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Starry nights like these were the ones that enlightened Oscar's mind. Under night walks, light winds and white noises emitted by the treetops swaying in the breeze.
Oscar the shy one. Oscar the quiet one. Oscar the introvert.
He heard those words many times, those appellations that did nothing more than give a bitter taste to his palate and lead him to withdraw into his own world, away from the meaningless chatter of the world. Was he shy? Not at all; quiet? No, he was talkative and joking. He wasn't loud, but he wasn't quiet either; introverted? Maybe, but no one could blame him, it was his nature and it had to be validated. Because people were right, introverted people at least, who pointed out how society wished introverts would come out of their shell but never pointed out the insufferable talkative extroverts.
Lando was that type, a chatterbox. His mind wouldn't finish processing a thought when he was already uttering it, not measuring himself between how good it would be to express that idea or whether it would plunge him into the grave for exceeding the limit of what was considered "morally good". Sometimes he didn't exceed that limit, but people always pointed him out as Lando, the morally ungood one.
Still, there was a good chemistry between them. They were different, shocking at first. Lando became irritating for Oscar's little patience, too loud for a lover of silence, too swirling for a peaceful swell.
When there were arguments, Lando would tell him to fuck off and stomp his feet all the way down the road.
"You're a tantrum baby," Oscar once pointed out, and on Lando's forehead it adorned an annoyed furrow.
He got no response, and he took it as Lando agreeing with him.
Lando had his complexities too, and sometimes he hated it when Oscar was so quiet. It wasn't the Aussie's fault; he grew up in a home that was too hectic, dynamic, noisy, rowdy, among other synonyms that defined his family. But he was a laid-back kid, whose best defence was to strike back with a sarcastic remark and withdraw indifferently. He was never a troublemaker or anything like that. He was just Oscar, the quiet, shy, introverted one.
Lando, on the other hand, was loud and unruly. Lando was everything Oscar shied away from whenever he could, but he loved having his company. For Lando was a star, oscillating in space, twinkling in different colours, orbiting in hot fire that burns and offers warmth, that gives spectacles worth seeing.
At some point, he fell fervently in love with Lando. How his eyelashes danced every time his curious eyes flicked to something of interest. He fell in love with how his two front teeth had that slight, barely noticeable separation, the same one that Lando hated and made him feel insecure. Oscar fell in love with how Lando's green eyes glowed in shades of navy when they were tinged with red on weepy nights.
Or the sound of his laughter mingling with the echoes of the wind, like a mellifluous melody that snatches sighs.
Oscar fell in love with Lando because Lando taught him everything that was valuable in life. He found his way to a new space, never explored, like a new universe where things fit together, worked well.
Oscar didn't like metaphors, much less being idealistic. Lando was idealistic, never in between, always being too negative or too optimistic. And he said strange things, references that would sound absurd to someone his age.
"It's nice to be like this," he broke the silence, turning to look at Oscar with that laughing gleam.
"Like what?" asked Oscar, not understanding what he meant.
"Like this, with you" he shrugged, positioning himself on his back.
The ceiling of the hotel room was white, bland. There weren't that many decorations there, a minimalist, personality-less environment that had three pictures hanging on its walls and a vase of artificial flowers in the centre of some random table. Nothing else. The prototypical hotel room that only received tourists or foreigners.
Oscar also lay on his back and stared at the ceiling, copying Lando's actions to perhaps understand what his thoughts were on. He didn't remove his arm from around Lando's warm body, anyway, because being there cuddled up, their bodies glued together like a Gemini, was all he wanted.
"Well, it's nothing different from normal," Oscar murmured.
Lando turned to look at him, rolled his eyes and sighed heavily "God, Oscar, you're such a moment-killer sometimes" and laughed.
Just like that, the way Oscar liked it.
"I mean lying with you, quietly, not thinking about the races or what we're doing tomorrow" he explained, positioning himself on his side to caress Oscar's bare abdomen with the pad of his index finger. "It's like - it's like being in a meadow full of tulips that smell good and are so colourful that they intermingle with the sunset, they convey happiness and bliss."
Oscar hummed, somewhere between dismayed and amused. There they were, those strange comparisons that had a purpose to give off their sweetness and feelings. It was cute, because the way to show affection for Lando was to look for particularly beautiful situations, panoramas or scenery that associated with whatever he was feeling at the moment.
"I love you, Lando," Oscar kissed his forehead and pressed his body closer, not eager to lose contact for a second. Or for the rest of his life.
Oscar was less sentimental, more controlling of his feelings and ideas. He was a perceiver and registered the things that went through his head with ease, but Lando... with Lando it was another universe, where an ocean of feelings drowned him and drove him to explore the depths they harboured, so unknown that he never knew what to expect.
When Oscar was asked if he had ever been in love, he would say yes. Because he had fallen in love with the fussy, sassy Brit who was his teammate. The same one who had delighted everyone in the big Papaya family, the same one who had been there for him on his way to the top, guiding him, teaching him and sharing his experience.
Lando was not only there to help Oscar learn new things, but he also wanted to learn about Oscar; what made him up, what things he liked, his gestures and expressions. All of it.
Many people pointed out that Oscar had no personality, that he was boring, like a blank painting that never saw colour. And Lando was curious enough to pick up a paintbrush and trace neon watercolours to discover what artwork was hidden inside. Like the fact that Oscar liked to cook, even though he's bad at it and is a potential kitchen hazard - the firemen's nightmare. Or his fondness for watching movie and series marathons, then looking for curiosities about them and discussing them with those he cared about.
Oscar was also a secret lover of astronomy. Like, astrology seemed absurd to him and Lando decided to bother him with it from time to time (Scorpio behaviours, he once said to excuse himself). But astronomy was an undiscovered space that lent a sea of new experiences, a sea of life. And it was fun to think about the way it all had to be understood with thousands of mathematical calculations - unfortunately, Oscar was also a maths nerd.
It was no secret that he wanted to be an engineer in another life.
"You know what's crazy?" Lando asked.
Oscar looked up to pay attention to him, frowning at his posture on the single couch. One false move and he could fall over, furniture and all.
"No, I don't know," he replied.
In truth, nothing Lando said after he asked that question could surprise him. Each thing was crazier than the last, Oscar was starting to get used to it.
"That you like stars" Lando indicated what was already known, with that tone of obviousness ringing in his words.
Oscar nodded, because he'd known that information since... since he was an infant. Basically.
"Exactly... What's up with that?"
"Well, I don't know if you noticed, but your face is bathed in stars" Lando smiled triumphantly, proud of his comment.
Oscar laughed, confused (as usual) at the Brit's comments "What?"
Lando rolled his eyes "Oh God, where's your romanticism, mate? Your moles" he pointed, jaded, towards Oscar's face.
Beauty marks covered part of his cheeks subtly, noticeable but unnoticed if you didn't pay enough attention to them. But Lando liked to pay attention to those, small details, and it warmed Oscar's heart.
They kept that secret-not-so-secret relationship for years. The team never said anything, his personal trainers even less. The world around them seemed to understand it, to understand the affection that welled up from every particle of their bodies and was transmitted by words, light touches and deep glances. At some point they were wrapped in a bubble, with moments that began as furtive kisses and ended in giggly nights.
Under the warmth of the night's blanket, Oscar would kiss Lando's body and revel in the sound escaping his lips, inadequate moans and satisfied sighs. He would wrap his body under his, a few inches smaller (Lando would never admit it aloud), and their skins would clash hard, making his muscles tremble.
In their younger days, when they were just starting out, Oscar felt like a fucking schoolboy just hitting puberty and beginning his sex life. Because Lando would drag him into hidden spaces and they would kiss until they exceeded the limits of what was considered "modest", or even Oscar would make the request without directly pronouncing it and Lando would understand what his dirty intentions were. And as the years went by, those rough and wild encounters full of need, evolved into something softer, more sentimental. Bodies that already knew each other.
Lando and Oscar, both dressed in shades of orange, got to know each other in body and spirit. The world may have known, or at least suspected it, but they always kept to themselves and their opinions from the public eye. Oscar was reserved, but he never hid his love for Lando.
He would talk so much about him without tiring, he would talk until the end of his days about how much he adored Lando and the devotion that lingered in his heart and soul until the end of his days. Ridiculous as it sounded, he was not afraid. He, rightly, learned to say "bullshit" if it meant expressing his longing. Just as Lando did.
After his retirement, things got partially better. They moved in together, sometimes visited family in Australia, and his grandmother would bake the same biscuits she baked for the team in his debut year. His sisters would be happy and joking about him with Lando, and his parents would plan what they would do during their stay.
It was nice, he had never felt so happy in his life.
Even when the earth claimed Lando under its mantle. The days before that, in the hospital, trying to hold on to the touches of faith and prevail against the feeling of his weak touch.
"Don't be afraid, love," he reached out to caress Oscar's cheek. His fingertips still felt soft despite being rough and wrinkled, as soft as the tone of her voice. "You'll still be able to see my big ass when you look up at the sky."
Oscar guffawed, hiccuping from the cry that demanded to break and burst. His beloved, his precious Lando, bedridden, hooked up to wires and little hope of salvation.
"I love you, Osc" he said, in a whisper so faint it was barely audible.
Lando, the most enormous star in the galaxy. The same one that oscillated in space, the same one that flickered in different colours, the same one that orbited in hot fire that burned and offered warmth, the same one that gave spectacles worth seeing even after it faded.
The same star that exploded and sprinkled the galaxy with more cosmos. That even when it was no longer there, it was still shining, full of love.
Oh moon, white moon. Dear moon, lighting up the night and bathing the night spaces with light. You, moon, are you caring for Lando as much as Oscar asked you to? Is he shining beside you, shining for Oscar?
"I love you too, my Lando," he declared to the void.
But he knew Lando was there, listening to him in some space. In some other mirage where his spirit accompanied him on starry nights like those, where he cleared his mind and let his tears flow, missing his little star.
Lando, the one with tousled curls and dreamy eyes, who even without being physically present, his love and everything he offered remained on earth, accompanying Oscar, the shy one, the quiet one, the introverted one.