Chapter Text
Lando had finally achieved his greatest ambition. It was the goal he had lived for since childhood and the fuel for his daily desire.
He was now a world champion.
He had achieved his childhood dream. He couldn't believe it. Shaking, he looked around after getting out of the car. Everything was so bright and overwhelming that he didn't know where to focus. His breathing was still uneven. He took shaky steps toward the McLaren team running toward him. There was too much contact and hugging. Too hot. Too suffocating. Too strange. Lando still couldn't return to reality. Just a few hours ago, he was sweating and struggling in his car. Now, everyone was shouting his name and congratulating him on his win. It felt like a dream. Lando let himself be carried away, disconnecting from the world. He didn't care who was talking to him, hugging him, or touching him; he was just being swept from place to place. When he saw the trophy, the success he had been chasing for years, his heart began to beat again as if coming back to life. He didn't care about what was happening around him. He was focused only on the trophy. Yes, he had won. Despite everything. The thing that would silence everyone and prove himself to them was right there.
After countless camera flashes, Lando finally walked toward the podium, unaware of the tears of joy streaming from his eyes. He took the champagne and sprayed it at everyone, not caring who it hit or missed. He did what he had to do, not caring about the consequences. Today is his day, this season is his season, and this cup is his. He sprayed the McLaren team and others with champagne, but one person was missing: Oscar.
He looked for Oscar to pour champagne on him. But he's nowhere to be found. Lando doesn't think too much about it. His eyes stop searching for Oscar, and he turns back to his team to continue the celebration.
—
Even after what happened on the field, Lando couldn't stop partying that night. It seemed endless. He was partying like crazy and had given up counting how many drinks he'd had after the fifteenth glass. He danced with everyone on the dance floor, moving from one person to another as if he'd lost himself. His mind was muddled and he was unable to think straight. People congratulated him countless times, lifting him onto their shoulders and hugging him. Lando could barely make out people's faces. Most of the time, he didn't even notice who he was talking to. He just talked, saying whatever came to mind. He was completely scattered and lost, having long since crossed the line. He knows there's no turning back. After the congratulations, Lando dances with his girlfriend on the dance floor, but he suddenly recoils in pain.
His stomach is literally rebelling. He wants to vomit everything inside him. Without saying a word, Lando leaves the dance floor suddenly, his girlfriend watching him walk away with a bewildered look.
Damn it! Lando is barely holding back from vomiting. He walks as fast as he can toward the bathroom—though "walking" is hardly the right word. He is literally crawling, unable to move without support. He keeps falling and getting up, stumbling. His eyes are barely open. He's walking down a straight corridor, but everything seems to be spinning around him.
He enters the first bathroom stall he finds, unable to understand how he got there, and collapses onto the floor. He is completely defenseless. He vomits everything. The champagne he drank on stage. The mixed cocktail he had at the bar, the Dutch liquor Max made him drink, the local wine, and everything else he can't remember. His throat is so irritated that he can feel it in every cell. He begins to whimper and cry from the pain. His eyelids close. Even after he stops vomiting, he can't suppress the occasional urge to retch.
God, he didn't have to go this far. How did he lose control like this? Normally, he would restrain himself.
He would normally restrain himself.
No, Lando couldn't restrain himself.
Oscar always showed him his limits.
"Oscar."
"Osc."
Lando had started murmuring Oscar's name without realizing it. His head was thrown back and he was staring blankly around the cabin. It was time to give up. It was cold around him. He wanted to warm up. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to get away from there. This was too much. Everything had happened so suddenly. Why hadn't anyone told him to stop? Why hadn't Oscar told him?
"Why, Osc—"
Lando managed to say these last words before falling asleep.
—
"Let's get you out of here Lan."
—
When Lando woke up, he couldn't open his eyes. Everything throbbed. His head felt like it was splitting open. His back was seized up. His throat burned. His hair was a mess. The skin under his eyes hurt. His jaw was clenched. His shoulder was stiff. His legs ached as if he had run a marathon. "God!" Lando groaned softly as he tried to move in the silent room. He didn't even know where he was. Where was his phone? How had he gotten here? What happened last? Who brought him here? How did he get here? Lando felt like his head was splitting open. It was all too much. He needed to take some painkillers and go back to sleep.
He found a box of painkillers in the kitchen, took some, and lay back down on the bed. He seemed to be in a hotel room because the place was completely unfamiliar. After closing his eyes and resting, Lando began to remember. The last thing he remembered was vomiting in the bathroom and passing out there. Most likely, he had woken up and come to this hotel, where he had fallen asleep. Damn it! He had really gone too far.
Still, he felt good because he had become the champion. He had also escaped the stares that had followed him before.
He had avoided the stares that had constantly followed him — stares that perhaps judged, envied, or even hated him. He didn't know the underlying emotion or thought behind them.
Oscar's stares, that is.
He had hardly seen Oscar after the race. He didn't feel uncomfortable about it because he didn't think he could look Oscar in the eye. After everything that had happened, he didn't know how to talk to him. Lando was clearly favored by the team and treated like royalty. They cared about Lando more than Oscar; they designed the car to suit Lando. Whenever they were face-to-face, they constantly asked Oscar to let Lando pass. Worst of all, Oscar never reacted. No matter what, he remained silent, wearing his mask and smiling at Lando in a fake way. It was as if he didn't want to strangle Lando, beat him to death, or suffocate him until he couldn't breathe. Lando never knew what was going on inside Oscar's mind. No matter what, Oscar would smile the next day as if nothing had happened and continue telling his terrible jokes. Lando was terrified that Oscar would explode out of nowhere one day. Oscar's state had become normal to him, but he hated himself for it.
"Enough!"
Lando suddenly shouted. Was he really going to lie in his hotel bed the day after becoming champion and dwell on gloomy thoughts? Absolutely not. Oscar could go to hell. That idiot had always been that way, and he always would be. Lando stood up abruptly and started walking toward the bathroom. He needed to take a shower and pull himself together.
—
Two months had passed since he became champion. In that time, he hadn't spoken to Oscar once. Lando hadn't sent a message, and Oscar hadn't called him either. There wasn't even a simple congratulatory message. If there was one thing Lando remembered from that crazy night, it was that Oscar hadn't congratulated him.
Usually, even if they weren't close, they would talk occasionally. At the very least, Oscar would send a message and invite him over to play FIFA or padel. But during this time, no message had come. This worried Lando. He tried commenting on a few of Oscar's Instagram posts, but Oscar didn't like his comments or reply. This made Lando worry even more.
However, Lando knew his thoughts were unfounded and that he shouldn't worry. He shouldn't dwell on it.
"There's no need for this. It's just the way we always are." Maybe Oscar is just too busy. Maybe he's just really sick of me and realized he needs to put a stop to it." Lando found himself muttering these words on the balcony when a notification from McLaren popped up on his phone. Before opening the message, he gazed out at the view and began to think. The season was about to start, and he knew he would be returning to the team in a few days for test drives and events. Maybe it was an update about those things. Lando opened his phone and looked at the message.
"I hope you're free on February 13, Lando. Our sponsors are waiting for you and Oscar to film a special Valentine's Day video."
— Lando stared at his phone in utter shock. Oscar and him? February 14th? Valentine's Day? Whose idea was this?