Archive of Our Own ^beta

Lando had planned for a peaceful morning.

Instead, it was barely eight a.m., and he was covered in sticks.

He’d set his alarm for three in the morning — a decision that had felt poetic and productive at the time. There was a specific hill just outside the city where the sunrise hit perfectly, and he’d been determined to catch it. Golden light. Soft clouds. The kind of photo that would look effortless on Instagram, even though it required an absurd amount of effort.

The early wake-up had been worth it. The sky had melted into orange and pink exactly the way he’d hoped. He’d taken dozens of photos, adjusting angles, exposure, framing. By the time he packed up his camera and headed home, he felt accomplished.

That should have been the end of it.

But as he reached his apartment building and fished his keys from his pocket, he spotted it.

A bird.

Not just any bird — a stunning one, perched on the branch of a small tree near the entrance. Its feathers caught the light in a way that practically begged to be photographed.

Lando hesitated for exactly half a second.

Then he dropped his bag by the front door of his apartment — which he had just unlocked — and ran back outside.

He didn’t even think about the fact that his door was now wide open.

Didn’t think about the fact that anyone could walk in.

Didn’t think at all, really.

He climbed the small tree with more determination than skill, one hand gripping his camera while the other searched for balance. The branch wobbled beneath him, but he managed to steady himself long enough to snap a few shots.

One of them had to be perfect.

He adjusted slightly to get a better angle.

That was his mistake.

His foot slipped.

For one suspended, weightless second, he thought, Oh. That’s unfortunate.

Then he fell straight into the bush below.

The landing was loud. Leaves exploded around him. Twigs tangled in his hair. Something scratched his arm. He lay there for a moment, staring up at the sky, wondering how a day that had started so aesthetically was now so aggressively not.

“This is fine,” he muttered to himself.

He untangled himself from the bush with as much dignity as possible — which was to say, none — brushed off what he could, and headed back upstairs.

That’s when he remembered.

The door.

His stomach dropped.

He’d left it open. Wide open. Unlocked. An open invitation to every potential robber in the building.

“Brilliant, Lando,” he muttered under his breath as he reached his apartment.

He slowed when he got close enough to hear something.

Voices.

Coming from inside.

His heartbeat spiked instantly, panic climbing up his spine. He knew better. He knew better. Who just leaves their apartment open and wanders off to climb a tree?

He was about two seconds away from a full-blown panic attack when something cut through the fear.

He recognized one of the voices.

Max.

Relief hit first — sharp and dizzying — followed quickly by confusion.

Why was Max in his apartment?

And who were the other two?

There was a male voice and a female voice he didn’t recognize. Not neighbors. Not anyone he could immediately place. He stood frozen outside his own doorway, trying to match the sounds to faces in his memory.

Nothing.

Taking a steadying breath, Lando stepped inside.

“Max?” he called, attempting to sound more composed than he felt. “Why are you in my apartment?”

Max appeared from the kitchen a second later, arms crossed, expression already bordering on disappointment. His eyes dragged over Lando from head to toe — the leaves in his hair, the dirt on his clothes, the scratch on his arm.

“What happened to you?” Max demanded. “And why did you think it was a good idea to leave your door wide open? Are you trying to get robbed?”

Normally, Lando would have defended himself immediately. He would’ve had some half-reasonable excuse ready.

But he barely heard him.

Because two figures stepped into view behind Max.

Two shadows at first.

Then faces.

Oscar Piastri.

And Lily Zneimer.

The air seemed to leave Lando’s lungs all at once.

His fingers twitched at his sides. He wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t hallucinating. He had just fallen out of a tree.

“I—” His voice came out rough, and he had to clear his throat. “Uh. Yeah. I was in a rush and forgot. I was trying to take a picture of a bird and then fell into a bush.”

He swallowed, finally forcing himself to look directly at Oscar. Then Lily.

“And why,” he asked, heart pounding against his ribs, “are they in my apartment?”

For a split second, he genuinely wondered if he was still lying in that bush — if this was some strange, concussion-induced dream.

Because there was no way the universe would play a joke like this.

Right?

The last time Lando had seen Oscar, they’d both still been seventeen.

It had been the second-to-last year of high school when Oscar arrived — quiet, observant, with an accent that immediately made half the class turn around. He was an exchange student from Australia, staying with Max and his family for the rest of high school.

Lando remembered the first day clearly. Oscar had stood at the front of the classroom, hands loosely clasped behind his back, offering a polite half-smile while the teacher introduced him.

He didn't look nervous.

Just calm.

Almost detached.

It annoyed Lando immediately.

So naturally, he decided they were going to be friends.

Oscar wasn’t at school much. That was the strange part. While everyone else worried about exams and football matches, Oscar would disappear for weekends — sometimes entire weeks — flying out to compete in junior formula categories. Italy. France. Germany. Wherever the next race was.

He’d return on Mondays sometimes with dark circles under his eyes and stories he only told if someone asked directly.

Lando always asked.

They started sitting together. Then studying together. Then spending most afternoons at Max’s house because that was where Oscar was staying. It became effortless — like they’d skipped the awkward early stage of friendship entirely.

Or at least, that’s how it felt to Lando.

Oscar wasn’t loud about his emotions. He didn’t dramatize things. But he listened. Really listened. He remembered small details. He showed up when it mattered.

And somewhere between late-night exam revision and waiting up for race results to post, Lando realized something had shifted.

It wasn’t just friendship anymore.

It was the way his chest tightened when Oscar laughed.
The way he memorized the curve of his smile.
The way he found excuses to stand a little too close.

It was inconvenient. Terrifying. Completely unplanned.

And absolutely undeniable.

He never said anything.

He told himself there would be time.

Then Lily came into the picture.

Not suddenly — she’d always been there. Oscar’s childhood best friend. They’d grown up together back in Australia. But she lived in England now, and every summer she’d come to visit.

The first time Lando met her, he’d prepared himself to dislike her.

He failed immediately.

Lily was warm in a way that made you feel chosen just for being in the same room. She teased Oscar effortlessly. Knew how to read him without asking. Finished his sentences. Had inside jokes that clearly stretched back years.

They had history.

The kind Lando couldn’t compete with.

He hated how jealous it made him feel.

Not because Lily did anything wrong — she was, infuriatingly, the kindest person on the planet — but because when she and Oscar stood side by side, they made sense. Easy. Natural.

Sometimes Lando would watch them and wonder if he’d misread everything.

If he’d imagined the late-night conversations meant more than they did.

If maybe Oscar had always belonged somewhere else.

By their final year of high school, everything moved faster.

Oscar signed his first Formula One contract before graduation.

Lando remembered the day the news broke. The way the school buzzed with it. The way Max had nearly tackled Oscar in excitement. The way teachers suddenly treated him differently.

He’d done it.

He’d achieved his dream.

Lando had stood there smiling, clapping, telling him how proud he was — and he meant it. He did.

But underneath the pride was something sharp and quiet.

Because Formula One meant travel. Fame. Time zones. A world that was so much bigger than the small hallways they’d shared.

And what was Lando supposed to say?

Hey, before you leave and become even more famous than you already are, I think I might be in love with you.

It felt selfish.

It felt stupid.

It felt too late.

Especially when there were moments — small ones — when he’d catch Oscar and Lily laughing together, heads bent close, and think maybe he’d already lost before he’d even tried.

So he stayed quiet.

They graduated.

Oscar left.

For the first few months, they kept in contact. Texts at odd hours. Voice messages sent from airports. Photos from race weekends. Lando would wake up to notifications and fall asleep drafting

replies.

But time zones are unforgiving.

Schedules are worse.

There were races. Interviews. Appearances. Training camps. Media obligations.

Messages became shorter.

Replies became delayed.

Then one day, they just… stopped.

No fight.

No dramatic ending.

Just distance stretching thin until it finally snapped.

And now, five — maybe six — years later, Oscar was standing in his apartment like none of that space had ever existed.

Like Lando hadn’t spent all that time wondering what would have happened if he’d just said something.

Seeing Oscar again brought up feelings Lando had been certain were long buried. Carefully packed away. Left somewhere in the past where they couldn’t ambush him in his own living room.

But seeing him standing next to Lily — close, easy, familiar — made something in his chest crack all over again.

“Yeah, I was calling you to tell you they’re in town,” Max explained. “But you weren’t picking up. Then Lily suggested we just drop by. And when we got here, your stuff was by the door and your apartment was wide open.”

Lando winced slightly. “Right. That.”

Max crossed his arms. “Do you have any survival instincts at all?”

“In my defense,” Lando said quickly, brushing leaves from his sleeve, “it was a really pretty bird.”

Oscar huffed out a quiet laugh before he could stop himself.

The sound hit Lando like a memory he hadn’t prepared for.

“You climbed a tree for a bird,” Oscar said.

“It was a small tree,” Lando corrected.

“You fell out of it.”

“I descended unexpectedly.”

Lily laughed softly. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thank you,” Lando said automatically, trying — very hard — to feel normal. To act normal. Like his heart wasn’t doing something irregular and inconvenient.

Oscar stepped a little closer, eyes scanning over the scratch on Lando’s arm. Not dramatic. Not intense. Just… checking.

“You okay?” he asked.

And there it was again. That tone. That steady, grounded concern.

“Yeah,” Lando said lightly. “Bush broke my fall. Very heroic shrub, honestly.”

Oscar shook his head, but he was smiling now — properly smiling — and Lando had to look away for a second to steady himself.

Five years.

And somehow it still felt easy.

Max sighed dramatically. “I cannot believe I let you live alone.”

“You didn’t let me,” Lando pointed out.

“Feels like I should’ve had a say.”

Lily glanced between them, amused. “Some things don’t change, apparently.”

“No,” Oscar agreed quietly.

Lando caught that. The way Oscar looked at him when he said it. Not distant. Not formal. Just… familiar.

It made something warm bloom in his chest before he could shut it down.

“So,” Lando said, clapping his hands together once as if resetting the mood, “you’re in town. That’s… unexpected.”

“We’ve got a few things here,” Oscar replied. “Meetings. Media stuff.”

“Very important, very famous things,” Lando nodded seriously.

Oscar’s smile twitched. “Sure.”

There was no heavy silence. No sharp edges. Just the strange awareness that they were older now — but still standing in the same space they used to occupy so easily.

Max looked between them and seemed satisfied that no one was actively combusting.

“Right,” he said, decisive as ever. “We’re going to dinner.”

Lando blinked. “Oh?”

“There’s a place down the street,” Lily added. “Max said it’s good.”

“It is good,” Max confirmed. Then he looked at Lando. “We were wondering if you wanted to come.”

The pause that followed wasn’t really a pause.

Because Max was already grabbing his keys.

“You’re coming,” he clarified.

Lando narrowed his eyes. “Was that ever optional?”

“No.”

Oscar’s mouth curved slightly at that.

Lando looked between the three of them — at Max’s stubborn certainty, at Lily’s soft expectation, at Oscar’s quiet, unreadable gaze.

Five years ago, he had let distance decide everything.

Tonight, apparently, he didn’t get to run.

“Fine,” he said, grabbing a hoodie from the back of a chair. “But if I find another bird on the way, I’m climbing something again.”

Max groaned. Lily laughed. Oscar just shook his head.

“Please don’t,” Oscar said.

And the way he said it — warm, familiar, almost fond — made Lando’s pulse skip in a way that felt dangerously like hope.

Oscar and Lily headed downstairs first.

“I’ll start the car,” Lily said lightly, nudging Oscar toward the door. “Before you all debate bird safety regulations again.”

Oscar glanced back once — just once — his eyes lingering on Lando for half a second too long.

Then they were gone.

The apartment fell quiet.

Max didn’t move toward the door.

Lando noticed immediately.

“…What?” Lando asked, already defensive.

Max didn’t answer right away. He leaned back against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, studying him.

“You’re staring,” Lando added.

“I’m thinking.”

“That’s worse.”

Max sighed. “You’re not subtle.”

Lando let out a short laugh. “About what?”

“About him.”

The word hung there.

Lando’s smile slipped — not dramatically, just enough.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said, too quickly.

Max raised an eyebrow. “Lando.”

Five years ago, Max had watched it all happen. The late-night conversations. The waiting up for race results. The way Lando’s mood depended a little too much on whether Oscar had texted back.

Max wasn’t stupid.

“You look at him the same way,” Max said calmly.

Lando’s throat tightened. “It’s been five years.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s not exactly a small amount of time.”

“And?”

Lando looked away, dragging a hand through his hair. “And people move on.”

Max was quiet for a moment. Then, softer, “Did you?”

The question landed heavier than anything else that night.

Lando didn’t answer immediately.

Because that was the problem.

He’d told himself he had.

He’d buried it under new cities, new routines, new people. Told himself it was just a stupid teenage crush that never got the chance to fully form.

But seeing Oscar again had felt less like reopening something…

And more like realizing it had never closed.

“I didn’t exactly get closure, did I?” Lando muttered.

Max’s expression shifted — less teasing now, more understanding.

“You never told him.”

It wasn’t an accusation. Just a fact.

Lando let out a breath through his nose. “He was leaving. Signing contracts. Traveling the world. What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, before you become extremely successful and inaccessible, I might be in love with you?’”

Max didn’t even flinch at the word.

Lando did.

The silence stretched.

“So you just let it die,” Max said.

“I didn’t let it die,” Lando shot back. “It just— life happened.”

“Mm.”

Lando narrowed his eyes. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Max said evenly, “you stopped fighting for it before it even had a chance.”

That stung.

“Wow. Thanks.”

“You asked.”

“No, I didn’t.”

Max pushed off the counter, grabbing his keys but not heading to the door yet.

“Do you know what the worst part was?” Max continued. “Watching you pretend it didn’t matter.”

Lando swallowed.

“He cared about you,” Max added.

Lando’s head snapped up. “You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

“How?”

“Because I lived with him.”

That shut Lando up.

Max’s voice wasn’t dramatic. Just certain.

“He’d come back from races exhausted, and the first thing he’d do was check his phone,” Max said. “You were the only person he consistently called. The only one he talked about from school.”

Lando’s heart started beating too fast again.

“He never said anything,” Lando whispered.

“Neither did you.”

The weight of that sat between them.

Downstairs, a car door shut.

Time was running out.

Max stepped closer, lowering his voice slightly. “I’m not saying you need to confess your undying love over dinner.”

“I don’t have—”

“Feelings,” Max cut in dryly. “Sure.”

Lando glared at him.

“I’m saying,” Max continued, “don’t waste another five years because you’re scared of what the answer might be.”

Lando looked toward the window.

Toward the car where Oscar was waiting.

Waiting.

“Do you think he and Lily—” Lando started, then stopped.

Max snorted softly. “No.”

“Just no?”

“They’ve been best friends since they were kids. That’s it.”

Lando searched his face for hesitation.

There wasn’t any.

“Besides,” Max added, heading toward the door now, “if he wanted Lily, he's had plenty of time.”

The implication was clear.

Max opened the door, then paused.

“And for the record,” he said without turning around, “you’re an idiot. But you deserve to at least know.”

With that, he walked out.

Lando stood alone for a second, heart pounding harder than it had when he’d fallen out of the tree.

Five years ago, he’d let fear make the decision for him.

Tonight?

He wasn’t sure he could survive doing that again.

He grabbed his hoodie and followed.

The front door clicked shut behind Max.

For a moment, Lando just stood there.

The apartment felt different now. Smaller. Charged. Like the air had shifted and he hadn’t adjusted yet.

He cared about you.

Max’s words replayed whether he wanted them to or not.

“Shut up,” Lando muttered to no one.

Dinner.

It was just dinner.

Not a life-altering confrontation. Not a dramatic confession under candlelight. Just food. Conversation. Normal, functional human behavior.

He could do normal.

Probably.

He looked down at himself — leaves still clinging to his hoodie, dirt smudged along his sleeve, a faint scratch on his arm.

Right.

Shower first. Emotional crisis second.

Twenty minutes later, steam still clinging to his skin, Lando stood in front of his closet in nothing but a towel and far too many thoughts.

Why did this feel like a first date?

It wasn’t.

It absolutely was not.

Oscar had seen him at seventeen with terrible hair and questionable fashion choices. This shouldn’t matter.

And yet.

He scanned through his clothes once. Twice.

Too casual.

Too try-hard.

Too formal.

Too “I didn’t think about this at all,” which was a lie.

His fingers stopped on a white button-down.

Simple. Clean. Effortless.

Safe.

He pulled it out before he could overthink it and paired it with black trousers. Sharp but not flashy. Like he was making an effort without screaming about it.

He dressed quickly — then paused in front of the mirror.

The shirt felt… too neat.

He reached up and undid the first button.

Stared at himself.

Undid the second.

Better.

Relaxed. Not stiff. Not desperate.

He rolled his sleeves once, then reconsidered and left them down.

God, he was spiraling.

“It’s dinner,” he told his reflection. “You’ve had dinner before.”

But not like this.

Not with someone who once occupied every quiet corner of your heart.

He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back, then let it fall naturally. The scratch on his arm was faint but visible. He debated covering it.

No. Let it be.

Let Oscar see it.

The thought made his stomach flip.

Why did he care if Oscar noticed?

Why did he hope he would?

He exhaled slowly and leaned his hands on the edge of the dresser.

Five years ago, he had stood in front of another mirror — graduation night — rehearsing words he never said.

Just tell him.

He hadn’t.

And then it had been too late.

His phone buzzed in his hand.

Max: We’re waiting.

Right. Of course they were.

He grabbed his jacket, hesitated, then put it back.

White shirt. Black trousers. That was enough.

As he headed toward the door, he caught his reflection one more time.

He looked older now. Sharper. More certain in some ways.

But his heart was pounding like he was seventeen again.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered.

Still, he locked the door carefully this time.

No running off. No climbing trees.

No more avoiding things.

The night air hit his skin as he stepped outside, and he could see the car parked under the streetlight.

Oscar in the passenger seat.

Waiting.

Lando swallowed, straightened his shoulders, and walked toward it — trying very hard to look like someone who wasn’t about to unravel over dinner.

The restaurant was warm, bathed in low golden light.

Max claimed his seat next to Lando. Lily slid in beside Oscar, leaving him directly across from Lando. Of course.

Menus opened. Drinks arrived. Max immediately launched into a long, over-the-top story about airport chaos, complete with wild hand gestures. Lily laughed, Oscar responded quietly with dry remarks, and Lando joined in when it felt safe, smiling at the right moments, laughing at the right jokes. He was good at pretending.

But the undercurrent of the evening — Oscar across from him, so familiar, so calm — made Lando’s pulse beat faster than it should.

“Max told me about the sunset incident,” Lily said casually, lifting her glass.

Lando froze just a fraction, then relaxed into a grin. “Traitor.”

Oscar’s gaze lifted immediately. “You broke your arm?”

“I did,” Lando admitted lightly, swirling his drink. “The sunset was… spectacular.”

Oscar’s mouth quirked slightly. “Worth it?”

“Totally,” Lando said with a shrug, trying to make it sound nonchalant. “Wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Oscar’s eyes lingered on him for half a second longer than necessary. Lando felt his chest tighten.

The conversation shifted naturally after that — travel schedules, mutual acquaintances, light teasing. Nothing heavy, nothing awkward — just ordinary.

At some point, Lily’s phone buzzed.

“Sorry, I need to take this,” she said.

Max stood immediately. “I’ll come with. Need to grab something anyway.”

Lando gave him a pointed look. Max ignored it.

Within moments, they were gone. The table felt quieter, smaller — leaving only Lando and Oscar.

“You seem… good,” Oscar said finally.

Lando smiled tightly. “Thanks. You too.”

A beat passed.

“So,” Lando said casually, carefully keeping his tone light, “you and Lily.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “What about us?”

“You’ve always been close,” Lando said, swirling his drink. “Even back then.”

“We have,” Oscar replied.

Lando nodded. “I remember thinking… you two could end up together.”

Oscar’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes lingered on Lando.

“We’re not dating,” he said simply.

Lando’s fingers tightened around his glass. “I know,” he admitted. “Max told me.”

Oscar’s lips twitched faintly — amusement or maybe just acknowledgment. “Of course he did.”

Silence fell for a moment, not awkward, just quiet.

“We’ve never been like that,” Oscar added. “Lily’s… Lily.”

The certainty in his voice made something loosen in Lando’s chest. He exhaled slowly. “Right,” he said, smiling lightly.

Oscar’s gaze stayed with him. “So… you needed to hear it?”

“Maybe,” Lando said smoothly, keeping his tone light. “Just confirming my suspicions.”

Footsteps approached. Lily’s voice floated back toward the table, then Max’s. The moment dissolved as naturally as it had arrived.

But something had shifted.

Because this time, Lando hadn’t asked to satisfy curiosity.

He’d asked because he needed to hear it from Oscar himself.

And now he had.

Across the table, Oscar looked at him differently — aware, thoughtful, quietly attentive.

he night had cooled by the time Lando made it back to his apartment. Streetlights cast long shadows on the sidewalk, the kind of quiet that made him acutely aware of his own thoughts.

He unlocked the door and stepped inside. The apartment was still — a soft hum of city life filtering through the windows — and for the first time since he’d left for dinner, he allowed himself to breathe.

He sank onto the edge of the sofa, still in his crisp white shirt, the first two buttons undone, sleeves rolled neatly down, black trousers pressed from earlier. He ran a hand through his hair, tired but wired, and stared blankly at the ceiling.

Oscar.

The name echoed in his head. The way he’d looked across the table — calm, steady, familiar, yet impossibly distant. The certainty in his words when he said Lily was just Lily, the way he’d said it so effortlessly, so matter-of-factly…

And still, Lando couldn’t shake it.

He knew it was true. Max had told him. They weren’t dating. He’d been told. He knew that. But hearing it from Oscar himself had landed differently. Had made it real.

A laugh escaped him quietly, soft and almost bitter. Of course he’d care. Of course he’d want to hear it from Oscar, directly, instead of relying on secondhand assurances. It was ridiculous.

He leaned back, letting the tension in his shoulders melt slightly. He thought of the subtle smile Oscar had given him across the table, the way his eyes lingered for just a fraction too long, as if measuring him.

Lando shook his head, running a hand down his face. He couldn’t help but wonder — five years ago, if he’d said something, done something, anything, could this have been different? Would he be sitting across from Oscar now, smiling like they were old friends, instead of quietly falling apart in his own head?

The thought made his chest tighten again. He’d told himself a hundred times that it didn’t matter, that life had moved on, that some things were better left in the past.

And yet, in the stillness of his apartment, the echoes of the night made him admit something even to himself: it did matter.

Oscar mattered. Always had. Always would.

Lando let out a slow breath, letting the city hum around him, and for a moment, allowed himself to hope. Not the big, reckless hope of youth, but the quiet kind. The kind that lingered, persistent and stubborn, like the memory of a sunset you could never quite capture in a photo — beautiful, fleeting, impossible to forget.

And somehow, tonight, that was enough.

The sunlight crept through the blinds, painting stripes across Lando’s floor. He lay in bed for a few moments, still wrapped in the warmth of the sheets and the memory of last night: the quiet certainty in Oscar’s words, the subtle weight of their conversation, the way his chest had tightened despite knowing the truth.

His phone rang, cutting through the morning haze.

Lando squinted at the screen.

Max

He answered, half awake. “Yeah?”

“Morning, sunshine!” Max’s voice was bright, insistent, full of energy. “I’ve got a party tonight — at my place. You in?”

Lando blinked, sitting up. “At your place?”

“Yeah. House. Drinks. People. Music. Fun. The usual,” Max said, running through the list like it was a sales pitch. Then he paused, smirking. “And yes, you’ll be happy to hear — Oscar and Lily are staying here too.”

Lando froze mid-breath. His chest tightened, a familiar mix of anticipation and nerves crawling back. “Right. Of course.”

Max chuckled through the phone. “I’m telling you now because I don’t ask — you’re coming. Be here around eight. Trust me, it’ll be fun. And yes, Oscar will be there, in case you were wondering.”

“Got it,” Lando said, running a hand through his hair. He hung up and leaned back against the headboard, exhaling slowly.

The reality of the night ahead settled over him. Oscar and Lily — both under the same roof, both in Max’s orbit — and him, expected to act casual. To talk. To laugh. To look like he wasn’t still tangled up in memories from years ago.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, staring at the floor for a moment. The morning light felt sharp against his skin, almost like it was urging him forward. He got up and started moving automatically, running a hand over his shirt and black trousers — the same ones he’d worn last night — thinking about the party, about Oscar, about the subtle tension he already felt coiling in his chest.

Max’s words echoed: Oscar will be there.

A small, almost imperceptible thrill ran through him. He was nervous, yes. But for the first time in a long while, he felt the kind of excitement that made him want to push forward, to see, to test the possibilities.

The day stretched ahead of him, and by eight, he’d be walking back into the orbit of someone he hadn’t stopped thinking about — someone he still wanted to hear from directly, someone he still wasn’t sure he could resist.

And somehow, that thought alone made the morning feel electric.

The clock ticked louder than it had any right to as Lando stood in front of his closet, hands hovering over hangers like they could decide for him. Eight o’clock wasn’t far away, and yet he felt like he had hours to prepare and not a second to waste.

He tugged at his hair, running a hand through it for the third time. The memory of dinner last night lingered — Oscar’s quiet certainty, the soft curve of his smile, the way his eyes had held Lando’s just a second too long.

He shook his head. Calm down.

Clothes. Right. Clothes mattered.

He pulled out his white fitted t-shirt, simple but sharp, and held it up. Then the casual shirt — loose, patterned subtly, open, just enough to look effortless — and finally the black jeans. Baggy, but not too baggy; the perfect kind of loose that looked intentional and stylish without being sloppy.

He got dressed slowly, smoothing the casual shirt over the t-shirt, tugging the jeans into place, and checking the fit in the mirror. His reflection looked like him — relaxed, stylish, confident — but the chest-tightening nerves and fluttering anticipation reminded him of how little he truly felt in control.

A faint scratch along his arm from chasing sunsets last week peeked out. He left it exposed. Let Oscar notice. Let him see all of it.

He tugged lightly at the sleeves, ran a hand through his hair, and studied himself again. The outfit wasn’t just clothes — it was armor. Effortless armor for the storm of seeing Oscar and Lily tonight.

He laced up his shoes carefully, grabbed his jacket, and finally exhaled. No running. No hiding. Tonight he would show up. Face the past. Face the present. Maybe even face a future he hadn’t dared imagine.

The apartment smelled faintly of coffee from the morning, but it didn’t calm him. The thought of Max’s party, of Oscar and Lily under the same roof, made his pulse quicken.

Lando stepped toward the door, hesitated, then exhaled sharply and locked it behind him. The night was just beginning, and he had no idea how far this could go.

The lights of Max’s house glimmered through the trees as Lando’s car rolled up the driveway. Music thumped faintly from inside, a warm, pulsing backdrop to the nerves tightening in his chest.

He stepped out, adjusting the open casual shirt over his white t-shirt and tugging slightly at the baggy black trousers — as if the small act could steady him. The cool night air hit him, sharp and alive, and he took a deep breath. You’ve got this. Just act normal.

But normal felt impossible.

He pushed open the door and immediately heard the familiar sound of laughter — light, effortless, unmistakably Lily’s. A few steps down the hallway, and then — Oscar.

Oscar was leaning casually against the counter, glass in hand, relaxed and composed. His eyes lifted as Lando entered, catching him instantly, as if he’d been waiting to see him.

Lando’s chest tightened. His stomach twisted in that old, familiar way. He tried to step in with a casual grin, to act like nothing had changed, but the instant eye contact made his heartbeat accelerate anyway.

“Finally decided to join us,” Max said from across the room, loud and teasing, as if he hadn’t noticed the subtle storm brewing just by the doorway.

Lando nodded, forcing himself to smile. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Oscar’s eyes followed him, quiet and steady, but not intrusive. Just aware. Lando’s fingers itched for something — a word, a look, anything — and he realized he wanted Oscar to acknowledge the tension, to see him, to confirm that this wasn’t just him overthinking.

Lily spotted him next and waved warmly. “Hey, Lando! Over here!”

Her presence made his chest tighten even more. She was effortless as ever, kind, smiling, radiant. He forced himself to take a deep breath and respond casually. “Hey, Lily.”

Max clapped him on the shoulder. “Glad you’re here. Oscar, Lando’s here.”

Oscar gave a small nod, setting down his glass. The faint curve of a smile tugged at his mouth. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Lando replied, louder than necessary.

A quick, subtle glance at Lily reminded him she was still there, close, smiling at something Max had just said. And for a moment, he felt the familiar sting of jealousy — a flash from high school that had never really gone away.

He told himself to calm down, to act normal. He walked further in, subtly adjusting his baggy trousers, running a hand through his hair. Just breathe. You’re fine. You’re fine.

But he knew he wasn’t.

Because Oscar was here. And Lily was here. And all the feelings he thought he had buried — admiration, longing, frustration — had resurfaced the moment he stepped through the door.

And tonight, Lando realized, nothing about this night would be simple.

By now, the music was louder, pulsing through the house like it had a life of its own. Lando had just finished a conversation with Oscar and Lily — nothing heavy, mostly catching up, teasing each other over memories from years ago, jokes about racing schedules, and playful jabs at Max.

Lando laughed, smiled, even contributed to the teasing, but under the surface, his chest still felt tight. Every glance from Oscar, every easy laugh shared with Lily, reminded him how much he still cared, how much he’d tried — and failed — to forget.

He stepped away, claiming he needed a refill, and made his way to the kitchen. The drinks were already lined up, chilled and glinting in the low light. He poured himself one, then two, then three, telling himself it was just to loosen up, just to have fun.

By the fourth, the tension in his shoulders had melted away. By the fifth, his thoughts of Oscar and Lily had blurred at the edges, hazy and distant. He laughed louder than he needed to, danced a little more freely, leaned into conversations with strangers and acquaintances alike.

He let the alcohol carry him through the rooms, over the music, into the chaos of the party. For a little while, he forgot about the tight ache in his chest, the longing that had been there since the moment he’d stepped through Max’s door.

He clinked glasses with Max, shouted over the music to a group by the living room, even danced along with a song he didn’t particularly like — anything to feel like he wasn’t thinking, like he wasn’t tethered to the way Oscar made him feel.

And for those few hours, it worked.

He forgot about the quiet certainty in Oscar’s eyes last night, the way hearing the truth from him had hit differently than Max’s warnings ever could. He forgot about the way Lily’s presence made his chest twist, the faint jealousy he couldn’t quite suppress.

Tonight, Lando was just Lando. Laughing. Moving. Drinking. Living in the rhythm of the music, letting the world spin around him.

And for the first time in a long while, he didn’t think about Oscar at all.

The music had long faded behind him, replaced by the distant hum of the city and the occasional shout from the remaining partygoers as Lando stumbled down the sidewalk in front of Max’s house. His legs felt heavier than they should, his balance just off, and the world tilted slightly with every step.

He swayed, letting his jacket slide from his shoulders, and muttered under his breath, “Why did I have to drink so much…”

The laughter, the teasing, the casual glances between Oscar and Lily — they’d all looped in his mind, relentless, despite the alcohol trying to numb him. He had fun tonight, sure, but the ache didn’t fully go away.

He stopped in front of Max’s house, blinking at the porch light, fumbling with his phone for the hundredth time. I can just… stumble home. It’s fine.

A calm voice broke through the haze.

“Lando?”

He turned sharply — and there was Oscar, standing on the sidewalk, arms crossed, completely sober, looking impossibly composed.

“Oi,” Lando slurred slightly, a weak grin forming. “I… I was just… figuring out the… uh, the… walk home thing.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow, unimpressed but quietly amused. “You’ve had a lot to drink.”

“Maybe a little,” Lando admitted, swaying. “Don’t judge.”

Oscar’s gaze softened. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

Lando froze, a mix of relief and hesitation twisting inside him. “You… you don’t have to. You’re already home. I don’t want to disturb you.”

Oscar’s lips curved faintly. “You’re not disturbing me. Get in the car.”

Lando’s brain tried to argue — he could stumble home himself, he could figure it out, he didn’t want to impose — but his legs betrayed him. One step, then another, and suddenly Oscar was opening the passenger door for him.

“Fine,” Lando muttered, sliding in, trying to act casual despite the tipsy warmth coursing through him.

“Thought so,” Oscar said, closing the door gently. He slid into the driver’s seat, hands steady on the wheel, his calm presence a grounding contrast to Lando’s flustered, drunken state.

Lando leaned back, exhaling slowly. The streetlights flashed across his face, highlighting the faint smile he didn’t even realize he was wearing. He had tried to forget tonight, tried to lose himself in drinks and laughter, but here Oscar was, quiet, steady, and impossible to ignore.

And suddenly, forgetting didn’t feel like it mattered anymore.

The ride was quiet, the city lights streaking past as Oscar drove steadily, glancing at Lando in the passenger seat only occasionally. Lando had dozed off for a few moments, head lolling slightly, before suddenly jolting awake. His limbs felt light, his thoughts scattered, but his energy — for some inexplicable reason — refused to fade.

By the time they reached Lando’s building, he was talking nonstop, laughing at little jokes he barely remembered making. He stumbled out of the car, tripping slightly over his own feet, and flailed for balance until Oscar caught him with ease.

“Almost made it,” Lando slurred, grinning like a child, and started shuffling up the steps.

Oscar followed, calm and steady. “You’re not walking yourself the rest of the way,” he said firmly, slipping a hand around Lando’s waist when he wobbled again. “I’ve got you.”

By the time they reached Lando’s apartment door, he was practically buzzing with energy. As soon as the door opened, Lando darted inside. “Kitchen! I’m starving!” he declared loudly, nearly crashing into a chair as he ran.

Oscar walked in behind him, unhurried, scanning the apartment like he always did, calm as ever. “Lando,” he said, voice measured. “I’m not letting you walk anymore.”

Before Lando could protest, Oscar scooped him up easily and placed him on the counter. Lando flailed slightly, laughing, trying to protest, but the room tilted in his favor and he collapsed into a semi-reclined position.

“I’m hungry!” Lando repeated, still energetic despite the alcohol coursing through him. His hair was slightly mussed, his baggy jeans twisted just a little as he sprawled across the counter, and his casual shirt had come loose at the collar.

Oscar shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah, yeah. Relax. I’ve got this. You’re not moving until I make sure you don’t fall off.”

Lando laughed, leaning back and stretching his arms dramatically. “Best. Night. Ever. But food. Need food.”

Oscar’s calm hands moved to steady him, brushing a stray strand of hair from Lando’s face. “Alright, alright. We’ll get you fed. You just… stay put.”

And for once, Lando didn’t argue. He let himself collapse into the safety of Oscar’s calm, letting the tipsy energy buzz through him as he watched the man move around the kitchen, steady and reliable, like he always did — and somehow always had.

Lando sprawled on the counter, still laughing softly at some long-forgotten joke from the party. 

“Food,” he repeated dramatically, eyes wide, voice slightly slurred. “I need food. You can’t just… just leave me here to starve.”

Oscar leaned against the counter, calm as ever, a faint smirk on his lips. “I wasn’t planning to. But you’re clearly not capable of standing, so we’re doing this my way.”

Lando waved a hand dismissively. “Pfft. Stand? Who needs to stand? I have energy. Tons of energy.” He kicked one leg playfully, nearly tipping forward before Oscar’s steady hands caught him.

“Uh-huh,” Oscar said, raising an eyebrow. “Tons of energy. And yet somehow you almost fell on your face five steps ago.”

Lando grinned sheepishly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “Details. Minor details. I’m fine!”

“You’re fine until you’re not,” Oscar replied, his voice calm but firm, as he moved behind Lando, lightly brushing his hands along Lando’s sides to steady him. “You’re not walking anywhere tonight. Not even to the fridge.”

Lando leaned back, resting against Oscar’s chest for a brief second before realizing how close they were. “Oh… well, I guess I could let you carry me around,” he teased, voice low and playful. “If you really want to, of course.”

Oscar’s smirk widened. “You’re terrible,” he said softly. “And you know it.”

Lando laughed, a little hiccup escaping, and leaned back further against the counter. “I’m fun,” he said proudly. “And tipsy. Which makes me even better.”

Oscar shook his head, reaching for a plate. “Fun is one thing. Not falling off the counter is another.”

Lando flopped his head back dramatically. “I am so trustworthy,” he said, voice muffled against the counter. “Oscar… you can trust me.”

Oscar’s hands steadied him again, gentle but firm. “I trust you not to hurt yourself. That’s enough for me.”

Lando let out a soft laugh, watching Oscar move around the kitchen with calm precision. Despite the tipsy chaos running through him, there was a warmth settling in his chest, a quiet certainty that somehow Oscar would always be there to catch him — literally and figuratively.

For a moment, the party, the drinks, the tension, and even the longing that had been gnawing at him all night faded. There was just him, just Oscar, just this quiet, chaotic, perfectly ordinary moment that felt… extraordinary.

And Lando, tipsy, laughing, and sprawled across the counter, thought he might never want it to end.

Oscar moved around the kitchen quietly, chopping vegetables and stirring ingredients with calm precision. Lando, still perched on the counter, watched with half-lidded eyes, swinging his legs slightly, still tipsy but fully entertained by Oscar’s calm efficiency.

“You move too quietly,” Lando said, voice soft and slightly slurred. “It’s… suspicious. I don’t trust it.”

Oscar glanced over his shoulder, eyebrow raised. “Suspicious? Really? You’re the one who almost tripped over nothing earlier. You’re lucky I didn’t let you fall.”

“I’m lucky,” Lando agreed with a dramatic nod, grinning. “Extremely lucky. But also… I’m hungry. I need food now, chef Pastry.”

Oscar smirked, ignoring the playful jab. “Patience. Food takes time. You can’t just yell ‘I’m hungry’ and expect it to appear.”

Lando huffed, letting his head flop back against the counter. “I can. I do it all the time.”

“Clearly,” Oscar muttered, sliding a plate across the counter. “Here. Eat. Before you topple off again.”

Lando grabbed a fork with a laugh, balancing himself carefully. “Thank you, thank you, chef,” he said between bites. “You’re… you’re very… precise.”

Oscar shrugged, leaning casually against the counter. “I like things orderly. Unlike you.”

Lando snorted, swiping another forkful. “I’m… chaotic. But fun. You said it yourself.”

Oscar’s lips lifted into a smile, and he sat on the edge of the counter across from Lando, plate balanced in his lap. “Fun, yes. But I’d rather not have you falling on your face while being fun.”

Lando tilted his head, looking at him with a soft, tipsy smile. “You… care too much, you know that?”

“Not enough?” Oscar asked casually, though his gaze lingered.

Lando laughed softly, a little breathless. “Probably not enough. But it’s… nice.” He paused, fork halfway to his mouth. “You… make everything feel… calm. Even when I’m… a mess.”

Oscar gave a small shrug, casually picking up a piece of food. “That’s what I do. Someone’s gotta keep the chaos contained.”

Lando reached out impulsively, just brushing his hand against Oscar’s as he adjusted his plate. His eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t pull away. “Yeah… you’re good at that.”

Oscar’s gaze met his, calm and steady, letting the touch linger for a heartbeat before he looked back at his food. “I just like making sure you don’t hurt yourself,” he said softly. “That’s all.”

Lando swallowed, a little smile tugging at his lips, and leaned back against the counter again, still swaying slightly but content. “You always… do this, huh? Care… quietly?”

“Someone’s got to,” Oscar replied lightly, but there was a warmth in his tone that Lando could feel in his chest.

And in the quiet of Lando’s kitchen, with the night stretching endlessly outside, they ate together. Talked about nothing, really — vegetables, sauce, a joke Max had made hours ago — but the words weren’t the point.

The point was the closeness. The calm. The warmth. And, for the first time all night, Lando let himself just… be.

He didn’t think about the drinks, the party, the tension. He didn’t think about the past or the future. He only thought about the person sitting across from him, quietly making sure he was okay, and how impossibly good it felt to just be here, like this. 

By the time the plates were empty, Lando’s energy had finally started to wane. He leaned back against the counter, swaying slightly, eyelids heavy but still fighting sleep. His fork clattered softly against the plate as he muttered, half to himself, “I… think… I’m done… for now.”

Oscar leaned against the counter across from him, calm and amused. “You’ve hit your limit,” he said softly, watching Lando’s head bob slightly. “About time.”

“I… I’m… still fine,” Lando slurred, swaying again. “Just… uh… resting my eyes.”

Oscar shook his head, smirking. “Sure you are,” he said quietly, and in one smooth motion, he pulled out his phone and captured a short video of Lando swaying gently on the counter, his hair falling over his eyes, lips twitching in a half-smile.

“Hey!” Lando mumbled, squinting at the phone. “No! Delete that—”

“Too late,” Oscar teased, sliding the phone into his pocket. “You look… adorable.”

“Adorable?!” Lando laughed, wobbling again and almost tipping forward. “I… am… strong… and graceful… not adorable!”

Oscar’s lips curved into a soft, teasing smile. “Strong and graceful, sure. But… adorable too,” he said, leaning closer. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed before you really fall off the counter.”

Lando tried to push himself to stand, but his legs had other ideas. They wobbled, refused to cooperate, and he let out a soft groan. “I… can’t… walk…”

Oscar’s eyes softened, and without hesitation, he scooped Lando up in his arms effortlessly. Lando let out a soft laugh, half protest, half delight. “Hey! You—hey! This… is cheating!”

“I call it… efficient,” Oscar said smoothly, holding him close. The warmth of his chest pressed against Lando’s, steady and grounding.

Lando nuzzled slightly against Oscar’s shoulder, his tipsy self relaxing further. “Efficient… hmm… I like efficient,” he murmured, voice soft, teasing. “And… strong.”

Oscar’s lips quirked into a faint, knowing smile. “Strong enough to carry you, apparently,” he said, moving toward the bedroom.

Lando let out a soft, contented sigh, teasing him without words, pressing lightly against Oscar’s chest. “And… handsome… too,” he muttered.

“You’re ridiculous,” Oscar said softly, shaking his head with a small laugh. “But I’ll take it.”

When he reached the bed, he gently lowered Lando onto it, making sure he was settled under the covers. Lando stretched out, half asleep, a sleepy grin on his lips as he whispered, “Best… night… ever.”

Oscar lingered a moment at the bedside, watching him with soft amusement and something warmer in his eyes. “Sleep well,” he said quietly. “Tomorrow… we’ll deal with the hangover.”

Lando mumbled something incomprehensible, already drifting, and Oscar quietly stepped back, closing the door softly behind him. The faint smile on his lips betrayed how much he was enjoying these moments — the closeness, the teasing, the quiet intimacy that had grown between them tonight.

The sunlight cut through the blinds, harsh and unforgiving, dragging Lando out of his haze. His head throbbed and his body ached, the aftermath of last night hitting him all at once.

The steady buzz of his phone pulled him from the fog. Groaning, he reached for it and squinted at the screen. A message from Oscar.

“Morning. Drink some water, sleepyhead 😏”

Lando froze, heart skipping a beat. The little winking emoji… it wasn’t necessary, but it made his stomach twist in that familiar, flustered way.

He unlocked his phone and saw another:

“Seriously. Hydrate. I’d hate for you to collapse again today.”

Lando groaned softly, pressing the phone against his chest. “Oh no,” he muttered, cheeks heating, “he’s… he’s teasing me…”

With fumbling fingers, he typed back, words hesitant and self-conscious:

“Sorry… I was ridiculous last night 😅”

He stared at the message for a moment, thumb hovering over the send button, before finally hitting it. A part of him wanted to follow it up, to explain himself more, but his hungover brain felt too slow, too fuzzy.

Instead, he leaned back against the pillow, a small, tipsy smile tugging at his lips. Even half-awake and aching, even embarrassed, the flirty attention from Oscar made his chest warm in a way that nothing else had.

He sighed, muttering softly to himself: “Ridiculous… yeah… definitely ridiculous. But… maybe he likes it.”

The sun was high in the sky, filtering through Lando’s blinds and finally piercing the fog of his lingering hangover. Midday had arrived, and the apartment, quiet and still, was no longer a sanctuary but a reminder that he needed to get moving.

His phone buzzed again — a message from Oscar:

“Hey… I’ve got your keys. Locked the door on my way out to keep your stuff safe. Come pick them up when you can 😉”

Lando groaned softly, rubbing the back of his neck. Of course he’s being cute about it… and of course I have to go see him. He tapped out a quick reply:

“Thanks… I’ll come get them. Again sorry for being ridiculous last night 😅”

Sliding on his shoes and adjusting his baggy black trousers and white shirt — slightly rumpled from the morning — he muttered to himself, “Okay… mid-day, fully awake-ish, totally casual… you’ve got this.”

By the time he stepped outside, the warmth of the sun hit him, and the city buzzed lazily around him. He made his way toward Max’s place, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and nervousness. Half recovered from the hangover, mostly trying to ignore the flutter in his chest at the thought of seeing Oscar, he walked with a determined wobble, rehearsing casual greetings in his head.

He wasn’t tipsy anymore, but he was still Lando — a little flustered, a little clumsy, and entirely aware that Oscar would be waiting, calm and impossibly collected, with his keys in hand.

Lando approached Max’s house, sunlight warm on his face, still recovering from last night but feeling almost human again. As he reached the door, he noticed the faint hum of conversation and laughter drifting out from inside — a small get-together, quieter than last night’s party, but clearly lively.

He stepped inside, spotting Max on the couch with his girlfriend, laughing at something she said. Max spotted him immediately.

“Oi, Lando!” Max called, waving him over. “Stay a bit, yeah? Drinks, snacks, fun vibes. You can’t just keep disappearing on us.”

Lando shook his head quickly, managing a weak smile. “I appreciate it, Max, really… but I just came to get my keys.”

Max shrugged, grinning. “Fair enough. But… don’t be a stranger.”

Lando started toward the stairs, carefully avoiding the small clusters of people chatting, when a familiar calm voice called from behind him:

“Looking for these?”

He froze and turned. Oscar stood at the doorway, casual as ever, keys in hand, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips.

“I… oh,” Lando stammered, cheeks heating instantly. “Thanks… I—uh—”

“You’re welcome,” Oscar interrupted lightly, holding the keys out toward him. “And you’re not leaving yet. Stay for a bit.”

Lando blinked, panic rising in tandem with a flustered excitement. “I… I really shouldn’t—”

Oscar leaned slightly closer, smirk widening. “Come on. I insist.”

Lando’s knees felt weak under him as he nodded, giving in. Oscar dropped the keys into his hand and then, with a glint of mischief in his eyes, said:

“By the way… last night? I caught everything on video.”

“What?!” Lando yelped, turning red from the roots of his hair to his ears. “You… you what?!”

Oscar’s smirk deepened. “Yep. Every wobble, every dramatic flop onto the counter, all of it. You were… adorable.”

Lando groaned, burying his face in his hands, voice muffled: “I’m… I’m never showing my face in public again…”

Oscar chuckled, leaning casually against the doorframe, enjoying every second of Lando’s embarrassment. “Oh, come on. You were tipsy, ridiculous… and yeah, I recorded it. But don’t worry, it’s just between us.”

Lando peeked through his fingers, a mixture of mortification and flustered amusement swirling in his chest. “I… can’t believe you—”

“I can,” Oscar interrupted lightly, eyes twinkling. “And I’d do it again. You made it very entertaining.”

Lando groaned again, letting out a helpless laugh, half protest, half delight. “I hate you…”

“You love me,” Oscar said softly, sliding the last bit of the flirty tease in effortlessly.

Lando’s heart raced, cheeks still burning, as he glanced at Oscar, realizing with both dread and excitement that this small encounter — keys, teasing, and all — was far from over.

The kitchen smelled like fresh bread and spices, sunlight streaming in through the windows. Lando leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching Oscar move around like he’d been born in a chef’s uniform.

“You’re making lunch for everyone?” Lando asked, eyebrows raised.

Oscar glanced over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Yes. And you’re helping me.”

Lando nearly dropped his glass of water. “Wait… what? Me? Helping? I can’t cook!”

“Exactly why I’m putting you to work,” Oscar said, calm as ever. He picked up a knife and waved it at him lightly. “If I let you stand around doing nothing, you’ll get bored, distracted, and probably spill something important. I can’t have that.”

Lando groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I will ruin everything. You don’t understand—”

Oscar leaned closer, voice teasing. “I understand perfectly. And that’s why I’m going to teach you. Step by step. You can’t escape this.”

“I’m doomed,” Lando muttered, glancing at the array of ingredients on the counter like they were a minefield.

“You’re not doomed,” Oscar said, smirking as he handed him a cutting board. “You’re… going to be slightly chaotic, but with my guidance, you might survive.”

Lando bit his lip, cheeks heating slightly. “Slightly chaotic? That’s generous…”

Oscar raised an eyebrow, moving closer to steady Lando’s hands as he attempted to chop a carrot. Their fingers brushed, and Lando’s stomach did a little flip. “Don’t… don’t get too close,” he muttered, trying to sound stern but failing miserably.

Oscar’s smirk widened. “I’m just making sure you don’t cut yourself. And maybe… just maybe… it’s fun being close like this.”

Lando groaned softly, flustered. “I… I can’t concentrate…”

“You’re doing fine,” Oscar said, calm and patient, guiding his hands over the knife once more. “See? Not dead yet. Progress.”

For the next hour, they worked side by side — Lando fumbling, Oscar steady, teasing, laughing, keeping him on task. Every time their hands touched, every time Oscar leaned a little closer to guide him, Lando felt his cheeks flush hotter and hotter, flustered but secretly enjoying every second.

By the time the meal was ready, the kitchen was chaotic but functional. Plates were stacked, food smelled incredible, and Lando slumped into a chair, still catching his breath, cheeks pink and heart racing.

Oscar placed the last plate on the counter, smirk tugging at his lips. “See? You survived. Barely. But I’d say it’s a win.”

Lando groaned, rubbing his face, feeling simultaneously exhausted, flustered, and ridiculously proud. “Barely is putting it kindly…”

Oscar leaned closer, voice low and teasing: “You did well. Even if you are hopelessly chaotic.”

Lando let out a soft, embarrassed laugh, unable to argue — and unable to hide the little thrill that came from standing next to Oscar, working together, and being utterly flustered under his calm, teasing gaze.

By the time the last plate was ready, the kitchen looked like a small battlefield — flour dusted the counters, sauce had splattered on the stovetop, and Lando’s hair stuck up in a way that made him look like a frazzled artist.

Oscar clapped his hands together, grinning. “Alright, disaster survivors, mission accomplished. Let’s feed the troops.”

Lando groaned, dragging a tray of food to the table. “If anyone complains, it’s your fault,” he muttered, still flustered from the near-constant teasing and accidental touches in the kitchen.

Oscar leaned over, brushing against him just slightly as he set down a dish. “You’re doing fine. Honestly… you’re better than I expected.”

“Better than expected?” Lando repeated, cheeks heating. “That’s… that’s not exactly a compliment…”

Oscar smirked, brushing past him. “Take it however you want, chaotic chef.”

Once everyone was seated and digging in, Lando finally sank into a chair, wiping his hands on a napkin and letting out a long, tired breath. The warm chatter of friends around him faded into the background as he turned to Oscar, curiosity and excitement bubbling up.

“You know,” he said quietly, still flushed from the kitchen fluster, “I’ve been thinking about photography a lot lately. I want… I want to travel, see the world, take pictures of everything — cities, mountains, people, landscapes. Make a life out of it. Capture it all.”

Oscar’s expression softened, and he watched him with steady, attentive eyes. “Really? That sounds… amazing.”

Lando shrugged, a little shy. “I don’t know if I’ll ever actually do it. I just… dream a lot.”

Oscar leaned back, his gaze locking onto Lando’s, a playful spark in his eyes. “Then you’re coming with me. My next Grand Prix is in Italy. You can come. See it all for yourself.”

Lando blinked, caught off guard. “Italy? I… I can’t. I don’t have the money, and… that’s a lot…”

Oscar’s voice was calm, confident, teasing. “I’ll pay for everything. Flights, hotels, whatever you need. You’re coming.”

Lando shook his head, flustered. “No! I… I don’t want you using your money on me!”

Oscar’s eyes met his, unwavering. “Lando… I have more than enough. Seriously. You’re coming. No arguments.”

Lando’s cheeks burned, heart racing. The idea of seeing Italy, traveling, taking pictures, and… being with Oscar in a new, exciting way made his chest tighten. “I… I don’t know what to say…”

“Then say yes,” Oscar said softly, smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Come with me. Take your pictures. See the world.”

Lando swallowed hard, caught between pride, disbelief, and excitement. The flustered thrill of the last hour in the kitchen still tingled in his chest, and now, the possibility of adventure with Oscar made it all feel even more intoxicating.

Lando sat back in his chair, staring at Oscar like he’d just been handed the moon. “Wait… you really mean it? You’d pay for all of this?”

Oscar smirked, leaning casually against the table. “Yep. Flights, hotel, food — the works. You just have to show up. And, of course… see me race.”

Lando blinked. “See you race? In Italy?”

“Exactly,” Oscar said, eyes lighting up. “I want you there. Front-row, seeing me do what I love. You’ve got to see it live — nothing compares to it.”

Lando flushed, half from excitement, half from the idea of Oscar wanting him there. “Uh… I mean… yeah… that’d be amazing… but I… I can’t just let you pay for all of it. That’s… too much.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow, calm and teasing. “Too much? For you? Lando, I have more than enough money. And honestly… I want you there. It’s not just about the race — I want you to see Italy, explore it, take your photos. I want this trip to be about you as much as me.”

Lando groaned, flustered. “I… I don’t even know what to pack! What do you wear in Italy? Fancy suit? Casual? What if I embarrass myself?”

Oscar laughed softly, leaning closer. “You? Embarrass yourself? Impossible. And don’t worry, I’ll help you pack. I’ll make sure you look… perfect.”

Lando’s stomach flipped. “Perfect? You really know how to make someone panic.”

Oscar smirked, brushing past him slightly. “Just keeping you on your toes. Plus, I want you to have fun while you’re here… and maybe… see me in action on the track.”

Lando swallowed hard. “Dangerous… huh? Seeing you race up close?”

Oscar’s grin deepened, eyes glinting with that teasing certainty. “Dangerous in the best way. The adrenaline, the speed… it’s insane. And having you there watching? Even better.”

Lando’s cheeks burned, but a grin tugged at his lips. “Okay… okay, fine. I’ll go. But you have to promise not to make me look ridiculous the whole time.”

“No promises,” Oscar said, softening slightly but keeping the playful edge. “But I will make it unforgettable. And I’ll be right there, making sure nothing bad happens… except maybe for you falling over your own excitement.”

Lando groaned, flustered, running a hand through his hair. “Why do I even let you do this to me?”

Oscar shrugged, leaning just a little closer, voice low, teasing but warm. “Because you like it… admit it.”

Lando’s cheeks flared. “Maybe… a little,” he muttered, eyes darting away.

Oscar’s grin widened, satisfied. “Good. Because when you see me race, and explore Italy, and take all those photos… I want that ‘little’ to turn into a lot.”

Lando felt his heart speed up, caught between pride, excitement, and that undeniable thrill of being flustered around Oscar. Somehow, just thinking about the trip made everything — the teasing, the flirting, the adventure — feel electric.

The apartment smelled faintly of clothes and luggage as Lando stood in the middle of his room, a pile of shirts and trousers at his feet. His baggy black pants were half wrinkled from yesterday, and his white shirt had been replaced with a casual tee. He held up two similar jackets, staring at them like they were a math problem.

“You really need my opinion on this?” he muttered, flipping the jackets back and forth.

Oscar leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, smirk tugging at his lips. “Yes. Because you’re going to Italy looking like a disaster otherwise. And I promised you’d look good.”

Lando groaned, cheeks already warming. “Disaster? I’m not a disaster! I just… don’t know what I’m doing.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Oscar said, stepping closer. “I’ll guide you. And make sure you don’t pack, I don’t know… five white shirts and zero pants.”

Lando held up the jackets again. “Fine. But which one? This one…” he gestured to a sleek black bomber… “…or this one?” a slightly lighter jacket that looked more casual.

Oscar’s eyes lingered on Lando for a beat longer than necessary. “That one,” he said, nodding toward the bomber. “It suits you. Shows your style… and makes you look like you know what you’re doing, even if you don’t.”

Lando’s cheeks flared. “Oh, come on. That’s… you’re just saying that to make me flustered.”

“Am I?” Oscar’s smirk widened as he stepped closer, brushing just a little too close. “Because if that’s the effect… mission accomplished.”

Lando swallowed, fumbling with the jackets, feeling heat rise in his chest. “Okay… okay… maybe… maybe I’ll take your advice.”

Oscar laughed softly. “Good. Now… shoes. We can’t have you walking around Italy looking like a confused tourist.”

Lando held up a pair of sneakers and then a slightly more formal pair of shoes. “Which? Sneakers or… these?”

“Depends on whether you want to blend in or stand out,” Oscar said, voice teasing. “And honestly… you’ll look good either way. But if you want to impress me… pick the shoes that make you feel confident.”

Lando felt his stomach flip. “Impress… you? I… I’m just trying not to embarrass myself.”

Oscar’s gaze softened, playful edges still there. “Lando… you don’t need to impress me. Just… come with me. Have fun. Take your photos. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Lando’s lips curved into a small, flustered smile. “You really… make everything sound so easy.”

“That’s because it is easy,” Oscar said, leaning just a little closer, the proximity making Lando’s heartbeat stutter. “You just have to let yourself enjoy it… and maybe let me enjoy teasing you a bit along the way.”

Lando groaned, half-laughing, half-sighing, cheeks still warm. “I… don’t know why I let you do this to me.”

Oscar’s grin softened, eyes warm and steady. “Because you secretly love it.”

Lando’s laugh came out breathy and flustered. “Maybe… a little.”

Oscar chuckled, reaching over to adjust the sleeve of Lando’s jacket, brushing his fingers lightly against Lando’s arm. “Good. Because Italy is going to be full of little moments like this… and I want to make sure you’re ready for all of them.”

Lando’s chest tightened, a mixture of excitement, nervousness, and anticipation. Somehow, this trip — the packing, the teasing, the adventure — felt like the start of something much bigger than just a Grand Prix in Italy.

The roar of engines hit Lando before he even stepped out of the car. The Italian sun was warm on his face, the smell of fuel and asphalt mingling with the salty breeze from the nearby coast. He blinked, trying to take it all in — the vibrant energy, the crowds, the flags waving everywhere.

Oscar turned to him, calm and composed as ever, smirk tugging at his lips. “Ready to see what it’s like up close?”

Lando’s chest was already racing. “I… I think so… but I don’t even know where to look first!”

Oscar laughed, slipping an arm lightly around Lando’s shoulders as they walked toward the hospitality. “Start with me. Watch me, then take everything else in. Trust me, it’s worth it.”

They found their spot, the track stretching out before them. Lando’s hands shook slightly with anticipation as he lifted his camera, trying to focus through the lens while still glancing at Oscar.

“Focus on the race,” Oscar teased softly, leaning closer so his arm brushed against Lando’s. “And maybe… sneak a few glances at me while you’re at it.”

Lando’s cheeks heated, but he managed a small laugh. “I… will… try not to fluster myself further.”

The engines screamed to life, and Daniel’s car shot past them, the blur of speed making Lando’s heart leap. He snapped pictures, adrenaline pumping, the thrill of the moment making him forget nerves, hangovers, and even the teasing from earlier.

“He’s incredible,” Lando whispered, almost to himself, eyes glued to the track.

Oscar leaned closer again, voice low and teasing. “You think that is incredible? Wait until you see me take a corner at 250 km/h and still come out on top.”

Lando swallowed, half awed, half flustered, fingers tightening around his camera. “I… I can’t believe you do this… and you want me to watch it live? That’s… that’s insane.”

Oscar’s grin softened, his gaze warm now. “I wanted you here. To see me do what I love. And… I wanted you to see me for me. Not just the driver, but… all of it.”

Lando blinked, heart skipping a beat. “All of it?”

“Yeah,” Oscar said, leaning a little closer, voice teasing but intimate. “And I’d like you to be part of it too. Take your pictures, explore Italy, enjoy yourself… and maybe enjoy me a little while you’re at it.”

Lando felt his chest tighten, camera forgotten for a moment as the weight of Oscar’s words — and the closeness between them — hit him. “I… okay… I think I can do that,” he whispered, cheeks burning.

Oscar smirked, brushing lightly against Lando as he handed him a pair of sunglasses. “Good. Because this trip is just the beginning… and you’re not allowed to look flustered too often. I want to see that smile of yours.”

Lando let out a nervous laugh, adrenaline and anticipation swirling together. “I… I’ll try. But no promises.”

Oscar grinned, nudging him gently. “Oh, I think we’ll manage just fine.”

As the race roared around them, Lando raised his camera again, heart racing, realizing that this trip — Italy, the speed, the adventure, and Oscar by his side — was going to change everything.

The garage was alive with movement and noise — mechanics adjusting tires, monitors flickering with telemetry, and the faint hum of engines warming up. Lando leaned against the railing, hands gripping it a little too tightly, heart racing in time with the engines.

He could feel every beat of adrenaline in the air, every focused glance and shouted instruction. And there, in the center of it all, was Oscar.

Dressed in his racing suit, helmet in hand, he moved with precision and calm authority, checking every strap, every glove, every connection. The usual teasing spark in his eyes was gone, replaced by the intensity of someone fully in their element.

Lando swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure. “Wow… he’s… he’s really in the zone,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.

A mechanic passed by, giving Lando a quick nod. “First time seeing him race up close?”

Lando nodded, gripping the railing a little tighter. “Yeah… it’s… it’s intense.”

Oscar glanced up from the car, catching Lando’s eye for a brief moment. Even through the helmet, Lando could feel the focus radiating from him. And yet, in that split second, there was a small flicker — a private acknowledgment meant only for him.

Lando’s stomach tightened. “Okay… just… breathe… don’t faint,” he muttered to himself, heart hammering.

The crew around Oscar moved with synchronized precision. Lando watched as Oscar climbed into the cockpit, checking the controls with meticulous care, every movement practiced, every gesture exact. The calm confidence he carried was almost intimidating — and mesmerizing.

“You okay?” Oscar’s voice, muffled by the helmet, reached Lando, teasing even in the middle of the focus.

“I… yeah… totally… fine…” Lando stammered, cheeks heating. “Just… you know… watching you… no big deal.”

Oscar smirked, just the corner of it visible through the helmet visor. “Good. Because when the lights go out, I’ll be counting on you cheering… loudly.”

Lando’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Loudly? I… okay… yeah… I can do that.”

Oscar gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod before fully immersing himself in the race prep again. Lando watched, breath shallow, as the team did the final checks. The sound of the engine revving, the smell of burning rubber, and the palpable energy of the garage made his heart pound — not just from excitement, but from the intensity of seeing Oscar like this: focused, unstoppable, and entirely in his element.

Lando realized, with a mix of awe and something deeper he didn’t quite want to name, that he’d never seen Oscar like this before. And he wasn’t sure if he was more nervous for him or… for himself, knowing how much this moment meant.

The roar of engines and the hum of activity in the pit lane hit Lando like a freight train. Race day at Monza was nothing like watching on TV — the air vibrated with tension, the scent of fuel and rubber was everywhere, and every person in the paddock moved with purpose.

Lando stood behind the barriers, camera slung over his shoulder, heart thumping. Oscar was in his element — completely focused, suit zipped, gloves snapped on, helmet under his arm. The intensity in his stance was electric.

“You ready?” Oscar asked, voice calm but charged, barely above a whisper as he stepped over the pit wall toward his car.

Lando swallowed thickly, trying to steady himself. “Yeah… I mean… just nervous. For you.”

Oscar gave him a slight wink — just enough that Lando felt it in his chest. “Good. Because once that light turns green, it’s all about focus.”

The cars lined up. Engines rumbled to life. Max Verstappen surged to the front early, dominating the race with brutal speed, but behind him the battle was tight — Oscar in a strong position, pushing hard, and Lando watching every lap like it was the first time he’d ever cared about anything.

As the laps ticked down, the tension spiked. Pit stop strategies shifted; at one point, Oscar gained a position that would have put him ahead of Daniel, another top driver hungry for points — and Lando watched breathlessly as the gap between them tightened.

But then team orders came through: Oscar would have to give that position back.

Oscar glanced at his radio, eyes flicking to the crew. Then, with the calm precision of someone wholly in command of himself, he lifted off the throttle just enough, allowing Daniel to reclaim the spot. It wasn’t easy — every second on track mattered — but he complied. It was strategy. It was teamwork. It was sportsmanship.

Lando watched, breath caught somewhere between awe and helplessness. Oscar had driven brilliantly all race — controlled the car with precision and heart — and yet he gave that position up so that Daniel could finish ahead. It wasn’t about ego — it was about the greater good of the team.

When the checkered flag fell, the results showed Max first, Daniel second, and Oscar third — but everyone at the circuit knew how close it had been, how much drive and grit Oscar had shown.

Oscar peeled off to the pit lane, visor down, helmet on, jaw tight. Lando didn’t approach him — he could see the tension radiating off Oscar in waves. Words weren’t needed, and any attempt to speak would have been ignored.

Lando just watched silently, heart pounding, camera hanging forgotten at his side. Oscar’s brilliance, his intensity, and even his frustration — all of it — left Lando in awe. He didn’t need to say anything.

Oscar disappeared into the garage, shoulders tense, moving with a purpose that shut out the world — including Lando.

Lando lingered in the hallway outside the team area, letting the adrenaline of the race fade and giving Oscar some space to cool off. He had been watching him from afar all afternoon, noticing the tight jaw, the slight clench of fists, the way Oscar moved as if he could erase the world with sheer focus.

After a while, Lando decided he couldn’t just sit there. He knew Oscar well enough to bring a little comfort — snacks he liked, a few things that might remind him to breathe. Carefully, he arranged a small tray: some protein bars, a favorite chocolate, and a bottle of water. Nothing fancy, just thoughtful.

He made his way down the quiet corridor to Oscar’s driver room, heart thudding in his chest. He paused for a moment before knocking softly. “Oscar? It’s… me.”

The door swung open, and Oscar’s visor was off, but his eyes were sharp, still burning with frustration. “What do you want, Lando?” His tone was clipped, and Lando immediately knew he had misjudged how long he needed to wait.

“I… I just wanted to check on you,” Lando started, keeping his voice gentle, careful. “Make sure you’re okay… and I brought some snacks — I thought you might be hungry.”

Oscar’s eyes narrowed, and his tone snapped like a whip. “Leave me alone,” he said sharply, cutting Lando off. Before Lando could respond, Oscar slammed the door in his face. The sound echoed down the empty corridor.

Lando stood there for a few seconds, stunned, the tray of food still in his hands. His chest tightened, a mixture of frustration, concern, and a little sting of rejection. He took a slow breath, letting the moment sink in.

Quietly, he set the tray on the floor in front of the door, hoping that at least the food might reach him somehow. Then, with a small, resigned sigh, he turned and walked back down the corridor, back to the hospitality area, forcing himself to focus on anything other than Oscar’s glare, his sharp words, and the tension that still lingered between them.

Lando slumped into a quiet corner of the paddock, far from the laughter, chatter, and energy of the team hospitality. His chest felt tight, still weighed down by the memory of Oscar slamming the door in his face earlier.

He ran a hand through his hair and muttered under his breath, “Why does it always have to be so complicated?”

To take his mind off it, he grabbed his camera and wandered the paddock, capturing the small, vivid details around him: mechanics adjusting tires, flags snapping in the breeze, the shimmer of sunlight on polished cars. Each photo was a small distraction, but none of them could fully push the knot in his chest away.

Eventually, he made his way back to the hospitality area, sinking into a chair tucked into a quiet corner, far from anyone else. He scrolled through his pictures, letting the images occupy his hands while his mind still lingered on Oscar.

A shadow fell across his lap, and Lando looked up, heart skipping. Oscar stood there, eyes softer now, still cautious but calm. Lando immediately panicked.

“I… I’m so sorry about everything,” he blurted, voice rushed, flustered. “About knocking, and the snacks, and… I don’t even know… just everything!”

Oscar knelt down in front of him, voice steady, eyes sincere. “Lando… you have nothing to be sorry for,” he said firmly. “It’s me — I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I shouldn’t have slammed the door. You do not deserve someone to take their frustration out on you like that.”

Lando froze, surprised by the intensity and honesty in Oscar’s gaze.

“I’m sorry,” Oscar continued, softer this time, brushing a hand lightly over Lando’s. “I let my frustration get the better of me, and it was wrong. I promise — I will never do that again.”

Lando felt warmth bloom in his chest, relief washing over him. “I… okay…” he whispered, still flustered, unsure what to say.

Oscar’s lips curved into a small, teasing smile. “And to make it up to you,” he added, voice low and playful, “I want to take you out to dinner. Just us. No stress, no yelling, no racing… just you and me.”

Lando blinked, cheeks flushing, heart racing. “Dinner… with you?”

“Yes,” Oscar said simply, leaning a little closer, eyes sparkling. “It’s my way of saying sorry… properly.”

Lando swallowed hard, a smile tugging at his lips despite the lingering nerves. “Okay… I… I’d like that.”

Oscar grinned, the tension between them easing slightly. “Good. Then it’s settled. Dinner. Just you and me. And maybe some more of your terrible jokes.”

Lando laughed softly, the tension in his shoulders finally beginning to ease. For the first time since the race, he felt like maybe — just maybe — everything was going to be okay.

Lando paced nervously around his hotel room, muttering to himself under his breath. “Okay… he said dinner… but did he mean dinner? Or a date? Is this a date? Oh god, it’s a date, isn’t it?”

He stopped abruptly, staring at his wardrobe like it held the answers to the universe. Shirts, jackets, trousers — nothing seemed right. He tried on a white shirt, then a light blue one, then a dark gray. Nothing felt right.

Finally, his eyes landed on a navy blue button-down shirt — the one meant for a suit, sharp, elegant, and just the right mix of fancy and effortless. His heart skipped a beat. Okay… yes. This. This is it.

He paired it with black trousers that fit perfectly, tailored just enough to feel sophisticated without being stuffy. He checked himself in the mirror, frowning slightly. “I hope this isn’t too much… too little… too… everything.”

After pacing a few more times, taking deep breaths, and convincing himself that he wasn’t overthinking (he totally was), a soft knock echoed through the room. Lando jumped, his heart racing.

He opened the door, and there was Oscar, standing there calm and confident as always — but with a twist that made Lando’s chest feel tight: a small bouquet of peonies in his hand.

“You remembered,” Lando whispered, surprised, a little flustered.

Oscar gave a small smile, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Of course. How could I forget?”

Lando’s eyes flicked to Oscar’s outfit — a striped button-down khaki trousers, paired with a black jacket that made him look effortlessly put together. Lando’s breath hitched. “You look… really good.”

Oscar grinned, tilting his head slightly. “So do you,” he said softly, handing over the bouquet. Lando’s fingers brushed against his, and heat spread across his cheeks.

They stood there for a moment, the unspoken tension stretching between them, charged and electric.

Then Lando paused, remembering the hotel room. “Um… I think I’ll leave these here for now,” he said, carefully placing the flowers on the desk. “Don’t want them getting squished in the car.”

Oscar nodded, tilting his head slightly, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Good call.”

They walked down the hotel corridor together, side by side, Oscar leading the way to the car. Lando couldn’t stop sneaking glances at him, heart racing, stomach fluttering. Okay… deep breath… just act normal…

Even with all his nerves, he couldn’t help but smile. Somehow, this night already felt like it was going to be unforgettable.

The car pulled up to a small, elegant restaurant tucked away on a cobblestone street in Italy. Lanterns glowed softly, casting warm light across the terrace, and the faint scent of fresh herbs and wood-fired pizza drifted through the air.

Lando’s stomach fluttered as he stepped out, smoothing his navy blue shirt and trying to calm his racing heart. “Okay… act normal,” he muttered under his breath, glancing at Oscar, who was leaning casually against the car, giving him a small, reassuring smile.

“You look nervous,” Oscar said, voice low, teasing, as he offered his hand.

“I… maybe a little,” Lando admitted, taking Oscar’s hand and letting it guide him down the steps. “But not… nervous in a bad way, I promise.”

Oscar’s grin widened. “Good. Because I don’t want you stressed — I want you distracted… by me.”

Lando’s cheeks heated instantly, and he looked away, trying to focus on the restaurant rather than the fluttering in his chest. “Distracted… by you, huh? That sounds… dangerous.”

“Depends on who you ask,” Oscar replied smoothly, opening the door for him. “But I think you can handle it.”

Inside, the restaurant was cozy and intimate, softly lit with candles on each table. A waiter led them to a small corner table, giving them just enough privacy for conversation without feeling isolated. Lando slid into the seat across from Oscar, trying to steady his hands.

“So…” Oscar said, leaning back slightly, resting an elbow on the table, “how’s your Italian so far? Surviving the paddock chaos?”

Lando laughed nervously. “Surviving… barely. Between the racing and the crowds and trying not to get lost in this city, I’ve mostly just been… wandering and taking pictures.”

“Oh? Capturing the chaos?” Oscar teased, a playful glint in his eye. “Or the pretty things?”

Lando hesitated, cheeks coloring. “A little of both… mostly the pretty things,” he admitted, shifting in his seat.

Oscar’s eyes softened, the teasing edge giving way to warmth. “I knew it,” he said quietly. “I had a feeling you’d notice the details no one else does. That’s… very you.”

Lando smiled, biting his lip. “Well… maybe I just notice what matters.” His gaze flicked up to Oscar, heart skipping.

Oscar leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. “Good to know. Because I think tonight… what matters is right here, at this table.”

Lando swallowed hard, trying to act casual, but the tension, the heat in his chest, the nervous excitement — it all made his hands tremble slightly on the table. “Right… yes… what matters,” he muttered, forcing a small smile.

The waiter arrived with menus, giving them a momentary distraction, but the electric tension between them didn’t fade. Lando kept sneaking glances at Oscar, catching that smirk, that teasing lift of the eyebrow, and feeling a thrill in every look.

And as they talked, laughed quietly over the menu, and flirted subtly across the table, Lando realized: maybe dinner was a date. Maybe that’s why his heart felt like it was going to leap out of his chest every time Oscar smiled.

The evening air in Italy was crisp but gentle, carrying the scent of freshly baked bread and distant sea salt. Lando and Oscar stepped out of the restaurant, the glow of the street lamps casting soft shadows over the cobblestones. Lando’s heart was racing, and he found himself constantly glancing at Oscar, noticing the way his jacket sat perfectly on his shoulders, the way the soft light caught his hair.

“So…” Lando started, nervously twisting the strap of his bag, “that… dinner… was amazing. I mean… the food, the wine, the… um…” He trailed off, realizing he was flustered.

Oscar gave him a small, teasing smile. “The company?” he offered.

Lando’s cheeks heated instantly. “Yes! The company, of course. That’s what I meant. Totally.” He laughed awkwardly, kicking at a loose cobblestone.

Oscar chuckled, hands in his pockets, walking a little closer. “You’re nervous, aren’t you?”

“Me? Nervous?” Lando tried to sound casual, but his voice betrayed him. “No! Not at all. I mean… maybe a little. But… not really. I don’t know!”

“You’re adorable when you panic,” Oscar said softly, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Relax. We’re just walking. No one’s judging us.”

Lando bit his lip, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “Right… just walking. Simple. Easy. Totally normal. With… you.” His heart skipped at the last words.

They wandered through narrow streets, passing little gelato stands and shops still open, their warm lights spilling onto the stone. Lando spotted one of the stands and grinned. “Ice cream?” he asked, feeling spontaneous.

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “At this hour?”

“You said relax. I’m following instructions,” Lando said, trying to sound casual, but his grin gave him away.

They each picked a flavor — Lando went for pistachio, Oscar chose stracciatella — and walked toward a small bench under a lamplight. Lando took a bite and shivered slightly. “Cold,” he muttered.

Oscar didn’t hesitate. He shrugged off his jacket and draped it over Lando’s shoulders. “Better?”

“Much,” Lando admitted softly, pressing closer to the warmth of the jacket. “Thank you.”

They sat together in comfortable silence for a few moments, the only sounds the distant hum of the city and the occasional clink of ice cream spoons. Lando’s mind kept wandering, back to the door incident, to their awkwardness after the race, to the years he’d spent trying to hide his feelings.

Finally, he spoke, voice quiet. “Oscar… about earlier… I… I just…” He faltered, unsure how to phrase the jumble of emotions.

Oscar’s gaze softened, and he leaned slightly closer. “Lando… it’s okay. You don’t need to apologize for anything.”

“But I feel like I should,” Lando blurted. “For… being nervous, for… I don’t know, for overthinking everything, for—”

Oscar cut him off gently, placing a hand over Lando’s. “No. You have nothing to be sorry for. That was on me earlier. I… I shouldn’t have yelled. I shouldn’t have slammed the door. You don’t deserve someone to take their frustration out on you.”

Lando’s chest tightened, eyes watering slightly. “I… I just care. About you. Always have.”

Oscar gave a soft, almost shy smile. “I know,” he admitted. “And… I’ve cared too. For a long time, actually. Maybe longer than I realized. But seeing you here tonight, seeing you like this… I can’t hide it anymore. I like you.”

Lando’s heart pounded in his chest. “You… like me? Really?”

Oscar’s thumb brushed lightly across Lando’s hand, the smallest touch sending shivers through him. “Yes,” he said simply. “I’ve liked you for years. Always. And I… I want tonight to be just for us. No confusion. No games.”

Lando swallowed, feeling his nerves melting into something else entirely. “I… I’ve loved you since high school,” he admitted, words spilling out in a rush. “Even when… you were away at races, I… I couldn’t tell you… and then Lily… and everything… I just… oh god, I’ve been ridiculous, I know, but I… I—”

Oscar laughed softly, cutting through the chaos of Lando’s rambling. “Hey,” he said, voice tender, “I get it. I get all of it. And I love you too… more than you know.”

The words hit Lando like a jolt. Time seemed to slow, the lights of the city blurring around them. They just looked at each other, and in that moment, the world disappeared.

Oscar leaned closer, voice barely above a whisper. “Can I kiss you?”

Lando didn’t hesitate, his answer a small, breathless nod.

Their lips met, soft and intimate, lingering, tasting, savoring the long years of unspoken feelings. Lando felt himself melt against Oscar, heart racing, chest warm, the chilly night forgotten.

When they finally pulled back, their foreheads rested together, breaths mingling. “Hi,” Lando whispered, grinning through the shock and joy.

“Hi,” Oscar replied, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

Lando laughed softly, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe… my first date… with you… in Italy… and my first kiss… in Italy too.”

Oscar chuckled, brushing a thumb over Lando’s cheek. “Not a bad place for a first, huh?”

Lando’s grin widened, eyes sparkling with happiness. “No… not bad at all.”

They sat together on the bench for a while longer, hands entwined, laughing quietly, teasing each other, and just enjoying the magic of the night — the streets of Italy, the city lights, and the long-awaited beginning of something neither of them wanted to end.

The streets of Italy were nearly empty now, the soft glow of street lamps reflecting on the cobblestones. Lando and Oscar strolled hand in hand, the night air cool and gentle. They wandered through quiet piazzas, past small fountains, laughing softly and teasing each other. Lando had never felt so lighthearted — the world had shrunk to just the two of them, their shared laughter echoing between the buildings.

“You know,” Oscar said with a grin, nudging Lando gently, “you really are ridiculous when you get flustered.”

Lando laughed, a high, breathless sound. “I’m not ridiculous! I’m… excited! Nervous! Happy! It’s complicated!”

Oscar’s grin widened. “Complicated, huh? I like that.” He leaned in close, brushing his nose against Lando’s. “I like you like this. All flustered and adorable.”

Lando’s cheeks flushed crimson, and he could only giggle, shoving Oscar lightly. “Stop teasing me!”

As they continued wandering, Lando suddenly felt a sharp sting in his foot. Glancing down, he noticed blood starting to seep through his shoe. Panic flickered briefly — but he didn’t want to ruin the magic of the night. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, trying to keep walking.

Oscar’s sharp eyes immediately noticed the red spot. “Lando,” he said gently but firmly, guiding him toward a nearby bench, “sit down. Now.”

“But—” Lando started, flustered.

“No arguments,” Oscar interrupted, already kneeling in front of him. He gently pulled off Lando’s shoe and rolled down the sock slightly to see the wound. “It’s not too bad, but we need to clean it.” He retrieved a napkin from a nearby café window and carefully dabbed at the blood, his fingers brushing Lando’s ankle softly.

Lando’s cheeks burned, flustered from both the pain and the intimacy of Oscar’s touch. He tried to shift, but Oscar looked at him and shook his head. “No, you’re not walking like this. I’ve got you.”

Before Lando could protest, Oscar effortlessly lifted him into his arms. Lando’s heart leapt, and he couldn’t help the nervous giggles that escaped. “O-Oscar! I’m… I’m fine! Really!”

“You’re fine,” Oscar said, his voice low and teasing, “as long as I’m carrying you.”

The streets stretched out empty and quiet as Oscar carried him back toward the hotel. Lando leaned against his chest, feeling completely safe and ridiculously flustered. The cool night air and the thrill of being held by Oscar made him giggle uncontrollably.

Somewhere along the way, a voice called out, and both of them turned slightly. Two young girls, holding up a phone, waved shyly. “We thought you two looked really cute! We took a picture and wanted to show you!”

The photo captured Oscar carrying Lando in his arms, their bodies framed in the soft glow of a lamppost. Lando’s head was thrown back in laughter, and Oscar gazed at him as if he were the center of his entire world.

Lando’s face went crimson, and Oscar’s jaw tightened in a mixture of amusement and embarrassment. The girls handed over the photo, giggling, before waving and running off down the street. Lando clutched at Oscar’s arm, still giggling. “Oh my god… I can’t believe that just happened!”

Oscar just shook his head, smirking, then looked down at Lando with something soft in his eyes. “Don’t worry about it. You’re mine tonight anyway.”

Finally, they reached the hotel. Oscar gently set Lando down inside the lobby, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “There. Safe. No more walking tonight.”

Lando laughed, cheeks still flushed, heart pounding. “I… I can’t believe… you carried me through the streets of Italy… and we got… photographed…”

Oscar chuckled, tucking the jacket around Lando’s shoulders again. “It’s all part of the adventure. Now, come on — let’s get you settled before you start laughing too hard.”

As they walked toward their hotel room, Lando’s chest felt full in a way it hadn’t in years. Between the teasing, the touches, the confessions, and the quiet intimacy of being in Oscar’s arms, he couldn’t stop smiling. This night… this night was everything.

Once inside the hotel room, Lando sank onto the edge of the bed, still flushed and laughing softly. He tugged off Oscar’s jacket from his shoulders, letting the cool air brush against his neck. The adrenaline and nerves from the evening had his heart still racing, and he couldn’t stop smiling.

Oscar leaned against the doorframe for a moment, watching him with that soft, unreadable expression that made Lando’s chest flutter. “You’re ridiculous when you smile like that,” Oscar teased quietly.

“I—what?” Lando stammered, cheeks heating even more. “I’m not ridiculous! I mean… maybe a little, but…” He trailed off, shaking his head and flopping back against the pillows.

Oscar moved closer, crouching down beside the bed. “A little? Come on, you’re adorable.”

Lando’s hands fumbled with the hem of his shirt, suddenly shy under Oscar’s gaze. “I… I don’t know what to say anymore,” he admitted, voice quiet. “Everything tonight… it’s just… I’ve never… I don’t know…”

Oscar reached out, brushing a finger along Lando’s jawline. “You don’t need to say anything. Just… be here with me.”

Lando’s chest tightened, and he leaned into the touch, closing his eyes briefly. “I’m… really happy,” he murmured.

“I can tell,” Oscar said softly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “And I’m happy too.”

There was a pause, the kind that felt charged and electric, the kind that made Lando’s stomach twist with anticipation. Then, without another word, Oscar sat on the bed beside him, close enough that Lando could feel the warmth radiating off him. Their hands brushed, and this time, neither pulled away.

“You know,” Lando said, voice slightly breathless, “I never thought… I’d get to… be like this with you. Ever.”

Oscar’s eyes softened, and he tucked a strand of hair behind Lando’s ear. “Me neither. But here we are. Finally.”

Lando laughed nervously, biting his lip. “Finally… yeah. I’ve… I’ve wanted this for so long, I just…” He gestured vaguely, helplessly.

Oscar tilted his head, his gaze lingering on Lando’s flushed face. “I know,” he said quietly. “I’ve wanted this too.”

The room was quiet except for their breathing, the gentle hum of the city outside the window. Lando’s pulse was racing, the thrill of the night, the closeness, the warmth of Oscar beside him, all mixing into something dizzying.

Slowly, Oscar reached out, taking Lando’s hand in his. “Can I…” he began softly, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Can I hold you a little closer?”

Lando’s heart skipped. “Y-Yes,” he whispered, nodding eagerly.

Oscar shifted closer, draping an arm around Lando, who leaned into him without hesitation. Their faces were just inches apart, breaths mingling, hearts beating fast in unison. Lando couldn’t stop the small giggle that escaped him, and Oscar’s thumb brushed over his knuckles, soothingly.

“You’re so flustered,” Oscar murmured, voice low and warm, “and it’s… really cute.”

“I… I can’t help it!” Lando exclaimed softly, hiding his face against Oscar’s chest. “I’ve been waiting for this… for you… for so long.”

Oscar’s other hand came up to tilt Lando’s chin, lifting his gaze to meet his. “I’ve been waiting too,” he admitted. “And I don’t plan on letting you go anytime soon.”

Lando’s breath caught. “You… really mean that?”

Oscar nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. “Completely. Now… I think you need to relax. Let me take care of you tonight.”

Lando swallowed hard, a mix of nerves and excitement washing over him. “I… okay…”

And for the first time since high school, with the years of longing and unspoken feelings finally behind them, Lando let himself fully melt into Oscar’s arms. They sat there for a long while, talking quietly, laughing softly at little things, teasing one another, fingers intertwined, hearts slowly syncing.

The night outside Italy’s streets seemed to pause, leaving just them in the soft glow of the hotel room, warm, safe, and finally together.

The hotel room was quiet, the soft hum of the city outside just a faint backdrop to the warmth inside. Lando and Oscar lay side by side on the bed, the earlier laughter and teasing giving way to a peaceful calm. Lando’s head rested on Oscar’s chest, fingers tangled lightly in his hair, and for the first time in years, he felt completely at ease.

“Oscar…” Lando murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, “can… can you sleep here tonight?”

Oscar glanced down, his eyes softening at the sight of Lando’s flushed, sleepy face. “Of course,” he said gently, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him closer. “I wouldn’t sleep anywhere else.”

Lando nuzzled into him, heart racing but steady in the warmth of Oscar’s embrace. “I… I want this… I want you. Not just tonight, but… everything. I’ve… I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

Oscar smiled, brushing a hand along Lando’s back. “I know,” he said softly, resting his forehead against Lando’s temple. “And I’ve wanted this too. You… you make me happier than I ever thought possible.”

Lando’s eyes fluttered closed, a small smile on his lips. “So… we’re… really together?”

Oscar’s grin was tender and full of certainty. “Yes. We’re together. Officially.”

Lando let out a small, breathless laugh, his heart soaring. “Finally… after all these years.”

Oscar chuckled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Lando’s head. “Finally.”

They lay there in silence for a few moments, hearts beating in quiet harmony. Lando curled closer, resting completely against Oscar, who held him protectively, fingers tracing soft patterns along his back.

“Goodnight, Oscar,” Lando whispered, voice muffled against his chest.

“Goodnight, Lando,” Oscar replied, brushing his hair gently from his face. “Sleep well… my boyfriend.”

The word hung in the air, warm and real, and Lando felt a happiness so full it made his chest ache. He nuzzled closer, feeling Oscar’s steady heartbeat beneath his ear. Slowly, his eyelids grew heavy, the day’s adventures, the confessions, and the stolen kisses carrying him toward sleep.

Oscar tightened his embrace slightly, letting out a content sigh. “Sleep tight,” he murmured, “we’ve got forever to figure the rest out.”

And in the quiet of the hotel room in Italy, surrounded by the soft glow of the city lights, Lando finally let himself drift off — safe, happy, and finally in the arms of the person he had loved for so long.