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He looks at him like he hung the whole universe. It's obvious to everyone, since the moment they had been teammates back in Prema, back when the pressure wasn’t as daunting, as… Loud, as it had started to become. They shared looks from across the room, smiling at their phones as they made plans about the future, how they would be on the same team, or even just keep in contact.
He watched his rival, crush- friend , as he got into a good team, one he deserved so much. He’s barely jealous, way too excited to care anyway. He lets himself be happy for his friend, doesn’t hug him but makes sure he understands how proud he is of him. He watches his friends’ eyes sparkle when he tells him about getting to the grid.
That might’ve been worse for him. He watched his friend and his new teammate, how he seemed to make him laugh at every small interaction. He looked at his own teammate, so happy to have him, so nice to him at every moment, but he also saw his eyes sparkle at the glimpse of a Mercedes suit. Listened to him talk about his best friend with a love so dear, he understood immediately. He wondered if he could ever talk about him like that, as well.
It's been a few months and he supposes they hadn’t been that far off. They were still close, still friends, still the same as they always were. He craved more, but he never pushed. Cherished each interaction like it was the last, and maybe he could even pretend that he was normal, that he wasn’t queer in a sport where the places he went to could kill him. He lets himself laugh at the irony of it all one night, after a particularly shitty race. Oscar was out, somewhere. He was probably celebrating. He had done well, he always did well. He rolls over and messages him a simple congratulations before turning his phone off. No point in realizing that they barely messaged anymore. No point in realizing that Oscar was closer to his teammate than him.
Nothing lasts forever, that’s how the song goes, doesn’t it? He watches his career come crashing down, listens, nodding along soullessly as they talk about the technical details of his termination. It was long overdue, and it shouldn’t mean shit to him, because he knew this. He knew he wasn’t doing his best, that the car was fucked and he would never be able to be a good driver, didn’t have what it takes, didn’t have the courage, the confidence. He knew he didn’t hold a match to the others on the grid. He congratulated Franco on his way out, walking aimlessly to his hotel to… what was he doing?
He didn’t blame Alex, felt no reason to. He asked if he knew and when he shook his head, he let himself cry in the arms of the guy who’d become a pillar for him the entire season. He hiccupped out a good luck to him, a small wiry smile sent his way as he wiped away his tears, and looked at his phone. It was blowing up, he knew it would. Most social medias were going insane, but he saw a notification that caught his eye- Oscar – he looks at it immediately, ofcourse he does. Opens his phone like it was going to explode if he didn’t, read his message over and over, eyes stuck on the specific words he used, trying to think of it as something deeper than it was. But it wasn’t, because it never was. They were friends, and to Oscar, that was the entire picture. To Logan, Oscar was the world. He would look through every season if it meant watching his friend win over and over, even if he wasn’t on the podium next to him as he hadn’t been this entire season, and wouldn’t be after this. He left a short text, Thanks, means a lot. Sorry I couldn’t tell you myself. And he closed his phone again, and let himself fall asleep, deeper than he had for a couple of weeks now.
After all of it, he kissed Oscar, right before he left. They were in his hotel room, the curtains had been closed and all of his belongings packed for him to go back to Florida, and he kissed him. he wasn’t thinking, how could he? He was looking at the boy he likes, and Oscar was upset, looking at him with a slight frown, one that made him feel like he was about to be scolded. So he kissed him. He doesn’t tell him about anything else, doesn’t explain, gives him a picture frame of them, younger, happier, not like this , whatever this was. He doesn’t tell him, but behind the frame, there’s a letter explaining everything, and he leaves the love of his life in his hotel room and leaves the sport he loves for the last time. He would get more opportunities, but he ruined his friendship. He was fine with it, really. He’d done what he wanted, and he’d left.
If he found a message from Oscar apologizing about everything after reaching home, he didn’t reply. He watched as Oscar went offline before taking a deep breath and going inside. He would move on, even if it meant that he could never have Oscar, leaving behind the nagging feelings of had he ever had him? He messaged Alex about the boy in the Mercedes, and he let himself be .