Chapter Text
The longest they’d ever gone without touching before this was two weeks.
Short absences that always came with an end date circled on a calendar, something solid to reach for. This was different. This came with a boarding pass and a future that stretched just far enough to feel frightening.
The airport was too bright for how early it was. Everything echoed, wheels rolling across floors, voices layered over one another, and the constant hum of people moving somewhere else. Lando stood beside Oscar with his shoulder pressed firmly into his arm, like if he kept the contact long enough, it might convince the universe to reconsider.
Oscar’s suitcase stood in front of them, zipped shut. It felt too final.
“You’re gonna forget something,” Lando said, eyes fixed on it.
Oscar smiled, bumping their hips together lightly. “I’ve checked three times.”
Lando hummed, unconvinced. He had his hands tucked into the sleeves of his hoodie, despite it being too hot for clothes like that. His fingers curled around the fabric. The hoodie still smelled like Oscar.
He tried to memorise everything, the warmth of Oscar’s side, the steady rise and fall of his breathing, his calmness, his laugh, the way his lips feel, the way he cares, the familiar weight of standing next to him in places they had stood together since they were kids.
Since before loving Oscar like this had even crossed his mind.
“You’ll text me when you land,” Lando said.
Oscar nodded immediately. “And when I get my bags. And when Max tries to keep Charles from wandering off.”
Lando let out a small laugh. “Charles will pretend he knows exactly where he’s going.”
Max and Charles hovered a few steps away, pretending very badly not to listen. Max kept shifting his backpack higher on his shoulder, keeping his eye on his suitcase, while Charles scrolled on his phone, pretending like this was just another day. Lando was painfully aware of them, of the fact that they were coming with Oscar. Following him across the world.
Lando tried not to let the jealousy sit too loudly in his chest.
He knew why he couldn’t go. He’d gone over the numbers a hundred times already. Tuition, rent, flights. Australia might as well have been the moon. It didn’t make the wanting go away.
Oscar seemed to feel it. He always did.
He turned slightly, lowering his voice. “Hey.”
Lando looked up.
“We’ll make it work,” Oscar said, simple and steady, like he’d already decided this was just another thing they’d get through. “It’s not forever, and we’ll be good at it.”
Lando nodded, throat tight. “I know.”
He tried to take a breath, but it came out wrong. His chest tightened, and he blinked hard, once, then again, willing himself to get it together, to not do this here of all places. His vision blurred anyway.
Oscar turned to him. “Lan,” he said quietly.
Lando shook his head, a small, helpless motion. “I’m sorry,” he whispered as his eyes filled. “I just…”
The tears slipped down his cheeks, steady and uncontrollable. He turned his face away instinctively, almost embarrassed, shoulders curling inward like he could fold himself around the feeling and hide it.
Oscar’s hands were on him instantly. He stepped closer, closing the last bit of space, one hand sliding up to hold the back of Lando’s neck, the other settling warm and sure against his spine. He guided Lando to lean against him.
“Hey,” Oscar murmured. “Baby, it’s okay.”
A small, broken sound escaped Lando as he leaned forward, hiding his face in Oscar’s neck. His fingers twisted into the fabric of Oscar’s shirt, gripping like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His breathing stuttered, every breath sounding too shallow.
Oscar held him. He wrapped both his arms around Lando and pulled him even closer. He pressed his cheek against Lando’s hair and stayed there, breathing slowly.
“I’ve got you,” Oscar whispered, his voice low and rough. “I’ve got you, Lan.”
Lando shook quietly, his tears soaked into the collar of Oscar’s shirt. He hated that he was crying like this and hated that he couldn’t stop, but Oscar didn’t loosen his hold even slightly.
“I don’t,” His voice cracked completely. He swallowed hard and tried again. “I don’t want you to go.”
Oscar’s breath stuttered, just barely, but enough that Lando felt it.
“I know,” he said. “I don’t want to go either.” Oscar placed a kiss on top of Lando’s head.
“I know you have to go, I just don’t want it.” Lando whispered into Oscar’s neck, the words muffled.
Oscar closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. “I don’t want to leave you like this.”
That shattered Lando’s heart into a million little pieces.
He pulled back just enough to look at Oscar, his eyes were red and shiny, lashes clumped together. “Then don’t,” he said, not seriously, not really. But it still felt too hopeful.
Oscar’s mouth trembled. He lifted one hand, thumb brushing under Lando’s eye, wiping away a tear that had already been replaced by another.
“I would stay if I could,” Oscar said quietly. “You know that.”
Lando nodded, even as his lip wobbled. “I know, Osc.”
Oscar leaned his forehead against Lando’s, breathing uneven now, like he was losing the careful control he’d been holding onto since they arrived. “I hate that I’m hurting you,” he said.
Lando shook his head immediately. “You’re not, I promise you. You’re not doing anything wrong, my love.”
Oscar let out a quiet, broken sound that didn’t quite make it to a laugh. “Still feels like it.”
Max cleared his throat. “I hate to be that guy,” he said, taking a deep breath. “But if we don’t go soon, we’re gonna miss the flight.”
Oscar nodded once, eyes still fixed on Lando, like he hadn’t quite processed the words yet. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Okay.”
He didn’t move. For a moment, none of them did.
Lando felt the moment slipping, time pulling at them whether he was ready or not.
Alex shifted first, walking towards Oscar, already opening his arms. Oscar hesitated letting Lando go, then stepped into the hug.
“Don’t be a stranger,” Alex said.
Oscar huffed out a breath. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
George went next. He didn’t say anything at first, just wrapped his arms around Oscar and squeezed. “Take care of yourself, yeah?”
Oscar nodded.
Max stepped forward, clapping a hand on George’s shoulder before pulling Alex into a quick hug as well, as Charles did the opposite.
“We’ll text you when we’re settled,” Charles said.
Max was standing closest to Lando.
Lando wrapped his arms around him without saying anything. Max hugged him back just as tightly. “Please remind him that he can always tell me anything when I’m not there to do so.” Lando whispered.
Max nodded, jaw tight. “Charles and I both will.”
Charles was next. He didn’t wait for Lando to come to him, stepping forward and pulling him into a hug that was softer.
Then it was just Lando and Oscar again.
The space between them felt heavier now, like the airport itself was holding its breath.
Oscar reached for him first, hands cupping Lando’s face, thumbs brushing over his cheeks where the tears hadn’t quite stopped. Lando leaned into the touch immediately, eyes squeezing shut.
“I love you,” Oscar said, voice barely above a whisper.
“I love you too,” Lando replied, there was never any doubt.
Oscar kissed him, slow and lingering. Lando kissed him back with everything he had left, hands sliding into Oscar’s hair, holding on like he always did. Oscar’s mouth moved against his in a way Lando knew by heart. They kissed like they had all the time in the world, like they weren’t standing in an airport with a flight leading to the other side of the world.
When they finally pulled back, they stayed close, their noses brushing as they were breathing each other in.
“I’ll think of you all the time,” Oscar murmured. “I promise. And I will show you Australia when you come to visit, okay?”
Lando nodded, tears spilling again. “I’d like that.” He let a small smile tug at his lips. “I’ll think of you always too, Osc.”
Oscar leaned in one last time, pressing a kiss to Lando’s lips. When he pulled back, a tear slipped free. It traced down his cheek slowly, catching in the light before he could wipe it away.
Lando felt it like a physical ache.
Oscar stepped back. Just one step and then another.
His hand lingered on Lando’s wrist, fingers twitching slightly. “I love you, Lan, so much. I’m not gonna let you forget that.” He slowly let go of Lando’s wrist.
“I love you more.” Lando said as he watched Oscar reach for his suitcase.
Max and Charles fell into step beside Oscar without a word.
Oscar looked back once, then again.
Lando lifted his hand, fingers trembling, and Oscar raised his too, a small smile on his face. Then he turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Lando stared at the floor, the echo of Oscar’s presence still clinging to him. His chest hurt in a way he didn’t have words for yet.
George’s hand settled gently on his shoulder, and Alex stepped closer on his other side. “Okay,” George said. “Let’s go.”
Lando nodded, wiping at his face with the sleeve of Oscar’s hoodie. He didn’t trust himself to speak. They walked towards the exit together, the airport was still loud, still bright, and still moving like nothing had changed at all.
It felt wrong stepping through the doors. It felt like crossing a line he wasn’t ready for yet.
They crossed the car park, the morning light bright around them. Lando’s steps felt heavy, like gravity had doubled when Oscar left. When they reached the car, George opened the back door without being asked.
Lando climbed in, closing the door and curling towards the window. He rested his forehead against the glass. As George and Alex got in, the doors shut with dull thuds that felt too final.
The engine started, and the airport disappeared behind them.
Lando’s chest felt hollow, like everything that had been keeping him upright had stayed behind at the airport. More tears came quietly, slipping down his cheeks. He didn’t bother wiping them away.
George kept both hands on the wheel, eyes fixed straight ahead. Alex sat in the passenger seat, turned just enough to keep Lando in his peripheral vision without making him feel watched.
Lando pressed his sleeve to his face, trying to steady himself. Oscar’s hoodie was warm where it was tucked over his hand. He wondered if Oscar was still waiting on his flight or if he was buckling his seatbelt right now. If Charles had said something stupid to break the tension or if Max was staring ahead of him much like George was.
George’s voice broke the silence. “We’re almost home.”
Lando nodded once, barely. His reflection in the window looked small.
Alex twisted in his seat to reach back, resting his hand briefly on Lando’s knee, trying to comfort him. Lando pressed his knee up slightly into Alex’s palm. It helped, but not enough to make it stop hurting.
A few minutes later George parked and turned the engine off. “We’re here.”
Lando didn’t move right away. He stayed curled against the door, eyes fixed on nothing, chest still tight. Alex didn’t rush him, George didn’t either. Eventually, Lando nodded and pushed the door open.
Summer clung to everything, sunlight catching on metal and glass, the city wide awake.
They walked inside the building together, up the stairs. The keys jingled too loudly in George’s hand. When the door opened, the apartment greeted them with echoes.
And boxes everywhere.
Stacked against walls, only some of them labelled with a marker. Some were already opened from when they brought them here. It smelled like cardboard and paint.
George dropped his keys onto the counter, and Alex set his bag down by the wall. Neither of them said anything as Lando took a few steps in, slow and uncertain.
Lando sat down on the couch they had also brought here a few days before. He rested his elbows on his knees, his shoulders slumped forward, and whatever he’d been holding inside finally slipped. He pressed his face into his hands and cried.
“Oh, Lando,” George said gently, sitting down next to him.
“You don’t have to unpack today,” Alex said. “Or tomorrow, or this week.”
Lando nodded against his hands. “I know.” His voice sounded rough. “It’s just so fucking unfair.” He finally looked up. “They get to go with him, and I can’t, and I can’t do anything about it. Not anymore. I should’ve tried harder.”
He dragged his hands down his face. “I just,” his voice broke, and he huffed out a breath, frustrated with himself. “I just really wanted to be there.”
Lando leaned back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling like it might give him answers.
“I wanted to see it,” he said after a moment. “Not just pictures or the way he talks about it.” His fingers twisted into the hem of the hoodie. “I wanted to see where he grew up.”
Ten years. Ten years before England, before boarding school, before Lando was even in the picture.
“You will,” Alex reminded him.
Lando swallowed. “Yes, but not right now.”
He blinked away tears that threatened to spill. “I’ve dreamed about seeing the street where he learned to ride a bike or the beach he keeps talking about.” His throat tightened. “I really wanted to hear his accent become stronger when he’s home. I wanted to watch him be himself there.”
He let his head fall back into his hands again.
“And instead,” he muttered, “Max and Charles get that.”
He hated the way the jealousy flared, hot and immediate. It felt ugly, even though he knew it wasn’t really about them.
“I love them, I do.” He exhaled sharply. “I just hate that they get to sit next to him on the plane.”
George shifted slightly. “You’re allowed to feel that,” he said without any judgement.
Silence settled, heavy but not uncomfortable. The apartment creaked around them, unfamiliar sounds already trying to become normal.
Lando glanced at the boxes stacked near the wall. One of them had ‘For Lando’ written in Oscar’s handwriting. He hadn’t even realised it was there before. He stood up abruptly and crossed the room.
Inside were things that didn’t belong to him alone. A framed photo from when they were 15, only a few days after they officially got together, whispering softly to each other, taken by Charles. Another hoodie Oscar had left on purpose. One of the blankets they used to share on movie nights.
Lando picked up the photo to show George and Alex. “Look at us. We were babies,” he said despite it being barely four years ago.
Alex smiled. “You still are,” he said.
Lando huffed out a quiet breath that almost sounded like a laugh. He set the photo back into the box carefully as he ran his thumb over the edge of the frame once more before closing the box again.
In the evening they ordered food instead of cooking. When the light outside shifted, Lando carried one box into his bedroom. The one with Oscar’s handwriting.
He took out the photo and put it down on the nightstand. The room felt empty, but a warmth blossomed in his chest, and it felt enough for now. He lay down on top of his covers, still wearing the hoodie, staring at the ceiling. The ache was still there, low and constant, but Lando closed his eyes and let himself imagine the future instead of the distance between them.
Lando didn’t remember falling asleep. One moment he was staring at the ceiling, thinking about Oscar, and the next, sunlight was spilling into his room while his phone buzzed loudly.
He groaned softly, fumbling for it with clumsy fingers. The screen was too bright as he pressed on it. He squinted, barely processing what he was seeing.
“Osc?” His voice came out rough, still half asleep.
Oscar froze on the other end, eyes widening. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” he said immediately, lowering his voice. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Lando blinked a few times. Oscar was on his screen, looking so real. His hair was a little messier than usual, cheeks flushed.
“No,” Lando mumbled, pushing himself up slightly against his pillow. “It’s okay. I’m glad it’s you.”
Oscar’s shoulders eased at that. “Are you sure it’s okay?” he asked softly. “What time is it for you?”
“It’s okay, Osc.” Lando reassured him, voice still thick with sleep. He squinted at the corner of his screen. “And it’s eight thirty.” He shifted, pulling the sleeve of his hoodie over his free hand. “So that means it’s evening for you, right?”
Oscar nodded. “Seven thirty.” The light in the living room he was standing in was warm and yellow from the lights. “I promise I was gonna wait, but then I kept thinking about you, and I,” He stopped himself, lips pressed together. “I just wanted to see your face.”
They looked at each other for a while, like neither of them quite knew where to start. Oscar’s gaze flicked briefly away from the camera and back again.
“How are you?” he asked finally.
Lando shrugged a little, then realised Oscar couldn’t really see it from this angle. He shifted and sat up properly against the headboard. “I’m okay. I cried a lot,” he said honestly. “But George and Alex were very patient.”
Oscar’s chest tightened, and he nodded slowly. “I keep replaying it,” he said quietly. “Leaving you like that. I hate it.”
“Osc, you literally held me until you really had to go,” Lando said, more awake now. He frowned a little. “You’re not doing anything wrong, I told you that before.”
Oscar let out a breath he’d clearly been holding.
Lando reached out without thinking, his thumb brushed over the side of the phone in a useless gesture. “I’m okay now, really. I just needed a little bit of time.” His eyes drifted off to the side for a moment, landing on the nightstand.
Oscar noticed the way his gaze softened. “What are you looking at?” He asked.
Lando smiled shyly. He tilted the phone slightly so Oscar could see. The framed photo sat there. Them at fifteen, pressed close together, Oscar with a big smile on his face as Lando whispered something.
“I put you here,” Lando said quietly. “So now you’re the first thing I see when I wake up.”
Oscar’s breath caught. “Lan.”
“Thank you for putting it in the box and the box in general.” Lando added, smiling wider now.
Oscar swallowed, his throat bobbing visibly. His eyes flicked down for half a second. “I wasn’t sure if it would be stupid,” he admitted quietly. “The box, I mean. I didn’t mean for it to feel like I was haunting your room or something.”
Lando shook his head immediately. “No. God, no, Osc.” He adjusted the phones so Oscar could see his face better. “It didn’t feel like that at all.”
Oscar’s mouth curved into a soft smile. “Okay,” he whispered. He walked to the kitchen and leaned against the counter. “The flight was alright. Charles talked for most of it.”
Lando huffed out a laugh. “Of course he did.”
Max's voice sounded faintly in the background, saying something Lando couldn’t quite make out. Oscar looked over briefly before looking back to his phone. “They’re arguing with each other about their bedroom decor.”
“Max will agree with Charles in the end anyway.”
They fell quiet after that, just watching each other. Oscar took in the way Lando was holding onto his hoodie sleeve and the way his curls were messed up where he’d slept on them.
“I hate that it’s already night for you,” Lando said eventually. “It feels unfair.”
Oscar tilted his head. “Why?”
“Because I just woke up,” Lando replied. “And you’re almost done with your day. It’s like we’re out of sync.”
Oscar hummed thoughtfully. “We’ll make it work,” he said, echoing his own words from the airport.
Lando nodded. He trusted Oscar with his entire heart.
“George and Alex are unpacking their stuff right now,” he said. “They’re also arguing.”
Oscar smiled at that. “Some things don’t change.” He glanced at the stove. “I should start making dinner,” he said, sounding a little bit tired.
Lando smiled softly. “You should go,” he said, even though the thought tugged at his chest. “You haven’t eaten properly in, like, a full day.”
Oscar hesitated. “Are you sure?”
Lando nodded, more certain than he felt. “Yeah. I’ll still be here when you’re done.”
“I know,” Oscar said. “I also know that I will start to hate hanging up.”
“Me too,” Lando admitted. He shifted against the headboard, fingers tightening around the sleeve of his hoodie. “But go eat. I’ll probably just lie here and stare at the ceiling some more.”
Oscar laughed quietly. “Sounds like a great plan.”
They look at each other for another second too long.
“I’ll call you before I go to bed,” Oscar said.
Lando’s chest warmed at that. “Okay.”
“I love you,” Oscar smiled.
“I love you too,” Lando replied immediately.
Oscar smiled, lingering just a second more before ending the call. The screen went dark. Lando stared at his phone for a while, thumb hovering where Oscar’s face had been. Eventually, he set it down beside him and lay back again, eyes drifting to the photo on his nightstand.
The first few days were harder than either of them expected.
Not in any dramatic, relationship-ending way. But in small, frustrating ones. Missed calls and texts sent half-asleep or when one of them was tired while the other was wide awake and ready to talk.
Lando learned quickly that eight in the morning for him meant evening for Oscar. That if he stayed up past midnight, he could catch Oscar just before lunch. That if Oscar called before bed, Lando had just enough time to get to class.
Sometimes they’d call at the wrong time. Oscar would be halfway through cooking, phone balanced against a jar, while Lando sat on his bedroom floor with his back against the bed, whispering so he wouldn’t wake George and Alex.
“Wait, what day is it for you?” Lando asked once, squinting at his phone.
Oscar blinked. “Tuesday.”
Lando groaned. “It’s still Monday here. I hate time zones.”
Oscar’s eyes softened. “We’ll be on the same day again in a few hours.”
They adjusted slowly and carefully. They started planning instead of guessing, writing things down, and setting alarms. They talked all the time. Short calls between classes, long ones late at night. They fell asleep on call more often than they meant to.
One day Oscar woke up and realised Lando was still there. His eyes widened. “Did you stay?”
Lando smiled. “Of course.”
Oscar went quiet for a second. “I like that,” he said eventually, voice still thick with sleep.
September arrived whether they were ready or not.
Lando’s life filled up quickly. Lectures, reading, equations, unfamiliar buildings. George and Alex fell into an easy routine with him. Home-cooked meals when they could manage it, late-night takeout when they couldn’t. The apartment started to feel more like it was theirs every day.
Oscar would text him about everything.
“You’re smiling at your phone again,” George said.
Lando didn’t even bother denying it. “He’s telling me about his class.”
George raised an eyebrow. “Is it riveting?”
“It’s the same stuff we’re learning, but he is.” Lando said easily.
Oscar learned Lando’s schedule by heart. He knew which days were long, which lectures Lando hated, and when he’d need extra encouragement. He’d send texts timed perfectly between classes.
One night, Lando came home later than usual. The apartment was dark except for the light spilling out underneath George and Alex’s bedroom door. Lando dropped his bag quietly by the door and toed off his shoes, exhaustion sitting heavy in his bones.
His phone buzzed as soon as he sat down on his bed.
Oscar.
Lando answered without thinking, barely giving himself time to hold up the phone. “Hey.”
Oscar smiled immediately, eyes soft. “Hi, baby.”
“You look cozy,” Lando said.
“Just woke up,” Oscar blinked slowly. “You sound tired.”
Lando huffed. “Long day.”
“Want to talk about it?” Oscar asked gently.
Lando hesitated, then shook his head. “Not really. I just want you.”
Oscar nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I’m here.”
Oscar shifted a little, adjusting his phone as he sat up. The light in his room was soft, the morning sun slipping in through the curtains that didn’t quite block it out. “I was gonna study early,” he said after a moment. “But I’ll do that later.”
Lando smiled faintly. “Stay,” he murmured. “Just for a bit, please.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Oscar said.
Lando let his head sink into his pillow. His eyes felt heavy, everything had demanded a little too much of him. “I miss you,” he said quietly.
Oscar didn’t tease him for it, he didn’t deflect it or soften it with humour. Instead he nodded, slow and sure. “I know. I miss you too.” He watched the way Lando blinked slowly. “I hate that I can’t do anything.” He said. “Like when you’re tired like this. I’d usually just pull you closer and tell you to sleep.”
“You are doing something,” Lando said before yawning. “Just differently.”
Oscar’s expression softened at that. “Yeah?”
Lando nodded, eyes already closing. “Hearing you talk helps.”
The sad look that overtook Oscar’s face came too quickly to hide. “I’d give anything to be there,” he said quietly.
“I know, Osc, I know,” Lando replied. He shifted onto his side, propping his phone up against the other pillow. “But this is okay too. For now.”
Oscar nodded. “For now.”
Lando studied him sleepily. The familiar curve of his mouth, the way his hair was falling onto his forehead. It felt strange that Oscar was starting his day while Lando was ending his.
Oscar watched as Lando’s eyes drifted shut, then opened again like he was fighting it. “You can sleep, Lan.”
“Osc?” Lando murmured.
“Yes, baby?”
“I love you,” Lando said quietly. “So much. And I really miss you.”
Oscar’s throat tightened. He leaned closer to his phone, like all the miles between them would disappear. “I love you too,” he said softly. “I miss you even more.”
Lando’s eyes closed again, this time longer. His face relaxed in a way it hadn’t all day, the tension finally easing. Oscar stayed still for a while, just looking at him.
“Sleep well, Lan,” he whispered before muting his side of the call so he wouldn’t accidentally wake Lando up.