Chapter Text
Logan always found it difficult to make friends. He found himself too difficult to be seen, to be loved enough to be more than a ghost haunting his classmates. He was only 12 years old. He was far too young to find the forever love shown in movies or the parents of his cheerful school friends, yet still too old to have never experienced the promises of what would be unconditional love. It wasn’t his fault. He had grown up with parents who did not see him; parents who would raise him to be the invisible shell of a tweenage boy merely because they had a son too early. Someone should have taught that a son does not carry a wedding ring nor will he be the glue for a newfound love that was nothing more than a fizzled-out spark. The love they could’ve forged from the gift of life was long forgotten in a troubled stream of shouting and opioids.
The young blonde settled himself into his assigned seat. He was square-center in the classroom: the perfect place to be invisible, the perfect place to blend into the noise of his classmates that surrounded him. He looped his navy blue backpack straps around the back of his chair, digging out his folder and pencil case. For someone so young, Logan was neat and clean almost as if he was waiting to finally be seen and loved on the sole basis of being clean-cut. He had always wondered if his parents were cleaner, would they be able to love him? Would cleanliness clear the plate of stress that had piled up to allow him to slip onto their plate even for just a moment?
The door to the classroom swung open, a hush falling over the classroom. The sudden silence was quickly replaced with the sound of dress shoes clacking on the linoleum tiles. However, Mr. Vettel was not alone like usual. His hand, which usually held a mug of coffee, held a manilla folder full of loose papers. A small brunette trailed behind him, just a few steps behind with slow enough strides to give the impression that the new boy was cooler than the rest of the class. The boy had his head bowed slightly, his eyes locked onto the floor as if he needed to study every tile below his feet. His hands squeezed the straps of his bright orange backpack so tightly that it made his backpack rest almost partially up the back of his neck. If you were naive enough, you would’ve thought that he had to hold onto the straps to keep them together.
“Class,” Mr. Vettel’s German accent bounced off of the brick walls, “I’d like you to meet our newest student.” He reached over, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Oscar, would you like to introduce yourself?”
The bright orange boy looked up nervously, his eyes darting around the face of his new teacher like he would be unable to speak if he did not know every single freckle and wrinkle that adorned the Germans’ face. With a dry swallow and a nervous sigh, the boy spoke. “Hello,” Small giggles erupted from the small herd of the girls in the back of the classroom at the Australian accent that passed through the boy’s lips. That was all it took for the nerves to take over the boy, but he never faded at the embarrassment.
“My name is Oscar, Oscar Piastri.” Oscar cleared his throat, his once intense grip loosening slightly. “I’m from Australia. I just turned 13 uh,” He paused, looking around for something that said the date on it. “Yesterday. If you have any questions, I can try to answer them.” Mr. Vettel smiled at the class, as if trying to prompt someone to ask a question. Oscar looked around at the class, shooting a shy grin that filled Logan with a new stirring of hope that he had never felt before.
The American boy wanted to raise his hand. His mind was so full of questions that they practically spilled from his ears, but he couldn’t. He was a mirage, nothing more and nothing less. He could be heard, like the whistling of wind through trees. If you were crazy enough, you’d find a message in the winds’ howls. The only difference between Logan and the wind was that no one had the urge to listen to him, to find the meaning behind the words he loosely strung together. So, instead of asking anything at all, Logan stayed quiet with his hands folded in his lap and his eyes locked on the folder that was neatly centered on his desk.
Mr. Vettel instructed Oscar quietly on where he should sit. Logan was too focused on the nothingness he had grown comfortable in that he didn’t realize that Oscar would be sitting right behind him. In fact, he had zero idea at all that the brunette had moved away from the front of the classroom until the Australian brushed against his shoulder. The contact made Logan freeze, a warmth rushing through his shoulder and down his arm like he had been bathed in the warm light of the sun. His eyes dragged from his own shoulder to look the Australian in the eyes. He knew that Oscar didn’t see him, nobody did but that was okay. It was okay .
Logan’s mouth went agape, but the words he could think of got lost before they could make it to his mouth. “I’m sorry,” The brunette whispered, his cheeks turning a soft pink with embarrassment. “I’m Oscar, it’s nice to meet you. What’s your name?” Oscar’s hand reached out, waiting for a handshake. Logan was confused, his hand turned in towards himself. His own fingers bending to point at himself, as if flabbergasted by the mere attention Oscar attempted to display towards him. A small giggle caused the corners of Oscar’s eyes to wrinkle, his nose scrunching up. “You, yeah. What’s your name?”
Logan looked at the hand Oscar extended towards him, still hanging in the air. Slowly, the American boy moved his hand to slip it in the others’ grasp. “I’m Logan.” He said, his voice coming out in a hoarse whisper. The words came out painfully dry. His own name was so unfamiliar to himself that it rolled off his tongue wrong, as if he was speaking a foreign language. When the boy looked at his hand fitting so snuggly in Oscars’, he could’ve sworn he could be seen just a bit more: that his skin held a little more color to it, his body took on a more defined shape, that he wasn’t so see-through.
“Hi Logan,” Oscar said with a smile, and that was the first time Logan had heard his name in a way that made him feel whole.