Chapter Text
The sharp click of the front door latching shut sounded like a gunshot in the silent flat. Oscar didn’t move. He stood rooted to the exact spot on the hardwood floor, his eyes fixed on the closed door. For a long, terrifying moment, his brain refused to register the quiet. Part of him—the stupid, hopeful part—expected the door to fly open again. Expected Lando to burst back in, breath hitching, to yell at him for making things awkward, or maybe to make some terrible, nervous joke to smooth it all over.
Minutes stretched into a heavy, agonizing eternity. The front door remained firmly shut. Outside, the faint rumble of a high-end sports engine roared to life in the subterranean garage, vibrating faintly through the floorboards before fading away into the London night. Lando was gone. A long, trembling breath escaped Oscar’s throat, puffing into the chilly room. His knees felt suddenly weak, the adrenaline draining from his veins and leaving behind a cold, hollow ache that settled deep into his bones.
He didn't cry. He wasn't the type to collapse onto the floor or tear up his room. Instead, Oscar just felt completely, thoroughly drained.
He slowly turned away from the door and looked back at the living room. It was a mess of small memories. The coffee table still held two empty glasses from yesterday. The PlayStation controller's blue light was still pulsing, waiting for a player who had bolted into the dark without his shoes. Oscar walked over, his socked feet making no sound against the floor. He knelt down, his fingers brushing the soft fabric of the blanket. It was still faintly warm. It carried the faint, familiar scent of Lando’s expensive cologne—something warm and spicy mixed with the fresh laundry detergent they shared.
Oscar's throat tightened. He closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, letting the reality of what had just happened wash over him. He had spent months—maybe years—safely hiding behind the quiet comfort of their friendship. He had convinced himself that keeping his mouth shut was the smart thing to do, that watching Lando live his fast, chaotic life was enough. But tonight, cornered by Matt’s quiet observation and Lando’s suffocating jealousy, the truth had finally spilled out. And now, the safe world they had built together was fractured beyond repair.
“You’re ruining everything.” Lando’s terrified, desperate voice echoed in the silence of the room. Oscar swallowed hard, forcing his mind to quiet down. He began to fold the blanket. He did it neatly, smoothing out every wrinkle with deliberate, methodical care. He aligned the corners, folded it into a tight square, and set it on the arm of the couch. He picked up the PlayStation controller and held down the power button until the blue light vanished, plunging the room into absolute, total darkness.
He walked to his bedroom, leaving his door slightly ajar just out of habit—a habit he realized, with a sharp pang in his chest, he probably wouldn't need anymore. Oscar kicked off his jeans, pulled on a worn t-shirt, and climbed into bed. The sheets were cold. He pulled the covers up to his chin and stared up at the shadowy ceiling, listening to the quiet hum of the refrigerator down the hall. He reached over to his nightstand, grabbed his phone, and set it face down without checking the screen. He knew there wouldn't be any texts. No updates about spiders. No needy spam.
Closing his eyes, Oscar rolled onto his side, curling into the quiet dark of his room, and wondered how you were supposed to sleep when you're this miserable.
──── ୨୧ ────
Over the next couple of days, Oscar tried everything to reach him. He sent quiet, low-pressure texts at first, just asking if Lando was okay. When those sat delivered with no response, he tried calling, only for the line to ring once before dropping straight to voicemail. By the third day, the messages stopped even delivering altogether—no gray checkmarks, no notification, nothing.
He stared at his screen in disbelief. Lando had blocked him. He couldn't believe it. After years of constant chatter, late-night gaming, and endless banter, Lando had erased his presence at the press of a button. “Damn it, I'm an idiot,” he said out loud to the empty room, dragging a hand down his face. “I'm a fucking idiot.”
The throbbing ache in his temples was unbearable, but the pit in his stomach felt infinitely heavier. Oscar stood frozen in the middle of the flat, surrounded by a silence that had never felt this cold.He looked down at his phone screen one last time. Nothing. No texts, no calls, not a single sign that Lando had any intention of undoing the block. He had gone from the person Oscar shared every single minute of his day with to an unreachable stranger.
Sitting down on the edge of the sofa—the exact same sofa where, just a few nights ago, Lando had been hiding under a mound of blankets—Oscar scrolled to a contact he rarely called at this hour due to the time difference. He hit the dial. The tone rang three times before his mother’s warm, familiar voice broke through the thousands of miles from Melbourne.
“Oscar? Hi, honey. It’s so late over there, is everything okay?” Hearing the instant concern in her voice made the carefully constructed shield of composure Oscar had maintained over the last few days completely crumble. He swallowed hard, pinching the bridge of his nose as he fought to keep his voice from breaking.
“Hey, Mum...” He paused, taking a heavy, shuddering breath. “No. Honestly, not really.”
“Oscar, you’re scaring me. What happened? Are you sick??”
“No, no, it’s not that,” he interrupted softly, letting out a long sigh of pure exhaustion. “It’s just... I need a break, Mum. From uni, from this place... from everything.”
There was a short, knowing pause on the other end of the line. She knew her son far too well to mistake the sound of a tired boy for the sound of a heartbroken one. “Is this about Lando?” she asked gently, her tone dripping with quiet empathy. Hearing that name felt like a physical strike to the chest. Oscar closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the sofa cushions.
“I ruined everything, Mum. I told him... I told him how I felt, and it completely blew up in my face. He blocked me. He hates me.”
His mother let out a soft breath, giving him the space to breathe through the silence. “Sweetheart...”
“I’m booking a flight for next week,” Oscar said, making the decision out loud for the very first time. “I’m coming back to Australia for a bit. I just need to get out of here.”
“Okay, baby... see you soon. Love you.”
“Love you too, Mum.” The heavy silence settled around him as he hung up the phone, the decision echoing through the hollow room of the flat. He needed this. He needed space, and more than anything, he needed to get over Lando as soon as humanly possible.