Chapter Text
chapter four - always had a vision of us standing like this
Over the next month, Oscar grappled with his feelings and pushed them down like a too-full suitcase, zipping them into the smallest part of his heart. He didn’t want to think about it: if he did, he might explode from nerves. Oscar knew Lando would never, ever, ever feel the same way, so there was absolutely no point in obsessing over it anyways.
November quickly approached, and so did Lando’s birthday. The thirteenth of November wasn’t a school day, so Oscar hadn’t seen Lando yet, but Lando had invited him and a few other friends over to his place for his birthday.
So Oscar nervously stood in front of Lando’s front door (he did everything full of nerves these days), holding his gift for Lando. He’d carefully chosen a few things for Lando to celebrate his best friend’s eighteenth: new headphones because Lando had lost his last pair and an assortment of Kinder chocolates, all wrapped up in a bright green box—Lando’s favorite color.
“Oscar! Thanks for coming!” Lando said cheerily, opening the door.
Handing over the gift, Oscar replied, “Happy birthday. This is for you.” He watched as Lando took off the top of the box, his eyes lighting up like a kid in a candy store. Oscar loved that look on his face.
“Thank you so much!” Lando exclaimed.
“How did you know I lost my headphones? And the Kinders—thanks so much, Osc.” Lando quickly wrapped Oscar in a hug, which Oscar stiffened at before trying to relax.
“Well, um,” Oscar mumbled, clearing his throat, “You kept complaining that you didn’t have your headphones anymore. You know.”
“I don’t know, but sure! Come on.” Lando gestured for Oscar to come inside. Oscar followed, closing the door behind him. He was met with the faces of Max, Charles, Carlos, Daniel, and Pierre; each person giving him a friendly wave.
Oscar plopped down next to Charles, who gave him a strange look—he’d been the one to notice Oscar’s subtle changes ever since their conversation as he did now: his eyes flicking down to Oscar’s sweaty hands.
Bumping Oscar, Charles whispered, “What’s up with you?”
“Nothing,” Oscar replied tersely.
Charles furrowed his eyebrows as everyone directed their attention back to Lando, who had a giddy smile on his face and was bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“Ladies and gents,” Lando started. “For my birthday—”
“It’s just gents,” Daniel pointed out.
Lando gave Daniel a side eye before continuing.
“Gents, we’re going to the club.”
The group immediately celebrated, other than Oscar. He was the youngest of the group and hadn’t turned eighteen yet—firstly, how was he going to get in, and secondly, he was not a fan of clubs. Too loud, too sweaty, and too overwhelming.
Pierre, the ever observant one, quickly picked up on Oscar’s discomfort, and speaking up, asked, “Oscar, you aren’t eighteen yet, right?”
“Um. No, I don’t,” Oscar mumbled. “It’s okay, you can go without me—”
Lando cleared his throat. “Actually, I already covered that. Never fear!” Lando slung his arm around Oscar with a large grin. “Off we go!”
Oscar’s heart sunk, because he knew that this was a terrible, terrible idea.
── .𖥔 ݁ ˖
It was a short walk to the club—everyone either lived close enough or was going to hop a rideshare on the way out.
Lando seemed quite unbothered by Oscar being underage. Oscar, however, spent most of the time stressing about what Lando’s “plan” was to get him into the club, how close Lando was walking to him, and what sort of perfume Lando was wearing.
After a few minutes of walking and conversing (with Carlos almost pushing Daniel into the street and Pierre giggling), the group of partygoers made it to the club.
With a flourish, Lando allowed Pierre, Max, and Charles to go ahead of him, sticking close by to Oscar.
Oscar’s heart raced from nerves. Turning to Lando, he muttered, “I don’t think this is a good—”
“Do you trust me?” Lando interrupted, grabbing Oscar’s arm.
Oscar stared into Lando’s eyes—those green eyes that he couldn’t resist, the ones that made him fold. This is so stupid. “…Yes.”
“Okay, just follow my lead. Do you have your license?”
Oscar pulled his driver’s license out of his pocket in response, and Lando nodded.
They’d made it to the front of the line to get in, and the bouncer stared at them soullessly. What a mundane job, Oscar thought. He felt pretty sorry for him—staring at IDs all night and dealing with drunken teenagers sounded like the worst thing ever.
Lando tugged Oscar along with him, gesturing for his best friend to show the license. Feigning drunkenness, Lando said to Oscar (for the bouncer’s benefit), “C’mon, mate, hurry up!”
The bouncer squinted at Oscar’s birthdate, trying to read it better in the dark, when Lando knocked into Oscar and made him drop his license. Picking it up, Lando let out a loud giggle and exclaimed “I’m so sorry!” before flashing his own ID and pulling Oscar into the club before the bouncer could protest.
“I have no idea how that worked,” Lando yelled to Oscar over the suddenly apparent sound of pulsing music. “I was fully prepared for both of us to be kicked out.”
“Me too,” replied Oscar as he was whisked into the chaos of the club.
It was loud. And crowded. And dark. Easily Oscar’s three least favorite things in the whole world. But then he glanced over at Lando, who was looking back at him with a big smile, and everything was fine. He’d stay here until dawn if Lando was there too.
The duo quickly headed over to the rest of the group, Carlos already ordering a drink—unsurprisingly, as he was known as the party animal.
“Hey, you made it!” Pierre congratulated, clapping Oscar on the back. “We thought you’d never make it in.”
“Surprisingly, I did.”
“Let’s grab a booth,” grumbled Max. “It’s so loud. Can’t stand it.”
Charles let out a chuckle, guiding him over to a booth to fit all of them—but everyone else knew they’d already disappeared into their own little world, occupied only by the thought of each other.
The group dispersed a little bit: Pierre toward a few friends he knew from outside of school and was greeted with hollers, Carlos meandering into a group of girls with a charming smirk, and Daniel to the booth with Charles and Max—probably to go bother the latter and amuse the former.
“Come on, let’s get a drink,” Lando said after a few silent seconds full of watching the friends go do their own thing. He led Oscar to the bar, ordering something that Oscar had never heard of and then looking back at Oscar before ordering something else that he couldn’t make out.
After the bartender prepared the two drinks, Lando slid one over to Oscar, raising his eyebrows. “What?”
“Nothing,” Oscar said before downing the drink. I’m not surviving tonight without a drink or two. Probably.
Lando took a sip of his own drink, a bright green liquid that looked radioactive. “I’m gonna go see what’s up with Carlos,” he said, nodding over at their Spanish friend, who was currently obviously flirting with one of the girls he’d sidled up to.
“Okay. I’ll…check on Charles and Max.”
Oscar’s eyes trailed Lando as he wandered over to the group of girls, drink in hand and a mischievous smile on his face. Oscar’s heart hurt watching, so he walked back over to the booth where Max and Charles were in deep conversation.
Looking up from his gin and tonic and tearing his attention away from Charles, Max huffed. “Not a club guy, are you, Oscar?”
“Not really, I guess,” Oscar admitted. “Do you guys mind if I sit? It’s okay if not—”
“No, no, no! Join us,” interjected Charles cheerily, patting the seat next to him in a welcoming manner. “It’s quite all right. We enjoy your company.”
Sitting down, Oscar plunked his drink on the table and almost spilled it. “Thanks.”
“Of course.”
Charles and Max started small talk with Oscar, talking about school, the upcoming play, and the like. A few minutes into the conversation, Charles noticed Oscar’s subtle glances over at Lando, who was currently dancing with a blonde girl wearing a sparkly navy blue minidress.
“Magui,” Charles clarified for Oscar, who didn’t have to say anything—the look on his face was questioning enough. “She's in…photography, I think. She takes a lot of photos for the school? She ends up on the social media a lot.”
Oscar hadn’t torn his eyes away from the duo, watching Magui giggle at something Lando had whispered in her ear as they swung back and forth with the rhythm of the music. “Oh. Yeah, she looked familiar…”
“My god, Oscar,” Max groaned, putting his head in his hands. “I’m getting you another drink. You look like someone ran over your cat. It’s terrible to watch.”
“No I don’t! I’m just—I don’t—” Oscar stumbled over his words, trying to defend himself. But there was no defense for what was happening. Max and Charles had already figured out what was going on, and they were trying to help. I guess it’s fine.
Sighing, Oscar knocked back the rest of his drink before setting it down on the table firmly, as if the glass were his thoughts that he wanted to get rid of. “Fine. Maybe I do look hopeless. Just—I don’t want to talk about it.”
“All right then,” Charles said, putting his hands up in surrender. “Whatever you say.”
So the conversation turned back to the upcoming show, but Oscar couldn’t help but take one last glance back at Lando and Magui having the time of their lives before tuning back in.
── .𖥔 ݁ ˖
They’d entered the second hour of being at the club, and Oscar hated it.
He’d tried to stop staring at Magui and Lando, but his eyes just kept going back, like a revolving door. It was miserable.
“Just go talk to him, you dumbass,” muttered Max, deep into his third drink. “You’re pathetic.”
Oscar immediately tried to protest, finishing the rest of the second drink Max had gotten him—a gin and tonic to match his own. He wasn’t a huge fan. “But—”
“No buts!” declared Charles. “Now is your chance! See? He’s alone now!” He nodded over at Lando.
Sure enough, Magui had left Oscar’s favorite Briton stranded in the middle of the dance floor, instead cozying up to one of the boys on the school’s soccer team.
Oscar blinked before Max gave up and pushed him out of the seat towards the dance floor. “Go, you fuckin’ idiot!”
“Okay, okay!” Oscar frowned. “I’m going. Okay.”
Weaving his way through the crowd of intoxicated people (a lot of them probably there with fake IDs, as he sort of did), Oscar tentatively approached Lando on the dance floor.
It was quite obvious that Lando was many drinks farther into the night than Oscar was. His eyes were less focused, and he smelled slightly of alcohol—which was masked by whatever scent he was wearing (which Oscar particularly liked).
“Hi, Osc!” Lando slurred. “I missed you!”
“Uh…missed you too,” Oscar replied warily. He’d basically never seen Lando drunk—unlike his rebellious persona, Oscar knew Lando had never had had alcohol when he was underage.
Lando just stared into Oscar’s eyes, which Oscar stepped away a little uncomfortably at. Lando’s eyes could read his soul—and Oscar was never a big fan of that.
“You look sooo pretty,” Lando giggled, slinging an arm around Oscar. “Let’s dance!! Please?”
“…What?” Oscar was quite lost. What is going on? He’s drunk as hell. Does he even know what he’s saying?
Lando frowned. “C’mon, can we dance?” He looked like someone had kicked his puppy, and Oscar immediately felt bad. And one dance couldn’t hurt…right?
“Sure…?”
With a lopsided grin, Lando wrapped his arms around Oscar’s waist and began swaying along with the music, albeit off-kilter.
Oscar felt strange. Here he was, with his best friend in a club, celebrating said best friend’s eighteenth birthday, dancing with him. Drunkenly. Maybe it was all the drinks—Oscar felt a little tipsy himself (much less than Lando, though, he figured).
Shaking off his thoughts, Oscar nervously placed his hands on Lando’s shoulders. This was the craziest thing he’d done in a while—and he had no idea how he’d ended up here, or why he even agreed to go in the first place.
“Osc?” Lando asked quietly, looking up at Oscar with those gorgeous blue-green eyes of his.
Oscar swallowed, trying not to freak out at how close he was. This was not good for his heart rate. “Yeah?”
“You’re like…my best friend,” Lando confessed. “My bestest friend in the whole universe. And I really—” He interrupted himself with a laugh. “Have I ever told you how hot you are?”
“Um…no.” Oscar wanted to drop dead from shock. His best friend. Calling him hot. What an experience.
“I should tell you that more often,” Lando sighed, blinking up at Oscar. “Seriously, you’re so—”
He was promptly stopped from speaking as he accidentally stepped on Oscar’s toes while stumbling around, almost falling into Oscar. “Oops.”
“It’s all good,” Oscar wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come out. Just a strangled noise that sounded like “S’fine-don’t-worry-about-it-you’re-gorgeous-too” if someone had mushed it all together and baked it at a million degrees like a bad recipe, making it completely incomprehensible. He hoped nobody else had heard that.
Lando’s face looked dazed as he processed Oscar’s words—which took him a while, given that he was about five drinks deep and Oscar was only about two and a half. “Ohh-kayy.”
“Are you okay?” Oscar asked, mildly concerned. Of course, Lando was drunk, but Oscar had no idea how to deal with it. “Seriously, I—”
“Never been better!” grinned Lando, narrowly avoiding bumping into a couple next to them, who shot them a dirty look before going over to the bar. “Isn’t this so fun?”
“Sure…”
Lando’s eyes traced the outline of Oscar’s face like an artist creating a sketch, and Oscar tried to stop his face from reddening. This was by far the weirdest thing to happen to him in the span of his lifetime.
“Your eyes are so…wow,” Lando murmured, almost reaching a hand up to tuck a piece of hair behind Oscar’s ear, to which Oscar nearly backed away at. This cannot be real. There is no way my best friend is flirting with me right now at a club on a Saturday night. You’re imagining things, Oscar. Snap out of it.
Lando seemed to contemplate something for a second (very strange for a wasted teenager in the club) before leaning forward and kissing Oscar. Kissing Oscar.
And Oscar damn well near exploded.
It was unreal. Lando was kissing Oscar. They were kissing in the club and nobody had the slightest idea, all faded into the background. Nothing else mattered right now—nothing except the feel of Lando’s lips on his.
It was drunken and messy and not like the movies. The atmosphere was too loud, both of them were sweating buckets, and Lando had leaned in too far and stepped on Oscar’s toes again.
But Oscar didn’t give a fuck. It didn’t matter if there was a tornado outside—he didn’t want to let go of this fleeting moment, because he knew that’s all it was. A fleeting moment. He needed to hold onto it for as long as he could.
Somehow along the way, without Oscar even knowing, their hands were suddenly in each other’s hair and they were kissing like it was their last day on planet Earth—and Oscar was about to have a heart attack and was trying not to laugh or cry or wish he was at home with his sisters, watching a stupid movie with them. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.
Lando eventually came up for air and giggled lightly, not offering any commentary of his own. Which was understandable—he was absolutely hammered, for heaven’s sake.
Muttering a “sorry, gotta piss” to Lando, Oscar stumbled into the bathroom, shutting himself in the first empty stall and placing himself down on the toilet seat. His head was spinning. It was the drinks. Definitely just the drinks.
Oscar buried his head in his hands, still tasting Lando’s lips on him. He had no idea what to do.
What is happening with you, Oscar?
── .𖥔 ݁ ˖
Eventually, the whole group came back together and left the club—Pierre and Daniel hitched a rideshare while Max, Charles, and Carlos walked home in one direction, leaving Oscar and Lando to walk home the opposite way.
Most of the time was occupied by Oscar trying to keep Lando from falling off the sidewalk and Lando trying to hug Oscar, which was promptly avoided (mainly because Oscar 1. didn’t want to freak out again and 2. Lando looked like he was going to puke up the alcohol any moment and Oscar did not want to be in the radius of that disaster).
After a brief walk from the club, the duo ended up in front of Lando’s house.
“Night night,” Lando murmured almost incomprehensibly with a large smile before fidgeting with his keys and almost dropping them before trying (and sort of failing) to unlock his door. He got it after a minute, and was about to head inside when Oscar said—
“Happy birthday, Lando.”
“Thank youuu,” Lando said before disappearing inside—probably going to throw up.
Grabbing his own keys and quietly turning the locks of his door, Oscar stepped into his house and was met with silence. His mother and all three of his sisters were sound asleep; the only noise Oscar could hear was his own breathing and the creaking of the door closing.
There’s no way tonight was real. My best friend just kissed me. Wait—did anyone see? I’m never going to hear the end of it from everyone—
“No,” Oscar said firmly, his voice echoing in the quiet of the house, trying to ground himself. “Do not think about it.” He trudged up the stairs, quickly changing into his pyjamas and slipping under the covers, staring up at the ceiling in darkness.
Oscar had never felt so lost in his entire life.