Archive of Our Own

There was a deafening cheer accompanied by the thunderous bells of the church, covering the surrounding countryside and reaching the farthest corners of the village with their noise.

Lando's family had gone to their country house for vacation, just outside the city, bordering the north of England. Lando wasn't keen on the idea at the time, for what child would want to go so far away, to such a desolate place, for vacation? Of course, he could count on the company of his siblings at every turn, and the chirping of birds as silence filled the meadow every second after the sun went down after dusk, only to be replaced by crickets until dawn.

He didn't really know anyone in the place, and in fact, he doubted that anyone in his family did at all. But there was something about that afternoon, when he decided that he would stop being a sulky little boy who grumbled about not wanting to be there, and accompanied his mother on a walk around the village. That day the church was packed with people, mainly residents of the village and the odd distant guest, all gathered for the wedding of who-knows-who.

The ceremony was over, but Lando could see the bride and groom running out holding hands, wide smiles covering every space on their faces, crow's feet stretched across the corners of both eyes; they were happy, he concluded. The people around them were chanting deafening screams, covered in small confetti papers and plastic trumpets. He couldn't help but turn to see his mother, who smiled sweetly back at him, with a squeeze in his little hand.

"Look, love," she remarked, resuming her gaze towards the bride and groom, "I really hope I'll be there the day you find someone who makes you run that happy and that passionate."

Lando knew then. He wanted something like this, he wanted to see his mother with a nostalgic smile plastered on her face, knowing that now his little boy was in the hands of someone to whom he would give his life for eternity, in the face of sickness and health.

—

The message arrived on a Wednesday morning. Not an early riser, Lando survived under the computer lights by exploiting his creativity in designs that would help put a plate on his table, and at night he played in nearby clubs to satisfy his frustrated dreams with a lousy paycheck, but it helped to bring an occasional treat (like his sound-cancelling headphones or a new hard drive for his computer).

He was definitely not a morning person, but the message in his mail made him wake up instantly, turn pale and want to vomit up everything he had consumed the day before. All within ten seconds of reading the message.

"Piastri & Taylor's Wedding".

It read in bold italics, standing out above the rest of the text. The surprise brought Lando an uncontainable uneasiness, to the point that his breathing was barely produced in intermittent inhalations. Oscar was going to marry, and he would not marry Lando.

Lando exited the email tab, unable to respond with even a small 'hey, matey, thanks for the invite!' Instead, he looked up Max's number in his contact list and called once he found it.

"Mate, what the fuck? It's 6am, we went to bed like..." a pause was heard, his friend's sleepy voice was accompanied by shaky breaths "Two hours ago, Lando, really?"

"Oscar's getting married," he blurted out. Neither said good morning or greeted the other, there was no time for that.

Max remained silent for a few seconds, quite possibly processing the information he had just received. Max knew perfectly well the story between Oscar and Lando, he was there from the first minute until the end of it.

"Mate... that's so fucked up," was all he said, silence orbiting both phone lines.

Lando nodded, knowing he couldn't see it. Because he agreed with Max, the situation was really fucked up for him and his heart was beginning to flatten with the thickness of a pane of glass, and shatter with the force in which a hammer would strike that same piece of glass.

"I..." Lando wanted to begin to explain himself, inhaling a huge sigh before continuing, "I don't know what to do, should I attend? Do you think he invited me out of mere courtesy?"

"No" Max replied instantly, silencing the mutterings in Lando's head and pushing away any hint of insecurity covering his self-esteem "I don't think so, you know what he's like. We both know he still cares about you, Lando."

But did he really? He'd lost touch with Oscar since they'd drifted apart. They started in short, irregular messages, until they gradually fizzled out to a short 'hope everything is going great for you, Ospi' two years ago, and Oscar simply replied with a heart emoji.

"Yeah, you're right" he merely replied that, his voice so faint that for a moment he questioned whether Max had caught up to hear him on the other line. "Sorry to call so early, I didn't know what to do the moment I got the mail, I-"

"Lando" Max interrupts, voice serious again ", you know you don't have to apologize. Actually, I'd like to apologise myself... my head doesn't produce coherencies at this hour to know what to say to you."

Lando understands, because he's in that position himself and possesses the same quality. Max has been his best friend since they were little, when they met in a bakery because their mothers had a brief argument over a ridiculousness that Lando prefers to forget at every possible opportunity. Max knows Lando as well as Lando knows him; they are the perfect pair, those close to them have said on a couple of occasions. So close that they even incorporate each other's qualities into their personalities.

Likewise, Lando doesn't blame him either. It was Wednesday, just crossing the navel of the week, and last night they both stayed up late. Max accompanied Lando to the club and then went home, helping him advance a portion of the design he was soon to present at work until it was 3 a.m., then Max went to his own flat.

"Don't worry, matey" Lando comforted "go back to sleep, okay? I'll talk to you later".

"Sure. You should sleep too, Bob, see you later."

Max said goodbye with a yawn and hung up. Lando set the phone aside, rolling over with his back on the mattress and his eyes glued to the ceiling of the flat. He allowed himself to feel, to let himself flow, for he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep again for the rest of the day.

Oscar was getting married, and it wouldn't be to him. Quite possibly not in this life, not in the next, not in the one after the next. Oscar would not agree to marry Lando in any life.

And then a tear sprang from his eye, cradling his cheek as he walked until it fell down Lando's jaw. Images flew through his mind as more tears came, and he could do nothing but cry for the rest of the morning.

—

Lando and Oscar met at one of George's parties during his last year. Lando didn't share any classes with the host, as George was part of the Law campus, and Lando never considered the possibility of running into someone from that area in his life; however, Lando did share several classes with Alex, who was George's best friend, and so it was at a freshman party that they met multiple times until they became a solid group of college friends.

George knew the stereotype he had carried from day one: a stiff, narcissistic boy, too correct for the tastes of the "liberals" who inhabited the campus. George was aware of this, and in a way he tried to disprove all these accusations by throwing big parties every fortnight at his house, a luxurious place in the poshest part of Greater London. While George didn't boast, anyone who knew him and noticed every item of clothing he wore, or simply set foot in his house, would know that he came from a good family. Lawyer parents, owners of an exclusive law firm and associates of great British or European politicians, supported their boy's every whim with all the money he needed for it, and thus also compensated for their absence from George's life.

It was at a party in October, a week before Halloween, that Lando was invited to George's first party of his last year, after back-to-school, about three and a half years ago.

The noise was boisterous, he heard more of the murmurs, the music and the laughter of the guests than the voice in his head. Lando had lost sight of Alex about an hour ago, so he decided to continue drinking on his own and join the other guests on the dance floor, until his feet agreed that they couldn't take it anymore and that the noise was irritating him to no end.

Outside, in George's back garden, there was a cool autumn breeze ruffling his hair in different directions and giving the tip of his nose a reddish tinge. There weren't many people in the space due to the weather, just the odd smoker and people looking for privacy to take their shot with their potential hook-ups for the evening. Lando walked past and went straight to a tree, a huge oak that made him question how it could fit in the ground, and sat down behind it with his back against the trunk.

He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing the delight of the breeze to hit his cheeks, like the brush of a small feather fluttering in front of him. The sound of the treetop wiggling helped him relax, for Lando was the kind of drunk who suffered a jolt of energy within five minutes of his first drink and an irreparable slump within hours, wishing he was in his bed asleep until the next morning. His mother once caught him coming home after he'd had too many beers, too sleepy to be bothered by throwing up on his pillow and going back to sleep like it was nothing.

The reprimand for nearly choking to death on his own vomit was gigantic, and Lando promised he would try to keep control (a promise he didn't keep, but apologised, specifying that he had said something about "trying").

The memory made him miss his mother suddenly, so immersed in his thoughts that he never noticed the pale boy standing in front of him, a cigarette wrapped around his fingers.

"I hope the smoke doesn't bother you," the boy commented, causing him to snap his eyes open and snap out of his reverie.

Brown hair, which fell tousled over his forehead, basic white shirt and a pair of black trousers. The beauty marks that sprinkled his face were decorated with a soft blush because of the frigid atmosphere outside.

"Not at all," was all Lando replied, sitting up in his place as the words tumbled out of his mouth.

Holy Christ. This was his favourite spot at every George party, usually uncluttered, how could he not notice that someone was there?

And it was as if the boy could hear Lando's thoughts that he decided to speak, "I saw you come in and try to sleep, sorry if I scared you or something..." he looked hesitant, explaining with hand gestures. "I thought warning you would have been a great idea, I wouldn't have wanted to see you die of pneumonia in front of my eyes".

Lando smiled, the scenario replaying in his head. It's not like he was a big fan of being in the spotlight, but it would have been fun to watch everyone panic about the agonising stage of his potential death.

"Er, no, easy," was all he replied, leaning his head back against the tree trunk.

The silent pause was brief, with the boy looking everywhere but at Lando's face. He looked so plain, his features of an innocent little boy who wouldn't be part of the smokers at a pre-Halloween party. Lando wondered if he was new, judging by his faint-hearted, nervous demeanour.

"Do you want some?" he offered in a curious accent, now with Lando more aware of his surroundings to notice.

"Wow, no, I don't smoke" he replied immediately. Of course he'd tried the cigarette, he was a risk-taker and welcomed any new experience. However, he never counted on a coughing fit and throwing up because he couldn't get rid of the damn cough, "in fact, you don't look like someone who smokes either".

"I don't," Lando raised an eyebrow, "it's my friend's. He thought that maybe if someone saw me smoking, it would draw attention to me and give the impression that I was a cool guy at a party instead of a naive guy at his first college party."

Lando wanted to laugh, because even if he had alcohol dominating his system to evade coherence, his reasoning agreed with him that this was a tremendously stupid thing to do; the guy, without a doubt and even if he had fifty cigars in one hand and two guns in the other, still looked like a naive guy at his first college party.

He didn't laugh, anyway, not wanting to embarrass him. "So how's that plan coming along?"

"Oh, not so good. You're the first person to see me with this, actually," he held up the cigarette, which was burning on its own. Lando noticed that since their conversation began, he had never taken a puff.

"Ha! Sure, yeah, let me give you my analysis," he sat up straight, taking a posture of thought and criticism, as if he were an important judge at a show-talent. "Yeah, you're definitely a cool guy at his hundredth party."

"Thank God, I was already worried" he brought a hand to his chest, with exaggerated drama and a hint of amusement in his voice.

Lando, between soft chuckles, concluded that he was Australian or something.

"You new around here?"

"No, it's my second year," he replied, finally sitting down on the grass in the garden, right in front of Lando, "my friend is new, he's a first year. He wanted me to join him here, you know."

Lando didn't respond with words, a nod of his head was enough to let Aussie know that he understood what he was referring to. And of course it was understandable, if Lando himself had been dragged to parties before by Max, or vice versa.

"Who's your friend?" curiosity got the better of him. Quite possibly he didn't know the friend, but he was a first-rate busybody and couldn't leave without knowing.

"His name is Logan" was all he answered.

"Sargeant?" the Aussie seemed surprised, shaking his head in approval to let Lando know that it was the same one. Maybe Lando did know him, after all. "We study similar things, sometimes we share classes or something. I'm a senior, by the way." Lando dispelled the Aussie's doubts with that, because he seemed to be in a loop of confusion.

Logan Sargeant was the kind of guy who would attract attention anywhere he went. Not because of his looks, not because of his aura, simply because it wasn't every day you'd find an American in a university full of Brits and other Europeans. Much less an American who would spout stupidities like "bro, why is it so hard to understand your language? What do you mean by chips being cookies here?", as if it wasn't literally the same language, anyway.

Despite Logan Sargeant being a sea of irrational comments, Lando never met anyone as smart as him. Sure, he might be a novice, but he was so good at programming that Lando felt his head explode every time he cracked a meaningless, humorless joke while solving some exercise.

"He's a great kid," he added as his last, after snapping out of his thoughts.

"He is, yeah..." Aussie pulled his phone out of his pocket, sitting up immediately after reading a text message, and made a failed attempt to put out his cigarette. "Speaking of him he's just looking for me, I've got to go. Nice talking to you... I'm Oscar, by the way."

"Lando" was all he said before Aussie (now going by the name of Oscar) set off on his way with a coy smile. His absence left an icy space next to Lando, and it was when he realised that he conveyed so much warmth that for a moment he forgot that it was autumn instead of summer.

—

Lando was late for work, again. As usual, his alarm went off and was moved to "five more minutes" which turned into more than half an hour. Not that it was worrying, because he was meeting with a trusted client, but he still didn't want to be reprimanded again for keeping someone important waiting.

He had found a place at a large advertising company in central London. While he could take a tube and walk to the headquarters very easily, he liked the complicated and lazy life of opting for an uber to the centre of the populous city. Lando was crazy.

Anyway, his client had sent a message that they would finally meet at a slightly less central coffee shop, so Lando thanked the thousand seas for the good fortune that maybe he wouldn't be so late after all. He had been the one in charge and representative of taking all the creative designs that every publication and advertisement of his client's karting group would have. Max Verstappen was not only a young man a few years older than Lando, but he had also become the owner of a karting group that encouraged kids to follow their dreams in motorsport, or just do it for fun. The son of a former Formula 1 driver, Lando met him less than a year ago at a meeting where he sought out the company where he works so he could publicly push his new project, and for some reason Lando's youthful coolness was appealing enough to be the one to take Max's every idea and turn it into detailed designs.

Although Max was sweating money, he never wore any flashy or ostentatious clothing, he simply existed in the most... regular clothes in the world. Lando found him sitting with a coffee in hand checking his phone, gently sipping the contents of the cup, and was greeted with a bright smile as he sat down in the chair opposite him.

"Max! Thank God you're still here, sorry I'm late," Lando excused himself, agitated. Max waved his hand dismissively, and the Brit felt like shouting as he pulled his laptop out of his briefcase.

Max continued to sip his coffee as Lando showed him the designs. Apparently the dutch was planning to open up to social media and post the boys' progress, so he needed presentation brochures for each of the members of his group. Max Fewtrell had helped Lando with this the other day until the early hours of the morning, so the Brit was hoping with all his might that the artwork would be to Verstappen's liking.

"It's lovely, yes," he replied, another sip following, "but maybe there could be something else? how about a change of colours? Like, huh, a darker blue, but still make it pop."

Of course, because he too was of simple, unremarkable tastes. If it were up to Lando, everything would be neon and bright colours to the point of blinding you; however, Max was Max, so he agreed to his request and continued to show him the missing things.

"How's life treating you, Lando?"

When Lando referred to him as a trusted client, it wasn't because he was close to the company or a frequent customer. It was because from the first moment the two had hit it off, their friendship blossoming as time went on and Lando's depressed stage became brighter once he found such a sweet friendship with him. Lando knew that Max Verstappen's life had been complicated, full of expectations that he never made the effort to meet and rejections from his closest family member; yet he was a family man who offered his arm at every opportunity and showed you why goodness was still possible on this planet.

Lando had his whole world complete when it came to people whose name was 'Max'.

"Well, you know" he didn't want to tell her that he was physically tired from all the things he was undertaking, the back-breaking work and the fact that he was still playing in nightclubs to vent his self-pity and not throw himself on the floor to cry over a situation that had happened two years ago.

"I'm excited, my nephews are getting older every day and I can't wait to be able to take them to their first grand prix, you know?" Perhaps Max noticed Lando's lack of enthusiasm for sharing his life, knowing the recent tragic events the brit was experiencing, so he decided to subtly change the subject. Of course, Lando neglected to mention how in awe Max was of Formula 1 cars, despite situations from his childhood taking it upon themselves to bring him a bitter pill to swallow.

Max was nice to talk to, if he was honest. They didn't see each other that often because of their complex schedules and the fact that the older man was travelling to different parts of Europe from time to time. Besides, Lando wasn't a fan of pestering him and demanding to see him outside of a holiday season or so; the advantage of all that was that, no matter when they saw each other, the backlog of things to tell was cleared up in a single day.

"Hey," Lando began, unsure whether to proceed. But he didn't make it that complicated either, so all at once he blurted out, "Do you want to go to a wedding with me?"

"What? I beg your pardon?" Max set his fork down halfway to his mouth, the mouthful of cake about to fall to his plate again. Lando repeated his proposal, now trying to say it in a clearer, more precise tone. "Wedding? Whose?"

"Oscar," was all that came out of his mouth.

Max was aware of his love situation, of course, he could never avoid telling him about his major emotional decline and the reasons why he wouldn't allow himself to date, or just fuck someone. The dutch understood instantly, chewing the piece of cake now.

"Is he finally getting married?" maybe Lando didn't expect that question, because the stab in his heart was unpredictable and painful, "yes, well, I mean, of course I'll go with you if that's what you want."

"It's not necessary if you can't, but I think I'll need a little moral support there."

He didn't really need it. Oscar was a mutual friend with his college circle: Alex and George would definitely be there, because Lando had introduced them once and they and Logan had joined a small circle that last year. But he knew that Alex and George would bring their chaperones (or at least Alex would, George for his part would be Alex's chaperone and his company), and his friendship with Logan was not as solid as the american was with Oscar.

Lando would potentially be alone, and needed a companion.

"You know you don't bother me" Max soothed him, a soft smile with no teeth showing decorated his face before he sipped his cup for the thousandth time. Did he never run out of his coffee? "Besides, I'm already overdue to attend a ceremony of the type in a suit. Let me free up my schedule, when is it?"

"In three weeks, give or take," he remembered the date said something about the fortnight of October, and it was just going into the penultimate week of September. Lando hoped he hadn't got the date wrong, mainly because he didn't have the courage to reopen the beggarly invitation after he'd first read it and spent the whole day crying.

"Great, wonderful" Max rubbed his hands together, you could say 'excited', "it's about time I got my suit ready, isn't it?"

And yes, as much as he wanted to hang himself with the tie, Lando also had to prepare his own suit for the acclaimed date.

—

It was in November that Lando decided to make his first move.

His birthday was coming up, his friends had promised to go out to a bar to celebrate and maybe include a little karaoke in the evening. Lando loved karaoke nights as much as he loved celebrating his birthday. Almost like an enthusiastic toddler he was eager to see what his parents had in store for him, because yes, Lando wasn't the one organising his celebration.

Nevertheless, Lando had taken advantage of the non-organiser's free time to organise in other areas. Anyone would think that he would devote his time to his studies, perhaps planning what he would finish his final project for his degree in graphic design, or perhaps concentrating on the Christmas presents he would give to his demanding and fussy nephews and nieces. No, on the contrary, Lando dedicated himself to approaching the american on his campus with a single purpose: Oscar. Because Lando was a mastermind, Lando discovered that Oscar kept his social networks private after an arduous day of online stalking, just as he learned that Oscar was not so well known on campus for being a social boy.

What Lando did learn was that Oscar was pursuing a degree in mechanical engineering, because the boy was a lover of grease and the roar of engines. Lando now understood why they had never crossed paths; Oscar was one of those who would bring new technology to the world, and Lando was one of those who would keep humanity human with feelings embodied in art.

If he was completely honest with himself, there was no reason at all why becoming so interested in this Oscar overnight was reasonable. In general, it was also not right to inquire in any way into his personal life rather than just walk up and say "hey, hi, I hope you remember me. I'm Lando, I almost died of pneumonia because of you". No, Jesus, that would never be good for his dignity.

Nor was it right to approach little Logan for the same reason, but even though Lando suspected that Logan was suspicious, he didn't seem bothered by it at all. On the contrary, he even seemed to adapt to Lando's presence hovering near him when they were in the same class together.

Although, if he thought about it further, there was actually a good reason why Oscar had made such an impact on him: he was the only person Lando had interacted with that night besides Alex. Oscar was the only one to engage him in a fluid conversation, to joke with him without really knowing each other, and to give him that warm, friendly vibe. Oscar was like drinking a cup of hot chocolate in the middle of a winter's blizzard.

Lando simply felt it was necessary to approach him, because Oscar was simply someone who had to be in Lando's life in one way or another.

It was no surprise to Logan when he finally asked him about his friend, to which the blond simply replied with a wry smile and a sly grimace, "Ah, so Oscar... I thought you'd finally given in to the fact that we americans have a better sense of humour than your kind," and Lando wanted to punch him for a moment.

Part of his process and access plan towards Oscar, he had also discovered that Logan wasn't as irritating as he made out. The boy probably just wanted to exude that aura of a proud and patriotic american, so as to seem immune to criticism about his nationality, but it was at a point where his method of defence was driving Lando out of his mind.

"I don't think my kind would find some Pete Davidson sketch on Saturday Night Live funny, thank God we still have our sanity."

And Logan finally laughed, nodding, agreeing to his proposal to take Oscar with him to his birthday celebration.

So Lando couldn't help but get into a crisis over his outfit for the evening. Perhaps overdoing it wouldn't be the wisest thing to do, it was a small thing among friends and well, he didn't want to give his new guest the impression that he was a pompous, snooty boy. However, it was his birthday party, what else could he do but stand out? Because Lando didn't like to be the centre of attention, normally, but he did appreciate showing off his beauty and his good fashion sense at every possible occasion.

In the end he decided on something that would fit perfectly in an 'in-between', and that was fine because the smile with which Oscar greeted him that night was enough to make him feel that Lando would be the star of the evening.

—

The three weeks went by bloody fast, almost in the blink of an eye for Lando's liking.

He didn't know at what point the days flew by, much less did he know at what point his body flew from his huge island to the other end of the earth, in France. Nor did he notice when his plane landed, nor the moment he went through the whole airport process to have his belongings returned, nor the taxi ride to the hotel where he would be staying with Max.

It wasn't until he set foot in the place that Lando finally realised his reality: it was Oscar's wedding.

And Lando loved weddings.

He wasn't sure when his affection for them began, not that he'd ever been to so many weddings in his life that he loved them and was fanatical about the excitement that swept over him every time an invitation crossed his mail. But there was something so meaningful about seeing the effort that went into each decoration, because behind it all were hidden in small details the tastes of the bride and groom and part of their history; Lando loved how everything was placed in order and the effort it took to bring every little thing to a totally neat state, so that at the end of the day the reward was to be surrounded by the most important people in your life, in a ceremony in which you linked your soul with that of the person you loved the most, with your "other half".

Not that Lando was a hopeless romantic, because his level of romance was reduced to zero and his relationships failed significantly at every possible opportunity within two months of their inception. However, he was in love with love and the slight trait it contained to give your vows of love, to comment in front of an audience why you got to this point and how you would be available body and soul for the rest of your life to one person. Or maybe something less exaggerated than that, because he also didn't like to think of marriage as a one-sided thing that consumed your life to the point of being no one else besides your partner; and that's why Lando was scared to be greeted with the idea of marriage.

Lando loved weddings, but he didn't love the idea of Oscar getting married.

He didn't love the idea of Oscar waiting at the altar for the wedding march of his fiancée, that beautiful woman who would remain with him for the rest of his life, entwined with the proof of two rings wrapped around their ring fingers.

Lando wanted to scream, kick and bawl in the hotel lobby. However, he kept his cool when Max patted his shoulder with an encouraging smile. Because of course, of course Max noticed he was panicking, "Ready?"

"I've never been so fucking ready in my life."

And well, what harm would that little fib do?

—

There was something about the way Oscar remained shy on Lando's birthday night. Something peculiar, that reserved way he acted, speaking only if necessary, laughing with little crinkles in his eyes but not expressing himself with any part of his body. Oscar seemed unlike the guy Lando met at the party - a little more shy, a little more withdrawn.

Lando discovered later that, unlike on that occasion, Oscar was with drinks in him and the influence of cigarette smoke.

Although Oscar was the type of person who found it difficult to come out of his shell, Lando gradually began to get closer to him. He would invite him to group outings (with Logan included as a package, no doubt), or respond to his instagram stories with photos of his manual practices. Little by little Oscar started chatting more with Lando, and little by little Lando started inviting him to go out just the two of them together.

"What's your favourite coffee?" Lando asked, once they met outside Oscar's campus to go for lunch.

"Oh, I don't drink coffee. I'm more of a tea kind of guy" was what Oscar had answered that day to his question.

Lando then gradually learned that Oscar liked his tea order to alternate between different types: sometimes white tea, sometimes black tea, sometimes matcha tea. That also included chamomile and mint infusions, of course. But Oscar never had a fixed order.

"I don't like to get into a routine, and I don't like the idea of the teas feeling ignored," he clarified Lando's doubts when he made the observation. Why would the teas feel ignored anyway? It never crossed his mind, but the idea made him think many times.

Lando also noticed that Oscar used to be very impatient, but somehow he always kept his cool. He found out that his birthday was in April, so he was a spring baby, and his zodiac sign was Aries.

Oscar was also self-critical, often thinking that he was not good enough for his career and that he would never achieve his degree. Lando discovered that he was actually quite good the day that on one of his outings, Oscar showed him a picture of an engine he had put together; in Lando's defence, he really didn't know a damn thing about mechanics or the functions of a car. But if Oscar had managed to put an engine together and make it work perfectly, then Lando could claim he was pretty good.

And slowly, slowly, in less than five months, Lando knew as much about Oscar as the back of his hand. They were inseparable, practically almost attached at the hip at that point; without fail, they had created a routine for their time together (though Lando knew Oscar didn't really like routine), and they went on their three-times-a-week after-school dates. And on Sundays, at dinnertime, they would gather at Lando's flat with the others in the group to play board games and eat fast food.

Lando found that Oscar's companionship had become indispensable in his life, and he vowed never to let him go under any circumstances.

—

There were certain ceremonies in the stages of a wedding that Lando found confusing.

Sunday would be the big wedding day, at a French hotel near the coast in the south of the country. Oscar had opted to have a small bachelor party on Saturday, as he himself had declared that it was not necessary, but Lando knew it was simply because Oscar liked to sleep long enough before an important day, and partying was not so much in his personal preferences.

Lando had moved into the hotel on a Friday, separate rooms for him and Max. Friday had been the day Oscar and his fiancée had ruled that guests could start arriving in the country where the ceremony was to take place, according to the invitation details, but nothing so relevant would happen until Sunday.

As much as Lando wished he could stay cooped up for the weekend, he knew he couldn't. He was one of the guests at the bachelor party, and he was already making plans to excuse himself from going, because why would he go? He wanted with all his heart to avoid Oscar all weekend, maybe a greeting after the ceremony that wouldn't give away that his soul had been abruptly snatched away or that his heart had been shattered in less than 72 hours.

He didn't count on Verstappen's power, he never did. Max insisted several times on going down to the hotel restaurant for lunch instead of ordering room service; Max wanted to explore and get to know, Lando just wanted to be snuggled under the sheets that protected him from the evil outside.

And so it was that they arrived at this situation: Oscar standing in front of him with a sideways smile, almost surprised as if Lando's presence wasn't something he was counting on. His attire hadn't changed despite the years, his button-down shirts now signalled better job success just by looking at the fabric and his usual shorts. Lando didn't want to look down to see final complement was those stupid shoe thongs.

"Lando, you managed to come," he still kept the soft tone in her voice, sweet as honey but firm and clear enough to make himself heard. He couldn't help but notice the hint of surprise in his voice, as much as he had wanted to ignore it.

"Yeah, well... um, you know I couldn't miss it for the world."

Half lies, white lies.

"It's really good to see you here, it's been a couple of years..." Lando knew it, it was those couple of torturous years in his life that were making him agonise, "is he your partner? Nice to meet you, Oscar Piastri, I'm the groom".

He heard Max choke on his water, he didn't know if it was because he finally met Oscar or if he was puzzled at being mistaken for a potential boyfriend of Lando's. He hoped it was the first option, otherwise he would be totally offended.

However, Lando shook his head repeatedly in response, "No, Jesus, no. He's just a friend... we work together, he's my plus one this weekend".

Oscar now seemed sympathetic and aware of the situation.

"Oh, right. It's good to know you're doing well at work, I still remember your nerves because you didn't want to get hired and preferred to slack off for another year."

"I actually didn't get hired."

"You didn't? Oh, that must have been unfortunate for you."

Lando wanted to laugh. They had that dynamic from the past still alive, there were a thousand seas to thank for that.

"It was, yep. I work for an advertising company now, Max owns a go-karting group."

"Yeah, um hello. Max Verstappen, a pleasure" Max didn't really need to introduce himself. Anyone in the motor racing world knew who he was, or his father; Max was the child prodigy who decided to abandon the racing path for something better for himself, and Lando knew that Oscar was aware of who Max Verstappen was just by hearing his name.

Oscar accepted Max's outstretched hand as a greeting. He seemed to be analysing him, with a single glance scrutinising every part of Max's face, as if he wanted to find the answers to his greatest hidden secrets or a key revelation that would help him better understand Lando's present and why he had decided to bring a client to his wedding. Maybe Lando was overthinking the situation enough to conclude all that, but he also knew Oscar and he knew that way of looking at people with such keenness and analysis.

Oscar's phone interrupted the moment, and just like the first time Lando met him, a text message would be the one to take him away from him.

"They're looking for me for a few things, I have to go. Hope you enjoy your stay here a while longer" he turned to Lando, a pair of cocoa coloured eyes watching Lando's blue-green "it's been good seeing you Lando, good to have you here. See you soon."

And he simply walked away.

—

Even though it had taken Lando five months or so to learn all about Oscar, and vice versa. It took him no less than half that time to know that Lando really liked Oscar, and he suspected it was reciprocal.

They all knew they were a thing. A thing without a title or a name, but a thing nonetheless. It didn't seem to bother anyone about their "thing" either, so they were fine with that.

Lando had found Oscar to be very patient in other situations in life, such as taking it slow with their "thing". Lando wasn't very patient, though. So it was after New Year's, the second week of January, that he took enough courage to make his second move; because yes, Lando liked Oscar and Lando wanted Oscar.

College parties never ceased to be noisy, no matter how much the winter was penetrating into the bones of every young person there. Nor did it lose that aggrandising touch of driving Lando's coherence crazy with a rush of energy and the smoke of cigars he wasn't smoking. So, that led to him not knowing where the fuck he'd got a water pistol full of tequila, but it was in his possession at that very moment and his only task was to spray Oscar with it.

"Jesus, Lando, what the fuck?" he was saying between uncontrollable guffaws. His navy blue button-down shirt was now soaked and darkened by the contents of the water pistol "You're such a kid, where did you get that?"

"I have no fucking idea" he declared, opening his mouth to shoot the contents onto his tongue "do you want some?"

Oscar denied in amusement, watching him. His eyes were sparkling now, watching the liquid fill Lando's mouth carelessly.

Maybe it was the alcohol that made him lose his senses, definitely the brit was now losing his reasoning completely. Eyes fixed on taking in every detail of Oscar's face: moles and freckles scattered like fairy dust across his cheeks and jaw. Lando wanted to kiss them.

Lando wanted to kiss Oscar. And Oscar wanted to kiss Lando.

College parties were not noisy, but at that moment any sound other than their gasping, gasping breaths was cancelled out. The air seemed to go out of him, and now Oscar was looking straight into his eyes: that common fight, an exultant encounter between Oscar's cocoa and Lando's blue-green. It was like a plunge into the view offered by a wasteland, full of the exorbitant nature that was meant to be.

Because Lando's and Oscar's eyes were destined to see each other.

And their lips were meant to kiss. Never mind that it was the first time they had touched, Lando had taken the step to approach Oscar and bring their mouths together in haste, eager to taste his flavour and have it mix with the tequila he had just ingested. It was the urgency from the first day, at another of George's parties, that Lando had been reminded from the bottom of his gut how much he wanted to kiss Oscar.

Because Oscar was beautiful, his taste was simply an epiphany worth living for. And Lando had never felt so grateful to live for such an honour.

He also felt grateful to the universe for allowing that this was not their last kiss, but the first of many. Many sober kisses, others flavoured with white tea, chocolate, vodka or orange juice.

After the kisses ascended to nights together, with soft caresses and obscene sounds (mainly from Oscar, a melody that made Lando's mind go wild), they finally decided to turn their "thing" into something with a title and a name, for in February they were officially a couple.

—

One glance in the mirror was enough for him to be satisfied with his appearance. If he was honest, he was still looking for ways to excuse himself for not attending Oscar's bachelor party, for his enthusiasm at that point was almost nil; Max would not be able to accompany him that night, so he would have to remain on his own isolated from any comments or references to the celebration that would take place the next day.

Max Fewtrell would probably have been a great help. He was Lando's lifelong best friend, knew Oscar and they had been friends a couple of times to the point of being friends on their own. He knew he had been invited to Oscar's wedding a couple of days after the phone call he had with Lando, but Max was in Brazil with his fiancée with no chance of attending and had to apologise not only to the host, but also to poor, miserable Lando.

Now Lando was dealing with himself, with his self-pity and with how difficult it would be to see Oscar celebrate his last night as a "bachelor".

The party was to be held at a bar near the hotel, part of the chain that surrounded the beach on the French coast. Logan had been in charge of organising everything, of course, being the right hand man and best man; he had rented an exclusive part of the bar for Oscar and his guests, with greater access to a certain part of the beach that was not overrun by the other people who spent their free time at the bar.

Lando didn't delay in looking for a drink once he got there, the space was awash with house music and colourful lights waving in an intense incandescent and neon twinkle. It was a typical disco space, with Oscar's favourite music and Oscar's favourite drinks.

"Lando, mate!" he managed to hear over the noise. George pronounced himself with a half-buttoned white shirt and a shot of mojito in his left hand.

"Hey, how long have you been here? Did you get here all right?"

"Er, yeah. Alex and I landed last night, Lily arrived this morning" he shrugged. Lily was Alex's girlfriend, and George was his main third wheel.

"Oh, all right, where's Alex, then?"

George pointed to a spot in space and Lando wanted to throw up. Alex was playing shots with Oscar and Logan, next to him was also Oscar's blond friend whose nationality Lando always forgot. Fred-something was his name.

"Come on, join in."

Lando couldn't refuse, and took another gulp of the mojito in his own hand. He needed as much liquor in his system as possible to at least try to survive that night a little longer.

"George! You missed Logan blowing tequila out his nose!" Alex exclaimed before noticing Lando's tiny, scrawny body walking lazily behind George.

"Lando, good to see you again" Oscar had been the first to notice, again with that surprised tone and his eyebrows raised slightly. It seemed as if every time he met Lando that weekend it was a total situation to leave him nothing but stunned.

He had invited him, had he not really counted on his presence?

"Can I play?" Maybe he'd sound like a rude piece of shit for that being his first sentence of the night, but he really wanted to get out of that situation with the influence of anything but sobriety. He didn't want it, he needed it.

"Of course, here."

A round of seven tequila shots was placed in front of him. He knew what the game was about, someone would count to five and the participant would have to take each shot consistently without pausing for a moment.

What Lando didn't expect was that Oscar would be in charge of counting from one to five and driving him crazy.

Gulp after gulp, burning in his throat with haste and exuding fiery flames in his stomach. Wasn't that convenient? If he came down with diarrhoea he would have the perfect excuse not to attend the ceremony.

Unfortunately the amount of alcohol didn't feel like enough. He so regretted being a bloody drunk in his younger years, too addicted to discos blaring their speakers with EDM and defeated people dancing all over the place, he had become immune to being completely out of his mind with that number of shots.

However, he had decided not to continue for the rest of the evening if he didn't have to. It's not as if he didn't want to end up unconscious lying on the sand and getting swept away by the sea waves until dawn like a poor, unfortunate castaway, no. But he allowed himself to enjoy dancing to that damn house music.

The games didn't stop there, they also did a sort of limbo, pingpong, billiards and something with a video game console that Lando didn't notice until Frederik defeated George in his first game, with euphoric screams after his victory.

Lando was slowly beginning to become overstimulated, the energy slump making its usual presence known. He grabbed a mojito from the bar and looked for the exit to the beach access. He needed some fresh air.

The sand was tinted light blue by the moonlight, the sea was barely visible because it was so dark and the only thing that dictated his presence there was the sound of the waves crashing against the shore and the foam spraying across the sand. A sight to behold, if you asked him; though he had to admit that only Oscar was crazy enough to marry on the beach in the autumn, when the weather turned cold and the wind fluttered everything in its path.

"You still haven't lost the habit of seeking out the lonely places, have you?"

Lando's peace of mind was hammered down when he heard that voice. The voice that once brought him calm was now the thing he least wanted to hear, for he was never prepared to face it.

"Yeah, well, I needed some air to clear my thoughts."

"Really?" Lando nodded. Oscar had kicked off his shoes and was sinking his feet into the sand "what are you thinking about so much?"

"Nothing in particular... just the events of the last few days."

As he took off his own shoes, Oscar was sitting down next to him. Lando noticed his presence closer, now fully aware of the smell of tequila and perfume that Oscar carried as a scent.

"This is all crazy, don't you think?"

Lando turned to see him finally. Again wearing a button-down shirt and his typical shorts. At least he could tell something hadn't changed about him.

"What do you mean?"

"Life... and everything in general. I never thought I'd be here, one day away from getting married. I never thought I'd get to organise a wedding in my life either. But it's all a sea of improbabilities, isn't it?"

"What are you talking about?" Lando's brow furrowed, "you always dreamed of getting married and making a home, living in a cottage by a river and all that cheesy stuff."

Oscar's laughter was present, vibrant and animated. Lando missed that sound as if it was his own happiness he hadn't heard in millennia.

"You're right, yes. But I didn't imagine fulfilling it, you know? I thought it would remain just that, a deluded dream."

"But you found your soulmate, Oscar, and that's a much better thing than dreaming big about a wedding," Lando declared, fixing his gaze on the rolling of the waves and the night tide.

A sigh and then silence was his response for a few minutes. Oscar was also looking out over the surf, in a pensive state like his companion.

"You... you found your soulmate, Lando?"

No, he wanted to answer, you're my goddamn soul mate.

Instead, the words didn't make it down his throat and he just shook his head.

Again there was silence. Lando didn't know if it was comfortable or uncomfortable; awkward or quiet. Just two serene breaths in time with the blowing of the wind.

"Do you think there's anything yet to be done to stop you from getting married?" Lando turned abruptly to Oscar, who looked stunned at Lando's question.

"What?"

"You know, like in the movies, Made of Honour or some other Julia Roberts movie" he declared, and the sound of vibrant laughter was there again.

"I don't think so, Lando" another sigh followed his mumble, he almost looked defeated "you were my soulmate, you know?"

Now it was Lando's turn to be surprised, because what the fuck? Oscar and his statements always managed to take him by surprise at the worst moment.

"Are you serious or are you taking pity on my miserable little shit?"

"I'm serious, Lando" he grabbed a handful of sand and slowly dropped it back into place. "When- when we met I always knew it would be you. I mean, how could it not? I was never brave enough to talk to strangers, but watching you sleep against the tree trunk made me brave enough to make a joke and wait for the magic to happen."

Lando scrutinised Oscar's face as he searched for a hint of jest or amusement in his words.

"I really wished it was you, at the time I longed for it to be you and only you" the sand had stopped falling and now there was again that shock of cocoa with greenish blue, searching for answers in a simple look "I'm never going to forget you Lando, let alone bury the memories of all my first times by your side. But our prospects were taking different paths and we were both dreaming different things..."

Lando no longer knew what to say at this point. He'd had a certain conversation with Oscar a week before it ended, where they both laid out their dreams and opened their hearts to the honesty that crowded their hearts. Just in a similar setting, in August, under the moonlight in a greenish field in Spain.

Now it was just the two of them and their hearts beating in a single accelerated palpitation, to the rhythm of their agitated breaths and the trickle of tears.

"Oscar, I..."

"Tomorrow..." Oscar interrupted, raising his tone to a firmer, clearer one. He was grateful for the interruption, because Lando wasn't entirely sure what kind of broken pleas would come out of his mouth "Tomorrow Grace will be my wife. Tomorrow is my big day, Lando."

His feet were now digging into the sand so hard it felt like he was digging for treasure down there. He was tense, restless, perhaps a little disconsolate.

"She's definitely not you. But we're creating new experiences, new things together" he paused slightly to take a breath "we have-we have similar prospects, common goals and the same dreams. She complements me, Lando, and she makes me happy."

Now that was definitely not what Lando had expected to hear, but he understood. Oscar had moved on, moved on with his life after his college breakup, and Lando had been stuck there. He wouldn't even allow himself to see other people because his hopes for Oscar were still there, dreaming of a universal parallel where their paths would meet again in a bright dawn.

Oscar's confession had been enough for Lando to break down, silent tears flooding his being. And Oscar, being aware, wiped away one of his tears with his thumb.

"You know I'm always going to wish you the best in life, Oscar. Even if it's not by my side, I'll always hope for the best for you."

"I know, I know perfectly well."

"I wish-" Lando paused because of a sob "I wish, really, that I could have been that person to complete you. There were so many things, so many details about you that I wish I could have experienced or known, like your habits at home or the way you were as a whiny old man."

Oscar laughed heartily, a barely audible hiccup expelled from his lips. He was crying too, Lando deduced.

"And also... there was also a lot of me that you missed knowing" Lando lowered his eyes to the sand, the breeze managing to lift a few pimples and carry them to another extreme "my version of a caring and sociable old man, for example".

"Oh, I don't doubt that's your version," Oscar commented with sarcasm noticeable in his voice, almost disguising the mid-sentence voice break.

"Maybe in another life we are meant to be, Lando" Oscar continued, looking at him fondly "as long as this one continues, I want you to keep pursuing your happiness and move on. You know you deserve it, you're wonderful and a brilliant mind, let your glow burnish towards other horizons."

And for the first time in all those years of knowing each other, the fusion of cocoa with blue-green was not having a fight, but a union. They were combining with each other, searching for longing and affection, mingling one last time before dissolving into the sea in front of them.

"I love you, Oscar" Lando revealed, looking away after a few seconds.

Oscar moved closer to him. Eyes closed, expression peaceful. A kiss on the corner of Lando's forehead was enough to let him know his devotion.

"I love you too," Oscar said after pulling away.

Lando was aware that this kiss had been a farewell of sorts, a silent goodbye that needed no more words than such a small and simple act. It conveyed all his attachment and all his melancholy.

Now Lando could allow himself to cry freely. It was no longer a cry of agony and pain, the kind that made him feel scratches on his skin and a churning in his guts. It was a soothing cry, moving in the direction of longing and farewell.

"Can you stay here with me a while longer?"

He didn't seem surprised by Lando's request, but rather as if he was already waiting to hear it.

"I don't really have anywhere else to go for now" he pulled his body closer to the Brit's, giving off all his body heat "I don't want to go back in there and listen to George's whining because Fred beat him again, you know."

They both laughed, vibrating together. It was just them there on the beach, under the moonlight and the splash of the tide on the white sand. It was them for the last time in an intimate moment, in their goodbye bubble.

It was Oscar and Lando, one last time before they became nothing.

—

Spain was sunny, its shores hugging the Mediterranean with a blazing heat and a paintbrush available to tint each individual's skin a warm tan.

George had been planning a holiday trip sponsored by his parents to a beach ranch in Spain. An accommodation that would be theirs for two weeks, near a small town of colourful structures and lively architecture.

The only time Lando had ever left his home country had been to go to see the country from where his mother came from, in Belgium. On the other hand, he was too stingy about travelling, fearing his budget and compulsion to spend unnecessarily.

"Nice, isn't it?" George had said in a cheerful tone, hoping for positive reactions from his friends.

You could tell they were all dazzled, in general there was no reaction other than stupefaction, because holy shit, the house looked utterly welcoming despite being barely furnished and with an echo succumbing the corners every time they spoke. The only negative thing Lando found about the place was the amount of luxury that dominated the space, full of crystal and china so fine that he felt it shatter as he walked past it.

"I never thought I'd be in a place like this."

Oscar had whispered in his ear, so stealthily that Lando didn't hear him approach. Lando gave him a mellifluous smile, reassuring him.

"No? And here I thought you were carrying an inheritance of Australian fortune."

Oscar... what to say about Oscar? He was stripping Lando's brains into a kind of sweet dust, loose as a cloud, impetuous to his very existence.

They had started dating and having their "thing" since december, making it official in february, and since then they hadn't stopped granting each other little moments of inexplicable sensations for each other, sharing important moments together that would mark each other's lives.

Lando had been Oscar's first time (with a man, at least), he knew when after an arduous and fiery session of kissing that ascended the path of lust, Oscar stopped him with a hand on his chest and a confession full of shyness that made Lando want to explode with affection.

Lando was careful that time, explaining it to him detail by detail, attentive to ask if he was comfortable or what things he liked, firm in agreeing to try new things and going into a giggly state when they made an awkward move that complicated them both.

Then Oscar seemed to be controlled by some sort of incubus demon who subjected Lando to the wildest, most prurient things that had ever crossed his mind. He was fascinated, driven mad.

"I don't know, I just come up with scenarios and then I think of you. To try them out on you."

Oscar replied one day when Lando confronted him to find out the reason for his sporadic and precocious adventures.

He was a crazy, insolent little piece of shit who had Lando's throat slit underground, as Lando told Max Fewtrell every chance he got.

By july Lando was graduating. With the diploma of his degree in graphic design taped to his left arm, fearful that if he let go it would be snatched from his possession. Oscar had accompanied him, of course, reminding him at every opportunity how proud he was of him and how happy he was for him; because yeah, Oscar was like that, he was happy for every little step Lando took and supported him when he was on the verge of giving up and throwing in the towel.

That afternoon Oscar had met Lando's family and was introduced to them as his boyfriend, whom they knew only from photographs or his voice in the background of phone calls. Oscar spent the whole day overly self-conscious, making Lando think that this was the side he had shown on his birthday and how crazy it would be if his family found out about the vulgarities Oscar might say on a hot night.

And then came August, during the holiday with George.

The Spanish sultry weather had enveloped the couple in a cosy little nest, in the evening light at a picnic. Oscar's cheeks were red, a layer of sweat lining Oscar's forehead. And a faint mark that was beginning to take on its respective purplish hue was peeking out from his collarbones, under his t-shirt.

"Wasn't Albert Victoria's cousin?"

"Well, yeah, but in those days it was that normal. What if you and I were distant cousins without knowing it?"

Oscar vibrated in a jovial laugh.

"I'm really not sure," Oscar said, shrugging his shoulders.

"We'd be doomed, Oscar. Our babies would come out deformed."

Oscar pretended to be shocked, shocked and stunned. Then he returned to his normal posture.

"We can't make babies, Lando."

Good point, but it took the fun out of it.

"You take the fun out of parties, Ospi," Lando grumbled.

Ospi, Lando had discovered not long before that he wanted to give his boyfriend a witty nickname and that was the end result. Oscar had reacted with a chuckle, commenting that it wasn't so witty and pointless; gradually he grew to appreciate it more, and his face changed at the mention of the endearing nickname.

"Um, say that again..."

"Ospi?" Lando repeated, mockingly "you like it, huh?"

Oscar nodded, gone. He slowly moved closer to Lando and began to spread a trail of kisses across the area of his lips and jaw, simultaneously Lando repeated the nickname over and over, endlessly. The sun had gone down a few minutes ago, with glimpses and reflections of light colouring the sky half purple, half blue, and a quarter shades of pink. At the other end lay the moon, watching them both in its bubble.

Spain was the turning point, the major witness of their summer in reverie and jubilation. Both vehement, devoted to each other under the summit of a honeymoon.

It was just Lando and Oscar. And George, Alex, and Logan... and Alex's new girlfriend, who had joined the group in the last weeks before the summer.

But at that moment, in the confinement of an endless loop, with a happy ending, it was just the two of them. Lando and Oscar, the nightly colouring as spectator to their spectacle of love, romance, passion; kisses climbing from skin to skin, teeth clashing against the hardness of flesh and bone, symphonic sounds flowing from Oscar's lips, meeting frantically with Lando's sighs.

One thrust and their worlds collided until they merged into one; two bodies annexed into one. Colliding simultaneously with the waves crashing across the sand.

"Did you ever think about your plans after graduation?"

Lando looked up at him, questioning. A blanket covered their bodies from the gentle summer breeze blowing off the Spanish coast, their clothes lay strewn about on the sand.

"Not really... maybe look for a job or something," Lando said, shrugging to play it down.

He had graduated about a month and a half ago, and if you asked him at that point what he remembered from university... he would probably say nothing. The only thing that crossed his mind about his career was colour theory and how Oscar was usually a vivid orange, maybe a pale pink or, on nights like these, a fiery red.

"I want to go live in the countryside or something, maybe raise chickens and have a little family."

"Oh, you're the cheesy type then?"

Oscar guffawed, shaking his head.

"I thought you'd be in a noisy place full of cars and big bore engines," said Lando.

"Yeah... that too, I guess. But the quiet life sounds flashy, getting married and stuff."

"Marriage doesn't sound like an entirely quiet idea to me, Ospi."

Oscar finally turned to look at Lando. He shifted his body sideways so that he could rest his weight on his elbow.

"No?" Oscar asked "don't you want to get married?"

Lando hesitated to answer for a second, rethinking the life plan he created in second grade.

"I mean, yeah, maybe. Something like my parents' but without the four unruly kids" Lando thought about what a nightmare it was for his mother to raise four little ones consecutively "a kitten would be nice, wouldn't it? But that would be when I retire or something".

"Then you'll be a bitter old nincompoop. I can't wait to see that version of Lando."

Now the turn to guffaw switched to Lando.

"Oh, trust me, you'll be that bitter old man" Lando replied in his defence "back to your question... I'm not ready for those things yet, you know? Maybe it would be great to explore the world a little more, find a job that will sour my life or just buy a sports car in which to show off my little financial stability".

Oscar made a noise in agreement, agreeing with Lando's idea.

"it has potential, we could make it work. You and me, together" he kissed the corner of Lando's forehead. He had discovered long ago that it was his favourite place to kiss, he did it with such affection and vehemence that it was a small act that expressed more than a thousand words "no ceremony or paper is necessary to be a happy couple."

Oscar sounded dreamy, enthusiastic, engrossed in the possibilities. And Lando just watched him with tenderness flashing in his eyes, brooding over Oscar's idea.

Perhaps too thoughtful, concluding in scenarios that made him feel nervous and pressured. Like an immature child who wasn't ready to be tied down to something so serious; he wanted to enjoy Oscar, yes, and spend his time with Oscar until the end of his days. What he didn't want was to be pigeon-holed into the idea of planning his future with so much discipline involved. Lando needed to be spontaneous and risk-taking, under the noise of the city and with other goals in mind.

And that led him to that September night where Lando gathered Oscar in a café to talk, telling him that he wasn't ready to move on and needed to focus on his next move for his future. Oscar, understanding, agreed, squeezing his hand to comfort him, promising through silent tears that he would be there for him and whatever he needed.

Because Oscar was like that: caring. Always offering emotional support, even though inside he was being consumed by pain and agony.

—

Oscar got married on a Sunday in October fortnight. A ceremony full of white and coral tones, with subtle and delicate decorations.

Lando decided to sit in the corner, in the last row from the altar to the exit. Isolated from the ceremony itself. His friends were sympathetic and did not question him, leaving him to stand apart from the scene, like a spectator spy.

Oscar was smiling that day, he looked glimpsed and calm. It was a contrast to the last time Lando had seen him: red-eyed and teary, two years ago, when they met at a bar to reunite the group after a while and Lando, under the influence of alcohol, kissed a random guy who looked just like Oscar. Because yes, his stupidity was so abundant that he confused him with the real Oscar, who was watching him from a near distance. 

That day was the very presence of helplessness. Lando had to beg his forgiveness for weeks after a heated argument that brought Lando's sobriety back; Oscar only responded with 'Lando, it's all right. We are nothing anymore, you owe me nothing; you have the right to make your life your own' and it was the first time Lando realised the angel he had let go.

The wedding was full of hydrangeas, Oscar's favourite flower, and small bamboo arrangements at the ends of the garden. The sky was again half purple, half blue and a quarter pink; like that time when Lando sentenced his death sentence and began to lose Oscar. 

Now it was official, because he was married to someone other than Lando. And he seemed happy, lucid; he deserved his fairy-tale happy ending. Because Oscar was like that, a kind soul who crosses the earth every three millennia, and Lando had the pleasure of sharing and being on the receiving end of all that harmony and beauty.

But it was fleeting, they were now two separate stars in a sea of cosmos, visible only after sunset.

Oscar already belonged to another galaxy, far away from Lando.

— 

He kept his finger pressed down on the screen to pause the instagram story on his screen.

Oscar had reposted a photo, posted by a girl. He looked happy. Mellow, with kisses on the cheek and their faces close enough to leave not an inch of space.

Lando knew then, that Oscar had moved on.

So he went inside and looked for Oscar's contact. The messages had diminished as time went by.

In tears he sent: 'I hope everything is going great for you, Ospi'. A heart emoji was his only reply.

For it was clear, Lando knew that Oscar knew he had seen the post, and words were not necessary to be aware of a sudden and inevitable farewell.

Perhaps in another life, Lando told himself, the universe would give him the honour of being with Oscar with no regrets, immaturity or fears in between.