Chapter Text
"We both know this can't go on forever," Carlos says suddenly.
Lando freezes in the middle of the room with a hoodie in his hands, still not wearing it.
“What are you talking about?” he wants to believe that Carlos is not talking about what Lando has been thinking about for several months. Or maybe a year. Or even since Carlos joined Ferrari.
“About this... About us...” Carlos stammers, not knowing what to call the whole situation.
Lando winces as he continues to dress. Great. Four years of their relationship, yes, difficult and roller–coaster-like, but a relationship; and now he wants to end it all. Basically, this is not the first time they had a "break", but this time it feels... in a different way?
“Why? I thought everything was fine.” Lando grumbles, an unpleasant feeling arises inside, which he wants to cover with sarcasm and indifference. Of course, when Carlos is sitting on the bed looking like it wasn't him ten minutes ago moaning his name and whispering how beautiful he is, and for Lando it's just... too much.
“Don't say that,” Carlos frowns. “I've been thinking about it for a long time... It can't go on like this, you know?”
“How? I don't understand what happened, Carlos,” maybe Lando's voice sounds irritated and a little rough, and he understands perfectly well what Carlos is talking about. They will never make their relationship public, at least Carlos is for sure, and Lando did not plan to declare alone to the whole world that he is gay. For Carlos, reputation and his place in this fucking Ferrari have always been important. Since he moved there, their relationship has become strained. Lando was constantly trying to cope with his stupid feelings and not be jealous of his boyfriend for Charles, repeating to himself that they were just teammates. But on the other hand, he and Carlos were teammates too. However, not only in Formula 1, but also in bed. “Damn, is that what this is about, Carlos?”
Carlos looks up at him in disbelief. What the hell had he been imagining already?
“What are you talking about?”
“Did you start this whole conversation to leave me? For Charles? Right?” His voice falters a little, and Lando bites his lip to keep from bursting into tears right there. Carlos hasn't confirmed anything, but he doesn't need to. The realization abruptly covers his brain, forcing him to scroll through everything that has happened in the last six months.
“Charles? What?” Carlos quickly gets out of bed, walks over to him, cupping the younger's face in his hands, gently forcing him to look at him. “What does Charles have to do with it? You know he's just my teammate, right? What makes you think that something has changed?”
“If it's not him, then who is it?" The brit snorts irritably, looking away so that Carlos doesn't see the tears coming.
“God, baby, what makes you think that I have someone besides you?” The elder's voice softens noticeably.
“Then why? I don't understand,” Lando is at a loss.
“You know we can never really be together. I can't risk us, you, your career...”
“And your career too,” the younger grumbles with displeasure, again remembering the reason for their quarrels in the last three years.
“Yes, and my career too, I won't hide it,” Carlos sighs heavily. Of course, it's all very romantic – coming out, public relationship, but no one knows how it will affect their careers.
“Then why can't we just leave it as it is? I'm not making you kiss me in the middle of the paddock,” Lando gives up as Carlos wraps his arms around his waist, gently pulling him towards him.
“There have been too many rumors lately... I thought you knew? Or does the McLaren press office not inform you about this?”
“I don't care about the rumors, you know that very well. Fans like to exaggerate, everyone knows that, and for so many years you didn't really care either, what happened now?”
“I don't want to stop you from finding someone you can really be with without hiding somewhere, okay? I can see what this means to you, but it can't go on like this forever. We fight about it, I see how much it hurts you, and then it affects your performances, and mine too.” the spaniard sighs heavily, “I guess I'm just tired, you know?”
The pause drags on. Lando understands, but damn, he's so used to it that it doesn't bother him anymore. He was used to making up excuses, used to sneaking into his room at night and falling asleep in his arms.
Suddenly, he understands.
Maybe it's really just a habit.
“I get it,” Lando says quietly, extricating himself from the elder's embrace. Carlos wants to say something, but he no longer wants to listen to him, find out something, try to fix something. He must be tired too. “I'll... go. You don't have to walk me out,” the brit grins sadly, grabbing the phone from the bedside table and quickly puts on his shoes.
“Lando...” Carlos sighs heavily.
“You're right, Carlos, it's better for everyone.” Probably the last thing the younger one could squeeze out of himself in a more or less calm tone. The urge to cry still wouldn't leave him.
He leaves the room with the desire to get to his hotel as soon as possible and go to bed, not wanting to see anyone. Therefore, as soon as he crosses the threshold of his room, Lando lies down on the bed without even undressing. And it seems that only now does he understand what happened.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
They were together for four years. Their relationship may not have been perfect, but who is perfect, right?
And now he has given up everything himself. Probably because of his stupid pride. Or was he tired of it too, deep down?
He doesn't want to think about it. He doesn't want to blame himself for not being good enough again, even though Carlos always convinced him otherwise.
Lando doesn't even notice that he's crying. Just tears of resentment and chagrin. And he doesn't want anyone to disturb his "let-me-cry-over-parting-like-a-teen-girl" state at all.
But it seems like someone who's knocking on the door right now doesn't care.
Lando sighs heavily, hoping that this someone will now think that he is not there and leave, but a minute later there is another knock. He has to open it.
“What are you doing here, Oscar?” Lando doesn't want to sound so annoyed and angry at his teammate, but it just happens that way.
“Oh, uhm… hello to you, too," he clearly didn't expect such a reaction, "We tried to call you, but you didn't answer, so I decided...”
“I'm fine, as you can see, I'm alive,” the brit still can't get rid of the irritation in his voice, although he's not mad at Oscar. Well, maybe just a little bit.
“I can see that you are upset,” the younger frowns, noticing swollen eyes and still wet with tears cheeks. “I know it's none of my business, but...”
“Come in,” unexpectedly, even for himself, Lando pulls Oscar by the shirt, dragging him into his room.
They weren't close. It had been six months since Oscar had become his partner, but he still seemed somehow closed, awkward and slow to Lando. Of course, the last point was only about his life off the track. It was much easier with Carlos and Daniel, because Lando was the younger partner who had to be looked after. Now that everything had changed and he had the role of a responsible "big brother", he didn't really like it. But Oscar was there anyway... cute. In some way. He respected Lando and his unexpected outbursts of joy or aggression, and always listened to his stupid chatter in between training and racing. Previously, Carlos had successfully coped with this task, but in the last six months they had seen much less of each other, and imperceptibly this role had passed to Oscar.
Give him an Oscar for successfully coping with it.
It's a silly joke, but Lando even chuckles a little.
Oscar is even more embarrassed.
Lando seems to be completely lost in his thoughts when he notices the quiet australian next to him. Oscar waits patiently, as he always does, for Lando to speak again and decide to share his thoughts. Or not. He would laugh it off again, as he had done so many times when it seemed to Oscar that the ice was slowly melting between them.
Although there was probably a huge iceberg inside Lando, and it would take another hundred years for him to begin to trust his new teammate at least a little as he trusted Carlos or Daniel.
“I'm sorry, I just… was thinking.” Lando is the first to break the silence by slapping the spot on the bed next to him, urging the younger one to sit down. Oscar passes awkwardly, sitting down on the edge. “Oh, my God, I'm not going to bite you,” the brit rolls his eyes. His usual mood is slowly returning again.
“Why... Why do you-”
“Forget it. Nothing important. Just... Let's play Mario Kart or something, otherwise I'll go crazy,” the elder awkwardly averts his eyes. He is sitting on the bed, hunched over and hugging his knees, and Oscar feels like he has never seen him so small and broken.
“Okay, yeah, okay, of course,” Oscar fusses a little, he still feels like he's not the one his teammate needs right now. “Uhm... Would you like to order something to eat?”
“Pizza?”
“Okay.”
The evening is so strangely comfortable that Oscar doesn't even want to go back to his room. He thinks that it's one o'clock in the morning, their regime is down, the pizza is eaten, and they both will be scolded tomorrow. But that will be tomorrow, right? And now he wants to sit here, watch Lando sitting in his big hoodie, smiling softly at the TV screen, forgetting (at least for a while) the reason for his frustration.
Thanks to Oscar.
Oscar doesn't want to leave. And it seems that Lando has plans for him when, an hour later, they are lying on the bed together, chatting about everything.
Oscar likes to hear his quiet laughter when he tells stories from his childhood, about his family, sisters. Lando shares his stories too.
There is some stupid show on TV, and they are distracted from talking by some episode. And when Oscar wants to say something again, he notices that Lando is asleep.
God, how cute and relaxed he looks when he sleeps. When he's not trying to be cooler, older and more experienced.
Oscar thinks that now is probably the best time to leave. No silly and awkward goodbyes. He covers the elder with a blanket, turns off the TV and quietly puts on his shoes.
“Hey,” he hears Lando's voice, hoarse from sleep, behind him, “I didn't think you were the kind of person who didn't stay the night.”
Lando thinks how terribly he tries to joke when he first wakes up. He also thinks about why he doesn't want Oscar to leave.
“And you, uh...do you want... Do you want me to stay?” Oscar seemed to be holding his breath.
“God, just come here,” Lando grumbles, clearly unhappy that he has to wait and persuade his teammate. “And take off your stupid shorts, it's uncomfortable to sleep in this,” of course, it's uncomfortable to sleep. When did he become so caring?
Lando himself hastily disentangles himself from the blanket, undressing. The hoodie still smells like Carlos, and he's only noticing it now. Damn. But Oscar did a really good job with his task for the evening – Lando did not even remember about their breakup.
Meanwhile, Oscar also gets rid of clothes and diving under blanket. He's a little embarrassed. Okay, not a little at all. It's very strange to sleep in the same bed with your teammate. Of course, this happened to the guys from Prema when they had something like sleepovers together, but it wasn't like that.
But what makes him even more out of his usual state of balance is that Lando hugs him, settling down on the side. Oscar awkwardly hugs him back with one hand.
“Good night,” the elder mutters, already sinking back into sleep.
Oscar prays that Lando will not wake up from the pounding of his heart, which seems to be jumping out of his chest.
“Good night,” the younger one answers quietly, unexpectedly falling asleep too.