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Summary
A year ago Lando was just this idea who lived in his head. A pretty boy with pretty hands who looked really fucking good when he raced his car. Now Oscar can’t actually imagine a life without him in it. When he tries, it’s bleak.
He’s spent three years with one ocean between him and his family. Parts of his heart left permanently on the other side of the Pacific. Now the parts that it felt like he kept to himself are going to spend most of the year on the other side of the Atlantic. It feels like he’s being drawn and quartered.
Even though most of his heart is in fucking Miami right now.
or Oscar Piastri, multi-dimensional trauma, and the dog he didn't think he was ready for.
Takes place between Chapters 19 & 20 of my fic in my room.