Chapter Text
He returned from office to find the basket kept near his doorway , picked it up and finally let himself into his apartment after a long day of data sheets , statistics and straining his eyes for more than 8 hours only to find a missing semi-colon.That didn't really deter him though , as he sat down on the floor , his lips curling up while his eyes scanned the card.Perhaps,some things, he thought,will always unlock memories that are strange and sweet, a past left behind yet unforgotten.
A faint memory of him running across the snow covered mountains, teasing , with someone chasing close behind , flashes in his mind almost instantaneously. He puts the card aside, instead pulling out a box tucked underneath his bed. He then rummages through the box and finds the picture he was looking for.
Another memory of four people screaming at the top of their lungs,reckless and happy, hit him. He digs deeper into the box until he finds the yearbook goes through the box even further to find the yearbook stopping to look at a picture of a guy in tousled brown hair , his grin albeit a bit small but warm enough.Turning the pages , he stops at another page before he finally looks up, at the window, the wind gusting through softly. He hadn't really planned to revisit any of this , but perhaps memories are like a box of chocolates -once opened , you can't really stop at one.
8 YEARS AGO
He struggled to get his overfilled cart straight through the aisle , book balanced in his hand. He couldn't really afford to leave it at home.This was the most important phase of his life , and he couldn't lose focus and his parents wouldn't like it either , having sacrificed so much for him to get into the best university.
While trying to force the cart to turn , he caught his reflection in the stacked televisions row, row after row. A pale face, sharp brown eyes, hair sticking up where he’d run his fingers through it too many times.Always serious.Always tired.
“Oi , you don't get to cut the line, you being a child doesn't really excuse basic manners and etiquette”his head whipped around at the sound of the sharp french laced english accent to see a guy his age fighting a kid.
“You’re the one who's acting like a child”the kid shot back.
“You really have no manners. Apologize ! ”
“Nope”
“Say sorry, cmon”
He gently gleams at this exchange , finding it almost hilarious , also noticing quite a few people staring before his view gets blocked by his mother , her eyes fixed at the commotion, a grim look on her face.
The kid muttered a sorry at last, and the guy dismisses him with a glare , shooing him toward another cashier.As people drifted back to their shopping, Oscar steered the cart toward a checkout line only for the same boy to call out
“Oscar”his glare was gone, replaced with a grin ,”Oscar Piastri, right ?”
Oscar blinked. “Hi”he said meekly.Before he can say more, his mother interrupts, “Is he your friend ? ” her eyebrows raised
“Hi, Mrs. Piastri”,the boy answered smoothly,” I’m Charles. Oscar and I were in school together.”
After the short introduction , both filed into their checkout counters.Charles leans casually against his cart. “So , what are you doing nowadays ? ”
Oscar really didn't do much apart from studying , and he was pretty sure that studying wasn't the answer to the question Charles had asked, and so he muttered a quick “Nothing”, quietly praying his mother wouldn't intervene.
But again who ever listened to Oscar’s quiet prayers ?
“Why would you say nothing ? He’s studying engineering. Top of his class”
Charles chuckled.”You haven't changed. Oscar wished the floor would open up and swallow him. As if he didn't already have enough crisis about his way of living , now he had to hear that he hadn't changed, which meant he was still stoic ,still glued to his books - still the iceman.
“He was top of his class in school too Mrs. Piastri” Charles added. His mother, ever curious, asked what Charles was up to. He was studying arts, taking piano lessons, never the studious type. He tossed another bag of chips onto the counter, mentioning that his holidays had started today.
“I’m going to Hasisle tomorrow"and finally Oscar looked up sharply , and politely whispered to his mother to stop talking ,but she pressed on “With family ?"
Charles laughed , “No, I'm going with friends” , and glanced at Oscar, “Actually Oscar , you know them. Lando and Carlos ? Carlos Sainz , my best friend from school ?And Lando Norris ? That guy who used to slack off whenever he showed up ?”
Oscar doesn't reply, faintly smiled at the names, as if they were some distant ghosts of the past.
“Anyways , it was nice to meet you.Take it easy , Mrs.Piastri” Charles waved, finishing his checkout. Oscar thought that was the end of it until the cashier tells him that Charles left something , and he finds himself looking at the brochure of the Hasisle trip, Across the top,scrawled in barely legible handwriting
“tomorow 9am train station.”- lan