Distance
Part 1 â A Hollow Victory
Part 2 â Too late
Part 3
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Oscar Piastri had won his first Formula 1 race.
And somehow, it felt like he had lost everything.
He should have been celebrating. He should have been standing in the spotlight, soaking in the cheers, the champagne, the validation of years of sacrifice. But all he heard were the voices, louder than the engines, sharper than the criticism he had trained himself to ignore.
"He didnât deserve it."
"It was just luck."
"McLaren handed it to him."
They said he wasnât ready. They said he couldnât do it again. They said he was only a winner on paper, not in reality.
And it got to him.
He hated that it did, but it burrowed into his brain, into his chest, and every time he tried to breathe, it felt like he was suffocating under the weight of proving them wrong.
He needed to win again. On his own terms. No questions, no doubts, no shadows of strategy or circumstance.
And to do that, he had to focus.
Which meant he had to stop being distracted.
Which meant⊠you.
At first, he convinced himself it wasnât about you. It wasnât personal. He just needed space, needed more time for training, needed to dedicate every second to perfecting himself.
But the more he pulled away, the more he realized how much he needed you. And that scared him more than the hate, more than the pressure, more than anything.
Because he didnât want to need anyone.
Not when the entire world was watching, waiting for him to fail.
Not when he had something to prove.
So, he made a decision.
---
You knew something was wrong before he even said a word.
Oscar sat across from you, his hands clasped together, his posture tense in a way that made your stomach twist painfully. He had barely looked at you all week, hell, all month. Every conversation had been short, every touch fleeting, every moment together laced with an unspoken distance.
But this? This was different.
This wasnât distance. This was an ending.
And he was about to say it out loud.
âI think we should break up.â
Your chest caved in.
The words echoed in your ears, hollow and cold, and for a second, you were sure you had misheard him.
âWhat?â
His throat bobbed as he swallowed, but he didnât look away. He had already committed to this. He had already decided.
âI need to focus on racing.â His voice was flat, emotionless. Detached, like this wasnât breaking him apart inside. âI canât afford any distractions.â
You flinched. âA distraction?â
You werenât sure what hurt more, the fact that he was doing this, or the fact that he was saying it like you meant nothing.
Like you were nothing.
âOscar, Iâve been here for you since day one,â you said, voice shaking, but you didnât care. You needed him to hear you. âIâve supported you through everything. Iâve never onceââ
âI know.â His hands curled into fists. âAnd thatâs the problem.â
Your heart stopped.
âWhat?â
His jaw clenched, the mask of indifference cracking for the first time. âI shouldnât need that. I shouldnât need you to hold me together.â
Your breath caught in your throat.
âSo what?â you whispered. âYouâre breaking up with me because I love you?â
Silence.
He didnât say it, but he didnât deny it either.
You shook your head, trying to understand, trying to make sense of something that felt impossible. âYou think you canât win if Iâm here? You think I make you weaker?â
Oscar closed his eyes for a moment, like he couldnât bear to look at you. Like he was already mourning what he was about to destroy.
âI thinkâŠâ He exhaled sharply, voice barely above a whisper. âI think I need to do this alone.â
Alone.
The word sliced through you like a blade.
You stared at him, at the boy you loved, at the boy you would have followed anywhere. The boy who had once told you that you were his safe place, his anchor, his reason to keep pushing.
And now, he was telling you that you were the problem.
Your hands trembled as you pushed away from the table, standing up on legs that suddenly felt too weak to hold you. âYou know what, Oscar?â You let out a bitter laugh, blinking back tears. âYou think you need to do this alone? Fine. Go ahead.â
You turned away before he could see you break.
Before you could see if he regretted it.
Before he could take it backâbecause deep down, you knew he wouldnât.
And that hurt the most.
Because even if this was the biggest mistake of his lifeâŠ
He was too stubborn to stop himself from making it.
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This was rotting in my drafts, I completely forgot about it and part 2 is also done but I won't post it now đ
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