar.”
“what?”
“that’s not healthy.”
he shrugs.
“comes with the job.”
“doesn’t mean i have to like it.”
he looks at you. really looks at you.
“…you worry too much.”
“someone has to.”
he smiles.
“…thanks.”
before you can answer his phone starts ringing. he glances at the screen.
his shoulders immediately tense. you already know who it is.
“don’t,” you say quietly.
he looks up.
“what?”
“don’t apologize.”
“just answer it.”
he doesn’t move.
“i can ignore it.”
“no.”
“i want to stay.”
“i know.”
“but if you don’t answer, you’re just going to spend the next hour wondering why they called.”
he sighs.
“…you know me too well.”
“i do.”
he stands.
“five minutes.”
you smile.
“take your time.”
he points at you.
“don’t disappear.”
you laugh.
“where would i go?”
he grins.
“good.”
then he walks away, phone pressed to his ear. you watch him disappear around the corner.
five minutes pass. then ten. then twenty.
your coffee is cold. you check your phone.
no messages.
you look toward the corner again.
he still isn’t back.
and despite everything. despite every promise, despite every “i’ll only be a minute”…
you stay.
because maybe this time…
he really will come back.
by the time oscar hangs up the phone, the sun’s already started to set. he rubs a hand over his face before looking back toward the patio.
“…shit.”
it definitely hadn’t been five minutes. he knows that. he doesn’t even bother checking the time.
he’s already reaching for his phone, already typing.
“i’m coming back rn”
he rounds the corner with a guilty smile already on his face.
“i’m so-”
the words die in his throat.
your chair is empty. your drink is still sitting on the table.
half full. melted ice floating at the top.
he blinks.
he looks around the café.
inside, outside, by the sidewalk.
you’re nowhere.
his stomach drops. he pulls his phone out again.
no new messages.
he scrolls up. the last thing you’d sent him was almost forty minutes ago.
“don’t rush. i’ll still be here :)”
he stares at it for a long second.
then presses call. straight to voicemail.
“…come on.”
he tries again.
voicemail.
again.
voicemail.
he sits back down in the chair across from yours. the one he’d left you sitting in.
your straw wrapper is still folded into that weird little star you’d taught him how to make years ago.
he picks it up and turns it over in his hands.
“…damn it.”
you don’t answer until almost ten that night.
his phone lights up while he’s brushing his teeth.
you
“sorry i was driving”
he calls immediately. you answer after the second ring.
“…hi.”
“where’d you go?”
you lean your head back against the couch.
“home.”
“i know that.”
“then why’d you ask?”
…
“oscar?”
“you left.”
you let out a quiet laugh. not because anything was funny. because you didn’t know what else to do.
“yeah.”
“why?”
you stare at the ceiling.
“how long did you wait?”
…
you close your eyes.
“an hour. maybe a little more.. i figured you got busy.”
“i did.”
“i know.”
“i couldn’t just hang up.”
“i know.”
“then why’d you leave?”
you finally sit up. because that question annoys you more than it should.
“you asked me not to disappear?”
“yeah.”
“but you disappeared first.”
the line goes completely silent. you don’t mean for it to come out so harsh. but you can’t take it back now.
“…i’m sorry.”
“i know.”
“i really am.”
“i know.”
“y/n-”
“it’s okay.”
“it’s not.”
“it’s happened before.”
“…what?”
“it’s happened before.”
your voice stays calm. too calm.
“this wasn’t the first time.”
he doesn’t answer. because he knows.
you’ve waited outside garages, you’ve waited after races, you’ve waited through interviews. team meetings, sponsor events.
you’ve always waited and every single time he’d assumed you’d understand.
“…i didn’t think…”
“i know.”
“…i just thought.. you’d still be there.”
your chest tightens. because that’s exactly it. he thought. he never asked.
he just… expected.
you laugh quietly again. this time he hears how tired it sounds.
“i was. i always was.”
after that call, things don’t exactly change.
they just become… quieter.
you stop texting first.
every time you pick up your phone, you wonder if you’re interrupting him.
so eventually… you don’t.
oscar notices after four days. which, honestly, surprises him.
he’s sitting in the hotel after media day when he opens your chat.
nothing.
no random pictures, no stupid memes, no updates about your day.
nothing.
he scrolls up. he’s the last person who texted.
read. nothing else.
he frowns.
then types.
“u alive?”
you don’t answer for three hours.
when you do… it’s one sentence.
“sorry, i was out”
that’s it.
no smiley face, no teasing him for asking, no “how was your day?”
he stares at the message.
something feels… off.
the next race weekend arrives.
he’s nervous. he always is.
but this time.. he’s excited too.
because you told him you’d be there.
he’d even gotten you paddock passes.
he keeps checking the entrance between meetings. not yet.
he checks again after qualifying. still nothing.
“who’re you looking for?”
lando bumps his shoulder while grabbing a water bottle.
“oscar?”
“…huh?”
“you’ve looked at that gate like six times.”
“…have i?”
“yes.”
lando follows his gaze.
“waiting for someone?”
“…maybe.”
“your mystery person?”
oscar rolls his eyes.
“shut up.”
lando grins.
“they’re not coming, are they?”
“…i don’t know.”
for the first time…
he genuinely doesn’t know.
and somehow.. that thought scares him more than qualifying ever could.
you almost don’t go.
the paddock pass sits on your kitchen counter all morning.
you’d promised him. he’d promised you, too.
look how that turned out.
your phone buzzes.
oscar
“today’s the day :)”
another message comes through a few seconds later.
“don’t disappear this time”
you stare at the screen.
then type back.
“i’ll be there”
the race is good. better than good. he drives like he’s got something to prove.
every overtake is clean. every lap is faster than the last.
when the chequered flag falls, the crowd erupts. you find yourself cheering with everyone else.
because no matter how much your heart hurts… you’ll always be proud of him.
always.
you watch him climb out of the car. he pulls off his helmet, smiling wider than you’ve seen in months. his eyes immediately scan the crowd.
looking. searching. for you.
you wave. he spots you almost instantly.
even from where you’re standing, you can see him smile.
he points at you, then he disappears into the celebrations.
you wait. again.
you tell yourself it’ll be different this time.
he saw you, he asked you to stay, he won’t forget.
an interview turns into another interview.
then photos, then the team celebration, then sponsors.
you check your phone.
no messages.
thirty minutes. forty-five. an hour.
you look toward the garage. everyone’s still busy.
you sigh.
“…of course.”
you don’t cry. you don’t get angry.
you’re just… tired.
you pull your phone out.
you
“congratulations. i’m really proud of you.”
you hesitate. then add one more message.
“i have to go. i’ll see you around, okay?”
you press send and leave.
oscar doesn’t see the messages until almost two hours later.
he’s finally alone.
everyone’s gone home. the garage is quiet.
he unlocks his phone. his smile fades.
“…no.”
he calls.
once. twice. three times.
no answer.
he doesn’t think. he grabs his keys.
you hear the knock just after ten. you already know who it is.
you open the door.
he’s standing there in his team kit, hair still messy from the race.
he looks exhausted.
“…hi.”
“hi.”
neither of you moves.
finally, he speaks.
“why’d you leave?”
you let out a small laugh.
“…really?”
he frowns.
“what?”
“you’re asking me why i left?”
“…yeah.”
you look at him for a long second.
“how long did you expect me to wait this time?”
his shoulders drop.
“an hour?”
…
“two?”
…
“the whole night?”
“i got caught up.”
“i know.”
“i couldn’t leave.”
“i know.”
“i wanted to.”
“i know, oscar.”
your voice never gets louder.
if anything… it gets quieter. and somehow that hurts him more.
“i know.”
he runs a hand through his hair.
“i don’t know what you want me to say.”
you shake your head.
“nothing.”
“there has to be something.”
“there isn’t.”
“please.”
his voice cracks.
“don’t do that.”
“do what?”
“look at me like you’ve already given up.”
you swallow.
“…because i have.”
the words knock the air out of him.
“…no.”
“i’m tired.”
“i’ll do better.”
you smile sadly.
“i know you’ll try.”
“i mean it.”
“i know.”
“then why are you saying it like that?”
“because i’ve heard it before.”
silence.
you step outside, closing the door behind you.
the night is quiet.
for a while, neither of you says anything.
finally…
you speak.
“do you remember when you asked me not to forget you when you got famous?”
he laughs softly through his nose.
“…yeah.”
“you told me you never could.”
he nods.
“i meant it.”
“i know.”
“i still mean it.”
you look at him.
“that’s the problem.”
he frowns.
“what?”
“you never stopped caring.”
…
“you just stopped making time.”
his eyes fill with something you’ve never seen before.
regret. real, overwhelming regret.
“i didn’t realize…”
“i know.”
“i thought…”
he stops himself. you finish the sentence for him.
“…that i’d always be there?”
he doesn’t answer. because it’s true.
he always thought there would be another coffee.
another phone call. another race. another chance.
he’d never imagined there’d be a last one.
“i loved you.”
the words leave his mouth so quietly you almost miss them.
your heart stops.
“…what?”
he laughs bitterly.
“i’m pretty sure i’ve loved you for years.”
you close your eyes.
“…oscar.”
“i just…”
he wipes at his face, frustrated.
“i kept thinking i’d tell you when things slowed down.”
you feel tears burning your eyes.
“i know.”
“and they never did.”
“i know.”
“i’m sorry.”
you nod.
“i know.”
he lets out a shaky breath.
“…did you?”
you smile through the tears.
“yeah.”
“…yeah.”
another silence. this one hurts the most. because now everything is out in the open. and it doesn’t change anything.
after a while, you step closer. you wrap your arms around him. he hugs you back immediately.
like he’s afraid that if he lets go… he’ll lose you forever. maybe he already has.
when you pull away, you reach up and fix the collar of his jacket. just like you always do.
he smiles through watery eyes.
“still taking care of me.”
“it’s a habit.”
“…can i ask you something?”
“okay.”
“if things were different…”
you don’t let him finish.
“they’re not.”
his shoulders fall.
“…right.”
you nod.
“you got everything you ever dreamed of.”
he looks at you.
“not everything.”
your chest aches.
“maybe.”
you take one small step backwards.
“but i think we were always meant to happen before formula one.”
he doesn’t try to stop you. maybe because he knows he can’t. or maybe because, for the first time…
he understands.
“goodbye, oscar.”
“…goodbye.”
months pass. life moves on.
it has to.
sometimes you’ll catch a race on tv. sometimes you’ll see another interview. another podium. another trophy.
every time he wins, he still looks into the crowd for just a second.
old habits die hard. and every time you see it… you wonder if some part of him is still hoping.
you smile, quietly. because despite everything… you never stopped loving him. you just stopped waiting.
sometimes, love isn’t enough. sometimes, timing ruins everything.
and maybe… he was always the right person.
just at the wrong time.