Archive of Our Own

The first time Oscar saw him, he was barely six years old. As his mother told the story, one moment he was playing in the sand next to her, the next one he was nowhere to be seen.

No one asked what he remembered, but that was fine by him.

It would be hard to explain how the most enticing melody began to play from the sea, one so beautiful that it made Oscar forget anything else. It was a voice, a very sweet voice that warmed Oscar from the inside.
How was he supposed not to go towards it? It sounded so alone. Oscar didn't want them to feel lonely, and they clearly wanted Oscar to go towards them.

He isn't sure how his mom didn't see him, he doesn't remember trying to hide, he just began walking towards the sea. He wasn't supposed to go beyond the depth where water reached his ankles, his mother had warned him about the danger of the waves many times before. But he saw deeper in the water the owner of the voice, and all thoughts of warnings and safety left his head.

He looked like a boy, maybe a few years older than him, with curly dark hair and what looked like scales around his face and down his neck, the only parts of the boy he could see, in a bright yellow color. What really caught Oscar's attention though, were the boy's bright eyes, a very light blue or maybe green. They were the prettiest eyes Oscar had ever seen.

He was barely moving his mouth, but there was no doubt in Oscar's head that he was the one singing, and that he was asking Oscar to reach for him, to come into his arms. And Oscar wanted to go. Why wouldn't he?

When he was almost close enough, the boy raised his hand towards Oscar's hair, brushing a lock from his face. He then ran his hand down Oscar's cheek. Oscar raised his own hand to hold onto the boy's wrist, for no other reason than he really craved the contact, it gave him a funny feeling in his chest that he wanted to keep going forever, but something crossed the boy's face, and in an instant he was gone.

Almost at the same time, a pair of arms circled Oscar's middle, and pulled him up. He began coughing all the water he had been swallowing without notice, and as his mother carried him back to the sand, the voice grew weaker. Enough so that he could hear his mother's words.

"That was not me, baby, I am right here, I'm so sorry, Oscar, I promise I won't let anything happen to you," she promised over and over again.

Her words were confusing, but he couldn't ask more, just kept coughing up more and more water, just to eventually end up throwing it up. Breathing hurt at the beginning, but it eventually got easier. His mom's arms never left his own. When Oscar began crying, it had nothing to do with whatever his mom was so upset about, and everything to do with the fact that the song was gone.

The song was gone, and now Oscar was shaking, and his head hurt, and he felt like he was missing something important, something he couldn't describe or communicate, even if someone had asked.

But no one asked, and Oscar was not one to answer questions no one asked, and so it remained a secret.

The drive home was silent, and Oscar could tell his mom was afraid but he wouldn't understand why, or what had happened at all, until days later, when, after just being able to overhear bits of conversation from his parents here and there, they sat him down to explain what that creature was.

Oscar was six years old when he first heard the word siren.

After that, the visits to the beach stopped for months, almost years. When they came back, it was with the condition that Oscar had to be by his mother's side at all times, and he was to stay away from the sea. At least his sisters were forced to follow the same rules, but it didn't take a genius to notice how his mother's eyes were much more often on him, and how stressed she looked.

But as time kept going, she seemed to accept that nothing would happen and that Oscar was safe. They never talked about that day, except to remind Oscar to be careful, and so he never mentioned how the boy, the siren, was an ever-present image every time he closed his eyes. His eyes, looking at Oscar with an emotion he couldn't decipher, were etched in his mind. He was sure he sometimes dreamed of his song, but he could never remember it when he woke up, he only assumed it because on those nights, he would wake up feeling a pressure on his chest that he had realized had nothing to do with breathing in too much water.

When he was ten years old, his father took him to the dock. They weren't going to get in any boat that day, they were just going with one of his father's friends because Oscar had been curious, and his parents had finally accepted they couldn't keep him away from the sea forever.

He had no intention of wandering off, he didn't want to worry anyone, so he sat on the edge of the dock, not close enough to fall, but close enough to be able to see the animals swimming just beneath it. At first, his father's voice behind him was strong, but when his friend asked him for help carrying a few boxes, the pair of steps grew distant.

Oscar stayed in his place, knowing his father would call him if he needed extra help.

The sound of the waves was relaxing, it felt kind. He never developed the same fear of the ocean his mother had after his near-drowning incident. He had heard her say once that he probably didn't remember, but since she hadn't been talking to him, he never corrected her.

This time, when it came, the melody was louder, but still the same sweet voice that asked him to join it, and Oscar wanted nothing more than to comply.

He looked down the edge of the dock, and just there, head coming from out of the water, was the creature that had haunted his dreams for years. Just as beautiful as Oscar remembered.

"What's your name?" asked Oscar, because the question had been a constant in his head all this time.

The siren raised his hand, putting it softly over Oscar's cheek. His skin was cold, and Oscar could now see the yellow scales that were sparsely present on the back of the boy's hand. His lips didn't stop their familiar motion, but the answer manifested in Oscar's brain anyway.

Lando.

Oscar smiled, happy to finally have a name to assign to the siren. Lando began retreating, slow but certain. Oscar, not wanting to break their contact, leaned forward, chasing the hand that seemed to want to leave its place in Oscar's face. Why was Lando taking away what Oscar had wanted for years?

He didn't realize how much he had leaned already until he felt his leg slip.

A strong splash of water drenched him, and for a second he was sure he had fallen into the water, but breathing was still easy, and the hands on his shoulders were familiar in a different way than Lando's hand was.

"Oscar, can you hear me? I need words, son," his father repeated.

"Yes, I can hear you," he reassured him. He hadn't turned to see his father, his eyes stuck in the sea. He couldn't see Lando anymore, no matter how hard he tried, and the loss weighed on him already.

His father made him stand up, began guiding him back to the car.

"This shouldn't be happening, most people go their whole life without knowing someone who got attacked by a siren, a now you've been attacked twice," the older man grumbled, clearly angry but not wanting to raise his voice. Oscar assumed his father was trying not to startle him, but the truth was that he could have begun screaming and there was a good chance Oscar wouldn't have noticed.

Because as he was walking away from the dock, Oscar was hit by the realization that this time, he could still hear Lando's song. It was fainter, but it was still there, and it was still calling him towards the ocean.

His mother wouldn't stop crying when his father told her what happened. No matter that Oscar was right there, hugging her, promising he was okay.

They still didn't ask him what had happened, just stuck to his father's version. He had turned his back on Oscar for only a few minutes, and when he looked back, Oscar was about to fall into the water, pulled by a hand coming from the sea.

It took hours to calm his mom down, and then his sisters, who didn't understand why everyone was so upset but ended up crying too.

"This isn't normal. We need to do something, what if he was cursed?" His mom asked.

"There is no such a thing as a curse that attracts sirens," dismissed his dad.

But his mom was more stubborn, and even his dad couldn't deny that a second siren attack on a child was unheard of, so two weeks later Oscar found himself walking into a small house in the outskirts of Melbourne with his mom. It smelled like incense, a bit too strong if you asked Oscar, and it was decorated in a way he had never seen before. Rocks, dried plants and odd drawings on the walls.

The woman who lived there looked a bit younger than his mom, she had a kind smile and offered Oscar a cup of hot chocolate after she sat them down.

"You told me on the phone you feared your son was cursed, why do you think that?" Asked the woman, the witch, his mom had said, after giving him his drink, and a cup of coffee for his mom.

"He's ten, and he got attacked by sirens twice."

"Twice?" The surprise in the woman's voice was obvious. She looked back at Oscar, maybe waiting for him to suddenly look different, but he just stayed in his chair, quietly drinking the hot chocolate.

"Yes, the first time was four years ago, and just as we thought he was safe, he got attacked again in the docks a few weeks ago," confirmed his mom.

That led to the story of both incidents being told, and since Oscar wasn't asked, he didn't correct any of the wrong details the stories had. Instead, he found himself looking through the window. The view was of the nice garden the witch had, but Oscar wasn't looking at that either, he just looked into the distance.

He was too far to see the ocean, but he knew it was that way. These days, it was easy for him to tell, as Lando's song played just a bit louder when Oscar looked that way. So he would always know where he was supposed to go.

"I've never heard of a curse that makes a person more susceptible to sirens," confessed the witch after hearing the tale. "But I also never heard of a kid being attacked by sirens twice. I can do a tarot reading to see if something seems amiss, but I can't promise you I'll find it."

Oscar's mom looked disappointed, but accepted the offer. She stepped out of the room, so the signs were clearer for the reading or something like that explained the witch, leaving Oscar alone sitting in front of the woman.

"I won't find anything that can help your mom, better witches than me have tried and failed to find something that can work against a siren's song," announced the witch, looking at Oscar with a sad expression. "But I can maybe help you, if you tell me what really happened."

Oscar was taken aback by that.

"What really happened?" He asked, unsure.

"I noticed your mother just told me what she saw, and what your father saw, never what you saw. You are one of the very few people who have seen two sirens and lived to tell the tale, you may know something that could help us."

Oscar nodded; he wanted to help. He wanted his mom to stop being so afraid. And someone was finally asking him.

"I didn't see two sirens, though," corrected Oscar. "It was the same one."

"How can you tell? They may have just taken the same form." Despite the skepticism in her voice, Oscar could see she wasn't dismissing what he said.

"The siren didn't take the form of anyone else. My mom thinks I saw her that first time, she kept repeating that it was not the real her, but I never thought it was my mom," he explained.

The witch looked even more intrigued.

"Not a bad assumption on her part, sirens are supposed to turn into the most beautiful person for their victim, and for kids, it's usually their mom or a close family member." She took a moment, thinking carefully her next words. "What did she look like then?"

"A boy a bit older than me, both times. Like he grew up the same as me." Oscar didn't need to close his eyes to remember, but he did anyway, always happy to remind himself of that breathtaking beauty. "He has yellow scales in his body, and very bright eyes. His teeth look very sharp, but he has a nice smile anyway."

He hadn't noticed the teeth the first time, and he also hadn't noticed during the second encounter, but in the following days he had replayed that moment over and over again, and somewhere along the line, it became obvious that those teeth were sharper than normal. Maybe it should have scared Oscar, but even with that, Lando's smile felt kind.

He opened his eyes, and the cautious smile that had formed on his face fell after watching the horror in the witch's face.

"The stories of sirens showing their true face to their victims are almost non-existent, but the few rumours I've heard never ended well." She turned to the window Oscar had been looking at before, trying to piece something together. "Oscar, do you still hear the siren's song?"

"Yes, it never went away after the second time."

From her expression, Oscar could tell he had confirmed her worst fears.

She took her Tarot deck she had left aside, but she began choosing the cards she faced upward on the table.

"I will tell your mother I found no curse, and that the cards show me a life of achievements. I cannot tell her anything she would like, and anyway the precautions to take are the same. You must not, under any circumstances, be left alone near the ocean." Once she was happy with the cards she laid, she looked at Oscar in the eye, trying to make him understand the gravity of the situation. "The siren wants you, Oscar. It will not stop, you won't be able to outrun it. The song will get louder, until you feel there is no other option but to follow it.

"You have to resist, Oscar. The siren wants to kill you, you can't forget it. The creature is not nice, is not kind, is not lonely, not any of the things it will try to convince you of. It wants you to walk to your death with a smile," she continued, getting even more worked up. "It will come back for you at any opportunity it has, so you can't give it any. Understood?"

"Understood," confirmed Oscar, even when he couldn't reconcile those hard words with Lando. But it made sense, didn't it? He had been drowning when his mom pulled him from the ocean, and he almost fell from the dock.

Could it be that Lando really wanted to harm him?

The witch invited Oscar's mom back in, and gave her the results she promised him. It seemed to take a weight off her mother's shoulders. The woman recommended Oscar shouldn't be left near a beach anyway, because even if there was no curse, it was better to be overly careful.

They walked out of the witch's house, Oscar's mom more relaxed than he had seen her in weeks, and he… confused. He didn't want to worry his mom, but how was he supposed to ignore the song forever?

Oscar kept quiet about it. He would deal with it, no one else had to carry the weight.

When he was thirteen, one of his friends from karting decided to celebrate his birthday on the beach. It had been a hard bargain with his mom, but in the end she let him go, on the condition he wouldn't get separated from everyone else.

It may have helped that the boy had a sister of Hattie's age, and so she was also invited, and she was left with very clear instructions to go get an adult if Oscar started acting weird.

It hurt a little having to be basically babysitted by his younger sister, but he knew it was the best he would get, and so he accepted.

At first, it all worked as expected. The song was stronger when he was on the shore, but so many people around him were enough of a distraction for him not to pay attention to it, not to feel it sink its claws into his chest. He could ignore it.

Until he couldn't.

He suddenly found himself swimming behind a formation of rocks, near enough that he could still hear the voices of his friends, but hidden enough so that when Lando appeared in front of him, he knew no one would see them.

Only now, watching Lando and looking at the face of a teenager instead of that of a child, Oscar realized the song had been slowly changing throughout the years. Not the melody, not the words that escaped his grasp as soon as he tried to pin them down, but the voice. It was still sweet, still warm, but it was deeper than when he had first heard it. It had also begun to carry something beyond the warmth and the loneliness, a longing that resonated in the deepest parts of Oscar's mind.

"Lando…" he sighed, because the sleepless nights fearing the next encounter, the years reminding himself he shouldn't wish for those eyes to look back at him, the constant reminder that his family had been trying to protect him from this, it all evaporated.

God, Lando had gotten even more beautiful.

The siren's hand being placed over his cheeks was, by now, expected, but it still brought a fire to his chest he could not explain away with fear.

The soft lips over his own were a bit more unexpected, but Oscar leaned in either way. It was an innocent kiss, just the press of two pairs of lips against each other, but for Oscar it dug up a knowledge he had tried to bury for years.

Because he now knew why the witch had asked what she had looked like, when Oscar said the siren hadn't looked like someone he knew. It had been an innocent assumption, and it became no longer important when she realized Oscar had seen the true face of a siren, but there was a reason for that expectation.

Lando pulled back just moments before a strong pair of hands pulled Oscar up by the arm.

He began coughing again. He hadn't noticed Lando had pulled him under the water, but it musn't have been for long, as Oscar didn't feel like had been truly drowning.

"Hey, are you okay, kid?" Asked the man who had dragged him out of the water. Oscar didn't know him, he wasn't one of the adults at the party. Oscar had just gotten lucky.

"Yes, thank you for the help, my leg had fallen asleep and I was having trouble swimming back."

The man accepted the explanation and helped him back to the sand, where Oscar took off running back to the party. His sister was the first to notice him, and ran to him.

"You weren't supposed to go off alone," she whisper-shouted at him.

"I don't remember doing it, you were supposed to keep an eye on me," he talked back, but without the bite his sister's accusation had. He didn't blame her, he mostly just hoped that if she felt bad, she wouldn't tell his parents.

"Are you okay?" She asked, this time in a kinder voice. Oscar wasn't sure what okay meant anymore. He had felt more than okay while he was drowning, and now with clean air to breathe, he felt empty.

"Yes, a man helped me, but I think I'm staying in the sand for the rest of the afternoon."

Hattie nodded at that, agreeing it was a better idea.

Oscar walked to where the adults and kids too small to play in the ocean were sitting, and sank into the arena without bothering to put a towel under him first. He couldn't think of details, his mind was too full.

He raised his fingers to his lips, imagining the touch of Lando instead. That had been his first kiss.

And, now that he was out of the water, he could say it for sure.

The song had gotten louder.

Hattie never told their mom about the birthday incident, and so when a year later Oscar moved across the world to follow his dream of becoming a Formula One driver, she just showed the normal amount of worry any other mom would have. Of course, that could also be because she hoped that maybe far away from Australia, he would never be near a siren again.

She didn't know of the warning the witch had given Oscar all those years ago. You can't outrun it. Oscar knew better than to hope it would get better, than hope maybe with some distance he would be able to enjoy music again, without feeling it crash with the constant melody of Lando's voice. He now had to focus more on any conversation he had, lest the song distract him from what the other person was saying.

He no longer could look at the ocean without the ache in his chest getting sharp enough it would make any other person whimper. But Oscar wasn't any other person, and he never wished to worry his family, so he learned not to physically react to any of it. He would go on walks near the beach, and he would follow the conversation, and he would breathe normally, and his eyes would not wander to look for the reason for his malaise.

And now, alone on the other side of the world, he avoided the beach in general, and focused on climbing through the ranks of karting, as driving was the only moment when he could completely focus on something else, the siren's song still there in the background but manageable. Like it had been before the kiss.

He doesn't see Lando again until he is nineteen. At least, not in person, but he saw him all the time in dreams.

In his dreams, he was standing in the middle of the ocean, or sitting on some rocks, but never near any kind of shore or beach; just water, as far as he could see. He always started alone, but it never felt ominous. The song was clear in its message, Lando was near, and Oscar was exactly where he should be.

It took him a few years to be sure, but Lando kept growing up with him, and even if he couldn't explain it, he had researched day and night about sirens having some dream walking abilities to no avail, he knew that the Lando in his dreams looked exactly like the real one.

Oscar always knew it was a dream, but the more time he spent there, the less sure he was about the fact that it was just a dream.

In there, sometimes Lando would climb up to the rock with him, and Oscar could finally see the scales that ran all the way down the siren's chest, up to his waist, where they started covering all skin, marking the beginning of the tail.
Sometimes, Lando would kiss him again, sometimes he would just caress his skin with his scaly hands, and either way Oscar would be content, just being able to watch the siren so close.

In some other dreams, when there was only water, Lando would take his hand and pull him under, showing him all types of beauties under the sea. Oscar didn't need to breathe in the dreams, but Lando would take them back to the surface every so often. Oscar never complained, he was happy following Lando forever.

They never had conversations, but they didn't need to. Oscar knew Lando better than he knew anyone else, after all he had been hearing his song most of his life, and he knew the siren knew his heart from all sides.

No, they never had conversations, not exactly, but sometimes they had to address the real world.

They would be kissing under the sun, and when they pulled apart, Lando had the saddest look in his eyes. It broke Oscar's heart, especially because he knew even without words that he was the reason.

"I cannot follow you, I would die. I can't do that to my family, they have worked so hard to keep me safe and chase my dreams." At Lando's judgmental stare, he corrected. "My metaphorical dreams, I don't know how to dream about anything but you."

That seemed to placate the siren a bit, but the sadness was still there. He turned his back on Oscar and jumped into the water. Oscar rolled his eyes, Lando's dramatics were as endearing as annoying. They were also just for show, they both knew Oscar would dive after him, and Lando had never rejected him.

"Why are you offended if you are the one trying to kill me?"

He hadn't expected an answer; sometimes he just asked questions because thinking out loud was easier in the dream. Otherwise, things got lost in the melody.

To his surprise, there was an answer. Suddenly, in his brain, like that first time when Lando gave him his name, was the siren's answer.

You let yourself listen to their words over my song. You trust them over me.

And what could Oscar say against that? Lando was still beautiful, still kind, his smile still warmed Oscar. He was delicate, playful, and adorable and yes, Oscar was sure that the siren would kill him if given the chance. He was sure that, in some twisted way, Lando was playing with his food.

He had learnt to live with his heart broken like that.

Oscar had grown a bit complacent. Years of being so far away from his heart, he had deluded himself into thinking he had mastered desire and longing, that he was in control of his mind and actions, if not of his emotions.

And so, when Mark, his new manager, and his wife invited him for a day trip to the beach to celebrate his most recent win, he accepted.

At first, everything went okay. It was mostly empty, which was not rare for the season and day, but they did see a few other groups having picnics, similar to them.

If Mark noticed anything weird about the way Oscar acted, he didn't say so, but Oscar began regretting his choice almost immediately.

The song was so loud, he couldn't think. He tried to nod and hum at appropriate times, but he couldn't for the life of him tell what the conversation around him was about. He had to focus on keeping his breathing regular, had to think about what each of his muscles was doing.

He had thought he could ignore it, he thought that he could resist the song. The fucking hubris on him.

Lando looked ethereal. The same as in his dreams, he had been right about that, but with a special shine the Oscar couldn't remember having seen before, even in their previous encounters.

His eyes, that had always been captivating, crossed the line to hypnotic. Oscar didn't wait for Lando to make the first move this time, instead he leaned down to connect his lips to Lando's.

Oscar hadn't ever tried any drugs, it wasn't something he was interested in, but when some of his classmates had described the sensation, the rush it gave them, Oscar had assumed it felt similar to the adrenaline rush that driving gave him. He could imagine how, if he didn't have racing, he would look for that feeling elsewhere.

But now he knew he must not have been even close. This was the rush they must have been talking about; the high, the endorphins, and the absolute peace he felt. His chess no longer aching, the drumming in his ears stopped. He finally understood addiction.

He never wanted it to end, but when something hit his head, the brief distraction was enough for him to get the smallest awareness of his surroundings. Someone was calling his name.

Don't listen, come with me.

That was right, he had to follow Lando. But the second of hesitation had been too long, someone was pulling him away from Lando. Unlike the previous times, he felt Lando's claws sinking in on his neck and shoulder, even if just for a moment, before letting go and swimming away.

The sudden change of balance almost made him fall forward, but a hand pulling his shirt's collar kept him standing.

The water was so cold. As soon as he became aware of it, he began shivering. The ocean was to the level of his chest, but his head and shoulders were also wet. His chest was aching again, the dizziness in his head changed to a pounding sensation. He had a feeling, one of impending danger or doom or something and he didn't know where it was coming from.

He walked in reverse, following the hand pulling him out of the water. The situation was so familiar he almost chuckled. When they finally were out of the water, he turned back to see Mark, he had probably been talking, but more than ever Oscar had to make a special effort to hear him.

"I'm oka—" he tried to reassure his manager, an instant reflex, but he got cut by his stomach. He turned aside and began throwing up all the water he had swallowed. Mark's hand on his back kept him steady enough on his feet, making sure he didn't stumble and fall.

He wanted to fall to his knees anyway, to beg Lando to take him with him, but he pushed the thought away.

"Fuck, come on, I have a first aid kit in the car, we need to at least clean the wounds," instructed Mark when Oscar was done, pushing him back to the car.

Oscar was still shivering, the air was too cold. It ocurred to him then that Mark had walked into the water to pull him out.

"I'm so sorry, Mark, you are going to catch a cold—" he began apologizing, mostly mumbling, when the man's words actually caught up to him. "Wait, what wounds?"

Mark was looking at him with a mix of horror and shock, but Oscar could understand that. His manager pointed to his shirt, and Oscar looked down to find that the white shirt he had been wearing had red stains. Blood.

He lifted his left hand to his right shoulder, where one of Lando's hands had been, as soon as he touched the skin, he realized it was hurting. The now obvious pain in the back of his neck was enough to imagine the back of the shirt was probably in a similar state. There was also a faint ache in the back of his head, he assumed from whatever Mark had thrown at him to get him to react.

Or, more likely, he threw it at Lando and failed. Oscar was glad it had been him instead.

When they finally reached the car, Mark's wife was waiting there for them, fear taking over her face as soon as she saw them. She climbed out of the car, leaving the passenger seat for Oscar, who sat with his legs to the outside.

"Should we take him to the hospital? It's not a lot of blood, but I think he is in shock…"

"What even happened? And why are both of you drenched? You are going to get pneumonia. I think we have a jacket in the truck."

"A siren happened. I turned my back to him one second, and the next he is walking straight into the sea, and he won't respond no matter how loud I scream."

"A siren? Are you listening to what you are saying?"

"His mom warned me once that it had happened before, I didn't actually believe it until now."

By now, Oscar had gathered himself enough to interrupt the conversation.

"I don't need a hospital, it didn't hurt me too badly. I'm not in shock, it's just… hard to think after it happens." The it felt wrong on his mouth, but it was necessary. "I didn't know my mom told you about the… other times. She usually doesn't like to talk about it."

Both pairs of eyes looked back at him, relaxing slightly at hearing him talk in a coherent way.

"She told me to never leave you alone near the ocean," Mark explained further. "At first I thought she was joking, then I didn't know what to think. It's the kind of tales mothers tell their kids to keep them from getting into trouble, isn't it? Never knew someone who had… seen one."

Oscar nodded sympathetically; he never had the experience of coming to terms with the existence of sirens, but he could imagine the shock. Sometimes, he wanted to ask his parents if they had believed in those tales before, but he never did. It was better not to bring it up.

"Well, this is the fourth time so… now you have."

Mark just shook his head, and began cleaning the wounds with the first aid kit. Whatever he used, it left a small burning in his skin, but Oscar didn't flinch. Now that he was thinking more easily, he could trace his anxious feelings to the source.

Lando's song. It wasn't louder, Oscar wasn't sure it could be any louder, but whereas before it had been sweet and inviting, it now felt angry and demanding. It seemed four times were too many.

Seemingly at a loss, Mark decided to trust Oscar's word that he didn't need a hospital, and threw a jacket on him before climbing behind the wheel, his wife climbing to the back, and started the car.

Oscar had been dreading the questions he was sure would follow, but none came. The way back was silent, no one wanting to breach the topic. He began to wonder if that was also part of the siren's magic, and their existence remained so hushed; any non-victim who witnessed an attack seemed terrified to speak about it.

It lulled Oscar into a false sense of security, enough that when the single question came, he had to bite his tongue not to let the first answer that came to mind out of his mouth.

"What did she look like?" Asked Mark, a voice much quieter than his usual, as if cautious of someone overhearing them.

What she looked like. He hadn't seen Lando. Oscar allowed himself the relief the answer to the question he hadn't thought of yet washed over him.

A dozen answers went through his mind.

Like allure made a person.
Like an oasis in the middle of the desert.
Like an answer to all his prayers.

"I don't remember," he lied. Mark gave him a sideways glance that told him the man hadn't believed him, but he didn't push, and so Oscar let the conversation die there.

Oscar would be lying if he said he hadn't gone to sleep nervous about what he would find in there. Lando seemed to be done pretending he was okay with Oscar so far from him.

He was in the middle of the sea, sitting on top of a formation of rocks, as he had done a thousand times before in his dreams, but there was a stark difference.

The storm was new. Usually, it was always a sunny day or a starry night, but now the wind was strong enough that it would probably push him if he tried to stand up, and the pouring rain meant his visibility beyond his immediate surroundings was almost non-existent.

"Lando?" He called out, trying to make himself heard over the thunder.

He couldn't see the siren, but he could feel him watching. Even knowing the truth of his situation for years, he had never truly felt like prey being hunted. Until now.

He tried to look around, looking for the familiar mop of curly hair, or the bright eyes that had always looked at him with softness and care. He found neither, Lando remained elusive.

"Lando, please, don't hide from me," he begged. He had never noticed how intimidating his dreamscape was, how isolated it made him feel.

You keep letting yourself be pulled away.

"Let?" He asked back to the sea. "I lose all control of myself every time you are near, the only thing I let myself do is be drowned!"

His voice had raised, not because of the rain this time. Oscar was frustrated by the fact that it was somehow his fault that Lando seemed to be the least successful siren ever.

They shouldn't be able to see you, much less reach you, yet they always do at the last moment. You are letting them keep us apart.

"They are trying to keep me alive! I want to keep being alive! Have you ever thought about that?!" He screamed. "I want to follow you and I want to give in, but I want to be alive more! So why wouldn't I let them pull me back?!"

You are mine.

"That's it?! So you decided on a whim thirteen years ago that I'm yours, so now I should happily walk to my death?!" Oscar was getting more and more worked up, finally letting the resentment of having spent the last ten years waiting for the day he would not be strong enough to stay away. For the day he would break the hearts of all his family.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed his ankle, and he was dragged into the water.

He was in a dream, he knew that. And usually, he never felt he was drowning in dreams, but Lando was trying to make a point, and so Oscar began trashing, trying and failing to swim up for air.

The siren had him grabbed by the arms, not letting him move. Even in his panic, Oscar noticed the hurt in Lando's eyes, and even feeling the water get into his lungs, he hated being the cause of it.

Lando crushed his lips against Oscar, giving him back his ability to not-breath. The kiss wasn't a kindness though, it was a warning.

You are mine. If you don't understand it now, then I will wait until you feel like drowning on land. You will beg me to come back for you, Oscar, I promise you.

The siren pulled back, and Oscar began drowning again. Alone.

Oscar woke up coughing. His heart was trying to beat outside of his chest, and it took a minute to convince himself that he was fine; in his room, with plenty of air to breathe. Away from the sea. The taste of salty water in his mouth was a bit disorientating, but he could ignore it.

That had been the longest conversation he'd had with Lando.

If Oscar had thought his life before had been difficult, life in the face of Lando's anger was even worse.

Days were long and draining, any moment of free time an opportunity for the headaches to get worse, as they always did when he was left alone with Lando's song. Nights no longer offered his heart a break, as he would always find himself in the middle of the storm of Lando's fury. He was never dragged again from the rocks, but he wished he was, if only because it would mean seeing Lando again, but the siren denied him even that.

He had been clear, he wouldn't be back until Oscar begged him to end his life.

For Oscar, it was not a question of if he would ever get there, but of when. His few friendships grew distant as he stopped accepting the invitations to hang out. He knew he was terrible company, and any facade he could put up for a few hours would eventually crumble down.

Even when he was back at home, around the family he had been working so hard to protect from his pain for years, he no longer could pretend everything was fine. But he blamed stress, said he was tired, he made up a cold. Mark never told his mother about the incident in England, nor did he, and so the topic was skillfully avoided as it always was. Oscar wondered if anyone suspected either way. He hoped they didn't.

He clung harder to racing, it was the only thing left that made sense, that allowed him to stop thinking about Lando. When he was driving, he could hear the storm getting worse, but the song didn't paralyze him with pain as it did some other times. Maybe so that he didn't crash, didn't risk dying any other way than the one Lando intended.

He ignored the smell of the ocean that would appear even when he was in the middle of the desert. He looked away from the face that would sometimes appear in any water's reflection. He got used to the permanent feeling of being watched, of being chased. The siren's absence haunted him in every corner of his life.

Inside his head, he was swimming against the current. Oscar was aware that every time he locked another symptom away in his mind, he was losing pieces of himself. Two years to the last time he had seen Lando, he felt like a shell of a person.

That was just on the inside, though. On the outside, he smiled as the world saw him become an F1 driver.

In the privacy of his apartment in Monaco, Oscar had come to terms with the fact that he was losing his mind. Thoughts were hard to hold onto, time was even more slippery. He had alarms to wake up, go to the gym, for each of his meals. When he had to travel, he needed around ten alarms at strategic intervals so he could make it on time to the plane.

All his focus, he used it on the race, on the sim, on the debrief. Anything else depended on him putting enough alarms that would find him in the misty labyrinth that had become of his head. His family got used to him going days without answering texts, his trainer was used to Oscar answering emails in between repetitions, as only under the careful watch of an outsider did Oscar manage.

He dreaded and yearned for sleep on equal measures. Asleep, he at least could just lie under the rain, he didn't have to force himself to be functional. On the other hand, feeling so close and yet not seeing Lando tugged at his heart. He wished to go back to before, wished Lando to be cute and playful with him again, instead of this unseen force of rage. Lando should not be bothered by such emotions, he should only know happiness and the like, that much Oscar was still convinced of.

That didn't mean the siren's wrathful storm wasn't beautiful in its own, harrowing way.

On one of his more lucid days, which came few and far in between, he combed the internet for advice on how to avoid dreaming at all, hoping for a respite from his torment. He tried almost everything: meditation, subliminal audios, sleeping medicine. None of it worked, Lando wouldn't let him rest.

One day, sitting on his couch, a bottle of vodka in front of him, Oscar contemplated the option he had not tried. He read quite a few people say they never dreamed after getting black-out drunk, it was a tempting idea. The reason Oscar had been reticent to try it was the same reason he never drank more than a few sips at parties, when he was forced to go.

He didn't trust himself to lose any more of his rational mind, it was barely enough to keep him from giving in as it was. If he began drinking, he could end up walking to the nearest port and just jumping before anyone could stop him.

With the passing of the months, however, it became difficult to convince himself it was not worth the risk. So what if drunk him did something stupid and he ended up dead? At least this would all end, at least he wouldn't feel the guilt of having done it in his right mind.

He grabbed the bottle and took off the cap, taking it directly to his lips. Before he could take the first gulp though, the screen of his phone, which he had left on the table next to where the bottle had been, lit up.

It was a text from his mother, asking how he was. Just like that, he couldn't do it.

Oscar put down the bottle, grabbing a cushion instead, burrowing his face in it. He hoped it was enough to drown his screams, he didn't want to worry his neighbours.

If only all those periodists that insisted on calling him an "ice boy" or "emotionless" could see him now. This is the reason he always had such a strong grasp on every emotion, every reaction.

Because he felt too much at any given time, and once he started screaming, he never knew how to stop.

One day, Oscar woke up and the song felt different again. For the first time in almost five years, the song wasn't angry anymore. It was worse, so much worse.

It was sad.

Oscar didn't think his heart could break all over again, but it felt like it did. Of course Lando's anger wouldn't last forever, that was not who he was, he wasn't built for anger. But he was still alone, still waiting for Oscar, and even if he wasn't angry anymore, he would keep his promise.

The summer break was about to end, he was leading the Driver's Championship in only his third year in Formula One. He had a real chance at winning.

And he knew he was running out of time.

He did it. He had only finished second in the race, the last race of the season, but that was enough. He had won the championship.

People were talking to him on the radio, they were congratulating him, saying how proud and happy they were. Oscar said something similar back, enough that no one would notice his mind was no longer in it.

He couldn't breathe.

He parked his car, climbed out. His body was moving on automatic, the way it had gotten used to doing. He knew he had to be breathing, his body would be shaking violently otherwise, but he felt as if he couldn't breathe.

What was he supposed to do know? His body felt heavy. Thankfully, everyone kept pushing him towards where he had to go. He was pretty sure he hugged his family, but it was no longer enough to ground him. Every time he tried to focus, he was in front of another camera, another mic shoved in front of his face.

If he were unresponsive, they would probably have done something about it instead of keep putting him in front of journalists, so at least some part of him was still working. The smell of sea salt was overwhelming, but at the same time the dryness of the air was making his skin itch.

Where were they taking him now? The hotel. Yes, they wouldn't expect him to go out to celebrate. Many of the other drivers had tried in the last few years, but after a few times where he had gone just to not speak to anyone, and drink just water, they had accepted it was not his scene. The team usually let him leave after they had enough pictures.

His sister had taken his phone for something, so he unlocked the device to try and find whatever it was. Three alarms, one to wake him up, one to make sure he was getting ready, and one to remember to leave so they could meet for breakfast. It was nice of her, especially since Oscar couldn't even remember making those plans. He probably said he was too tired to go out for dinner, it wasn't even a lie.

He dragged his feet to the shower, it was a mistake. The sound of the shower was like inviting the storm to his bathroom, the thunder worse than it had ever been. The water on his skin felt wrong. He took his hand to his nose, and was not surprised when he saw the blood coming out of it.

Did sirens cry? Maybe Lando was crying, the song projected forlorn like it never had before. And even amid the beauty of his voice, there was something blaring about it. Was he screaming?

Oscar found himself kneeling on the floor of the room in front of his suitcase.

He was the champion of the world. He was back-to-back champion of Formula 3 and Formula 2. He had dozens of trophies from the junior categories. That was a life of achievements, wasn't it?

His family would be heartbroken, he was supposed to live much longer, he was only twenty-four. Everyone expected this to still be the beginning.

Oscar was so tired, thought.

It would be easy for anyone else to think he should keep going, see how many more championships he could win. Maybe take this first one as permission to pay more attention to his personal life. Every sports news outlet was already asking the question of what was next for Oscar Piastri.

The truth is that he had done enough. Enough for his goals, enough for his family, enough for his fans. When he thought of what was next, he could only see a pair of blue-ish green eyes.

His time was up. He took his phone and got a ticket for the next flight to Melbourne, put on his most discreet clothes and grabbed his wallet. That was all he would need, and he had around nine hours before someone noticed he was missing.

The sun was long since gone by the time Oscar arrived to the beach. There was no need to avoid people, everyone was long gone, he was left in peace, walking along the sand, looking for a more secluded place. He was glad it was a full moon, it kept his surroundings illuminated. He had turned his phone off as soon as he got on the plane, and he had no intentions of turning it back on, not even for the flashlight.

He knew Lando wasn't bound to this place, he had confirmed as much when they had seen each other in England, but it felt right to come back here, to the same beach where they first met. He wasn't sure if it made any difference for Lando, but at least for him, every time his mind betrayed him and he daydreamed about following the siren, he imagined doing it here.

He left a part of himself behind the day his mother stopped him from drowning. He had lost many parts of himself since then, but right now, standing in front of the sea, ready to give in, it felt like it all clicked back inside him. The song was no longer painful to hear, it was again a sweet, warm calling. Lando knew he was here. This was the right decision.

It was the only decision he could make.

He began walking, but he was no further than the water touching his ankles when he heard someone calling his name.

"Oscar! Please, Oscar!"

The voice may have been familiar, but it mattered much less to him than the fact that he could hear the echoes of Lando's reproach.

They shouldn't be able to see you. You are letting them keep us apart.

What could he be doing wrong? He was ready to give up everything, he didn't want to go back. Even now, knowing Lando wouldn't take him when someone else was pulling him away, he couldn't bring himself to turn back.

"Oscar, can you hear me?" The woman who had been calling asked, finally reaching him and standing next to him, her hand immediately grabbing his arm.

Oscar didn't turn, but he did glance sideways, before returning his eyes to the only place that mattered to him.

He could recognize her now, she had changed very little from the last time he had seen her.

"You are the witch my mom took me to when I was a kid," he noticed. He couldn't remember her name, nor was he interested in asking again. "Why did you find me?"

"I always remember the names of the people that come to me for help, I have been following your career since you were in Formula 2. The media got wind of the fact that you were missing a few hours ago, I did my best to understand the signs given to me to find you," she explained.

"I didn't ask how, I asked why," corrected Oscar. "You couldn't help me when I was a kid, you can't help me now. Why would you come stop me? You knew I would eventually give in, no one can resist the siren's song forever."

He tried to sound annoyed, but the cracking in his voice betrayed him.

"Because you are in the prime of your life! I can't let you throw your life away now! You have to resist it."

"The prime of my life?!" He asked, not caring about the vulnerability in his voice. "I can't sleep, I can't hear my own thoughts, the media was right to call me a robot, anything human in me has to be buried so I can keep going. I have given everything the sea didn't take from me to make my family proud, to achieve everything I wanted since I was a child. What more do you want me to give?!"

He was crying, he could feel the water running down his face. It was a strange feeling, he couldn't remember the last time he had cried.

"It feels worse now because you are touching the water. Just come to my house and you will feel better. We can call your family, everything will be okay," she tried to reassure him, but he just began crying harder.

"Please, don't make me. I can't do this anymore. He is waiting for me, I know he is close, just let me follow him. I don't care about dying, I just want to be with him." He sounded pathetic, he knew it, but he couldn't help it. "I tried to stay away, I promise I did my best."

"I'm so sorry, Oscar, I know you did," she apologized. She sounded like she was about to cry too.

"Then please let me go to him. I need to be with him, he's calling." And he was calling him with such longing, such desire. Lando was giving back everything he had withheld in the last few years, it made Oscar shiver.

Slowly, he felt the hand in his arm let go, but she didn't step away just yet.

"Do you want your family to know? I still have your mother's number." There was no judgment, he wasn't trying to make him feel guilty or reconsider. Oscar wondered how bad he had to look for her to decide to give up.

Oscar thought about it for a moment. It was easier to think now than it had been in months, but he wasn't interested in mind clarity anymore. He pulled his phone and wallet from his pockets and offered them to the witch.

"Tell them the signs you got were too late, that you found this on the sand. I don't want them to wonder, but I also don't want them to think of me like this," he decided.

He hoped that, whatever moment he had with his family before returning to his hotel, was a good one. He hoped they saw him strong and smiling and that they could keep that as their last memory of him.

No one else needed to know the mess Lando had made him into.

"Okay, one last secret between us," she accepted. "You were so strong, Oscar, it's okay if you want to rest now." She took the items and began walking back to the sand.

Oscar didn't turn around to see her leave. He didn't care.

He resumed his walking until the water reached his waist. The moon's reflection on the water was blinding, but it was not what Oscar was looking for.

"Lando?" He called out. "I know you are here."

A movement caught his eyes, and he saw those eyes that had haunted him all his life break from the water. To Oscar's frustration, he wasn't coming any closer.

And Lando had promised, hadn't he? That Oscar would be begging. That was fine by him, he had left all his pride in Abu Dhabi.

"Please, Lando. I'm sorry I let them keep us apart," he apologized. "I'm sorry I walked away from you, I'm sorry. Please take me with you, I can't stand it anymore, all I do is miss you. I understand now that I am yours."

The siren swam closer, but still just out of reach for Oscar. He didn't try to chase him, Lando was too fast. Oscar wanted to fall to his knees, let Lando see how weak he made him, but the water was too deep, so his continued crying would have to do.

"Lando, please. I love you, I don't care about anything else. If you want me to die like this, then that's also what I want, I can't stand being away from you anymore." It was the first time he said the words out loud, not even in his dreams he had left himself say it. He knew it was accepting he had lost the war since day one. But what good could denial do at this point? "I love you. I have loved you since I was six, and I don't care if that's just your song messing with my head. It's all I know how to do."

A hand, one familiar and scaly, took Oscar's hand, guiding him deeper into the water, to the point it reached his shoulders. Just then, Lando drew himself close enough so that their faces were just centimeters apart.

Lando, his beautiful Lando. The constant ache in his chest was finally gone, the dread and gloom giving place to relief and contentment. His brain was no longer at war with his heart, every part of him happy where he was.

"Lando, please take me with you."

It seemed like that was enough for the siren, who finally closed the distance between them, kissing Oscar with a passion born of years of restraint. Oscar felt so loved, even if the words were never said back. It didn't matter, his time was up, and feeling Lando's careful hands wipe away his tears without breaking the kiss was better than anything he had ever imagined.

For someone who loves my song so much, you never learnt to trust it.

The Oscar from years ago would have asked what that meant, but this Oscar was past the point of caring, he just let himself be guided to deeper waters and, when he finally felt Lando pulling him under, he didn't put up a fight.

He was finally where he was supposed to be.

“The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself, with desire for what its monstrous laws have made monstrous and unlawful.”

― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray