two at fault
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Every point he’d gotten since Baku felt like something stolen. Like he’d been the one crashing Oscar’s car into walls, the one telling him to risk it all on every turn, or the one making him miserable after every race.
But—Brazil had been perfect. Right?
Oscar had crashed into a wall. Oscar had rammed into another car. Oscar had gotten a ten seconds penalty. And Lando had extended the lead by fifteen points.
Lando couldn’t be happier.
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- Part 1 of two at fault
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“Why did you come here, Lando?”
Lando was usually really good at asking for the things he wanted.
The words always came out of him loose and uncensored. A quick fuck me always served him right. And there were some times when he didn’t even have to ask. Those were the easiest, but the most boring ones. Asking was always fun.
But this time, he didn’t know how to ask.
“Just…” Lando breathed in, small and unstable, “Bad weekend.”
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- Part 2 of two at fault