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They’d only been seeing each other for a few weeks — that soft, shimmering stage where everything felt new and a little fragile. They hadn’t stayed over at each other’s places yet, though they’d hovered in doorways long enough that neighbours probably assumed they had.
Tonight was supposed to be simple: takeaway, a film, and the kind of easy conversation that made Lando feel like he was floating.
Oscar’s flat was warm and cluttered in a charming way: books stacked in uneven piles, a plant that was definitely dying, a blanket draped over the back of the sofa like it lived there permanently. Lando liked it immediately. It felt lived‑in. Safe.
Oscar had opened the door with a grin that could power a small city. “Delivery for a very handsome man,” he announced, holding up a bag of Thai food.
Lando rolled his eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet you keep coming over.”
Lando stepped inside, heart doing its usual traitorous flutter. “I’m weak.”
Oscar bumped his shoulder as he passed. “You’re charmed.”
They settled on the sofa, legs brushing, the movie playing mostly as background noise. Oscar kept making commentary under his breath-little jokes, little observations- and Lando kept pretending he wasn’t smiling at every single one.
It was perfect.
Until it wasn’t.
***
The first twinge hit during the second hald of the film- a sharp, twisting pinch low in Lando’s abdomen. He stiffened, breath catching.
Not now. Not here.
He shifted slightly, hoping it was just a blip. Sometimes his body gave false alarms. Sometimes he could will it into behaving.
But then came the second wave- deeper, hotter, unmistakable.
His stomach clenched. Sweat prickled at the back of his neck.
Oscar noticed immediately. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Lando said too quickly. “Just… sat weird.”
Oscar nodded, accepting it. He always accepted things at face value, which Lando usually loved. Tonight it felt like a curse.
He tried to focus on the movie. On Oscar’s arm resting casually along the back of the sofa. On the warmth of being near someone he actually liked.
But the pain sharpened again, sudden and brutal.
Lando inhaled sharply.
Oscar turned. “Lando?”
“I’m fine,” Lando said, forcing a smile. “Just need the bathroom.”
He stood too fast. The room tilted. His gut twisted violently.
Oscar half‑rose. “Do you want—”
“No,” Lando said, sharper than intended. “I’m good. Just— bathroom.”
He hurried down the hall, trying to walk normally, trying not to panic.
He didn’t make it.
Halfway there, the pain surged and his body betrayed him completely. A hot, humiliating rush he couldn’t stop. His breath hitched. His vision blurred.
No. No, no, no.
He stumbled into Oscar’s bathroom, shutting the door with shaking hands. He leaned against the sink, heart pounding, shame flooding him so fast he felt dizzy.
He’d had accidents before. Crohn’s didn’t care about dignity. But never like this. Never in someone else’s home. Never with someone he liked sitting in the next room.
He looked down at himself-at the mess, the ruined boxers, the trembling hands-and felt something inside him crack.
He needed a shower. He needed clean clothes. He needed to disappear.
And he needed to tell Oscar.
He pressed his palms to his eyes, breathing hard.
This was the moment he’d always feared.
***
Oscar waited on the sofa for exactly one minute before standing.
Lando had looked pale. Not just pale-grey. And the way he’d rushed off…
Oscar hovered outside the bathroom door, not knocking, just listening.
“Lando?” he called softly. “You okay in there?”
Silence.
Then a shaky breath.
Oscar’s chest tightened. “I’m right here if you need anything.”
Still nothing.
He didn’t push. But he didn’t walk away either.
Inside, Lando stared at the shower, then at the door, then at himself.
He couldn’t hide this. Not from Oscar. Not when he needed help.
He swallowed hard, forcing his voice to work.
“Oscar?”
Instantly: “Yeah?”
Lando closed his eyes. “I… need to borrow some clothes.”
A pause. Not long. Just enough for Oscar to process the unusual request.
“Of course,” Oscar said gently. “What do you need?”
Lando’s voice wobbled. “Everything. Boxers too.”
Another pause- longer this time.
Then Oscar’s voice, soft and careful: “Okay. Anything particular? Top? Hoddie?”
Lando told him. Oscar moved quietly around his bedroom, opening drawers, gathering clothes. Lando heard the soft rustle of fabric, the gentle way Oscar handled things, like he knew not to make noise.
Oscar returned to the door. “I’ve got them. Want me to just… leave them outside?”
Lando’s throat tightened. “Yeah. Thanks.”
Oscar set them down. “Do you need anything else?”
Lando hesitated.
This was it.
He could lie. He could say he spilled something. He could pretend.
But he was tired. And scared. And Oscar had been nothing but kind.
He took a shaky breath.
“I had an accident.”
Silence.
Then Oscar said, voice warm and steady, “Okay. Thank you for telling me.”
Lando blinked hard. “It’s not-it’s not like a normal accident.”
“I figured,” Oscar said gently. “Do you want to tell me more, or do you want to shower first?”
Lando let out a shaky laugh. “Shower. Definitely shower.”
“Alright,” Oscar said. “I’ll be right out here.”
Lando stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the mess, the fear, the humiliation. His body still hurt, but the panic eased a little.
Oscar knew.
And Oscar hadn’t run.
***
When Lando finally emerged, wrapped in clean clothes and damp hair, Oscar was sitting on the sofa, hands folded, expression open and calm.
He looked up immediately. “Hey.”
Lando hovered awkwardly. “Hey.”
Oscar patted the seat beside him. “Come sit?”
Lando did, slowly, curling into himself.
Oscar didn’t touch him, didn’t crowd him. Just waited.
After a long moment, Lando whispered, “I have Crohn’s.”
Oscar nodded. “Okay.”
“That means… stuff like this happens. Sometimes. Not often. But sometimes.”
Oscar’s voice stayed soft. “I’m really glad you told me.”
Lando let out a humorless laugh. “You say that now.”
Oscar tilted his head. “Do you think I’m going to be grossed out?”
Lando stared at his hands. “Most people would be.”
Oscar nudged his knee gently. “I’m not most people.”
Lando’s breath hitched. “I didn’t want you to see me like that.”
Oscar smiled softly. “I didn’t see anything. Except you being brave enough to ask for help.”
Lando blinked. “Brave?”
“Yeah,” Oscar said. “You could’ve lied. You could’ve panicked. You could’ve told me to fuck off. Instead you let me stay.”
Lando swallowed. “I didn’t really have a choice.”
Oscar shook his head. “You did. And you chose to trust me.”
Lando looked at him then, really looked, and saw nothing but sincerity.
It made his chest ache.
Oscar reached out, slow and careful, and rested a hand on Lando’s knee. “How are you feeling now?”
“Embarrassed,” Lando admitted.
Oscar grinned. “Okay, but like… on a scale of one to ‘I once walked into a glass door at a restaurant and a toddler laughed at me,’ where are we?”
Lando snorted. “That happened to you?”
“Tragically, yes.”
Lando shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’m… maybe an eight.”
“Alright,” Oscar said. “We can work with eight.”
Lando leaned back, exhaling slowly. “You’re taking this really well.”
Oscar shrugged. “I like you. A lot. And liking someone means dealing with the human parts too.”
Lando’s voice softened. “This is a pretty big human part.”
“Then I’ll learn,” Oscar said simply. “Teach me.”
Lando stared at him, stunned. “You want to know?”
“Of course,” Oscar said. “If we’re going to keep dating, I want to understand what you deal with. I want to know how to help.”
Lando’s heart squeezed. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” Oscar said firmly. “And also, for the record, you handled that way better than I would’ve.”
Lando blinked. “What?”
“If I had a medical condition that could ambush me like that,” Oscar said, “I’d probably just lie down on the floor and accept my fate.”
Lando laughed-a real one this time. “You’re an idiot.”
Oscar grinned. “Your idiot, hopefully.”
Lando’s cheeks warmed. “Maybe.”
Oscar’s expression softened. “Can I hug you?”
Lando nodded.
Oscar wrapped his arms around him, warm and steady. Lando melted into him, letting the tension drain from his body.
After a long moment, Oscar murmured into his hair, “You’re allowed to have bad moments, Lando. It doesn’t make you less. It doesn’t make you unlovable.”
Lando’s breath caught. “You think I’m lovable?”
Oscar’s grin was immediate. “Oh, absolutely. I’m in deep trouble.”
Lando laughed again, softer this time. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re stuck with me.”
Lando leaned into him, letting himself believe it.
***
Later, when Lando’s eyelids drooped and the pain settled into a dull ache, Oscar stood and offered a hand.
“Come on,” he said gently. “You need to lie down.”
Lando blinked. “On… your bed?”
“Yeah,” Oscar said. “You’re not sleeping on the couch when you feel like this.”
Lando hesitated, heart suddenly racing. Not from pain-from nerves.
Oscar noticed instantly. “Hey. What’s going on?”
Lando swallowed. “I’ve never… shared a bed with someone before.”
Oscar’s expression softened into something impossibly tender. “Oh.”
Lando looked away. “It’s stupid.”
“It’s not,” Oscar said immediately. “It’s important.”
He stepped closer, voice warm. “Do you want me to sleep on top of the covers? Or on the floor? I would say the couch, but I want to be close in case you suddenly get sicker.”
Lando’s breath hitched. “You’d… sleep on the floor?”
“In a heartbeat,” Oscar said. “Whatever makes you feel safe.”
Lando stared at him, overwhelmed. “I… think top of the covers is okay.”
Oscar smiled. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”
He guided Lando to the bedroom, pulled back the duvet, and helped him settle in. Then, with a gentleness that made Lando’s chest ache, Oscar tucked the blanket around him, smoothing it over his shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Lando’s heart thudded wildly.
Oscar noticed, of course. “Still nervous?”
“A little,” Lando whispered.
Oscar leaned down and kissed his forehead. “Then I’ll be extra gentle.”
He climbed onto the bed, staying on top of the covers like he’d promised, close enough to reach but not crowding.
Lando exhaled slowly, the tension easing.
Oscar smiled softly. “See? We’re okay.”
Lando nodded, eyes fluttering shut. “Yeah. We are.”
And for the first time that night, he felt safe.
Not because the pain was gone.
But because Oscar stayed.
Because Oscar cared.
Because Oscar wasn’t going anywhere.