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Oscar was convinced someone had put a curse on him. Between poorly timed safety cars, blind Ferrari Pit Walls, and being crashed into, it was like he couldn’t catch a break.
The last time he felt as if luck had gone in his favor was way back in Australia when he had somehow avoided the carnage around him on the red flag restart to score his first points. Since then, it felt that if luck was going to come into play, he was going to be on the bad side of it.
Monza had been horrible, with Lewis colliding into him, ruining his race, when he had been on track for at least a few points, after having been undercut and touching wheels with his teammate. It had been a hard one to swallow, and had taken a few days to feel as if he was in the right headspace to race again.
Preparing for SIngapore had been a good distraction, and he had come into the weekend feeling good, despite knowing he was going to be a bit on the back foot compared to Lando in the upgraded car. Free practices had gone alright, each one leaving him feeling more confident and slightly higher up the timing board, and he was feeling cautiously optimistic about qualifying, and getting another top ten start.
Then Lance had crashed mere seconds before Oscar turned the final corner, his lap was aborted, and suddenly it was the beginning of the season all over again, when starting down in P17 was normal and expected. He was glad Lance was ok, truly, it had been a horrific crash and could have been so much worse, but still…
His lap hadn’t been great, but it would have been enough.
Tom had been sympathetic;
“Tough luck, I think we deserved more.”
Zak had slapped him on the back;
“Rotten, rotten luck, but that’s racing.”
Oscar knew Daniel had qualified P16 last year, knew Zak remembered that too.
Andrea had gripped him by the shoulders;
“It is ok, we will make a plan.”
Oscar just nodded numbly. Overtaking was hard in Singapore, and deployed Safety Cars had yet to go his way, why would they now. He tried to tell himself the lump in his throat was just a result of the hot and humid air.
He was ferried to the media pen, tried to rearrange his face into something neutral, said he was glad Lance was ok, and tried not to sound too bitter.
“Can you make your way back into the points tomorrow?”
No. Not with my luck. His brain provided.
“We’ll try.” He says instead.
Back to the garage to watch the rest of qualifying. He hopes the smile he tries to put on when Lando goes P4 doesn’t look too much like a grimace.
He watches as Liam knocks Max Verstappen out of qualifying in his third weekend as an F1 driver.
The energy in the garage shifts when Lando jumps out of the car, even Oscar’s mechanics happy, and quick to congratulate him. For his part, Oscar just hopes no one notices when he slips out the back to make his way back to his driver’s room. He won’t be needed until the engineering debrief and strategy meeting, which won’t be until after Lando gets done with his share of Media and accepts congratulations from every single person in the paddock.
It could be a while.
Being able to shut and lock his driver’s room door, reducing the commotion outside to a dull buzz is a relief. Sinking to the floor, back against the door, Oscar lets the neutral facade he’d been trying to maintain slip. His head feels heavy, the heat utterly oppressive, the humidity sinking into his bones turning them to lead. He blinked back the tickling in the corner of his eyes, swallowing down the lump in his throat.
He couldn’t have said how long he sat there, staring at a spot at the wall, letting the buzz outside dull into a thump against his temple. His mouth felt dry. When was the last time he had drunk some water? He couldn’t say, it didn’t feel that important anymore. He was going to spend the next day trundling around the back of the grid anyway, ‘peak physical condition’ didn’t really mean anything anymore.
A knock at his door snapped him back to reality, causing him to jump. He couldn’t bring himself to stand up though, his legs two boulders holding him down. There was another knock, then a rattle at the door knob. Oscar couldn’t help but wonder who it was. Kim, coming to scold him for not doing his cool down and shower routine? It was unlikely to be Tom or Andrea or Zak, they would be busy trying to maximize Lando’s weekend, and salvage his. Maybe one of his parents, Oscar hoped not, as much as he could use a ‘Mum hug’ he didn’t think he'd be able to hold it together in front of them. God he hoped it wasn’t Lando. It was by no means his teammates fault his day had gone like this, but Oscar really didn’t think he could face him just yet.
“Oscar?”
Oh, it was Mark. Mark, who Oscar was definitely sure was supposed to be off doing work for Channel Four and not rattling his driver’s room door handle with increased urgency.
“Oscar? Can you unlock the door mate?” Oscar lifted his heavy arm up to grab his phone from the shelf next to him. Had he really been sitting there for that long? A text from Andrea an hour ago told him the engineering and strategy meeting was scheduled for half-past-midnight, 15 minutes from now. A second text from 15 minutes ago asked him if he had seen the message.
He felt a large thump against the door, then another, as Mark started knocking loudly again. Using the shelf, Oscar hauled himself to his feet, feeling like he was dragging his whole body through mud. He unlocked the door and it immediately swung open, leaving him face to face with his mentor. He tried to school his expression into something that didn’t look like he was wallowing, but judging by the immediate concerned frown that worked its way across Mark’s face, he hadn’t done a very good job. He stepped back to let Mark come into the room, shutting the door again behind him.
“Andrea asked me to chase you down, he said you hadn’t responded to his message about the debrief.”
“I saw it.” Oscar tried to say, but what came out from his dry mouth was a cracked noise.
If anything, the concerned crease in Mark’s brow became even deeper. As he looked around the driver’s room.
“When’s the last time you had a drink? Where’s your water bottle?”
Oscar just shrugged, he had no idea. Mark clasped his hands down on Oscar’s shoulders, and for a moment, Oscar felt grounded again, the humidity seeping out of his head like a balloon.
“Look, Oscar, mate. I know today was tough, and it’s ok to be disappointed, but you have to take care of yourself. Have you done any of your cool down exercises? Ice bath?”
Oscar had spent all of 18 minutes on track, he didn’t think he deserved needed any of that. He settled for just shaking his head.
“Yeah I can tell you haven’t showered.” Mark was probably just trying to lighten the mood, but it drew Oscar’s attention back to the fact he was still in his race suit, top hanging around his waist. Mark busied himself with pulling cleanish clothes from the pile Oscar had left on the floor earlier that day, and passing over a can of deodorant.
“Here, this will just have to make-do in a pinch.” Oscar tried to pull off his fire-proof shirt as quickly as he could considering he still felt as if he was moving through mud. Mark helped peel the shirt off his back, tossing it into the corner of the room as Oscar sprayed himself with the deodorant.
A few minutes later, Mark was herding Oscar back out of his driver’s room towards the engineering meeting, hand pressed to the small of Oscar’s back as he led him through the corridor, stopping very briefly to grab a bottle of water in the hospitality suite, thrusting it into Oscar’s hands.
“Drink.” He commanded. Oscar fumbled with the lid, Mark let out a sigh and took the bottle back, opening the top before giving it back to Oscar. Oscar lifted the bottle to his lips, as soon as the cool water hit his lips, he realized how truly parched he was and started chugging.
“Hey, you’ll make yourself sick.” Mark gently pulled the water bottle away from his face, so it wouldn’t spill down Oscar’s chin. “Small sips ok.” Oscar nodded as Mark led him away from the hospitality room and towards the briefing room.
“Keep your chin up mate, we’ll talk later.” Mark whispered, patting Oscar’s back, leaving him to make his way into the meeting alone.
It seemed like nearly everyone was already there, the only person obviously missing was Lando, but it was normal for Lando to get held up by one of the hundreds of people who would want to stop and talk to him when he was trying to make his way across the paddock. Andrea was speaking to a couple of engineers, but caught Oscar’s eye as he came into the room, his brow also crinkling in concern, but not saying anything. Oscar took his seat next to Tom who was pouring over a data screen.
Lando followed, not a minute later, patting Oscar on the back as he walked past on the way around the table. It was probably meant to be comforting. The conversations in the room came to a halt as Lando took his seat and Andrea started talking. Oscar couldn’t find it in him to listen closely, nodding along at talk of alternate tyre strategy and whether it was likely a safety car could come out. Talk of Ferrari race pace, and how aggressive Red Bull were going to try to be off the line in the middle of the pack.
Just like in his driver’s room, the heat was stifling, the humidity building, sweat prickling at his skin. The heat bubble and the pressure building and building, his ears began ringing, getting louder and louder and all conversation drowned away.
“What do you think of that strategy Oscar?” His name made it past the buzzing in his ears, but nothing else. So he shrugged, it was probably fine. Whatever it was. He kept his focus on the screen in front of him.
“Oscar?” It was Andrea, his voice softer than Oscar had ever heard it.
The lump returned to his throat, the corners of his eyes beginning to tingle and the pressure grew more and more and more.
It was the pressure of a bad qualifying, being so out of position and not having the experience to know how to run a recovery race back to the points. It was a Mercedes veering into him in Monza, and bad strategy at Zandvoort. A red Ferrari in Spa and a broken floor in Hungary, a Haas on fire at Silverstone with a safety car at the wrong moment. It was a whole half season of a car that barely worked, or didn’t even work at all. It was food poisoning in Baku and a home crowd who wouldn’t let him forget whose spot he had taken. It was a broken wing and a car that shut down 14 laps into his first race.
Everything going wrong, constantly, almost nothing in his favor. The high moments, not defined by good luck, simply the lack of bad luck. McLaren rookies didn’t get the benefit of luck. Lewis had apparently used up their quota of it back in ‘07.
The screen in front of him was blurry. And something wet was on his face. Oh.
Don’tcrydon’tcrydon’tcrydon’tcry
It didn’t work.
Oscar buried his head in his hands trying to muffle the sobs threatening to break out. He didn’t succeed. He could feel the stares of the mechanics pierce into him. He heard the murmurs, before Andrea said something that had everyone around him getting up and leaving. For a second he assumed the room was empty, until someone dropped into Tom’s now empty seat next to him, placing a hand on his back.
“Oscar.” Ah, Andrea.
“Have you spoken to Jeremy?” He asked, talking about one of the rotating cast of sports psychologists McLaren brought to each race.
Oscar shook his head, as much as the team might parrot about the importance of mental health, he had seen what had happened to Daniel, and instead worked with his own sports psychologist away from McLaren’s logbooks.
“I do not believe this is about one unlucky qualifying session.” Andrea continued. Oscar wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement, so simply shrugged. Andrea gently tugged on Oscar’s shoulder, encouraging him to sit up and face him. It was then he noticed that Lando was still in the room, hovering anxiously a few steps away. Andrea searched Oscar’s face.
“I am going to call Jeremy and have him meet with you. We have a plan and we will do everything we can to maximize this race. Tonight, for you, speak to Jeremy, get something to eat and drink, and get some sleep. Tomorrow will be ok, regardless of the result. We do have faith in your abilities, Oscar.”
He kept his gaze on Oscar’s until Oscar nodded. Andrea gave him a half smile, patting his cheek as he stood, pulling his phone, dialing a contact as he walked out of the room. Oscar watched him leave, before looking back at the ground and shutting his eyes. He loved his job, he loved racing, but the idea of talking to a therapist and then racing a long difficult race just sounded terrible. He wouldn’t admit this out loud, but he just wanted to go home. Curl up and sleep for a hundred years.
“Hey.” Oscar couldn’t help but jump, so wrapped up in his thoughts that he had forgotten Lando was still in the room. Lando who had pulled a chair closer and was now sitting right in front of Oscar, eyes bearing into him with an intensity Oscar had never seen before.
“I’m not going to ask if you’re ok, because you’re not, and that’s ok and I hate it when people ask me that.”
Oscar just shrugged. He was aware he hadn’t actually said anything in a while, even to explain what was going on, but he wasn’t sure he’d actually be able to get the words out anyway.
Staying quiet was easier, safer, it was the state he had always been more comfortable in.
Lando tilted his head, making Oscar feel a little bit like a zoo animal. He couldn’t help but feel guilty, Lando had had a good day, was in a good position in the upgraded car, he deserved to be out celebrating, not sitting in a stuffy conference room with his crying rookie teammate.
“Look, maybe I’m totally off base here, but I don’t think I am, but this isn’t just about qualifying today. I think people forget how tough the first season is, but I haven’t, and I just want you to know that I do get it, and I don’t think there is any shame in being frustrated or disappointed or overwhelmed.” Lando’s expression was as intense as Oscar had ever seen it, Oscar had to avert his eyes in fear it would trigger a new wave of waterworks.
“I guess I just want you to know that I’m here for you, as is Andrea, and Tom, and the whole team. You wouldn’t be here if your abilities were in doubt, and we all care about you, Oscar, even in the tough moments, especially in the tough moments.”
Oh. Well if Oscar thought he had managed to get the tears under control, he was wrong, as he felt his eyes begin watering again, sniffing pathetically. Lando’s eyes widened, worried.
“Ah shit, I’m so bad at this.” He mumbled, Oscar wasn’t actually sure if he was addressing him, but shook his head, opening his mouth to speak again.
“No, uh no…” he managed to croak out before clearing his throat and trying again. “It wasn’t shit it was nice.”
His throat was dry again, and it felt like he was speaking around a frog. He hadn’t touched his half empty water bottle since coming into the meeting room, and the half he had drunk was definitely not enough for the humidity and heat of Singapore. Lando apparently had the same thought, as he immediately grabbed Oscar’s water from the desk, pushing it into his hand.
“Have you had anything to eat or drink since getting out of the car?” Lando asked, concern lacing into his voice again. Oscar lifted his water bottle, half way through untwisting the cap,
“This.” He huffed out, as he lifted the bottle to drink.
“That’s it? Seriously?” Oscar shrugged as he took a sip, mindful of Mark’s warnings to not make himself water sick.
“Not like I was in the car very long.” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his now slightly clearer voice. Obviously he didn’t do very well, because Lando’s face softened, even as the concern in his brow grew even deeper.
“You were in there long enough for half a bottle of water to not be enough.” Oscar just shrugged, but took another sip. Lando tilted his head, his expression becoming intense again.
“You don’t have to punish yourself.” Oscar almost dropped the bottle.
“I’m not…” Lando shook his head,
“You are.” He interrupted. “Maybe not intentionally but you are and you do.” Oscar averted his eyes once more. Maybe he thought no one would notice his little masochistic streak, but Lando was more observant than people gave him credit for. He was usually able to hide it behind the calm and relaxed persona he portrayed, but he wasn’t surprised Lando could see right through it.
“Yeah…maybe.” He left it at that, not wanting to give Lando the ammunition of being right.
“Don’t you have other things to be doing other than sitting here?” Oscar asked, hoping his tone didn’t come across as too sarcastic. Thankfully Lando seemed to ignore it,
“I mean I’m sure the engineers have all reconvened by now, but I’ll run through the plans with Will tomorrow, no biggie, you’re more important right now.”
Oscar didn’t really know how to respond to that. He and Lando got along well, and were at the point where they might even call each other friends, but this was the most openly affectionate and caring Lando had ever been with him.
“Oh. Ok.” Was all he was able to say in response. Lando shot him a small grin, patting Oscar’s knee.
“C’mon you need to eat something and drink about 500 bottles of gatorade.” Lando stood up, looking at Oscar expectedly. Oscar searched deep for the energy to pull himself to his feet.
Once standing, however, he felt the exhaustion, the emotional turmoil, the dehydration, and the hunger he hadn’t even noticed all rush to his head at once, and he suddenly felt a wave of dizziness rush over him, as stars gathered in his vision, and he felt himself waver where he stood.
“Woah buddy.” Lando’s voice was accompanied by his hand shooting out to grab Oscar by the arm, steadying him as Oscar blinked the stars out of his eyes.
“You good? Not about to pass out on me?”
“Yeah, um, yeah, sorry.” Oscar apologized.
“Don’t apologize, c’mon.” With that, Lando kept his hand wrapped around Oscar’s bicep, leading him out of the room and towards the kitchen, sitting him in the first available seat. The catering staff was gone, but Oscar knew that it was likely his dietician-approved dinner had been prepared and boxed for him after he didn’t show up, and Lando went off on the hunt to find it, but not before putting a bottle of gatorade in front of him.
“Drink it.” Lando ordered, unscrewing the cap before heading off into the kitchen to hunt down Oscar’s dinner.
Oscar sipped at his drink as he listened to Lando bumble about, before the sound of the microwave began to run.
It was bizarre, he had never seen Lando like this, seen him show so much open concern for him. It was nice in a way. Oscar was so good at schooling his emotions, so good at presenting a relaxed front, like he was perpetually unfazed, and always calm, that people rarely caught on when he was actually struggling.
People were so used to him being perfectly capable at looking after himself, that no one ever offered to take some of the burden for him. But having Mark, and then Andrea, and now Lando reassuring him, and making sure he was drinking and heating up his dinner for him, it was just nice, it felt like some of the weight had fallen off his shoulders. Sure he had Kim, but that was all part of his job. Lando had absolutely no obligation to do anything more than maybe tell Kim he hadn’t eaten in a while.
The gatorade was half gone when Lando reemerged, holding the cardboard container with Oscar’s reheated grilled chickens and steamed vegetables in it. He nodded approvingly at the drink, which just added to the slightly bizarre nature of this whole affair.
Lando set the tray in front of Oscar, sliding into the seat across from him as Oscar picked up his fork.
“Thank you.” Oscar said, hoping Lando knew he meant for more than just sticking his food in the microwave. Lando’s face softened as he smiled at Oscar,
“Anytime, I mean it.” And Oscar knew he understood.
“You don’t have to sit here and watch me eat.”
“I think I do.” And Oscar knew Lando was more perceptive than anyone gave him credit for. Oscar picked up his food and started eating small bites, cutting each piece as small as he could. He wasn’t very hungry, not after the emotional whiplash of the whole afternoon, and the food felt unsettled in his stomach. He still didn’t quite believe he deserved it. But he owed it to Lando and he owed it to the team to try.
He ate in silence, Lando watching on, it was a little uncomfortable, but Lando had grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl so at least it didn’t feel totally like he was just monitoring Oscar eat, which was horrible in Oscar’s experience, it was nice to not be alone, however. He was about half way through, and contemplating if he could get away with throwing the rest of the soggy vegetables out, when the door opened, and Jeremy walked in.
“I think that’s my cue.” Lando said, standing. He suddenly looked a little awkward like he wasn’t sure if he should just leave, or draw Oscar into a hug. He eventually settled on giving Oscar’s arm another squeeze.
“I’ll see you tomorrow. New day, new chances ‘n’ all that.” With that, Oscar watched as Lando walked out of the motorhome, patting Jeremy on the shoulder as they passed each other.
The next day came far too quickly for Oscar’s liking and it wasn’t long until he was walking out to the grid for the race.
Kim hadn’t been thrilled with the whole ‘post qualifying dehydration and skipping on a proper cool down’ act, so Oscar had found himself stuck in his driver’s room with his physio all morning to try and make up for it with the race preparation. His little talk with Jeremy the previous night truly hadn’t been particularly helpful, it wasn’t like Oscar didn’t know that disappointment was inevitable in sport, and he was pretty good already at switching his mindset right before each session, but when Andrea had talked to him earlier that afternoon he had promised that it had helped and he was ready to race. The second part was true at least.
He didn’t have much hope of getting into the points, but he owed it to the team and to Lando especially to not give up so easily, as much as he was ready for the weekend to end.
The race went well.
Oscar passed three people on the first lap alone, got lucky with a safety car (for once) and gained 10 positions. He wasn’t Lando shining bright on the podium, but after how shit the weekend had been, he couldn’t help but be relieved. The garage was pretty much empty when he got back, the whole team down at the podium celebration, but he was able to go through his post-race cool down with Kim. Much to Kim’s relief.
He got a congratulatory text from Mark, who was recording for Channel Four again. Once the rest of the McLaren staff began filtering back in, he ran into Zak who patted him on the back,
“Great job, knew you had it in you.” He said.
Oscar knew the smile on his face was more for Lando, but maybe he had proved he was good enough to keep around, for now anyway.
Andrea pulled him into a tight hug. It wasn’t the first time Andrea had hugged him after a race, but it wasn’t a regular occurrence, and never this tight.
“Very good, very very good.” It did feel a little like he was placating a child, but Oscar had broken down in hysterical tears in front of half the staff yesterday, so he couldn’t help but feel that it was maybe a little but warranted. He wasn’t big into being touched, but he couldn’t deny that in that moment the hug was nice.
He wondered if Lando would hug him, he had seen on the screens him and Carlos hugging after the race. Maybe it would be nice to be on the receiving end of that.
He wasn’t Carlos though, and maybe he and Lando were friends now, but he couldn’t say they were there yet in their relationship. He pushed the thought out of his mind, nodding when Andrea let him know when and where the post race briefing would be.
He had some time to kill, Lando was still in the media pen, having just finished the press conference, and the meeting wouldn’t be until after he had gone through his post race activities and taken the team picture.
Oscar lay on his massage bed, maybe he could squeeze in a nap or something before then.
He closed his eyes, but the little voice that had roared its ugly head yesterday whispered in the back of his mind once more.
P17 to P7, that was pretty good right? Maybe not. Maybe it could have been better. It was damage control, it wasn’t good.
He knew Daniel had finished P5 last year. He should have matched that for it to be a true recovery drive his subconscious offered.
That was a wet race, the circumstances were so different. Another section of his brain offered up.
No excuses, you only got this because of Esteban’s car breaking down and George crashing into a wall. The ugly part of his brain responded
Racing is like that, luck just happened to be on our side for once. The more rational part argued.
Still not good enough. Still not good enough. Still not good enough.
Oscar could hear the mantra with each heartbeat. He didn’t know why. With the qualifying yesterday he understood why his brain had betrayed him, dragging up each and every disappointment he had faced all season, but logically he knew there was nothing to be ashamed of with this result.
But his teammate had gotten yet another podium, and although Oscar knew he wasn’t expected to match Lando this year-or even next year- he couldn’t help but feel as if he wasn’t doing his part.
Annoyingly he felt hot tears gather in his eyes and trickle down his face again. He was not normally a crier, yet here he was for the second time in two days.
He needed this weekend to end.
With no one around, he let the tears fall freely, muffling his cries in the sweatshirt he was using as a pillow. He wasn’t sure how long he lay there for, allowing himself to wallow in this bizarre self pity, but he wanted to get it all out of his system before he had to face all the engineers he had sobbed in front of yesterday. Everyone had been nice enough to not bring it up that day, but Oscar thought he might die of embarrassment if he sobbed his way through two meetings in a row.
There was a knock at his driver's room door.
“Oscar?” Oh.
Lando was back.
Oscar knew his teammate well enough at this point to know he wouldn’t appreciate being knowingly ignored. He sat up scrubbing his face with his hands, hoping it would at least get rid of the tear marks, and then he could explain away the red eyes as exhaustion. There was another knock at the door,
“I know you’re in there and the light’s on so I doubt you’re asleep.”
“Um, yeah, coming.” Oscar grimaced at how croaky his voice had gotten, even though he had been doing much better at keeping up with his hydration that night. He slipped off the bed, padding over to the door, hoping Lando would be so drunk off post race glory he wouldn’t read Oscar’s face correctly.
Oscar should have guessed that after yesterday Lando would see straight through him.
As soon as he opened the door, it only took about 5 seconds for Lando’s beaming smile and glittering eyes to drop into a mirror of the concerned expression he had worn the day before.
And if Oscar hadn’t already felt ridiculous before, he now felt downright guilty, Lando deserved to be celebrating his success, not worrying over Oscar.
“Congrats.” Oscar tried to plaster on a smile and hoped it looked sincere, because it was. “Really great job out there.”
“Thanks, I came to say the same. That was a really strong finish from where you started, you should be happy, the team is thrilled for you.” Oscar could only shrug.
“Oh Osc, can I come in?”
Oscar wanted to tell him no, don’t worry about me, go celebrate. But instead he stood back letting Lando in.
Lando closed the door and examined Oscar, who once again felt like some kind of zoo animal. He had to avert his eyes, staring at a spot of peeling paint on the door, doing some deep breathing to keep the stubborn tears at bay.
“It really is a good result Oscar, it’s hard to do here.” Oscar shrugged, not lifting his eyes,
“I didn’t do much to be honest, just had to wait for everyone ahead of me to crash into a wall or whatever.”
“Ten people didn’t crash Oscar, I rewatched the first couple laps already, you had a brilliant start, you deserve the points and the success.”
“Yeah, I mean, yeah I know the result is good, you know, logically. I’m just ready for the weekend to end I think.” Oscar said. Lando chuckled,
“I know emotions aren’t always logical but I’ve never seen you like this, I spent all night last night worrying about you.” Oscar glanced up, finally meeting Lando’s eyes.
“Oh.” Was the only thing he could think to say. Lando sighed,
“Look I know you aren’t big into touchy feely moments, but you look like you need a hug, and I think I really need to give you a hug, if that’s ok.”
Lando looked uncharacteristically nervous, obviously not used to having to ask permission to initiate affection, but Oscar could tell, desperately not wanting to freak Oscar out. Oscar thought about how Lando had hugged Carlos, and now he wanted to do the same with Oscar. Even 5 months ago, Oscar couldn’t have imagined him and Carlos getting even remotely similar attention from Lando, and all he could do was nod.
“Um.. yeah, that’s fine.” A pleased expression crossed Lando’s face before Oscar suddenly found arms around him pulling him into a tight hug, smashing Oscar’s face into his shoulder.
He managed to get his arms around Lando, hoping he didn’t feel too much like a recently animated statue.
He could feel the tears prickling in his eyes once more, and although he once again tried to hold them in, they were soon falling down his face, and soaking into the shoulder of Lando’s fireproof shirt. Lando pulled him impossibly closer, rubbing small circles into his back.
“It’s ok, the weekend is over and next week is going to be better. I can feel it. Your time will come, but for now you’re doing just fine, Osc I promise.”
Oscar nodded into Lando’s shoulder. He believed him, logically he had never expected anything different, but maybe the small voice in his head would figure that out at some point soon too. He felt the tears slow, and the quiet sobs eventually ended and he pulled away from Lando. Lando gave him a soft smile, passing him his water bottle from where it was on the counter and wetting a small rag which he gave Oscar to wash the tears from his face.
“They’re probably waiting for us to take the group picture. The team is really happy with the results, like.. really, really happy. You ready to face them?” Lando asked. Oscar gave him a soft smile and nodded.
The weekend was almost over, he would soon get to leave Singapore and the heat that warped his bones, and he believed Lando when he said things would be better.