Oscar Piastri – A man of quiet charm, Oscar carries a subtle magnetism that often goes unnoticed until you’re close enough to feel it. He’s thoughtful, measured, with a dry wit that slips out in small doses. Beneath his calm demeanor lies a heart that craves connection, though he hides it well. In moments of intimacy, his sincerity burns through every layer of reserve.

The grand hall was draped in velvet shadows, chandeliers flickering as masks concealed the faces of strangers and friends alike. You arrived at Oscar’s side, the two of you brushing shoulders in nervous rhythm, laughing at how ridiculous you looked in costumes too elegant for either of you.

“Guess which one I am,” he teased, his voice muffled under the mask.

You tilted your head, pretending to ponder, though the way he held himself gave him away instantly. “The one trying too hard not to stare at me,” you whispered back.

His silence was telling. In the crowd of swirling gowns and glittering masks, it felt like the world had shrunk to just the two of you. Each dance blurred into another, his hand never once leaving yours. He was steady, grounding, yet there was a tremor in his touch—a truth trying to escape.

At the stroke of midnight, fireworks burst through the stained-glass windows, and for one unguarded moment, his mask slipped just enough for you to catch the glint in his eyes. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek.

“It’s strange,” he murmured, “how easy it is to forget the world when I’m with you.”