Chapter Text
Day 1 - Oscar
The stairs seemed to go on forever. Oscar only had 4 floors to go up, but with a mix of jet-lag and muscles that felt like jello, it felt like he was climbing up the Empire State Building on a ladder with no limbs.
He had flown halfway across the world to Monaco from his homeland Australia, and he was greeted with a "Out of order" sign on the elevator. Stupid country and stupid apartment building. He held out what little hope and motivation he had for his flat, simply because it had somewhere he could sleep.
After what felt like six days, he saw the number 4 from the corner of his eye on the door. He sighed with relief, and backed into the push handle.
"Ow!" the door said. His face bunched up. Didn't know doors could talk in Monaco, but here he was.
"Uh, hello?" Oscar said into the cardboard in front of him. He needed a break anyways, so he set them down against the wall.
"Mate, you bloody well hit me with the door! I really hope you're not like, a club bouncer or something. That would be a tragedy." said the man in front of him. His hand was on his head and his face looked genuinely pained. Oscar had no idea how he could have a sense of humour while being in pain.
"Oh, uh, I'm not. Sorry mate. Are you okay? Follow my finger," Oscar said in a slur.
"What?"
"Just do it."
So he did. The man didn't seem to have a head injury, probably just a bit of a bruised ego and a light headache that would go away soon enough.
"You seem fine," Oscar mumbled.
"What?" Maybe he had had a head injury. Maybe he forgot every word ever and only remembered "what".
"Your head doesn't seem that bad. It'll probably hurt for a little bit but Tylenol should help. I'm sorry, mate,"
"Alright, thanks, I guess?" Oscar turned to grab his large stack of boxes from off the floor when he stopped, "I don't know your face. Are you just moving in?"
Oscar nodded in response. The mans head tilted in what Oscar couldn't tell was curiosity, confusion, or disgust.
"That's great, lad. I'm in 420 if you need anything. Just not someone to hit with a door, knock on door 533 if you want to do that again," he said with a chuckle.
"I'm in 418. And I'll do that." all Oscar wanted to do was take a nap, he wanted this conversation to be over. He had never really been a people person, and it was for sure showing. He grabbed his boxes, for real this time, and took them down the hallway towards his new flat.
The key worked surprisingly quick (and thank goodness for that, it was hard enough to hold up a stack of boxes with two hands let alone fumble them with one), a change from his last apartment in Melbourne. That key would open Pandoras Box if it felt like it, but took up a whole timeslot of his day to just open his actual door.
The smell of cleaning products hit him before he saw anything, his vision still being blocked by the Great Wall of Cardboard. He finally wiggled in the door and dropped the boxes against the closest open wall.
The flat looked near identical to the photos he saw online, but it was still surprising to see it. It had a cozy but still spacious living room, and two doors off to his left and one straight down from him. He looked over to his right, and saw the selling point of his flat.
It had the most gorgeous kitchen. Marbled countertops, gold handles on the cabinets, and countertops so shiny he could've seen his own reflection in them. He'd love to fly his mum out someday, he knew she'd love the kitchen like she owned the place.
Oscar walked over towards the door in front of him, leading to the already furnished bedroom. He normally would've freaked out about sleeping on a bed someone else had slept on without sheets, but he was too tired to even attempt to find the ones he had packed. His head hit the mattress, and he was out.
He woke up to his phone vibrating in his pocket. Probably his sister texting him, wanting all the "deets" as she would've said. Instead, he was met with a message from an unknown number.
Unknown Number
hey
Just "hey"? Not even an introduction? It had to be a scam, Oscar thought. Somewhere deep inside him knawed at him to reply, and for some reason, he did.
Oscar Piastri
Who's this?
Unknown Number
door man
Oscar Piastri
Come again?
Unknown Number
yk, the guy you hit with the door?? i got your number from the front desk
Oscar Piastri
Interesting.
Unknown Number
yes oscar piastri, very interesting oscar piastri
Oscar Piastri
Mate, I don't even know your name.
Unknown Number
its lando
Oscar didn't reply. He just added him to his contacts, not having the energy to make a snarky comment back. He turned on do not disturb, and fell back asleep.
-
He woke in a panic, the same one he tried to escape by moving halfway across the globe. His breathing was heavy, and he could feel the sweat on his back cling to his t-shirt. It was the same nightmare he'd been having for weeks, the one he'd convinced himself he wasn't having anymore.
Clearly, he needed to convince himself a little better.
He grabbed his phone from beside him and checked the time. 9:37, it read. He couldn't even ask a friend to go out for a drink with him, or talk to his Mum. Oscar knew no one in this stupid country.
Except he did. That one person happened to be his neighbor.
With no one else to bother, he reluctantly opened his text messages and began to type.
Oscar Piastri
Sorry to bother you, are you awake?
Lando ??
yes grandpa i am awake. something i can do for you? other than let you hit me with a door of course
Oscar Piastri
Are you hungry?
Lando ??
always mate, wheres this goin
Once again, Oscar didn't reply. He just stood up from the mattress with a groan and b-lined for the door. He found himself standing outside of apartment 420. He hadn't even done anything yet, and he was already regretting his decision. As if he wasn't in control of himself, his hand lifted up to the door and knocked.
Once, twice, another time.
Lando opened the door a few seconds later with a more than confused look on his face.
"Look, I don't know anyone here and I'm too tired to grab out anything to cook with, and I also have no food in my fridge, so I'm hoping that I could use your kitchen and whatever you have in your fridge to make something. In return, you get half of whatever I make and a batch of cookies tomorrow," Oscar was rambling, and he could feel his nails starting to dig into his palms.
"I'm not gonna turn down food made for me. Knock yourself out," Lando replied, opening the door further. Oscar stepped inside, looking around.
Landos appartment looked the same as his, just inverted and looked like a bomb had gone off inside. He kept his comments to himself, as per usual, and headed towards the fridge.
It looked like a bomb had went off in there, too. He spotted a stick of butter in the door, and a carton of heavy whipping cream peaking out from behind what he told himself was a bagel. He also spotted a bag of shredded parmesan cheese in one of the drawers.
Bingo.
"You got pasta?" Oscar said, cutting through the silence he hadn't realized was there.
"Yeah, I'm not uncultured," Lando responded with a huff that resembled something close to a laugh. He shuffled past Oscar and opened up a cabinet with too many half-used pasta bags. At least it was something to work with.
"Alright mate, you can just, uh, do whatever. I won't be too long but I don't think you wanna sit here and watch me." Oscar mumbled. He felt weird telling people not to watch him, but he also felt weird having someone watch him.
"I kinda do wanna sit and watch you, though. Just to make sure you don't, like, stab me from behind or something," Lando snorted in reply. Oscar just shrugged, and began to work.
He'd always loved to cook and bake, and it was the only thing that would calm him down after having that nightmare. Call him a foodie or a fattie, he didn't care. It helped him and that's what mattered. Sometime when he was working on the sauce, Lando spoke up. He had been sitting across the island from Oscar, not saying anything till now. Simply observing.
"So, where are you from? I wanna guess U.K., but you don't quite have the edge," he asked. Oscar hadn't noticed it until now that Lando had a accent similar to his, but he knew for sure that it was one that came from way closer than his.
"Melbourne," Oscar responded quickly. He wasn't much of one to talk about himself, or talk in general.
"Huh. I'm from Bristol, as if my accent didn't already expose that. Came to Monaco City on a vacation once and ended up falling in love. What about you, man from Melbourne?" Lando seemed to be the exact opposite of Oscar, very chatty and always wanting to talk about himself.
"On the run from the Australian authorities," he replied through a straight face.
"Really?" Lando shot back with a little too much enthusiasm. Oscar didn't reply, just looking up at the other man while stirring his pasta sauce. "Gosh. I think I actually believe you. You're very convincing, you know?" silence seemed to be Landos enemy.
It was Oscars friend. He just nodded in agreement and went back to focusing on his meal.
Twenty minutes later, Oscar had two plates of fettuccine alfredo done up. He was pleased with what he had created with his choices. Typically, he would follow a recipe exactly to a tee, but tonight, he was too hungry and too jet-lagged to care.
He sat across from Lando at his almost comically large dining table. The Brit took a bite of the pasta and his eyes shot out. Worry flooded throughout Oscar. What a great second impression on your neighbor, give them horrible food, he thought to himself.
"Dude, this is amazing. If I hadn't asked previously I would think that you're here to open the sixth restaurant in your chain. Honest Gordan Ramsey type stuff," Lando said through bites. Oscars thoughts crumbled under his words. He had only ever cooked for his mother, or the occasional hookup that overstayed their welcome. Never had he made something for someone that was, well, neither.
"Thanks, mate," Oscar replied into his plate.
Not even five minutes after, Lando had hoovered down and finished his portion. That eased Oscars mind, knowing that he had at least enjoyed it. He was still sat at the table eating when Lando shot up from the kitchen.
"You should ask me if I'm hungry more often. Heck, every day. Just don't go cheating on me with any of the other residents here, they won't value you or your cooking like I do," he said with a chuckle. Oscar could feel his cheeks starting to get pink.
"Relax, lad. Just joking with you. Although, I will expect my cookies that were promised for me to be at my door by this time tomorrow."
Oscar let out a low chuckle, taking his plate over towards the kitchen and setting it in the open dishwasher.
"Thanks for letting me use your kitchen. And yes, those cookies will be here tomorrow. No lies on that one," he finally spoke up. He found his way to the door, let out a small wave towards Lando, and left with a gentle shut of the door.