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The air was electric, alive with the familiar hum of engines roaring to life and the sharp, acrid scent of burning rubber hanging in the atmosphere. For Oscar, the scene was familiar, almost comforting. He had spent years surrounded by this world, but today wasn’t about him. Today was about Logan.
Standing by the edge of the pit lane, Oscar shifted his weight, his McLaren-branded jacket pulled tightly against the crisp morning breeze. His eyes were glued to Logan, who was suited up in the navy and white of the IndyCar test team, helmet tucked under one arm. Logan was deep in conversation with an engineer, gesturing animatedly toward the car in front of him.
Oscar couldn’t help but smile. This was the Logan he’d fallen in love with—the one who lit up at the mere sight of a racing car, who talked for hours about setups, strategies, and shaving milliseconds off lap times. Seeing him like this, back in his element, filled Oscar with a warmth that spread through his chest.
The past few months had been anything but easy. Watching Logan lose his F1 seat and spiral into depression had been one of the hardest things Oscar had ever experienced. But now, seeing him stand here, so close to a second chance, was nothing short of a miracle.
“Looks good out there, doesn’t he?”
Oscar turned to find Alex Albon standing beside him, a knowing grin on his face. Alex had been a quiet but steady source of support for Logan during his time in the paddock, someone who understood the pressures of losing a seat all too well.
“Yeah,” Oscar replied, his gaze returning to Logan. “He really does.”
There was a pause, the kind that came when neither of them needed to fill the space with words. Instead, they watched as Logan climbed into the car, the engineers bustling around him to secure his belts and make last-minute adjustments.
As the engine fired to life, a visceral, guttural growl that echoed down the pit lane, Oscar felt a thrill of pride swell in his chest. Logan gave a thumbs-up to the crew before the car rolled forward, inching toward the track.
Oscar stepped closer to the edge of the pit lane, his hands shoved deep into his pockets to keep them from trembling. He could feel Alex’s presence beside him, a steadying force, but all his focus was on Logan as he took to the track.
The car roared past in a blur of motion, and for a moment, Oscar forgot to breathe. He leaned forward, his eyes tracking Logan as he navigated the circuit with precision and speed. The sound of the engine rising and falling with each corner sent a shiver down Oscar’s spine, a reminder of just how talented Logan truly was.
“He’s got it,” Alex said softly, almost to himself.
Oscar nodded, his throat tight with emotion. “Yeah. He does.”
As Logan completed lap after lap, his times began appearing on the screens around the pit lane. Each one was faster than the last, a testament to Logan’s adaptability and sheer determination. Engineers murmured to each other, their expressions shifting from mild interest to genuine approval.
When Logan finally pulled back into the pit lane after a blisteringly quick lap, the crew erupted into applause. Oscar could barely contain his grin as he watched Logan climb out of the car, his helmet held high above his head in celebration. For the first time in months, Logan looked genuinely happy.
From the sidelines, Oscar watched as Logan’s confidence grew with each passing moment. The spark that had dimmed during those dark months was back, burning brighter than ever. And in that moment, Oscar knew that every tear, every sleepless night, and every whispered reassurance had been worth it. Oscar could still remember those times as if they were yesterday.
--
The email came on a quiet Tuesday morning, but for Logan, it felt like the entire world had shattered. He was sitting at the dining table in his apartment, the faint hum of the refrigerator the only sound breaking the silence. His hands trembled as he reread the words on his phone, the kind of cold, impersonal message that made it feel like he was nothing more than a statistic.
“A decision has been made regarding our driver lineup. Thank you for your contributions, but we will be parting ways.”
The coffee in his mug had long gone cold, untouched as the realisation slowly settled over him. The dream he had fought so hard to achieve, the countless hours spent sacrificing, training, and enduring—gone in just a few short lines of text.
When Oscar found him hours later, Logan hadn’t moved. The light outside had shifted from morning to afternoon, casting long shadows across the floor, but Logan remained frozen, his phone still clutched in his hand.
“Logan?” Oscar’s voice was soft, but it carried the weight of concern. He dropped his bag by the door and crossed the room in a few quick strides. Kneeling in front of Logan, he reached out, brushing a hand gently over Logan’s knee. “Hey. What’s going on?”
Logan blinked slowly, his gaze finally shifting to meet Oscar’s. His eyes were red-rimmed, hollow, and glassy, like someone who hadn’t slept in days. “I… I got an email,” he croaked, his voice barely audible.
Oscar frowned, his hand tightening slightly on Logan’s knee. “What kind of email?”
Logan swallowed hard, his throat tightening painfully. He glanced at his phone, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words again. Instead, he handed it to Oscar, who took it with a furrowed brow.
As Oscar read the email, his expression darkened, a mix of disbelief and anger flashing across his face. He set the phone down carefully on the table before looking back at Logan.
“Logan, I’m so sorry,” Oscar said, his voice heavy with emotion. He leaned forward, resting his hands over Logan’s. “This isn’t fair. You didn’t deserve this.”
Logan’s lips quivered, his eyes filling with tears that he refused to let fall. “Maybe I did,” he whispered. “Maybe I wasn’t good enough.”
“No,” Oscar said firmly, shaking his head. “Don’t you ever say that. You worked harder than anyone else to get here, Loges. This isn’t about you. This is about them not seeing what they had.”
The words broke something in Logan, and the tears he’d been holding back spilled over. He covered his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking as he let out quiet, gut-wrenching sobs.
Without hesitation, Oscar moved closer, wrapping his arms tightly around Logan. “Come here,” he murmured, pulling Logan against his chest. He held him like that for a long time, his chin resting gently on top of Logan’s head.
Logan clung to him, his fingers twisting in the fabric of Oscar’s hoodie. The warmth of Oscar’s embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, was the only thing keeping Logan from completely falling apart.
“It’s okay,” Oscar whispered, pressing a kiss to the crown of Logan’s head. “I’ve got you. You’re not alone in this.”
When Logan’s sobs finally subsided, he leaned back slightly, his face flushed and damp with tears. He looked down at their joined hands, his thumb absently tracing over Oscar’s knuckles.
“Thank you,” Logan murmured, his voice thick with emotion.
“You don’t have to thank me,” Oscar replied softly. He lifted one of Logan’s hands to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it. “We’re in this together, remember?”
That night, Logan barely spoke. He sat curled up on the couch, staring blankly at the television, his legs tucked under him. Oscar joined him, sitting close enough that their shoulders touched. After a few minutes, Logan leaned into him, resting his head against Oscar’s chest.
“Can we just stay like this?” Logan asked quietly, his voice almost childlike in its vulnerability.
“Of course,” Oscar replied, wrapping an arm around Logan’s shoulders and pulling him closer. He rested his cheek against Logan’s hair, holding him in a cocoon of warmth and safety.
The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that spoke louder than words, a reminder that Logan didn’t have to carry this alone.
In the following days, Oscar became Logan’s anchor. He made sure Logan ate at least one proper meal a day, coaxing him to the table with a soft smile and gentle persistence. At night, when Logan couldn’t sleep, Oscar stayed up with him, holding him close and rubbing soothing circles on his back until the tension in his body began to ease.
One particularly rough evening, Logan sat on the edge of the bed, his shoulders hunched as he stared down at his hands. Oscar knelt in front of him, cupping Logan’s face in his hands.
“Talk to me,” Oscar said softly, his thumbs brushing over Logan’s cheekbones.
Logan closed his eyes, leaning into the touch. “It just hurts,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “It hurts so much, and I don’t know how to make it stop.”
Oscar pressed his forehead against Logan’s, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. “I know it does,” he whispered. “And I wish I could take it all away. But I’m here, Logan. I’ll always be here.”
For a long moment, they stayed like that, their foreheads pressed together, the intimacy of the moment grounding Logan in a way words never could.
That night, as they lay in bed, Logan shifted closer, seeking out Oscar’s warmth. Without a word, Oscar wrapped his arms around him, holding him tightly. Logan buried his face in Oscar’s chest, his fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt.
“I love you,” Logan whispered, his voice muffled but sincere.
Oscar pressed a kiss to Logan’s forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “I love you too,” he replied, his voice steady and full of conviction.
--
Logan was still buzzing with adrenaline as he climbed out of the car, his face flushed and hair damp with sweat. The roar of the engine had faded, but the pounding of his heart remained. He pulled off his helmet and balaclava, a grin breaking across his face as he looked toward the pit wall where Oscar stood, his hands cupped around his mouth to cheer louder.
“Logan!” Oscar called, jogging toward him as Logan stepped away from the car.
The moment Logan was within reach, Oscar wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug. The embrace was brief but full of warmth, and when they pulled apart, Oscar’s hands lingered on Logan’s shoulders, his smile as bright as the afternoon sun.
“You were incredible,” Oscar said, his voice full of pride. “I’ve never seen you drive like that.”
Logan shrugged, though the slight blush rising in his cheeks betrayed how much the compliment meant to him. “It felt good,” he admitted, his grin widening. “Really good.”
Oscar’s eyes softened, and he reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from Logan’s forehead. “I could see it. That spark—that fire—it’s back.”
Logan’s throat tightened at the words. For so long, he’d doubted whether he would ever feel this alive again, whether the passion he once had for racing could ever be reignited. But today, with the roar of the engine and the rush of speed, he felt like himself again.
As the team congratulated Logan and discussed his performance, Oscar stayed by his side, his presence a steady anchor in the whirlwind of excitement. He noticed the way Logan’s smile didn’t falter, the way his laugh came easier, and the way his shoulders, so often hunched with the weight of doubt, were now relaxed.
By the time they left the track, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. Oscar glanced at Logan as they walked to the car, his heart swelling at the sight of Logan’s genuine happiness.
“Where to now Oz?” Logan asked, his voice light and teasing as he slid into the passenger seat.
“You’ll see,” Oscar replied with a smirk, starting the car.
They arrived at a small, tucked-away restaurant in the heart of the city, one of Oscar’s favourite spots he’d discovered on a trip years ago. It wasn’t flashy or extravagant, but it had a cozy charm that Oscar knew Logan would appreciate.
The hostess greeted them warmly and led them to a corner table by the window. The soft glow of string lights overhead gave the room a warm, intimate ambiance, and Logan glanced around, taking it all in.
“This is nice,” Logan said, his voice quieter now. He reached across the table, his fingers brushing against Oscar’s.
“I thought you’d like it,” Oscar replied, smiling as he laced his fingers with Logan’s. “You deserve this. You deserve to celebrate.”
They ordered their meals, the conversation flowing easily as they waited. For the first time in weeks, Logan didn’t feel the weight of doubt pressing down on him. He leaned back in his chair, watching as Oscar animatedly recounted a story from his own racing career, and Logan felt a pang of gratitude so strong it almost overwhelmed him.
At some point during the meal, Logan reached across the table, taking Oscar’s hand in his own. “I wouldn’t be here without you,” he said, his voice soft but steady.
Oscar tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly. “Logan, you did this. You got here because of your talent and your determination.”
Logan shook his head, his grip on Oscar’s hand tightening slightly. “Maybe. But I wouldn’t have had the strength to keep going if it weren’t for you.” He paused, his gaze dropping to their joined hands. “You were there when I needed someone the most. I don’t know how I can ever thank you for that.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” Oscar said gently. He reached out with his free hand, brushing his thumb across the back of Logan’s hand. “That’s what love is, isn’t it? Being there for each other, no matter what.”
Logan smiled, his chest tightening with emotion. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
Oscar leaned forward, his eyes shining. “I love you too,” he replied, his voice equally soft.
Their food arrived moments later, and they ate slowly, savouring not just the meal but the peace of the evening. At one point, Logan laughed, a genuine, carefree sound that made Oscar’s heart skip a beat.
After dinner, they walked hand in hand through the city streets, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the warmth of the restaurant. Logan stopped in the middle of a quiet square, turning to face Oscar.
“Thank you,” he said again, his voice firm.
“For what?” Oscar asked, tilting his head.
“For believing in me,” Logan replied. “For reminding me of who I am when I forgot. For... everything.”
Oscar smiled, stepping closer. “Always.”
Logan closed the distance between them, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to Oscar’s lips. It wasn’t the first time they’d kissed, but it felt different—deeper, more meaningful. When they pulled apart, Logan rested his forehead against Oscar’s, his eyes closed.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen next,” Logan admitted. “But with you by my side, I think I can handle it.”
Oscar cupped Logan’s cheek, his thumb brushing lightly across his skin. “You can handle anything,” he said with certainty. “And I’ll always be here, no matter what.”
They stayed like that for a moment longer, wrapped in the quiet intimacy of the night, before continuing their walk. For Logan, it felt like the start of something new—a second chance not just at racing, but at happiness. And for Oscar, it was a reminder of why he’d never let go of the man walking beside him. As they walked in the comfortable silence, Logan thought back to all the times Oscar was there, even when Logan didn't know how much he needed him.
--
The weeks following Logan's release from Williams were a blur of silence and shadows. His once lively presence—the easy jokes, the passionate conversations about strategy and racing—had been replaced with a hollow version of himself. It wasn’t just the loss of a seat in Formula 1; it was the loss of purpose, the dream he’d carried since childhood shattered in an instant.
Oscar first noticed the signs in small ways. Logan, who usually bounded out of bed early to start his day, began sleeping until the afternoon. His cheerful commentary while watching races was replaced with muted nods or indifferent shrugs. The spark that had always made Logan shine seemed to have dimmed.
The breaking point came one evening when Oscar returned from the McLaren simulator. The apartment was dark, the curtains drawn even though it was only early evening. The faint sound of the TV murmured from the living room, but when Oscar stepped in, he found Logan curled up on the couch, still in his pyjamas from the night before.
Oscar’s heart clenched at the sight. Logan’s face was pale, his eyes rimmed with dark circles, staring blankly at the screen without seeming to register what was on it. An untouched plate of toast sat on the coffee table beside a half-empty water bottle.
“Logan?” Oscar’s voice was gentle, careful. He approached slowly, sitting on the edge of the coffee table to face him. “Hey, love.”
Logan didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the screen. A dull highlight reel of the most recent Grand Prix flickered across the TV—a race Logan hadn’t even been able to watch live.
Oscar reached out, his hand brushing over Logan’s. “Talk to me. Please.”
It took several moments before Logan finally blinked, his voice hoarse as he whispered, “I don’t know who I am anymore, Oscar.”
The words hit Oscar like a punch to the chest. “What do you mean?”
Logan swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he struggled to explain. “I spent my whole life chasing F1. Every karting championship, every junior series—I gave up everything for this. And now it’s gone. Williams didn’t even give me a chance to prove myself. I know I crashed a few times but Alex crashed too.. I.. They couldn't even let me finish the season? It’s like... like I was never enough.”
His voice cracked on the last word, and he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, as if trying to stop the tears from falling. Oscar felt his own eyes sting with emotion, but he pushed it down, focusing on the man in front of him.
“You’re more than just a driver, Logan,” Oscar said firmly, taking Logan’s hands away from his face and holding them tightly. “I know racing is everything to you, but it’s not the only thing. You’re kind, loyal, and stronger than you give yourself credit for. This doesn’t define you.”
Logan shook his head, his expression filled with self-loathing. “It’s all I’ve ever been good at. Without racing, what’s left?”
Oscar’s grip on his hands tightened. “You. Logan Sargeant. The person I love more than anything. You’re more than a result or a contract. And I’m going to remind you of that, no matter how long it takes.”
Over the next few weeks, Oscar dedicated himself to being Logan’s anchor. On the worst days, when Logan couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed, Oscar would sit with him, bringing him tea or just holding his hand, letting him know he wasn’t alone. He didn’t push Logan to talk if he wasn’t ready but made sure he knew he was always there to listen.
There were moments that scared Oscar more than he wanted to admit. The times when Logan disappeared into the bathroom for too long, or when he stared out the window with a haunted look in his eyes. Oscar’s mind raced with worst-case scenarios, but he didn’t let his fears show. Instead, he focused on creating a safe space for Logan, filling their days with small routines—breakfast together, short walks around the block, even just sitting in comfortable silence while watching movies.
One evening, Oscar found Logan sitting on the bathroom floor, his back against the wall, knees drawn up to his chest. The light above the sink cast harsh shadows across his face, highlighting the tears streaking down his cheeks. Oscar knelt beside him, his voice steady but soft.
“Logan,” he said, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from his face. “What’s going on in your head?”
Logan’s voice was barely a whisper. “It’s just... so heavy. All the time. Like I can’t breathe. And I hate that you have to deal with this. With me.”
Oscar’s chest tightened, but he kept his voice calm. “You don’t have to carry this alone. I’m here because I love you, and I’m not going anywhere. We’ll get through this, Logan. Together.”
Slowly, Logan leaned into Oscar’s embrace, his body trembling as he let out a quiet sob. Oscar held him tightly, his heart breaking for the man he loved but resolute in his determination to help him heal.
--
The hotel room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city outside and the soft pop of the champagne bottle as Oscar worked the cork free. Logan sat cross-legged on the bed, still wearing his team jacket from the test earlier in the day. His face was flushed, a combination of the champagne they’d shared at the track and the lingering excitement from his performance.
Oscar turned, holding two glasses, the bubbles fizzing cheerfully as he handed one to Logan. Their fingers brushed, and Oscar lingered for just a moment before settling on the bed beside him.
“To new beginnings,” Oscar said, raising his glass.
Logan smiled, his eyes soft as they met Oscar’s. “And to the people who make them possible.”
They clinked their glasses gently and took a sip, the effervescence tickling Logan’s nose. He let out a quiet laugh, leaning back against the headboard, his head tilting to rest on Oscar’s shoulder.
Oscar reached for Logan’s free hand, intertwining their fingers as they sat together. The moment felt peaceful, like the world outside the hotel room didn’t exist.
“You looked so alive out there today,” Oscar said, breaking the silence. His voice was quiet but full of emotion. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you like that.”
Logan smiled faintly, swirling the champagne in his glass. “It felt... good. Better than I thought it would.” He turned to Oscar, his gaze steady. “And I wouldn’t have gotten here without you.”
Oscar shook his head, but Logan squeezed his hand.
“I mean it,” Logan said firmly. “You’ve been my anchor through everything. When I didn’t want to get out of bed, when I couldn’t even face the paddock... you never gave up on me.”
Oscar set his glass on the bedside table and shifted so he was facing Logan more fully. “You didn’t give up on yourself, either,” he said, his tone soft but unwavering. “You kept going, even when it felt impossible. I just—” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “I just reminded you of what I already knew. You’re stronger than you think, Logan.”
Logan’s throat tightened, and he blinked quickly, trying to keep the sudden wave of emotion at bay. He set his own glass aside, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to Oscar’s lips. It was gentle at first, tentative, but when Oscar kissed him back, the warmth of it spread through Logan like a balm.
When they parted, Logan rested his forehead against Oscar’s, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. “I don’t know how to put into words how much you mean to me,” he murmured.
“You don’t have to,” Oscar replied, his hands coming up to cradle Logan’s face. He brushed a thumb across Logan’s cheek, his gaze tender. “I know.”
Logan smiled, his heart feeling lighter than it had in months. He shifted, curling into Oscar’s side, his head resting against Oscar’s chest. Oscar wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close, his other hand absentmindedly running through Logan’s hair.
They stayed like that for a while, the champagne forgotten on the bedside table as they simply enjoyed the quiet intimacy of the moment. Logan traced slow patterns on Oscar’s chest, the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing lulling him into a state of calm.
“I missed this,” Logan said after a while, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Missed what?” Oscar asked, his fingers never pausing in their gentle movements through Logan’s hair.
“This,” Logan replied, looking up at him. “Feeling happy. Feeling like... myself.”
Oscar smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to Logan’s forehead. “You’ll keep feeling like this,” he said confidently. “Because you’re not alone. And you never will be.”
Logan closed his eyes, letting the truth of Oscar’s words settle deep within him. He felt safe here, in Oscar’s arms, in a way he hadn’t in a long time.
After a while, Logan tilted his head up, catching Oscar’s lips in another kiss. This one lingered, the unspoken emotions between them conveyed through touch rather than words. When they parted, Logan rested his forehead against Oscar’s once more, a soft smile playing on his lips.
“Stay with me,” Logan murmured, his voice laced with vulnerability.
“Always,” Oscar replied without hesitation.
The evening stretched on, their connection deepening with every whispered word and gentle touch. They talked about the future—about Logan’s potential in IndyCar, about the places they wanted to visit together, and about the life they were building side by side.
Later, as they lay tangled together beneath the covers, Logan found himself staring at Oscar, his heart full. For the first time in months, the weight on his chest felt lighter, the darkness that had threatened to consume him pushed back by the warmth of the man beside him. He remembered back to times in the paddock, supporting Oscar like he had supported him, he couldnt help but smile at their journey.
--
The bustle of the paddock was a symphony of noise—team radios crackling, mechanics clattering with tools, and the low hum of conversations punctuated by bursts of laughter. It was a world Logan had once been a part of, a world that had both defined and haunted him. Walking into it now, with Oscar by his side, felt bittersweet.
Logan’s hand lingered on Oscar’s arm as they passed through the McLaren hospitality area, the familiar orange and blue branding a stark reminder of how much his life had changed. Oscar noticed the subtle hesitance in Logan’s step and gave him a reassuring glance, his fingers brushing against Logan’s in a silent gesture of support.
“You’re with me,” Oscar said gently, leaning in so only Logan could hear. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
Logan nodded, exhaling slowly. The weight of his release from Williams still lingered, but being here, even as a visitor, was a step he had chosen to take. He wanted to support Oscar, to be present for him in the same way Oscar had been for him.
As they approached the McLaren garage, Alex Albon appeared, his ever-cheerful smile lighting up his face. “Logan!” Alex greeted, pulling him into a quick, friendly hug. “It’s good to see you back here. How’re you holding up?”
Logan managed a small smile, appreciating the warmth in Alex’s tone. “Getting there,” he admitted honestly.
“Well, it’s good to have you around,” Alex said, his sincerity cutting through the usual paddock bravado. “Let me know if you need anything, yeah?”
Logan nodded, his smile growing slightly. He and Alex had been close while on the grid together, he had been a quiet presence of support since his departure from Williams. They’d exchanged messages after Logan’s release, and Alex had been one of the first to reach out, offering a sympathetic ear without any pressure.
Inside the garage, Lando Norris was perched on a stool, scrolling through data on a tablet. When he spotted Logan, his face broke into a grin.
“Look who’s decided to grace us with his presence!” Lando teased, setting the tablet aside and coming over to clap Logan on the shoulder. “About time you showed up. We were starting to think you’d gone off to become a monk or something. Plus Oscar has been really miserable without you here.”
Logan chuckled despite himself, the lighthearted ribbing easing some of his tension. “Yeah, I figured I’d let you miss me for a bit.”
Oscar rolled his eyes fondly. “You two are insufferable together,” he muttered, though the smile tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement.
Lando’s expression softened slightly as he looked at Logan. “For real, though, it’s good to see you,” he said. “And don’t worry—no one’s expecting you to dive back into the deep end right away. Just take it at your own pace.”
Logan nodded, his chest warming at the genuine support he felt from those around him. He’d been worried about coming back to the paddock, afraid of facing questions or sideways glances. But here, surrounded by Oscar’s team and friends, he felt more at ease than he’d expected.
As the day went on, Logan stayed close to the McLaren garage, chatting with Alex and Lando when they weren’t busy, and watching Oscar as he prepared for his next session. The McLaren team had welcomed him without hesitation, offering him a seat in the hospitality area and treating him like he belonged.
At one point, Oscar returned from a debrief and found Logan sitting on a couch, scrolling idly through his phone. He dropped into the seat beside him, his presence immediately drawing Logan’s attention.
“Doing okay?” Oscar asked quietly, his hand resting on Logan’s knee.
Logan nodded, leaning into Oscar’s touch. “Yeah. It’s... not as bad as I thought it would be.”
Oscar smiled, his fingers brushing lightly against Logan’s. “I’m glad. And if it ever gets to be too much, just let me know. We can leave anytime.”
Logan turned to Oscar, his eyes searching his face. “Thank you,” he said, his voice soft but full of gratitude.
“For what?”
“For being here. For... everything.”
Oscar’s expression softened, and he reached up to brush a stray strand of hair from Logan’s forehead. “Always,” he said simply, his gaze unwavering.
As the afternoon wore on, Logan found himself relaxing more and more. He stayed away from the Williams garage—it was still too raw, too painful—but being with Oscar and the McLaren team gave him a sense of belonging he hadn’t felt in months.
By the time the day ended, Logan felt a small but significant shift within himself. The paddock, once a place of heartbreak, was starting to feel like something else entirely—a place of healing, of connection, of hope.
And as he left the garage hand-in-hand with Oscar, Logan realised that, for the first time in a long while, he wasn’t dreading what lay ahead. Instead, he was looking forward to it.
--
The room was dim, bathed in the soft glow of the city lights filtering through the curtains. The faint sounds of traffic echoed from the streets below, but inside the hotel, it was quiet. The only noise was the soft hum of Logan and Oscar’s breathing, the gentle rustle of the bedsheets as they lay side by side, their bodies tangled beneath the covers.
Logan was staring at the ceiling, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on Oscar’s arm. He could feel the steady rhythm of Oscar’s heartbeat beneath his fingertips, and it soothed him in a way he couldn’t explain. After everything—the tests, the challenges, the nights spent lying awake in the dark—this felt like peace. Oscar had been his rock through it all, and now, with the man he loved beside him, Logan couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.
Oscar turned slightly, lifting his head to rest on Logan’s chest. His eyes were half-closed, but there was a soft, contented smile playing on his lips.
“Are you okay?” Oscar asked, his voice still warm from the champagne and the gentle atmosphere of their room.
Logan glanced down at him, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’m better than okay,” he replied softly, his thumb brushing over Oscar’s knuckles.
Oscar raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a playful smirk. “Better than okay, huh? That’s a pretty big claim. You feeling good enough to tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?”
Logan chuckled, a hint of nervousness flickering in his chest. His heart raced, not from fear, but from the weight of the words he’d been holding onto for days now. This moment—this quiet, peaceful, unspoken connection—felt like the right time.
“I just…” Logan hesitated, searching for the right words. “I feel like I owe you more than I could ever repay. For everything you’ve done for me. For sticking by me when I didn’t know how to get out of the dark. For helping me find myself again.”
Oscar’s expression softened, his hand tightening around Logan’s. He didn’t need words to understand; the bond they shared spoke volumes. Logan wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but the simple, profound warmth in Oscar’s gaze made his heart swell with emotion.
Logan took a deep breath and sat up slightly, reaching for the bedside table where he’d placed a small, carefully wrapped box earlier. He could feel his nerves building again as he handed it to Oscar, but he kept his composure, his voice steady.
“I got you something,” Logan said, his heart pounding.
Oscar’s eyes flickered with curiosity, but there was no hesitation as he carefully unwrapped the box. When he opened it, he stared at the contents for a long moment, his fingers brushing over the small, delicate silver ring nestled inside. It was simple—no diamonds or flashy adornments—but the engraving on the inside was what mattered most: For all the days ahead.
Oscar looked up at Logan, his expression unreadable at first. Then, as if a weight had shifted in the air, he smiled softly, a mix of disbelief and tenderness in his eyes. “Logan…”
“I wanted to give you something,” Logan continued, his voice steady but full of emotion. “Something that says... I’m not going anywhere. I’m not just here for now. I’m here for everything that’s ahead of us. All the highs and lows. And I’m grateful for you, for being the person who saved me when I couldn’t save myself.”
Oscar took a moment, his breath catching slightly, and then, without another word, he slipped the ring onto his finger. He stared at it for a long time, as if grounding himself in the reality of what it meant. Then he reached up to cup Logan’s face, his thumb brushing over his cheek.
“I love you,” Oscar whispered, his voice low and full of sincerity. “More than you’ll ever know.”
Logan smiled, his own heart swelling with love. He leaned forward, capturing Oscar’s lips in a kiss that was slow and gentle at first, like the tender brush of the wind. It deepened slowly, the kiss turning from soft affection to something more intense, more intimate.
Their hands roamed, tracing familiar lines, touching skin that had already become so familiar. Oscar’s fingers danced over Logan’s back, pulling him closer as Logan tangled his hand in Oscar’s hair. There was no rush, no urgency—just the quiet, steady rhythm of two souls entwined. The world outside faded into the background, leaving only the warmth of the room, the connection between them, and the promise of a future together.
Logan pulled away just enough to rest his forehead against Oscar’s, their breaths mingling. He could feel Oscar’s pulse beneath his skin, feel the steady thrum of their hearts beating in sync.
“I’m yours,” Logan murmured, his voice raw with the depth of his feelings. “Now and always.”
Oscar smiled softly, his eyes sparkling in the dim light. “And I’m yours.”
They spent the rest of the night wrapped in each other’s arms, talking quietly about their future, about the things they still wanted to do, the places they wanted to go. They talked about dreams—both big and small—and about the family they might one day build. But there was no pressure, no fear of what might happen. All that mattered in that moment was the certainty that they were together, and that nothing could change that.
Later, when they lay together, tangled in the sheets, their bodies close, Logan traced the outline of the ring on Oscar’s finger, his heart full.
“I think this is the beginning of something beautiful,” he whispered, his voice drifting as sleep began to pull him under.
Oscar hummed in agreement, pressing a soft kiss to Logan’s shoulder. “It already is.”
And as they drifted off to sleep, the world outside continued on, but inside their little hotel room, all that mattered was the quiet, perfect love they had found in each other.