Chapter Text
Post Singapore Grand Prix 2025
Oscar was in a place he didn’t recognize. Yes, the race was over, but his brain was numb and body was on autopilot. He couldn’t think, couldn’t feel. The anger had been drained out of him during the 62 laps of the Singapore Grand Prix and now all he felt was numb. He wanted to cry but the tears wouldn’t come. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, but he has media duties to fulfil. He could hear Zak congratulating him, but the sound of his voice made him cringe and he promptly cut off the radio.
Sophie, his press officer, caught up to him immediately and handed him a bottle of water. She had a grim expression on her face despite them winning the constructor’s championship. She gave him a few minutes of silence as he gulped down the bottle of water. The silence felt like a small blessing that she was bestowing upon him, and he silently thanked her.
Alas, the silence didn’t last long. Before he knew it, he was heading into the media pen alongside Sophie. He received a few sympathetic smiles on his way to the media pen while Sophie briefed him on media-friendly answers to address the whole Lap one disaster. Well, he was the only one who saw it as a disaster, that much was made clear both by his team and the FIA. But he knew the journalists would dig this shit so much. He didn’t have any fight left in him today so he just absent-mindedly nodded along to whatever Sophie was saying. Because honestly, he just wanted to go back to his hotel, eat a bunch of chocolate, drown in some alcohol and go to bed. Maybe he could call Logan and ask him about how his IMSA debut was. He missed Logan, after all he was his only real friend on the grid. He was the Daniel Ricciardo to his Max Verstappen.
As he was waiting in queue for his interview behind Carlos, he heard some commotion coming from the television screen behind him. He turned around to be greeted with a sight of the Papaya team on the podium celebrating. Alongside Lando. His Lando. Without him. He had conveniently forgotten about Oscar along with the rest of the team. With that, the feelings of anger, resentment and anguish all came back rushing to him. He forced himself to tear his eyes off the screen to prevent himself from doing something stupid and out of character like pulling an Ocon-Verstappen Brazil 2018.
He walked to the interviewer and was asked all the questions that he expected. He answered them on autopilot, just the way Sophie had instructed him to do. He never voiced his true feelings on the incident, because honestly, he didn’t want to revisit those feelings himself. It’d hurt him too much to do that. Maybe he could work them out with his therapist first. Again, he didn’t want to pull Ocon-Verstappen 2018. Partly because he didn’t have enough energy to do that and partly because he didn’t have Max’s boldness.
He genuinely just wanted to get out of the paddock and was already making plans about the kind of chocolates he is going to get before Tom, his race engineer said something to him which made him snap out of his thoughts. He hadn’t registered his presence let alone hear a single word of what he said. “Sorry, what was that again?”
“I asked you how you were feeling Oscar”, Tom asked with a look of concern on his face. “The fact that you have to ask me how I feel tells me that you know my answer to your question”, Oscar rolled his eyes at the stupidity of the question. Tom shook his head saying, “I know you’re upset, Oscar but the team carefully reviewed the footage, and it was clear that Lando was-”
Oscar, however, cut him off before he could finish and snapped at Tom. “Enough about Lando. It's always about him, isn’t it? I don’t even want to be a part of this conversation right now. I just want to get over with the celebration photos and go back to the hotel so don’t even try to talk to me about this.” Tom opened his mouth to say something but he realized he was fighting a losing battle, so he just tapped Oscar’s shoulder and walked away.
He walked to the celebrations; a PR-friendly smile plastered across his face which didn’t reach his eyes. Mentally, he was counting down the minutes until he could leave. He ran into Mark, his manager, on the way who was intelligent enough to understand his mood and just pat his back (after all, he had been involved in Multi 21 himself). He walked over to the team on the right without letting his eyes stare at Lando too much, else it’d look like a death glare. He didn’t speak to Andrea or Zak either, just his mechanics who shared the same mood as he did and he was grateful to see at least some people stand in solidarity with him. It wasn’t a lot but it was enough to make Oscar feel slightly better.
He didn’t spray Lando and Lando didn’t spray him either. He momentarily forgot about Lando’s existence until social media and the marketing team called them over to film their post-race debrief for social media. It was the first time he properly looked at Lando today. He looked radiant, nothing short of a Greek god. His eyes shone bright with the bask of victory and a smile so bright that it nearly blinded him. Lando was truly like the sun. He has always been. The human personification of Apollo himself. His boyfriend.
Well, Lando was feeling less like his boyfriend every day. He could recall his 2023 rookie season where he basically followed Lando around like a lost puppy, desperate to savor any attention that his teammate may bestow upon him. He also remembered Singapore 2024 where he had almost kissed Lando on the podium since their first constructors’ hopes were starting to shape up. Hell, he had always been a big Lando fanboy since his feeder series days. But now standing here in the same place a year later, everything felt different. He wasn’t that same boy anymore. He wasn’t in Lando’s shadow anymore. He was his own person. A real contender for his first very real WDC title.
“Hey Osc!”, he said in that classic playful Lando voice completely oblivious to Oscar’s internal turmoil. Usually, it’d make his heart flutter but today, it made his stomach churn with acid. Lando could probably read his grim expression and wanted to ask him what was wrong, but Oscar broke the silence first. He managed a relatively calm tone which was a stark contrast to everything he was feeling. He even surprised himself at the calmness but the tension in his voice was still present. “Let’s save the talking for later and get on with recording the debrief.”
They tried recording the debrief but the tension clearly bled through no matter how hard Oscar tried to pull his classic “heart eyes Piastri” face. What had once come so easily to him, now felt like a façade. Lando, clearly noticing the tension, whined, “Oscahh, what’s gotten into you today? We just won and you’re pulling a long face.”
Is that the question Lando was really asking him? Really? Oscar wanted to yell at him and spill all the anger that he was bottling up. He cliched his fists so tight that his knuckles turned white. Everyone around them could sense the tension. To make the debrief go smoother, Andrea joined them for the video and stood between Lando and Oscar making Oscar grateful for the distance that he so desperately needed. Lando spoke first and then Oscar. He rattled off the script that was handed to him and they quickly shot the debrief in a couple of minutes. He quickly took a picture with a couple of his mechanics for the Mclaren social media. There were just six of them in the picture, but it was enough. They were the only ones that supported him.
Before he could get roped into anything else, Oscar decided to turn around and walk away. And honestly, no one even focused on Oscar. They were too busy celebrating the championship with Lando. Lando had always thrived in the attention more than Oscar had. Oscar never really cared too much about it before but now he could start to see unfairness in everything. After all, Lando was the sun. And when the sun shone, the stars faded.
He changed out of his fireproofs and quickly showered before hailing a taxi and getting the hell out of there. He pulled his cap lower and hoped and prayed that no one in the hotel stopped him for a picture or autograph because he really wasn’t feeling like it and he didn’t want to make the experience bad for the fans.
Once he made it to his room, he kicked off his shoes and headed to the mini fridge. He found a couple of cans of Vodka Cranberry. It wasn’t his favorite type of alcohol, but he decided to make do with it. He also wanted to order some chocolate and real food, so he took out his phone to install the local food delivery app. He settled on a Pizza and garlic bread which was his usual post-race meal before tossing his phone aside and waiting for the delivery. He slowly sipped his drink while he looked out of the window staring at everything and nothing at once.
On a regular occasion, he’d appreciate the beautiful lights of Singapore but today they felt like needless fripperies. He didn’t know how long he stared outside the window when a sharp knock broke his trance. His stomach was churning, and he desperately hoped for some food to calm down the juices churning in his stomach. Also, alcohol on an empty stomach was never a good idea. He set his drink down on the nightstand and rushed towards the door. What he didn’t expect was to be greeted by Lando’s blue green eyes that looked at him intently.
Out of habit, Oscar stepped aside and let Lando in without ceremony, which he later mentally yelled at himself for. He didn’t know what to say and wasn’t ready to speak to anyone. Especially Lando. He was still mad at him, and he felt hurt. Lando broke the silence first.
“Congratulations Oscar, we just won a championship! Back-to-back babyyyy!!!! We should celebrate! I see you’ve already popped some cans without me. Not fair!” as he threw his hands across Oscar’s shoulders and buried his face in the crook of his neck. Oscar was taken aback but he didn’t hug him back. Lando noticed. He always did. Especially when all the attention was not on him. “What’s up with you Oscar? Why are you acting all weird? You have barely looked at me all day today.”
That made him snap. He never asked Oscar how he was feeling. It always had to be about Lando. Lando only noticed something was off because Oscar didn’t look at him. Unbelievable. “Are you seriously congratulating me on losing a championship? It’s always about you, isn’t it? Celebrating you. Making your wins and podiums a big celebration when no one even bothers to congratulate me properly when I win. You fucking crashed into me Lando. You could’ve ended my race. Shame it didn’t work out for you. I bet you’d be proper happy if I had actually DNFed.”
Lando was taken aback. He hadn’t been expecting this kind of reaction from Oscar. Oscar never snapped like that before. Sure, he’d been upset before, like in Silverstone for instance. But never like this. He had always calmly spoken to the team and accepted whatever explanations they gave him. But today, it felt different. Oscar was actually challenging the team’s decision.
“Oh Oscar! C’mon don’t be silly. You know I would’ve overtook you regardless. There was a gap and I went for it. I was avoiding Verstappen and that’s why I made contact with you. You and I both know it wasn’t intentional.”, Lando tried to defend himself.
But Oscar was having none of it. “Oh please. You crashed into both your championship rivals in one single corner. Don’t call it a mistake when it was clearly intentional. You and I both know how happy you’d be if both Max and I DNF’ed. And it’d make sense for you to do that too since now everyone is talking about Max being in the championship fight as well. You tried to kill two birds with one stone. Also, if you were actually trying to avoid Max, you did a pretty shit job of avoiding since you ended up hitting us both. And I’m sure you wanted to impress your new girlfriend by taking out your contenders”.
“What bullshit are you even going on about? Oscar, you know that isn’t true. It was a mistake. Can you not cut me some slack for making a mistake? No one said anything to you when you crashed into the barriers in Baku. Some might say you cost us the constructor’s win last week. And don’t bring Magui into this. You and I both know that it’s all just for PR. You are my real boyfriend, Oscar.”
Oscar was beyond frustrated. Lando wasn’t even trying to understand his point of view. “Do you realize how hard you hit me? I barely avoided the barriers, not to mention how badly my neck was affected during the whole debacle. This happens every fucking week Lando. I’m genuinely tired of it all. When I win a race, you’re so fucking upset that it makes me feel guilty for winning races. And when you win, I have to hand over the fucking win to you? The team screws me over every single time because they can’t stand to see when their golden boy loses.”
Lando tried to argue, but Oscar shut him up. “I’m not done speaking Lando. Do not interrupt me. Everyone knew how clearly upset I was in Silverstone, yet no one said anything. They didn’t even fight for my penalty. Even Williams fought for Carlos’ penalty. Hell, even Red Bull fights tooth and nail for Max’s penalties. Mclaren didn’t even try. They tainted my first win with the Papaya rules bullshit. They have willingly given me the worse strategy on multiple occasions despite me qualifying ahead of you. When I won in Zandvoort, no one even congratulated me properly because they were hyper fixated on your DNF. I understand what happened was not great, but I deserve to be celebrated too. The list goes on. You know what happened in Monza this year. I complied with the team orders and this is what I get in return. Papaya rules only apply when they benefit you. This has happened far too many times to call it a coincidence”.
Oscar’s voice was straining on the line between anger and tears. But he wasn’t going to cry. Not now. Lando looked at him in shock. Oscar had never openly shared his feelings like this before. “Oscar, you’re blowing this out of proportion. You know the strategies were sheer luck. You promised me that the championship fight will not affect our relationship. You can’t be mad at me for the decisions that the team makes”.
“Are you going to blame you and the team for forgetting me on the podium celebrations on bad luck too? And we both promised each other that championship rivalry won’t affect our relationship. But it looks like you forgot about me first. You didn’t even bother to check up on how I was feeling. You only cared because I didn’t give you attention. I still congratulated you after Australia despite my race, but you didn’t even care to look in my direction after Zandvoort.”
“I don’t even know what to say, Oscar. I wanted to celebrate with you today, but I understand that your head is a little hot right now. You should sleep it off and we’ll be fine tomorrow.”
Oscar sighed with resignation. He closed his eyes for a moment. He knew what he was about to say next would change everything. He wasn’t ready for this part of the conversation. Not now, not ever. But it had to be done. All the liquid courage had loosened his tongue and he was definitely going to take advantage of that. He just felt that everyone secretly hated him. They sure behaved like it.
“Lando, I’m so fucking tired. Every day I beat myself up thinking about how you look at me when I win and you’ve had a bad race. It makes me want to tear my eyes out. It makes me feel guilty for racing, the one thing that I love so very much. It’s so hurtful to see you remember me and love me only when I’m not winning. I love you so much Lando and I care about you so much. But it’s killing me. Caring for you drains me so much because I get none of that care in return. Not from you, not from the team. It’s so easy for you to forget me.”
“Osc… you know it’s not like that.”
“I’ve always been fascinated with you, Lando since my F4 days. You were like my favorite celebrity. Hell, my then girlfriend was jealous of you. I put you on a pedestal. I followed you like a loyal disciple. I had my bedroom walls drowned in your posters. And when I became your teammate, it felt like an unachievable dream was fulfilled. And then I fell in love with you. Not as the celebrity Lando but the Lando that stayed up late nights reviewing data. The Lando that scrunches his nose at the sight of fish. You’re like the sun, Lando. The Mclaren world quite literally revolves around you. I always wanted to reach you, be close to you. I fell in love with the sun and flew too close to it. And now my wings are burning. The ones I spent my entire life building. I’m falling, Lando. And I have no one to catch me. You only care about me when I’m not winning. I cannot continue living like this. For my own sanity, I don’t think I can do this anymore. I’m done.”
“So you’re breaking up with me? Just like that? Bloody amazing. Suit yourself. You know what? People say that I’m the one who always whines and complains but that’s literally you. It’s not my fault that people like me more.”
“I’m literally just expressing my thoughts and you call that complaining. You only like it when things are on your side. This is why I never shared my thoughts with you. I can’t even communicate with you because you have your head up your ass. I’m tired of playing second fiddle to you. This whole argument tells me that we never fully understand each other in the first place. It’s best if we keep our distance from each other.”
“You know what? I don’t care. I don’t want to be seen anywhere near you anyways. Maybe you’re just frustrated that people have found out your real personality behind the ice cold Piastri façade and now when people don’t like the real you, you’re hating them for it. It’s literally not my fault that the team doesn’t like you. Your whole vibe screams unlikable.”
“Please leave Lando, I do not wish to speak to you any further.”
With that Lando turned around and slammed the door shut.
Oscar stood frozen, his feet remained planted to the ground. His brain was still trying to process the conversation that just took place. He gulped down five more cans of the Vodka cran which made the edges blur a little. His head felt floaty and he couldn’t feel anything but a dull ache.
The doorbell rang again. He got up to open the door half expecting it to be Lando. But it was his food. He quickly collected the food and muttered a small thanks to the delivery person. His appetite was long gone as he set the food down on the dining table and climbed into bed, letting the alcohol do its magic and take him under.