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The club breathed with its own restless pulse.
Light spilled across the room in slow tides of violet and sapphire, dissolving faces into silhouettes before revealing them again a heartbeat later. The music was loud enough to swallow conversation, yet beneath the relentless bass lived another kind of noise: glasses meeting polished tables, laughter born from expensive liquor, strangers leaning close enough to mistake proximity for intimacy. It was the sort of place where every smile looked convincing under colored lights, and every lonely person could disappear without ever leaving the room.
In one corner of the private section, away from the shifting crowd, Lando Norris remained untouched by the night's promise.
He sat with one leg crossed over the other, fingers loosely circling a glass that had long since begun collecting beads of condensation. The amber liquor inside had barely moved. It reflected the fractured lights overhead, breaking them into thin ribbons of gold before letting them drown again.
His white button-up was crisp despite the late hour, tucked neatly into tailored black trousers that still held the careful lines from earlier that evening. A few buttons rested open, exposing the tan line of his throat where a silver chain disappeared beneath the collar, catching the occasional flash of light like a quiet constellation. His curls had escaped whatever attempt had been made to tame them before he left the hotel. They fell over his forehead in loose waves, softening a face that tonight seemed incapable of finding rest.
He looked as though he belonged among the polished crowd.
He felt as though he had arrived by mistake.
His phone lay beside the untouched drink.
The screen remained dark.
It had been almost a week since he and Oscar had spoken without something interrupting them.
One was in another country while the other watched evening gather beyond the hotel window. One woke to good morning texts hours after the morning had already passed. Calls became shorter. Replies grew slower. Days slipped quietly into weeks until silence no longer announced itself. It simply settled between them like dust upon forgotten furniture, so gradually that neither of them could remember exactly when the room had become unrecognizable.
When Oscar finally called, Lando had done the one thing he had promised himself he never would.
He let absence speak louder than reason.
The frustration he had carried for weeks escaped all at once, sharp enough to wound both of them before he even realized what he was saying. By the time the call ended, every sentence he wished he had swallowed remained suspended between them, impossible to retrieve.
Afterward, Oscar had called back. Then again. Messages followed, each one gentler than the last, each carrying the quiet insistence of someone trying to mend what had broken.
Lando had seen every notification appear across his screen. He had read enough to know they deserved an answer. Instead, he locked the phone, convinced that another conversation would only end the way the last one had.
Anger often mistakes itself for certainty. By the time it gives way to regret, the silence it creates has already learned how to remain.
The cruelest form of distance was not measured in miles but in unanswered words. Countries could be crossed in a matter of hours; a single unanswered call could outlast them all. Some silences belonged to circumstance. Others were chosen in anger, only to become prisons long after the anger itself had faded.
"You've been glaring at that whiskey for the last ten minutes."
Max's voice cut through the current of his thoughts with familiar ease.
Lando looked up to find him standing beside the booth, a bottle balanced carelessly between his fingers and an expression that suggested he had been watching this quiet spiral for longer than Lando had realized.
"I wasn't glaring."
"No?" Max slipped into the seat opposite him. "Then I feel sorry for the drink. It looks terrified."
Despite himself, the corner of Lando's mouth twitched.
"There you are," Max said, noticing immediately. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten how."
Lando let out a quiet breath that might have become a laugh if he had allowed it.
"I just... can't stop thinking."
"I know."
"It's stupid."
"No," Max replied. "It's human."
For a moment neither of them spoke. Around them, another song began, louder than the last. Someone somewhere shouted with delight as another round of drinks arrived. The night carried on around them, oblivious to the quiet grief tucked away in the corner of a leather booth.
Max leaned back against the seat and regarded him with the calm patience of someone who knew better than to force comfort where it would not fit.
"You love him."
Lando looked down at the glass in his hands.
"Yeah."
"And he loves you."
"...I know."
"You had a fight."
Lando was quiet for a moment.
"I don't know if I'd call it that."
Max waited.
Lando let out a slow breath.
"I just... missed him."
The confession felt almost too small to explain everything it had become.
"I missed him, and I got tired of pretending I didn't. Every week it felt like there was less time. Less conversation. Less... us." He gave a humorless laugh. "I knew he was busy. I knew I was busy. Neither of us asked for schedules like this."
He rolled the glass slowly between his palms, watching the ice drift with it.
"But knowing that doesn't make it easier."
Max nodded once.
"So you snapped."
"Yeah."
"You said things you didn't mean."
Another nod.
"And then he tried calling you."
Lando's jaw tightened.
"...Yeah."
"And you ignored him."
Silence.
Max leaned back, studying him for a long moment before speaking again.
"You're allowed to be angry, Lan."
Lando looked up.
"You're allowed to miss him. Hell, I'd be worried if you didn't."
His voice remained calm, stripped of judgment.
"But you're making yourself suffer now."
Lando turned the glass slowly, listening to the ice tap softly against the crystal.
"I hate that I snapped at him."
"I know."
The answer came so simply that it almost hurt.
"You know what the worst part is?"
Lando didn't answer.
"You wanted him closer."
Max gestured toward the phone lying face down on the table.
"And now you're the one keeping him away."
Neither of them spoke for a while.
The music swelled around them. Somewhere beyond the booth, strangers raised fresh bottles and cheered as though nothing in the world had ever been broken.
Max reached across the table, took the untouched whiskey from Lando's hand, and lifted it slightly.
"Tomorrow, you can decide whether you're done being an idiot."
A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of Lando's mouth.
"There he is," Max murmured.
He placed the glass back into Lando's waiting fingers.
"Tonight, you drink."
Lando studied the amber liquid for a long moment before finally lifting it toward his lips. He knew it would not solve anything. It would not undo the words he had said or shorten the distance that had grown between them. But for one night, he wanted the noise in his head to become quieter than the music around him.
Not because the ache had disappeared.
Only because carrying it for another hour suddenly felt heavier than the glass itself.
The whiskey burned on the way down.
Not pleasantly. Not painfully. Just enough to remind him that he was still capable of feeling something other than the dull weight that had followed him into the club.
Max lifted his own bottle in quiet approval before taking a drink, choosing, for once, not to fill the silence. Some conversations exhausted themselves long before the people having them did.
For a while, they simply watched the room.
The club continued its endless performance. Waitresses threaded effortlessly through the crowd with silver trays balanced on practiced hands. The lights shifted again, turning sapphire into crimson before dissolving into gold. Somewhere near the center of the dance floor, a circle of strangers erupted into cheers over a joke that would be forgotten before the night was over.
Lando took another sip, then another. The first glass disappeared without his noticing. A second arrived with little ceremony, placed before him by a bartender who recognized neither his face nor the quiet unraveling behind it.
Max said something about the race weekend ahead.
Lando answered.
Or at least he thought he did.
The conversation drifted between them like smoke, settling nowhere for very long. They spoke about ordinary things because ordinary things demanded less courage than the truth.
The second glass emptied more quickly than the first.
Somewhere between one song ending and another beginning, someone from the group wandered over and pulled Max into a debate about music that neither of them seemed particularly invested in winning. Lando listened with half an ear, offering the occasional laugh whenever everyone else did.
His own laughter came easier now. Not because anything had become funny, but because the edges of everything had begun to soften.
The music no longer pressed against his skull. It wrapped around him instead, dulling the corners of his thoughts until they no longer seemed sharp enough to draw blood.
Someone slid another drink toward him.
He accepted it without asking what it was.
Time, he discovered, dissolved far more easily than ice.
Glasses were exchanged. Songs bled into one another until they sounded like different verses of the same melody. Faces blurred into familiar expressions worn by unfamiliar people.
At some point, Max clapped a hand against his shoulder.
"Come on."
Lando frowned.
"What?"
"We're dancing."
"I don't dance."
Max laughed.
"That's a lie."
"It isn't."
"It absolutely is."
Another voice joined in, followed by another, each insisting with the relentless optimism reserved for people who had already had enough to drink.
Lando resisted for exactly three seconds before he found himself being pulled to his feet. The room shifted slightly beneath him, not enough to make him stumble, just enough to remind him that he had probably lost count somewhere along the way.
The dance floor welcomed him without asking permission.
Lights skimmed over lifted hands and smiling faces, dissolving everyone into movement rather than identity. The music settled beneath his skin, its rhythm replacing thought with instinct. Someone laughed beside him. Someone else spun past with a drink held dangerously close to disaster.
Lando laughed too.
A genuine one this time.
For the first time that evening, he wasn't thinking about unanswered calls or unread messages. The ache had not disappeared; it had merely stepped into the background, waiting patiently for its turn to return.
Minutes passed.
Or perhaps an hour.
He couldn't have said.
By the time he wandered back toward the bar, warmth had settled comfortably beneath his skin, and the room had taken on the pleasant, dreamlike quality that belonged only to people who had stopped counting drinks long ago.
He leaned both forearms against the polished counter and smiled lazily at the bartender.
"Another."
The word came easier than it should have.
The glass was filled.
He finished it.
Then asked for another.
Somewhere behind him, the music changed again, louder than before, and the crowd answered with another wave of cheers.
By then, the line between warmth and drunkenness had become too blurred for Lando to notice.
He only knew that the silence in his chest had finally grown quiet.
For a little while, Lando believed that was enough.
The thought lasted only until someone stepped into the empty space beside him at the bar. He noticed the presence before he noticed the person, a shift in the air, a familiar warmth cutting through the mixture of alcohol, perfume, and smoke that lingered throughout the club.
For a brief second, his unfocused gaze lifted.
The shape standing beside him looked almost familiar. Not familiar in the way strangers sometimes resembled people from memory, but familiar in a way that unsettled him. Like a song heard through a wall, recognizable without understanding why.
Then the feeling disappeared beneath the alcohol.
Lando blinked and looked back at his glass.
"Careful."
The voice made him pause. Something about it tugged at a place in his mind he couldn't quite reach.
"I'm fine," he said, though the words came slower than he intended.
The stranger glanced at the drink in his hand.
"That doesn't look like the face of someone who's fine."
Lando let out a quiet laugh.
"You sound like my friend."
"Your friend sounds smart."
"Annoying," Lando corrected.
The stranger smiled slightly, and for some reason, the expression unsettled him. Not because it was unfamiliar, but because it felt like something he had seen a hundred times before.
Lando stared for a moment too long.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You sure?"
"Yeah." Lando looked away. "For a second, I thought you were someone else."
The stranger's expression softened.
"Someone important?"
Lando didn't answer immediately.
The music continued around them, loud enough to hide the silence that followed.
"Yeah."
The stranger leaned against the bar beside him.
"Who?"
Lando looked down at the glass between his hands.
"Oscar."
The name left his mouth quietly, almost like a confession he hadn't meant to make.
The stranger didn't react, not visibly. But something changed in the way he looked at him.
"My boyfriend."
The words sat between them for a moment. They sounded strange after days of silence, not because they weren't true, but because he had spent so long acting as though saying them out loud would make everything hurt more.
Then Lando laughed quietly, shaking his head.
"I hate him."
The stranger glanced at him.
"Do you?"
"Yes."
There was no hesitation in the answer, only the kind of certainty that came from someone who didn't believe his own words.
"I hate his stupid smile."
A small smile threatened at the corner of the stranger's mouth.
"I hate his stupid eyes."
"Lando..."
"Don't."
The stranger stopped.
"Let me finish."
There was something almost desperate in the way he said it, like if he stopped now, everything he had kept hidden would disappear back into the place where he had buried it.
"I hate how he looks at me and somehow makes me forget what I was angry about. I hate that he does this thing with his eyes when he's looking at me, like he... like he loves me. Like he sees right through me and somehow still chooses me. I hate that he knows when I'm lying even when I think I'm doing a good job."
His fingers tightened slightly around the glass.
"I hate that he makes me smile when I don't want to."
The stranger looked down for a moment.
"That doesn't sound like hate."
"Shut up."
Despite the words, there was no anger behind them.
Lando stared at the drink in his hands for a moment before continuing.
"I hate his laugh too."
The stranger looked at him, amused.
"His laugh?"
"Yes." Lando nodded seriously. "It's annoying."
A pause.
Then his expression softened.
"Not really."
The stranger tried to hide his smile.
"And I hate his stupid front teeth."
The stranger blinked.
"His teeth?"
"His two front teeth." Lando pointed vaguely with the hand holding his glass. "Those stupid little bunny teeth."
For a moment, the stranger looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh.
"You hate them?"
Lando frowned.
"Yeah."
Another pause.
"They're cute."
The confession seemed to irritate him more than anything else.
"That's the problem. He's ridiculously hot and ridiculously cute at the same time. It's unfair."
The stranger looked away briefly, as though hiding a reaction.
"And I hate that..."
Lando stopped.
The words caught somewhere between his chest and his throat.
"That..."
He frowned, frustrated with himself.
"That I don't hate him."
The confession came out quieter than everything before it.
"I don't hate him."
A pause.
"I love him."
The stranger stayed silent.
And somehow, that silence made it easier.
"I just wish he knew that I wasn't angry because I didn't care. I was angry because I cared too much."
Lando looked down at the drink in his hands.
"That's the worst part, isn't it? Missing someone who is right there. Knowing they're yours, knowing you love them, and still feeling like you're losing them."
"He probably hates me right now."
The stranger frowned slightly.
"I doubt that."
"You don't know him."
"No," the stranger said softly. "I don't."
Lando laughed under his breath.
"He always does this thing where he goes quiet when he's upset. Not in a bad way. Just... he thinks before he says anything."
His fingers traced the edge of the glass.
"And I hate that about him."
A pause.
"I mean, I don't hate it."
The stranger smiled.
"I figured."
Lando looked at him, confused for a moment, before letting his gaze fall again.
"I just miss him."
The honesty of it surprised even him.
"I miss him being around. I miss stupid things. Like hearing him complain about something that doesn't matter. Or him pretending he isn't tired when he obviously is. I miss knowing what his day looked like."
His voice lowered.
"And then I got angry because I thought I was the only one feeling it."
The stranger stayed quiet.
Not the uncomfortable silence of someone waiting for their turn to speak, but the kind that allowed someone to keep going.
"I shouldn't have snapped."
Lando swallowed.
"I know I had a reason to be upset. I know I was hurt. But I didn't want to make him feel like he was failing me."
His eyes drifted toward the crowd, toward all the strangers moving beneath the lights.
"I just wanted him to miss me too."
For a moment, the stranger said nothing.
Then, quietly:
"Maybe he does."
Lando shook his head.
"You don't know that."
The stranger looked at him.
"Maybe I do."
The words barely registered through the fog in Lando's mind.
He looked closer, trying to understand why the stranger felt familiar. Why the scent of his cologne reminded him of hotel rooms, race weekends, and quiet moments stolen between impossible schedules.
For a second, he thought he saw him.
Not the stranger.
Oscar.
Standing there like he had stepped out of a memory.
But the thought vanished as quickly as it came.
Lando blinked.
"You're weird."
The stranger laughed softly.
"That's fair."
And somehow, impossibly, that made Lando smile.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
The silence between them was different now. It wasn't the heavy kind that had followed Lando for days, the kind filled with everything he and Oscar had failed to say. This one felt strangely gentle, almost like somewhere he could finally set the weight down without fearing it would still be there when he reached for it again.
The stranger remained beside him, close enough that Lando could feel the warmth radiating from him despite the haze of alcohol clouding his thoughts. Somewhere between the confession and the quiet that followed, the distance between them had quietly disappeared. He was no longer simply another man standing beside him at the bar. Somehow, he had wandered into the fragile space Lando had spent the entire evening trying to protect.
"I have a boyfriend," Lando said suddenly.
The stranger turned to look at him.
"I know."
"I mean it."
"I know you do."
There wasn't a trace of amusement in his voice. Only something quiet that made Lando's chest tighten.
"I love him," Lando murmured, almost as though he needed to hear the words himself.
"I know."
Lando frowned.
"You don't know anything."
A faint smile touched the stranger's lips.
"Maybe not."
The music continued around them, swallowing every other conversation in the room. Colored lights drifted lazily across the polished bar, washing everything in violet before fading into sapphire and gold. Lando knew he should have stepped away. Some small, sober corner of his mind understood that. But alcohol had blurred the line between knowing what was right and reaching for comfort wherever it appeared.
Slowly, giving him every chance to move away, the stranger lifted a hand and brushed a loose curl back from Lando's forehead. His fingers barely grazed his skin before falling away again.
Lando froze. He should have stepped back. Instead, he breathed in.
The scent reached him before reason did. Clean cotton. Warm cedar. The familiar trace of cologne that lingered in hotel rooms after long race weekends, in borrowed hoodies, against pillows where mornings always seemed too short.
Oscar.
The name echoed through him before his thoughts could catch up.
His eyes slipped shut for the briefest moment.
When they opened again, the stranger hadn't moved. They were still standing impossibly close, neither of them speaking. The music had become little more than a distant pulse beneath the sound of Lando's own heartbeat. Their eyes met, and for one suspended moment, the rest of the club simply ceased to exist.
The stranger leaned in slowly, slow enough that Lando could have walked away, slow enough that he could have turned his head.
He didn't.
Their foreheads almost brushed, warm breaths mingling in the narrow space between them.
"Lando..."
His name was spoken so softly it barely survived the music.
Then the stranger kissed him.
It wasn't demanding. It wasn't rushed. It was gentle enough to feel like a question rather than an answer, hesitant enough that Lando could have ended it before it truly began.
He didn't.
For one impossible heartbeat, he kissed him back.
Not because he wanted someone else.
Because every exhausted, alcohol-soaked part of his mind believed he already had the only person he wanted.
The warmth was familiar. The scent was familiar. The tenderness was familiar.
For one fragile second, the stranger wasn't a stranger at all.
He was Oscar.
Lando's fingers curled instinctively into the front of the man's shirt, returning the kiss without thinking, chasing the comfort he had spent days pretending he didn't need.
Then reality arrived.
Not all at once.
One unbearable thought at a time.
For one impossible second...
He had forgotten.
Forgotten that the person standing in front of him wasn't Oscar.
Forgotten long enough to kiss him back.
Lando pulled away so abruptly the room seemed to tilt beneath him. His breathing caught somewhere in his throat as his hand flew to his mouth, his eyes widening with dawning horror.
"What did I..."
The words dissolved before they became a sentence.
"No."
He stumbled back another step.
"No... no."
The stranger instinctively reached toward him.
"Lando—"
"I can't."
His voice cracked under the weight of it.
"I have a boyfriend."
The stranger's hand stopped in midair.
"I have Oscar."
Panic tore through him so violently it cut straight through the alcohol. Only moments ago he had been telling a complete stranger how much he loved him. How every stupid little thing about Oscar had become impossible to forget. How angry he had only been because he cared too much.
And then...
He had kissed someone else.
"Oh God..."
His gaze dropped to his own trembling hands as though they belonged to another person.
"I kissed someone."
His breathing became uneven.
"I cheated."
The confession barely rose above a whisper.
"I cheated on him."
"You didn't—"
"I did."
Lando shook his head before the stranger could finish.
"I promised him."
The words scraped painfully against his throat.
"I love him. I love him so much, and I..."
His voice broke.
The stranger stepped toward him again.
"Lando, listen to me."
But the music had become unbearably loud. The lights bled into one another until every face in the club dissolved into blurred shapes. He looked desperately at the stranger again, trying to force his eyes to focus.
For the briefest moment, the unfamiliar features shifted.
Not a stranger.
Oscar.
Standing there with the same worried eyes that had always searched for him first.
Lando blinked.
The image vanished.
"I..."
His knees gave way beneath him.
"I need..."
The sentence never found its ending.
The glass slipped from his numb fingers, but it never reached the floor.
Strong arms caught him before he could fall.
The last thing Lando felt was the familiar steadiness of someone holding him as though letting go had never been an option.
The last thing he heard was his name spoken with quiet panic.
Not like a stranger.
Like someone who had been saying it with love for a very long time.
Morning arrived without mercy.
Consciousness returned in slow, reluctant pieces.
First came the ache.
A deep, relentless throb settled behind Lando's eyes, pulsing with every heartbeat until even breathing seemed to make it worse. His mouth felt dry, his limbs unusually heavy, as though someone had replaced his bones with stone while he slept.
He groaned quietly and pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead before squeezing his eyes shut again.
Bad idea.
The room tilted even through closed eyelids.
"...Christ."
His voice sounded rough, barely more than a whisper.
For a long moment, he lay perfectly still, hoping the pounding inside his skull would ease if he refused to move.
It didn't.
Instead, another sound slowly reached him.
Water.
Not the heavy rush of a shower, but the steady stream of a sink running somewhere nearby.
Lando frowned.
His eyes opened.
Sunlight spilled through the gaps in the curtains, painting pale stripes across the hotel room. It took several slow blinks before everything settled into focus.
The ceiling. The bedside lamp.
The familiar artwork hanging opposite the bed.
His hotel room.
He stared at it blankly.
"...How did I get here?"
The question escaped before he had fully thought it.
He remembered the club.
Max.
Too many drinks.
The bar.
Fragments after that.
Nothing that resembled a complete memory.
The sound of running water continued from the bathroom.
Lando froze.
Every muscle in his body went rigid.
Someone was here.
His heart lurched painfully against his ribs.
No.
Slowly, almost afraid of what he might discover, he looked down at himself.
He wasn't wearing yesterday's clothes.
The crisp white button-up was gone.
So were the tailored trousers.
Instead, he was wearing an oversized T-shirt and a pair of boxers.
His breath caught.
"What..."
His hands immediately gripped the hem of the shirt as if checking whether it was really there. Then his gaze darted around the room.
Yesterday's clothes had been folded neatly over the chair near the window.
Folded.
Not thrown.
That should have comforted him.
It didn't.
His pulse quickened.
"No..."
The memories crashed into him in scattered flashes.
The stranger. The conversation.
Oscar.
The confession. The warmth.
The familiar cologne. The kiss.
Lando's stomach dropped.
His hand flew to his mouth.
"Oh, no..."
He stumbled out of bed so quickly the room lurched beneath him. He caught himself against the mattress before he could fall, breathing hard as panic flooded every corner of his mind.
The kiss.
He remembered the kiss.
He remembered kissing someone back.
Only for a second.
Only because...
His eyes squeezed shut.
Because he thought it was Oscar.
His chest tightened so sharply it hurt.
"No, no, no..."
The bathroom tap shut off.
Silence.
Lando's head snapped toward the closed door.
Someone was still in there.
His thoughts spiraled faster.
Did I bring him here?
Did we come back together?
Did anything else happen?
Why am I wearing different clothes?
Who changed my clothes?
His breathing became shallow.
"I wouldn't..."
The words died in his throat.
Wouldn't I?
I was drunk.
I can't remember.
His hands began trembling.
"Oh God."
He dragged both palms through his curls, pacing once before stopping again, unable to stay still for more than a second.
"What did I do?"
His heart hammered so violently he could hear it over the silence of the room.
"I can't believe..."
Oscar.
The name alone made guilt twist painfully inside his chest.
His stomach turned.
How could he do this to him?
How could he spend an entire night telling a stranger how deeply he loved Oscar... only to kiss someone else moments later?
"I promised him."
His voice cracked.
"I promised..."
He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes as though he could force the memory away.
"I love him."
The words came out broken.
"So how could I..."
His breathing hitched.
"How could I do that to him?"
His eyes burned.
He couldn't remember how he'd gotten back.
Couldn't remember who had undressed him.
Couldn't remember whether the kiss had ended at the kiss.
That uncertainty terrified him more than anything else.
His mind kept trying to fill the empty spaces, inventing memories where none existed, and every possibility felt worse than the last.
"No..."
He shook his head violently.
"Please..."
Whether he was pleading with himself, with God, or with the missing pieces of the night, he didn't know.
He only knew he loved Oscar more than anything.
And if he'd betrayed him...
He wasn't sure he could ever forgive himself.
But then another thought crept in, one that made his stomach twist all over again.
He had told the stranger about Oscar. He had told him they were together.
What if it had been a fan?
What if someone else knew now?
The fear barely had time to settle before the bathroom door handle shifted.
Lando's head jerked toward it.
Every muscle in his body tensed as the door slowly began to open.
The handle turned slowly.
Then the door opened.
Steam drifted lazily into the room before the person behind it stepped into view.
Lando forgot how to breathe.
Oscar.
He stood there in an oversized white short-sleeve button-up that hung loosely over a pair of black shorts reaching just above his knees. His hair was still damp, darkened slightly by water, a towel resting carelessly over one shoulder as though the morning had begun like any other.
For one impossible second, Lando could only stare.
He had prepared himself to see a stranger. To wake beside someone whose name he didn't know. He had thought that would be the worst thing imaginable.
He had been wrong.
Because it wasn't a stranger.
It was Oscar.
And somehow...
Somehow that hurt even more.
Every part of him had spent the last week aching for this. For the sight of him. For his voice. For the quiet comfort of simply existing in the same room again.
He had imagined a hundred different reunions during sleepless nights. Some ended with arguments. Others with apologies. Most ended with Oscar pulling him into his arms until all the distance between them disappeared.
Never this.
Never with guilt already lodged so deeply inside his chest that it hurt to breathe.
His throat tightened painfully.
He had missed him.
God, he had missed him.
Missed waking up beside him. Missed hearing his sleepy voice first thing in the morning. Missed the ridiculous way his hair refused to stay flat after a shower. Missed the tiny habits nobody else would ever notice because nobody else had loved Oscar closely enough to learn them.
And now...
Now the first thing he could think when he looked at him was—
I betrayed you.
The words echoed through him with brutal clarity.
His stomach twisted.
His chest felt hollow.
He couldn't even bring himself to meet Oscar's eyes for more than a second.
How was he supposed to explain last night?
How was he supposed to admit that he'd spent hours telling a stranger how desperately he loved Oscar... only to kiss him because, for one alcohol-soaked heartbeat, he'd believed that stranger was him?
Would Oscar believe that?
Would anyone?
Lando wasn't sure he believed himself.
His breathing grew uneven again.
"I'm..."
The word broke apart before it could become a sentence.
He looked at Oscar properly for the first time.
Really looked at him.
The familiar face he'd been missing for weeks. The eyes he'd dreamed about almost every night. The person he'd wanted nothing more than to hold again.
A fresh ache spread through his chest.
He wanted to run to him.
He wanted to bury his face against his shoulder and apologize until there were no words left.
Instead, all he could do was stand there, frozen by guilt.
Because he didn't feel like someone who deserved to touch him anymore.
Oscar didn't move immediately.
For a moment, he simply looked at him.
And somehow, that was worse.
There was no anger in his expression. No accusation. No disappointment. Only that same quiet softness Lando had spent the entire night missing, the kind that made him feel seen even when he wanted to hide.
Oscar crossed the room slowly, carefully, as though approaching something fragile. As though Lando might break if he moved too quickly.
Then he reached out and gently pulled him closer.
Not tightly. Not like he was demanding an explanation. Just enough to remind him that he was there.
That he was real.
Lando went completely still.
The warmth of Oscar's hand against him felt painfully familiar. Too familiar. Like returning to a place he had spent days convincing himself he didn't need.
Oscar looked at him with the kind of concern that made Lando's chest ache.
"You alright?"
His voice was soft. Almost too soft.
"Do you need water?"
Lando couldn't answer.
Oscar's eyes moved over his face, noticing every small sign of discomfort the way he always did.
"Your head?"
A pause.
"Is it hurting?"
The question was so simple. So gentle.
And somehow, it hurt more than anger would have.
Because Oscar wasn't asking like someone waiting for an apology. He wasn't looking at him like someone who had been hurt.
He was looking at him like someone he loved.
Like Lando was still the first person he wanted to take care of.
Lando's throat tightened.
He looked away.
He didn't know what to do with kindness when he felt like he didn't deserve it.
Oscar didn't push. He never did.
That was the thing that always ruined Lando's arguments against him.
Oscar had a patience that felt impossible sometimes. He could sit in silence without making it uncomfortable. He could wait without turning the waiting into punishment.
So he waited.
One hand still resting gently against Lando, giving him the space to find the words himself.
The room remained quiet.
Only the faint sounds of morning existed around them. The distant hum of the city, the soft movement of the curtains, and Lando's uneven breathing.
Minutes passed before he finally spoke.
"When did you get here?"
The question came out rough. Too rough.
His own voice made him wince.
Oscar's expression softened even further.
"I got here last night."
Lando closed his eyes briefly.
Of course.
Last night.
The same night he had lost control. The same night he had said too much and remembered too little.
His fingers curled slightly against Oscar's shirt.
"I mean..."
He swallowed.
"When?"
Oscar watched him for a moment before answering.
"I landed last night."
His voice remained quiet, patient.
"I messaged you when I got here."
A small pause.
"But..." A faint, almost helpless smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Someone was still a little mad at me."
There wasn't a trace of blame in the words.
Only gentle fondness.
"You weren't answering your phone. You weren't reading my messages either."
Lando lowered his eyes.
Guilt settled a little deeper.
"So I used my room key, dropped my bag off, and came straight to your room."
He nodded lightly toward the hotel door.
"I knocked for a while, but you weren't answering. You weren't opening the door."
His thumb brushed absentmindedly against Lando's arm.
"So I asked Andrea for a spare key."
A small pause.
"But you weren't here."
"I figured you were probably with Max. I knew he was in town too."
Another pause.
"So I messaged him."
"He told me you guys were at the club."
The room fell quiet again.
Lando couldn't bring himself to look at him.
Every sentence Oscar spoke was another reminder that, while Lando had spent the night trying to drown the distance between them in whiskey, Oscar had spent it looking for him.
Silence stretched between them once more.
Lando lifted a trembling hand to his forehead, pressing his fingers against his temple as another sharp throb pulsed through his skull. He grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment.
The movement didn't go unnoticed.
Oscar's expression softened even further. "Hey." His voice was barely above a whisper. "The headache's getting worse, isn't it?"
Lando gave the smallest nod.
Oscar didn't hesitate. He leaned forward just enough to press a gentle kiss against Lando's forehead, lingering for a moment before he leaned in again and brushed a soft kiss against his lips. Both were brief. Tender. A quiet reassurance that asked for nothing in return.
"Come on," he murmured. "Back to bed."
Lando looked at him for a long second. He couldn't understand how Oscar could still look at him like that. How he could still touch him so carefully after everything Lando believed he'd done.
Oscar rested a hand against the small of his back and gently guided him toward the bed without rushing him. "Sit down."
Lando obeyed almost automatically. The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he sat back against the headboard, pulling the duvet loosely over himself. Oscar disappeared for only a moment before returning with a bottle of water and a packet of painkillers.
"I found these in your bag," Oscar said quietly, shaking two tablets into his palm before holding them out. "Take them."
Lando stared at the tablets before looking back at Oscar. His chest tightened painfully.
"You always remember."
Oscar frowned. "Remember what?"
"My headaches."
A faint smile crossed Oscar's face. "Of course I do."
Those three words nearly broke him.
Lando swallowed hard and took the medicine with unsteady fingers, washing it down with a mouthful of water. Oscar took the bottle from him and set it on the bedside table before sitting down on the edge of the bed.
The room fell quiet again.
Lando kept staring at his hands. His vision blurred. He blinked once. Then again. It didn't help.
Oscar noticed immediately.
"Lando?"
No answer.
"Lando."
This time Oscar reached for his hand. The warmth of his fingers settled gently over Lando's, and that simple touch was enough. His shoulders trembled.
He looked away so quickly it almost hurt.
"Hey..." Oscar's voice was impossibly gentle. "Look at me."
Lando couldn't.
If he looked at him, he was afraid he would fall apart.
Oscar waited, just as he always did.
Then, without warning, Lando moved. He closed the small distance between them in one desperate motion, burying his face against Oscar's shoulder as though it were the only place left in the world where he knew how to breathe. His hands clutched at the back of Oscar's shirt, fingers twisting helplessly into the fabric. It wasn't graceful or planned. It was instinct, the kind that came long before pride.
Oscar wrapped his arms around him immediately, one hand settling between his shoulder blades while the other cradled the back of his head. He didn't ask questions. He simply held him, tightening his embrace just enough for Lando to know he wasn't going anywhere.
Lando's breathing broke into uneven, shuddering breaths. His grip tightened even more, clinging to Oscar as though letting go would mean losing him all over again.
"I'm sorry."
The words escaped before Lando could stop them, muffled against Oscar's shoulder.
Oscar's brows drew together. Gently, he tried to lean back just enough to see his face.
"For what?"
Lando shook his head almost frantically, his grip only tightening.
"No..."
He wouldn't let Oscar pull away. Instead, he hid deeper against him, holding on with the quiet desperation of someone convinced this might be the last time they were ever allowed to. His shoulders shook, and before he could stop them, tears slipped free, soaking silently into the soft cotton of Oscar's shirt.
Oscar didn't force him to look up.
He simply held him closer.
Lando let out a broken, humourless laugh, his fingers tightening in Oscar's shirt until his knuckles turned white.
"I don't know what happened," he whispered. "I remember the club. I remember drinking. And then..." His voice caught in his throat. "I remember kissing someone."
The room became painfully still.
Still wrapped in Oscar's arms, Lando finally pulled back just enough to look at him. His eyes were red now, bright with tears he stubbornly refused to let fall.
"I thought it was you." His breathing hitched. "I swear I thought it was you. He smelled like you. He..." He squeezed his eyes shut, his face twisting with the memory. "For one second... I thought it was you."
He dragged a trembling hand across his face while his other hand remained curled into Oscar's shirt, as though he was afraid letting go would make everything disappear. "And when I realised it wasn't..." His voice cracked. "I thought I'd cheated on you."
His voice dropped until it was barely audible.
"I don't even know how I got back here. I don't know if anything else happened." He shook his head weakly, almost helplessly. "That's what's terrifying me."
He looked at Oscar with complete devastation, his expression breaking under the weight of everything he had been carrying.
He swallowed painfully, his grip tightening against Oscar's shirt.
"I'm sorry."
His voice cracked.
"I'm really sorry, Oscar."
There was silence.
Not the uncomfortable kind. Not the kind that meant anger. Not the kind that came before someone finally said the words you had been dreading.
Just silence.
Lando stayed frozen against him, his face still close to Oscar's shoulder, waiting for the moment everything would fall apart. He had said it. He had finally said the thing that had been tearing through his chest since waking up.
The confession. The fear. The guilt.
And now Oscar wasn't saying anything.
A moment passed.
Then another.
Oscar didn't move.
And somehow, that was worse.
Lando's fingers tightened slightly against his shirt, holding onto the fabric like it was the only thing keeping him steady. He couldn't make himself look away. He couldn't make himself look up either, because if he saw disappointment in Oscar's eyes, he didn't know if he could handle it.
He had prepared himself for anger. For hurt. For Oscar looking at him differently. For anything except this quiet.
Then, barely noticeable, the corner of Oscar's mouth twitched.
Just for a second.
Lando noticed, and his expression faltered.
Because somehow, somehow, Oscar looked like he was trying not to smile.
And that made absolutely no sense.
Not now.
Not after what Lando had just confessed.
A small panic twisted inside him.
Was Oscar laughing because he couldn't believe him? Was he trying to hide how hurt he was? Was this the moment when Oscar finally realised how badly Lando had messed up?
"Lando..."
Oscar's voice came out quieter than Lando expected.
Oscar immediately looked at him, and the softness in his eyes only made Lando's chest ache more. There was no anger there. No resentment. Only something that looked dangerously close to affection.
"You really don't remember who you kissed?"
The question wasn't accusing. It wasn't sharp.
It was almost gentle.
Lando blinked, his brows pulling together.
For a second, he didn't understand why Oscar was asking that. Why he sounded like he already knew something Lando didn't.
His stomach dropped.
"What?"
Oscar's thumb moved slowly over the back of his hand, the small motion almost absent-minded, like he was trying to reassure him before saying anything else.
"You really don't remember?"
Lando stared at him, confused and terrified at the same time. Why was he asking like that? Why did he look almost relieved? Why wasn't he angry?
"Remember what?"
His voice was barely above a whisper.
A small breath left Oscar, something between a sigh and a quiet laugh.
Not cruel. Not mocking. Just disbelief.
Like he still couldn't believe Lando had spent the entire morning carrying this fear.
"Lando..."
Oscar's expression softened.
"You really don't remember?"
The words made Lando's heart sink because suddenly, he was certain there was something he was missing. Something important. Something Oscar knew.
"What are you talking about?"
Oscar looked at him for a long moment.
Then his hand tightened gently around Lando's.
"You didn't kiss some stranger."
Lando stared at him.
For a moment, he simply couldn't process the words.
His mind seemed to stop somewhere between confusion and disbelief, unable to catch up with what Oscar had just said.
"What?"
The word came out quietly, almost like he wasn't sure he had heard him correctly.
Oscar's expression softened, but this time the small smile he had been trying to hide finally broke through. A quiet laugh escaped him, not because Lando's fear was funny, but because he couldn't believe how long Lando had been carrying something that had never happened.
"It was me," Oscar said gently. "I was the one you kissed. I was the one who brought you back here, and I was the one who changed your clothes."
Lando only stared at him.
The room felt strangely still.
"What?"
Again.
This time with even more confusion.
Oscar shook his head slightly, the corner of his mouth still lifted.
"Lando..."
He brushed his thumb over the back of Lando's hand, grounding him before continuing.
"I told you I asked Max where you guys were. He told me you were at the club, so I asked him for the location."
A small pause.
"So I came there."
Lando blinked.
"You came... there?"
His voice sounded distant, like he was trying to piece together a memory that refused to return.
Oscar nodded.
"Yeah."
He watched every emotion pass across Lando's face before speaking again.
"I found you there."
The words settled slowly between them.
"I was the one you kissed, Lando."
For a second, Lando just looked at him.
Then his entire expression changed.
The panic that had been sitting inside him since waking up began to crack, replaced by something else entirely.
Relief.
But it wasn't simple relief.
It was the kind that hurt.
The kind that made his chest ache because he realised how much he had been punishing himself over something that had never been true.
His fingers loosened slightly against Oscar's shirt.
"You're saying..."
He swallowed.
"It was you?"
Oscar nodded, his smile softening into something impossibly gentle.
"It was me."
Lando looked away for a moment, trying to understand how his mind had twisted everything so badly. The stranger's scent. The familiar warmth. The memory of the kiss. The fear that had consumed him.
It had all been Oscar.
Oscar had been there.
"You didn't cheat, Lando."
Oscar's thumb brushed gently across the back of Lando's hand.
"You kissed me."
A sheepish smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Well..." he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck almost bashfully. "Technically... I kissed you."
The words broke something inside Lando.
Not painfully this time.
Just enough for him to finally breathe again.
Lando simply stared at him.
His mind struggled to catch up, replaying the last few minutes over and over until they finally settled into something that resembled understanding.
It had been Oscar.
The stranger. The kiss. Everything.
The crushing weight that had been pressing against his chest since waking up loosened all at once, leaving behind something almost dizzying.
Then his eyes narrowed.
Without warning, he lifted a fist and smacked Oscar lightly against the chest.
"Osc, you muppet."
Another soft thump followed before Oscar could even react.
"You could've told me that before."
A third landed against his chest, no stronger than the last.
"Do you have any idea what I've been thinking since I woke up?" His voice wavered despite the indignation. "Do you know how terrified I was? I thought I'd ruined everything. I thought I'd cheated on you."
His fist landed one last time, barely carrying any force at all.
"I was so scared."
His shoulders slumped, exhaustion replacing what little anger he'd managed to summon.
"...I hate you."
Oscar caught his wrist before another half-hearted punch could land. Not to stop him. Just to hold it.
His fingers settled gently around Lando's wrist as he leaned closer, closing the already narrow distance between them until their foreheads were almost touching. His thumb absent-mindedly brushed over Lando's skin before he spoke, his voice dropping to a whisper that was soft enough to belong only to the two of them.
"Yeah." The corner of his mouth twitched. "I know you hate me."
Lando frowned.
Oscar's smile grew just enough to give him away.
"You told me that last night."
Lando froze.
The words reached him before the memory did.
The club.
The music.
The whiskey burning down his throat.
The stranger standing beside him while the world blurred around the edges.
"I hate him."
Then—
"I love him."
His own voice. His own confession.
Every word he'd poured out to someone he had believed was a complete stranger.
His eyes widened.
"Oh..."
Heat flooded his face all at once.
"...Oh, no."
The memories returned in scattered flashes, each one sharper than the last.
He had told Oscar everything. How angry he'd been. How much he'd missed him. How every stupid little thing reminded him of him. How he loved him so much it hurt.
A groan escaped him before he could stop it, and he immediately buried his face back into Oscar's shoulder.
"No."
His voice came out hopelessly muffled against the soft cotton of Oscar's shirt.
"No... absolutely not."
A quiet laugh rumbled beneath his cheek as Oscar's hand settled between his shoulder blades, rubbing slow, reassuring circles.
"I don't think you get to take it back."
Lando groaned louder.
"I wasn't talking to you."
Oscar raised an eyebrow.
"You were."
"I thought you were someone else."
"You still said it."
Lando made a sound somewhere between a groan and a whine, hiding his face even deeper.
"I am never drinking again."
"I'll believe that when I see it," Oscar murmured, laughter still lingering in his voice.
Before Lando could protest, Oscar shifted.
One arm slipped carefully behind his back while the other stayed around his waist, guiding him backward onto the mattress. Lando gave a small, startled sound as his back met the pillows, instinctively reaching for Oscar before he could think.
"Whoa—"
"It's okay."
Oscar's voice was as gentle as ever.
"You need to lie down."
Lando looked up at him, still dazed, his curls a complete mess from everything that had happened that morning.
Instead of moving away, Oscar pulled the duvet back just enough to settle over him properly. He climbed onto the bed carefully, shifting his weight until Lando was lying comfortably beneath him. Oscar rested against him, their chests brushing lightly, his arms slipping loosely around Lando's waist, holding him without trapping him.
Once they had both found a comfortable position, Lando reached for the duvet and pulled it back over them.
Slowly, he melted into the embrace.
His arms rose to loop around Oscar's neck, and one hand disappeared into the soft curls at the nape of his neck. His fingers scratched gently through the strands on instinct, the familiar gesture as natural as breathing after so many mornings spent tangled together.
Oscar's eyes fluttered closed for the briefest moment.
A quiet breath escaped him before a small, contented smile softened his face.
For the first time in weeks, there was no distance.
"I missed that," Oscar admitted softly.
Lando's hand stilled.
The room fell quiet again.
Oscar opened his eyes and looked at him, the smile fading into something gentler.
"I'm sorry."
Lando frowned slightly.
"What?"
"I'm sorry." Oscar held his gaze this time. "For the distance."
His thumb stroked slowly along Lando's side beneath the duvet.
"For everything you told me last night."
Lando felt his chest tighten.
Oscar lowered his eyes for a moment before continuing.
"I didn't want that either."
His fingers tightened ever so slightly around him.
"I missed you too, Lan."
The nickname was so quiet it almost disappeared between them.
"I missed hearing about your day. I missed falling asleep next to you. I missed all the little things that somehow become the biggest things when they're gone."
He smiled sadly.
"But every time I picked up my phone, I was either walking into a meeting, getting pulled into something with the team, or boarding another flight. I kept telling myself we'd have a proper conversation tomorrow."
His smile faltered.
"Then tomorrow became another tomorrow."
Lando listened without interrupting.
"I never wanted you to think I was choosing work over you." Oscar's voice cracked slightly. "I never wanted you to feel alone in this."
A silence settled between them, softer this time.
"I missed you just as much."
Lando's fingers resumed their gentle movements through Oscar's hair.
"I thought..."
"I know."
Oscar rested his forehead lightly against Lando's.
"I know what you thought."
Another quiet moment passed before Oscar smiled faintly.
"And for the record..."
He brushed a curl away from Lando's forehead.
"I definitely missed you too."
Lando looked at him quietly, the guilt still lingering somewhere behind his eyes.
Oscar noticed.
Of course he noticed.
He always did.
"And also..." Oscar's voice softened. "I'm sorry that I let you believe, even for a moment, that you had hurt me like that."
His hand tightened gently around Lando's.
"I'm sorry for making you cry."
A pause.
"I'm sorry for making you scared."
Lando's expression shifted.
Because somehow, that hurt more than anger would have.
Oscar wasn't blaming him.
He was apologising for the pain he had carried.
And that was the most Oscar thing he could have done.
Lando stayed quiet for a while.
His fingers continued moving slowly through Oscar's hair, tracing the familiar curls like he needed the reminder that this was real. That Oscar was here. That they were here.
The fear that had been sitting so heavily inside him all morning was finally starting to loosen, replaced by something softer. Something warmer.
He swallowed.
"I missed you too."
The words were quiet. Simple. But they carried everything he hadn't been able to say.
Oscar looked at him.
Lando gave a small, tired smile. "I know I made it sound like you were the only one who disappeared."
His fingers paused briefly.
"But I was angry because I missed you. Not because I stopped loving you."
Oscar's expression softened.
"I just..." Lando looked down for a moment. "I didn't know how to tell you that I was feeling lonely without making it sound like I was blaming you."
A small breath left him. "And then I got scared that maybe I was asking for too much."
Oscar's hand moved gently along his back.
"Lando..."
"I know."
Lando looked back at him. "I know you weren't trying to hurt me." A faint smile touched his lips. "You never are."
The words settled between them.
Oscar looked at him for a long moment before pulling him slightly closer.
"I'm sorry too," Lando whispered.
Oscar frowned softly. "You don't have to—"
"I do."
Lando's voice was gentle this time.
"Not for last night." A small embarrassed expression crossed his face. "Definitely not explaining that again."
Oscar let out a quiet laugh.
"But for not telling you sooner that I missed you."
His forehead rested against Oscar's.
"For letting the distance get bigger instead of just coming to you."
Oscar's thumb brushed gently over his cheek.
"You came now."
Lando smiled faintly.
"Yeah."
A quiet moment passed before Lando tightened his arms around him, pulling him closer.
"Can we just... not be stupid for a while?"
Oscar raised an eyebrow.
"That's a big request."
Lando gave him a tired glare.
"Shut up."
Oscar smiled.
There it was.
That familiar ease.
The thing they had both been missing.
"Okay," Oscar whispered. "For a while."
Lando closed his eyes, letting himself finally relax against him.
For the first time in weeks, he wasn't thinking about what had been lost or what could go wrong. He was just there.
With Oscar.
And for now, that was enough.