Chapter Text
The apartment was incredibly quiet. Oscar hated it. Bernard lifted his head from Oscar’s lap at the sound of the kettle whistling. The giant dog blinked at him lazily before following him into the kitchen, while Oscar made himself a cup of hot chocolate.
“You’re spoiled,” Oscar muttered, scratching behind his ears after tossing him a treat.
Bernard only wagged his tail against the kitchen cupboard, the sound echoing, another reminder that the apartment felt empty. Oscar looked around helplessly, shoulders dropping further.
He hadn’t moved a thing, blankets, plants, lights, well, he did get rid of the lemons, but only because Bernard ate one and threw up on Logan’s shoes.
He couldn’t bring himself to move anything.
If only Oscar could stop seeing him everywhere else, too. Every stupid thing reminded him of him.
Passing a camera store. Pasta. Fish, unfortunately. F1. Laughing.
Oscar rubbed a hand over his face. It had been three days since the fight.
Three days since Lando looked at him like Oscar had physically ripped something out of his chest. Oscar swallowed hard, nearly choking on the thoughts runnning through his head.
Bernard nudged him again.
“Don’t,” Oscar told the dog quietly. “I’m already having a terrible time.”
> > > > > > > > > > > > > > >
The poker game had lasted maybe twenty minutes before Logan finally snapped.
“You’re miserable.”
Oscar didn’t look up from his cards. “I’m winning.”
“Are you?” Charles asked.
Oscar ignored him, sliding his chips forward, calling the bet.
Alex chimed in from across the table. “Come on, Osc, it’s poker night, no moping about.”
Oscar’s back went rigid at the nickname. Charles tried to nonchalantly nudge Alex to let him know he was an idiot. Alex, still unaware of what he did, only shrugged his shoulders.
“I am not moping,” Oscar answered, “I am just tired, long day.”
No one at the table believed him, but they weren’t going to sit otherwise. Pushing Oscar now was most definitely a bad idea.
Charles sighed softly. “Let’s just continue playing poker, another beer, Oscar, Logan?”
“Hey, what about me?” Alex whined about being left out.
“No more alcohol for you, Alex, you’re beginning to speak without thinking.” Charles chastised, leaving no room for argument.
Oscar folded aggressively. “Yeah, I’ll take another.”
The apartment door opened before anyone could respond.
Max stepped inside, Kimi in tow, holding takeout.
“Why is the mood in here horrific?” Max having no filter…
“No reason,” Logan said immediately. “Oscar’s just pretending he’s not in moping.”
Oscar dropped his head against the table.
“I’m going to kill all of you.”
Max paused mid-step. “…Wait, you and Lando still aren’t talking?”
Oscar’s stomach twisted immediately at hearing Lando’s name, at the prospect of having this conversation.
“No.”
Kimi frowned. “That’s stupid.”
“Thank you, Kimi,” Oscar deadpanned.
“No, genuinely.” Kimi set the food he was carrying down. “Especially because of the exhibition.”
Oscar looked up slowly, turning his whole body towards Kimi. “…The what?”
Logan sat forward immediately. “What exhibition?”
Kimi looked around the table, realizing he probably should not have said anything.
“It’s not a secret exactly, Ollie just told me about it.”
Oscar’s chest tightened.
“Kimi.”
Kimi exhaled. “Lando got approved for a gallery exhibition.”
The room went quiet. Oscar stared at him.
“A what?”
“A photography exhibition,” Kimi repeated carefully. “He quit his studio job after he got the message that he was in… the day you guys got into a fight.”
“When were you going to tell me this? Why didn’t he tell me?” Oscar asked quietly, already knowing the answer to his second question.
Kimi looked horrified. “I thought you knew, I mean, I figured he told you, ya know.”
“Right, Kimi, thank you for the info…” Max cut in, trying to redirect the conversation.
“When is it?” Oscar interrupted.
Kimi hesitated, “…Tonight.”
“What?” Oscar exclaimed.
Kimi winced. “Max told me not to mention it because apparently he thought Oscar would either spiral or show up and cause a scene.”
“I would not cause a scene.”
“You absolutely would,” Max muttered.
Oscar stood abruptly.
“Where is it?”
“See a scene,” Max muttered more to himself, but of course Charles overheard, coming to his brows to try and ease out the tension this interaction was causing.
Kimi pulled his phone out quickly. Oscar frowned as Kimi shoved the screen toward him. An Instagram post from the gallery venue. Black background. White lettering.
Lando Norris — “Ten Days”
Oscar's breath caught in his throat, and he began swiping through the photos.
Photo one: Logan chasing after Bernard, the poker chips visible in Bernard’s mouth. Oscar’s lips curved up at the memory.
Photo two: His friends Max and Ollie immersed into an arcade game.
Photo three: Oscar at Silverstone. Not posed. Not looking at the camera. Completely focused on the race going on in front of me, the sunlight catching his face, an almost childlike excitement shone in his eyes. When had Lando taken that?
Oscar stared at it.
He didn’t remember that moment.
The caption underneath the post read: ‘An exploration of life in motion, intimacy, and the quiet ways people love when they believe no one is looking.’
Oscar’s throat tightened.
“Oh,” Logan said softly beside him.
Oscar was only just realizing everyone was huddled around him, also looking at the post.
Suddenly, it was obvious.
“…He was taking pictures,” Oscar said quietly.
Kimi nodded once.
“Ollie said he’s been working on it for months, and finally felt he had good enough photos to submit.”
Oscar stared at the photo of himself again. At the softness of it, the way Lando saw him.
Oscar swallowed the lump forming in his throat.
“I’m going.”
No one answered because there wasn’t anything to say.
Max spoke from the doorway.
“Yes,” Max said simply. “Now go get your man.”
> > > > > > > > > > > > > > >
Oscar nearly turned around twice before going inside.
The gallery was slightly crowded, full enough that voices blurred together beneath soft music and clinking glasses. The walls were lined with huge photographs.
Friends.
Strangers.
Real moments.
Nothing posed or performed.
What Lando had always wanted.
Oscar moved slowly through the room.
He recognized people. Places. Pieces of Lando’s life captured exactly how he had talked about wanting to photograph things: real and candid.
Then Oscar turned the corner.
And stopped completely, almost putting himself off balance.
An entire wall. Just him.
There was one from poker night where Oscar was clearly mid-argument with Logan, hands moving while everyone else laughed around him.
Another sitting at his desk, tired eyes lit by monitors, Bernard asleep at his feet.
Another of him in the grocery store holding pasta sauce while looking at Lando, he knew he was looking at Lando.
Oscar stepped closer to one near the center.
Him standing in the kitchen.
Looking over his shoulder, smiling softly.
The plaque beneath it read:
home
Something in Oscar’s chest cracked wide open.
“You came.”
Lando’s voice came in quietly behind him.
Oscar turned slowly.
There he was, hands shoved into the pockets of a black button-up. Hair slightly messy. Eyes tired. Lando looked nervous.
Oscar had never seen that before. Neither of them spoke for a second. Then Oscar looked back at the wall. At himself. At the way Lando had captured him.
“These photos… they, they are amazing,” Oscar, not really sure where else to start.
“Thank you, Oscar, that means a lot,” Lando replied sheepishly, hand going to the back of his neck. Oscar’s eyes followed it, watched his curls bounce, watched Lando’s eyes drop as his nerves took over.
“…This is how you feel?” he asked quietly, unable to do the small talk.
Lando’s expression faltered instantly.
“…Yeah,” he admitted softly.
Oscar looked back at the photographs.
“You captured me well, I don’t look like the ice boy everyone likes to call me.”
Lando blinked, unsure of the shift in the conversation. “More heart-eyed than ice boy, there’s so much emotion hidden in your eyes.” Lando chose to be open and honest; he figured both he and Oscar deserved as much.
“You labeled them.”
“Yes, of course, the uh gallery required me to give them names.”
Oscar laughed once under his breath.
“I like this one, the joker and the king, who is who in this situation.” Oscar gestured to the photo of him and Logan arguing over how to play poker properly; he was sure.
“Logan is clearly the joker.” Lando chuckled, grateful to Oscar for giving a reprieve from where they both knew the conversation was going.
Oscar turned toward him fully now.
“Lando.”
Lando braced for impact, like Oscar might still walk away, might be upset about the photos.
Oscar watched him; this was new territory for them both. Both of them were entering uncharted waters, full of how unsure the other one really felt now, after everything.
“I was so angry at you,” Oscar admitted quietly, the first step.
Lando nodded once. “I know.”
“And I think I wanted you to be the villain because it made things easier.”
Lando looked down, shifting back and forth on his feet, hands crossed behind his back.
“But you weren’t.” Oscar continued. People moved around them quietly, but the rest of the gallery suddenly felt very far away.
Oscar exhaled shakily, “I took a bet too. I was okay with using you to win against Max for once, should’ve known he was steps ahead of me.”
Lando looked up as Oscar let out a breathy chuckle.
“I kept acting like that didn’t matter because somewhere along the line my feelings…,” Oscar stopped mid-sentence, changing his words, wanting Lando to understand. “You became real.”
“Oscar—”
“No, let me say this properly because I’ve rehearsed it like six times.”
Lando’s mouth twitched slightly.
Oscar stepped closer. “I made you feel shit for something I also did, which makes me a massive asshole, and I don’t even think an apology is enough,” he said quietly. “But I am sorry.”
Lando stared at him, still not saying anything, sensing Oscar had more to say.
“I know you didn’t mean for this to happen. I know I didn’t.”
Lando laughed once, small and forgiving, before interrupting his speech (always impatient).
“That’s the worst part.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I tried so hard to make you hate me.”
“What? Hate you? Why?”
“My bet with Max was that I couldn’t not have someone fall for me.” Oscar still looked confused, so Lando continued, “Ollie went through another horrible breakup, which was most obviously his fault. Max and I teased him about it, and Max got the lovely idea to show Ollie that if anyone acted as he did, they would be single, which is where I came in… and then you.”
“Oh, uhm, that is quite different than mine. My friends were just giving me shit about not getting out more..”
Lando snorted softly, the tension suddenly cracking slightly.
Oscar looked around the gallery again.
“You quit your job.”
“This is my dream.”
“I know.”
Lando glanced around the room, a smile stretching across his face, unable to help himself. “If I am being honest, it still feels fake. If someone pinched me, I’d wake up, and it’d be over.”
Oscar looked at him carefully and pinched him.
“Oscarrrrr, that hurt.”
“Have you woken up?” Oscar teased.
Lando blinked, his smile returning to his face. The two men stared at each other, smiling. Eyes mirroring an emotion they both still weren’t ready to name. Time seemed to be infinite in this moment.
God.
Oscar missed him. The realization hit so hard it nearly knocked the breath out of him.
He and Lando began to speak at the same time. The energy becoming charged, with words left unsaid.
“You first.” Oscar conceded.
Lando took a breath“…I hated not talking to you.”
Oscar nodded immediately. “Yeah. Me too.”
Lando looked at the photo in front of them, the one of Oscar in the kitchen, home.
“I didn’t know how to stop,” he admitted. “The bet. At first it was funny, and then suddenly you were making me dinner and letting Bernard sleep in your bed and just how you were with him…” He shook his head.
“I thought you were testing me at Silverstone,” Oscar confessed suddenly.
Lando frowned. “…What?”
“When you kept sending me for food.”
Lando stared at him.
“Oscar.”
“I thought it was like some sort of first date right of passage.”
“I was hungry, and it was a bit of me trying ot br annoying…” Lando trailed off.
“I know that now.”
Lando laughed helplessly. “We are quite a mess.”
Oscar groaned, covering his face briefly while Lando continued laughing.
“You called me Oscy Woscy in public.”
“That was so embarrassing, the worst nickname I have ever come up with.”
Oscar continued to tease him. “I thought it was quite cute.”
“Oscy Woscy,” Lando repeated the garish sentiment.
“No, you are right, it is quite horrible.”
They both have a laugh at the nickname, not looking at each other nor really looking at the photos in front of them.
Their shoulders were almost brushing now, close enough that Oscar could feel the warmth of Lando’s skin. Smell his cologne. When had they gotten so close?
“I’m really sorry,” Lando said quietly, interrupting Oscar’s thoughts.
“I know, me too,” Oscar whispered.
Lando looked at him carefully.
“You should hate me.”
Oscar shook his head before he could stop himself.
“I tried.”
“Yeah?”
“You made it very difficult.” Oscar lightheartedly teased, now knowing it was Lando’s goal all along.
Lando laughed, his grin stretching so wide and bright across his face that Oscar could not stop the words from coming out of his mouth.
“I love you.”
Lando froze completely.
Oscar wanted the floor to open and consume him.
Lando still wasn’t moving or speaking, only his unreadable expression staring back at Oscar.
No, not unreadable, his eyes, staring at him with something unbearably soft.
“You love me?” he asked quietly, mouth barely moving. If Oscar weren’t watching him so carefully, he would’ve missed it.
Oscar only nodded at first before saying, “Yes.”
Lando let out a startled laugh. Then suddenly grabbed Oscar’s face and kissed him.
Hard. Relieved. A little desperate.
Oscar kissed him back instantly, as easily as breathing.
There in the gallery, the noise disappeared.
When they pulled apart, both of them breathing unevenly, Lando rested his forehead against Oscar’s.
“I love you too,” he admitted softly.
Oscar smiled helplessly.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I got that from all the photographs.”
Lando grinned slightly, “Oh shut it, you muppet.” Then sealed his silence with a kiss.
“By the way, there are about 81 more photos of you on my SD card.”
“…What?”
“I narrowed it down.”
“Lando.”
“You’re very photogenic.”
“That is still… over only ten days.”
Lando laughed against his mouth, “That’s not including the ones I deleted, or the hundreds more I will take.”
Oscar only smiled into another kiss.