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2013.
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SOMEWHERE in Melbourne, there is a small neighborhood where two houses face one another: one with its outer walls painted a light blue, and the other a light cream, and in those houses, two very different children were raised. Despite this, the two children in question found themselves constantly talking, running garage to garage, or sitting on each other's front door steps to do homework, with a little bit of messing around on the side.
In 2013, Maia was twelve, and Oscar hadn't come to see her for two whole days, which wasn't the end of the world, but still worrying nonetheless.
He hadn't come to school for a bit, but even when he was sick, he'd always make it a point to go see Maia in-person and ask what he had missed in his absence.
Again, Maia hadn't seen him in two days, meaning that he hadn't even come by asking about school either.
So, Maia, with her little side-bang and babydoll top, had decided to ask her mom if she could go visit Oscar across the street, and she was happily allowed to since her mom was just that cool.
She entered the Piastri household using the emergency key hidden in the dirt of a potted plant by the door, and Mrs. Piastri wasn't all too surprised by the unannounced visit, especially since she was the one who said she could use said emergency key whenever she wanted to come by.
"Hi, Mrs. Piastri!" She greeted, as she always did, taking off her pink converse at the door.
Oscar's mom, who was cutting up some carrots for a meal, looked to the girl with a smile as she put down the knife and wiped her hands. "Maia! Good to see you, Hon!"
She walked up to the girl to give her a hug, which was happily reciprocated with small arms.
"Is Oscar here?" Maia asked, holding onto the older woman.
Mrs. Piastri sighed, letting go of the young girl. "Yeah, he's upstairs in his room. Been in a bit of a mood recently, though. He said it was because of his cold so I let him stay home from school for the past few days but, I'm not sure if he's telling the truth," she explains. "If you want, you can check up on him. Just be gentle."
Maia nodded in confirmation. "Okay."
"I'm serious. I don't want to hear any of those crazy jokes you guys like to share when you're playing," she chuckled, returning back to her place at the cutting board. "Please."
Maia nodded again, a smile on her face while she spoke, "I promise!"
And she really meant it.
She left the emergency keys on a side table near their couch, and quickly ran up the stairs to find Oscar's room. She'd been there many times, so she knew Oscar's room was the second door to the left.
Her clothed feet hit the wooden ground of the upstairs flooring as she walked, and she knocked on his door three times.
No response.
"Oscar?" She asked, knocking again.
It was only then that she heard the muffled steps of Oscar walking to the door.
With a click, Maia saw through the sliver of the door a very pale Oscar Piastri, causing her to let a gasp slip.
"Are you okay?" She asked, tilting her head to try and get a better view of the boy.
"'M sick," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie. "You might catch a cold if you come in."
Maia shrugged. "Medicine is a thing."
After a few seconds, Oscar hummed in response, "I guess."
He then pulled open the door wide, and allowed Maia into his little sanctuary he called his bedroom.
It was a pretty typical bedroom for a teenage boy, not that she had been in many of those before though. The most noticeable thing in the room was a shelf filled with all the trophies and medals he's earned throughout the years from RC car racing and karting. The metallic trophies were bright against the blue walls, catching the attention of anyone coming in.
Oscar coughed–a guttural one too, Maia almost puked at the sound–and flopped onto his bed. His face was buried into his pillow as he let Maia just...exist in his room.
"Have you been resting properly?" She asked, taking a seat at his desk in his little swivel chair she loved messing around with. Her chair in her own room was stationary, which was pretty boring.
"Sort of," he said, muffled by the pillow. He turned over to look at the girl. "Have I missed much at school?"
"Nah, just reviewing, really." She crossed her legs. "Your eyes are puffy."
Oscar shut his eyes closed, and turned his face back into his pillow. "I don't wanna talk about it," the boy responded, muffled again.
I don't wanna talk about it.
That meant it was bad, because usually, if one of them wanted to complain about something, they'd just go for it, no questions asked.
"Come on, Osc," Maia sighs, the little nickname coming out with ease. "What's bothering you?"
"Nothing," he turned over to face the wall rather than his friend.
"You're lying."
"You're interrogating a dying person."
"You're not dying, stupid."
"Interrogating and insulting me," Oscar reiterated, covering his ears. "So rude, honestly, Mai."
Mai and Osc. That's who they were at this age. In her head, Maia wanted them to be that forever. Mai and Osc, taking over the world one argument at a time.
She groaned at the difficulty that was dealing with Oscar, and got up from her place in his chair.
She reached for his hands and uncovered his ears. "Don't be difficult. Are you okay? Seriously. No lying."
Oscar looked up to the girl, like he was calculating a response in his head before speaking.
Man, yeah, his eyes were really puffy, and that's not what usually happens when you have a cold.
He sighed, sitting up on the bed and not letting go of one of Maia's hands. They were cold, she knew that because they always were, even in the Melbourne warmth, and they were probably not what Oscar needed at the time. Despite that fact, here he was, holding onto her like his life depended on it.
"You think I'm a good driver?" He asked silently as he looked at their interlocked hands.
Maia tsk-ed, "Is this what this is about?" She sat beside him, legs hanging off the side of the bed. "You're like, the best driver ever."
"Don't lie."
"I'm being for real, Oscar. You're really talented. It's so odd that you don't see that."
She had meant every word. She'd been watching every race of his that she could attend since they were ten, and after two years of material to work with, she could safely say Oscar could beat out more than half the karting community with his skill. He impressed her all the time, even if she didn't say it out loud.
"I.." He began, giving her hand a squeeze. "I do. I do see it, I'm just..." He faced her, his brown eyes looking into her own. "I hate being sick. I can't practice or do anything or else I'll cough everywhere in my helmet and that's gross, but if I can't practice that means I won't perform that well the next time I get in my kart, and I don't like thinking about that but," Oscar finally let go of Maia's hand to curl his knees up to his chest. "I don't wanna be bad at this."
"You won't be though," Maia reassured. Her hand found its way to the blankets of Oscar's bed, resting there as she spoke. "You're never gonna be bad at this, Oscar. You're gonna be one of the greats." She sighed, and began again, "I know we...we argue a lot, but I'm not gonna argue with you on this."
She knew about his little dream, to drive in Formula 1 and drive against his favorite drivers all around the world. He said to her once that the dream might be attainable if he can get to Europe. She had made him promise to visit her when he gets to that point, because she knew he would, and he agreed to make sure to come by to say 'hi' whenever he could.
She didn't know then that he'd break that promise in the future, and break her heart while he was at it too.
But, right now, they're twelve and dreaming big, and they'd support each other until the end if the world would let them.
"'One of the greats,'" Oscar repeats in a hushed tone, like the words are foreign in his mouth. "You think so?"
"I know so, Osc," she assured, giving him a small shake, and he laughed at the gesture and it's the best sound in the world.
He released his hold on his legs and kept his eyes on the girl, like she was his joy encapsulated in a person. "Okay," he said simply.
"So..." Maia began, scouring her brain for words. "Don't cry about it too much anymore."
Oscar gasps, "I wasn't crying about it!"
"Your eyes, mate!"
"I'm sick!"
"Didn't know colds make your eyes that puffy," she teased, earning a smack dead in face by Oscar's pillow. She fell dramatically, laughing slightly, and Oscar laughed with her, even as he reached for a tissue from the tissue box by the foot of his bed.
"Oh, sorry, by the way," he said after blowing his nose.
"Did you just say 'sorry' for blowing your nose?" She asked.
Oscar huffed, "No. I'm sorry for..." he crumbled the tissue and stood up to throw it away. "I held your hand," he explained with a turn to face the girl still sat on his bed. "That was weird, I shouldn't have done that."
Maia sat on his words for a while, kind of realizing she didn't really care all that much.
It was just Oscar anyway.
Plus, his hands were warm, and since her's were always cold, it worked well. Maybe her hands were made to be held by his or something poetic like that.
"It's okay, I don't mind."
And, with that answer leaving her mouth, Oscar looked at her differently than he had ever done before, and it couldn't have been due to his sickness.
The look he had given her was just...different, different from all the other ones he'd ever shown her. She had no name for the way his eyes rested on her, but whatever it was, whatever way he meant it, she kept to herself the fact that she liked it.
"Okay," he said barely above a whisper, and Maia had never been more glad she came over to his house.
When Maia and Oscar turn twenty-two, they'll be much different than this, but they don't need to know that, because at twelve years old, the two of them have already lived a thousand lives in the form of being each other's friend. They wouldn't say it if you asked them, but they just knew it to be an honest fact—the most important truth of all the truths the world had to offer.
Mai and Osc, taking over the world one argument at a time.
NOTES!
might just be my favorite chapter of anything i've ever written ever <3
xoxo, cas