Chapter Text
Lando "NoWins" Norris Strikes Again! Rookie Oscar Piastri Upsets His Chance at Grand Prix Gold!
[Attached is an image of Lando Norris entering a salchow jump, side-by-side with an image of Oscar Piastri doing a camel spin.]
For just over three seasons now, the British Lando Norris has been considered a figure skater with seemingly endless potential. Despite that, his career has been remarkably mediocre. Over the course of his career, he has achieved several podiums and accolades- but never first place. Widely considered one of the most promising young skaters in his junior years, fans of the sport expected him to break out as a star during his transition to seniors. Instead, they are now faced with the reality of what might be considered one of the largest cases of "what could've been."
Things appeared to be taking a solid turn for Norris at his first competition of this season at Skate America (the United States Grand Prix).
He produced his highest career score in the short program and seemed to be guaranteed a gold for the first time. Unfortunately for him, rookie Australian Oscar Piastri had different plans. After ending the short program in second place, the rookie skated an exceptional free skate. Despite Norris producing a flawless free program, Piastri secured his maiden gold and sent Norris back to the spot he is so familiar with- second place.
The start of the season is already off to a wild start. The shocking debut of Oscar Piastri in the midst of an Olympic season has certainly switched up previous ideas about what the Australian team could look like in Milan. Similarly, if the cruelly nicknamed "NoWins" Norris wants a bid to Milan, a gold medal is essential to his campaign.
[Read more...]
Lando slammed the paper down on the table, then slumped into a chair. George, who was sitting across from him with his leg propped up on the table, lifted an unimpressed eyebrow.
"Did you read this?" Lando asked. The other man leaned forward and took a glance at the title of the article. He pursed his lips. "I have not."
Lando huffed and crossed his arms. "This has to be some kind of smear campaign. Surely no one really cares that some nobody beat me. It was the first competition of the season!"
George just hummed and put his phone down.
"What?" Lando asked, "Why are you making that face?"
George bit his lip, then said, "Well. Honestly, mate, you did lose to a guy nobody has seen in two years. You can't blame them for trying to make it a thing."
"It's not a thing!" Lando said petulantly.
"It's totally a thing," Kimi interjected helpfully. The younger boy plopped down in the chair next to Lando, throwing the bag with his skates attached onto the ground carelessly. Lando rolled his eyes, "Okay, you guys are the worst."
That was the moment Toto chose to walk in. The tall man had been Lando's coach since he was in juniors. Together with George, they had taken the figure skating circuit by storm and practically monopolized juniors for a few years. When they moved up to seniors, Kimi entered the picture. A young, talented prodigy who was making the move to seniors just in time for the Olympic season.
"Sounds like you guys are pretty energetic today," Toto said, flipping through a notebook in his hands. "That's good, because today's gonna be terrible. We have a lot of work to do."
Lando leaned forward and banged his head against the table, totally undramatically. He could hear George and Kimi laughing at him. Whatever.
A hand touched his shoulder, and he looked up. Toto was hovering over him. "We're dealing with the article. Don't worry about media nonsense."
Lando slumped in his seat a little and let out a small puff of air.
"Let's begin. George, congratulations on first. You probably got the easiest Grand Prix selection ever, but a win is a win, I suppose," Toto said. George rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything. Toto continued, "Kimi, excellent debut. Fourth in your first senior level competition is something to be proud of. It's upwards from here."
Lando braced himself for the comment the man would have about his performance. Mediocre, second place. NoWins.
"Lando, your skate was excellent. I couldn't have asked for any better. Nobody could have expected Piastri to return. Just an unfortunate luck of the draw, that's all it was."
The skater nodded, unsure what to say to that. It seemed kind of silly to blame his loss on something like an unexpected comeback. Besides, Piastri's return to skating shouldn't have been so... noteworthy.
Lando remembered when he competed against him for the first time. Over four years ago, when Lando was still in juniors and battling George for first and second, Oscar Piastri entered the picture. The boy was described as a child prodigy. Somebody who would go on to dominate figure skating and ultimately bring Australia an Olympic gold.
At that competition, Piastri had ended up in bronze. When Lando congratulated the younger boy, he had dodged eye contact. Piastri had opened his mouth for a moment, as if he was going to say something, but a man appeared at his side.
Lando thought he recognized the man as Zak Brown, Piastri's coach. The man was wearing all black with a disgustingly orange hat, and his facial expression was anything but kind. Lando kind of felt uncomfortable just looking at the guy.
If Lando thought Piastri looked tense before, he had looked downright frigid at the appearance of his coach.
Zak's fingers were wrapped tight around Piastri's wrist. He glanced at Lando with pure disdain in his eyes before leaning towards Piastri's ear to whisper into it. Then, without a word to Lando, he dragged the boy away. Piastri didn't look back.
He never saw him again, and just two years later, the boy disappeared from figure skating. Nobody was sure where he went.
Lando hadn't had much of a reason to think about him after that. Especially not with the constant rivalry with George, and the ever-looming presence of his own lack of gold medals.
He shifted in his seat, ignoring Kimi's protests about conditioning. The younger boy always begged their coach to skip conditioning, but he always ended up completing it in the end. "Do you believe that?" George's voice cut through his thoughts.
"Believe what?" He asked.
"Luck of the draw?" George repeated Toto's words from earlier.
Lando shrugged. "Do you?"
George tilted his head thoughtfully. "I think," he said slowly, "the competition just got a lot steeper."
The words sank in. George had voiced what Lando was trying to avoid. Piastri was good. If that was his first competitive skate after two years, how would he perform after a few more competitions? Lando swallowed a lump in his throat.
Since he was little, he dreamed of making the Olympic team. For a while, it seemed so possible, but when he stepped into seniors facing a massive slump, that dream simply became that. A dream.
Entering his fourth season, and first full Olympic season, he knew that it could be his only chance. Figure skating was a sport that rewarded young stars. Not people "past their prime" like Lando.
Luckily, or unluckily, the UK wasn’t particularly great at skating. It meant less competition for the Olympic spots, but they only got two of them in Men’s singles, and George was practically guaranteed the first spot. That left one for him and the rest of the British skaters to battle for.
He needed a win this season. Preferably multiple.
While he wasn't in direct competition for the Olympic spot, if he kept medal-blocking Lando, Piastri could cause some serious problems.
“Piastri…” Lando muttered to himself while they walked towards the rink to do some conditioning. George looked at him curiously. “What about him?” He asked.
“Did we ever find out what happened to him?”
George got an odd look on his face while he sat down to tie his skates.
“What’s that look for?” Lando asked, doing the same.
“Well… there were rumors, of course. Nothing was ever confirmed.” George said, eyeing Toto in the distance.
“What kind of rumors?” He questioned. He found himself leaning closer to the older skater.
George shook his head and stood up. “The bad kind. He’s someone you should try to avoid.”
And with that, George stepped onto the rink and left Lando no choice but to follow. Privately, he thought it was rather funny George said he should try to avoid him. Lando loved trouble, and he was a curious guy.
ESPN SPORT @ESPNSport
BREAKING: Oscar Piastri boldly claims he “has no interest in pushing for an Olympic bid.” Instead, the rookie states he’s going to “skate as I always do, and let the results speak for themselves.” Is he possibly making a jab at Lando Norris’ recent interview… READ MORE: www.espn.com/figureskating
misha @axelrussell
replying to @ESPNSport
bros been skating for like a month and is already trying to beef with lando. consider me a fan
leesie @landddruss3
replying to @axelrussell
george fans try not to hate on his teammate challenge: failed YET AGAIN.
A few weeks later, Lando found himself at the French Grand Prix.
He felt good in warmups, and Toto even said he was in great form. Unfortunately for him, though, George Russell happened to be in the same Grand Prix as him.
He sat on the sidelines watching him perform his short program. George was what they called a “total package.” His jumps and technique were next level, but he also had the artistry that people tended to lack.
People like Lando, evidently.
He watched as the older boy executed a beautiful triple axel into a footwork sequence that was probably going to leave the judges drooling. The song that played in the background was a beautiful piano piece that George managed to extract every bit of emotion out of.
By the end of it, even Lando had to applaud the boy. It was a flawless short program.
He took a deep breath and held his fist to his chest in an attempt to steady himself. He couldn’t deny he was nervous. Anytime he had to compete against his teammate, the headlines could be particularly… nasty.
“You ok?” Kimi’s hand on his shoulder shook him out of his thoughts. The younger boy was wearing sweatpants and a black jacket with the Italian flag on the front. He wasn’t selected for the French Grand Prix, but he tagged along anyway.
Probably just to get out of school.
Lando nodded. “I’m fine, just getting ready,” he said.
Kimi hummed, then smirked. “Well, you aren’t going to beat George, so don’t go getting any crazy ideas.”
Lando rolled his eyes. How kind.
He heard his name called over the intercom in the noisy arena, and the cheering increased for a moment. He went to slip off his blade covers, ignoring Kimi’s totally helpful advice.
“Just skate how you always do, you know? You’re pretty good when you aren’t trying too hard.” Kimi said, right before Lando went onto the rink.
Lando felt warmth spread through his body. Kimi was definitely not the compliment type, so that was high praise coming from the rookie. He offered him a smile in return, then glided onto the ice.
He got himself into position in center ice, closing his eyes to avoid looking at the large crowd surrounding him. The icy air bit at his cheeks and he could already feel his skin turning red. His heart was racing slightly.
He loved it.
When his music started, his body moved on instinct. He worked through the program effortlessly, moving his arms at the right angles and trying to keep his facial expression perfect.
His music for the season was something a little different than what he normally did. Usually, his programs matched his personality– loud, fun, and not too much artistry involved. The bare minimum of deep edges and choreography.
Him and Toto decided to change it up for the Olympic campaign in the hopes of appealing to the judges a little bit more. It presented a new challenge for Lando, though, because he had never done a flowery program before.
When he reached his first jump, a triple axel, he felt much more comfortable. He kicked off into a near-perfect jump, reveling in the way his blade scraped the ice, and the audience erupted around him.
He loved jumps. They were his favorite part of a program. It was another reason the media liked to rip into him. Claims of how he was “ruining figure skating’s artistry” were nothing new to him.
He didn’t mind that headline, though. It was one of the few ones he could easily ignore. Jumping was a part of the sport, and it happened to be the part he was best at. He didn’t see why that was such a problem, and he frankly didn’t care.
He stumbled for a moment on his step sequence, but it was subtle and wouldn’t dock too many points so he tried to push it out of his mind.
His next jump was a quadruple lutz into a triple toe loop. A relatively difficult combination, but nothing too hard for Lando. He completed it and was greeted with more applause when he landed. He forced his smile away, trying to follow the music.
The feeling of the cold air on his body and the sound of the crowd screaming his name were some of the things he loved about figure skating.
Despite the cruel nicknames and articles he frequently starred in, he would never choose to do anything else.
When he went into his ending pose, sweat dripping down his neck, for a moment, he was able to breathe properly. The adrenaline settling in his body was a wonderful feeling. A high that he always chased.
No amount of terrible articles or silver medals could take that away from him.
The Championship Series Wraps Up: Which Skaters Qualified for the Grand Prix Final?
[Attached is an image of George Russell, Lando Norris, and Alex Albon standing on the podium in first, second, and third respectively.]
The exhilarating 2025 Grand Prix series wrapped up this weekend in Finland with a stunning victory from Oscar Piastri. The Australian skater delivered a beautiful short program, and although his free skate had a minor fall in one of his jumps, he secured the win and guaranteed a spot in the Grand Prix Final.
Earlier in the week, the French Grand Prix provided some interesting results. Alex Albon secured the first podium of his career with bronze. His skate was noted as “passionate and enticing,” and overall was relatively clean.
To the surprise of nobody, Lando Norris was silver, and George Russell finished with yet another gold medal to add to his collection. Although Norris made a valiant attempt with his fresh new programs for the Olympic season, Russell simply outclassed him.
Russell is the projected winner of the 2026 Olympics. If this prediction holds true, he will be the first British winner of the men’s singles event since 1980.
The full lineup for the Grand Prix Final includes some notable names: Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, and Carlos Sainz are among those. Lando Norris and George Russell also secured their spots with their placements in France.
The most shocking skater this season is perhaps Oscar Piastri. Despite not competing for two seasons, he has managed a comeback stronger than anybody could have expected and secured his own position in the Grand Prix Final. Overall, figure skater fans are confident that the conclusion to the Championship Series will be one for the ages.
The Final will take place in Nagoya, Japan in early December.
lando
Liked by georgerussell63, wolffskating, and 113,402 others
lando excited to have made it to the gpf. grateful for all my fans <3
View all 1,573 comments
georgerussell63: getting used to that silver medal, aye mate?
lando: @georgerussell63 what a lovely teammate
wolffskating: best season yet 🔜
piastriiigold: oscar better
GEORGERUSSELL69: This guy really thinks he stands a chance. When's he gonna retire? It's getting ridiculous at this point.
giannnna: england already has a championship skater and it's not you!!!!
landoiceprince: @giannnna you realize that they're teammates right... like they have the same coach. they're friends.
kimi.antonelli: you need a haircut. congratz on the qualifying!
lando: @kimi.antonelli thx m8 you too
The flight to Japan was a long one. It gave Lando plenty of time to scroll social media and look at hate comments. Not that he did that, because that would be stupid. Totally stupid.
"What are you doing?" George asked suspiciously from the seat next to him.
Lando's face went red and he promptly slammed his phone onto his tray table. "Nothing!" He said quickly.
George raised an eyebrow and nodded slowly. "Right then, I'm just gonna assume you were watching porn."
Lando banged his head against his seat with a huff, then angled his body to face the older boy. "I was on Twitter, that's it."
"Watching porn?" George asked with a smirk.
"Jesus Christ! No!" Lando shouted a little too loudly. He winced and spared a glance at Kimi, who was sleeping in a seat across the aisle, still softly snoring.
George laughed and brushed his shoulder with his hand, "I'm just kidding, mate. I know you were just reading hate tweets again."
He doesn't even have a response for that, because it was true. George let out a sigh and put down the book he was holding. "What are you thinking right now?" He asked, and his voice was surprisingly soft.
Lando didn't know what the other boy saw on his face, but it felt like he was reading right through him. He resisted the urge to pull a hoodie string into his mouth.
"Well?" George prompted.
Lando pursed his lips and said, "Honestly. I just really want to win. Just once. That's all it would take to shut them up."
He tried to act like it didn't bother him, but whenever his posts were flooded with comments about his lack of gold medals, it affected him. He would've been insane if it didn't.
"I feel like I just have shit luck," He added sadly.
George looked at him for a moment, analyzing. Lando's face burned under it. "I think you're thinking way too much," He said, then continued, "Are you coming to the skater dinner tonight?"
Lando blinked at the sudden change in topic. "The what?" He asked.
"The skater dinner," George repeated, only looking mildly annoyed. "Did you not get the text from Albon in the group chat?"
Lando squinted his eyes for a moment. "What group chat? Ohhh, wait. The one I have muted?"
George pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded. The other boy flipped his phone back over and opened the Messages app, scrolling to the group chat filled with figure skaters.
[mens skaters ⛸️]
Alex Albon: hey guys! just wanted to reach out and see if any of you guys are coming to the GPF and might wanna hang out? we could get dinner or smth!
Charles Leclerc: I like that idea. Anyone know any good places in Nagoya?
(Maybe: Max Verstappen) 824-109-3841: I know a great sushi place.
George: Lando hates sushi. And anything that comes from the sea. Any other ideas?
(Maybe: Yuki Tsunoda) 759-189-8423: i can find someplace dw bout it.
(Maybe: Yuki Tsunoda) 759-189-8423: i will also make sure they have non-fish options
Lando's heart warmed a little bit at George's message. He was surprised the boy even remembered; they were friends, sure, but they didn't really hang out when they weren't at the rink. He still didn't want to go to dinner, though.
He knew what some of the other skaters thought of him. They would never say it to his face, but it was obvious that they wondered why he hadn't given up yet. Why he was even bothering going for an Olympic spot.
"So, are you going?" George asked.
"Um," he began. "I don't know. Would they even want me there? I don't really hang out with them a lot." He fiddled with the sleeves of his hoodie, eyes locked on the tray table in front of him.
The other boy tilted his head and his expression softened slightly. "Of course they do. You're in the group chat, aren't you?" The words were surprisingly gentle for George. Before Lando could let that sink in, he added, "Don't be stupid, stupid."
Lando let out a small sigh at that. "Fine, whatever. I'll go." He would just sit at the end of the table and play on his phone the whole time. Maybe have a few drinks.
George smiled and then turned his attention back to his book, seemingly satisfied with his answer. Lando opened Twitter on his phone and started scrolling again, this time trying to avoid the hate threads about him. One tweet caught his eye, though.
ESPN SPORT @ESPNSport
Who is going to win the Figure Skating Grand Prix Final in Japan? Top contenders like George Russell and Charles Leclerc seem like shoe-ins, but could rookie Oscar Piastri cause an upset? Or could an even larger upset occur: Lando "NoWins" Norris' first victory? READ MORE: www.espn.com/figureskating
Harry Bronwyn @HarryBronwynFS
replying to @ESPNSport
Piastri could be a gamechanger in this upcoming Final. Obviously George is favored to win, but I am certainly preparing for surprises!
"Hey," Lando said, poking George with his slightly shaky finger. "Is Piastri in this group chat?" He chose to ignore the final sentence of the tweet.
George looked at him with apprehension, an eyebrow raised in concern. "No, I don't think he is. Why?" He asked.
Lando shrugged, "Just wondering." He paused for a minute, then added, "Why not?" George inhaled deeply and flipped his book face down on the tray table.
"Alex made the group chat. He chooses who's in it," he said simply.
Lando nudged him forward. He knew there was more to the story than that. Albon added just about anyone to their group chat, desperate for some kind of friendship to form between all of them.
George rolled his eyes, but continued, "Well. Alex met him at Skate America. He apparently tried to talk to the guy, and he just brushed him off. Obviously Alex wasn't exactly eager to befriend him after that."
Lando thought back to his first memories of Oscar Piastri. He frowned slightly, remembering the way he was blatantly ignored. He had been offended in the moment, but it had been years since that happened. He had hoped he might have changed over time, but if he was rude to Albon of all people, then something had to be seriously wrong with the guy.
"That's... well. Maybe he was just having a bad day?" He offered, but the words came out flat.
George huffed, "Yeah. Okay. I'm telling you, Lando. The guy's a proper asshole. I bet he thinks he's too good to associate with us."
Lando hummed, twiddling his thumbs on his lap. "You're probably right," he said.
But he had to wonder, was there a reason the younger boy distanced himself? He did take a hiatus from skating, which was practically unheard of. He didn't voice his thoughts. He was already sure of George's response to them.
He seemed pretty confident in his opinion.
"You're making that face," George commented.
Lando pinched his eyebrows, "What face?"
George crossed his arms, "The one where you're trying to create a sob story for someone who doesn't have one."
The words were harsh, but probably true. Lando tended to feel a little too empathetic towards people who might not have deserved it.
"Stop worrying about some random guy. You need to focus on skating right now. Tomorrow is huge for you," George continued, tone taking on a softer edge.
Lando knew he was right.
Tomorrow was the short program. It was key to his potential victory, or at least in earning a spot on the podium. He needed to forget about Piastri for the moment.
He heard Kimi shift across the aisle, but he didn't wake up. Somewhere behind them, a baby had started crying. Lando adjusted his hoodie and sank further into his seat.
The plane jolted slightly and Lando instinctively reached for the armrest.
George laughed next to him and said, "Relax. If the plane goes down, at least you won't have to worry about winning."
"Not funny."
"It's a little funny."
Lando rolled his eyes, but a reluctant smile formed anyway. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, forcing himself to relax. He would do his best tomorrow, but first, he would conquer the dinner from hell.
lando
Liked by georgerussell63, wolffskating, and 97,394 others
lando landed in japan! we're ready to go for tomorrow ✊
View all 573 comments
wolffskating: big things happening in nagoya!
georgerussell63: worst flight ever.
lando: @georgerussell63 🖕
OSCARWINS67: You might as well leave and go home now.
Checking into the hotel was a nightmare. It wasn't that late in Japan, but the jetlag was really messing with Lando's head. His hair was a shaggy mess, and he had an imprint on his cheek from his wired earbuds.
He stood in the lobby, leaning a little bit too much weight on his suitcase.
George and Kimi's rooms were ready as soon as they checked in, but his was having a little bit of a delay. All he wanted to do was get in the shower and attempt to scrub off the smell of airplane.
He was watching Toto talk to the receptionist when someone abruptly ran into him. His grip on his suitcase loosened and he felt himself leaning to the side, but a hand on his waist stabilized him.
Irritation filled his body. He was already exhausted and now this had to happen.
"Oh shit," an Australian said.
Lando froze at the familiar voice. He looked up and saw Oscar Piastri holding him up. His light brown hair was falling over his forehead effortlessly and he looked cozy in a good way. The only way Lando could describe him was pretty. He looked pretty.
The thought shocked Lando. He instantly backed away, practically shoving his hand off of him.
Piastri raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. "Sorry," he said flatly. He looked completely disinterested.
Lando straightened, pulling his suitcase back up from where it had hit the ground. "You should watch where you're going," he bit, brushing off his hoodie even though there was nothing there.
"I was," Piastri replied evenly. "You leaned into me."
Lando recoiled at that, eyes widening. "Are you serious mate? I was just standing there!"
The younger boy didn't answer. He just stared at Lando with an unimpressed expression. Lando paused to take a deep breath. He was tired and overreacting.
"Sorry," Lando said, echoing the boy's earlier words. "I'm just ready to take a nap."
Piastri didn't say anything, but he nodded slowly. Lando felt a little bad for being rude to him, so he tried to think of something else to say. Then, he thought about the skater dinner. It was the perfect olive branch.
"Hey," he began, "A few skaters are all getting together tonight to go eat. Do you wanna come?"
Piastri looked surprised at the question, eyebrows slightly raising. Before he could answer, a relatively tall man slid in next to him. "Hey, Norris," the man acknowledged Lando, Australian accent thick.
Lando nodded at him in greeting. Then, he turned his attention back to Piastri, who had taken another step back from Lando.
The boy had his arms crossed, and he was leaning a little into the space of the man next to him. "You ready to go?" The man asked and Piastri quickly nodded.
Before Lando could process what was happening, they walked towards the elevators without even a wave goodbye.
He watched them go with his mouth slightly open. He had no idea what just happened. The guy ran into him and then didn't even apologize, and then ignored him again. He was two-for-two in being blatantly disregarded in conversations with Piastri.
Still, as he finally found his way to his hotel room and threw himself onto the king sized bed, he couldn't help but think about the boy. The interaction had brought up memories of his first time meeting Piastri. The slight tremble in his hands when his coach appeared.
As far as he was aware, Piastri wasn't with that coach anymore, which got him thinking.
Despite the urge to fall asleep face-down on the mattress, he reached for his phone and opened Google.
Google oscar piastri coach
AI Overview
Oscar Piastri's coach has changed in recent years. In his stint in juniors, his coach was Zak Brown, a man who is known for manufacturing talented skaters. He has produced three Olympic medalists in his career. Upon his return to figure skating, Piastri switched coaches to the two-time World silver medalist, Mark Webber. The media is unsure of the reason for the switch, but some speculate it is because Webber is Australian and is closer to home for Piastri.
Australian Broadcasting Corporation
https://www.abc.net.au > news > coaching-change-cr...
Zak Brown Discusses Oscar Piastri's Future in the Midst...
Jan 16, 2023 - In a shocking move, Zak Brown has announced Oscar Piastri's retirement from...
He skimmed over the AI words but Lando's attention was drawn to the news article from the year Piastri quit skating. He quickly clicked the link, rolling over onto his back.
Zak Brown Discusses Oscar Piastri's Future in the Midst of Shocking Retirement
In a shocking move, Zak Brown has announced Oscar Piastri's retirement from the world of competitive figure skating.
"He reached a point in his career where he felt he could no longer do it," the coach stated. "It happens sometimes with young athletes. They reach a certain level and aren't quite mentally strong enough for it."
We asked him what he believed was Piastri's biggest motivation for stepping away from the sport. Brown didn't have a concrete answer, stating that the skater had simply grown tired of the sport. "Young prodigies can be that way. They like it when it's easy, but when it starts to get tough... well."
Oscar Piastri was a young rising star in figure skating. He won several gold medals throughout his junior years, and he was expected to be a breakout star when he reached seniors this upcoming season. He is known for his clean, precise programs but has been noted by judges for a lack of emotion and artistry.
When asked if there is a possibility for a return from the young star, Brown seemed confident that there isn't a chance. "I think he reached the tipping point," he said simply.
Lando's jaw clenched when he finished reading the short article. The words were entirely biased, framing Piastri to be some sort of quitter, but Lando wasn't quite sure that was the case. The way his coach had behaved when Lando met him had definitely raised some red flags, and that article certainly did not help.
George's words about Lando "making up sob stories" lingered in his mind, but he couldn't push away the questions that were forming.
Had Piastri simply quit skating, or had his old coach ran him out? And if that was the case, why did he come back at all? And why was he still so adamant on avoiding the other skaters?
It just didn't make sense. Lando thought searching him up on Google would've answered his questions, but instead, he was left with even more.
That night, after a long and much needed nap, Lando forced himself to go to the dinner. He put on a Team Wolff hoodie and a pair of jeans, nearly forgot his phone, then walked out the door to meet Kimi and George in the lobby.
When he got down there, Alex Albon and Carlos Sainz were already there, too. After he greeted them, he found out they were riding together in an Uber that was way too small for all 5 of them. They crammed together, thighs pressing against each other uncomfortably.
The group was a loud one, and Lando spent the whole car ride wishing he had brought earbuds.
They were talking about ice dancing, a discipline Lando was always pretty indifferent to. The guy liked to jump, can you blame him?
He found out that Carlos' girlfriend apparently was an ice dancer. Lando hadn't even known he had a girlfriend.
When they finally reached the restaurant, they climbed out like it was a clown car, stumbling onto their feet. The place looked pretty neat, but the smell of fish hit Lando as soon as they walked in. It had a pretty cool aquarium theme that Lando thought he might've enjoyed seeing in pictures, but not in person.
The smell was making him a little bit ill already, and he could feel his mood dampening before they even reached the table. "I hope this is okay," George said as he walked next to him, "I checked the menu and they have burgers and stuff."
Lando looked at him and tried to give a small smile, "It's good."
When they reached the table, Lando was surprised by the turn-out. Yuki Tsunoda was sitting next to Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen. Somebody who he thought was Logan Sargeant was sitting next to Max.
Lewis Hamilton was there, which was shocking since he had retired from skating a few years ago. He was legendary, winning three Olympics before retiring. Lando had a few chances to meet him before, but the awe at seeing him in person hadn't entirely left.
Ollie Bearman, one of the rookies, was also there. He sat next to Nico Hulkenberg and Pierre Gasly. Esteban Ocon was across from them.
It seemed like the entire figure skating community was there. It was strange to see, since only six of them were actually competing, but the community had always been close-knit like that. It felt strange sitting down at the table full of skaters not competing and knowing Piastri wasn't there.
"So, Norris." Hamilton's voice caught his attention. "You think this is finally your year?"
The table went quiet at the question. Lando swallowed a lump in his throat, feeling his cheeks flush a little. He wished he had a drink.
"Um. I'm hopeful," he answered, unsure of what else to say.
The corner of Lewis' mouth twitched, and he leaned back in his chair. "Hopeful's good."
Max jumped in the conversation, "Your programs are different this year. Not so... you?"
Lando blinked. Was that supposed to be a compliment? He played with the edge of the napkin on the table and said, "Well. Toto thought a change would be good."
"Is it?" Charles asked, and he sounded so sincere. It made him want to be honest.
"I don't know," he admitted. "I like jumping. I like skating fast. The dramatic movements and footwork, well, I don't really care so much about that."
That got some laughs, and suddenly Lando was self-conscious. He rubbed the back of his sleeve.
"The dramatic movements win the Olympics," Lewis said, not unkindly. He was just stating a fact. Sure, technical points were becoming increasingly important, but a blatant disregard for artistry was guaranteeing bronze medals.
George, who had been quiet through the whole conversation, finally said, "He can do both."
Lando glanced at him, heart racing a little. Silence stretched on for a moment, like everyone was unsure of what to say after that.
Yuki clapped his hands and changed the subject, "What about that Piastri guy?"
George looked at Lando for a moment before answering, "Well, he's certainly good."
"His face could use some work..." Max commented, slightly smirking.
Charles smacked him on the arm, "You can't say that! He looks perfectly acceptable!"
Lando thought he looked a little more than acceptable, but he decided not to say that out loud.
Max rolled his eyes, "Obviously not the way it looks. His emotion while skating. He has great choreography and it flows very well. Very elegant. Great edges, of course. But he looks bored."
"He's good, though," Lando muttered, drawing the attention of the table. He sank into his seat a little, but continued. "I mean, obviously he looks a little... disinterested. But his technique is something else."
George looked at him knowingly, but didn't say anything. The rest of the table seemed to agree with him.
"So, why isn't he here?" Yuki asked bluntly.
There was a brief pause. Lando found himself praying that the waitress would come take their orders soon.
Alex answered quietly, "He just seems like the kind of guy who doesn't socialize much."
"You mean he isn't that kind of guy. Remember when he almost punched Charles in Korea a few years back?" Max said, eyebrows pinching. Lando certainly had not heard about that.
Lewis groaned, "Everything I hear about this guy is terrible. Do you remember why he got so mad at you Charles?"
Charles bit his lip, then opened his mouth to say something. The waitress came over and cut him off, "Hi everyone! I'm Ami, I'll be your server. Can I get you all started with something to drink?"
After they ordered their drinks, the conversation shifted, Piastri long forgotten by everybody else. Not Lando, though. His mind kept going back to the other boy. He found himself getting more and more curious about him the more he heard about him.
When the waitress came back around for food orders, Lando listened to more than half the table order fish. "And for you?" She asked kindly. Lando politely told her he wouldn't be eating and she nodded while taking his menu. George looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
"I'll order room service," he said, which seemed to be enough to please George.
He zoned out for the rest of the dinner, piping in on a few conversations about what was happening in Formula 1 and a new pop album that was released. Mostly, he sat in silence and tried to ignore the growing nausea in his gut that he blamed on the smell of the seafood.
Mostly, though, it was probably nerves.
He wasn't expecting much from the competition. He was going up against some of the best skaters in the world.
But every competition meant another fifty new articles about his lack of wins. That was something he never enjoyed.
The influx of comments and Youtube videos about him, most of them negative. The newer type of comments- the ones comparing him to Piastri.
He let out a sigh, chewing at the straw in his half-empty water.
The dinner lasted a lot longer than Lando thought it would. He poked his finger at a fry that George had tossed in his direction but he refused to eat. He knew they were made in the same frier as the fish.
The conversation was buzzing around him, but he still didn't feel inclined to join. He found himself getting antsy to leave. Kimi looked like he was about to fall asleep onto Ollie's shoulder.
Finally, Alex leaned back in his chair and announced, "Alright guys. It's getting late, I think we should head out so our competitors can have a chance to sleep." He paused, then said, "George, since you're the Olympic favorite, I think it's only right you foot the bill."
Everybody laughed as George instantly refused, but he reached for the bill anyway and slotted his black credit card into the sleeve.
After the waitress returned his card, they all stood up to leave. Lando hadn't realized how tired he was until he nearly toppled over getting off his chair.
When they stepped outside, a wave of cool air hit his face. He was grateful to be away from the suffocating seafood scent.
They said their goodbyes, then Lando piled into another Uber with the same group he rode there with. This time, he was tired enough to completely block out the sound of conversation while he leaned his head against the cold window.
He reached his room in a tired daze. He threw his keys and phone on the bed and went straight to the hotel room phone. His stomach was grumbling and now that he was away from the aroma of fish, he was starving.
"Hi, I'd like to order room service," Lando said, peeking at the clock. It was 12 am, but he didn't care. He needed a juicy burger right now.
All he wanted to do was lie in bed with his meal and never move again.
Unfortunately, the man on the other end of the phone told him they were backed up and he would have to go down to the lobby to order and pick up his food. He groaned after hanging up and decided to change into something comfier before going downstairs.
He threw on a new hoodie, just a plain black one, and a pair of dark red plaid pajama pants. The quintessential male pajamas.
After slipping on his slides, he made his way to the elevators and then headed to where the restaurant was in the lobby. He placed his ridiculously large order, then found a seat at the bar and pulled out his phone.
He knew he shouldn't, but his fingers found the link to some predictions for the Grand Prix Final.
nbcsports.com George Russell expected to dominate in Grand Prix Final; Charles Leclerc predicted to take second.
This year's Grand Prix Final is expected to be a stunner.
The lineup is star-studded: Olympic favorite George Russell, Ice Fairy Charles Leclerc, The Flying Dutchman Max Verstappen, Smooth Operator Carlos Sainz, Golden Rookie Oscar Piastri, and Lando Norris are all vying for a spot on the podium. The Grand Prix final is considered the first major step to securing an Olympic position.
George Russell is the star of the show. He has won the Grand Prix Final for three years straight, and is expected to do it again this year. Charles Leclerc also has a prime opportunity to earn his first victory at the Championship Series.
Max Verstappen of course can't be ignored in this conversation. His free program is a piece of technical precision and he has the experience behind him as well; his victories at the Grand Prix Final in 2020 and 2021 haven't been forgotten.
Carlos Sainz is in prime underdog position. His programs are explosive, nothing like the standard figure skating programs, but they are highly entertaining and have great technical value as well.
Oscar Piastri is the rookie who is shocking the figure skating world right now. Despite taking two years off, you would never be able to tell with the way he's currently skating. With a gold medal in his Grand Prix debut, he certainly claimed his spot in the Final with intention.
Lando Norris is returning to the Grand Prix Final for the third year in a row. Will this be the year he finally breaks free of his "second place curse?"
Lando's fingers clenched, leaving indents against his palms. The article completely glossed over him. It was something he should be used to, but the feeling in his chest never went away.
He wanted to prove them wrong so badly. It was all he wanted. His jaw tightened while he slammed his phone down on the bar.
"Hi," a voice cut through his painful thoughts. He whipped his head up, thinking he was hearing things.
"Piastri?" Lando asked. His heart sped up a little more while he took in the sight in front of him. The boy was wearing a navy blue sweatsuit and his hair was slightly damp. He looked tense, but not as much as he did earlier in the day.
Piastri nodded his head towards the seat next to Lando. Disbelief etched across Lando's face, but he pointed in the direction of the seat, silently inviting him to sit. Piastri did.
Lando felt a little bit of relief at that. He almost expected the boy to run away.
Their seats were a little too close to each other, knees almost brushing, but not quite. It was silent for a moment, but it was only slightly awkward.
"What are you doing down here? It's pretty late," Lando asked, filling the quiet.
Piastri gestured towards the air like that was supposed to answer the question. Lando sighed, but didn't push. The other boy seemed exhausted, black marks heavy underneath his eyelids.
Piastri opened his mouth to say something, but it was cut off by Lando's stomach rumbling loudly. His face went red and he put a hand on his belly like that would make it stop.
"I thought you had a dinner tonight?" Piastri asked, a little bit of amusement in his features. He wasn't quite smiling, but a corner of his mouth turned up.
Lando fake gagged, "They wanted seafood."
"Yum."
Lando grimaced, "Not yum. Disgusting."
Piastri showed the most emotion Lando had seen on his face so far. He looked a little insulted. "You don't like seafood? Not even like… popcorn shrimp?" He said with a raised eyebrow.
"If it has been in a body of water, I don't want it," Lando answered vehemently.
Piastri crossed his arms and fell against the back of his seat. "You're strange," he said, but it wasn't sharp like Lando thought it would be.
"You're strange," Lando echoed, resting an arm on the bar and leaning on his chin. The two boys looked at each other. Lando felt like the Australian was cutting through him with unreadable eyes. He felt see-through.
Lando thought about all of the rumors he'd heard over the past few days. The fact that he wasn't sociable, that he was rude, or just a plain asshole. For some reason, while he was sitting down next to him, he didn't see it.
Even though the boy had beat him just a few weeks ago, he couldn't get himself to believe it. He didn't seem like a bad person. If anything, he was just a little closed off, and again, Lando found himself more curious than anything.
His attention was caught by a waiter bringing over his food. His eyes lingered on Piastri for another moment before he forced himself to look at the waiter. He tipped them probably a little bit too much, grabbed his box of food, then pushed off the chair.
He didn't really know what to do. Was he supposed to say bye? Or was he supposed to pretend that they weren't just talking about seafood?
He decided it would be weird if he didn't say anything at all, so he muttered awkwardly, "Bye, then." Piastri offered him a tiny wave.
Lando walked a few steps towards the elevators, but paused. Something in his body was pulling him back towards the boy. "Good luck tomorrow," he added, throwing a smile in Piastri's direction.
The Australian gave him a gentle smile. One that looked real. Small, but real. "You too," he whispered.
That night, Lando forced himself to turn his phone off and leave it on the desk far away from his bed.
He knew if he was going to do well in the short program tomorrow, he couldn’t scroll through social media. The pressure was heavy enough in his chest without seeing hate threads on Twitter.
The odds of Lando getting gold were extremely low, especially at this competition, but if he wanted any shot at the Olympic bid, he had to be on the podium.
Morning came too soon. After a night of fruitless sleep, Lando found himself at the rink getting ready to warm up.
After some stretching, Toto came over to him to talk about his planned jumps. George was in a corner warming up his jumps on land with headphones on. He had always preferred silence before competitions.
The air of the rink was biting at his cheeks, which were already red without ever touching the ice.
“Let’s not get too ambitious today, ok? Your strength is in the free. Just be clean today and you’ll have a solid chance on Saturday.” Toto said, patting him on the arm.
Lando nodded. The announcer came over the intercom to welcome the skaters onto the ice for warmups.
As he stepped onto the rink, the energy of the audience was buzzing. He could feel it settle over him like static.
He was first out on the ice, but a quick glance showed him George and Charles close behind. A few steps behind them, the rest of the skaters followed, with Piastri in the very back.
The boy’s costume was light blue with silver accents. It was plain, but oddly suited him. His hair was perfectly brushed out of his face and his cheeks were dusted in pink. His expression was entirely flat.
Lando forced himself to look away and focus on the ice in front of him. He went into a few single jumps, trying to get a feel for the ice.
His own outfit was new for this specific competition. It was black and tight-fitting with sequins. There were dark feathers that transitioned into a bright red. Previously for his short program, his costume had been a pale orange.
For the Grand Prix Final, they decided to switch it up and make it more him.
His program was to Firebird. It was initially chosen in an attempt to be more artistic, but Lando never quite got a feeling for the music.
He smoothed the feathers on his sleeves before doing a spin.
Changing the costume had been his suggestion. He didn’t have a story before, but with his new costume, he felt like a bird going through a true evolution. Breaking through the past and rising above it.
He liked the sound of it.
After the warm-up was over, he found his way to the bleachers on the side of the rink. He looked at the performance order. Sainz was up first, then Piastri. Then Lando was after him, followed by Max, Charles, and finally, George.
He sat on his hands, shoulders tense as he watched Sainz enter the rink.
Going third wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t the end of the world. The ice wouldn’t be too rough, but it was unfortunate that he was sandwiched between Piastri and Max– one of the favorites to win, and an underdog story everybody was rooting for.
Across the rink, he locked eyes with Piastri.
The Australian was standing next to his coach with a zip-up jacket on. It was zipped all the way to his chin and his face was blank. His arms were stiff at his sides while his coach said something in his ear.
He nodded at whatever he was being told, then pulled his eyes away from Lando’s.
Lando let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. He turned his attention to Sainz, watching his short program begin.
The music was high-energy and fun. Sainz was a performer, for sure. Lando winced at his triple axel, watching the way he underrotated the jump. Lando felt his body moving to the beat of the song unconsciously.
He picked it up after the mistake, and the rest of the skate was clean.
His ending choreography was infectious. His step sequences were really dynamic which made Lando want to get out of his seat and follow along.
He finished his routine by dropping onto his knees and hitting a pose. It was rewarded with a burst of applause from the audience.
It was a great skate, but if Lando was being honest, he didn’t think it was good enough to crack the top three. It didn't have the ultra-c's he would need to truly compete against Charles, Max, and especially George. When Sainz received his score, his suspicions were confirmed.
It was decent, but it wasn't even comparable to George's average short program score.
Lando's gaze followed Piastri stepping onto the ice. His coach gripped his shoulders and said a few words to him, then gave him a beaming smile. Piastri's mouth twitched, but he schooled his expression quickly. When the boy skated out to the middle of the rink, a hand on Lando's arm pulled his attention away.
Toto was standing next to him with a raised eyebrow. "Should you not be warming up right now?" He asked. Lando's eyes went wide and he shot up.
He absolutely should have been warming up. "Shit," he puffed out. Toto rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything else. He just took the jacket off of Lando's arms and held onto it.
Piastri's music came over the speakers, and Lando had to force himself to look away. He had seen the boy's short program before. He wouldn't be missing anything. He needed to focus on his own skate.
He took a deep breath, moving to an empty hallway near the rink. There were a few cameras and he was certain they were going to get a few shots of his warmup for the live feed.
While he ran through some jumps on the floor, he tuned out the noise of the arena around him. He focused on perfecting the landings and trying to make the combos flow as smoothly as possible.
The familiar anxious feeling started to build up in him. The thrum of energy was electric in his fingers and made them tremble.
Piastri's music finally came to an end, and Lando could hear the applause start booming through the building. He rolled his shoulders a few times, side-eyeing a camera next to him while he did it. He made his way over to the rink entrance, walking slowly.
He reached Toto, who didn't offer him any words, just an encouraging expression. While Lando took off his blade guards, he could hear Piastri's score get announced.
He had to stop his jaw from dropping. It was shockingly low. Even lower than Sainz's program, which meant he had to have fallen at least once.
Despite the strange urge he had to look at the jumbotron to see the boy's face, he forced himself to keep his eyes on the ice. The tremble in his fingers hadn't left, and the cold air that blasted against his face when he stepped into the rink did little to soothe it.
He made his way to center rink, embracing the way the audience started cheering for him. One girl screamed his name so loudly that her voice cracked. He placed his arms across his chest, forcing his fingers still, and formed a diamond-shape with his hands. He closed his eyes and turned his head down.
The silence in the moments before a program began was his favorite. The way it washed over him, calming any nerves he might have had.
Just the bite of the cold air and the ice beneath his blades.
His music started and his body began to move. The last time he performed the program, he felt a disconnect from it, but his new costume was encouraging him to get in character.
He typically would've preferred a program like Sainz's, but something about the way the feathers were brushing against his wrist made him excited.
Lando tried to control his facial expression, matching the slow beginning of the song. His program began with some relatively simple footwork, but he tried his best to make it look delicate.
His first jump was coming up, and the familiar anticipation started building in his body. He began with a spread eagle, then transitioned into a triple axel. He flew through the air, reveling in the way his blade kicked off the ice, and landed the jump cleanly.
The audience erupted around him.
Lando barely let himself feel it.
He let the momentum from the jump carry him into a series of quick, exact steps, followed by some twizzles around the rink. As the music picked up, his nerves continued to fade. All he felt now was sheer energy, and he pushed it into the program.
The feathers brushed against his wrists when he lifted an arm above his head. He leaned into the feeling of it.
A hydroblade took him low to the ground, fingers brushing against the cold surface of the ice. The burn in his legs and the crowd's soft awe kept him grounded.
He jumped off the ground and into a flying sit spin. Then, he seamlessly transitioned into a camel spin. He ended it with a donut variation of the spin, forcing himself to turn faster and faster. The feathers on his arms fanned dramatically while he reached for his blade.
He exited the spin and focused on the flow between moves, leaning deep into the edges of his blades.
He needed component, or artistry, points if he was going to win. He kept the sharpness in his fingers, timing a flick of his head perfectly with the rise in the music.
Then, Lando leaped into a quad toe, triple toe combination. His blade hit the ice with a small skid, a little louder than he would've liked, but the landing was still smooth enough.
He entered another step sequence, shorter than the first, before launching into his final jump. A quad lutz.
His landing was much softer this time, and satisfaction warmed his cold bones.
Finally, he entered the last choreography section. He tried his best to stay on time with the music, really feeling it in his body. The crowd clapped along on beat and motivated him forward. The final spin was a combination, and he watched the lights of the rink blur while he sailed through it.
The music began to slow. He let his body slow down, too.
He finished on one knee, head bowed, feathers pooling around him.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then, the arena erupted.
Lando stayed there for a moment, just letting his breath calm. He inhaled deeply, trying to help it ease. When he stood up, the crowd was standing.
He offered his bows to the audience and the judges, who all knew what he knew.
That was his best short program ever. He gave it everything. He wasn't sure he could've done anything else.
He couldn't stop the smile on his face while he exited the rink and entered Toto's arms. His coach patted his back, muttering about his great performance.
Lando grabbed his jacket out of his coaches hands and threw it on. "I mean it," Toto smiled. "That was your best to date."
Lando still hadn't regained his breath, so he just nodded in response. He hoped the grin on his face would let Toto know how he felt about it.
The air seemed warmer off the rink, but Lando was still shivering. Adrenaline, he told himself. Not nerves.
He followed his coach to the kiss-and-cry, rubber blade-guards sinking into the floor uncomfortably until he sat down on the couch in front of a camera.
Toto handed him a tissue as soon as he sat down, and he held it to his nose while he waved hello to the camera.
Lando leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, anxious to hear his score. Toto was still talking next to him, but Lando wasn't really listening. He was sure his coach would repeat it at their debrief later.
He kept his eyes on the screen in front of him. His name appeared first, then it went through a replay of the highlights of his program. He watched every moment with a careful eye, trying to predict what his score might be.
Briefly, he thought about Piastri's score, and wondered if his program was bad, or if the judges were simply just harsh. He felt guilty for wishing it was the former.
He swallowed. The camera cut back to him and he saw himself biting his cheek. He hadn't even realized he was doing that.
The screen flickered to the blank score sheet.
First, the technical score was revealed.
It was... high.
Silence filled the arena in anticipation.
The components score was next.
It was also high. His personal best component score.
The arena exploded. His total score appeared on the screen.
For the first time in his career, he had broken 100 on the short program. His breath got stuck in his throat. Then, a disbelieving laugh ripped itself out of him.
Toto wrapped an arm around his shoulder and shook him. "There it is! That's what we've been waiting for." He sounded more excited than Lando had ever heard him.
Lando brushed a hand through his hair and leaned into Toto for a moment. He was in first. Even if it was just temporary, he was in first, and it was his best skate ever.
His eyes flicked to the bottom of the screen where the rest of the skaters were listed. He took another deep breath. There was a lot of competition left. He could still end up off the podium.
For now, though, he would celebrate.
Grand Prix Final is Off To an Electric Start!
[Attached is an image of George Russell in the middle of a salchow jump, next to an image of Max Verstappen doing an axel.]
This year's Grand Prix Final, which is taking place in Nagoya, Japan, already has sparks flying.
The short programs kicked off with Carlos Sainz. His explosive performance was entertaining to watch. Despite some minor technical errors, it was an enjoyable program and it has certainly kept him in the game for a podium.
Perhaps the most shocking performance came from rookie Oscar Piastri. His short program is typically a clean masterclass of keeping calm on the ice. Unfortunately, for the first time this season, pressure seemed to get to the young skater.
His skate began with an immediate fall on his opening jump. It was followed by a popped salchow. His final jump combo was clean, but it did little to save his lowest score of the season.
Despite the poor performance today, he maintained his composure on and off the ice, and fans expect him to bounce back on Saturday.
Lando Norris also had a surprising performance today- but in an opposite manner to Piastri.
Norris isn't known for his artistic abilities on the ice. Instead, he's known as a technical master with some of the strongest jumps in the sport. This season, it appears he has set out to change that.
With a darker, more dramatic new costume, he set out to prove something, and he certainly did.
His short program was nearly flawless and rewarded him with his highest score in the short program of his career. In fact, he ended the day leading the competition.
The next skater to hit the ice was Max Verstappen. He did exceedingly well up until his final jump, when he bobbled on the landing of his quadruple loop. He managed to save it, but was unable to come out ahead of Norris.
Charles Leclerc put on a beautiful performance. Despite not performing any quadruple jumps, the Ice Fairy's artistic abilities shone clearly throughout the program.
Finally, George Russell closed out the night. His short program was a work of art, and fans around the arena were shocked when his scores came back lower than his teammates, Lando Norris'.
Although they both skated clean, fans argue that Russell's components scores should've been higher.
A dilemma frequently faced in figure skating is the bias in judging. It's hard to contest personal opinion, which is what the component score revolves around.
After the short program, Charles Leclerc is in third, then George Russell, and, perhaps most shockingly, Lando Norris in first.
The free program has a big opportunity to change up the podium. The score margin is not large and there are plenty of chances for skaters to improve.
[Read more... Women's Short Program in Japan]
ESPN SPORT @ESPNSport
Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri & The Grand Prix Final READ MORE: www.espn.com/figureskating
Harry Bronwyn @HarryBronwynFS
replying to @ESPNSport
This is certainly not the way most people expected the final to unfold.
GR63 <3 @grIcePrince63
honestly, i don't even have the words. george has more artistry in his left toe than l*ndo n*rris has in his whole body. completely and totally robbed.
OLYMPIC GOLD GEORGE INCOMING @georrgeeeonice
replying to @grIcePrince63
i agree totally. it's ridiculous. but atleast there's still the free. i have faith in nowins choking.
leanne :) @l4ndowins
im seeing way too much lando hate on my tl... like you guys are so annoying. just admit his short program was amazing. bc it was.
Marquise <3's Oscar @piastriiice
I really hope Oscar isn't too upset by his short :( I'm confident he'll come back stronger for the free!
OSCAR'S NUMBER 1 FAN @oscarpiastristoes
replying to @piastriiice
i'm so confident that l*ndo will choke and oscar will get his podium. like im not even stressed at all. oscar was just trying to give the guy a chance to feel like a winner for once.
Lando was really trying to not let oscarpiastristoes affect how he felt about his skating.
The news articles had been relatively positive, but social media was obviously not happy with how well he did.
His thumb hovered over the reply button. He shook his head, running a hand through his hair, then locked his phone and put it face down on the bed.
Lando exhaled slowly, face smooshed against the pillows, and ignoring the way his fingers itched to open his phone.
The room felt too quiet, and for a moment he considered inviting George over.
Then he thought about the fact that he was currently above George in scores for the first time ever and he didn't feel like hearing the boy's reaction to that.
He rolled onto his side and reached for the room service menu. He didn't even really feel hungry, he just wanted to do something to occupy the silence.
Lando flipped through it, reading options like pizza, burgers, sushi. The last one made him gag.
Everything sounded bland. His stomach twisted anyway. Maybe he was actually hungry.
Suddenly, an intense craving for ramen built up in him. The kind of craving that makes you able to taste it.
He opened the menu again, scanning to see if he had missed it. He hadn't. What kind of hotel in Japan didn't have ramen?
Groaning, he threw the menu on the bed and pushed himself up. He glanced at the time and saw it was only around five PM. They had a team debrief at six thirty, which meant if he hurried, he could go find a ramen place and still make it back on time.
Lando pulled on a hoodie that was laying on the hotel floor, his plain black one, and slipped his phone into the pocket. He grabbed his keys, gave the room one last glance, then headed for the elevators.
Once he reached the lobby, he was surprised by how bright it was. He planned on getting out of there as soon as possible, but that was foiled when he saw him.
Oscar Piastri, standing by the exit of the building.
Lando's heart skipped a beat.
The Australian boy was on the phone with his arms crossed over his chest tightly. He was wearing an oversized grey hoodie and his posture was closed off. He looked exhausted, bags prevalent under his red-rimmed eyes, and if Lando had to guess, he had been crying just a few moments ago.
His hair was still damp and didn't really look brushed.
A pang shot through Lando's chest, and for some reason, he wanted to do something about it.
He walked over to the boy, steps soft and slow, trying to give him ample warning.
When he was just a few feet away, Piastri finally noticed him. His mouth fell open for a moment, and his eyes fell to the floor. He said something on the phone, then ended the call abruptly.
Lando bit his lip. He hadn't meant to make him panic like that. Once he finally reached Piastri, awkwardness surrounded them.
"Hi," Lando said, after a beat. His voice cracked a little and he winced.
"Hey," Piastri replied, quiet. Calm.
A pause hung between them.
Now that he was closer, Lando could really see the exhaustion on the other boy's face. A knot formed in his stomach. He had been planning on grabbing some food and coming back as quickly as possible, but...
"Have you eaten?" He found himself asking. Piastri's eyebrows raised and his expression turned wary. Lando shuffled his feet, waiting for an answer.
Finally, Piastri shook his head.
Wow. A man of many words.
Lando huffed in slight annoyance. Whatever. He decided he was going to be nice, he needed to follow through. "Do you want to go get ramen?" He asked.
The Australian's head tilted in surprise. "I'm surprised ramen suits your palette, honestly," Piastri said, voice soft.
Lando flinched back, jaw dropping in mock offense. "Wow. You think I don't like noodles?" Piastri shrugged, then let out a small laugh.
Butterflies fluttered in Lando's stomach for a moment.
He slapped a hand over it. Absolutely not. Not happening.
"Well?" He asked. "Is that a yes or a no, then?"
The boy hesitated, looking towards the elevators like he was considering his escape. Then, he gave a small shrug. “Yeah, okay. Why not?”
Lando couldn’t stop the grin from forming. “Great! Let’s go!” He headed out the door, but paused in between the frame. “I don’t know any ramen places.”
Piastri rolled his eyes, then walked off in a random direction. The cold evening air hit Lando’s face as he followed, trusting that the Australian had a vague sense of where they were going.
He absolutely did not. Ten minutes later, they were on a random street with no ramen place to be found.
“I thought you knew where you were going,” Lando muttered, breaking the comfortable silence that had filled the walk.
Piastri’s face flushed, and he brushed a hand through his hair. “Well. I thought there would be ramen places everywhere in Japan.”
Lando laughed, shaking his head slightly. “I’ll just look something up,” he said, pulling out his phone.
He found a place with good reviews just a few blocks away and started heading towards it.
When the ramen shop came into view, he walked faster. There was fog on the windows from the heat inside. He was definitely not dressed for the weather with just his hoodie and sweatpants.
He held the door open for Piastri, then followed him to a table near a window. “This looks nice,” Lando said, glancing around the restaurant.
Piastri sat across from him in the dark red seats. The lighting was dark but not enough to be annoying. Most importantly, the building smelled delicious. Nothing at all like the seafood restaurant from the night before.
A waiter came over and dropped off some laminated menus and took their drink orders. They both got water, then started glancing over the menu.
Lando was staring at it like it was written in a different language.
Probably because it was.
That didn’t seem to be a problem for Piastri, though. Unless he was just faking it.
Piastri looked at him over the menu with a raised eyebrow. He quirked a corner of his lip, amused. “You don’t read Japanese, I take it?”
Lando shot him a look. “You say that like I should be expected to. Of course I don’t read Japanese!”
Piastri’s mouth twitched. He started reading out the options to Lando, pointing out things he thought he might be interested in. “Tonkotsu is a good choice. It’s popular.”
“I’ve had ramen before, you know.” Lando huffed, putting his menu on the table. No point in holding it anyways.
Piastri hummed, not taking the bait. He turned his menu around and pointed at an option. “This one’s spicy. I think you’d like it.”
Lando looked at the picture next to it and shrugged. “Okay, sure. As long as there’s no-”
“There’s no fish in it, man.” Piastri cut him off. “Obviously.”
Lando let out a small laugh. When the waiter came back, Piastri ordered Lando's food for him in Japanese. His Australian accent sounded a little softer in the foreign language.
After their waiter left, the table fell into silence again. It wasn't uncomfortable, though.
Lando reached for his drink and took a small sip, mostly just to give himself something to do. He met Piastri's eyes. The exhaustion on his face was even more evident in the dim lighting of the restaurant.
"How are you feeling about today?" Lando asked before he could stop himself.
The other boy looked surprised at the question. He found his straw wrapper and he crinkled it between his fingers.
For a moment, he didn’t answer. The paper in his hands was making a grating noise.
Lando regretted asking. He desperately tried to come up with a topic change, but his eyes were stuck on Piastri’s face and he couldn’t come up with anything.
Piastri bit his lip and kept his eyes firmly on the wrapper. “Fine,” he said after an eternity.
Lando raised an eyebrow. “Fine?” He repeated, voice soft.
The wrapper fell onto the table. Piastri leaned back into his seat. After another pause, he sighed. “Did you see it?”
“No.” Lando said honestly, even though it felt like the wrong answer. Piastri hummed, running his fingers along the edge of the table.
“Well, it wasn’t good.” His expression darkened, and Lando felt like he was seeing a new side of the boy.
Oscar Piastri was known for keeping his calm, never showing what he was truly feeling. Right now, though, Lando could see something clear on his face.
Piastri was biting the side of his cheek and his eyebrows were slightly furrowed. He was clearly upset about what had happened during his short program.
Lando took another sip of his drink. He held the cold glass in his hands.
He wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t have soft words of comfort or a motivational speech. He hardly knew the guy… but. A thrum of guilt was pulsing through him gently, making him want to help Piastri.
Losing. Not doing as well as you wanted to. Lando had a lot of experience with that. He would surely be able to come up with some advice.
“There’s always the free program,” he said finally.
Piastri shook his head and huffed something under his breath. His fingers went back to the straw wrapper.
Lando couldn’t make out what he said, but suddenly, the distance between them felt a bit larger.
It was quiet again while they waited for their food. When it arrived, Piastri thanked the server and took a small bite from his food.
Lando cleared his throat and said, “So, Japanese?”
Piastri blinked, caught off guard by the sudden topic change. “Uh, yeah. I guess,” he said, glancing down at his bowl. “Just a bit.”
Lando nodded quickly. “Right. That’s cool. Very useful.” He mentally smacked himself. He was terrible at this.
Luckily for him, the other boy actually looked amused, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards while he took a bite of his food. Then, he turned his chopsticks slowly in between his fingers.
“I just…” He began, but stopped. Lando looked at him, trying to find eye contact with the boy who was staring intently at the condensation building on his drink in front of him.
Piastri exhaled slowly, like he was debating continuing. His shoulders tensed, then dropped. “I haven’t skated that badly since I came back. I guess I forgot how it felt.”
There was no frustration in his voice. Only quiet resignation. Lando didn’t interrupt; instead, he put down his own chopsticks and urged the boy to continue.
He was a little surprised when he actually did.
Piastri bit his lip, then said, “I don’t think I’ve ever done that bad in a competition. Not even in juniors.” His grip on his chopsticks tightened and Lando’s eyes followed the movement.
“I guess it just makes me wonder if I made the right choice.” Piastri finished.
Lando shuffled in his seat, tilting his head. “Right choice?” He asked.
The other boy nodded, moving to spin his chopsticks through the ramen in his bowl.
“In coming back to skating, you mean?” Lando asked again. His eyes were squinted and he leaned forward in his seat slightly. Piastri nodded again, eyes slightly unfocused but face otherwise neutral.
Lando looked down at his own bowl while he tried to think of what to say. He still didn’t know much about the guy. He had heard so many rumors about all of the terrible things he did, but sitting in front of him now, it just didn’t add up.
He wasn’t sure why he quit skating to begin with, which made it harder. He had his suspicions, of course, but he couldn’t just bring that up now.
After a moment, he answered. “I’m not sure why you left, and you don’t have to tell me,” Lando began, “But I think you obviously had an impressive comeback. One bad skate doesn’t take away from that. Hell, look at Twitter. They love you.”
He tried to keep the words from sounding bitter, but a bit of bite slipped through at the end. He continued anyway, “In my opinion, the only way you could’ve possibly made the wrong choice is if you’re not enjoying skating.”
The other boy ran his tongue over his lips. Lando pointedly did not follow that motion. Then, Piastri hummed with a small smile and nodded gently.
Later, after they paid the bill and braced the cold to walk back to the hotel, Piastri said something that surprised Lando.
“Thank you for inviting me,” he said, voice soft. Lando looked at him with wide eyes while he made his way into the blindingly bright hotel lobby.
“You’re not so bad, Piastri.” Lando answered with a grin.
Piastri let out a small huff of a laugh. Lando started walking in the direction of the hotel conference room where his team debrief (that he was decidedly late for) was. Before Piastri could go to the elevator, the Australian paused to look at him.
Then, hesitantly, he said, “Call me Oscar.”
Lando’s heart skipped a beat. He tried to stop the admittedly embarrassing smile from forming. “Alright,” he said, voice cracking a little, “Then I’ll see you later, Oscar.”
When the Australian turned towards the elevator, Lando forced himself not to watch. He had a team meeting to go to; one where he would definitely be yelled at if his watch had anything to say about it.
When he walked into the conference room, Toto met his gaze with a glare. “Fifteen minutes late, Lando? Really?”
Lando shrugged, finding the open seat next to George.
Toto rolled his eyes, “Not even gonna give me an excuse?” His hands started flipping through the notebook he was holding.
“Why would I bother? You’re not gonna like it either way,” Lando said with a playful lilt. His coach huffed, then turned his attention completely to the notebook in front of him.
Lando leaned towards George’s ear. “Did I miss anything?” He whispered. George looked at him suspiciously, then slowly shook his head.
While Toto started droning on about consistency and edge calls, Lando’s thoughts started living elsewhere.
He still wasn’t sure about Oscar Piastri. So he had one nice interaction with the guy. It didn’t mean much compared to the dozens of horrible things he’d heard about him.
He thought of the boy's soft smile and quiet laugh.
Lando exhaled slowly, shoulders relaxing into the seat.
He forced himself to think about skating a clean program. About taking a podium at the Grand Prix Final– about maybe, just maybe, pulling off an upset win.