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Logan had never been much of a stand-out in anything he did. Sure, he’d won plenty of first-place trophies and a few second and third-place ones, too, but never having to do with anything particularly impressive.
Driving was always his passion from a very young age, when he raced karts around with the other kids. He’d been so happy to be able to start climbing up the ladder, thinking that he could finally stand out in something to make his family proud. Maybe the higher he climbed, the worthier he’d be of his victories.
The night he made it into F3, he’d lain awake in bed long after his family had stopped celebrating with him and the house had gone to sleep. Instead of the happy mood he’d been in all day, Logan found himself contemplative. He had narrowed it down to either making the best decision or worst mistake of his life; the pressure was on, and now there was only one way up.
It was a cathartic experience in a way, then, when he finally achieved his goals only to be dropped out of them a short time later. Despite his childhood dreams, Formula One didn’t really fit Logan as well as he had hoped.
The pressure of being the only American driver on the grid, being the most recent driver to skip F2 (right after generational talent Max Verstappen), and the overbearing nature of his boss had gotten to him almost immediately. Sure, Williams didn’t have Adrian Newey or the car of the century, but they did have good work ethic and determination. Logan had fit right in at the beginning.
Unfortunately, the Williams car wasn’t made for him like it was made for Alex, and the bad results started pouring in. Australia ‘24 had just about been his breaking point. The car wasn’t cooperating, and neither was he. And then he had to watch as Alex drove his car almost into the points.
James had hovered near him in the garage that day, as if he was waiting to hear Logan say something to him. Logan never did.
He had gone back to his driver room in silence and immediately texted Oscar about the whole thing. Oscar had delivered a much better race with P4 for McLaren, and had been willing to talk to him right after the champagne popped and the race weekend was over.
Logan was grateful for Oscar; he was not jealous of him. They had been friends for a while before making it to Formula One in 2023. Oscar was the better driver, not that Logan admitted it – Oscar always saw him as an equal.
He appreciated Oscar, for being there and never rubbing his successes in Logan’s face. They’d just sit and talk, and Oscar would listen to him with a thoughtful expression before chiming in when Logan paused or asked a question. He was one for comfortable silences, but not the heavy ones that Logan was used to.
So that’s why Logan had immediately texted him after the news was released that he would be dropped, and why he had now reached out about his dilemma in motorsports as a whole.
He was waiting on his couch, phone on his lap and opened to his most recent messages with Oscar.
I’ll be there in ten glowed back up at him, with a timestamp of seven minutes ago.
He had time to plan out how to present his troubles, but every time he had tried that, Oscar’s intent look would dismantle him and he’d just ramble until he ran out of breath. The Australian didn’t seem to mind; he would nod along and pay attention, and whenever Logan would glance back at him, he’d end up meeting Oscar’s thoughtful gaze.
Without warning, his foot began tapping against the floor as he watched the seven change to an eight on his phone. Oscar was always punctual, and he always heard Logan out and had excellent advice to give in return. There was nothing to be nervous about.
But there was. Motorsports had been their strongest point of connection from childhood, and now Logan was considering dropping out for good. It wasn’t the fault of the fans or the racing itself; the spine-crushing pressure that he always put himself under had begun to get to him.
Realistically speaking, he could do so without causing himself financial troubles. There were other hobbies out there for him, too; he was young and still curious. He had to save himself, didn’t he?
The question sunk into Logan’s mind and he stilled, staring vacantly at the floor as his brain converged upon him. Comparisons were the thieves of joy, a saying that he had become very familiar with in his experiences with F1 media. He had to spare himself from the psyche-destroying aspects of motorsports for his own sanity. Shouldn’t he?
The tell-tale sound of his doorbell jerked the American out of his thoughts, and he hurried to answer it, leaving his phone on the couch.
He opened the door to reveal Oscar, standing there in black athletic pants, running shoes, and a forest green shirt. He gave a characteristic – to Logan, though uncharacteristic according to the media – smile and stepped inside.
“Hi,” the Australian said as a way of greeting as Logan closed the door and led him back to the couch.
“Hi, how’s your day been?” Logan asked as a way of easing himself into the familiarity of their friendship.
“Good, I’ve been out running,” Oscar replied, sitting down next to Logan on the couch.
“Help yourself to any food or drink,” Logan told him. “Unless you’ve eaten, of course.”
“Actually, I was planning on ordering you something for later,” Oscar said, surprising Logan. “You still like burgers, don’t you?”
Logan, knowing very well that Oscar was aware of his food preferences, nodded. “Of course – thanks, Oscar.”
“No problem,” the Australian grinned. “Now what did you want to talk about?”
Logan internally winced about Oscar’s punctuality and laced his fingers together on his lap. “Well, I’ve been thinking about my career. I know that I have NASCAR testing and a promising agreement with Le Mans after Williams dropped me, but I don’t know about it.”
Logan could feel the pause in the air after the words left his mouth, and he didn’t dare look over at Oscar. After what felt like a brief eternity, Oscar said: “Don’t know about it how?”
“I don’t think either offer is really right for me,” Logan said, still skirting around the bomb he was about to drop.
“Are you waiting for another offer from a certain area of motorsport?” Oscar asked carefully, the caution in his voice clear as if he’d sensed what Logan was getting at.
Logan sighed, suddenly aware of how heavy his chest was. “No.”
The silence that clung to the air was deafening. Logan’s foot started tapping again.
When Oscar spoke, his voice was quieter, less contemplative. “Do you want to stop racing?”
Logan forced himself to look up at that moment, still fidgeting. He met Oscar’s gaze, the Australian's brown eyes trained on him knowingly. Logan could read him well enough to tell that he was slightly saddened at the prospect – the slump to his shoulders, the white knuckles from where he was holding the arm rest, and the slow rolling of his ankle. All reactions that Logan had learned well from their days of racing together.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “For now, at least. I need a break.”
He watched the confirmation register in Oscar’s mind as a look descended over the Australian’s face. It seemed to be a barrier of sorts, as Oscar’s face went from borderline sadness to a stone mask of emotionlessness. His heart dropped in time with his gaze.
The silence stretched further until Oscar finally said, “I’m glad you’re taking time out for yourself, Logan. Your career is not more important than you are, and I’m sorry that this is happening to you; you don’t deserve it. I hope the world gets to see your talents like I do.”
Logan looked over at Oscar again, not expecting him to sound relieved. He was met with a gentle smile from his friend, yet there was a lingering solemnity in his eyes.
“Really? It’s okay?” He heard himself asking.
“Of course it’s okay; I’m glad that you’re finally taking some time for yourself. You need a break, Logan.”
The words settled around him. Oscar isn’t mad at me. Not that it was a worry of any substance, but Logan’s irrational fears had gotten the better of him earlier. Now there was just the detail of Oscar’s heavy brow.
“And you’ll be alright?” Logan questioned as he looked at Oscar again.
Oscar smiled, his mouth barely more than a straight line. “I’ll be alright, of course.” He paused, as if there was more to say, so Logan waited.
Another few seconds dragged by, and Logan’s foot started to tap faster before Oscar said, voice soft: “I’ll also miss you, too.”
That must be the sound of my heart shattering, Logan thought ruefully. He almost reconsidered his entire plan from the destitute tone in Oscar’s voice. His friend looked genuinely sad, still wearing that bittersweet expression and clenching his hands together. Logan’s grandma floated to the forefront of his mind along with her advice on comfort: Hold on tight and don’t let go. He had to act fast, he decided, and leaned over to wrap an arm around the Australian.
Oscar startled briefly at the unprompted contact before sinking into his hold and returning the hug. They sat like that for a minute or two; Logan leaning forward with his arms at Oscar’s ribs while Oscar sunk into him, arms wrapped around his shoulders and head leaning onto the crook of the American’s neck.
Oscar’s weight was a comforting warmth, something Logan was slightly unused to but not unfamiliar with. He rarely sought comfort, but it was gentle and light when he did. He was incredibly self-sufficient, which is why Logan was the one who reached out most often. The last time Oscar had done so was his DNF in Bahrain for his Formula One debut. Even then, Logan hadn’t needed to do much in the way of consolation.
It was a change of pace, but not unpleasant for him to be the one comforting Oscar. And in this moment, he suspected that they were seeking solace from one another.
Then, Oscar moved to lean back and settled against the couch, and Logan copied him, waiting for the brunette to speak.
“Thanks,” Oscar said. “I really am going to miss you, you know.”
Logan smiled at him. “Hey, I can always pop in to see how your races are going. I’ll miss you, too, though.”
Oscar grinned ruefully in reply. “I’ll be sure to book you a hotel sometime – maybe even take you out celebrating with me. I don’t think you’d want to be back in the paddock, though.”
Logan shook his head. “James would probably jump me.”
Oscar chuckled dryly at the joke. “Yeah, I’d fear for your safety.”
“Hey, can I ask how you think Carlos will do with the team?” Logan asked, trying to keep himself in a sane mental space. His foot tapped again, as if noting an undercurrent of doubt in what Logan was asking to hear.
“It’s best if you don’t think about these things,” his friend said warningly.
“C’mon, Oscar, I’m going to be around anyway if I drop by on your race,” Logan reasoned, deciding that he would be as happy for the team as he could be.
Oscar sighed, his chest moving with the motion. “I think they’ve made some serious upgrades with Carlos and Alex and will probably be a top runner among the back markers this year.”
Logan nodded; that made sense. Carlos was a brilliant driver, and Logan at least had the satisfaction of knowing that his replacement would be for good. Granted, it wasn’t Lewis Hamilton, but Carlos was in a similar situation to him and he was empathetic.
“Are we talking like regular points finishes or consistent P13s?” Logan pressed, now genuinely curious.
Oscar gave him a look. “Logan, you don’t need to be thinking about how Williams will be doing this year. The whole point of your break is to focus on yourself, and I am going to help you be kind to yourself. Telling you about my thoughts on your former team isn’t going to accomplish that.”
“This is the last thing I’ll ask you about them, I promise,” Logan wheedled, hoping that Oscar would agree.
Oscar’s sigh was heavier this time, but he said: “I think that regular points finishes for at least one of the cars are more likely.”
The blond nodded, expecting to hear that answer. His social media feeds had been mercilessly bombarding him with rumors and speculations about the nature of Williams’ upgrades and how they would perform in the upcoming season. At a certain point, he had just made a burner account to scroll with because it was getting ridiculous. Then he found himself purposefully logging into his personal account to scroll, and it went downhill from there.
But now, hearing it from another person – his friend that he trusted greatly, no less, Logan felt shockingly at ease. Williams was going to do well without him: that much was objectively true. He could live with that. He just had to move on.
Reflexively, Logan reached out to take Oscar’s hand, as he did with his mother whenever he needed a moment to mentally leap over a hurdle. Oscar tensed in surprise, but relaxed as Logan’s fingers entangled with his. Logan willed his face not to warm; he hadn’t expected to do that, it had just come naturally to him. He just hoped that he wasn’t making the Australian uncomfortable.
When Logan dared to look over, Oscar was looking at their enclasped hands with a sort of tender contemplation. It was as if he was mentally cataloging the sight for the first time that he had seen it, as one would the Statue of Liberty or the Mona Lisa. It was honestly sweet, and Logan’s heart melted a little as he caught the small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth to match the upward tick of Oscar’s lips.
He averted his gaze before Oscar caught him looking, and instead focused on breathing and willing his palms not to sweat. Oscar’s hand, like his weight and presence, was warm and comforting. Logan enjoyed the sense of security he was receiving from simple contact, the knowledge that everything would turn out well prevalent in his mind. He could feel his heartbeat falling into a lull of calm, and then noticed that his foot had stopped tapping.
Oscar was almost magical, then, he supposed. It took even a few minutes with his parents for him to truly calm down. With Oscar just now, it had been almost instantaneous.
But that was the thing about Oscar: almost everything with him had been instantaneous. Their meeting, their friendship, how they connected, Logan’s attraction to him – even if it was surface-level as best. Oscar was like a magnet in a way, pulling everyone and everything closer to him by unintentional force of habit. Logan was helpless to him; of course he was. Oscar had been a constant in his life, someone who grounded him and helped him to keep going when the word was stacked against him.
Logan looked back at Oscar for a second, sneaking a peek like a third grader with a crush. It came as no surprise to anyone that Oscar was physically attractive as well. His soft brown hair and inquisitive eyes only enhanced his personality to be more inviting.
As if reading his thoughts, Oscar looked at him and Logan felt his face warm, embarrassed to be caught. His brain chose that moment to catch up and realize that they had been silent for a healthy period of time.
“What are you thinking?” Oscar asked quietly, those eyes probing him for an answer.
Logan swallowed, not even considering editing his thoughts. “This is nice,” he said truthfully. “I don’t want you to make you uncomfortable, and it was a reflex for me, but this is nice.”
Oscar rewarded him with a smile, as if hoping that was what the American would say. “This is nice,” he agreed. “Don’t worry, you couldn’t make me uncomfortable.”
Logan felt himself smile back, an internal sense of relief deflating within his chest. “I’m glad. Is it alright if we stay like this for a bit? It helps and I’m relaxed now.”
“Of course,” the brunette concurred, his smile drawing dimples onto his cheeks.
Oscar’s dimples were adorable, Logan realized. They weren’t terribly common for someone to see, but when they were visible, Oscar became the cutest person on the planet.
Logan felt his blush start crawling down his neck and looked away. He then felt a slight squeeze on his hand from none other than the hand that he was holding. Logan returned the gesture and smiled to himself, suddenly too nervous to look at Oscar. (Had he, though, he would’ve found Oscar looking at him like he was the only person in the world.)
The American sat there in the moment, soaking up the feeling of assurance pressing against his palm and felt truly at ease for the first time since he had been taken on by Williams. It was an unfamiliar yet incredibly welcome feeling, and he could sit in their bubble together for several eternities.
When Logan felt his calm petering off into drowsiness, he supposed that all good things had to come to an end. He looked over at Oscar, who was again contemplating the unity of their hands as if studying a racecar diagram.
“Oscar?” He asked, voice tinged with a rasp from the time of not using it.
“Yeah?” Oscar replied, turning his head to look at the blond.
“I think I’m good now, thank you,” Logan said, despite everything in him screaming to not let this feeling end.
“Oh,” Oscar said and slowly withdrew his hand from Logan’s. He blinked and seemed to remember himself. “You still want me to order you something, right?”
“Of course I do,” Logan grinned and sunk back into their easy conversation.
Oscar shot him a smile in return. “Good, ‘cause I’ve got some coupons I need to use.”
Logan laughed at that, nudging the Australian in the ribs. “Only willing to treat me with a coupon, are you? That’s your mom’s influence for sure.”
Oscar chuckled. “You’re probably right there. But you shouldn’t be complaining; you’re getting free food here.”
“Well, thanks, Oscar. Seriously, for everything. I’m glad that you could come over today, and thank you for supporting me. You’re a great friend,” Logan told him, feeling like he had to say something to address the purpose of Oscar’s visit and detract from any potential “moment” they may have had. He didn’t want to scare off his friend.
“You’re most welcome,” Oscar replied, sounding pleased. The usual warmth to his cheeks seemed to have darkened, but Logan didn’t want to read into that too much. A lingering silence descended upon them again for a brief moment.
“What are you doing today?” Logan asked in an effort to break said quiet.
That seemed to reboot Oscar, who glanced at his watch and mumbled a curse. “Zak and Andrea want to meet with me for an updated diet and workout plan today. I have less than half an hour to get over there to meet with them.”
Logan smiled sympathetically and inwardly cursed himself for hoping that Oscar wouldn’t be busy. “You should probably get to that, then.”
Oscar nodded slowly and followed Logan as the American stood to escort him to the door. “You’ll be alright today?”
Logan turned to give him a smile. “Thanks to you, I’ll be alright for a while. I really appreciate it, Oscar.”
“No problem,” the brunette replied, and yeah, he was definitely blushing. It was so sweet to watch, and Logan tried to keep himself from getting caught up in the impossibility.
They reached the door and Logan turned to say goodbye when he felt Oscar’s arms around him in a reciprocation of their earlier hug. He could do nothing but put his arms around Oscar again in relieved happiness.
“I’m proud of you,” Oscar said into his neck. “You’re really doing great.”
Logan willed his heart not to beat faster – Oscar would probably be able to tell – and instead focused on a simple “Thanks.”
“It’s my pleasure,” the Australian responded before unwinding himself from Logan’s embrace and turning to leave. He opened the door, but then, unexpectedly, paused.
Oscar stood in Logan’s doorway with that all-too-familiar thoughtful look on his face. As Logan waited to find out what his friend was weighing in his mind, he was surprised to notice Oscar taking a step in his direction. He was even more surprised – and pleased – to find Oscar stepping into his guard to tilt up and place the softest of kisses on his left cheek.
He was probably already lost to the impossibility at that point. The soft touch of Oscar’s lips lit up stars under his skin and pulled him to impossible heights, a feeling of blissful weightlessness taking over his body as he stood suspended in the feeling. As Oscar stepped back, he found that they were both tomato-red.
“I’ll see you around,” Oscar said. “Expect the food delivery soon.”
He then waved at Logan and turned to go, the American watching his retreating back down the hallway.
“See you!” Logan called out, waving as Oscar glanced back over his shoulder with a smile. He then closed the door behind him, grinning like a fool, and went back to sink into his couch feeling light as air. Definitely lost to the impossibility.
It was inevitable, he supposed, to fall for Oscar.
After all, shouldn’t he?