#anyway. maybe i should talk about this more/make a tag

[vettelsvee]

SÍ... ESTAMOS SALIENDO | Oscar Piastri

Oscar Piastri x Pérez!Reader

SUMMARY: Scared of everyone to find out, Y/N Pérez and Oscar Piastri decide to hide their relationship from everyone until Checo starts wondering how Piastri learnt to speak Spanish so good... and specially why he has a Mexican accent ↳ REQUESTED BY ANON: Maybe one were she is checos daughter and they hide their relationship from him. And also maybe she teaches oscar some Spanish. At the end they end up telling checo about their relationship

WORD COUNT: 2399

WARNINGS: Use of Spanish. Important to say that even Spanish is my mother tongue, I may have some mistakes because it is Mexican Spanish and I don't know much about it, so I had to do some research. Otherwise, mentions of unwanted pregnancy, unprotected sex, drugs and alcohol

TAGLIST: @hc-dutch @raavadakedavra @coffeedestroyingperson @evey-kuznetskova @bowielovesyou @chaoswithus @isotopemylove @iceman-kazansky @gwginnyweasley @formula1-motogpfan @myescapefromthislife @regalbanshee [in case you wanna be tagged just tell me so i can add you!]

VEE'S NOTES: Not writing related but I’m obsessed with a K-Drama I started watching yesterday and I just wanna write Come What May series since the main characters’ personalities are the same as Seb and Y/N (Di in case you read the OC Version) there lmao. Anyways, missed a lot writing about Oscar (I definitely will be writing about him more as he's my second fave on the current grid) and this one got me so happy with how it turned out! Hope you like it as well, and remember that I'd love to see your comments <3 ↳ MAKE YOUR REQUESTS | LET'S TALK! | JANUARY UPDATE CALENDAR

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

“What if you taught me some Spanish?”

“Sorry, what did you just say?”

“That's it, Y/N. Teach me some Spanish.”

You, completely absorbed in looking at the pictures you had taken during the date you had with your boyfriend that same day, lifted your gaze from your phone and raised an eyebrow, fully taken aback by Oscar's proposal.

“Spanish? You? You already speak English! English is the only language that matters to you all…”

Oscar shrugged, nervously playing with the steering wheel. At that moment, he reconsidered what he had said, unsure now, and realized that maybe it had been a somewhat strange proposal on his part.

“I just want to understand you when you talk to your dad or your family. I know no one knows we’re together yet, but sometimes when you do video calls with them, I feel a bit lost. I also feel like sometimes you talk about me, and I’d like to know if I should worry,” he confessed, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“And why do you assume we talk about you, huh?”

“Well, because you always look at me out of the corner of your eye when you do.”

You couldn’t help but smile at how cute he looked with that unnecessary concern.

“Why do you have to be so chismoso?” You said, making Oscar give you a little tap on the shoulder. That just made you laugh more. “Alright, alright, fine! But I warn you in advance: if you laugh at me speaking Spanish or don’t take me seriously, I’ll break up with you.”

What started as a completely random proposal, with little prospect of a future or sense at first, eventually became one of your favorite routines. You took advantage of every moment together to practice, always hiding it from Checo or any member of the Pérez family when you were in the paddock. Moreover, whenever you were in your respective countries, you would watch Mexican movies and TV shows, and also some in their original version with English subtitles. You even started sending each other the occasional message in Spanish, thanks to the Australian’s initiative.

Oscar seemed to have, in your eyes, a natural talent for languages. Not only did he manage to learn greetings and basic words in less than a week, but after a month, he was already making the effort to use your Mexican accent and even incorporating words that seemed exclusive to your family’s vocabulary.

And that was exactly what, a few months later, turned into a real nightmare for the secrecy with which you kept your relationship.

While no one knew you were together as a couple, Oscar and you pretended to be just friends when you were in public. That’s why it was completely normal for Checo Pérez to see his daughter with the Australian, having coffee and chatting animatedly after a press conference.

“¡Buenos días, Checo!” Oscar said in almost perfect Spanish. “¿Cómo va, papá?”

You, hearing that last word, spat out the little coffee you had left in your mouth and opened your eyes, completely surprised. Checo, however, made a face and a frown, questioning his daughter’s friend.

“What did you say?” You asked, though you knew perfectly well that what your boyfriend had just said was something you hadn’t taught him, and he’d probably heard it from you.

“Well… ¿Cómo va, papá?” the guy repeated innocently. “Did I say it right?”

“Papá?” repeated the Red Bull driver, even more shocked. “Do you even know what that means, kid?”

“It’s an expression, right? Isn’t it like saying buddy?”

Checo stared at him for a few seconds that felt like an eternity to Oscar. Then, he turned his gaze to you, who was pretending to fiddle with your phone to avoid having to face an awkward conversation about why your secret boyfriend had just said that.

“¿Te importaría decirme por qué Oscar habla como tú?” Pérez asked quickly in Spanish, clearly aiming for Oscar not to understand.

“He doesn’t talk like me!” You quickly replied in English. “Oscar has been practicing Spanish, and well… he wants to fit in better so he’s trying. Duolingo isn’t the best app for learning, so he’s been watching YouTube videos... Right, Osc?”

The guy nodded, but that didn’t convince Checo. Still, he didn’t say anything else and, instead, coldly said goodbye to you both.

As soon as he was far enough away not to hear you, you turned to Oscar and started shaking him:

“Of all the things you could say, you call him papá?!”

“I didn’t do it on purpose, babe!” He rushed to reply, feeling bad for you. “I’ve heard it so many times that, well… I just said it without thinking. I honestly didn’t think it was anything bad.”

You huffed, knowing that it wasn’t Oscar’s fault or his curiosity and interest in learning your mother tongue, but yours for not setting boundaries or explaining the meaning of each word, as well as the context in which it should be used or who it was addressed to.

From that moment on, your father started paying more attention. He was an expert in discretion, but you knew him well enough to realize that, since the incident with Oscar, he had become much more alert and interested in you both, especially looking for clear signs that would confirm his suspicions that his daughter was dating one of the newest additions to the grid.

Unfortunately for you and Oscar, the Mexican didn’t need to investigate much, and he only did so for a month to confirm his theories.

During one of the briefings with all the drivers, Checo heard Oscar mumbling an “Órale, wey” followed by some insults in Spanish that you had made up when it had gotten pretty late and everyone was eager to return to their hotel. Also, instead of saying “sorry,” he let out a “¿mande?” which wouldn’t have been strange if he hadn’t continued speaking in English, as if nothing had happened.

You and Oscar seemed unaware of all your slip-ups; on the contrary, feeling like you weren’t arousing anyone’s suspicion, you lowered your guard. Displays of affection in public, though still cautious, became more frequent, especially when Checo wasn’t near you. Or at least, that’s what you thought.

The back of the McLaren garage, just a few meters away from Red Bull’s, as expected, wasn’t the most suitable place.

“We should go somewhere else,” you said softly while nervously fiddling with the collar of your boyfriend's shirt, who had his arm around your waist.

“Why? This place is perfect,” Oscar replied, unconcerned.

“Yeah, sure, perfect for my dad to catch us,” you muttered. “If he already suspects and looks like that doll from the red light, green light game on Squid Game, analyzing us so much to jump on us as soon as he catches us… imagine if he finds us. He’ll kill us, I swear.”

“Come on, Y/N, just try to relax. We’ve got it all under control. Seriously, there’s nothing to worry about, mi amor.”

You blushed at the compliment he had given you in Spanish, and couldn’t help but plant a chaste kiss on his lips, even though everything inside you felt chaotic.

“If you’re trying to convince me that everything’s fine by speaking to me in Spanish, just know that you’re doing it perfectly,” you declared. “But don’t forget, that doesn’t mean I don’t feel a tremendous anxiety and keep thinking that we’re literally one step away from getting caught. Do you know what he could do if he finds out that you and I… that?” You asked hesitantly.

“Is he going to give us a lecture on how we have to stay professional whenever we’re in public? Or is he going to tell me he’ll kill me if I even think about getting you pregnant?”

“He’ll probably make you come home to have lunch with my family and only speak Spanish,” you tried not to laugh but couldn’t help yourself. “And trust me, you don’t want to be in that position because you’ll have all my aunts, and there are quite a few of them, right next to you, asking you some very uncomfortable questions.”

“Then we’ll have to tell him as soon as possible so he can prepare. How about I tell him that I’m absolutely and completely in love with his daughter?”

You shot him a glare, panic flooding your insides at the thought of that happening.

“No, don’t you dare do that, Osc, and especially not here. You have no idea how my dad would react if…”

“Why not?” He interrupted. Then, he stopped, and after a few seconds that felt like an eternity to you, he seemed to finally find the courage to speak: “I could tell him something like… ¡Señor Pérez, estoy saliendo con su hija porque además de ser la mejor mujer de este mundo, me hace la persona más feliz del mundo!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, filled with emotion inside at Oscar’s sweet yet innocent declaration of love aloud.

However, a cough behind you made you snap back to reality.

“Can I know what you’re doing with my daughter, Piastri?”

You both slowly turned around. There, standing before you, was Checo, arms crossed, with a very unfriendly look on his face. You swore that if Oscar walked out of there alive and without a reprimand from your overprotective father, he could do whatever he wanted for the rest of the year.

“Well…” Oscar began, his confidence suddenly disappearing.

“Esto no es lo que parece, te lo juro,” you said in Spanish, trying to calm your father, even though you knew your attempts would be in vain.

“Oh, really?” Checo asked, raising an eyebrow, knowing you were both lying. “Then, what explanation do you have for this kid shouting to the four winds in almost perfect Spanish that he’s in love with you? At least that’s what I understood, if my Spanish doesn’t fail me.”

You were about to reply, but instead, Oscar gently took you by the wrist and stepped forward, surprisingly confident.

“Checo, I’m not playing around. Okay, I was joking about that, but not about what it means… like…” Piastri explained slowly, nerves eating at him as he couldn’t bring himself to look Checo in the face. “Your daughter matters to me, well, like… you know, like a boyfriend cares for his girlfriend.”

Checo tried not to laugh at the declaration of love from the man who had just confirmed he was his son-in-law and did his best to maintain the protective fatherly composure, thinking no guy would ever be good enough for his daughter.

“So you care about my daughter… You, one of my coworkers, a twenty-three-year-old kid, care about my eldest daughter enough to believe you can have a relationship with her…”

“It’s not that I believe it, it’s that I know I do.”

Not only you and Checo were surprised by the boy’s words, but Oscar himself too. He regretted it immediately, but before he could apologize to Checo, the man stepped forward, raising a hand and staring at him:

“So… are you two dating or not?”

“Yes, for almost six months now,” you answered, feeling a knot in your stomach, but much less pressure now that your father knew the truth.

Checo sighed, running a hand over his face as he tried to process the news his daughter, his little girl, had just told him. The girl he knew ever since she was born and now he had to imagine her spending, if not the rest of her life, at least part of it, with another man.

“And why didn’t you tell me before?” Checo asked, his voice tinged with disappointment but also some understanding. “Don’t you trust me?”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s that I knew you would react badly,” you answered, frustrated. “I trust you, and I know you want to protect me from any guy who could make me feel bad, but you have to understand that I’m twenty years old, and whether you like it or not, I’m not a little girl anymore.”

Checo looked at you and then turned his gaze to Oscar, who had his head down. Besides his nerves being pretty evident, so was his willingness to face any kind of dispute or reprimand from him just to stay with you.

That made Checo feel a bit bad, though it also gave him some relief seeing that the Australian was truly concerned and, why not say it, in love, willing to do anything for his little Y/N.

Finally, he let out a small sigh, trying to calm himself. He repeated your words over and over in his mind before saying anything else because if you had never disappointed him in your life, then he didn’t want to disappoint you just because you were in love.

I’m not a little girl anymore.

“Checo…” Piastri spoke, but Checo raised a finger, silencing him instantly.

“I’m only going to say this once: you better not hurt my daughter, or I’ll hurt you when I kick you off the track or crash into you accidentally. Is that clear?”

Oscar swallowed hard, feeling that Checo wasn’t joking.

“Understood…”

“And as for you,” Checo now spoke to you, completely stunned, “don’t think this is over. Your mother, you, and I will have a conversation about this and several other topics when we get home.”

Unprotected wild sex, alcohol, and drugs, for sure, you thought, forcing a smile to try to hide your worry.

“Now go on and keep loving each other, but be careful where and how you do it. I don’t want to be a grandfather just yet.”

With those words, Checo left, leaving you both.

“Well… now he knows. Finally,” Oscar said, letting out a sigh of relief.

“I told you he was intense. Do you believe me now?”

“Of course, mi amor,” the Australian replied, taking your hand and heading to your room in the McLaren motorhome, so, as Checo had said, you wouldn’t become grandparents just yet. “Your dad scared me, but I’m not going to lie to you, he gave me enough motivation to beat him in every race from now on.”

[clancyycat]

i was trying to look at my phone but the brightness was too low and i tried to fix it by turning the volume on my music higher and then i was like why isn’t this workinfndgdhsbdv

[sieglinde-freud]

oh im obsessed with this actually… who ever wrote this one i am kissing u on the forehead and hugging you real tight… inigo is such a loverboy im kkkhhhhhhijnsdnfng

[gjsxj0]

mindless rambling in tags don't mind me

[transmascutena]

these lines hit different when you read utena as transmasc

[kaurwreck]

do you have a favorite literary ref in bsd or is that a cruel question to ask

This is so hard! I like lots and lots of them, for different reasons. If I had to choose only one, and if I were to be sincere, Gin might be my favorite literary reference. I really love how much her namesake short story reframes Akutagawa's character, especially when comparing his Beast iteration against the version of him in bsd's main timeline. O-Gin also just really neatly and cleanly encapsulates what I love about Akutagawa's Kirishitan mono, including his affection for the Holy Fool trope.

To be more silly, I really love when Atsushi tell Tanzō Tonan that he has to feed his chameleon to escape the conversation with Tonan upon realizing Tonan wasn't being forthright (just ahead of the Decay of Angels framing the Agency). There are two references here that I adore (1) the reference to Chamelon Diary, in which Nakajima Atsushi semi-autobiographically recounts receiving a chameleon from a student and also his epiphany on how to live absent objective existential meaning; and (2) the reference to Tonan-sensei, a short story by Nakajima Atsushi about his beloved uncle, whom I also adore.

Rather than attempt to write an essay on Tonan-sensei and his influence on Nakajima Atsushi, I'll simply include a roughly translated version of the short story's Wikipedia synopsis:

The story depicts the protagonist, who secretly harbors self-loathing resentment towards his uncle because he shares similar mental characteristics with himself, but through his interactions with his uncle as he faces death, he gradually sorts out his critical view of the coexistence of love and hate and comes to realize the deep love he has for his uncle that lies dormant within him.

I will also include below a snippet about Tonan (referred to also as "Tan") from Nakajima Atsushi: His Life and Work, a dissertation submitted to the University of Hawaii by Nobuko Miyama Ochner in May 1984 (the date is relevant, because Ochner-sensei was able to speak to some of Atsushi's then-living family and friends to piece together his biography):

[Nakajima Atsushi's grandfather's] second eldest son, Tan, was also a scholar of Chinese. A bright boy, he was able to read the Chinese classics at the age of six and compose poetry and prose in Chinese at thirteen, according to the Japanese system of reckoning age. He was a proud, uncompromising, and impatient man, who never married, and who seemed to be always pursuing the impossible. In a short piece entitled "Tonan Sensei" (Tonan was Tan's pen name), Atsushi describes his uncle as having the virgin's beautifully clear, pure eyes— "the eyes of a man who is always dreaming an impossible dream." Tan, who revered General Nogi Maresuke (1849-1912), was an "amalgam of fervent patriotism and the temperament of a traditional Confucian scholar." He was greatly concerned about the future of Japan and China, as well as of Asia in general, confronted with the onslaught of the Western colonial powers.

...

In his articles he laments the ignorance of Chinese culture and tradition on the part of the Japanese diplomats in China, and criticizes their excessive reliance upon Western sources of news information. He felt that the peoples of Japan and China must unite in their efforts to repel the outsiders from East Asia; he went to China at least two times to try to enlist Chinese support for his vision. One of the prominent men he met was the scholar Lo Chen-yii (1866-1940), who later wrote an introduction to the posthumously published collection of Tan's poetry and prose, Tonan sonko. Atsushi is said to resemble this uncle most.

[haughttopics]

finally watched happiest season and i totally understand why people hated the ending.

except for Jane. she deserves the world.

[across-stars]

(he's autistic to me)

[lyril]

lumpus is a fascinating specimen glad theres other people also fond of him

HE SURE IS i will be honest i almost like him a Little Too Much because i Also live in my fantasy world of make believe where camp lazlo is a little more than a 6.4/10 show (I STILL LOVE YOU SWEETHEART!) and instead also includes all my insane 20k spiels of backstory stringing and talks about character writing but

(also. i do think it's funny how popular slinkman is in comparison, i love him just as much, but i actually see people mention really liking slinkman pretty frequently if someone happens to posts about camp lazlo which is GOOD because he DESERVES IT MAJORLY but the lumpus bug has Also caught me something awful even though i hate him and he sucks so i'm alone adrift in the world out here...)

edited this just for him

[pa-pa-plasma]

i don't think i'll ever get over how people treat kids that aren't good in school as worthless no matter what. "oh it can't be that bad" my guy idk how to tell you this but the last time i went to a normal high school the principal called me into his office to brag about how he failed me in all of my classes before the semester was even finished & i should quit while i'm ahead cuz i'm too stupid ("officially" diagnosed as such by a school counselor & a psychiatrist!!) to succeed. & this is considered normal

[wantonlywindswept]

me: hmm who to romance who to romance

me: gets to the party scene

me: wait why is everyone all ready for sex now I BARELY KNOW YOU

[rouge-fauna]

I think you’re talking about these posts [here & here], I don’t know if there have been others.

I'm not gonna say what I did was right, you are correct I should probably just not respond to asks getting me to talk about other people. I will say for these two posts those people had already blocked me I’m pretty sure, so it’s kinda hard to talk directly to them in that case. And I was not doing so anonymously and had not blocked them so I wasn’t hiding what I was saying. I did not follow them, I am not part of the innitor community, and not that that makes it right but I do think it is kinda different. Though you make a good point, perhaps we should stop this pattern of responding to asks about other blogs and such.

Still, the biggest thing to me I realized, back in elementary school when I first dealt with this, was that honestly all the time we talk about people behind their back. Talking about people when they aren’t always in the room is kinda just inevitable and part of socializing, however I think the important part is how you are talking about other people. It’s when you are insulting them, talking negatively about them to people they know, spreading false information and so on that it becomes not okay. Hopefully that makes sense.

In these cases I merely focused on the lore. I didn’t insult them or talk shit about them, as a person, as a blog or say their takes were stupid or they are stupid or speculate about their trauma or mental history. I just talked about reasons why I disagreed, or saw things differently and why we might see things differently. They were also not the only ones I saw to say similar things so I think in my mind I was making more of a general discussion, not trying to target them specifically. I didn’t post beyond that about them. But you are right, regardless it was probably not the right way to go about things.

But just to be clear, if I am a hypocrite it is not my intention. I haven’t vague blogged anyone or meant to vague reblog anyone. I think this week is pretty much the first time I’ve ever been not naming, passive aggressively talking about blogs, and even then I’m not trying to insult them, trying to cancel them. I’m just expressing that before you go off about how I’m stupid and unable to have a discussion about it, the very least you could’ve done was give me an opportunity to try.

[gigantomachylesbian]

Guys. I did not know before now that writing could be painfully millennial in a full prose book but the pho*nix ke*per has proven me wrong and I have to complain about it in the tags

[not-brionnnne]

hey has anyone ever considered doing shinjiro smut for after the fade to black but he lays you across his lap, like has anyone ever considered the canon praise kink with him more—shinjiro who scolds you, calls you trouble and tells you to stay close to him like a "good girl", shinjiro who acts tough, pretends to be fed up with you pushing him around (he loves it, but that doesn't mean you're not gonna hear about it), ignoring what he wants, so two can play that game, and you think, god, he's not holding back anymore, he's going to kiss me, finally, we're going to— but no, he settles on his bed and pats his lap and tells you that you need to "take responsibility" for teasing him like that, messing with his feelings — "be a good girl." remember, you started this.

[valvesoftware]

breakups are so fucking weird. three years and just like that it's gone. huh

[caterpillarinacave]

You gather your nerves a moment, which is fair, strange doors have not been so innocuous for you as of late, then creep up to the establishment and push open the door, it gives easily and quietly you slip in, behind the door is small hallway with thick curtains you brush aside, you're looking at a small illuminated room that you would guess is the entrance to the museum, but there's no one manning the front, you call out and knock on the desk yet no answer, you've already come this far so you go further in.

At first it's just pictures on the walls in moderately open spaced windowless rooms, the pictures themselves are interesting, supposed creatures sighted, this places versions of UFO's and Bigfoot's, but also nothing you haven't flipped past in the books you've been searching, the next room is the same and you're beginning to feel the weight of your trespassing misconduct the longer you linger, the museum seems to be set up in a circle so if you keep going forward you should end up back at the front so you move on, the next room has a large curtained off display that takes up most of the back wall, your curiosity piqued you move to pull aside the curtain, the fabric is soft and slides beneath your fingers, you raise it just enough to see a picture on the wall of a strange landscape, short blue and grey plants and a dusty pink sky, in the picture is a smiling man holding a book and looking passed the camera, on his jacket dangles a white key...

"May I ask for an explanation?! Our door is closed for the night hours."

You drop the curtain and turn to find an older gentleman looking at you from across the room, he seems irritated and mildly alarmed, you hurriedly apologize and explain the door was open and rush to ask about the display behind the curtain, he is not impressed with your questions and asks that you leave, realizing your unfortunate situation you acquiesce and ask for the hours you can visit instead, he gives you a time and pointedly tells you the cost of the entrance fee as well, you head back to your friends place, your heart in your throat, this is the closest you've been to figuring out what to do next in almost a week, the itchy paranoia of last worlds government catching you shadowing your every move.

You reach your friends place, they're still out probably picking up dinner, you are still caught off guard at times by how similar this place is to your world, sure their versions of things are a little odd, the tv is circular, doorframes rounded out, other little oddities, it's all so similar though you may as well just be in another country maybe, with a strange accent.

You decide to take this moment to add to your journal and look over your things, while you did a quick inventory check when you first got here you haven't checked the items themselves until now.

Your walkie crackles when you flip it on, same as ever.

Your phone remains serviceless but fills its charge when you turn it on and off. Interestingly you notice it trying to pick up a wifi signal and when you check there seem to be a couple networks nearby, locked though.

The funnel still amplifies the noises around you and you hear the neighbors discussing something on the tv next door as clearly as if they were speaking to you. When you look through the funnel you don't notice anything. You hold it back up to your ear listening to all the different things around you and pull out the spinning top, as soon as the top hits the table the noise disappears, confused you look at the funnel and then listen again, but no noise, the top falls over and the noise returns. Strange.

The berries taste fresh and make you feel better, but you are running low even though you resupplied a bit before leaving.

The dog tags seem unchanged and your key and whistle seem the same as ever.

When your friend gets back you ask about the wifi, they call it something else, but once you parse it out they help you set it up. Your phone can now access their version of the internet so your friend shows you a program to message them just in case. They also give you a device to keep in your pocket that connects you to the wifi wherever you go, so you can contact them while you're out and about. You tell them about the museum you saw earlier, how you think it may be a lead, and the old man running the place. They seem excited for you and make plans to join you tomorrow to go see it.

You go to bed that night thinking of your plans for the morning and turn over the strange dreams or images you remember from when you passed through the door. You slip off into an uneasy sleep, gold threads weave from dream to dream until you stand before an open doorway of light, something about this doorway is wrong though, you can feel it, you reach out to touch, the crackles of energy electrifying the air...someone reaches out and stops you, you can't see their face but you hear them as if through water. You can almost make out the words...you know they're speaking to you, you just can't hear it well enough.

You turn to them, but you still can't see anything but their lips, it looks like their telling you to stop...to go...you can't make it out.

"...op...ea...G...ome!"

With that last echoing and indecipherable shout you awaken to the dark room, the walkie crackling from where you left it.

"S....l....o...h..." You fumble with it a second but the sounds die out no longer sounding like anything but static again. You don't end up sleeping much after that.

The next day you both head out to go to the museum. You take a minor detour to check the Door, but when you get close you see the alley has been blocked off, you notice some people from the last dimension around, their odd features sticking out to you but hidden away to fit in with the locals.

You cross the street with your friend and try to stay inconspicuous. Probably best stay away from here going forward.

You guys make it to the museum and head inside where the old man from last night mans the desk, your friend pays for the tickets and he hands them to you along with a pamphlet.

You don't bother looking at all the things you saw last night, your friend follows though obviously intrigued by the pictures. You reach the curtained wall and pull back the fabric, but find there's nothing there, dusty spots frames may have hung and empty tables where things had obviously been displayed are all that's left.

In shock you stand confused, your friend catches up and looks behind the curtain curious, you explain it's all gone, they seem befuddled as well. Obviously the content behind the curtain has been moved but it can't be far right? Maybe it's just in the back. Either way, it feels like someone is hiding something from you. You notice a door leading to the back that's for employee's.

Do you go through the door?

yes