Chapter Text
“Rise and shine, chéri!’
Oscar Piastri jolted upright, dragged out of his precious sleep by the violent sweep of curtains being torn open. Sunlight crashed into the room, pouring gold across the sheets like it owned the place. He squinted, groaning, one arm flung over his eyes as if that might block out the day itself.
The bed was still warm, still soft. It even felt like heaven five seconds ago, when he was peacefully asleep.
And now, here he was, awake, against his will.
There was only one human being on this planet unhinged enough to be this awake at this hour. And only one bold enough to wake him.
Charles Leclerc stood at the foot of the bed like a manic sunbeam, holding a tray stacked high with breakfast. Pancakes drowned in whipped cream. Eggs. Bacon. A cup of green tea, steaming gently.
Oscar blinked at him like he was a hallucination. Charles, meanwhile, was radiant.
“Isn’t it such a lovely morning?” He shined. “I brought your favorite breakfast. And I picked up your suit for the wedding! They pressed it twice because I didn’t trust them the first time. Between you and me they are not that good at their job... Anyway! I also paid extra for room service to come straight here for lunch and dinner if you would like it. Wait, I just remembered something else-“
The Monegasque then hopped off the edge of the bed mid sentence like Oscar wasn’t there and disappeared into the bathroom.
Oscar stared at the tray.
It’s too early to be hungry. And Oscar was always hungry.
He pushed the blankets off and leaned over to look at the time.
6:00 a.m.
He stared at it.
What the hell.
Charles reappeared, holding a glass of water and a pill bottle.
“I restocked your anxiety meds,” he said cheerfully, too cheerful at this hour. “You always forget. So you should take them now, before the day starts. Wouldn’t want you freaking out or anything!”
Oscar barely processed a lick of what his friend was saying to him, only focused on the blinding lights of the early morning.
Last night, he stayed up too late reading a report from his boss on his latest electrical project. His eyes burned just thinking about it.
He started to hear Charles come around to his side of the bed, still blabbering on, and that’s when Oscar finally rubbed his eyes to get a better look at him.
It’s then when he realized: Charles’s smile was stretched just slightly too tight. His eyes were too wide and his posture too straight. And the most weird part of all is how attentive he was being. Not that he never was, but it was way more than usual. His eyes followed every single movement Oscar made.
There was something frantic flickering underneath all that forced brightness.
The hairs on Oscar’s arms stood up.
“And I should let you know--”
“Charles,” Oscar croaked out. His morning voice sounding like it lost a fight.
“Yes?” Charles flashed a clearly performative grin.
“You are getting married in four days,” he replied slowly. “Why are you in my hotel room at six in the morning instead of with your soon-to-be husband?”
The Monegasque scratched his arm, avoiding his eyes. “Well….”
“Well, what?”
“He, kind of. Uhm. Knows where I am,”
Oscar straightened. Because, if Carlos knew, if Carlos approved this, then something was very, very wrong.
Because Carlos Sainz is logic stitched into human form. He does not panic. He does not overreact. He was the entire reason his fiancée wasn’t in a Psychward.
“Charles,”
“What?!”
“It’s Six A.M!”
“So?”
Oscar sighed deeply, rubbing his hands in his face. Dealing with Charles everyday, he had become god’s strongest soldier.
He went on. “What on earth could possibly be the reason Carlos would allow you to be here instead of with him?”
Charles' innocent face did not fool him for a second. “None whatsoever. I just wanted to be a thoughtful friend,”
Bullshit.
“If anything,” Oscar continued, voice sharpening as he slowly became more awake, “I should be bringing you and Carlos breakfast. Not the other way around. And for goodness sakes, you should not be picking up my groomsman suit!”
“So I’ll ask again,” he said softer now. “Why are you here?”
Charles exhaled, and for a split second, Oscar thought he was going to tell the truth.
Instead, he grabbed the tea and thrusted it forward. “Please drink this. Your mum said it was your favorite growing up.”
Oscar froze, attempting to process the insanity of what was just said to him.
“You spoke to my mum?!?!” His voice screeched and that's what did it. He was out of the bed in seconds, robe thrown on wrong, slippers half hanging off his feet as he stormed out into the hallway.
Oscar never claimed to be a morning person, so really, this was Charles’s fault.
“Where are you going?!” Charles called, chasing after him.
Oscar didn’t answer. He stomped down the hallway, silently apologizing to every guest he passed, all of them being elderly people with completely valid reasons to be awake this early.
Certainly not him.
He could hear Charles racing after him, but Oscar picked up the pace. He raced to his destination, determined for an answer.
After taking the stairs to the highest floor, Oscar reached the most expensive suite in the hotel and pounded on the door.
“Oscar!” The Monegasque charged up behind him and grabbed his shoulder. Oscar flicked his head to his and removed the hand from touching him.
And that’s when the door opened.
Carlos Sainz stood there, hair sticking up in every direction, eyes unfocused with sleep. He took one look at his frantic fiancé and furious best friend and sighed like a man who saw this coming.
“Why is your fiancée bringing me breakfast?” Oscar demanded. “Why is he picking up my suit? Why is he calling my mom? Why did you let him call my mom? What is happening that I don’t know about?”
“Don’t answer that!” Charles blurted, then immediately regretting it.
Oscar whipped around. “Why?!”
Carlos rubbed his face. “Come in. Both of you. Now.”
—————
Charles and Oscar sat on opposite ends of the couch like opposing diplomats.
Oscar made sure there’s distance between them. For now. If he looked at Charles for too long he might’ve murdered someone.
Carlos, freshly showered and caffeinated, sat across from them. He made them wait while he got ready, as if whatever this was deserves composure.
The room was silent, no one speaking or even moving. Oscar looked between Carlos and Charles and saw the absolute nervousness on their faces.
“We have to tell him, my love,” Carlos finally said, rather quietly. The tone was soft and sacred. Reserved only for Charles.
“Tell me what?” Oscar pressed, his impatience growing thinner by the minute. He should be asleep right now but he needed to know what the hell is going on.
Charles dragged his hands down his face. “I just don’t want anything bad to happen,”
Oscar’s pulse spiked, his heartbeat gaining rapidly.
Carlos’s expression turned careful and sympathetic. “He’s going to find out anyway. He’ll be here in five hours.”
He.
The word landed harsh onto Oscar. His stomach plummeted. His lungs forgot how to function.
He didn’t need them to say it now. But Carlos did anyway.
“You know how I told you Lando wouldn’t be able to go to the wedding due to travel issues?”
The name was like a blade. Oscar almost flinched.
Of course he remembered that. He remembered the relief he felt sinking into his skin, putting off the day Oscar would ever come into contact with Him again.
“Well,” Carlos continued gently, “it turns out he could rearrange things. He’ll be staying here in the hotel. With us. He’ll be attending,”
Tense silence followed. Oscar felt Charles watching him, waiting for impact. Waiting for him to crack.
And Oscar did feel like crying he’ll admit, but something else, something cold slid into place. A mask. Smooth and polished and impenetrable.
His therapist’s voice echoed in his head. If you’re not over it, fake it until you are.
He forced his lips to move. “That’s all?”
Carlos blinked. Charles looked stricken.
They were expecting a spiral. A collapse. The version of Oscar who didn’t get out of bed for weeks. The one who drank too much and cried in the street at three in the morning. The one who forgot to eat. To shower. To breathe properly.
But they didn’t know that that Oscar was gone. He made sure no one would ever see that version again. He made sure he could never feel pain like that ever again.
And the worst part of it all? The part that still keeps Oscar up late thinking about? It had been his own fault. He had broken his own heart.
“Are you…. okay?” Charles asked, steady. His right leg incessantly shaking with nerves.
Oscar forced a small smile. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
It got easier with each word. If he said it enough, maybe it would solidify into truth. Because it is the truth. Because it has to be true.
Carlos then spoke carefully, but he was always careful. Always mindful of people’s feelings. He could feel Carlos analyzing him, searching for a crack in his facade.
“Oscar, you don’t have to lie to us, you know that right? You don't have to pretend to be fine, it’s okay,” Charles nodded along.
“I’m not lying,” It came out sharper than he intended, and probably didn’t help his case. “Do you guys think I’m that weak? That I can’t handle even hearing his name?”
Part of Oscar’s anger was true, his two best friends looked at him like he was this frail person who couldn’t handle himself when it comes to Him.
“We don’t think you’re weak! We have never thought that. We just care about you a lot, okay? We were afraid you’d go back to that place. And we never want to see you that miserable ever again. We love you, Oscar,”” Charles said.
Oscar swallowed. He knew they were telling the truth.
They picked him up off the sidewalks. They carried him home. They sat with him in silence when silence was the only thing he could manage. They never once complained.
And now, it was their wedding week. And he was not going to ruin it.
Even if that meant looking Lando Norris in the eye and pretending his chest wasn’t splitting open all over again.
He folded his hands in his lap, straightening his back. Steady. Controlled. And ready to be alone as quickly as possible.
“I love you guys too,”
Oscar walked back to his hotel room with intentional silence. He focused on putting one foot in front of the other, staring down the long hallway without really thinking of anything.
As soon as his door closed, he let out a sigh. A long, deep one that made him feel like he had lived 50 years.
He was okay. He was completely fine.
Of course, hearing that you were going to be forced to see the person you were madly in love with for years after a year of not no contact wasn’t the best thing in the world.
But he was okay. He was going to be fine.
He just had to make it one week. One week and then he could peacefully go back to living his life, trying to heal from all of his past mistakes.
Because thinking of Him, Oscar could only think of how many mistakes he made.
And it brought pain, way too much. And if he was going to live a happy life, a somewhat peaceful life, he needed to move on. He needed to forget.
For the first time that morning, Oscar checked his phone. It was on the floor beside the bed, probably from his rushed escape after Charles’s little guilt induced breakdown.
There was a text from his sister waiting for him, and despite everything, his chest softened a little.
Hattie: i know its like 5 am there or something but i needed u to know i got the stray kids tickets!!
Oscar: That’s rather shocking considering how many people they have lining up to go to their concerts. Congratulations.
Hattie: am i imagining it or are you actually awake rn
Oscar: Unfortunately, yes
Hattie: ur an imposter my brother would never willingly be up this early
Oscar: It’s a long story that I don’t want to talk about
Hattie: oh there’s drama already? you just got there like a day ago. tell me tell me
Oscar: Absolutely not. Only grown ups can know.
Hattie: ur only a year older than me idiot
Oscar laughed quietly to himself.
Hattie had always been exhausting in the way only younger sisters could be, all relentless energy and noise and badly timed phone calls, but somehow she could still pull him out of his own head faster than anyone else.
Hattie: anyway i just wanted to thank u for the money so i could buy them <33
i WILL be paying you back as soon as i get this job i applied for
Oscar: You don’t have to
Hattie: i WILL thbak you very much
Oscar: Thank**
Hattie: oh piss off. have fun in spain or whatever
Oscar: Thanks. See you soon, Hattie
The room felt quieter after the conversation ended.
Oscar set his phone aside and opened his laptop instead.
Vacation or not, his inbox was already overflowing with questions only he apparently knew how to answer. A system failure. Missing files. Someone asking for approval on a design he’d already approved three days ago.
Oscar’s swore the company would completely collapse without him. And he meant that in the least narcissistic way possible.
He reached for the green tea Charles brought him earlier, took one sip, and immediately recoiled.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, shoving the cup away. “That’s horrific.”
Another email then appeared in the corner of his screen from his boss before he could stand up to take a shower.
How lovely.
Oscar stared at it for a moment, considering. He could ignore it, he was leaving the company soon anyway. But alas, he clicked it open, ever the workaholic.
Outside, the Spanish morning kept getting brighter. The hotel slowly waking up around him.
But Oscar kept working long after he stopped retaining any of the words on the screen.
⸻
Out of all the places Lando Norris has been to in the past year: Tokyo at midnight, New York in the rain, a nameless beach in Thailand where he barely saw anyone, he had not once stepped foot in Spain.
It almost felt on purpose.
He’d seen Marbella in photographs, of course. Postcards of white buildings stacked against hills, the ocean stretching endlessly blue, sunlight spilling like honey over everything it touched.
But pictures don’t carry warmth. They don’t carry air.
The February breeze brushed against his face as he stood outside the airport, soft and cool and impossibly gentle. It smelled faintly of salt and sun warmed pavement. He checked his watch.
Five minutes later, he checked it again.
He wasn’t nervous. He told himself he wasn’t nervous. There was no reason to be, at all.
A flash of red appeared in the distance, cutting through traffic like it owned the road.
Lando laughed under his breath. He didn’t know why he was shocked. Of course Charles and Carlos rented a Ferrari for the one week they would be here.
Subtlety had never been their thing. Between the two of them, they probably spent more on this weekend than Lando had on his entire year of traveling across the world.
The car took its time weaving through traffic, but when it finally pulled up, Carlos didn’t even bother closing the door properly before stepping out.
He wrapped Lando in a hug so tight it knocked the air from his lungs. “I’m never saying this again,” Carlos muttered into his ear, voice muffled and warm, “but I missed you so much, chico.”
The words hit harder than expected. For a second, Lando’s chest tightened in a way that had nothing to do with oxygen. He swallowed it down. “I missed you too.”
And he meant it more than Carlos would ever understand, because being mostly alone for an entire year did things to you, so this hug meant more than he could ever say out loud.
The Ferrari purred beneath them as they finally got in the car and drove, the Mediterranean flashing between buildings like it was teasing him. Lando admired the beautiful infrastructure along the way.
“You actually did it,” He started, shaking his head in disbelief. “You actually went through with it!”
Carlos laughed, one hand loose on the steering wheel, the other tapping impatiently against it. “I just knew it was time. We’d been together so long, and I knew I couldn’t imagine my life without him.” His voice softened. “So I did the only logical thing.”
“Which was?” Lando asked, already smirking.
“Propose to him, obviously,”
“I was going to say ‘buy the most expensive ring known to mankind’,”
Carlos shrugged. “It’s what he deserves.”
There was something in the way he said it. Not flashy or bragging. It was the fondness that radiated off him in waves, warm and unguarded and sacred.
Lando turned his head slightly toward the window, watching the blur of white buildings and blue sky.
He hoped someone talked about him that way. He hoped someone would look at him like that.
But he also hoped for a lot of things, and maybe after this trip, one of them could come true.
Carlos nudged his shoulder. “Enough about me. What about you, Mr. Disappeared-For-Eleven-Months. I’ve seen you once this entire time. Once. How are you, Lando? Truly?”
The question lingered in the car like exhaust.
How was he?
He wasn’t sad. That was the first thing that came to mind.
He hadn’t felt that deep, heavy kind of sadness in a long time. The kind that pins you to your mattress and makes the world feel smaller. Leaving had been a risk, running off to find himself. Dramatic, yes, but necessary? Completely.
A year ago, he’d needed distance. From home, from routine, from expectations.
From people.
He hadn’t expected it to work. But somewhere between late night conversations with strangers and mornings spent alone in cities that didn’t know his name, something had shifted. He’d learned how to sit with himself. Learned which parts of him were real and which parts had been built for other people.
He was still Lando. Still sarcastic. Still restless. Still a little too loud when he laughed. Drastically still imperfect.
But there was something steadier underneath now. A confidence that didn’t need constant reassurance. A quiet understanding of who he was when no one else was watching. He felt that he truly knew who he was now.
He really felt stronger. More whole. Well mostly, anyway.
Because there was still one thing, one person shaped absence, that the ocean views and passport stamps hadn’t managed to fill.
He swallowed, gaze fixed forward.
Not now.
He didn’t need to think about that yet.
“I’m…” He forced a grin, turning back to Carlos. “You know me.”
Carlos raised a brow. “That’s not an answer.”
“I’m…” Lando forced out, leaning back in the passenger seat like he hadn’t just swallowed something hard. “You know I’m happy.”
Carlos didn’t look convinced. “Really? You’re truly happy?”
Lando stared out at the blur of palm trees sliding past the window. “I mean, yeah. As much as I can be, after last year.”
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
He hadn’t meant to bring that up. Not here. Not on the drive to his best friend’s wedding. Not when the Mediterranean was sparkling like nothing bad had ever happened in the world.
Carlos shifted beside him, subtle but noticeable. “I understand,” he said quietly. “It was hard for you. And no matter what anyone says, I think it was good you left.”
Lando glanced at him. “You do?”
He was under the impression of the opposite. He had felt guilty, throughout the entire year, it really got to him sometimes.
And on the worst days, he thought he would lose his friends for good.
Because how do you explain to all your friends you need to leave the country and barely speak to them for almost a year to find yourself?
It barely made sense to him, but he knew it needed to happen.
“I do, chico.” Carlos kept his eyes on the road. “It was mature. Not to insult you, but… I had not previously known you as the most grown up type.”
Lando barked out a laugh. “Very fair.”
And it was. A year ago, he would’ve clung to familiarity. He would’ve stayed. He would’ve chosen the easier version of himself. Instead, he’d boarded a plane with one suitcase and a heart he didn’t know how to fix.
“Honestly,” Lando added, “I’m just shocked you or Charles didn’t hunt me down and drag me home.”
Carlos was quiet for a moment, carefully thinking.
“We’ve learned,” he said, “to take a step back. To not always insert ourselves into our friends’ lives. Even when we’re convinced we know what’s best.”
There was something pointed in that.
“Well, look at you,” Lando teased lightly. “Emotionally evolved.”
“Fuck off,” Carlos muttered. “Still mad at you for leaving.”
Lando laughed.
⸻
The hotel was insane. Not just nice or luxurious, but insane.
Marble floors that reflected light like water. Chandeliers that looked like they’d been hand-strung by angels with too much free time. The kind of place where even breathing felt expensive.
Of course Carlos and Charles would choose something like this.
Lando stepped into the lobby, hands shoved into his pockets, trying to look unaffected.
He somehow always managed to forget how rich his friends were.
“I’m underwhelmed,” Lando nonchalantly said.
Carlos flicked his head back to Lando. “Excuse me?!”
Lando smirked, he loved getting a rise out of Carlos. It was too easy sometimes. “I mean yeah, I expected it to be a bit more….”
“A bit more… what?”
Lando paused before he said. “Nice,”
“Nice?!? We spent so much money to get this place, what do you mean nice?!” Carlos pointed upwards. “Do you see that chandelier? That’s probably worth more than the entire Royal family combined!”
Lando shrugged. “I’ve seen better,”
Carlos’s jaw dropped, unable to form words. “Tell me you’re kidding,”
“Dead serious,”
“Do you want to see the bill?! Or we can speak to the manager! Because we sought out the best place in Spain to have this wedding-“
“Carlos!” Lando started to laugh. “I’m kidding!” And he lost it. Bending over to put his hands on his knees.
He could feel his bestfriend’s glare, a deep fire in the spaniards eyes.
“I hate you,” He simply said.
Once Lando was able to calm himself, he replied. “No you do not!”
As they made their way to the elevator, Carlos said: “I had to get you a room on a different level than all the other guests, I’m really sorry. They just didn’t have any other ones available-”
But Lando barely listened to the rest of what Carlos said, honing in on one detail.
Everyone would be staying here. At this hotel. Every guest.
His stomach flipped in a way that wasn’t nerves exactly. If everyone was here—
Then Oscar was here.
The thought didn’t creep in. It detonated.
Strawberry brown hair catching light. Almond eyes that always looked like they knew something he didn’t. The way Oscar’s hands felt, big, warm, and steady, even when the rest of him wasn’t.
Lando swallowed hard and his pulse picked up.
“Hey, uh, Carlos?” he tried, aiming for casualness and landing somewhere near suspicious. “How’s… everyone?”
Real slick, Lando.
Carlos raised an eyebrow. “Everyone?”
“Yeah, you know. The group.”
Carlos began listing names, ticking them off like a roll call. “Well George is as fiesty as ever. Him and Alex are disgustingly stable, I think they’re getting engaged soon, but you didn't hear it from me! Max pops in every once and while and out because Charles insists, which I hate but fine. Lance is here unfortunately, and don’t even get me started-“
Lando got frustrated the longer Carlos goes on his rant. Waiting for one name that's never said.
“What about Oscar?” he interrupted before he could stop himself.
The name left his mouth like before he could think.
He instantly regretted it. Even saying it felt dangerous, but every atom in his body had leaned forward at once, waiting.
And the silence following was loud.
Carlos tilted his head, a slow smirk spreading across his face. Like he planned this, like he purposefully didn’t say Oscar’s name, wanting Lando to specifically ask.
“He’s doing fine,” Carlos simply said, giving him absolutely nothing to work with.
“That’s it? Fine?”
“Well, what would you like to know?”
“Carlos!”
The Spaniard smiled. “He’s been a huge help with the wedding planning. Budget spreadsheets, vendor negotiations. Honestly, we wouldn’t have survived without him. He basically became our accountant for a bit,”
Of course he did. Lando’s chest tightened painfully.
That was so Oscar. Stepping in and fixing things. Making himself useful so no one could ever accuse him of being too much.
Lando remembered nights in college when Oscar would pretend not to care about anything: about grades, about people, about him, and then stay up until three in the morning perfecting a presentation no one asked him to perfect.
Carlos nudged him. “I didn’t think you’d want to talk about him…. Considering in Milan you practically shut down when we mentioned his name.”
Milan. Oh, Lando remembered that week too clearly.
He’d already been unraveling: jet-lagged, fighting with his mum, pretending he wasn’t lonely in a city full of strangers, desperately home sick, and then Carlos and Charles showed up unannounced, full of love and concern.
“Do you want to know how Oscar is?” they had asked.
And the answer had been yes. Always yes.
He wanted to know everything. Whether Oscar was sleeping. Eating. Laughing. Dating. Whether he still twirled his pen when he was thinking, or scrunched his eyebrows too much when someone made a dirty joke.
But he’d shaken his head.
Because if they’d said Oscar was miserable, Lando would’ve booked the first flight home.
If they’d said Oscar was thriving, Lando would’ve broken anyway.
If they’d said he’d moved on- Well that. That one would’ve killed him.
So he chose ignorance, pretended indifference. He didn’t mean to be cold, it was just the only way to protect himself.
“I wasn’t ready,” Lando muttered now, more to himself than Carlos.
“For what?” Carlos asked, his expression becoming thoughtful. Probably desperately curious since Lando had shut him out for a long time.
But Lando didn’t answer.
The truth was he hadn’t been ready to hear that he’d ruined the only person that made him feel real.
He hadn’t left to escape Oscar, despite what everyone thinks.
He’d left because the entire situation that happened had made him realize how small he felt inside his own life. How reactive and scared. How quick he was to choose safety over depth.
He didn’t want to come back the same person who’d walked away.
He wanted to be someone Oscar could choose without hesitation. Someone who didn’t flinch when things got serious.
Someone who didn’t run.
“Nothing. It’s fine, everything is fine. It’s okay now,” Lando said finally.
Carlos snorted. “I’ll believe that when I see it. Nothing is ever ‘okay’ with you two.”
Lando looked up at the numbers climbing on the elevator panel.
He told himself his heartbeat was normal. He told himself he was calm.
But beneath all of that, beneath the year of self-discovery and confidence and pretending he was whole, there was still the same truth.
If he saw Oscar again and nothing had changed, he would survive.
If he saw Oscar again and everything had changed--
He wasn’t sure he would.
And that terrified him more than anything.