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WINE is arguably one of the worst alcohols out there, when accounting for the flavor, at least. To Maia, it never tasted right, was always bitter, and she would usually go for a mocktail over actual alcoholic drinks anyway; but her curiosity got the best of her, since it was her parents' favorite brand, and Oscar was willing to split the bottle too.

They both have barely drunk any of the liquid in their glasses though, not just because of the taste, but also because their conversations haven't been as bad as Maia expected them to be tonight.

"So, can I ask you a question?" Oscar asks, looking away from the television playing some movie that they haven't actually been paying attention to for the past hour or so.

The house has gone quiet, with her parents deciding to head to bed since being wine drunk after working a night shift the night before is a horrible mix. Maia and Oscar's voices were the only sounds filling the void, with the quiet noise of the TV a mere whisper compared to their words.

She lowers her wine glass and places it on the living room coffee table. "What is it?"

"How are you only in your second year of uni if you've been there for, what, four years?" He twirls the red liquid in his own glass. "I, I don't know, I was just thinking about it since Caroline is younger than the both of us, but she's graduating soon."

Maia hums fondly as she figures out what to say, memories of roadtripping with Angela and feeling what she could only describe as free flooding her brain.

And, over a snarky remark, she chooses to opt for the truth instead.

"I...took a gap year," She says. "And it turned into three gap years very quickly..."

To admit such a thing in front of her former schoolmate-academic-rival-childhood-best-friend was just a wicked act, and not in the good way; but Maia could care less with how funny Oscar looks when his eyes go wide.

As he nearly spills the wine on his shirt, he leans forward. "Seriously? You're kidding."

"No, yeah, me and Angela both..." Maia rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "It's a long story. I don't want to talk your ear off about it."

"No, tell me!" He insists. "I'm really curious about it."

It's unbelievable how he does this, really. He just lets her go on and on and on, as if her words actually have any meaning to him and it's so...

So stressful.

She doesn't know when to stop talking, when to just hold off on her words so she doesn't come off as too talkative.

Or too annoying, maybe, is the phrase she's truly searching for.

"No," she declines, shaking her head. "You always allow me to talk too much."

Oscar whips his head back and forth. "What?" He then takes a minuscule sip of his wine, the wine that he poured into a whiskey glass because 'A glass is a glass, Maia. Do I really need to use a specific kind?' "I'm interested in what you have to say," he adds, before lowering his busy hand into his lap. "Come on, tell me. I'll listen."

In response, for once, in a place where she would typically push forward, she concedes.

"So, basically, Angela's biological dad, Connor, right? He has this company so he's like, weirdly rich, and a few years ago he found out her mom was getting married to her step-dad, so out of guilt—or something—he wired Angela some money and me and her decided on a whim to go on a gap year to Vermont."

"'Some money'?" Oscar repeats.

"Yeah," Maia nods. "If you think that 850,000 USD is 'some money.'"

His eyes widen again at the number. "You're kidding."

"Nope, but, yeah. Angela took the money and we ended up planning the trip. Then, when we got there, we ended up finding a cheap flat and we just..." she shrugs, grabbing her glass from the coffee table. "Travelled, for three years. In Vermont, some trips to Canada, and the surrounding states. That's why my acting career roster was so scarce until now and stuff like that."

"That is..." Oscar huffs, readying his glass for another sip. "Insane."

She traces the rim of her wine glass with a small smile. "Yeah, so, that's why we're only second years."

"Did your parents know?"

"Of course. They—" Maia thinks fondly at the image of her parents' shocked faces when she had video called them to tell them the news. "They hated the idea, actually, but I was, um, already in Vermont by the time I told them, so..."

Oscar chuckles with a smile. "Have I ever told you I've always felt that you were the more rebellious one out of the two of us?"

She lets out a small huff of a laugh. "No, but, I would have figured since the one time we both snuck out, you made us turn back after twenty minutes."

"That is a long time!"

"It really isn't."

"It," he rolls his eyes, diverting his eye contact to the TV as he takes another sip of his drink. "It was to me."

She laughs and follows his motions, letting the bitter taste run to her tastebuds. "Well, that was a prime example of you letting me talk too much."

Oscar places his glass on the table and sighs with a shake of his head. "You say that like it's a bad thing. I like hearing you talk," he says softly, the words echoing in Maia's head.

She smiles lopsidedly, eyes trying to look for a hint of untruthfulness in his words.

Jeez.

Maybe Angela was right about the whole avoiding attachment thing, or whatever it was called.

"Okay, well," she stammers. "Now, you have to tell me something, a story or, whatever."

Oscar leans back in his seat and clicks his tongue. "Mm," he crosses his arms as he thinks of something to say. "How about I just...show you something instead?"

What.

Wha-a-a-a-at?

"Uh," she chuckles nervously. "What is it?"

"Nothing bad just," he promises, before getting up and making a motion for her to stay where she is. "Just give me a second, alright?"

"Um, okay," Maia nods hesitantly, watching as Oscar walks over to the plastic bag that was once full of some food he had ordered for him, Maia, and her family to share.

It's not until he pulls out a small box with what seems to be an envelope on top that Maia finds her interest piqued.

Oscar plops back down into his spot on the couch, and proceeds to hold out the box for her to take. "You didn't think I was going to let the Christmas season go by without getting you a gift, right?"

Maia tilts her head with a curious look, then scoots closer to him as she takes the box from his hands.

"What is it?" She asks, giving the box a small shake.

She pulls the envelope out from its ribbon-holder on the box and reads the back of it, where Oscar has written MAIA, Merry Christmas :) in neat, quick handwriting.

She places the box down next to her and rips the envelope open, and takes out the note inside.

It was short, but the words were enough to put Maia in a state of disbelief:

Maia,

Happy holidays! Thank you for allowing me to spend time with you and your family, even if your dad was the one who invited me :)

I hope you like the gift I got you. I bought it while we were shopping together and I had slipped away to 'go to the restroom.' Haha, not so smart now, are you?

I'm glad we've reconnected. I missed you more than you probably think.

— Osc :)

"Alright," Oscar lowers the note, not knowing that Maia had already finished reading it. "Don't read it while I'm here. You're gonna make me worried I wrote something wrong."

"Oscar..." she says. Her tone was soft, softer than it had ever been before. She covers her face with a laugh. "You didn't have to do this!"

Oscar's laugh soon mixes with her own. "It's Christmas!" He states simply, taking ahold of the box and giving it to her once more. "Come on, open it."

Maia lowers her hands, and she feels her cheeks start to hurt from smiling so much.

This is weird. This is so, so weird, and God forbid that Maia ever admits that she sort-of, really feels flattered that Oscar would even think to do such a thing.

How is this the same Oscar that left her all those years ago? It was like two separate people, with the same face and same memories.

She takes the box once again, and undos the white ribbon around the well-wrapped gift. Maia then tears back the paper, and the words that she reads are enough to shake her to her core.

The brand name, golden and bright against the pink packaging.

You're kidding, she thinks. You're fucking kidding.

"You—" she starts. Maia turns her head, almost scared that Oscar had given her the wrong gift. "Is this not for someone else?"

The driver shakes his head. "Nope. It was for you, the whole time."

"Oh my God," she giggles, like she was a teenage girl all over again. "I thought you had a girlfriend or something!"

Oscar then blinks as he leans back, shaking his head. "What? When have I ever mentioned—"

"I don't, I don't know!" She laughs. "I was just so sure—"

"Well," he gestures at the box. "It's for you, so, open it!" He says with just as much excitement as Maia.

She slides off the lid of the box and looks upon the true gift hiding inside.

Earrings.

Beautiful, dangling earrings shaped like flowers, bedazzled with silver jewels and white enamel against gold hardware. The colors all meshed perfectly together, making for a beautiful, wearable art piece; a wearable art piece that now sat in Maia's hands.

Maia lowers the box into her lap as she looks to Oscar, who was watching her with a small smile on his lips.

"Oscar..."

"Ye-e-es?" He sings, tilting his head as he leans forward to listen to her words, to listen how he always did whenever she spoke.

Oscar Piastri.

Unbelievable. Impossible. Unreal.

Maia closes her eyes as she shakes her head, her smile still unwavering on her face, and she doesn't know what possesses her in the moment, but she pulls him into a hug with her arms wrapped around his neck and the box still in her hands.

He's very, very warm; and it hits her that she and Oscar have never hugged before, even when they were young.

Oscar must have made that realized too, since it's almost like the man needs to render the motion in his brain, to process it first as his arms remain to himself for a few seconds.

When Oscar finally does wrap his arms around Maia's torso, she feels sick.

A good kind of sick.

Does that even exist?

"Thank you, Osc," Maia says quietly, and she feels him only tighten his hold on the actress.

"Of course, Mai," he responds, matching her volume.

It was like the exchange was something to be cherished between them alone, something special.

Something that was their's to keep.

When she pulls away, she gets up immediately and rushes to the mirror mounted on a wall in her dining room area.

She then takes out the earrings she was already wearing, and switches them out for the ones that Oscar had purchased for her, the white and silver colors bright against her dark hair.

In the mirror's reflection, she can see Oscar now standing, leaning against the backside of the couch as he watches her with a soft look in his eyes.

Maia then turns around with her hands on her hips.

"What do you think?" She asks, and Oscar nods.

"You look pretty."

Dramatically, she flips her hair and grins. "It's the model in me, obviously."

The man then moves his head side to side, and—almost as if it was a reminder—says, "You were always pretty, Maia."

And she pretends that she doesn't hear it, because she remembers very well the way she had blushed when he had said it the first time back in Baku after the FIA ceremony, and she didn't want her face to turn that shade of pink again.

Her head is spinning as she turns away to admire the jewelry in the mirror, and she tries to ignore the way Oscar keeps his eyes on her as she does, but it's hypnotizing in a way that she can't explain.

He looks entranced by her. That's the only way she could describe it, but even that couldn't do justice to the way his eyes were fixated on her; and Maia's not sure how to take that, but she's too weak to ignore the fact that she most definitely likes it, and that she hopes he never looks away.

She feels sick again.

The good kind of sick.

OSCAR goes home that night with half a bottle of wine in his system, and a creme colored hat added to his closet; because apparently Maia had purchased something for him in secret too. Embroidered into the front of the cap was his initials, a dark OP visible with black thread. Maia said she bought it because she had seen an interview of him joking that he needed some more hats and sunnies because people kept going up to him in public.

He had laughed when she said that, and, now, he's sat against his bedroom door, holding the hat in his hands and blushing like he's just some kid with a crush, not a full-grown adult who's name is known by a good chunk of the world.

He still feels her arms wrapped around his neck, and smells her perfume lingering around him in his room.

Oscar's brain echoes her name, on repeat and never ending.

Maia.

Maia.

Maia.

NOTES!

apologies for the long chapter i like to yap

anyways MAIA'S SLIPPING EVERYONE GET THE CAMERAS OUT GET THE CAMERAS OUT ITS HAPPENING

xoxo, cas