Work Text:
That was it. The checkered flag was waved, and though Oscar had placed a respectable second, the championship would still go to Lando. Oscar knew he should feel happy for his teammate, but how could he when he was so close to claiming the championship himself.
It was bad enough realising that he failed himself, but worse knowing he’d also failed everyone that had helped him to get to this point. The start of the season was his. Everyone said he was guaranteed to be the next Australian WDC since Alan Jones. His name was meant to be placed with all the greats. Michael Schumacher, Lewis Hamilton, Alain Prost, Aryton Senna, all of them were hailed as gods of their sport, gods Oscar was supposed to join. The championship was almost guaranteed to be his. He had managed to pull ahead and hold it. At least for a little while anyway.
Oscar’s body didn’t feel like his own. He wasn’t sure how he was making it through all of the questions. His voice was hollow and fake, he hoped no one could tell. Even after the final interview was over, he still had a debrief. Although Oscar wanted to get out of there as soon as possible, he couldn’t help but feel a little thankful for all of the work because work meant stalling from going back to the two people he dreaded seeing the most.
The team congratulated him for doing his best. To Oscar, the word best had lost its meaning. If finishing third in the standings was his best, what was the point in trying for the title? Everyone waited for Lando in the conference room. When he finally arrived, his eyes were slightly red from crying, his face a bit puffy, curls damp and stuck to his forehead, and an unwavering grin plastered across his face. Normally Oscar loved his smile, but it felt like a punch in the gut to see it then. Before the meeting started, he gave Lando a quick hug telling him he was glad that at least one of them won. Once Zak began speaking Oscar’s mind wandered elsewhere. All he wanted was to be home in bed. He wished he could sleep until March. The briefing was over and everyone cleared out of the room, Oscar being one of the last few to leave.
Oscar found his hand hovering over the hospitality door. Going in meant getting away from the hectic hubbub from the day's race, and general chaos of the season, but going in also meant facing something that was just as bad, at least it was in Oscar’s eyes.
Sucking in a deep breath, he pushed open the doors. Sat at a table tucked away in the corner were Mark and Sebastian. Hearing the door open, they looked up and immediately went over to Oscar. He still had that weak forged smile on, but the second they were in front of him, it wavered just in the slightest.
“Oscar,” started Mark.
“I’m sorry. I know I should’ve fought harder. I tried, I really did.”
Seb and Mark shared a look.
“Mate it’s not about that. Forget the championship for a minute. Are you okay?”
Was he okay? Oscar didn’t really know how he felt. All he knew was that it wasn’t a good feeling. Angry, sad, frustrated, fatigued, disappointed, tired. He supposed those all fit, but he didn’t want to admit that to either of his fathers.
“I’m fine, dad.”
He noted how drained he sounded. The glassy eyes and all too familiar look told Mark everything he needed to know. He hated seeing Oscar upset. He especially hated that stupid phony PR smile Oscar thought he could use with them.
How he was meant to comfort his son, he didn’t know. When Mark had been in his shoes just fifteen years prior, all he wanted was to be left alone. That was the type of person Mark was, but he knew Oscar wasn’t like that and he needed verbal reassurance.
Mark was thinking of what to say when a quiet choked out sob came from the boy in front of him.
“Oh Osc…”
Oscar angled his head to the ground as his tears fell. Mark instinctively stepped forward and pulled him into a hug while Seb went off to find a bottle of water and some tissues.
Mark wasn’t sure how long they stood there. If he was being honest, he didn’t really care either. He would stand there holding his son for as long as he needed him to. Eventually Mark pulled his head back just enough to see Oscar.
“Look at me. Oscar, what’s wrong?”
Oscar kept his head tucked to his father’s chest, wishing more than anything that he could just disappear.
Seb felt useless standing there so he figured it was his turn to try and get him to open up. Putting a hand on Oscar’s shoulder and pulling on it a bit, he spoke delicately.
“Osc, please talk to us. We know you’re upset, but talking could help?”
Mark could feel Oscar tense in his arms but he still turned his head to look at Seb.
Seb’s face visibly scrunched at seeing Oscar’s. Much like Mark, Sebastian hated seeing their son in such distress. His cheeks were flushed pink with blotchy red spots, lashes were stuck together from his tears, and it was topped with what Seb interpreted as a look of fear. Fear? Sebastian couldn’t think of a reason for him to be afraid. The season was over, the championship was claimed, Oscar was without injury, and he wouldn’t have to get back in the car for at least another two months. There wasn’t anything he should be fearing, at least nothing Seb could muse up.
Seb took his hand off Oscar and instead placed it on Mark’s forearm, tugging on it slightly to signal for him to let go so he could take over. With Mark out of the way, Seb took his place and put both hands on either side of Oscar, resting them on his upper arm.
Rather than using his words, Seb gave Oscar a look that said more than words could. Sebastian could tell he was a bit lost on his head, a head that was surely feeling a bit stuffed from after the day’s events. It wasn’t for another minute that Oscar spoke.
“Are you disappointed in me?”
Immediately following his words, Oscar’s face crumpled and it was Sebastian that hugged him in this time.
“Oscar, what could we possibly be disappointed about?”
He thought for a second, contemplating his next words.
“That I’m not like you. That I’m not a champion.” His voice was no louder than a whisper.
Sebastian couldn’t help but kick himself internally. He wondered if he or Mark had pushed the idea onto him that he had to be some great champion in order to succeed in their line of work.
Squeezing him a little tighter, Seb spoke softly.
“Osc…you pushed all season long, you didn’t stop. You’re only in your third year and you’re already doing more than people who’ve been in this game for far longer. A championship is great, but it’s nothing more than a title. At the end of the day, you’re safe and that’s all we could ask for.”
Stepping back, Sebastian wanted to be sure Oscar understood him.
“Please don’t ever think something as silly as a championship would change how your dad or I feel about you. We’re beyond proud of you and we couldn’t ask for a better son.”
Oscar felt like crying again. He wasn’t sure how he could’ve been so reluctant to come back to them when he knew they were one of the few people that truly knew how to cheer him up.
“I’m sorry, pa.”
“Stop saying you’re sorry, you’ve nothing to be sorry for.”
Oscar nodded and looked over to Mark. Mark had wanted to step in, but he knew better than most that his husband was more than capable of lifting other’s spirits. After all, they’d been in a similar situation not even two decades prior.
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you think we could just skip talking about racing for at least a week…I just wanna go home.”
Both Mark and Seb huffed a laugh.
“Of course.”
After collecting their belongings, they made their way to the door before Seb paused and pulled something out of the side-pocket on his backpack.
“Before I forget, here.”
Oscar looked down to Seb’s hand to see he was holding a medium sized folded black bag.
“What’s in it?”
Mark ruffled Oscar’s hair to get his attention. Maybe he was a little more tired than he thought.
“Maybe open it mate?”
“Right.”
He pulled off the top layer of orange tissue paper to reveal a stack of Tim Tams. A stupid tired grin spread across Oscar’s face.
“Oh you’ve no idea how badly I’ve been craving these.”
“I figured as much. Enjoy it Osc, that’s the least of what you deserve.”
Looking to his parents, Oscar couldn’t help but feel overwhelmingly thankful that these were the people he was able to call home. The season was hell, but he knew he could always go to them for support.
“Thank you both so much. I don’t know how I could’ve gotten through the season without you.”
“You’re stronger than you think mate, don’t think otherwise.” Mark nudged his arm. “You’re a Vettel-Webber after all.”
Normally Oscar would’ve rolled his eyes at something he’d considered corny, but now he only smiled and shook his head.
“Right, now let’s get out of here. I’ve got a warm bed with my name on it and by the looks of it, you look like you need it too.”