Chapter Text
“So you really don’t want to come?” Lando asked Oscar for the third time.
Oscar smiled. “No, I really need some downtime, but you go and have fun, alright?”
“Alright.” Lando stood up on his tippy toes and pressed a gentle kiss agains Oscar’s lips.
Oscar’s hands automatically went to his hips, pulling his boyfriend closer to him, deepening the kiss.
When they pulled apart to catch their breath, Lando rested his forehead against Oscar’s and said, “You know, I can really be a little late if you wanna continue this conversation in the bedroom.” He grinned and Oscar huffed a laugh at the suggestion.
He, of course, would absolutely love it, but he also knew that Lando was really excited to go out tonight and he didn’t want to hold him back just because he’d rather spend his evening in, cuddled up on the couch and watching tv.
Lando was a party person. He loved clubs and music and dancing and Oscar just wanted him to be happy.
But the last few races really wore him down and he just needed to recharge before the next race weekend. “As tempting as that sounds, you already promised to go, so go and enjoy yourself. We can continue this conversation tomorrow.”
“So mature.” Lando grumbled, but he let go and grabbed his jacket. “Okay then, I’ll see you later?”
“Yeah. I love you.”
“I love you too. ‘Kay, byeee.” He sang and closed the door behind him.
Oscar stared at it for a moment, smiling, before he turned around and headed for the kitchen. He poured himself a cup of tea, because Lando taught him to drink it, and sat down on the couch.
He didn’t turn on the tv or any music, didn’t bring a book, he just stared ahead and let his thoughts wander, so his mind could eventually quiet. He drank the tea and enjoyed the silence for a long while, not in the mood to do anything. It was nice. And helpful. He felt himself relax and calm down, the noise in his mind going away.
When he came out of the “trance”, he glanced at the clock to find out it was just past 9 pm. He normally would stay up longer if Lando were with him, so they could spend as much time together as possible, but since Lando was out, he decided to turn in early. If he managed to fall asleep before 10 pm, he’d have two hours of sleep before midnight and they had a day off tomorrow, so he could sleep as long as he was able.
So he took a shower, brushed his teeth and got in bed. It was weirdly empty without his boyfriend next to him. Lando usually immediately pressed up against him, hugging his waist and nuzzling his face into his chest.
He loved that. Loved that Lando wanted to be as close as possible to him even when asleep.
So lying there now, with no warm, beautiful, sleepy Lan snuggling up with him, he felt a little cold.
It’s not like they slept together every night. Sometimes they weren’t rooming together and sometimes one or the other was away for whatever reason so they had to make do with FaceTime and texting. But when they had the opportunity, they spent every minute together.
Whatever. It was just one night. And they had the free day tomorrow so they would have many hours in each other’s company.
The thought made Oscar smile. He wondered what was Lando doing right now.
Was he leaning against the bar, enjoying his drink or was he dancing in the swarm of people, letting everything else go, feeling just the music?
Heat pooled low in Oscar’s belly when he imagined his gorgeous boyfriend, swaying his hips to the rhythm, not caring if anyone was watching.
Now this thought made his stomach churn.
His mind filled with the picture of all the men and women lusting after Lando, watching him, maybe even trying to flirt with him.
Rationally, he knew it wouldn’t matter. Lando loved him and Oscar would never doubt his loyalty.
But still, some primal part of him wanted to keep Lan all to himself, even in the 21st century, knowing it sounded possessive and maybe toxic as hell.
He just couldn’t help it. Lando made him jealous and possessive and absolutely feral at the thought of anyone else having him.
Jesus.
He seriously got angry right now.
He scoffed at himself. This was ridiculous, he should just go to sleep.
Still he couldn’t stop himself from picking his phone up. He wanted to send Lando a good night text, but he noticed an Instagram notification saying Lando posted a story. He clicked on it.
The story had maaaany pictures and videos in it.
First was a photo of a blue drink on a bar top, the surface shining with the overhead lights.
The next was a short video of the crowd dancing and singing to the music, people laughing and shouting at each other.
Then followed a few pictures of Lando with Carlos, Max and Charles, the combinations varying. They were drinking, laughing, dancing, the usual.
Oscar smiled when he saw how happy Lando looked, even though it also made him miss his boyfriend.
He swiped to the one-before-last video.
There was Lando with Carlos on the dance floor. They were both grinning and moving together and Oscar’s heart might’ve actually melted at the sight of Lan, because he looked sooo fucking stunning and sexy like this. It was amazing how you could tell when he was feeling good and confident by how radiant he was.
But then his gaze dropped down and he noticed that Carlos had his arm around Lando’s waist. And it wasn’t the fact that he was holding him. He sometimes held his friends by the waist too, it was just in the moment, you threw your arm around them and it didn’t matter if it was around their waist or their shoulders (though thinking about it, he usually only held Lando by the waist, grabbing his friends by the shoulders).
It was the way Carlos was holding him, like he belonged to him, like he was staking a claim, that made his blood boil. It was the fact that this was the way he would wrap his arm around Lan’s waist, to pull him closer, to let others know that he was his.
It’s fine, he told himself. It’s just a coincidence. And even if Carlos did do it on purpose, Lando would never cheat on him.
It actually made him mad at himself that the thought even crossed his mind.
But he couldn’t help it. He suddenly felt all of his long-buried insecurities come up.
Fuck, he thought he was past this. In a moment of slight panic at his own feelings, he clicked on the last post. It was a picture of all four of them together, arms wrapped around each other and smiling at whoever took the picture. The caption read:
“Best night in a while with these guys”
His breath caught, his heart suddenly racing, blood roaring in his ears.
Best night in a while. Best night… in a while… best… in a while…
The words just wouldn’t stop echoing in his head.
Because if anyone asked him which night was his favourite, which one was “the best”, he would have said that it was any night he’d spent with Lando in one of their apartments or in a hotel room, out on a date or intimately in bed. It actually didn’t matter where it was, what mattered was that Lando was with him. It probably sounded pathetic, but Lan was his favourite person in the entire world. It made sense that his favourite moments were with him.
It just never occurred to him that Lando might not feel the same.
But of course it should have. His boyfriend loved going out, loved spending time with people and it wasn’t crucial to him that Oscar was included.
The thought maybe shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did… but it did.
It hurt so bad to think Lando didn’t need him the way Oscar needed him.
It hurt like a motherfucking cunt to think that while he always just wanted Lando wherever he was, Lando was completely fine without him, having the best night in a while.
He suddenly felt his cheeks get wet and he gasped.
Did he actually start crying?
What the fuck?
He angrily wiped the tears away. It wasn’t that deep. He should be happy that Lando was having so much fun. He should be fucking happy.
This was such a selfish prick behaviour, thinking only about himself and looking at things through his insecurities.
But sometimes our long-forgotten wounds would open up at the slightest of triggers and right now, Oscar’s heart was bleeding.
His chest was tight and the tears kept going.
He growled in frustration, feeling like ripping his hair out or pressing his nails into his palms so hard it drew blood or scartching at his arms until it hurt too much.
There was this ugly energy that needed to get out of his body.
He felt disgusted with himself, he felt sad and angry and hurt.
He couldn’t catch his breath.
Oh God, what was wrong with him? It was just a stupid fucking Instagram story!!!
He should just calm down. And looking at it like this, of course Lando was having the best time when he wasn’t around. Who’d even want to spend time with an insecure, selfish, possessive, boring arsehole, who wanted to just stay at home in his 20’s like an old grandpa and couldn’t even be happy for his boyfriend who was finally enjoying himself after having many rough weeks (and especially weekends for obvious reasons).
He kicked his duvet away and got up, his head spinning. He stumbled to the bathroom and gripped the sink so hard his fingers ached, but he ignored it. In fact, a little part of himself enjoyed it.
He deserved the pain.
“Fuck.” He cursed under his breath. He splashed cool water on his face, hoping it would help.
It didn’t the first time, but he repeated it and then started a breathing exercise, one he remembered from when Lando was having panic attacks. This was the exercise he often used to calm himself down.
He took a deep breath in, counting to four, then held it for four seconds, then released it for four and held it again, for four.
He remembered it was called box breathing, and so he repeated the process and imagined a square being drawn, each side for four seconds.
Until his mind calmed. Until his breathing evened out. Until the tears stopped flowing. Until the fog cleared and he was able to blink and remember where he was and realise he was still gripping the sink and that his hands were hurting and he was able to let go, to relax one finger at a time.
He stood up straight, staring at his own reflection in the mirror.
He was pale, his skin sticky with sweat, his hair slightly damp and his lips dry. He stuck out his tongue to wet them and realised his mouth and throat were also really dry.
He took a few sips of water, hoping to get rid of this ill-like feeling. His eyelids felt heavy and a headache was forming behind his eyes.
He needed to get to bed and get some sleep.
He went back to the bedroom, but just the sight of the empty bed made his stomach turn. He couldn’t sleep here. It was too… painful.
He wandered to the living room and decided to stay on the couch.
Better than the floor.
Oscar wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and lied down.
His mind was oddly… quiet. But not the good kind. The kind that simply felt hollow, not peaceful.
He didn’t feel like a good person. He felt this strange hatred towards himself that didn’t show often, but sometimes it reared its head and made him feel ugly and horrible.
It said that he was a bad boyfriend, that he didn’t deserve love, that he didn’t deserve Lando.
The thought was like a punch to the gut that made him curl up into the smallest ball and close his eyes before the tears had a chance to fall.
He hoped that if he fell asleep, all of this would disappear. He’d wake up to Lando smiling at him lovingly, saying his favourite moments were the ones they spent together and today wasn’t his best night, because they weren’t together and he missed Oscar the whole time.
But he knew that wasn’t the case. Because Lando didn’t feel that way about him. He didn’t need him that way. He wasn’t that desperate for his attention. He wasn’t a burden to anyone.
Unlike Oscar.
He wished Lando needed and wanted him as much as he needed and wanted Lando.
And rationally, if he wasn’t spiralling into the darkest pit of self-doubt and insecurity, he’d realise that Lando wanted to be with Oscar, that he loved him just as much, that he also needed him.
But he was spiralling. And it just didn’t feel like it.
Not tonight.