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Carlos had just returned from a bike ride with Guzman. He took a quick shower and then, looking outside, he noticed everything was still extremely quiet. Morning light was beginning to peek through the trees, illuminating the untouched landscape of Comporta. The sky was overcast, and a light drizzle threatened to fall steadily, as it often did during that time of year.
Carlos noticed there wasn’t a soul around—probably everyone was still asleep—so he pulled on a light blue sweatshirt over his white t-shirt, kept on the shorts he had slept in, and slipped out through the glass doors.
He walked across the garden, glancing around as a few raindrops landed on his hair, still damp from the shower.
He reached the building he had been looking for and unlocked the door with the key he always kept with him. The small house was completely dark inside, but it was identical to his, so he was able to find his way to the bedroom.
He tried not to make any noise so he wouldn’t startle him. Lando was sound asleep, his face buried in the pillow and the blanket pulled over his legs. He was wearing a white t-shirt and boxers.
The room wasn’t as dark as the rest of the house; the shutters on the glass door were half open, allowing a glimpse of green trees and cloudy skies.
But Carlos’s attention was entirely on the man sleeping in those spotless sheets.
He took off his shoes and, barefoot, walked slowly to the bed. He sat down carefully so as not to wake him and looked at him.
His features were completely relaxed. Carlos suppressed the urge to trace them with his fingers—he wanted to let him sleep a little longer. It had been days since he had touched him, at least not in the way they were allowed to when hidden away from the rest of the world. And that made him feel desperate.
He lay down slightly on the other pillow and stayed there watching him, at least until drowsiness and exhaustion took over and he fell asleep, right there in his bed.
When he woke up, he didn’t know how much time had passed, but he found Lando’s green eyes looking at him, a smile on his face.
“Your scent woke me up,” the brunette whispered, giving him a warning look. Carlos knew he wasn’t supposed to be there, and Lando was reminding him of that with the intensity of his gaze.
The dark-haired man rubbed his eyes sleepily.
“I missed sleeping with you,” he mumbled in protest.
Lando nodded, his fingers moving toward Carlos’s face to gently touch the smooth skin, now free of any stubble.
Carlos kept shaving it off, but Lando missed the rough feeling against his skin.
“Have you already worked out?” he asked, running his fingers through his soft hair.
Carlos closed his eyes slightly, enjoying the sensation.
“Yeah, I’m exhausted,” he complained, making Lando laugh.
At that sound, Carlos immediately opened his eyes to look at him—the way the small wrinkles formed on his face, and the way his mouth relaxed.
That mouth he had been longing to kiss for days.
He had almost kissed him at least three times just the day before, right in front of all their friends.
The first time was at lunch. Lando was sitting next to him, and while taking a bite of his sandwich, he’d gotten barbecue sauce all over his mouth. Carlos had smiled at the sight and had nearly leaned in to lick it off. He only realized what he was doing when Lando’s eyes widened, snapping him out of it, and he became aware of all the people around them.
Sometimes he forgot everything when it came to Lando.
The second time had been while they were grocery shopping with Martim. Lando had said something ridiculous, and Carlos had burst out laughing. A moment later, he had the sudden urge to kiss him—just a quick one, the kind meant to express the overwhelming affection you feel in that exact moment.
The third time was that night. Lando stood by the door, ready to head to bed, looking at him with those sleepy, needy eyes Carlos knew so well.
Carlos had wanted nothing more than to kiss him right there, standing up, not caring who might see them.
While those thoughts swirled in his head, Lando was watching him closely.
“Someone might see you leaving,” he reminded him, making it clear that they didn’t have time for each other—not right now.
Carlos nodded and his expression darkened slightly. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep everything they felt for each other hidden.
Sometimes he just wanted to tell the people closest to him. He wished he could hold his hand or touch him without fear hanging over them.
Some days, waiting until they were completely alone felt unbearable.
Especially when work was hard—when he saw the sadness in Lando’s eyes on a screen and couldn’t be there for him.
Or when they were happy, incredibly happy, and all they wanted was to be together and share that feeling.
Lando understood from his persistent silence that this was one of those moments when it all became unbearable for him. So, he let go of any sense of responsibility, grabbed the edges of that light blue sweatshirt, and pulled him closer, burying his head in the curve of Carlos’s neck.
Carlos wrapped his arms tightly around him and breathed in his scent deeply.
He wished he could wake up like this every day—with Lando’s eyes so close and his scent filling the room.
Then Lando brought his mouth close to his ear and whispered,
“One day it’ll just be Lando and Carlos. No Formula One, just the two of us, being ourselves on an ordinary vacation.”
He was trying to remind him that they would make it—together.
Carlos’s fingers tightened around him, and then he pulled back just enough to look into his eyes.
Their noses touched, and
“One day,”
Carlos whispered against his lips, as if to seal the promise they had always shared.
They stayed like that, soaking in the calm of the moment. Lando said something silly, and Carlos laughed, shaking off some of the sadness that had clung to him all day.
Later, he would quietly slip out of that room, still a little upset by the fact that he could only live this love in secret—but with his heart full of the feeling only Lando could give him.
Because he knew that all the lies they lived in—publicly, but also privately; all the moments that were only theirs, in hotel rooms, houses, or hidden corners of the world; those kisses that were getting harder and harder to steal, and that sex he sometimes craved so badly it made him feel like he might lose his mind—
he knew that one day all of it would come into the light, with no more fear or pain. Just happiness—because they would finally be able to live as they wanted.
Lando had a way of reminding him of that with nothing more than a look—because some days, Carlos just couldn’t get past the anger that built up inside him. He hated not being able to touch or kiss him whenever he wanted. He hated that he only had Lando in stolen moments that never felt like enough.
So he stared out at the rain through the glass doors and thought about that day—the one he spoke about in every interview, the one no one else could imagine.
No one but them.