Chapter Text
“You look like shit, mate.”
“Thank you, Logan, that’s just what I needed to hear.”
His friend raises his arms in surrender, at least looking apologetic. Oscar still considers not forgiving him.
“I don’t mean it like that!” he argues. “I’m worried, you look tired, exhausted and the least I need is thinking I’ll have to break your door because you passed out.”
And he has a point, Oscar is exhausted, but it’s not that he has many options or that it’s exclusive to him. At one point the world decided getting your degree and coming out on top of your class was no longer something that secured you a job and he has been struggling to get one that is stable enough he doesn’t have to worry if he will have enough to pay the rent.
His first job had ended when he refused to work a double shift while being paid as if he was just an intern, the second didn’t even start because they decided to change the location right before he was supposed to start and Oscar would need to spend more on getting there than what he was earning. He’s looking for his third, but he needs money and the only option he had after hours of searching was going for smaller jobs that pay less but at least give something.
“I’m not going to pass out,” he snorts. “I haven’t stopped eating or sleeping.”
“A monster is not food and sleeping two hours is not enough.”
“Who said I just have that?” he asks, eyes narrowed at him. “You’re exaggerating.”
He has two meals a day and sleeps five hours, thank you very much.
“You know I’m not doing that much better, but my offer still stands, we can go back to living together.”
Oscar ends up sighing, leaning back on the chair with a small smile. “I know, but I’m fine, I promise.”
They did live together. Both ran into the harsh reality of the world when they graduated, so living together was the most reasonable choice and it worked. Splitting the costs of living was easier between two, but things changed. Logan realised he didn’t like the branch Oscar was taking of their degree and wanted to follow another one, which lead him to look for a job somewhere else. Oscar had been the happiest when he finally got what he liked, even when that was far away and forced Logan to move out and was still happy when he met Alex and both decided to live together to also shoulder the weight of the ridiculous rent London demanded.
Oscar is no longer tied to one place, at least for now, his small programming jobs don’t force him to go to an office, but he’s not about to jump into the domestic life his best friend and his partner have.
“Alex is who told me to remind you,” he says with a frown. “He has no issues.”
“Never said he did,” he hums. “But I’m managing things in here, so it’s fine.”
Logan’s sigh is mostly of defeat, though, his entertained smile says he’s more than used to how Oscar is. “Fine, but I’m still checking on you at set intervals to make sure you’re still alive.”
“Just finish that ice cream.”
And as stressful as everything is, he enjoys the moment. He risks sounding like some middle-aged man who has worked his entire life, but he is tired, he needs a moment to get some air and slow down even when he knows it will run over him the moment he’s back.
“You should bring Alex next time,” he says, both waiting for Logan’s bus. “Me refusing the offer to live with you two will make him believe I hate him.”
“Nah, he knows you’re stubborn,” Logan hums. “But I actually think he would love the idea to join us.”
“So I have to get to know him and clarify all the nonsense you told him about me?” he asks with a raised brow. “What a wonderful friend you are.”
“My God, you are what I’m looking for!”
Still mid-laughter, Oscar turns to look at where the voice is coming from, expecting nothing but some random people talking between them but instead finding a tall man moving towards him. A glance at Logan shows him as confused as he is, smile dropping from his face.
“Sorry?”
“Tell me you’re not a model,” the man continues, his French accent strong, stopping in front of him. “Please.”
And alright, he hates the flush that spreads all over his face and neck, but the least he expected to hear is some random man, so well-dressed and good-looking, too, saying he looks like a model. Who even goes around life doing that?
“Of course I’m not,” he says, elbowing Logan who is trying and failing to hold his laughter. “What are you— Who are you?”
“Ah, thank God,” Mr Dramatic continues, extracting from the pocket of the expensive-looking jacket he’s wearing a small card. “Charles Leclerc, someone who is trying to survive the demon of a boss I have.”
And well, funny even rich people seem to struggle with anything work-related, but Oscar has no idea what is going on and why, of all the people currently moving down the street, has to be him the one he approached. Still, he looks at the card to find the man’s name, what probably is his phone number and a lion-like-figure in the corner with Verstappen Racing engraved below.
“Right, so…”
“You have heard about the company, right?”
Oscar nods because, who hasn’t? He likes cars in general and is interested in the racing aspect of it, but even if he wasn’t, he’s sure most have heard about the best-selling brand that provides simulators and a collection of more things for the sport.
“We’re launching a new collection and I’m looking for a model.”
Could this get weirder?
“So you are looking for a model but felt relieved when I said I’m not.”
The man shrugs, as if that really makes a lot of sense in his head and is the most reasonable thing in the world. “You don’t know my boss.”
Clearly.
“The thing is, he got very passionate about this new collection and wants everything to match the idea he has,” he continues when Oscar’s expression surely says how he’s seconds from walking away. “He doesn’t want models, he says they’re too refined, and he wants something more natural.”
“So you went out to pick someone from the street.”
“Basically, yes,” he shrugs. “You fit in what he’s looking for.”
This doesn’t make any goddamn sense, maybe he’s still dreaming and hasn’t even left his apartment, maybe he hit his head somewhere and is hallucinating in the hospital. “That’s not—”
“It’s all legal, though,” he says. “It’s not that I’ll tell you to get in the car so I can drive you there. There will be a contract and all, two days, two hundred pounds if he says no to the pictures and more if they are used.”
Logan chokes at his side, Oscar himself feels colour leaving his face. “What?”
“Look, I know how weird all of it is, it’s not that I will just make people waste two days of their lives with no compensation,” he continues. “I can give you the rest of the day to think about it, call me if you’re interested, if you don’t call, then I’ll go back to walking around the streets like a freaking headless chicken.”
Oscar isn’t sure he actually says something when he bids both farewell, his mind is still going around the ridiculous amount of money and how that will be like a full bucket of fresh water for a dying man.
“You’re going to accept, right?” Logan’s voice finally snaps him out of his thoughts.
“What?” he asks, turning to look at him. “Logan, in what world am I a good model?”
“They are not looking for a model.”
“But that’s what the job is for!” he argues. “I don’t even pose in my own photos, how do you expect me to do that?”
“Trying!” Logan snorts. “You have this opportunity landing on your hands and still dare to complain?”
And well, yes, he has a point. This still feels too good to be true, but it’s not that he told him to follow him into a dark alley. The card looks legit and the man looked too presentable to be some shady individual.
“I have to think about it.”
“Then do it, but don’t call him at midnight,” he says, turning away when his bus stops. “Oscar Piastri, please don’t make me smack some sense into you.”
“Just go before the bus leaves you,” he says, pushing him towards the door. “I’ll text you what I decided.”
He receives a very unimpressed expression, he would doubt Logan would be throwing something at him if he had the chance, but he turns around to walk away before he can further dwell on it. This is ridiculous, crazy, makes no goddamn sense and yet...
Wouldn’t it be stupid to reject it?
He walks around his apartment like a caged animal after leaving the card on the coffee table. That money would help him a lot, but there’s also the awkwardness, the fear of having that mysterious yet demanding boss somehow ridiculing him for even accepting the proposition, because he’s not what he was looking for.
He would still have the money of the contract, but still.
His stomach choosing that moment to complain about the lack of food feels quite telling.
“Hi, I, uh, I’m the one on the street.” One can’t be that stupid. “I didn’t even give you my name, but it’s Oscar.”
“Oscar, good, nice to meet you,” the man hums. “I want to believe you called because you’re accepting, yes?”
“I… yeah, I guess,” he says, rubbing his face with his free hand. “But I have no experience, I honestly still believe this is a bad idea but, uhm, I can give it a try.”
“That’s the spirit, our photographer will do the magic, don’t worry,” he continues, pleased. “I’ll send you the address, we can meet tomorrow at noon and go over the contract.”
“Sure… Do I need to bring something?”
“Not at all, if you accept, we will provide everything,” he says. “You’re a lifesaver, mon ami, so see you tomorrow.”
He hangs up after another goodbye and Oscar uses that methodical way of acting to further reassure himself this isn’t some kind of trap. When his phone rings again with the address, he types the address and sees the logo of the brand popping up, with the address belonging to one of the many offices they have scattered around the world.
It’s real, or so it seems, he can always turn back before going in if it doesn’t feel right. It’s going to be fine, just a bit of effort and he will have that money to give himself a moment to breathe.
“Oscar Piatri, you’re out of your damn mind.”