Chapter Text
Momths later, nothing dramatic happened.
No big confessions shouted across campus.
No catastrophic misunderstandings.
No heartbreak.
Just… this.
Comfort.
Routine.
Love growing quietly in the spaces between ordinary days.
⸻
Lando was sprawled across Oscar’s dorm bed, wearing one of Oscar’s hoodies (again), hair a mess, laptop balanced on his knees while he complained about an assignment.
“This is evil,” he declared. “Actual evil.”
Oscar watched from his desk, chin in his hand, completely distracted — not by his work, not by anything else, just by Lando.
“You’ve said that about every assignment.”
“Because they’re all evil.”
“You’re adorable.”
Lando squinted at him. “Stop that.”
“Never.”
⸻
Eventually the laptop was abandoned, because of course it was.
Lando slid off the bed and wandered across the room, climbing straight into Oscar’s lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Which, at this point, it was.
“You’re distracting me,” he mumbled, already curling into him.
“You came to me.”
“That’s not the point.”
Oscar wrapped his arms around him, pressing a soft kiss into his hair, breathing him in like this closeness was something precious.
“Stay,” he murmured.
Lando melted instantly.
“Okay.”
⸻
Across campus, their friends had stopped pretending this wasn’t permanent.
Alex and George ran bets on when the official labels would happen.
Charles just smiled fondly every time he saw them.
Max V. claimed he’d known from the beginning.
Max F. still acted exasperated — but he had stopped looking worried.
Because Lando wasn’t fragile anymore.
Not when he looked like this.
Soft. Happy. Safe.
⸻
One evening, golden sunlight spilled through the window as Lando dozed against Oscar’s chest, fingers loosely hooked in his hoodie like even in sleep he needed something to anchor him.
Oscar brushed his thumb over his knuckles.
“So clingy,” he whispered fondly.
Lando mumbled something unintelligible and pressed closer.
Oscar smiled.
Not the confident party-boy smile everyone knew.
Something softer. Realer.
Something only Lando got to see.
Mine, his heart said.
Not as a claim.
As a promise.
To protect.
To stay.
To choose him, every time.
He pressed a kiss to the top of Lando’s head.
“Love you,” he whispered into his curls.
Lando didn’t wake.
But his fingers tightened slightly in Oscar’s hoodie.
Like he’d heard anyway.
And that was enough.
⸻
A few weeks later.
Lando had fallen asleep sometime between complaining about thermodynamics and stealing the blanket completely. Now he lay sprawled across Oscar’s chest, one arm thrown over his waist, curls tickling Oscar’s chin with every slow breath.
Oscar didn’t move.
Didn’t dare.
Outside, campus life hummed faintly — distant laughter, a passing car, music from somewhere far away. Ordinary life continuing without them.
Inside, everything felt quiet.
Sacred, almost.
Oscar traced slow circles on Lando’s back, watching the way his lashes rested against his cheeks, the tiny crease between his brows that never fully disappeared.
God, he thought. How did I get here?
Because there had been a time — not even that long ago — when this version of him didn’t exist.
Before Lando, Oscar Piastri had been easy.
Easy smiles. Easy hookups. Easy exits.
Nothing stuck.
Nothing lasted.
Nothing mattered enough to hurt.
People liked him because he was fun. Because he didn’t ask for anything real. Because he never stayed long enough to complicate things.
Clubs every weekend.
Strangers in his bed.
Names forgotten by morning.
He used to think that was freedom.
No expectations.
No vulnerability.
No risk.
Just noise and distraction and the illusion of being wanted without ever truly being known.
He hadn’t been lonely.
Just… empty in a way he didn’t have words for.
⸻
And then one Saturday night, on a crowded dance floor full of flashing lights and spilled drinks and strangers he would never remember…
He saw a boy who looked like he wanted to disappear.
Curled in on himself at the bar, pretending to sip a drink he clearly didn’t want, eyes darting toward the exit every few seconds like he was planning an escape.
Messy curls.
Wide blue-green eyes.
Soft mouth, nervous hands.
Adorable.
Different.
Oscar had gone over without thinking.
Just another conversation. Just another pretty stranger to flirt with.
Except it hadn’t been like that at all.
Because Lando hadn’t leaned closer.
Hadn’t played along.
Hadn’t treated Oscar like someone impressive.
He’d just been… honest.
Awkward.
Sweet.
Real in a way that made Oscar suddenly aware of how artificial everything else was.
He could still remember the moment something shifted — when Lando admitted he didn’t even like clubs, that he was only there because his best friend had dragged him out.
If Max F. hadn’t insisted…
If Lando had stayed home…
If Oscar had gone somewhere else…
If either of them had left ten minutes earlier…
They would never have met.
One tiny push.
One reluctant yes.
One stupid decision to socialize.
And suddenly Oscar’s entire life tilted onto a different path.
⸻
Lando stirred, face pressing deeper into Oscar’s chest, breath warm through the fabric of his shirt.
Oscar’s heart squeezed painfully.
This boy.
This shy, stubborn, brilliant, impossibly kind boy who blushed when complimented, stole hoodies like it was a personality trait, and looked at Oscar like he was something more than a temporary distraction.
Lando hadn’t tried to change him.
Hadn’t demanded anything.
He’d just… existed.
Soft where Oscar was sharp.
Careful where Oscar was reckless.
Honest where Oscar hid behind charm.
And slowly, quietly, without drama or ultimatums…
Oscar had started wanting different things.
Quiet nights instead of loud ones.
One person instead of many.
Something real instead of something easy.
He started staying in.
Started remembering details.
Started caring — actually caring — about whether his actions might hurt someone.
He even started doing things the old version of him would have mocked.
Like stopping at the florist every single week.
Flowers, every Friday.
No special occasion.
No anniversary.
No reason at all.
Just because he loved him.
Because the way Lando’s face lit up — surprised every time, like he couldn’t believe someone would do something so soft just for him — felt better than any crowded club ever had.
Oscar Piastri, who once forgot names by morning, now knew Lando’s favorite flowers, his coffee order, the way he liked his hoodies oversized, the tiny habits that made him uniquely him.
All because of one boy who walked into a club like he didn’t belong there and somehow ended up belonging everywhere Oscar was.
⸻
Max F. had glared at Oscar the first few times they met, protective in a way that made perfect sense now.
He had been guarding something precious.
Something fragile.
Something worth protecting.
And Oscar had almost ruined it once.
The memory still made his stomach twist.
Seeing Lando cry.
Knowing he’d caused it.
Realizing how much losing him would hurt.
That had been the moment Oscar understood this wasn’t temporary.
Not a fling.
Not a crush.
Not something he could walk away from.
Love.
Terrifying, inconvenient, irreversible love.
⸻
Lando made a soft sound in his sleep, fingers tightening in Oscar’s hoodie again.
Oscar smiled, brushing a curl from his forehead.
“You changed everything,” he whispered.
Not in a dramatic way.
In a quiet, steady one.
Like sunlight filling a dark room.
Like warmth returning to numb hands.
Like learning, piece by piece, what it meant to stay.
He pressed a gentle kiss into Lando’s hair.
“Best thing that ever happened to me.”
Outside, the world kept moving — parties, exams, heartbreaks, beginnings, endings.
Inside, Lando slept safely in his arms, exactly where he wanted to be.
And for the first time in his life, Oscar didn’t feel restless.
Didn’t feel bored.
Didn’t feel like he was waiting for something better.
He had already found it.
All because one boy’s best friend dragged him into a club he never wanted to go to.
Funny how something so small could change everything.
Oscar closed his eyes, holding him a little closer.
Not mine as a possession.
Mine as in chosen.
Mine as in home.
Mine as in the person I will keep choosing, every single day.
Lando shifted, half-awake, and mumbled against his chest:
“…love you.”
Barely conscious. Completely honest.
Oscar’s breath caught.
He pressed his cheek to Lando’s curls, smiling into the quiet.
“Love you more, sweetheart.”
Lando didn’t wake.
But his fingers tightened in Oscar’s hoodie again — anchoring himself there, even in sleep.
And this time, there was no fear in Oscar at all.
Only certainty.
Only warmth.
Only the quiet, extraordinary knowledge that one accidental night had led him exactly where he was meant to be.
Home.