Chapter Text
Oscar was fifteen years old when she realized she was in love with her best friend.
Lando, the life and soul of every house party, who breaks down crying when she gets home because she drank too much and said stupid things.
Lando, who likes to wear sparkly eyeshadow and huge winged eyeliner, but often gets distracted halfway through and forgets to do the other eye.
Lando, who will spend all her money on new clothes but still steal Oscar’s anyway.
That’s the girl Oscar fell in love with, and that’s the girl who sits opposite her now six years later, drinking a purple smoothie and ranting about her latest boyfriend.
“—and he brought home a really expensive bottle of wine, and I appreciated the gesture, of course, but he knows I hate wine. I mention it at least three times a week.”
“No, you’re much more of a Blue Hawaiian girl.” Oscar says quietly.
“Exactly. Oscar, you just get me,” Lando sighs. “You’re my best friend, you know that?”
Oscar knows. Like the wine thing, Lando also tells her this several times a week.
“I know,” Oscar laughs. “You’re my best friend too.”
Lando finishes her smoothie off with a loud slurp through the straw, then she leans back in her chair, her expression suddenly going all happy and sly, which usually means she’s about to ask Oscar an uncomfortable question.
“Are you seeing anyone yet?”
And there it is. The Question.
The Question is what Oscar dubs anything related to her non-existent love life. It’s not that she’s shy about it, it’s just that…
Well. She hasn’t exactly come out to Lando yet. And she would be mildly uncomfortable, but nevertheless happy, to tell Lando about her occasional hookups, if only Lando knew.
“Um,” Oscar coughs. “No.”
She doesn't know why she hasn't told Lando yet. She’s her best friend; while she’s the most judgemental person on the planet when it comes to fashion or food preferences, she’s also one of the most accepting people Oscar knows. She hugs everyone, and loves everyone, and trusts easily.
Oscar suspects the reason is that if Lando knows she’s a lesbian, she is only one more step away from finding out about Oscar’s huge, ridiculous, six-year crush on her.
“Oh.” Lando frowns. “Do you… want to be seeing someone?”
Yes. “No. Not really.”
“Why not?” Lando asks, and Oscar knows she doesn’t mean it maliciously. Her mouth always curves up slightly in a dimple when she’s curious about something.
“Just not the right time, I guess.” Oscar squirms uncomfortably. “Haven't met the right person.”
“Hmm,” Lando nods. “You’ll meet him eventually.”
“Yeah, sure.” Oscar rubs the back of her neck, cheeks going warm. It’s awkward moments like these Oscar really just wants to spit it out: It wouldn't be a him. It would be a her.
Lando goes quiet suddenly, looking at her phone. “It’s Finn. He says to come home because… he accidentally put his red football shirt in the wash with my whites and lights, doesn't know what to do, and he needs me to fix it. For fuck’s sake.” Lando groans. “My new cream skirt was in there. I’m actually going to kill him.”
Oscar winces. “Sounds urgent, then. Don’t let me keep you.”
Lando looks regretful, standing up to give Oscar a brief, one-armed hug. “Sorry I’ve got to run. See you later, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Oscar echoes faintly, and then Lando’s gone, café door swinging shut behind her. Oscar feels a little dizzy, like she was just in the presence of a small hurricane.
Oscar often feels like this around Lando — she has such a big personality, so much energy and excitement, it often leaves Oscar feeling dazed. In a good way, that she absolutely cannot live without.
Oscar, on the other hand, has the personality of a sponge. She matches the energy of whoever she’s with in a watered-down copy, but she always feels like she doesn't have one of her own. Sleeping and yearning is all she seems to do these days.
Oscar finishes her milkshake, and stares at the lumpy dregs of ice at the bottom of the glass for a moment, before pulling on her jacket and following Lando’s long-gone trail out of the door.
An hour later, she gets an Instagram DM from Lando.
[oscarpiastri] landonorris
white skirt is now pink
She opens it immediately.
lando<3: white skirt is now pink
Oscar: Is it completely ruined?
lando<3: yeah pretty much. he says he’s going to buy a new one but i wish he just hadn’t been such an idiot in the first place
Oscar: I’m sorry. It looked like a really nice skirt from the photo you sent.
lando<3: don’t apologise it wasn’t your fault but yeah it was really nice :(
Oscar: We could go shopping together for a new one if you like? Just ask him to give you the money.
lando<3: good idea!! wait i’ll get back to you
Oscar: Okay
Oscar waits, and then her phone starts ringing with a call from Lando.
“He insisted on being all ‘gentlemanly’, and picking it himself. So I asked him did he seriously think I would trust him buying clothes for me when he can’t even wash them properly?”
Oscar snorts. “What did he say?”
“He looked like a kicked puppy then tried to play the guilt trip.” Lando says.
Oscar pulls a bemused face, even though Lando can’t see. “How? It was literally all his fault.”
“Well, exactly!” Lando exclaims. “Apparently he didn’t know that you weren't supposed to put colours in with whites. Next thing you know, he’ll tell me that he didn't know that raw meat is supposed to be cooked.”
“I mean, does he know that?” Oscar asks seriously. “I know what a protein junkie he is. Maybe he’ll end up with salmonella.”
Lando laughs. “I wish. I’m seriously thinking I should just… Before it gets any worse.”
“Mm.” Oscar hums non-commitally.
Lando’s sigh is audible over the phone. “I mean, I really want this one to work out. It was working out before he moved in, and then I realized just how useless he is at just about everything. He expects me to do everything for him, because he was never taught. And has no interest in learning, by the way.”
Lando has always had problems with relationships. There’s just so much of her; her overflowing, crazy emotions, her weird laugh, her obsessions. She’s such a complex, beautiful person, nobody has been able to match it.
So it’s kind of stupid to think Oscar could ever be her match, either.
“Hey, we should go out tonight.” Lando says suddenly. “I know you’re not big on the whole club scene, but…”
She’s right. Oscar does hate clubs. But she would also go wherever Lando asked her to.
“Yeah, okay. If it will make you feel better.”
Oscar can practically hear the smile in her voice. “It will! Thank you, Osc, you’re the best. I’ll pay for one of your drinks.”
“Sure, Lando.”
Three hours and an uncomfortable black dress later, Oscar is beginning to regret her life choices. And her fashion ones, too. The dress exposes her awkward, plank-like frame and complete lack of a chest, and the smoky eye thing she’s tried to do that Lando had taught her makes her look like a panda. And she can’t get her hair to behave. She’s straightened so it falls long down her back, but her fringe is annoying her so badly she feels like bursting into tears.
Lando had come bursting into her flat to get ready like a small, curly-haired whirlwind, and is busy chatting with Logan and Zhou in the living room, by the sounds of things.
Oscar dreads coming out of her room, but she knows she has to, so emerges slowly in the hopes nobody will notice.
Lando does first, of course. Her eyes flick up and down Oscar’s body so quickly she’s probably imagining seeing it.
“You look really good, Osc,” Lando compliments.
It’s mind-boggling coming from her. She’s clearly spent a lot of time on her hair—it curls neatly by her neck, resting comfortably on her bare shoulders. Her silvery, semi-sheer top must be new. Oscar knows this because one, she’s never seen it before, and two, because the tag is still sticking out. She swallows hard as her eyes find Lando’s. It’s becoming increasingly hard to behave normally around her, especially when she looks this good.
“You too,” Oscar croaks, clearing her throat. “Just let me get the scissors.”
“Oh, shit.” Lando twists around, trying to see behind her. “Did I leave the tag on?”
Zhou giggles. “Oscar, your hands are trembling,” she says. “Let me do it.”
Oscar hadn’t even noticed. “Okay.”
She passes the scissors to Zhou, who deftly snaps the tag off. “There, all set.”
“Don’t have too much fun without us,” Logan grins. “I would come too if I wasn’t completely snowed under with my project.”
“Next time, though,” Lando agrees. “Ready, Oscar?”
“Yeah,” Oscar says, apparently incapable of saying anything with more than one syllable. She follows Lando out the door, patting her bag to make sure everything she needs is still in there and hasn’t managed to fall out without her happening to notice. Meanwhile, she attempts to locate her missing vocabulary.
“You do look really nice,” she says to Lando. “I love your hair.”
Lando’s face splits into the wide, toothy grin Oscar knows so well. “Thank you, Oscar! I see you’ve managed to perfect my smoky eye.”
“Oh,” Oscar says self-consciously. “I thought it was quite shit, actually.”
“What?” Lando exclaims, stopping in the middle of the street to peer intently at Oscar’s face. “No, it looks great. Seriously, I would tell you if it was bad. It’s really not.”
“If you say so.” Oscar says, chewing on her lip.
“You need to have some self-confidence, Oscar.” Lando says gently. “You’re beautiful.”
Oscar is so stupid. She knows Lando means it in a totally platonic, non-romantic way, but she can’t stop the way her cheeks flush and her heart races at the compliment.
“Thanks.” she ends up mumbling. Too late, she realizes she should have complimented Lando back, but she doesn’t seem to mind, whistling as the club comes into view.
Once they go through the hassle of queuing, then digging out their ID’s, and paying the cover charge, Lando grabs Oscar’s wrist and pulls her gently inside, like she knows Oscar’s considering turning tail and bolting.
Inside, lights flash in heady shades of pink, purple, and blue, marbling the damp walls. The music doesn't hit Oscar immediately; but she can already feel the thumping of the bass under her skin. She follows Lando dutifully to the bar.
“What do you want?” Lando asks loudly, turning to face Oscar.
“Surprise me,” she answers, immediately regretting it. She’s seen the types of ludicrous cocktails Lando orders.
Thankfully, she’s picked her out something light and fruity, and is actually a normal colour. On the other hand, Lando herself is holding a radioactive, neon-green looking concoction with a cherry bobbing around in it.
“What the fuck is that?” Oscar asks, to which Lando giggles.
“I have no idea!”
Oscar laughs too, and watches on in amazement as Lando tips the whole thing down her throat without even blinking.
“Just tastes like melon,” Lando informs her, biting the cherry with a pop. Oscar tries very hard not to concentrate on the way her lips wrap around it. “Come on, Osc, drink up. I wanna go dance.”
She throws Oscar a look. “And I’m not going without you.”
Oscar sighs. Shrugging, she downs her drink, trying not to cough at the burn of floral spirit going down her throat.
Things go very hazy after that. Oscar can vaguely recall being trapped between Lando and another girl, dancing that turned into some kind of grinding threesome as they got steadily drunker, drink after drink being pressed into Oscar’s hand. She remembers some guy trying to grab her ass, before Lando threw her strawberry daiquiri all over him.
Right now, she’s half asleep in a cramped booth, slumped over the sticky table. She watches Lando dance with a tall man a few metres away, her hair steadily breaking free of the copious amounts of hairspray. Oscar yawns as her eyes begin to slide closed, even with the music pounding away in her brain.
“Osc!”
Oscar jumps, hitting her head on the back of the booth as she rockets up to face Lando, who’s staring at her with a fond expression on her face.
“‘M fine,” Oscar mumbles. “Alcohol just makes me sleepy.”
“Yeah, I know. Listen, did you see that guy I was dancing with? His friend thinks you’re cute.”
“That’s nice.” Oscar says, filled with a sense of impending doom.
Lando throws her a disbelieving look. “So you should go talk to him.”
“I think I’ll pass.” Oscar shrugs.
“Why?” Lando demands. “Osc, come on. Just give him a chance, yeah?”
Oscar feels a vague flicker of annoyance. “What’s so special about this guy?”
“Nothing!” Lando argues. “It’s just… It kills me to see you so sad all the time, Oscar. You never know, he might be the one.”
“He’s not.”
“You won’t even give him a chance!” Lando says, voice rising.
“That’s right,” Oscar fires back, getting to her feet. “Why would I?"
“Why wouldn’t you—”
And it’s too much. It’s too much, the music, the lights, her rapidly oncoming headache, Lando’s upset face. Oscar can’t help it. She loses her temper, and she can’t stop it in time.
“Because I don’t—I don't like men!”
Well. She didn't exactly mean to say that, but it's out there now.
They both freeze, hands braced on the table, eyes locked. Lando looks stunned, mouth open in a comical O, before she softens. Oscar isn't stupid, though. She can see the hurt in Lando's eyes that she tries to cover up with mere surprise.
“Osc… why didn’t you tell me before? You know I’m okay with it, don’t you?”
Oscar forces herself to snap out of it. “No, I—I know that.”
“So why didn’t you…”
“I don’t know.” Oscar interrupts. “I just… didn’t want how you thought of me to change, I guess.”
Lando looks like she’s going to cry. “It wouldn’t. It hasn’t. Come here,” she says, before grabbing Oscar and pulling her into a tight embrace. Oscar sniffs, and before she knows it, she’s crying into Lando’s shoulder. She spares a thought for her poor eye makeup, but she can’t stop herself.
She didn’t realize how scared she was of Lando knowing until she found out.
“Hey, hey. It’s okay.” Lando whispers into her neck. “I think it’s time we go home, yeah?”
“If you want to.” Oscar says, trying to compose herself as Lando finally lets her go.
“I want to.” Lando says firmly.
Lando links their arms together, and together they battle their way towards the exit. Once they get outside, Lando turns to her as they walk back to Oscar’s flat.
“I’m sorry for trying to pressure you into getting with that guy.”
“It’s okay.” Oscar says tiredly, Honestly, she’s willing to forget the entire thing ever happened.
“No, it’s not. So I’m sorry.” Lando corrects.
“Okay,” Oscar agrees. “I forgive you.”
Lando beams. “Cool. Mind if I stay over tonight?”
“Of course not.” Oscar assures. “Half of your stuff is round mine, anyway.”
When they get into Oscar’s room, she offers Lando her bed, but Lando just looks at her like she’s stupid. “It’s a double bed, Oscar, we’ll both fit. We used to have sleepovers all the time when we were younger.”
When they were younger, Oscar practically lived at the Norris’s house. Sent all the way across the world when she was fourteen for a sports scholarship at a prestigious English school, holed up alone in a tiny flat that her parents paid the rent for. But when Lando adopted her as a best friend, she pretty much moved into the Norris house, sleeping on a mattress on Lando’s floor, and eventually moving into the bed with her. Lando’s mum would cook her dinner, and ask about her day, and make sure she got her homework done. Everything Oscar’s mum couldn’t do all the way from Australia. Oscar would return to her flat a few times a month to keep the dust from settling.
Oscar never blamed her family. It would be crazy to pass up the scholarship — and she didn’t expect them to all move to England for her. It just hurt, sometimes.
“It was a bit more than sleepovers.” Oscar reminds Lando, mouth twitching.
Lando snorts. “Yeah okay,” she admits. “You basically lived at my house.” She gives Oscar a scrutinizing side-eye. “Do you miss your family a lot? You don’t talk about them anymore.”
Oscar takes a seat on her bed, Lando following suit. “Sometimes. I mean, I always miss them. But sometimes I miss them more than usual,” she says. “I wish I could see them more. But it’s better than when I was younger.”
“I’m sorry.” Lando says, putting her arm around Oscar’s shoulders and pulling her into a half-hug. “I wish you could see them more, too.”
Oscar is suddenly hit with a wave of intense sadness and longing for her family. Her mum, her dad, her three sisters who text her almost every day and never miss an opportunity to annoy her. She sees her family a few times a year, but she’ll forever envy Lando, who can visit hers whenever she likes. Oscar knows she’s always welcome in the Norris household too, but it’s not the same.
Oscar sighs. “Maybe one day, I can move back to Australia.”
“I’ve always wanted to visit.” Lando says suddenly. “I love your family, I want to meet them in person. I feel like your mum and I would have so much to discuss.”
Oscar flushes. “I’m never letting you two be alone together. Far too many embarrassing things about me will be shared.”
“Oh, Edie’s already told me all of that,” Lando says nonchalantly, waving her hand. “I heard all about your Kylie Minogue obsession, she sent me photos of the posters on your wall.”
“She what?” Oscar asks incredulously, blushing furiously. “She’s not supposed to go in there—”
Lando cackles and falls backwards into the bed, her head narrowly missing the wall. “I just can’t get you out of my head!” she sings, curling around Oscar like a worm and pulling her down.
Oscar buries her face in the pillow. “Stop, I beg you.”
“La-la-la-la—”
Oscar covers Lando’s mouth with her hand, muffling the tone-deaf singing.
“Hey!” Lando mumbles, and licks Oscar’s palm. Oscar jerks her hand away immediately.
“You’re so gross,” Oscar teases, voice light. “I need to go wash my hands now.”
“No, don’t leave me.” Lando complains.
Something in Oscar’s stomach tightens at the words. “I actually do need to go to the bathroom, though. I want to take all this makeup off and get out of this dress.”
“It’s a nice dress.” Lando says. “You look really good in it.”
Oscar privately thinks the opposite, but she can’t help her lopsided smile at Lando’s words. “Thanks.” she says, suddenly shy. “I’ll just be back in a minute.”
She snatches her pyjamas from where they’re lying in a pile on the floor, and wanders into her ensuite bathroom. Scrubbing the makeup from her eyes, she blinks blearily at herself in the mirror, lips pursing. She tears her eyes away to put on her pyjamas; they’re really just an old tank top and a fuzzy pair of cat-patterned pyjama bottoms that Lando got her one year for Secret Santa.
Lando’s on her phone, but glances up as Oscar emerges. She smiles as she takes in Oscar’s appearance.
“I had no idea you even still had those, let alone wore them,” she says, nodding towards the pyjama bottoms. “Cute.”
“I don’t throw away gifts.” Oscar tells her. “Especially not ones you give me.”
Lando offers her a crooked smile, eyes lighting up. “I guess it’s my turn, then.”
Lando takes ages in the bathroom, as usual, and even though she’s got her own pyjamas in Oscar’s wardrobe, she’s nicked some of Oscar’s anyway.
Oscar gives her a look. “Thief,” she comments mildly.
Lando shrugs. “Your sleep shorts are comfy.”
Oscar makes no further argument. She shuffles around to make room for Lando in the bed. Lando always insists on sleeping on the side of the bed that’s pressed against the wall; she says it makes her feel safer. That’s where Oscar likes to sleep too, but she gladly takes the outer side, because it makes Lando happy.
“Osc?” Lando whispers, her face lit up in a soft pink glow from the tulip-shaped lamp Oscar has.
“Yeah?” Oscar whispers back, eyes meeting Lando’s.
“I’m like… really grateful for you.” Oscar is alarmed to see that Lando’s eyes are filled with tears. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”
Oscar reaches out tentatively, and wipes a stray tear on Lando’s cheek away with the pad of her thumb. “I forgot how sentimental you get when you drink,” Oscar says fondly. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, too.”
It’s true. Oscar can want and hope for more as much as she likes, but at the end of the day, Lando’s her best friend. Her soulmate. She ultimately doesn’t care if Lando doesn’t love her back in that way—as long as Lando stays in her life, Oscar’s fine. If she ever loses Lando, she doesn’t know how she’ll cope.
Lando appears to be having similar thoughts.
“I just—don’t know what I’d do if I lost you,” Lando continues through rapidly thickening tears. “Nobody’s ever understood me like you. You just… know me. Really well.”
“Hey, shh.” Oscar soothes. “Don’t cry, Lando. It’s okay. You’re not going to lose me.”
Lando sniffs and wipes her eyes. “I’m not sad crying. It’s happy tears.”
“I know,” Oscar reassures her. “I just don’t like seeing you cry.”
“I don’t like seeing you cry, either.” Lando mumbles. “Almost fucking killed me, earlier.”
Oscar is lost for anything to say in response. Lando gets it immediately, obviously, and decides the best course of action is to squirm closer to Oscar and tuck herself tight under Oscar’s arm, her head resting serenely on Oscar’s shoulder.
Oscar holds her breath, scared of disturbing her. Lando appears to have fallen asleep already, or is very close to it—her breathing is all slow and deep, her eyelids fluttering slightly.
Oscar doesn’t get to sleep until hours later, despite her earlier exhaustion—the clock blinks half past four just as Oscar’s eyes droop, and eventually close.