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Lando is having a pretty good day. They had just finished Friday practice, which had gone well, the car working decently and feeling comfortable under Lando’s control, and he’s been in a good mood throughout the morning, even during his slightly annoying media duties.
He finds himself happily chatting up a few people here and there when he’s not focusing on his driving and getting used to the feel of the track, and even when FP2 is done, he finds he still has energy to stir up conversations with people.
Recently he’s finished this new show, and it has honestly brought a lot of spark and enjoyment to his life. It’s something he loves to talk about, to think about, to watch. It gives him a lot of dopamine, and he finds himself frequently scrolling through media regarding the show, looking for things related to it when he goes out, and repeating lines from the show to himself randomly. His brain is always buzzing with ideas, and he always feels this unexplainable joy coursing through him when the topic of the show happens to come up.
Today especially, his brain feels like it’s running a mile a minute, flooding him with thoughts of his show when he’s not focused on driving, ones that make him smile to himself, and he finds he really wants someone to talk to about it. It’s like he has all this energy built up inside him, and he needs to talk to get it out. Talk about all the things in his head, all the little things, the big things, anything related to the show, just to relieve himself of the built-up energy.
Of course, his go-to is his boyfriend Oscar. Oscar loves to listen to Lando talk about anything he’s thinking about at any given moment, letting Lando fill their space with his voice. He never lets Lando feel like he’s uninteresting or annoying, and he always invites Lando to share his thoughts with him, a genuine smile on his face. It makes Lando feel very loved, and sometimes makes him cry at how encouraging and attentive Oscar is all the time.
Because deep down, Lando often feels a little self-conscious about how he talks, especially if it’s about something that he’s interested in, something that is plaguing his brain for days on end. He knows he can be a lot sometimes, too loud and obnoxious and easily overexcited at little, often insignificant things. And he knows he can be hard to be around when he can't contain his excitement, and how easily he throws people off with how emotional and chaotic he can be.
It’s not something that he particularly enjoys about himself, despite other people thinking so. He actually struggles a lot, wondering if he’s talked too much after a conversation, worrying if he embarrassed anyone by being too loud, panicking if he made someone uncomfortable by accidentally interrupting them when he couldn't control the urge to blurt out a thought.
But his boyfriend never lets him feel that way. Oscar is always there, reassuring Lando that he loves to see him get excited about things because it means he’s happy, and Oscar loves seeing Lando happy. He never scolds Lando when he interrupts him with a thought of his own, he listens intently to the things Lando talks about, and on days where Lando feels insecure, he holds his hand, kisses his face and tells him, “You’re wonderful, I love you. Never change, okay?”
Oscar is also always there when things aren’t all happy and exciting. On days where Lando’s brain feels like it’s stuck, unable to do anything, where too many things are happening and he feels overwhelmed, where he’s having trouble keeping track of things and processing, where he feels extra sensitive. Oscar is there through all of it, running a soft hand through Lando’s curls as he reassures him that it’s okay, helping him in any way he can think of, encouraging him that he can get through the difficulties he’s facing.
It feels like Oscar just understands that his brain works differently, and it doesn’t change anything. Oscar just accepts him as he is, loves him regardless of all his flaws and needs and odd ways of doing things. It makes Lando feel cherished, understood in a way no one else has ever bothered with him, and it makes his love for Oscar flourish, bright and happy.
Unfortunately, as much as Lando wants to see his boyfriend and talk to him, today Oscar is super busy, being held up with media duties and team meetings. So Lando has to look elsewhere for companionship. But that's fine, Lando has other friends, and he can find someone to talk to.
He runs into a few more people, only able to talk for a few seconds, which Lando tries not to take to heart, before he stumbles upon Charles, who doesn’t seem very busy. He waves, and Charles nods back politely, and Lando decides that maybe Charles will be happy to listen to him yap for a little bit.
He’s just–he needs to talk about everything on his mind, it feels like it's building up, and he can’t control the urge to just start saying everything he’s thought of throughout the day. So he settles beside Charles and attempts a bit of small talk, just to be courteous, which Charles seems fine with, before he finds a way to bring up his show.
It feels a little freeing, being able to get out everything he’s been holding in. Talking to himself is one thing, but talking to someone else about it, having someone there to listen, feels nice. It feels good, and Lando finds he’s smiling brightly, gesturing wildly and emotions running, as he explains the show to Charles, the plot, his favourite characters, the ideas he’s been dwelling on all day.
It does feel a little like he’s baring his soul to Charles, though. And maybe that's why it hurts so much when Charles says what he says.
“Lando,” he interrupts Lando’s rant, and when Lando stops talking, it hits him that Charles’ face is pulled into a tight frown, and he’s pinching the bridge of his nose like he’s annoyed.
Lando feels his heart drop, and he’s suddenly all too aware of Charles now, how he’s responding to this conversation. He’d been too engrossed in the conversation before, and he regrets getting too caught up in his excitement when Charles looks like he isn't enjoying himself.
“Can you–I’ve got a headache, and you’re being really loud and kind of annoying, and I… can we maybe not talk about this anymore?” Charles asks, voice strained, and Lando feels like the rug has been pulled from underneath him. He’s frozen for a moment, unable to process anything but the loud buzzing in his ears. There’s a lump growing in his throat and tears stinging the back of his eyes, and he feels like he needs to get away.
He vaguely registers Charles speaking to him, looking a little concerned, but he can’t make out the words over the pounding of his heart and the thoughts swirling around in his head. It doesn’t matter anyway–Charles was just being honest, and Lando can’t even blame him for being annoyed.
Lando hadn’t even considered how Charles might be feeling, selfishly jumping into conversation with him just because he was free, and Charles had taken as much as he could before it got to be too much. Before Lando had gotten to be too much.
“Sorry, Charles,” he forces out, feeling a little like he's going to be sick, before he’s hurrying away, hoping Charles doesn't follow. There’s an ugly feeling curling tight and uncomfortable in his chest, and he briefly thinks that he really wants to see Oscar, to bury himself in his arms and cry, but he thinks better of it, knowing Oscar is very busy and probably stressed and doesn’t need an overly whiny, sensitive boyfriend bothering him.
Lando is unable to stop his thoughts from spiralling, and he trails off into wondering whether he bothers Oscar every time he gets upset, needing reassurance and care. Has Lando ever given Oscar space to feel his own emotions? Is Lando a burden to Oscar, and he is just too nice to say anything? The thought makes his stomach twist with guilt, and he has to pause and lean against the wall to steady himself.
He doesn’t really know where he’s ended up, having not paid attention to where he was going as he pushed his way through the paddock, trying to avoid people and escape the gnawing feeling inside him. But it looks private enough, and he can feel himself starting to spiral, fast.
His breath is coming in short pants, and he knows he’s on the verge of a breakdown, his emotions feeling like they’re bubbling up and threatening to spill out of him. He feels really stupid for being so sensitive, but everything feels amped up, and Charles’ words had just hit right on his worst insecurities.
Lando suddenly feels like a terrible person, and that’s the thought that gets tears spilling down his cheeks, hot against his skin and stinging his eyes. He hates himself a little bit, for how selfish he is, how he can’t seem to control himself when he’s happy and excited. How easy he gets upset when someone calls him out on his behaviour.
He wonders if Oscar regrets being with him. Lando knows how much of a handful he is, and he wonders if Oscar is sick of him at this point. He wouldn't blame him, since looking after Lando, catering to his needs and his moods, it has to be overwhelming.
Lando’s always been too much to deal with, and he’s known it all his life. He doesn’t know why he expected someone as kind and loving as Oscar to have to put up with him. Oscar deserves so much better than what he gets and Lando feels the crushing weight of guilt settle over him.
Lando slides down the wall, hand pressed to his mouth as he tries to contain his sobs. He wishes he could stop acting like such a baby, but everything hurts, his heart hurts, and the tears won't stop coming. He just wants to be held, but he hardly deserves it, and so he sits there, chest heaving, squeezing his eyes shut and rocking himself gently, hoping no one comes and sees him like this.
It’s a while before he calms down, his breaths shaky, eyes raw from tears. He feels uncomfortable where he’s sitting on the hard ground, and when he pulls himself up, he stands on shaky legs. He belatedly realizes that the team, and Oscar, are probably looking for him, and he’s going to have to head back.
He scrubs at his agitated eyes, trying to clear the evidence of his crying off his face, and takes a shuddery breath, steeling himself to face people again. He’s not really ready, feeling carved open and hollow inside, and prays he doesn’t run into Charles, not sure if he’d be able to handle seeing him again today.
He makes his way back slowly, feeling exhausted, and then suddenly there are warm hands on his cheeks, and his gaze is pulled up to meet Oscar's own worried one.
“Lando, there you are,” he breathes, eyes flickering over his face as he takes him in. He looks so relieved, like he was worrying about Lando, and it makes Lando hate himself just a little bit more that he made Oscar stress and worry.
“I was so worried. Where have you been?” His voice is laced with such gentle care that Lando feels his eyes prickling once again.
Lando can't seem to find the energy to reply, so instead, he just pulls Oscar in by his waist and hugs him tightly, burying his head into Oscar's shoulder. He lets out a shuddery breath, and he thinks if he had more tears in him, he’d be crying by now. Oscar hugs him back just as tightly, one hand on the small of his back and the other gently caressing his head.
“Are you alright?” Oscar asks into his hair, pressing a soft kiss to his head, and Lando keens inside a little at the softness of it.
He feels so loved, so encompassed in it, and it only serves to remind him just how much Oscar does for him. How much he can't give back to a man who deserves everything good in the world.
It makes him feel all horrible inside, and it twists Oscar’s touch to something prickling and uncomfortable. It feels like a warmth he doesn't deserve, and he finds himself pulling away reluctantly, unable to meet Oscar’s gaze.
“Lando?” Oscar says, voice tinged with worry, and Lando feels sick with it. He hates how he causes Oscar to worry so much, over silly things like Lando’s feelings.
It’s incredibly selfish of him, and he decides the best he can do for Oscar is pretend he’s fine, and hope it's enough that Oscar doesn't feel like he has to look after Lando so much. Doesn't have to care about him so much. It makes him ache, but he knows he has to, for Oscar’s sake.
So he offers Oscar his best smile, and grabs his hand, squeezing. It’s more for himself than for Oscar, but he can tell it calms Oscar down a little, the furrow in his brow softening.
“Sorry, I’m okay,” Lando says, and his voice comes out a little hoarse, probably from the crying. Before Oscar can comment on it, Lando takes a step back, releasing Oscar’s hand.
“I’m gonna go, I think I left something in my driver's room. I’ll see you later,” And with that, Lando is off, refusing to look back at Oscar to see what he has to say.
It feels unnecessarily mean, but he feels like he’s suffocating around Oscar—not of Oscar’s own fault, but more because he doesn’t deserve the love that Oscar gives him. It’s too much, it’s too good, and Lando feels like he will drown in it.
He avoids Oscar for the rest of the day, busying himself with work, and the aching feeling in his gut increases tenfold being away from his boyfriend for so long. His movements are laggy and slow, and he feels on edge, aware all too much of his body language, his voice, his tone.
He reminds himself when he talks to others to be quiet, don’t interrupt, don’t talk so much, and it feels like an impossible task, but he forces himself to do it anyway. He should’ve been doing it this whole time, he should’ve been more restrained, more normal, easier to handle.
There's this pit in his stomach, a hollow thing, and guilt that twists up inside him. He feels bad for everyone who’s ever met him, and his thoughts keep circling, over and over, that he’s just a nuisance to everyone who knows him.
By the time he’s on his way back to the hotel, there's that same prickling in his eyes, the telltale sign of tears, and he blinks them back too, willing himself not to cry until he’s safely in his room.
He and Oscar aren’t sharing a room, although Lando has been sneaking into Oscar’s room to sleep with him the past few nights. But he doesn’t think he has the heart to do it tonight, and he hopes his boyfriend doesn’t come looking for him, asking about him.
He doesn’t know how he would tell Oscar to go away, that it’s for his own good, that maybe he should just break up with Lando because it’s too much and Lando doesn’t deserve his kindness, he doesn’t deserve anything, just deserves to be alone. He just really wants to curl up in bed and cry his heart out, letting the feeling numb him out and releasing everything that’s been building inside him for who knows how long. Because it hurts, everything hurts, and Lando doesn’t know how to feel better.
Oscar always makes him feel better, but he can’t go be with Oscar because seeing Oscar hurts now too, and he can’t find comfort in himself, and he just feels completely miserable. The minute the car pulls up to the hotel, he’s rushing to his room, hoping to avoid everyone so he can be alone, so that no one asks questions and tries to fix it.
Because it feels like it can’t be fixed. Lando can’t be fixed. He’s too broken for anyone to deal with, and by the time he’s gotten into his room, closing the door quickly, he slides down it, bursting into tears again, chest heaving with the force of his sobs.
It feels like it’s ripped out of him, his cries and heavy breaths echoing off the cold empty room. But it feels right, somehow. To be alone at his most vulnerable. He wishes he knew how to control himself better, but he doesn’t, and so resigning himself to his room to be alone as he suffers is probably a mercy to everyone around him.
He only gets a few minutes to cry, head buried between his knees, before there's a knock on the door. Lando debates ignoring it or acting like he’s not there, but that would be rude, and Lando isn’t a mean person. Besides, he’s pretty sure he knows who it is anyway. Standing up feels like an insurmountable task though, and all he can do is pull his head up and sniff, wiping at his face as he tries to form words.
Oscar beats him to it. “Lando?”
He asks, and Lando can’t help but let out a whimper, shuddering against the door as he tries to compose himself. He should’ve known Oscar wouldn’t let him be, he’s just a good person like that. Always there for someone who needs help, no hesitation, even if that someone is Lando, who seems to need help with a lot of things.
“Lando, are you okay?” Oscar's voice is soft, so soft, and Lando wonders why he would ever pick Lando to be with, when there are tons of other people who would be better for him.
When Lando doesn’t reply, Oscar tries again. “Lando?”
Lando draws in a shaky breath, mind swirling with uncontrollable thoughts. He takes a shaky breath, trying to pull himself together, and then pushes off the floor. It takes him a moment to steady himself, and he knows he looks like a mess, but he feels bad leaving Oscar out there, not replying to him. It’s the best he can do to at least open the door.
When he pulls the door open, he’s met with Oscar's kind and worried face, and he nearly breaks down again. He takes another shaky breath, trying to stay in control of his own tidal wave of emotions.
“Hi, Osc,” he clears his throat, shuffling awkwardly at the door, voice raw and scratchy. “Uhm, is everything—"
“Lando, what’s wrong?” Oscar interrupts, not beating around the bush.
He steps into the apartment, and Lando steps back to make room for him, and then the door closes and Oscar’s hands are on Lando’s elbows, ever so gentle.
“Have you been crying?” Oscar’s face is flooded with worry, eyes flickering over Lando’s face as they had earlier, taking in his tear-stained cheeks, his puffy eyes, his reddish nose.
Lando shakes his head, the words getting caught in his throat, as he tries and tries to be strong. As he tries not to cause more problems for Oscar to have to deal with. But Oscar looks so genuine and caring, and Lando is so tired, and so he can’t control the weak sob that leaves his mouth.
Oscar is on him in a second, arms wrapped around him, cradling him and murmuring softly into his hair as Lando wets his shoulder with his tears, body shaking. Guilt makes him feel even worse, and despite how much he’s cried today, he finds that he still has more tears left in him. Exhaustion pulls at him, and he finds himself heavily leaning into Oscar, into the comfort and warmth of him.
Oscar gently moves them to the couch, one step at a time, until he’s sitting and lowering Lando down onto his lap. Lando goes with ease, legs bracketing Oscar’s, sitting on his lap, so he can keep hugging him. Oscar cards a hand through his curls and presses kisses everywhere he can reach, and Lando chokes on the affection. It feels so nice to be held by Oscar, and he finds himself calming easily in his arms, breathing slowing and body going lax.
Oscar is still murmuring comforting words into Lando’s hair, gently caressing his arms, and after a while of just melting into Oscar’s warm body, finding the comfort he desperately needs, Lando pulls his head up. He’s got an awful headache, probably from all the crying, and he feels exhaustion settle deep in his bones.
Oscar moves his hands to cup Lando’s face, his thumbs caressing gently over Lando’s cheeks, swiping away the lingering tears. He presses a gentle kiss to Lando’s nose, looking at Lando with concern and so much love.
“Do you want to lie down?” Oscar asks, because of course he thinks of things like that, always so thoughtful. Lando nods, unable to muster up the strength to say anything, and Oscar hums lightly.
“I’m going to carry you, okay?” Oscar asks, and Lando nods again. Oscar picks him up gently, hands under his thighs, and when he stands, Lando wraps his legs around Oscar’s hips, arms wrapped around his neck. Oscar presses a kiss to Lando’s neck, and then they’re moving to the bedroom.
Oscar places Lando down gently, and Lando untangles himself from Oscar’s hold, pushing himself back on the bed. Oscar leans forward to kiss his cheek, and pulls back a little.
“I’m going to get you some pyjamas, is that okay?” He asks, and Lando nods, settling against the pillows, a warmth slowly filling him as he feels Oscar’s love, like a physical, tangible thing. It soothes him in a way he can’t explain, flooding through him and relaxing his wound-up body.
Oscar pulls pyjamas from Lando’s suitcase and brings them over to the bed. He offers Lando a smile, reassuring and sweet.
“Do you want help? Or can you do it yourself,” he asks, and Lando hums, struggling between giving in to what he wants and what he thinks would be better for Oscar. Before he can overthink his way into another spiral, Oscar is reaching for his hand, squeezing gently, as if he knows Lando is about to work himself up.
“If you want help, I’ll help you. Don’t worry, it’s not a problem for me,” he reassures, and he lifts Lando’s hand to press a warm kiss to his knuckles.
Lando swallows, struggling to find the words, before he clears his throat. “Help? Please,” he asks, voice quivering a bit, biting his lip. He would do it himself, but he’s just so exhausted, and the idea of his boyfriend helping him makes him feel all warm inside. He studies Oscar’s face for any sign of annoyance or disappointment, but he finds none.
“Okay,” Oscar says, and he kisses Lando’s hand one more time before moving closer to him on the bed. He gently holds Lando’s face again, and kisses him, effectively stopping Lando from biting his lip anxiously.
He pulls away, eyes crinkling softly in a smile, and he moves his hands down slowly, until they’re slipping under Lando’s shirt. He brushes his hands up and down Lando’s side, caressing him softly over his ribs and stomach, the gesture soothing.
“Okay?” Oscar asks, looking for confirmation, and Lando nods.
Oscar pushes his hands up further, until he’s pulling Lando’s shirt over his head. Everything feels so loving and soft, Oscar taking his time to also remove Lando’s pants, before helping him into his pyjamas. It's all so domestic and intimate, and Lando feels like his heart is bursting with love for his boyfriend.
Once he’s settled into his pyjamas, feeling much more comfortable, Oscar helps Lando settle under the covers before crawling in beside him. He throws an arm over Lando’s waist as they take a moment to just look at each other, breaths mingling together. Lando can feel himself sinking into the bed, exhaustion tugging at him, feeling surrounded by warmth that relaxes his body and mind.
“Lando,” Oscar asks gently, running a soothing hand over Lando’s arm. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”
Lando wants to say no. He really does, because he hates that Oscar is willing to put up with so much from him. But another part of him is desperate to get it out, to tell someone what happened, why he’s so upset. Bearing his insecurities to someone else feels super scary, but he reminds himself that it’s his boyfriend, who loves him. Sharing something intimate like that is like handing Oscar a piece of his heart, and Oscar has proved more than enough times that he will cherish Lando until the end of time. And he would never, ever judge him, has never judged him, and constantly reminds him that he isn’t wrong for having feelings and being emotional.
“What happened, love?” Oscar nudges when Lando nods, gazing into Lando’s eyes, with a slight desperation, like he wants to know so he can make everything better for Lando. So he can take his pain and carry it too. Lando sniffles, feeling wrung out and exhausted, and he feels like there’s no point trying to pretend he’s fine anymore, not when his tears and snot had dampened Oscar’s shirt, when he’d cried and shook against him for a good 20 minutes.
“I’m sorry,” Lando finds himself saying, and really it’s the only thing he has left in him. He feels like he needs to say it, needs to tell Oscar just how sorry he is for constantly coming to him with problems, for not being happy all the time. For not being normal.
Oscar shakes his head, brows furrowing lightly. “You have nothing to be sorry for, baby,” he tells him. “You’re allowed to be upset, to be unhappy. I just want to know, so I can help.”
Lando nods, the reassurance settling something deep in him, and then, with a shaky breath, he tells Oscar everything. How he had been needing someone to talk to about his interest, how he missed Oscar and felt a little sad that he couldn’t talk to him, how that sadness had grown when everyone else seemed super busy too. How he thought Charles had wanted to talk, but he ended up annoying him instead.
“I just,” Lando says, and he’s not crying but he does sound distressed. “I feel like I annoy everyone. I feel like I’m too much and everyone just puts up with me, but in their minds they want me to stop talking so much.”
Oscar hums, listening as always, but he doesn’t look happy with what he’s hearing. Lando knows it’s not because of himself, but because Oscar gets unhappy when Lando thinks negatively about himself.
“I wonder if secretly everyone hates me,” Lando lets out a dry laugh.
“And I wonder if you feel overwhelmed with me too. I know I can be a lot and I just— I can’t stop wondering if you’d be better off with someone else. Someone better than me,” he chokes on the last sentence, squeezing his eyes shut as another wave of emotions hits.
Oscar’s hand keeps up its slow rhythm of caresses, and it's silent for a moment before he speaks up. “Lando, can you look at me?”
Lando opens his eyes, met again with Oscar’s own, and Oscar’s mouth is pulled into a frown.
“I love you,” Oscar says, and he says it with what feels like his whole self—pouring everything into that sentence, so Lando knows he means it. “I love you so much, you are the best thing that’s happened to me, and I don’t want anyone else.”
Lando’s breath hitches, and Oscar keeps going. “You’re loud, and funny, and a little silly, but those are all things I love about you. I love when you get excited, because you look all happy and you’re so passionate, and it’s beautiful. I learn so much and I get to see you enjoy yourself. And that’s precious to me," he says. “And I would never want someone else, because I am so, so happy being with you. You’re never too much for me, you’re the perfect amount, and I will always love whatever you have to give to me and to the world.”
“I know it might be a lot for some people, it might be hard for them to understand, but that doesn’t mean you’re in the wrong. You’re just you, and anyone who hates you for it, doesn’t see the light you bring to everything, the joy you bring to many people, is an idiot. Although I don’t think you give yourself enough credit, lots of people love your enthusiasm and your charm. Especially me.” He punctuates that one with a kiss to Lando’s forehead, and a small laugh bubbles up from Lando’s chest, warm and bright.
“I know today’s interaction didn’t go quite how you planned, but don’t let that deter you from being yourself,” Oscar says, and Lando fights back a smile. “Okay?”
“Okay,” he replies, arms moving to wrap around Oscar, burying his face into Oscar’s neck. “I love you,” he says, muffled into Oscar’s skin.
“I love you too,” Oscar answers, and Lando believes him. All his negative thoughts seem to go away with Oscar’s words, fading out as they’re replaced with loving and kind words that stick with him. He feels all warm and fuzzy inside, and he presses himself closer to Oscar, wanting to convey all the love he has right back to Oscar. To tell him, without words, just how grateful he is for Oscar, how much he loves him, with his heart and soul and whole being.
They’re almost asleep, curled up in each other's embrace, slowly relaxing and being lulled to sleep, when the phone rings. Lando grumbles, recognizing the ringtone as his, and turns to his nightstand to get it, only to find Carlos’ name on the screen when he pulls it to his face.
Oscar peeks over, and seeing the name as well, runs a hand over Lando's back.
“It’s up to you,” he says softly. “But I have a feeling he might be calling to apologize.”
Lando nods, debating for a second to leave it ringing, but it’s overridden by curiosity, and the fact that he doesn’t feel as bad as he did earlier. He’s not mad at Charles, and doesn’t hold his comment against him, so he answers.
“Charles?”
“Lando, you’re awake, good,” Charles’ voice sounds through the phone. “I wanted to,” he clears his throat. “Well, I’m sorry if I made you upset earlier, I was not feeling well, but I should have been nicer,” he admits.
“No, Charles, it’s okay. I should’ve picked up that you weren’t in the mood, it’s my mistake. Don’t worry, I’m not upset,” Lando tells him, hoping to convey the honesty in his voice.
“Okay,” Charles says, and after a second, he adds, “We can talk next time about it, if you would like. I am curious about what you were saying.”
Lando perks up a little, and he smiles. “Yeah, sure, Charles. That sounds good.”
“Okay,” Charles says, and there is shuffling from the other end of the phone. “Im going to bed now. Goodnight.”
“G’night,” Lando says, and he hangs up, feeling satisfied. Oscar leans over to kiss Lando’s shoulder. “How’d it go?”
“He said sorry, and that we can talk next time,” Lando says, placing his phone back on the nightstand before he turns back to Oscar. He leans up to kiss him, a gentle peck, which Oscar reciprocates.
“That’s good, love,” Oscar says, and he pets Lando's head. “How about we get some sleep, hm? You must be tired from earlier.”
“Yeah, that sounds good,” Lando says, yawning, and he curls himself back into Oscar’s hold, warm and safe and home. He doesn’t resist sleep as it comes for him, feeling content and loved, with the man he loves holding him gently.