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Lando had never been away from school for an entire week before. A day or two, sure. Once, when he was younger, he got a nasty ear infection and had to stay home for three whole days, but a full week? That was basically a lifetime.
By the time monday rolled around and he was finally back, he was quite literally buzzing. His mum had kept him inside all weekend “just to be sure,” even though he felt fine by friday. His energy had nowhere to go, and now, the moment he stepped through the school gates, he was practically vibrating.
He had so much to catch up on. Not schoolwork, obviously—he wasn’t that worried about it—but everything else. Had anyone gotten in trouble? Had Miss Barry given out a new seating chart? Had Oscar—
Well.
His thoughts skidded a bit. He wasn’t sure where that last one was going.
Still, as soon as he stepped into the classroom, his eyes found Oscar automatically. He was already at his desk, scribbling something into his notebook, the same way he always did when he didn’t want to talk to anyone. But before Lando could make his way over, Theo spotted him first.
“Oi, Lando! You’re alive!”
That was all it took. The next few minutes were spent on greetings, Theo and Sammy D and Louis filling him in on everything he’d missed—mostly unimportant things, like someone in year six getting hit by a football on tuesday and losing a tooth, and how Miss Barry wasn’t holding back on homework, as usual.
Lando laughed along, fidgeting with his pencils, tapping them against his desk. He kept sneaking glances at Oscar, waiting for him to look up. But he never did. It was just a little odd.
Recess couldn’t come soon enough. As soon as the bell rang, the class spilled outside, and like always, the first thing he and the other lads did was scan the yard for the football, and run down to the pitch to play. His brain was overwhelmed as he tried to keep track of everyone at once—who was passing, who was blocking, who was trying to sneak around the edges. He was so focused that he almost didn’t notice when the ball soared straight over the fence.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Theo groaned, collapsing into the grass.
“Nice one,” Oscar called, shaking his head.
Still bouncing on his feet, Lando looks towards the fence where the ball had landed. It wasn’t too far off. They just needed to retrieve it quickly before Miss Clarke found out.
“I’ll get it!” he offers immediately, already jogging towards it.
It was a short walk past the pitch, to the edge of the playground, where a few other pups were standing around. Lando didn’t pay them much attention at first, hopping up onto his toes to peer through the gaps in the fence. And then he heard it.
“—such a weirdo. He doesn’t even act like an alpha.”
He blinked, interest piqued, even as he spotted the ball lying in the grass on the other side. He should’ve just climbed over and grabbed it. He meant to. But instead, his ears tuned in, and his fingers curled around the wire mesh.
Another voice, slightly higher-pitched, snickered. “Yeah, but he’s useful, though. His mum packs extra snacks, so if you sit with him, he’ll share.”
His brows pinch together in a frown. Were they talking about—
“Still, it’s weird, yeah? He’s an alpha, but he’s so quiet. D’you reckon he’s a bit loony?”
Oh.
They were talking about Oscar.
It wasn’t that what they were saying was awful—they weren’t being cruel exactly. But something about the way they said it, the way they snickered behind their hands, made his chest feel a little weird. And it was about Oscar. That was the part he didn’t like.
It made him feel restless, thoughts jumping around in circles, landing on things he didn’t quite know what to do with. A few moments later, he finally grabbed the ball and jogged back, his mind still stuck on the conversation.
By the time recess ended, he had to know, and so he waited until they were back in class, until everyone was settling in, before leaning over to Oscar’s desk and whispering,
“Hey, who’ve you been sitting with at lunch?”
Oscar glances up from his paper. “Huh?”
Twirling a pencil between his fingers, Lando tilts his head. “Last week. Who were you hanging out with?”
“Dunno. Just some of the lads from the year above I think,” he shrugs.
Lando squints at him. “Which lads?”
Another shrug. “Nathan, maybe? Freddie?”
Oh, yeah, those are familiar names—they were the ones talking by the pitch. For some reason, his stomach did that weird flipping thing again.
“You’re mates with them?”
Oscar frowns slightly, confused. “I mean. Yeah?”
Lando’s fingers twitch. He had a habit of tapping his knuckles against his desk when he was thinking too hard, and he barely noticed himself doing it now, because they didn’t sound like mates.
He didn’t say that, though. Instead, he just hummed, staring at him for a long moment, thoughts spinning. Oscar didn’t seem to get it, which meant… Lando wasn’t going to tell him. Not yet.
Something about the whole thing didn’t sit right, but his brain was already leaping to other things—the assignment Miss Barry was handing out, the fact that Theo was already trying to peek at Sammy D answers, the fact that he probably was going to end up helping Theo with the paper later. So, Lando stores the conversation in the back of his mind. Just for now.
But that night, he just couldn’t stop thinking about it. It wasn’t like him to dwell on things—usually, his brain hopped from one thought to the next, barely touching down before moving on. But this one stuck to him.
Oscar was polite. Everyone said so. Teachers were always saying things like, what a well-mannered pup, and Oscar is such a cooperative student. He never caused trouble, never got a single complaint, never even talked back—which Lando thought was a little impressive, because he himself got told off at least twice a week for speaking when he wasn’t supposed to.
And yet. Oscar was polite to everyone. He was good. And somehow, people weren’t always good back to him.
Lando just couldn’t understand that.
Somewhere last year, he’d met Oscar’s mum. Well, his mum had met Oscar’s mum, and he’d just been dragged along because she didn’t want to leave him home alone. Nicole—was it really Nicole?—had been nice to him. To his mum, too. She’d talked about raising her pups with good manners, about treating people well because it would always come back to you.
To be fair, he hadn’t thought much of it at the time. He’d mostly been trying to balance his mum’s phone on his knee under the table, and his mum had pinched his ear lightly, whispering, you should listen to what she’s saying.
He’d forgotten about it right after.
But now, it bothered him.
Oscar is good, and he’s nice, and he’s kind. But those lads on the pitch, the ones who called him weird behind his back, didn’t treat him the same way. Why should Oscar treat a meanie with respect? Why did he still sit with them at lunch, pass them his extra snacks, hang around them at recess?
Lando doesn’t like that. He really, really doesn't like that. So, the next morning, when he walked into school, he had a plan (okay, no, he didn’t have a plan, exactly, but he had intentions, which is basically the same thing) and he was going to do something about it.
Even before the first bell rang, he found them, huddled near the side of the building, trading sweets before class. He marched straight up to them, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Oi.”
Nathan, the tallest of the bunch, turned first. “What?”
Lando rocks on his heels. “What’s your deal with Oscar?”
They all blinked at him.
“What?”
“You hang out with him,” he explains, tilting his head, watching them. They were all alphas, but he wasn’t about to slump over himself and make them feel good about themselves just ‘cause they’re alphas. “But you talk about him like he’s weird.”
Freddie snorts, kicking a bit of dirt with his sneakers. “Because he is weird.”
“He’s quiet,” he corrected. “That’s not the same thing.”
Nathan looks at him from head to toe, and shrugs. “Well, whatever. He’s alright.”
“Yeah, and he’s got good snacks,” another pup added.
His eyes narrow.
“So that’s why you sit with him?” he crosses his arms to his chest, tapping his fingers against his elbows. “You know he thinks you lot are his mates, right?”
That made Nathan pause. “I mean, we are mates,” he says, but there was something a little less certain in his tone.
“Are you really?”
And something about this whole thing tugged in his chest, because he shouldn’t have to be the one pointing this out. He shouldn’t have to explain that mates don’t whisper bad things behind each other’s backs.
“If you’re not gonna be nice to him, then don’t act like you are,” he spat, and then he turned on his heels and left.
Looking back, maybe he should’ve told Oscar about it. Because the moment Oscar entered their classroom a bit late and sat next to him, things seemed a bit off right off the bat.
Normally, Oscar had a very particular way of settling into his seat. Always slow, never fidgeting or shifting like Lando did. But today, he slumped into his chair a little too quickly, staring ahead like he was trying not to look anywhere else, shoulders drawn a little too tight.
Lando, who was already distracted from the maths sheet in front of him, immediately turned in his seat.
“What’s up?”
“What?”
“You’re all…” Lando waves a hand at him.
Oscar sighed and sank lower in his chair. “I’m fine.”
Which was a lie. A very bad one, actually, because Lando knew Oscar’s fine voice, and this was not it.
So, of course, he presses on.
“You don’t look fine,” he pointed out. “You look all stiff and moody.”
“I’m not moody.”
“You are moody. You didn’t even say hi to me this morning.”
Oscar sighed again, still looking ahead, and it made him frown, drumming his fingernails on his desk. Yeah, Oscar had never been the most talkative, but he was always present, always quietly listening, always responding when he asked him something—even if it was just a hum or a small shrug. Right now, Oscar just seemed… distant, and weird, and off.
But then, like he’s changed his mind, Oscar turns slightly to him and says, “Nathan bumped into me in the hallway. Asked me if I really asked for an omega to protect me.”
And—
“What?” Lando squeaks.
“That’s what he said.”
“Nathan’s a prat,” he blurts out, quickly. It wasn’t like he’d expected those lads to be nice about it, but seriously? “And so what? It’s not like you asked me to do it. I just did it ‘cos I heard them being mean.”
Oscar doesn’t answer. It makes him frown.
“Oscar?”
Nothing.
It looks like Oscar wasn’t just upset about what they said—he was upset about the whole thing.
“Wait,” Lando says, slowly, straightening on his seat. “Are you mad at me?”
A frustrated exhale leaves Oscar’s lips. “I don’t know,” he mumbles. “I just—” he presses his lips together, looking away. “You didn’t have to do that.”
Lando’s brows furrow. “What do you mean? Of course, I did! They were talking about you!”
Again, Oscar fell silent, and Lando started to feel his own frustration bubbling.
“I don’t get it,” he continues. “D’you really like them?”
“I don’t,” Oscar replies, a little too quickly.
“Then what’s the problem?”
“It’s just—” his expression is tight. “You don’t have to do things for me, okay? I don’t need you to protect me. I don’t need that.”
“That’s stupid,” Lando declares, face scrunching up.
Oscar groans. “Lando—”
“No, really! That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said! What I did is just what real mates do—look out for each other. I gave you my jumper last winter when you forgot yours. I—”
“That’s different,” Oscar mutters, cutting off his rambling.
“No, it isn’t!”
“Yes, it is.”
“How?”
“It just is,” Oscar insists, rubbing a hand over his face, voice going quiet as he added, “You don’t understand.”
Fricking muppet.
“Fine,” Lando says, finally turning back to his desk.
If Oscar didn’t want to be honest about it, fine.
For the first time in a long time, they spent the rest of the day sitting in silence.
•
As it turns out, Lando is the one who ends up moody.
It’s stupid, really. He knows it’s stupid, but he can’t help it.
He’s just so used to poking Oscar every five minutes to chat about random things—whether it’s about what they’re doing when class is over, or some ridiculous theory he has about how Miss Barry is definitely hiding something in her desk drawer. But now, It’s like there’s an ocean separating them.
And he doesn’t want to be snippy, it just happens. He snaps at Louis when he asks if he’s coming over to play videogames after school. He huffs when his eraser rolls off his desk and Oscar, out of habit, picks it up and places it back without saying a word. Even Theo, that wanker, stops talking to him halfway through the day, grumbling that he’s being insufferable, which means it’s awful.
By the time the final bell rings, Lando is practically thrumming with frustration. He throws his things into his bag with more force than necessary, fully expecting Oscar to be the first out the door, first out the gates. After all, they have the same route home. They always do. They usually walk together, Oscar with his bike, Lando bouncing beside him, talking his ear off about something or another.
Today, Lando is convinced that Oscar will just hop on his bike and leave without sparing him a glance. So when he steps outside, bag slung over his shoulder, he isn’t expecting to find Oscar waiting for him at the gates, not saying anything, not even looking at him, but there.
And then they are walking. Together. And Oscar’s still pushing his bike beside him, still—
Still with him.
So, he slows his pace, falling into step beside him, and it’s quiet. He doesn’t usually think before he speaks. He just says things and then deals with the consequences later. But right now, with Oscar’s shoulders just a little too tense, his fingers curled a little too tight around the handlebars of his bike—Lando bites his tongue, lets them walk in silence for a while.
It’s a weird silence, not an angry one.
And finally, finally, as they were rounding up his street, Oscar sighs. “I wasn’t mad at you,” he admits.
Caught off guard, Lando looks up at him, while Oscar keeps his gaze forward, his hand on his bike flexing slightly.
“I mean, I was,” he corrects himself. “But not in the way you think.”
“Then what way?”
“I think I just—” his brows furrow. “I don’t know.”
Lando waits, which is hard, actually. Really, really hard. But he does it anyway. Knows that sometimes words don’t come easily to Oscar, in a way they do to him.
“I’m an alpha,” he finally mutters, shifting his weight, kicking a stray pebble with his shoe.
“Yeah?”
Oscar huffs. “And you’re an omega.”
Lando tilts his head, not sure where this is going. “Yeah, so?”
Because he doesn’t usually think about stuff like this. Sure, he knows about dynamics and all that, but it’s never really mattered to him. But Oscar—he is thinking about it.
“They always say I’m different,” Oscar continues after a while. “Not like other alphas.”
Yeah, he knows that as well. He’s always known that, since they first met. Oscar has never been like the other alpha lads—never loud, never rowdy, never picking fights or trying to prove something. He’s just Oscar, who also happens to be an alpha. Two separate things.
“And then Nathan said that—” he swallows, voice a little quieter, glancing up at the sky like he’s trying to find the answer somewhere in the clouds. “I think it just—it just made me feel weird.”
Lando tilts his head slightly, watching him carefully, letting him continue without interrupting.
“You’re an omega, and you’re—” he waves a hand vaguely. “You’re you. You don’t let people talk bad about you. You say what you want, do what you want. You stood up for me.”
Then, Oscar’s voice drops slightly. “And I’m an alpha,” he says, almost bitterly. “I’m supposed to be the one who—” he suddenly stops, then sighs. “I don’t know.”
“Oh.”
It’s all he responds to that, because he understands it now, that Oscar isn’t upset because he stood up for him. He’s upset because he feels like he shouldn’t have needed him to do it in the first place. Because someone put it in his head that, as an alpha, he’s supposed to be the one doing the protecting, the standing up, the whatever things an alpha should do.
“You know,” Lando starts, tentatively at first. “Just because you’re an alpha doesn’t mean you have to act like the others.”
Oscar sighs, chews on the inside of his cheek for a moment. “I know that.”
“And just because I’m an omega doesn’t mean I can’t stand up for people.”
“I know,” Oscar repeats, a little firmer, like he can’t stand the idea of coming off as one of those rude alphas who say that omegas are only useful to have pups and to tend to their houses, because he’s good like that, sweet. Lando knows that those words are never going to leave Oscar’s lips.
So he just nudges him softly with his shoulder. “Good.”
Oscar huffs, and they walk a little longer, the silence between them much easier now. Lighter.
“I’d do it again. If someone talks bad about you. I’d stand up for you again,” Lando admits, just as they stop in front of his house.
“Yeah,” Oscar smiles, and it’s—yeah. It makes him feel strange flutters somewhere in his belly, even though it’s just a smile and he smiles at him all the time.
This one just feels different, somehow.
“Anyway,” Lando says, because he’s never been good at leaving things unsaid, “You are an alpha, but you’re also you.”
Something in Oscar’s expression softens, like he’s soaking in the words, letting them settle in his chest, and this time his smile is even wider, bunny teeth and all, his cheeks going a bit pink.
So he adds, casually, because it’s just the truth, “And I like you like this. Just the same old Osc.”
“Osc?” his nose scrunches up at the unfamiliar nickname.
Lando grins. “Yep. D’you like it?”
“I mean,” Oscar shrugs. “I guess it’s not so bad.”
“See you tomorrow then, Osc?” he asks, stepping back toward the house.
Oscar nods. “Yeah.”
“Cool.”
And just like that, everything is okay again. Oscar pedals away, and Lando watches until he turns around the corner.
Like shoving a note into his pocket to read later, he pushes that new, fluttering feeling aside and rushes up the stairs.