Work Text:
AFTER ALL HE IS HUMAN
*Lando*
Not a word?
Not a message?
Do I deserve nothing at all?
Are you just going to disappear from my life? Not a single sign of life?
There was a promise between us. It was a specific promise. Whatever happened between us today, we would be back together.
All those signs these past few weeks: the way he looked at me, the way he smiled at me, his sweetness, the way he desired me from afar. That look but no touch. I was convinced I saw a thousand things there, and maybe there were, but they've all been swept away. His attitude these past few days has confused me, but maybe it's my fault, actually.
I was deluded; I was wrong to believe it. I'm the usual naive idiot who sees what he wants because he's blinded by emotions.
It was obvious that not everything could be the same again; one of us would be too bad to start over. We could both have lost and it would have been easy, but in the end I won and I certainly won't apologize for that.
I just should have been less of an asshole when we had that conversation. I should have been more stubborn, or maybe... I don't know, what could I have done differently? Maybe now I should seek him out and force him to talk about it, but how can I force him to face the cause of his pain?
I'm the reason he's hurting so much.
Don't he deserve to feel bad like a normal human being?
I know what he's going through, he even explained it to me as best he could when he asked for this damn break; it wasn't a given that he could explain himself so well, given how little he's used to talking.
I know what he has.
He thought that by isolating himself, he could go back to that robotic Oscar who drives well without feeling anything, but it doesn't work that way. Once you unlock your emotions, you can't block them back at will. You're not a computer, Oscar. You're not a robot. That's the point.
You should have understood, but I imagine that since you're not used to experiencing certain things, to feeling certain things, you deluded yourself into thinking it was like before, when you could control everything.
I was wrong not to assert myself, not to make you understand that it's not what you think, that what you experience affects you and often sinks you and certainly changes you. I know it well, I'm the king of emotions, I've lived with feelings since I was born, I've been crushed by them.
I should have warned him, but maybe it wouldn't have helped.
But there was a promise.
Rationally I understand everything, what he's going through, what he's feeling, what he needs, and I know I have to give him the time he needs, but deep down in my chaotic heart bombarded by a thousand powerful emotions, I can't help but think that there was a promise between us.
We weren't just two guys fucking; we were together, we told each other we loved. It wasn't a real break, but evidently I'm the usual idiot.
But I won't let this ruin my magical moment.
I'm over the moon, I won a World Cup, I deserve to be happy.
If Oscar doesn't even deign to say a word or send me a message, too bad for him. I consider the promise broken. For me, right now, we're nothing anymore, we're no longer together, there's nothing holding me back or stopping me from doing what I want. Because I deserved a word, a 'please forgive me, wait a little longer'. No, nothing. Nothing at all.
And then I can only act accordingly.
*Charles*
I specifically invited myself to Lando's party, because I'm staying here for Tuesday's testing and, not being able to go to Max because he's having his special private evening with the team and family, I was here like an idiot. It’s all fine, but knowing my boyfriend is with his woman instead of me certainly doesn't make me happy. And it doesn't matter that I have a woman too and she's here with me tonight.
I couldn't have done anything with Max anyway, but I would have found a way.
However I have to wait for his long, wonderful evening to be over and for everyone to go the hell out. So I decided to invite myself to Lando's party, and he happily welcomed me.
When Max tells me they're leaving, I'll strategically disappear pretending I'm tired and ready to go to bed.
I'll sneak away or have Max sneak away to me.
Anyway, until then, I'm here with Lando celebrating his well-deserved World Championship.
We're good friends, not as long as I've been with George and Alex. I actually became good friends with him when he arrived in F1, but he immediately joined our group and I consider him a friend.
The evening is also held at the private club of the hotel where we're staying, so it's easy to join in and then disappear. Out of superstition, no celebration is prepared in advance when you're not sure of winning, so it was all a bit improvised. Many of his team members showed up, though, including his friends who had come for the last race, his family who at a certain point wisely decided to give their son the privacy he deserves. Privacy from them, of course, since there are quite a few people currently surrounding Lando who is shouting, jumping, singing, drinking and acting crazy.
We were together for a while, had a drink together, then he quickly disappeared. I bump into him every now and then and every time I see him, he's increasingly drunk. I assume he won't make it to bed alive tomorrow morning.
But it's not the fact that he drinks a lot, as he should, that strikes me.
Maybe it's Oscar's absence, but we couldn't have expected otherwise, all things considered.
Yet something is out of place, as I watch him more out of boredom than anything else. Here next to Alex, the evening doesn't pass me by, so I end up focusing on Lando, finding him, if not interesting, at least noteworthy.
There's something about him, I know him well by now; he's happy, but it's more of a forced happiness. Or rather, deliberately excessive. A induced happiness. I don't mean from drinking, because drinking is normal, but it's as if he's trying to appear happier than he actually is. He certainly is, a lot, I have no doubt about that.
But it does seem to me that something is off.
I'm still thinking about it when, having laboriously reached the bathroom, I hear unmistakable noises coming from one of the stalls inside. I turn toward one of the three doors of this men's bathroom, which is quite spacious and fortunately empty at the moment.
I smile in amusement as disco music from outside penetrates the thin walls. A rhythmic, muffled, almost dreamlike music fills the background, but it doesn't drown out their moans.
Two guys are fucking hard and when I flush my wall-mounted urinal, they realize they're not alone and stop cursing.
I don't know if I'm the one stopping them; I have no idea. I go to the sink to wash my hands, giggling with amusement.
How many times have I done things like this with Max? I would have done it tonight too if the idiot had come, but he had to spend the evening with his team and his family.
"It would be weird to attend the party of the rival who took the victory from me, wouldn't it?”, he said polemically. He's clearly right.
Sighing discontentedly, I absentmindedly watch the bathroom door open revealing a very cute, yet very embarrassed, blond boy with long hair. He straightens his clothes and leaves avoiding my gaze.
Wasn't that the one who was going around Lando before?
I don't have time to finish my remark before the door opens again. Too soon, my friend. You should have waited for me to leave... but I don't finish my sentence because Lando's shocked and embarrassed face appears almost by magic.
- Oh shit... - we mutter in tandem, taken by surprise.
Surely I could have expected anything but him being the one... the one cheating on Oscar?
As soon as I focus on him, I immediately turn while him remains frozen in front of the door, looking genuinely guilty. Guilty because he only needs to look at me to know he's made a mistake and is in trouble.
- Charles, it was you... - but his voice is drawn out and as soon as he tries to move away from the doorframe, he staggers, then goes pale, turns quickly and rushes back inside to vomit.
I hear him and decide not to look. I don't want to end up in his same vomit: we're friends, but there's a limit.
But I'll stay here waiting. I'd like to explain to him how to get out of the toilet when you don't want to get caught having sex with someone, but I don't think he'd understand anything now.
I give him the time he needs and he seems to throw up his soul. He vomits so much. This is actually good for him; it will help him feel better and, I presume, start over.
When I hear him stop vomiting, I look into the stall and see him crouched in front of the toilet. The sound of the flushing water interrupts, leaving that awkward silence.
Lando remains down there facing a now-empty toilet; I stand behind him, one arm leaning against the doorframe, unsure of how to deal with this embarrassing moment.
And here, without even getting up and looking at me, he speaks to me slowly. Slowly with a hoarse, slurred voice and is tired from exertion and excessive drinking.
- He didn't even text me. He didn't show up. He simply disappeared. He hugged me on the track and congratulated me, showered me with champagne on the podium, took a picture with me and then disappeared without even a single apology, not even a tiny 'I need time.' Nothing at all.
I sigh in disappointment. Now I have to play the rational adult. Why do I put myself in these shitty situations?
- He did much more than anyone else would have done in his place. - I wonder if he understands a word I'm saying. He's really drunk, I think he's not getting up from there because he doesn't have the strength.
Lando rests his forehead on his crossed arms resting on the toilet, a scene you'd only see with a drunk. I wrinkle my nose in disgust as I stand there looking down at him, his curly hair, his hunched shoulders.
- He promised me that whatever happened today, we'd be back together like before. I was waiting for him. I only went on with this promise. I've endured things I could never have endured...
It doesn't end here because he starts crying. At this, I roll my eyes. Damn, all the stages of grief, does he pass? Is he sad now?
I lean over him and put a hand on his back to comfort him like the friend I am.
- Yes, but making a promise when you're well is different, it's not easy to keep it when you're unwell; after all he's human.
Lando turns toward me and leave the toilet bowl to hug my knees. At this I crouch down because I'm too embarrassed to have him wrapped around my legs, and so Lando clings to my neck and cries like a kid.
- I know, but he could have told me, written to me. Didn't I deserve it? We're together! I understood everything, I let him do everything he wanted, I gave him time and space, always everything he wanted! Now, didn't I deserve a 'sorry, give me some time'?
He's actually right, but I don't want to fuel his fire, which I don't know if it's anger or desperation, but either way it's burning. I sigh and simply console him until I feel him slowly collapse in my arms, becoming a dead weight.
- Oh, damn it! - I curse through gritted teeth, rolling my eyes again. He's asleep.
- Really? Are you that drunk? I bet you won't even remember cheating on Oscar, tomorrow. And what am I supposed to do? Should I remind you, or will I mind my own business?
In the end I called his friends and unloaded on them, following Max's excellent advice: to mind my own business and keep my mouth shut.
If Lando ever remembers something tomorrow, he'll have to deal with it himself. If he doesn't, maybe he and Oscar will have a chance to sort it all out.
It's true that Oscar could have at least written to him that he needed time, but it's also true that even if it doesn't seem like it, he's human like everyone else; his reaction is understandable.
Aside from that, when I finally get reunited with my Max, I wonder what the hell will become of those two.
I liked them together; it's a shame they're breaking up like that. I was convinced they'd make it.
- Do you think they're over? - I ask him after Max sneaks into my room.
- Absolutely. - but why the hell am I asking him?
At his shitty response I roll my eyes and shake my head, starting to undress as if my boyfriend hadn't just walked in. Seeing me so annoyed, he laughs amusedly. I know why he's laughing.
- Will you tell him what you witnessed, if he doesn't remember?
At this I purse my lips and look at him.
- Well, I don't know. If necessary, I'll tell him. They both have plenty of extenuating circumstances and it's none of my business, but Lando was really drunk. I don't think he would have cheated on him if he'd been in his right mind.
Max, gloriously shirtless, puts his arms around my waist and pulls me closer. His hands immediately reach for my ass, which he takes possession of making me smile and relax. He still has a little smile plastered on his face, which fades, becoming serious for a moment as he talks about a dear friend of his.
- Lando has grown a lot this year, but he's still the same guy. A total troublemaker. For one thing right, he has to do another wrong. It's part of who he is. Anyway, it’s possible that it’s over regardless of this night.
Max's cynicism makes me grimace in discontent and I shake my head, putting my arms around his shoulders and leaning into him calmly: I'm finally exactly where I wanted to be from the start.
- I think they'll find a way to fix everything. Oscar is different from us; he rationalizes everything. Even if he finds out about tonight, he's capable of understanding that there are solid extenuating circumstances. Leaving him like this without a word after a promise to get back together no matter what happens in the Championship, is no small feat.
Max bows his head as if to think about it, but he does it just for four seconds. Then he dismisses everything with a: - That’s their problem! - and ends up kissing me.
I think we'll have to wait to find out the outcome of that soap opera. Too bad, it’s quite interesting!”