Kaymar814

Logan has music blasting before they’ve even properly left the airport with Arthur already arguing over the playlist like his life depends on it. Fred is laughing from the backseat beside Oscar as he leans his head against the window and lets it all wash over him.

He knows he’d told Lando he would be happy to cancel or not come of this trip with the guys but now that he’s here, he’s really glad he didn’t. These guys are his best friends and he doesn’t want to become that person who ditches his friends as soon as gets into a relationship.

These are the people who supported him through his first heartbreak and through all the confusing moments that eventually led to him and Lando getting back together, well kind of, almost. He owes them a lot more than bailing on them.

They spend the first afternoon by the water, shoes abandoned somewhere along the sand, Arthur insisting on some overly complicated game that makes absolutely no sense but somehow turns into all of them sprinting across the beach anyway. Logan cheats blatantly, Fred calls him out on it, and Oscar ends up laughing so hard his ribs ache.

The second night they find a place for dinner that none of them can properly pronounce, squeezed around a small table, passing plates between them, talking over each other. It’s messy, loud, comfortable.

Oscar’s phone buzzes once against the table. He doesn’t even think about it, just glances down, and something in his expression must shift because Logan immediately narrows his eyes.

“Oh no guys,” Logan says, pointing at him with a chip. “The look is back.”

Oscar frowns faintly. “What look?”

“The one where you pretend you’re not smiling at your phone.”

“I’m not smiling,” Oscar says, too quick.

Arthur leans across the table to try and see his screen. “Who is it?”

Oscar tilts it away instinctively. “No one.”

Fred hums, unconvinced. “Right. ‘No one’ must be pretty special if they have you checking your phone every five minutes.”

Oscar exhales, already losing the battle. “It’s just Lando.”

There’s a beat, then all three of them react at once.

“Just Lando,” Logan repeats, incredulous.

Arthur makes a dramatic choking noise. “He says, like that’s a normal sentence.”

Fred grins. “Is this the same Lando you disappeared to call last night?”

“I didn’t disappear,” Oscar says.

“You fully vanished,” Logan cuts in. “One minute you’re there, next minute I find you outside whispering like you’re in a romcom.”

“I was not whispering.”

“You were absolutely whispering,” Arthur says. “And smiling. It was disgusting.”

Oscar huffs, trying and failing to keep the small smile off his face as he picks up his drink. “You’re all being dramatic.”

“Mate,” Logan says, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, “you’re in love. As you’re best friends, it is our duty to mock you mercilessly.”

Oscar nearly chokes on his drink. “I’m not…”

Fred raises a brow. “You literally light up every time he texts.”

“That’s not…”

“You went outside at two in the morning to call him,” Arthur adds helpfully.

“It was morning for him,” Oscar says, like that explains anything.

It does not help his case.

Logan just grins. “Yeah, okay. You’re down bad.”

Oscar shakes his head, but he can feel the warmth creeping up his neck anyway, the embarrassment softened by the fact that none of it feels sharp. There’s no edge to it, no judgement.

“Shut up,” he mutters, but there’s no real bite to it.

Logan nudges his foot under the table. “We do like him, you know.”

Oscar glances up at that, caught slightly off guard.

Fred shrugs. “We’ve never seen you happier than we have since you two somewhat sorted things out in Hungary.”

Arthur nods, for once not making a joke. “It’s all true, we are happy for you but don’t for one second think we have forgotten that he did hurt you.”

“Yes,” Logan points a finger. “We’re supportive, but we’re also not stupid.”

Oscar frowns slightly. “What does that mean?”

Fred leans back in his chair, expression a little more serious now, though there’s still something easy about it. “It means we’re happy for you,” he says. “Genuinely. You’re lighter, it’s good to see.”

Arthur nods once. “But we remember what it was like before.”

Oscar’s grip tightens slightly around his glass.

Logan shrugs, tone casual but eyes steady. “We’re not saying don’t get back with him. Just don’t let him get away with hurting you again.”

“And don’t let yourself pretend he isn’t the one that hurt you in the first place,” Fred adds.

Arthur points at him. “Yeah. If he messes up, we’re reminding you, repeatedly.”

Logan snorts. “Loudly.”

Oscar exhales slowly, something warm and tight settling in his chest at the same time. “I’m not, I promise,” he says quietly. “We’re going to talk about it. Lando doesn’t want to go any further until we do, and I… I’m definitely not ready to be hurt again so yeah, we’re going to talk.”

Fred nods, like that’s what he hoped to hear. “Good.”

Logan studies him for a moment before nodding once. “Alright,” he says. “Then we’ll allow it.”

“Generous,” Oscar mutters.

Arthur lifts his glass. “Temporary approval only.”

“Conditional,” Fred agrees.

Logan grins. “Very conditional.”

The tension breaks as quickly as it came.

Logan claps his hands together once, breaking it instantly. “Anyway, if he hurts you again, we’re fighting him.”

Arthur nods, serious for half a second. “Yeah, I call first punch.”

Fred snorts. “You’d miss.”

“I would not miss.”

“You absolutely would.”

Oscar huffs out a laugh despite himself, shaking his head.

Logan nudges his foot under the table. “We’ve got your back, alright?”

Oscar glances at him, then at the others, something steady settling in his chest. “Yeah,” he says, softer. “I know.”

Logan claps his hands together once. “Right, emotional moment over.”

Arthur groans. “Thank god.”

Fred raises his glass again. “Back to making fun of Oscar.”

Oscar narrows his eyes. “Don’t…”

His phone buzzes, all three of them look at it, then at him.

Logan grins slowly. “Go on,” nudging Oscar’s phone toward him as it buzzes again. “He’s probably wondering why you’ve only replied in thirty seconds instead of ten.”

Oscar doesn’t move.

Arthur leans forward. “Answer your boyfriend.”

“He’s not…”

“Answer him,” Fred cuts in.

Oscar flips him off without looking, already picking up the phone.

Behind him, Arthur groans loudly. “He’s gone, we’ve lost him.”

“Fully whipped,” Fred agrees.

“Down catastrophic,” Logan adds.

Oscar doesn’t even bother denying it, he’s smiling too much for that.

…

They end up at a tiny lookout one afternoon, the kind you only find because Arthur refuses to follow directions and Logan insists he knows a shortcut. It takes them forty minutes longer than it should and they complain the whole way.

By the time they get there, they’re half sunburnt, a bit sweaty, and already arguing about whose fault it was.

“Yours,” Fred says immediately, dropping onto the low stone wall.

“It was not mine,” Arthur shoots back. “Logan said left.”

“I said maybe left,” Logan corrects, kicking at a loose stone. “That’s different.”

Oscar just laughs, shaking his head as he leans back against the railing, the view stretching out in front of them, water catching the light, the whole place quiet in a way that feels a world away from race weekends and constant noise.

Logan glances over. “You gonna take a photo or just stand there appreciating the vibes?”

Oscar snorts. “I can do both.”

“Debatable,” Arthur mutters.

Oscar ignores him, pulling his phone out anyway, snapping a couple of photos, one of the view, one of the three of them mid-argument, Logan mid-eye roll, Fred laughing, Arthur pointing like he’s making a very serious point about something completely irrelevant.

He sends the photo without thinking. Lando replies almost instantly. ‘Why does the three of them together look like a disaster waiting to happen?’

Oscar huffs a quiet laugh.

“What?” Logan asks immediately, zeroing in.

“Nothing.”

“Liar,” Fred says.

Arthur leans over Oscar’s shoulder. “Show us.”

Oscar tilts the phone away, already typing back. ‘Because it 100% is’.

“Unbelievable,” Logan says. “He’s texting him again.”

“It’s been, what, two minutes?” Fred adds.

Arthur sighs dramatically. “We bring him to a scenic lookout and he’s still thinking about his boyfriend.”

“He’s not my…”

“Boyfriend,” all three of them repeat, completely in sync.

Oscar exhales, but there’s no heat in it. “You’re all so annoying.”

“Yeah,” Logan says easily. “But you love us.”

Oscar glances at them, at the way they’ve spread out, comfortable, loud, familiar in a way that feels solid and easy. “Yeah,” he admits.

Arthur perks up. “Did he just say that?”

“Write it down,” Fred adds. “Rare moment.”

Logan grins. “Frame it.”

Oscar shakes his head, but he’s smiling, tucking his phone back into his pocket as he looks out over the water again.

Behind him, Arthur starts up the argument again about directions, Logan immediately jumping back in, Fred laughing like he’s heard it all before.

…

Later that night, when the others have started to wind down, Oscar slips outside, phone pressed to his ear, pacing slowly along the balcony. It’s quieter out there, easier to hear Lando, easier to just exist in that space with him.

They don’t talk about anything important. Lando asks questions about what they did that day, what they’re going to do tomorrow. Oscar asks the same in return and listens whilst Lando complains about something to do with Quadrant, Oscar responding in that dry, steady way that always seems to make Lando laugh.

“Are they still taking the piss out of you?” Lando asks, voice warm through the phone.

Oscar huffs softly. “Constantly.”

“Good,” Lando says. “Means they like me.”

Oscar laugh “Yeah? How do you figure that?.”

“Just do,” Lando replies easily. “I’m charming.”

Oscar rolls his eyes, even though Lando can’t see it. “Sure.”

The call lingers in that way they always do now, neither of them quite hanging up when they probably should. There’s the faint sound of movement on Lando’s end, something rustling, a door closing, the quiet shift from conversation into something softer, more private.

“I should probably get some sleep,” Oscar says, even though he doesn’t move to end it.

“Yeah,” Lando agrees, but he doesn’t sound convinced.

Oscar hums, leaning his shoulder more firmly against the cool wall outside, gaze drifting out over nothing in particular. “Big day tomorrow.”

“Mm.”

Neither of them says goodbye.

Oscar hears Lando exhale softly, like he’s about to speak and then thinks better of it. It happens twice, the start of something, the stop of it. Oscar doesn’t push, he just waits, quiet, steady.

Then, softer this time, almost like it slips out before Lando can catch it, “I miss you.”

Oscar’s chest tightens slightly, something steady and certain settling there. “Yeah,” he says, quieter now. “I miss you too.”

“See you in two days?” Lando says like a question, the hope in his evident.

Oscar is halfway through a sentence about something cringe the McLaren media team made him do this weekend, when they come to a stop outside his door. He had decided to dip out of the post-race celebration early, his social battery well and truly drained after a demanding race weekend.

Logan had decided to ditch at the same time, his reasoning being that Oscar is “housing his arse” for the weekend so he’s not letting Oscar walk home alone.

The hallway is quiet, late enough that most of the building has settled. It feels like one of those in-between moments, where nothing in particular is happening. Before Oscar can move to unlock his door, Logan steps in front of him. He is close which isn’t enough that it immediately sets anything off, but he’s close enough that Oscar registers it somewhere in the back of his mind.

He shifts his weight slightly, look down at his keys in his hand, then looks back up. “Logan I need to…”

Logan cuts in lightly, a crooked smile already forming. “If you’re about to kick me out, at least lie and say you had a great time first.”

It catches Oscar off guard enough that a laugh slips out. So he’s slightly distracted when Logan takes a small step closer. Logan’s hand brushes his waist. Oscar’s laugh falters, attention snagging on it, on the way Logan doesn’t pull back straight away. He looks up, meeting Logan’s eyes, something uncertain flickering through him.

“What?” Oscar asks, a small, confused smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Logan doesn’t answer, there’s just a second, a pause that stretches a fraction too long, where Oscar can see something change in his expression, something more deliberate, more resolved. That’s when he notices that Logan is leaning in.

Oscar has time to realise what’s happening. He has time to react, to step back, to turn his head, to stop it before it happens, but the shock of it, the sheer unexpectedness, roots him in place for that split second too long.

Logan’s lips press against his. They’re soft, tentative and careful in a way that makes it clear Logan has thought about this, has worked up to it.

And Oscar just… freezes. He doesn’t kiss him back, there’s no instinctive response, no muscle memory the way there was with Lando, no pull to lean in further. But he doesn’t push him away either. He’s caught in a strange space, mind scrambling to catch up whilst his body is lagging behind.

The kiss only lasts a couple of seconds before Logan pulls back, his hand still on Oscar’s waist.

Oscar blinks at him, still processing, still trying to find his footing again. “Oh,” he says, a little breathless, a little disoriented. “I…”

Logan exhales sharply. “Right,” he says, wincing slightly. “That… didn’t exactly go as smoothly as it did in my head.”

Despite everything, a small, disbelieving laugh slips out of Oscar. It catches him off guard just as much as the kiss did, the way the tension cracks just enough for something lighter to come through. “Yeah,” he admits.

Logan huffs out a quiet laugh of his own, shoulders relaxing a fraction. “Thought I’d commit, you know? Go all in.”

“You always do,” Oscar says, shaking his head slightly, the smile lingering even as his thoughts catch up properly now.

Logan’s mouth quirks. “Charming, some might say.”

“Some would be wrong.”

That earns him a proper grin.

The air settles a little, not quite back to normal, but not uncomfortable either.

Oscar glances at the door, then back at Logan. “Can I unlock the door now?”

Logan shrugs, easy again. “Yeah, might as well.”

Inside, everything feels strangely ordinary. Oscar drops his keys onto the counter, the familiar clink grounding him a little as he moves further into the apartment. He shrugs his jacket off, tossing it over the back of a chair, aware of Logan’s presence behind him, quieter now, more watchful.

When he turns back, Logan’s leaning against the kitchen bench, arms folded loosely, expression more serious than it was out in the hallway. There’s no avoiding it now.

Logan lets out a slow breath. “Okay,” he says. “So… that happened.”

Oscar nods. “Yeah.”

There’s another small pause as Logan pushes off the bench slightly, not closing the distance, just standing a little straighter. “Look I like you Oscar,” he says, simple, direct, no attempt to soften it. “Have for a while.”

Oscar feels something tighten briefly in his chest, not from surprise, not really, but from the weight of what that means, what it deserves in return. “Oh.”

“And I’m guessing,” Logan continues, tone lighter but eyes searching, “based on your response out there, the feelings aren’t exactly mutual.”

Oscar hesitates for a second, not wanting to hurt his friends, but eventually does shake his head. “No.” He pauses, watching as Logan’s smile dims just slightly. “I’m sorry Logan, I really am,” he adds, because it matters.

Logan nods straight away, like he expected it, like he’d already run through this version of the conversation in his head. “It’s okay Oscar, if I’m being honest the realistic part of me never expected you to like me back.”

Oscar leans back against the counter, grounding himself again. “It’s not you,” he says, quieter now. “I just…” He exhales, scrubbing a hand briefly over the back of his neck. “I still love him.” Saying it out loud lands heavier than he expects, but it’s true, it’s always been true.

Logan’s expression shifts, something softer settling there, not hurt exactly, just understanding. “I know,” he says.

“I’m still…” Oscar continues, searching for the right words, “holding out hope that it might work out. That we’ll find our way back to each other.” He meets Logan’s eyes properly. “And it wouldn’t be fair to you if I agreed to anything when that’s where my head’s at.”

Logan studies him for a second, then nods, slow and certain. “No,” he agrees. “It wouldn’t.”

There’s no resentment in Logan’s words, no edge, which chips away at some of the tension Oscar still feels.

Logan’s mouth quirks a second later, tension easing. “Also,” he adds, lighter again, “Let’s be honest, you and Lando are endgame anyway. What is it the fan girlies call you? Landoscar?” Logan finishes with a full smirk.

“Oh god,” Oscar groans.

“What?” Logan asks innocently. “I’m just saying what the people online are.”

Oscar huffs out a small laugh. “How are you so confident about it? That Lando and I will end up back together.”

“Because I’ve seen the way you look at him,” Logan says simply.

Oscar drops his gaze briefly, a faint flush creeping back in. “Yeah.”

“And the way he looks at you?” Logan continues. “Even worse.”

That pulls another small smile from Oscar.

“So,” Logan shrugs before a look of seriousness settles over him. “Look, I didn’t mean to start liking you Oscar, realistically I knew I’d never really have a chance with Lando still in the picture. But you’re so damn likeable you don’t even realise.”

Oscar feels his face flush but doesn’t interrupt.

Logan continues. “So I figured I’d shoot my shot, just in case the universe decided to be weird for once. Think I would’ve regretted it if I didn’t,” Logan says. “Now I know and I’m okay with it, I promise.”

“Are you sure?” Oscar asks quietly.

Logan nods with a smile. “Yeah Oscar, I’m sure.”

They fall quiet for a moment, the conversation settling into something steadier, something that doesn’t feel like it’s about to break.

“Still friends?” Oscar asks eventually, attempting for casual but there’s something a little more careful underneath it.

Logan doesn’t even think about it. “Yeah, of course. Lando might be the love of your life but I get the best friend spot.”

Oscar laughs, the relief evident on his face.

“Plus,” Logan continues. “Would’ve been a shame to ruin a perfectly good friendship over something that didn’t even get off the ground.”

“Agreed,” Oscar says.

Logan nudges his shoulder lightly as he pushes himself off the bench. “You alright?”

Oscar nods. “Yeah.” And he is, because this could have ended entirely different, it could’ve been messy, it could’ve shifted something permanently. But it hasn’t, and they’re good. “I’m glad I have you,” Oscar says, before he can overthink it.

Logan pauses, glancing back at him, something genuine in his expression now. “Yeah,” he says. “Me too.”

***

The next morning Oscar wakes slowly, it’s the kind of morning where everything feels a little heavier, a little slower to come into focus. For a second, he forgets but then it all settles back in, the conversation with Logan, the way things had shifted but not broken, the solid understanding they had landed on.

He stares at the ceiling for a moment, letting it sit, letting himself feel it properly before pushing himself up. The apartment is quiet except for the faint clatter of something in the kitchen, Logan must already be up.

Oscar drags a hand through his hair, then swings his legs over the side of the bed, padding out into the main space. Logan is indeed already up, leaning against the counter with his phone in one hand and a piece of toast in the other, looking far too awake for this early.

“Morning,” Oscar mutters, heading straight for the fridge.

“Morning,” Logan replies easily. “Sleep alright?”

“Yeah,” Oscar says, because it’s mostly true. “You?”

“Couch wasn’t as tragic as expected,” Logan says. “Might start reviewing furniture.”

Oscar huffs a quiet laugh, reaching for the milk.

Logan glances down at his phone again, expression shifting slightly. “Shit, man,” he says, straightening a little. “Have you seen this?”

Oscar frowns, turning slightly. “Seen what?”

Logan walks over, holding his phone out.

Oscar takes it without thinking. It takes a second for him to register what he’s looking at but then they hit all at once. Headlines and photos, all involving Lando, some showing Lando with blood running down the side of his face.

“What?” Oscar breathes, eyes scanning quickly, trying to piece together what he’s reading. There’s talk of a bar and a physical altercation. Oscar’s chest tightens, something sharp and immediate flooding in. “That’s…” he starts, then stops, swallowing hard. “That’s not…”

He hands the phone back a little too quickly, already reaching for his own. His fingers feel clumsy as he unlocks it, pulling up Lando’s contact without thinking. He hesitates for half a second before typing out, ‘Are you okay? Please let me know you’re alright.’ Then hits send before he can second guess it. The message is marked as sent instantly.

Oscar and Logan go about their morning as usual, heading out for an Arturri approved workout and breakfast. By the time they’re back at Oscar’s apartment a few hours later, there’s still no response from Lando.

Oscar exhales slowly, dragging a hand down his face. He knows rationally that if something did actually happen, then Lando’s probably dealing with media, with the team, with everything that comes with something like this.

Logan watches him for a second, quieter now. “He’ll be fine,” Logan says after a moment, tone steady. “If it’s real, he’s probably just busy dealing with it.”

Oscar nods, even though the tightness in his chest doesn’t ease. “Yeah,” he says. “I know.”

“He’ll get back to you,” Logan adds. “When he can.”

Oscar glances down at his phone again, at the empty screen. “Yeah.”

Logan nudges his shoulder lightly as he passes, grabbing another piece of toast. “Worst case,” he says, “you’ll be back at the MTC soon enough, you can talk to him then.”

Oscar nods again, this time more certain. “Yeah,” he says. “No I uh… I know, you’re right.” He sets his phone down on the counter, even though his eyes keep flicking back to it, waiting, hoping, and trying not to let his mind run too far ahead of itself.

“He’ll be okay Oscar,” Logan says again, softer this time.

Oscar lets out a slow breath. “I’m being pathetic aren’t I?”

Logan snorts. “Just a little bit.”

Oscar rolls his eyes, but there’s no bite to it, just a quiet huff of breath as he shakes his head. “Cheers.”

“Anytime,” Logan says easily, already turning back to the counter like nothing about this is heavy or complicated.

Oscar watches him for a second, something like gratitude settling low in his chest. His gaze drifts back to his phone without meaning to, the screen still blank. He presses his lips together, thumb hovering for a second like he might check again, like something will have magically changed. He sets it back down with a quiet exhale, dragging a hand through his hair.

“He’ll text,” Logan says, not even looking up this time.

Oscar nods, even though it still feels like he’s waiting on something more than just a message. “Yeah,” he says. “I know.”

They fall into a quieter rhythm after that, the kind that doesn’t need filling. The microwave beeps behind him, and Oscar reaches for it automatically just to have something to do with his hands.

Outside, the day keeps moving, everything keeps moving, and eventually, he will too. For now, though, he just stands there, phone within reach, trying to be patient, trying to believe that when Lando does answer, it’ll be enough to settle the restless feeling sitting just under his skin.

***

Only Lando never responds. Nor does he respond to any of the other messages Oscar sent in his paranoid worry. By the time they’re back at the MTC, the silence has stretched into something heavier, something harder to ignore. Oscar tries to play it off at first, tells himself Lando’s just busy, managing the fallout. But he finds himself asking anyway, casual where he can make it sound that way. To a mechanic in the garage, to one of the performance engineers, to Jon when he passes him in the corridor. “Have you seen Lando?” “Is he alright?” Each answer is the same variation of a shrug, a vague yeah, he’s around, probably in meetings, nothing that settles the unease building in Oscar’s chest.

It takes longer than he wants to admit for the pattern to click into place. The way Lando always seems to be just leaving when Oscar arrives somewhere. The way conversations cut short, paths diverted, timing just off enough to feel deliberate. Lando is avoiding him.

So Oscar adjusts. He stops trying to catch him by chance and instead waits where he knows Lando has to come back to eventually, leaning against the wall opposite the driver rooms, arms folded, ankle hooked over the other like he’s got all the time in the world.

Oscar waits longer than he means to. And it’s not just that he wants to make sure Lando is okay, it’s that he can’t stop thinking about Lando kissing him, or a brush of lips, or whatever it was. He’s been thinking about it since it happened, since that moment in his apartment where everything had shifted, where Lando had looked at him like he still mattered.

Oscar exhales slowly, dragging his thoughts back into line. He just wants clarity, he’s spent the whole race weekend turning it over in his head, replaying it, wondering if he imagined it, if he read too much into it, if Lando even remembers it the same way.

Then there’s also the part of him that wants to grab himself by the shoulders and shake him for stopping Lando from kissing him. He knows exactly why he did though. It wasn’t that he didn’t want it, because he did, god he did. He’s replayed it enough times to know that much for certain. He had wanted to take that step but there had been something else layered underneath it, something that felt like caution and fear. The memory of how it felt the last time when everything between them was good, only to have it all fall apart when Lando wasn’t in a place to hold onto it.

Oscar presses his lips together, jaw tightening slightly as he stares down the corridor.

He doesn’t know if Lando had meant to kiss him, if it had been a moment, or something real, or just another thing caught up in everything Lando has been trying to untangle lately. He doesn’t know if Lando is in a good place yet, if he even wants this, or if Oscar is about to step back into something that will unravel it all over again.

So Oscar didn’t kiss him because he can’t risk putting himself back in that position, hoping for something Lando isn’t ready to give.

His grip tightens slightly where his arms are folded, nails pressing faintly into his skin.

Because there’s a version of that moment where he doesn’t stop. Where he lets it happen, lets himself have it without thinking about consequences or timing or whether it’s the right decision. And maybe that version of him is happier, even if it’s only temporary.

But this version, the one standing here now, waiting, heart caught somewhere between hope and dread, knows better. He just doesn’t know if it was the right choice, and that’s what’s been sitting under his skin all weekend. The not knowing what it meant and whether stopping it saved him, or ruined whatever chance they might have had.

Footsteps echo down the hallway. Oscar looks up and catches sight of Lando looking like a deer caught in headlights. Oscar straightens immediately, pushing off the wall, something tightening in his chest that has nothing to do with frustration and everything to do with relief. “Lando.”

Lando stops. There’s a flicker of something across his face, something Oscar can’t quite place, before it smooths out into something neutral.

Oscar steps closer. “What’s going on?”

Lando blinks, like he wasn’t expecting that. “What do you mean?”

Oscar’s jaw tightens. “Seriously?”

Lando shrugs, trying for casual, and missing it completely.

Oscar exhales sharply through his nose. “You’ve been avoiding me all day.”

Lando looks past him, down the corridor. “I haven’t.”

Oscar just looks at him as if daring Lando to keep lying straight to his face.

Lando’s shoulders tense. “I’ve just been busy, had one of those days where they schedule everything back to back, you know?”

Oscar lets out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Busy enough to leave every room I walk into?”

Lando doesn’t answer which is answer enough.

Something shifts in Oscar’s chest, frustration giving way to something sharper, hurt. “I thought…” He stops, swallowing past it. “I thought we were becoming friends again.” It’s not even what he came here to say but he figures friends is a safe place to start, especially considering Lando has already called them that.

Lando’s reaction is immediate, something tightening across his face. “I’m sorry if it seemed like that.”

Oscar blinks, the implication of those words spreading over him “If it seemed like that?”

Lando’s eyes widen slightly, like he realises it too late. “Oscar, no, I didn’t mean us not being friends, we’re friends, course we are. I just meant I’m sorry if it seemed like I was avoiding you.” He sighs. “I don’t know. I’ve just had a lot on.”

Oscar studies him because it doesn’t feel like the truth. He doesn’t push it though because something about Lando looks off. Tighter than usual, something sitting under the surface that Oscar can’t quite reach.

His gaze shifts upward instead, catching on the dressing above Lando’s eyebrow and everything else drops away immediately. “Are you okay?” He steps closer without thinking, hand lifting toward the cut. Lando flinches, hard, and Oscar drops his hand like he’s been stung. “Oh.” The word slips out before he can stop it, quiet, more hurt than he means it to be.

Lando rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry. It still hurts, that’s all.”

Oscar nods slowly, but that’s not it, he knows it’s not it. “What happened, Lando?”

For a second, Lando looks like he’s searching for something, then he answers, easy, too easy. “Went out after the team’s celebrations, someone recognised me, thought they’d make some comments thanks to good old liquid courage. He got in my face, I tried to stop it, he took a swing. Got left with this.”

Oscar blinks. “Right,” he says, mouth twitching before he can help himself. “So your night didn’t exactly end the way you probably planned then.”

Lando’s expression shifts instantly into something darker. “No,” he says, and there’s something sharp in it. “No, it definitely didn’t.”

Oscar’s small smile fades and confusion creeps back in. The conversation feels off, like they’re slightly out of sync, like every response is landing just wrong.

“Did you enjoy the after party?” Lando eventually breaks the stretching silence.

The question catches Oscar off guard. He hesitates for a fraction of a second, then answers carefully. “Yeah, I had a good time.”

Lando nods. “It looked like you had a good time with Arthur, Fred and…” Lando’s voice tightens slightly, “…Logan.”

Oscar’s expression softens at the thought of the three people he’s started calling his closest friends. “Yeah, I did,” he says. “They’ve become really good friends.”

“That’s good,” Lando says quickly. “Really good.”

Oscar frowns faintly.

Lando keeps going. “It’s good that you’ve got friends like them.”

Oscar nods slowly. “Yeah.”

“People outside the team.”

“…Sure.”

“People your age.”

Oscar’s brow furrows properly now. “…Okay.” Where is this going? He watches Lando carefully, trying to piece together what Lando is saying because his confusion is only multiplying, not receding. Oscar takes a breath, getting ready to steer the conversation back to where he needs it to go. “Lando,” he says carefully, “can we talk now?” His voice softens slightly. “Since we didn’t get the chance to after Monaco.”

There’s a flicker of something in Lando’s eyes that makes Oscar’s pulse spike. “I actually can’t remember what I wanted to talk to you about,” Lando says, shrugging.

Oscar just stares at him. For a second, he genuinely thinks Lando is joking. “Lando.”

Lando looks away.

Something in Oscar’s chest sinks. “I was hoping we could talk about us,” Oscar says anyway, pushing through it, because he didn’t wait all day for this to fall apart now.

“I’m happy we’re friends again,” Lando cuts in.

Oscar blinks. “Yeah, me too, but that’s not what I want to talk about.”

“It’s good that we’re getting along,” Lando continues. “For the team.”

“For the team?” Oscar repeats, thrown.

“Yeah.”

Oscar’s frown deepens. “Lando, when we were at my apartment…”

“And it’s good that you’ve got people too.”

Oscar stops. “What?” He’s starting to get frustrated now, why won’t Lando let him talk?

“Arthur, Fred and… Logan.”

Oscar’s confusion is mixing with the frustration now. “I really don’t understand what you’re saying, Lando.”

“I just think it’s good that you’re moving forward.”

Oscar blinks. “Moving forward from what?”

Lando doesn’t look at him. “It’s good you’ve got a support network around you,” he says. “People you can turn to. It’s important in your rookie year.”

Oscar shakes his head, a hollow feeling starting to open up in his chest. “No, Lando, seriously. What are you talking about?”

“I just mean it’s good that you’re meeting people and spending time with them and not waiting around.”

Oscar’s stomach drops. “Waiting around for what?” he asks, even though something in him already knows.

“For anything really,” Lando says, voice unsteady now. “You’re living your life and that’s good.”

Oscar tries again, pushes forward. “Lando, that’s not what I was trying to…”

“You should keep doing that.”

Oscar’s feels the first crack form. “Doing what?”

“Moving forward with your life.”

The words land hard and suddenly, everything clicks into place in the worst possible way. The avoidance, the distance, the way Lando won’t look at him. Oscar had come here to talk about them, about the almost kiss, about whether it meant something, about whether there was still something there. But Lando clearly thinks there isn’t, what other reason would he have for telling Oscar to move on if whatever was there between them is over. This is Lando being kind about it, trying to let him down gently by telling him to go out, meet people, have fun. Telling Oscar not to wait around for something that isn’t coming back.

Oscar’s chest tightens painfully. He just stands there, staring at him, completely at a loss for words.

Lando nods once, like he’s said something good, something helpful. “I’m glad we’re friends again,” he says softly.

Friends, the word lands like a finality.

Oscar feels winded. “Lando…” he starts, but he doesn’t even know what he’s trying to say anymore.

Lando is already stepping around him. “See you at the next race.” And then he’s gone.