Chapter Text
Oscar Piastri had never believed in fate—not really. But as he gripped the wheel, the world around him spinning in a blur of tarmac and deafening roars, he couldn't help but feel like this was some kind of cosmic punishment. The pit in his stomach gnawed as he pushed harder, the adrenaline fuelling him like fire in his veins. Somewhere up ahead, Logan was just a few corners away, his car dancing effortlessly along the asphalt, smooth and graceful as always.
Logan Sargeant—his best friend, the one person on the grid who could match him in banter, who knew him better than anyone else. The same Logan he'd been secretly in love with for the past year. Oscar could never say it aloud, not when their friendship meant everything. Not when they were teammates once and rivals now. But sometimes, when they weren't surrounded by flashing cameras or the hum of engines, Logan's easy laughter, the way he'd lean in just a little too close when they talked, made Oscar wonder if maybe Logan felt something too.
But Oscar never dared to ask.
And now, as he approached the final corner, the sight of Logan's car up ahead brought a familiar ache to his chest—one he'd grown used to, even if it twisted a little deeper every time.The world tilted.
It happened in an instant. Logan's car suddenly skidded, jerking sideways in a violent twist of metal and screeching tires. Oscar's foot instinctively lifted off the throttle as the scene unfolded in front of him like a nightmare—Logan's car spinning out of control, smashing into the barrier in a cacophony of grinding carbon fibre and crunching metal.
A sickening silence followed.
For a split second, everything in Oscar froze. His heart pounded so hard it drowned out the noise around him, the sounds from the grandstands fading into static. All he could focus on was the crumpled wreck of Logan's car, smoke billowing out as the marshals rushed towards it.
"Logan..." he whispered, his voice shaky, though no one could hear him over the team radio.
"Oscar, you're clear," came his engineer's voice in his ear, oblivious to the growing dread inside him. "Keep focus, finish strong."
Oscar couldn't. He crossed the line, but the usual rush of victory didn't come. It felt hollow, wrong. His grip tightened around the steering wheel as he stared at the crash site. No word. No response. No familiar voice crackling through his earpiece, making some lighthearted joke about how stupid that spin was. Just silence.
He'd thought about losing Logan before—losing him to a different division, losing him to the distractions of fame, maybe even losing him to someone else who could actually be brave enough to tell him how they felt. But this...this was something he couldn't bear. Oscar swallowed thickly, trying to focus, trying to breathe, but the only thought running through his mind was I never told him.
--
Oscar was out of the car before the engine had fully shut down, ripping off his helmet and tossing it to the side as he sprinted towards the paddock. His team shouted after him, but their voices were muffled, distant. All he could see was Logan's car—a mangled wreck that still smoked in the gravel trap. Emergency vehicles surrounded it, and the pit in Oscar's stomach only grew deeper with every second that passed.
He shoved through the crowd, heart pounding, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps as he scanned the faces of the marshals and medical staff. Where was Logan? He should be standing there, waving them off, smiling like he always did after a crash, brushing it off as if it was nothing.
But he wasn't.
Oscar's chest tightened, his fingers curling into fists at his sides as he fought the rising panic. Every second felt like an eternity. He strained to hear anything—any update over the radio, any sign that Logan was okay—but the silence was suffocating.
His mind raced back to every moment they'd shared, each laugh, each ridiculous inside joke, each time Logan had casually thrown his arm around Oscar's shoulders, completely unaware of the effect it had on him. Oscar had spent so long pretending that his feelings didn't matter, that Logan didn't need to know. It had been easier that way, or at least that's what he'd told himself. They were friends—best friends—and Oscar had convinced himself that was enough.
But now... What if that's all we ever were?
The thought hit him like a punch to the gut.
"Oscar." A voice pulled him from his spiral—his engineer, Paul, had caught up to him, his expression a mix of worry and confusion. "You can't be here. Come on, we'll get an update soon."
"I need to see him," Oscar muttered, his voice strained as he tried to push past Paul. "I need to know he's okay."
"Oscar, listen to me." Paul's grip tightened on his arm, and for the first time, Oscar felt how badly his hands were shaking. "We don't know anything yet. Let the medics do their job."
Oscar's legs felt like lead, but he nodded, knowing Paul was right. Still, the waiting—the not knowing—was unbearable. He could feel the stares of the media, the team, the other drivers, all of them watching, waiting for news. He wanted to scream, to rip through the barriers and get to Logan himself, but all he could do was stand there, frozen in place as time seemed to stretch on endlessly.
Then, finally, the medics emerged from the crash site, carrying a stretcher between them.Oscar's heart dropped.
There was Logan, strapped down, oxygen mask over his face, his skin pale beneath the blood and bruises. His eyes were closed, body still, and for a brief moment, Oscar's world stopped. His breath caught in his throat, and the ground seemed to give way beneath him.
No, no, no... This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. He was supposed to have more time. He was supposed to tell Logan, to stop pretending that these feelings were something he could ignore.
His knees nearly buckled, but he forced himself to stay upright, his eyes fixed on Logan as they loaded him into the ambulance. I never told him.
He barely registered Paul's hand on his shoulder, or the quiet voices of the medics as they reassured the team that Logan was alive. Alive—but hurt. How badly? They wouldn't know until the hospital.
Oscar's heart raced, his chest tight with emotions that tangled in a chaotic storm of fear, guilt, and regret. How many times had he been close to saying it? How many times had he brushed off the ache in his chest when Logan laughed, when he threw an arm around him like it meant nothing? Now, there might never be a chance. He might never get to tell Logan how he felt, and the weight of that realisation hit him harder than any race he'd ever driven.
"I'm going to the hospital," Oscar said, his voice rough, almost choking on the words. Paul opened his mouth to protest, but Oscar didn't wait for a response. He didn't care about the post-race debriefs, the press, or even the win. None of it mattered.
All that mattered was Logan.
---
Oscar sat in the waiting room of the hospital, his hands clasped tightly in front of him. The sterile smell of antiseptic stung his nose, and the fluorescent lights above buzzed quietly, filling the silence with an eerie hum. He stared at the floor, every second ticking by a reminder that Logan was just a few doors away—unconscious, hurt—and Oscar had no idea if he would wake up.
The hospital staff had been kind but vague, telling him Logan was stable but unconscious, that they were running tests, that he should prepare for a long recovery. The words had washed over him, barely sinking in as he fought to keep his mind from spiralling.
He ran his hands through his hair, tugging at the roots in frustration. How had it come to this? How had he let himself get here, sitting in a cold hospital waiting room, praying that the one person who mattered most in his life would wake up?
Logan was always the one taking the risks, laughing in the face of danger, but this was different. This wasn't some stupid joke or reckless stunt. This was real—too real—and Oscar wasn't sure how to handle the weight of it.
The door creaked open, and a nurse stepped in, offering a soft smile. "He's stable. You can see him now, but only for a few minutes."
Oscar nodded, the relief overwhelming but short-lived as he stood up and followed her down the hall. He wasn't sure what he'd say, or how he'd face Logan in this state, but one thing was clear in his mind—he wasn't going to lose him without a fight.