Work Text:
SHOW OF STRENGTH
*Lando*
It's a huge show of strength. The biggest I've ever experienced.
I'm young, I can't have faced so many things to say nothing will be worse than this, but up until now I've still had to face many high-pressure moments and they were so powerful that they put me in a crisis during this season, the season of my true growth.
But this, what I'm experiencing at this precise moment of my existence, still has no comparison to what I've experienced so far.
And I still remember well when, at the beginning of the season, unable to manage myself, the emotions, the pressure and my ADHD, I went into depression convinced I was finished and unable to achieve anything important in my life.
But this, now, is worse than that.
It's a strong statement, but a fully conscious one.
Every time I'm close to him and he brushes against me or even touches me, when our eyes meet, when we smile, when we have to talk and joke and it's always fantastic to communicate with each other. Every time I make him laugh, when I see him at ease in my company, when he laughs at a joke of mine or when he tells one, when our hands shake, when we're side by side.
Every time there's an interaction between us, I, inside, die.
Because I want to jump on him, overdo it as I usually do, hug him, kiss him, push him into a corner and take off his clothes, or even just cuddle up to him, cuddle us like two cats in love, but I can't. I have to be content with these light touches, his hand that timidly and lightly rests on my back when we're close together for a group photo. I have to be content with his smiles or his laughter, these fun exchanges between us, but not profound, not private.
I have to be content with being in front of him.
I have to tolerate when he stares at me intensely from up close, perhaps in front of everyone. When he looks at me in that serious way that I know perfectly well, he's thinking about the two of us, about how he feels, if he still feels it, all the things he'd like to say and do with me and how much he misses me. How much he misses my hugs.
Because Oscar has no more secrets for me.
I sigh and release myself from the photo, he lowers his arm, we look at each other briefly, very quickly, fleetingly, our eyes meet, we share a melancholy smile that lasts too little to be noticed by anyone else around here and our luck, right now, is that we're not alone and there are photographers, journalists and lots of people watching. So we can't.
We can't hold hands, clasp them, squeeze. We can't hide into a corner and kiss. We can't hug.
We can only sigh and move on, pretending nothing happened.
We managed to do one Grand Prix without thinking about it, Las Vegas; the next one, Qatar, we can't. We can't stay away from each other and pretend nothing happened. It's impossible.
We act like we used to before we got together. Like when every touch was a thrill, every look was hope, every exchange of words was a flight.
It's beautiful this way too, but it's different, because before it was the unknown, now there's certainty.
We love each other, we're together, we can't now, but we'll be back.
Oh yes, we will be back.
Otherwise I think I'd go crazy and even if I won the World Cup, I'm sure I wouldn't be able to be as happy. I move forward with the sole certainty and hope that it will be truly wonderful, on December 7th, in two weeks.
Not because of my result, which I terrify the thought of, but because no matter what happens, at least I'll have him back.
The anxiety grows, grows with every passing minute.
Will I really win the world championship in the end?
Could I really?
This year has been crazy, a roller coaster.
I started thinking it was my year, McLaren was incredibly strong and no one was chasing us, we didn't make any mistakes, we were perfect and I immediately believed it would be my year. But as soon as I realized what it meant—a long year of mistake-free races where I had to be practically perfect—I lost my way.
From the moment I started making mistakes under pressure and couldn't concentrate anymore, I spiraled and depression engulfed me.
At that moment Oscar began to shine. He wasn't bothered by anything, nothing touched him, he was perfect, he never made a mistake, he was exactly what I wanted to be and couldn't.
When he overtook me, I spent races, weeks, months convincing myself that he would win, that I could never win with all the mental problems I had, but I knew how to ask for help and accept it.
I worked on myself because I had nothing left to lose and slowly I began to change, to recover.
Inspired by Oscar and how perfect he was, how he always knew what to do and how to do it. He shone, how could I deserve to be by his side? Was it possible that I wasn't up to his level?
I cared, I cared so much. I did everything I could, I listened to my therapist, I trusted him and I threw myself into Oscar, into his love, into everything I felt for him and received from him, and I don't know when, I don't know how, but at a certain point I managed to get back on track.
I got back on track. It was slow but gradual, until I was back on top, where I'd been at the beginning of the year, and I was no longer afraid of making mistakes, I was no longer in the drama of pressure and mistakes.
I simply ran free from any distractions. Suddenly, driving was automatic. When it became, I made fewer mistakes and realized I was strong. That I could do it. That I had a chance. I finally believed in myself.
While I was doing well, Oscar was faltering, losing his way, making mistakes. It was as if we had switched places.
It's incomprehensible what happened to us, but I think love had the opposite effect on each of us.
In short, it made me stronger, more confident and more focused; for Oscar, it made him lose, distracted him, disconnected him.
I'm sorry he went through this because of me, but if he now needs to detach himself from me to rediscover his talent, I have to give him that. Even if it's hard because now that I'm running at the top of the world rankings again, knowing that in the end I could actually win, Max permitting, I'm fucking scared.
Because I never really believed it, except maybe for the first two races of the year.
I never really believed it. But now I do.
Now I do.
And that's the problem.
I have to run the last two races with Max who's making up ground and could ultimately win. Max, who's the strongest driver of all time alongside Michael and Lewis, is certainly the strongest currently racing.
I have to race with the knowledge that I can't make any mistakes if I want to win the world championship. Because it's not that I can just win it, I WANT to win it.
But I'm not good at doing things under all this pressure. At the beginning of the year, I devoured myself. Will it work like this again?
I need Oscar. I need him, his calm, his confidence, his placid smile and his realism.
I need his hand on mine, his arm around my shoulders, his sweet kisses. His apparent strength, his hidden fragility.
I need him to look at me and tell me that I can do it and that everything will be okay, but he can't because now he's looking in the mirror, like I am before taking to the track for the penultimate race of the year, and he's saying exactly what I want him to say to me.
That he can do it. So he can't tell me, he's telling himself.
We want the same thing, we're fighting for the same thing and I feel like I've stolen his dream because it was mine too, and now I'm also terrified that we won't actually get over this. That we won't tolerate it, that we'll end up like Lewis and Rosberg, hating each other, as everyone has been saying for months.
Will we end up like this?
Is this the end for us? Is getting back together an illusion? We told each other this to get through these last races, but in reality will we never make it if one of us wins and the other doesn't?
And now I have to race withg this thought, this excruciating terror that grips my stomach and twists my insides and makes me want to vomit.
I'm alone and I have to do it. I have to live with tremendous anxieties and fears and I have to run a perfect race, and by perfect I mean winning without ever making a mistake.
If I overcome this, if I overcome all of this, I can overcome anything in the rest of my life.
With this awareness I leave my room and go get my things to start getting dressed for the penultimate race of the season.
It's time. Even if I'm alone, I'll still make it.
*Oscar*
I thought it was the best temporary solution, but the truth is I can neither ignore him like I did in Las Vegas, nor live with him peacefully and normally like I'm trying here in Qatar.
The fact is, it's difficult in any case, but after Las Vegas, where we didn't even look at each other or speak and it was like we were two neighboring strangers, I realized I'd run like shit anyway and that the sacrifice would be for nothing.
Lando has always limited himself to indulging me in order to please me, to make me do what I wanted. That's not for everyone. Not to mention that he's the only one, aside from my family, who understands me so well.
He doesn't resist, he's not nervous, he doesn't snap, he doesn't throw bad taste arrows at me—quite the opposite.
He went and asked Andrea and Zack to let us do less social media content so we wouldn't have to spend less time together, so we could focus more on the final, delicate phase of the championship. Because everything we do together is a huge distraction for us. Not to mention torture.
I thought it was right, but I had to recap and now in Qatar we've started interacting again. I started, and Lando, surprised, followed me. I think if I pushed him into a corner and kissed him, he'd welcome me back. I know he's hurting by our separation.
You might think I did it on purpose, that I'm trying to tear him down emotionally to push him into making mistakes, but that's not the case. It's nothing against him, on the contrary.
It's just that I have to try to do everything I can for the Oscar F1 driver, before embracing change, understanding it and adapting.
I'll become a new Oscar, but not now. I can't right now. Now I have to be the pragmatic one who isn't affected by what happens, the one who manages to do what needs to be done, who thinks clearly about the best maneuvers and who doesn't make a big deal if something doesn't go as planned.
I have to go back to being that Oscar.
Of course, if Lando didn't do this every time we're together, it would be easier.
He doesn't look at me.
He almost never looks at me, except fleetingly, and when he does, his smiles are so sweet and spontaneous, filled with such obvious, shameless hope that he realizes it himself and immediately looks away.
He masks his mood by laughing while looking away, or by focusing on the conversations of those who ask questions, even though he usually never listens to them because they bore him.
And I can't help but stare at him intensely, as if I were absolutely captivated by him and his constant efforts to please me and not hurt me.
He's doing everything he can to help me. I won't throw our efforts away.
I'll have the most perfect last two races of my career and if I don't win, it will be because the people ahead of me were better than me, not because I made a mistake.
I have to focus on myself, on driving, on the car.
Put away the noises, the smells, the images, the perceptions, the memories, the desires, the feelings and the emotions.
I push everything away as I look in the mirror and hypnotize myself with my serious eyes.
Nothing exists anymore.
The past is erased, the future doesn't exist, in the present there's only me, the car and the track.
I feel nothing. I hear nothing. I just want to run, nothing else.
I forget everything, I raise for the penultimate time the wall that will protect me from the chaos outside, from life itself, from everything.
In here there's only me, the car and the track.
I'm safe.
My breathing is regular, my fingers on my wrist send a calm pulse, my pupils are normal. No trace of anxiety. My mind is stuck here where I want it to be.
I'm alone, finally, and I'm fine, just as I've always been. Alone.
I'll see the rest on December 7th.
Freeze my feelings? Did I really think it was that easy?
I had a great race and I'm happy with myself, even though I didn't win and the championship is getting further and further away.
Max first, me second. After Lando and I were disqualified last race, Max gained a lot of points on us; he can really do it, especially after this victory.
Lando fourth surprises me, but only up to a point.
I knew it wasn't a great idea to break away from him, but it actually worked for me because since I did it, I've been racing better, even if I'm still feeling bad.
Every time I get out of the car after whatever I do, be it qualifying, a sprint, or an official race, just seeing him makes me melt.
Every time he smiles at me—and he always does, even if it's by mistake, out of habit, because it's spontaneous—my wall crumbles.
But that's okay because at least while I'm racing I can keep it up; it serves its purpose.
I think I couldn't do it before because I was too addicted to Lando and what we did together; I was constantly thinking about us, about later, about when we'd be able to jump on each other again, about what he'd say and do, what we could do together, what to say to... well, now there's nothing except a few sweet smiles we exchange, a few jokes, a few dutiful handshakes and then that's it.
Immediately afterward we get back on track, we remember we're on a break and we can't. He lowers his gaze and fades his smile and I'm left staring at him stunned.
Staring at him dreamily, imagining when on December 7th I'll be back to kiss him and hold him and give us unimaginable pleasure.
I had a good weekend, even if it wasn't exactly what I'd hoped for, but I won the Sprint race and got pole in regular qualifying, and then I finished second in the race. I can't complain; I have some hope, even if it all depends on what the others do in the next and final race. I should be lucky, as well as skilled, but getting back to racing at my level is a great sign.
I reflect and evaluate the possibilities, fully aware that it won't depend only on me and that the chances of winning the world championship are low, but mathematically it's there.
And yet I feel nothing.
The idea of winning or losing doesn't change me, doesn't excite me, doesn't make me anxious.
What does make me anxious, however, is the idea that I'm hurting Lando so much that he might change his mind on December 7th; even if he smiles sweetly at me now and his eyes continue to look at me full of hope and then flee from contact with me, he could still decide that he can't do it, that he doesn't want to get back together, that I'm hurting him too much, that I'm being capricious.
And what if that's the case? What if in the end he's the one to tell me he's fed up and doesn't want to get back together?
Oh no, Oscar. It wasn't supposed to go this way.
This wasn't how you imagined it.
I got my driver Oscar back as I wanted, but the truth is it doesn't make me feel anything, not even a shred of satisfaction, even though I did what I wanted, or almost.
The truth is I'm still focused on Lando and on us, despite everything.
Where's that control gone?
Once you lose it, is it gone forever?
Will I never be the same again? Do I no longer have the chance to be that way? Whether I like it or not, am I already a new Oscar, who still doesn't know himself well and doesn't manage himself at all?
Is that the situation?
Am I doing it all for nothing?
I suppose we'll know in a week. It's too late to think about it now.