Archive of Our Own

The first time Oscar met Lando, he’d been standing on a table in the middle of a freshman orientation party, shouting the lyrics to Mr. Brightside. He had never seen someone so in their element. 

Oscar had stared for a long moment before muttering, “He’s going to fall.”

“He does this every weekend,” someone beside him replied.

As if on cue, Lando slipped. Not fully. Just enough to send drinks sloshing everywhere as the room erupted into laughter. Lando caught himself on someone’s shoulder, grinning so brightly it was almost offensive.

Oscar should’ve left then. He really should have. He’d only come because his roommate claimed it was “social suicide” if he didn’t go. He already hated the sticky floors, the suffocating heat, the way strangers kept bumping into and spilling their drinks on him.

Just as Oscar predicted, Lando fell again, only straight into Oscar’s arms. 

“You look miserable,” he’d said.

“You look drunk.” Oscar deadpanned. 

“Correct.” Lando had grinned. “I’m Lando.”

“Oscar.”

It should not have been that easy.

And yet somehow, four years later, they were still here.

Senior year. Same ridiculous parties where Lando would drag Oscar along and would dance on the table while Oscar would make sure he didn’t fall, and then make sure he got home.

Even now, as Oscar dragged Lando into bed, making sure he had water and Advil for the morning.

“You know,” Lando said lazily from his bed, “I think I’m ready for something serious.”

Oscar didn’t look up from taking off Lando’s shoes. “That sentence sounds unnatural coming out of your mouth.”

“I’m serious.” He whined.

“You’re drunk.”

Lando threw a pillow at him.

Oscar caught it without looking.

“You’re evil,” Lando informed him.

“You’ve said that before.”

“Yeah, but this time I mean it.”

Oscar snorted softly. The sound made something warm settle in Lando’s chest in the way it always did. Lando rolled onto his stomach, shoving his face into the pillow. Oscar rolled him onto his side, “You’ll suffocate yourself, mate.” 

“Leave me to die, Oscar.” 

“My god, you are so dramatic.” Oscar readjusted Lando’s pillow and made sure his head was positioned just right.

Lando was getting properly sleepy now, “Mhmm, thank you, Oscar, you’re perfect.” 

Oscar’s movements faltered a bit, a slight flush coming to his cheeks. “Get some sleep, Lan, I’ll be back in the morning.”

As Oscar left the room, Lando’s thoughts wandered, stuck on the idea of finding something long-term. 

He was tired of hookups that meant nothing. Tired of dates, he sabotaged halfway through because none of them laughed like Oscar, or argued like Oscar, or looked at him the way Oscar did, or cared for him the way Oscar did…

It was pathetic, honestly.

In love with his straight best friend. He wasn’t entirely sure when it happened, but at some point, self-preservation had to kick in.

“I need to move on,” Lando said finally before drifting off to sleep.

>>>>>>>

The next day, Lando’s hangover was horrid. He drank the water and took the Advil Oscar had left for him. Much to his dismay, it did not kick in right away. A knock sounded on his apartment door. Lando did not get up to answer it. 

He eventually heard the door click open and shut, announcing Oscar’s presence. He was the only other person with a key. 

Oscar paused in the bedroom doorway, realizing that somehow Lando had managed to get out of all of his clothes again. 

“How do you manage to always end up naked, even after I tuck you in clothed?” Oscar huffed and smirked at Lando’s condition. 

“No time for your jokes, Oscar, I’m hot and dizzy.”

“C’mon, I’ll start you a shower.” 

“Cold water, Oscar!” Lando shouted after him. 

“I know,” Oscar shouted back.

After Lando’s 30-minute shower, he and Oscar lounged on the couch with the noodles and 17 spring rolls Oscar ordered for them.

“You remember what I said last night?” Lando began, taking a bite of his 4th spring roll.

“Do you remember what you said last night??” Oscar’s ears warmed slightly, remembering things Lando had said. 

“Ya know, about me finding a serious relationship. I think it’s time for me to move on.”

Something flickered across his face too quickly for Lando to read.

“Move on from who?”

Lando forced a shrug. “No one. Just in general, like with life or something.”

Oscar stared for another second before returning to his noodles. “Right.”

“And,” Lando continued carefully, “you’re going to help me.”

Oscar looked horrified. “Absolutely not.”

“You’re sensible and all serious.”

“That’s your argument?”

“You’re terrifyingly judgmental. You’d know who’s actually good.” He was going to say ‘for me’ but omitted it at the last second. 

“I already hate this.”

“Please?”

Oscar sighed dramatically. “Fine. But if you end up murdered by some finance major named Tyler, I’m not going to say I told you so.”

Lando grinned, “Precisely why you are helping me, because I would end up murdered by a finance major, or worse, a nursing major, named Tyler.”

>>>>>>>>>

The first date ended because the guy spent twenty minutes talking about crypto. Lando only smiled and nodded the whole time. Oscar had vetoed him immediately afterward. Lando complained because he was ‘hot’. 

“You couldn’t even have a conversation with him,” Oscar argued.

“You don’t need to talk to do other activities, I am sure I could have just kept pretending to know what he was talking about.” 

“He called himself an entrepreneur,” Oscar said flatly as they walked across campus, ignoring Lando’s comment. “He’s unemployed.”

“You barely spoke the entire date.”

“I was observing.”

“I thought you were looking for something long-term.” Oscar knew he had him there.

“Ugh, this is hard.”

“Lan, you’re one date in.” 

Lando only groaned in response; Oscar could only think of the disaster he had gotten himself roped into.

>>>>>>>>>

The second date was better. Lando got to know her, and they talked about school, hobbies, favorite foods, anything and everything. 

They laughed over their shared party stories, like the time Oscar had to drag Lando out of the pool, or when Oscar had to stop him from stripping on the campus lawn because he was too hot. 

She clocked it then. That Lando wasn’t really interested in her. 

“We can be friends,” She gave him a reassuring smile. 

“Ugh, I am pathetic, aren’t I? On a date with a pretty girl that my best friend set up, and I can’t stop talking about him.” 

So he told her. He told her how he felt, just to tell someone to get it off his chest. She listened, like really listened, and maybe that was exactly what Lando needed. 

“Have you thought about telling him?” She asked. 

“Fuck no. Shit, sorry,” Lando winced at how fast his reply came out, “No, I could never tell him and lose out on our friendship, no way.” 

She watched him for a moment, “Is it better to speak or to die?” 

“Did you just quote Call Me by Your Name ?” 

“Seemed fitting.”

Their conversation circled back to random topics before they ended the night. She had asked him to think about it. He didn’t need her to say what she meant. He knew.

>>>>>>>>

The next morning felt normal. At least, Oscar thought it did. They met outside their apartment building at the usual time. Lando was already waiting on the sidewalk, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie.

"Morning."

"Morning."

Oscar fell into step beside him automatically. The walk to campus wasn't long. Long enough for Lando to complain about being awake, short enough that Oscar let him.

Today, Lando seemed distracted. 

Oscar glanced over. Lando was staring straight ahead, chewing on the inside of his cheek. That was unusual.

Usually, he'd be asking Oscar to carry him, or suggesting they turn around and have a skip day; to be fair, Oscar did give in occasionally.

"How'd your date go?” Oscar asked, attempting to break the silence.

Lando nearly tripped over absolutely nothing. Oscar watched him regain his balance, eyebrows raised in question.

“...Fine." Lando finally answered a bit flustered.

Oscar shoved his hands deeper into his jacket pockets. "Just fine?"

"Yeah."

Another few steps. Lando kicked a pebble into the road. Oscar watched it bounce on ahead of them.

“Huh." Oscar huffed.

Lando glanced over. "What?"

“Oh, nothing."

It wasn't nothing, obviously, but Lando didn’t seem keen on spilling details, so Oscar wouldn’t push.

The date had gone well. Oscar knew it had. She was nice, funny, pretty. All the things Lando liked. Logically there was no reason it shouldn't have gone well.

So why was Lando acting like this? Oscar glanced over again.

Lando was staring very intently at a tree.

A tree.

The tree was not that interesting.

"What did you guys do?” Oscar’s curosity gave in.

Lando groaned immediately. “We just had dinner, Osc, whats with the interrogation.”

“What?” Oscar blinked. “I am not interrogating you."

"You kind of are."

Oscar opened his mouth. Closed it.

"We talked.” Lando gave in, realizing he wasn’t going to get out of it, so he should at least give him something.

Oscar waited for Lando to continue. He didn’t… Oscar pushed. ”...About?"

"Stuff."

Oscar stopped walking and looked at Lando, “Stuff.”

"Yeah."

"Very descriptive."

Lando shoved his shoulder lightly, a signal to keep walking. Oscar stumbled half a step before following along again.

The weirdness remained… growing.

Oscar hated it.

Beside him, Lando was having an equally terrible time. Every question felt dangerous. What was he supposed to say? *The date was great, actually. We spent half of it discussing you.* 

Lando glanced sideways.

Oscar was frowning, pouting, puzzled??? He'd been doing that for most of the walk.

And Lando knew that look.

It meant Oscar was trying to solve something.

And Lando knew the thing Oscar was trying to solve was him.

Which gave him a pit in his stomach, a nauseous feeling in his head, it left him jittery and on edge. He needed to play it cool so Oscar would drop it. 

"So," Oscar said.

Lando immediately tensed, tried to play it off as a trip; he needed to stop, Oscar was going to get suspicious of Lando’s recent bout of clumsiness.

“See, there it is.” Lando responded after his ‘recovery.’

"What?"

“That tone."

"What tone?"

"The one you get when you're about to ask more questions."

Oscar looked offended. "I do not have a tone."

"You absolutely do.” Lando started to tease him. Yeah, this was normal. Lando just needed to act normal. And not stare at his smile or his eyes for too long… his hair. Oh my god, his hair…

"I don't."

"You do.” Lando cleared his throat while trying to clear his thoughts.

Oscar rolled his eyes.

Lando smiled despite himself.

The smile faded almost immediately.

Because now Oscar was looking at him. Really looking. Studying.

Lando looked away first. Hiding the flush that came across his cheeks. Why did he tell that girl so much? Now it’s all he can think about.

“You're being weird.” Oscar squinted his eyes, continuing his study of Lando. 

"I am not, I am being perfectly normal.”

“Lan. You even saying that proves there’s something you’re not telling me.” Oscar deadpanned. He wondered what happened on this date that Lando felt he couldn’t tell him.

Neither of them spoke for a second.

Then simultaneously:

"You're the weird one."

They stopped.

Looked at each other and immediately started laughing.  Neither was willing to admit the other had a point. The lecture hall appeared ahead of them. Both of them felt oddly relieved. Lando wanted to have a moment to collect his thoughts, and Oscar just wanted the weirdness to go away. 

Oscar watched Lando still. How the tension left his shoulders as they filed into class. The sigh that left his mouth when they sat in their usual seats toward the back. The way he set down his notes and pencil, which always managed to roll off the table. Oscar caught it this time. 

“Uh, thanks.” Lando grabbed the pencil out of Oscar’s hand. A slight flush to his cheeks. Oscar thought he had seen it earlier. 

The professor began talking.

Oscar opened his own notebook and tried to focus on the lecture.

He was failing miserably because Lando was tapping his pencil against the desk. Not constantly, enough that Oscar kept noticing.

A few minutes later, Lando rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. Oscar noticed that too.

The professor continued with his lecture. Oscar’s notes made no sense; he had missed chunks of information. 

Oscar copied down half a sentence before glancing up.

Lando wasn’t even writing; he was doodling little blobs on the corner of his paper. Oscar knew Lando would ask him for his notes, and then he’d complain that they didn’t make sense. Oscar frowned at the thought. 

Lando noticed his frown. Wondered what had him thinking so hard that his emotion was showing on his face. Was he still trying to figure out what happened on the date? Was it something with the class? Lando had given up on writing his own notes. His own brain was too distracted by his predicament. 

Oscar over at Lando again. Lando was looking down.

A few minutes passed, and Lando looked up. Oscar was writing.

Neither of them caught the other. Not once. By the end of the lecture, both were completely convinced something was wrong.

And Oscar had no idea what it was…

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The second date ended when Oscar interrupted halfway through, claiming there was an “emergency.”

“Oscar, this is not an emergency,” Lando accused. Oscar was trying to find an outfit for the party tomorrow. “And since when have you cared what you wore?”

“Since right now.” Oscar didn’t know what came over him. He was sitting in his room making sure he was caught up on homework and organized for the next week, a normal Friday night for him. Except Lando wasn’t there bugging him about doing something fun, whether it be finding a party, going to the club, or playing video games.

Lando stared at him in disbelief, “Who are you and what have you done with my Oscar?” 

‘My Oscar’ lingered in Oscar’s head longer than he cared to admit. Sure, he could be a bit possessive; he had been with girlfriends in the past. Probably why he couldn’t keep one for very long. Also could’ve been them accusing him of choosing Lando over them. Bros before Hos ya know… 

“I don’t know, I mean, it’s our last year, maybe I should start caring a bit.” 

Lando’s eyes were about to bug out of his head. “Oh, Oscar! You don’t know how long I have waited for this day.”

“Okay, wait, Lan. Maybe not this much.” Oscar tried to argue as Lando started pulling out outfits Oscar wasn’t even aware were in his wardrobe. “Where did you even get that?” 

“You think the clothes you wear have just been appearing in your closet out of nowhere. I have been sneaking stuff in for years.”

Then he looked at his closet, back at Lando, and back at his closet.

It was entirely possible, even probable. Lando had somehow accumulated his own drawer and closet space in Oscar's room sometime during freshman year. Then a shelf in the bathroom. Then half the freezer. Oscar supposed that a few shirts making their way into his wardrobe wasn't entirely out of the ordinary. Still.

"You've been what?"

Lando looked entirely unapologetic. "You never buy clothes."

"I buy clothes."

Lando raised an eyebrow.

Oscar hesitated. "...Occasionally."

Lando ignored him, disappearing into the closet. Oscar watched in horror as hangers began sliding back and forth.

Then a shirt was thrown at his chest. 

Then another. 

A jacket. 

A pair of trousers.

"What is happening?"

"The day I have been dreaming about for years."

Oscar already regretted everything.

Ten minutes later, his room looked like a department store had exploded. Clothes covered his bed. His desk chair. The floor. Even his carefully organized laundry basket had somehow become involved.

Oscar stood in the middle of the disaster wearing a black quarter zip while Lando circled him critically. It fit surprisingly well. The sleeves stopped perfectly at his wrists. The shoulders sat correctly. It looked tailored.

Oscar narrowed his eyes.

"How did you know this would fit?"

Lando froze. Only for a second. Then he shrugged. "I guessed."

Oscar didn't believe that for a moment; no one guessed on a fit this perfect. The material itself felt incredible. Much better than the cotton t-shirts Oscar usually wore.

As Oscar pondered more on how Lando knew his exact clothing size, I mean, even the trousers were the perfect fit. So much so, he didn’t need a belt; Lando made him put one on anyway. He thought about how Lando knew the exact coffee order he got during exam weeks. He knew which side of the couch Oscar preferred. He knew what kind of pasta sauce he bought. 

“No." Lando cut off Oscar’s train of thought.

Oscar sighed. "What do you mean no?"

"It's missing something."

"It's a shirt."

"It is not a shirt, it’s a quarter zip,” Lando corrected, “It’s cute, but I think we could do better.” 

Oscar looked down at himself. "It is a black shirt."

“Don’t get me started."

Apparently, this was a problem.

The next outfit involved a white t-shirt, which was much more in his comfort zone. A black leather jacket with “Las Vegas” on one sleeve and “Racing” on the other, and black baggy jeans.

Oscar emerged from the bathroom, still adjusting his arms in the sleeves of the jacket. 

Lando looked up. For a second, something unreadable crossed his face. Gone almost as quickly as it appeared.

Oscar frowned. "What?"

Lando blinked, dumbfounded. He knew Oscar was hot, he just hadn’t realized he could get hotter… "What?"

“You’re making a face and idk if it’s a good or bad face.”

Lando laughed, “Oh, it’s a good face. You look good. Like really good.” OH MY GOD. He did not just say that. 

The room suddenly felt very warm. Oscar looked down at himself. Not that he spent much time evaluating himself. Lando apparently did enough for both of them. Which was a thought Oscar immediately chose not to examine. Oscar moved to look at himself in the mirror. He didn’t look bad, maybe he did look quite good. He caught Lando’s reflection in the mirror. Lando was unaware that Oscar could see him. He was looking at Oscar, intently… The realization caught Oscar off guard.

Oscar shifted awkwardly beneath the attention. Something strange settled in his chest. Not uncomfortable. Just unfamiliar. Lando had always looked at him, but this felt different.

The moment stretched. Outside, someone was shouting in the hallway. Music drifted through the walls from another apartment. Neither of them moved.

Finally, Lando stood. A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “This is it."

Oscar glanced down. At the jeans. The shirt. The jacket. Then back up.

“That easy?"

Lando's smile widened.

“Yeah, that’s the one."

Oscar looked in the mirror again, really looked. For once, he didn't immediately focus on flaws or practicality. He tried to see what Lando was seeing.

The outfit looked good. Effortlessly good. Like someone had actually considered what suited him. Which, apparently, someone had.

A strange warmth settled somewhere behind his ribs. Lando was already gathering discarded clothes from the floor. Lando loved things being organized, hence why Oscar’s closet was color-coded, and all of his t-shirts were at the forefront, where he could grab them easily. 

Lando was talking about something as he cleaned. 

Oscar wasn't really listening. One thought had lodged itself stubbornly in his head.

Has Lando always been this attentive? 

Why am I only just noticing now?

>>>>>>>>>>>>

Now that Oscar’s room was back, Lando liked it. They were chilling on Oscar’s couch, one of the Fast and the Furious movies playing in the background. Both of them had lost count of how many times they had watched them together. Neither of them tiring of them.  They hadn’t been paying much attention to them as they were discussing Lando’s date again…

“You obviously hated him.” Lando shouted over Oscar’s excuses

Oscar crossed his arms. “I didn’t hate him, he just, He called you ‘Lan.’ Who uses nicknames on a first date?”

“So?”

“So I thought he was a little too comfy too fast.”

Lando blinked. Something warm and awful twisted in his chest.

“Right, you know you set me up with him,” Lando so kindly reminded him.

“Well, clearly I need to choose better.” Oscar huffed, eyes not leaving the television screen.

“Aw, Oscar, always looking out for me.” Lando patted his head as Oscar sank further into the couch, deeming it not to continue the conversation. 

Mainly because he didn’t like the ugly feeling in his chest when he thought about Lando going on more dates.

>>>>>>>>>>>>

By the fourth failed date, their friends had started noticing.

“You know,” Logan said carefully over lunch, “this whole thing is a little weird.”

Oscar looked up. “What thing?”

“The fact that you’re acting like Lando’s bodyguard during every date.”

“I’m helping.”

“You threatened a pre-law student because he touched Lando’s shoulder.”

“They hadn’t even been talking for 5 minutes, and it wasn’t his shoulder.”

“Oh yes, I forgot, he was ushering him inside and placed his hand on Lando’s lower back. Which, by the way, Oscar is a completely normal thing to do.” Logan pointed out

“Well, Lando seemed uncomfortable.” Oscar’s attempt at arguing wasn’t fooling anyone except himself.

Logan stared at him for a long moment,

Then he looked at Lando.

Lando immediately focused very hard on his fries.

“Oh my God,” Logan whispered.

“What?” Oscar demanded.

“Nothing.”

Logan was smiling in the deeply irritating way people smiled when they understood something before you did.

>>>>>>>>>>>.

Oscar agreed to meet up at Lando’s before the party so Oscar could drive them, since he wouldn’t be drinking. The party wasn't for another hour.

Oscar stood in front of his bathroom mirror, adjusting his clothes for what had to be the fifth time. The black Vegas jacket sat comfortably across his shoulders. The white t-shirt underneath fit properly for once, instead of hanging off him like most of his clothes. Even the jeans looked good.

Which was irritating, because now he understood why people spent so much money on clothes.

The realization made him feel vaguely betrayed.

Oscar ran a hand through his hair. It immediately fell back into place. Good enough.

His phone buzzed.

Lando: hurry up grandma

Oscar rolled his eyes.

Oscar: I've been ready.

The typing bubble appeared instantly.

Disappeared.

Reappeared.

Lando: liar

Oscar: says the man who owns seventeen hair products

Lando: nineteen actually

Oscar shook his head and grabbed his keys.

Meanwhile, across the courtyard, Lando was having a crisis.

A completely normal crisis. The kind people had all the time. He stared at himself in the mirror. Then changed shirts. Again. 

Then changed back. 

Then changed jackets. 

Then changed back.

Because apparently, tonight was the night his brain decided to stop functioning. The date situation had already scrambled whatever common sense he possessed.

Now Oscar was going to show up wearing the outfit Lando had picked out for him. 

The one Lando had spent entirely too much time thinking about. 

Not because he was in love with Oscar.

Well.

Not just because he was in love with Oscar.

The point was—

Lando wasn’t blind.

And Oscar was unfairly attractive when he actually tried.

A dangerous combination.

A knock sounded at the apartment door. A habit Oscar picked up after walking in on Lando in, let’s just say, compromising positions. Lando froze.

"Oh no."

Oscar opened the door without waiting. Which was normal.

The words died immediately in Lando's throat.

Oh.

Oh, that was—

Oscar stood in the doorway looking annoyingly good, like so fucking good, Lando wondered how he was going to survive tonight.

The jacket fit perfectly.

The white shirt contrasted against his skin, hugged his abs, his waist, which Lando only noticed because the jacket opened up as Oscar reached his arm back to shut the door behind him.

His hair looked effortlessly styled despite Lando knowing for a fact he'd spent approximately twelve seconds on it.

Oscar frowned.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

Lando realized he'd been staring. “Just thinking you should’ve let me dress you years ago.” 

Oscar narrowed his eyes. Lando’s cheeks warmed, and he now thought that taking a few shots of liquid courage before Oscar got here may have been a bad idea.

“Don’t get used to it.”

Lando barked out a laugh. Thank God. Humor. Safe territory.

"Sorry."

Oscar looked suspicious. "Why are you apologizing?"

Because you look incredible.

Because seeing the outfit on again was somehow better than the first time. Because Lando had spent four years training himself not to think too hard about how attractive his best friend was, and tonight all that hard work had vanished instantly.

Instead, he said:

“Want a shot."

Oscar raised his eyebrow. “Sure, what’s on the menu tonight?”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Lando’s mouth. “Tequila, of course.”

“Why did I even ask?” Oscar shook his head as he followed Lando into the kitchen.

As Lando poured the shots, Oscar asked, “Do I really look okay?”

“Yeah." Lando is trying furiously to be nonchalant.

"That's all I get?"

Lando handed him his shot. ”The ego on you.” 

Continuing this conversation felt dangerous. They held eye contact as they downed the shot, Oscar immediately shoving the lime in his mouth.

>>>>>>>>>>>

The party was already in full swing by the time they arrived. Music pulsed through the walls of the house hard enough that Oscar could feel the bass vibrating through the wooden porch beneath his feet.

The front door stood open, and people spilled onto the lawn.

Someone was attempting to climb a tree while someone was filming it. Someone else bent over a bat spinning in circles while a crowd cheered him on.

Oscar immediately regretted coming.

Beside him, Lando looked delighted.

“Beautiful," Lando whispered.

Oscar deadpanned. "It's a hazard."

Lando grinned. "That's what makes it exciting. This is life in its purest form. No inhibitions.”

Oscar rolled his eyes.

The stupid thing was that he knew this, the noise, the crowd. Knew Lando would immediately disappear into it, thrive in it.

What he hadn't expected was how distracting Lando looked.

His curls were slightly messy from their walk over. The silver chain around his neck caught the porch light when he moved. The way his jaw clenched as he took in the scenery before him. The smile that lit across his face as people came up to greet Lando, only nodding to Oscar and then going on their way.

Oscar immediately looked away.

He blamed the alcohol.

Inside was worse, hot, crowded. Bodies moving shoulder to shoulder beneath flashing colored lights. The air smelled vaguely like cheap beer and someone's aggressively sweet perfume.

Oscar followed Lando through the crowd. Or rather… Lando dragged him through the crowd. His hand wrapped around Oscar's wrist to keep them together.

A normal thing. A completely normal thing. They'd done it a thousand times. Yet somehow Oscar couldn't stop noticing it.

The warmth of Lando's hand. The way his thumb occasionally brushed against Oscar's skin as he maneuvered through people. The fact that every time Lando glanced back to make sure Oscar was still following, something strange happened in Oscar's chest.

Two drinks later, things had somehow gotten worse.

Lando was drunk.

Not blackout drunk.

Not table-dancing drunk… yet.

Happy drunk.

Which Oscar had always considered the most dangerous version.

Because happy drunk Lando was very affectionate. With everyone.

Usually, Oscar didn't think twice about it. Tonight he was noticing entirely too much.

Like how Lando kept ending up beside him.

How his body would bump against Oscar's every few minutes. How he leaned close when speaking, even though Oscar could hear him perfectly fine.

How his hands kept finding Oscar's arm. His back. His shoulder, massaging it in a way, sometimes sneaking toward the junction where his neck and shoulder met.

Oscar hated how aware he was of it.

At some point they'd ended up squeezed into a couch with half a dozen other people. Lando practically collapsed against him. Head landing on Oscar's shoulder.

Oscar froze. Only briefly.

Aware of the warmth. The weight. The faint smell of his cologne mixed with beer. Lando sighed contentedly. Deciding Oscar made an acceptable pillow.

No one else seemed to find this strange. Which made sense. Lando did this all the time. Oscar usually didn't think about it. Tonight, he couldn't stop thinking about it. His pulse felt oddly loud, his hands a little clammy.

"You know," Lando slurred slightly.

Oscar immediately knew he was about to regret whatever came next.

"What?"

"You're pretty."

Oscar blinked. “What?"

Lando pointed at him, his finger booping Oscar’s nose, ”Pretty.”

Across the room, someone started laughing. Oscar prayed it wasn't at him.

"Lando."

"You are."

“You’re drunk."

“So? Drunk words sober thoughts.” The answer came so quickly that Oscar nearly choked.

Lando looked entirely unbothered. Then he smiled, a soft, lazy, dangerous smile.

Oscar looked away first. His ears felt warm.

Which was ridiculous. Lando was drunk. Very drunk. And Oscar was absolutely not going to unpack whatever had just happened.

A problem arrived twenty minutes later.

In heels.

Oscar recognized her immediately. The second date. The one that had supposedly gone well, but they never went on another one.

She smiled the moment she spotted Lando. Lando smiled back.

Oscar didn't like how quickly that smile appeared.

The feeling hit him before he could stop it. He didn't like it. Not one bit. The feeling sat heavy beneath his ribs. Something sour and irrational.

Something that made him want to leave.

Lando stood to greet her.

Oscar watched.

Watched her laugh.

Watched her touch his arm.

Watched Lando smile.

Watched her lean closer.

And suddenly the room felt too small.

The music too loud.

The crowd too… crowded.

"Hey," she laughed. ”I didn't know you'd be here."

Lando smiled.

"Yeah, I drag Oscar to most of these. I haven’t seen you here before.”

“Well, now you know me, silly, this is the first party I’ve gone to. How are things with Oscar?”

Oscar noticed her eyes shift toward him. Something passed across her face. Recognition, Realization. Almost amusement.

Oscar hated that; he couldn’t hear or see what Lando was saying, only able to watch his shoulders shake as he laughed.

The conversation continued. Only a few minutes. Probably less. Every second felt longer than the last. Lando looked happy, comfortable, and relaxed. Exactly what Oscar had wanted. Wasn't it?

That had been the whole point. Find Lando, someone. Help him move on. Help him be happy. Why did Oscar suddenly feel like he was losing something?

When Lando returned, still smiling slightly, Oscar stood.

"Let's go."

Lando blinked.

"What?"

"We're leaving."

Confusion crossed his face.

"Oscar—"

"Now."

The smile disappeared.

Immediately.

And for the first time all night—

Lando looked genuinely upset, and Oscar knew it was his fault.

>>>>>>>>>

The fight started on a Thursday.

Rain hammered against the apartment windows while Lando paced the kitchen.

“You didn’t even give him a chance.”

Oscar scoffed from the couch. “Please.”

“He was nice.”

“He was boring.”

“Not everyone is going to be as perfect as you, Oscar.”

Oscar stiffened.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Lando spat out, trying to save himself.

“Then how did you?”

Lando opened his mouth. Nothing came out. Because he did know, and he sure as hell wasn’t telling Oscar what he meant.

Oscar knew that the reason they were arguing right now was his fault. All of their arguments lately had been. They rarely argued. Oscar didn’t know what was wrong with him. Or maybe he did…

Every time Lando smiled at someone else, something ugly curled beneath Oscar’s ribs. Every time a date went well, he felt irrationally furious.

He’d spent weeks trying to explain it away. Protectiveness. Finding a perfect match. Stress.

Anything except the truth that was beginning to claw at the edges of his mind.

“You’re impossible lately,” Lando said quietly.

Oscar laughed once without humor. “You think this is easy for me?”

“I didn’t ask you to control my life.”

“You literally did.”

“Not like this.”

Silence.

Lando rubbed a hand over his face. “What going on Osc?” he asked softly.

The question hit harder than yelling would’ve. Oscar’s throat tightened painfully. he didn’t know how to answer it. What was going on? What happened to him?

When had Lando’s laugh started feeling warm? When had casual touches become unbearable? When had every future Oscar imagined somehow started including him automatically?

“I think,” Oscar said slowly, “you just like people who need fixing.” Regret burrowed itself into Oscar’s chest. But it was too late.

Lando went still.

“Now you’re just being cruel,” Lando said quietly.

Oscar looked away. He didn’t want to see the look on Lando’s face. Couldn’t face what he had done.

Lando grabbed his jacket. “Forget it, talk to me when you’re done being a dick.”

The door slammed behind him. Oscar stood alone in the silence afterward, feeling something crack open inside his chest. 

>>>>>>

The girl’s name was Mya.

Oscar met her two weeks later, after Alex aggressively informed him he needed to “touch grass and stop sulking, talk to someone, get out there, maybe call his best friend and apologize.”

“I’m not sulking.”

“You practically looked homicidal when you saw Lando get his morning coffee with someone else.”

“I just slept badly.”

Mya was kind. Easy to talk to.

Oscar hated that he spent most of dinner wondering whether Lando was still going on dates. Pathetic. Completely pathetic.

Halfway through the meal, Oscar looked up toward the restaurant entrance automatically. It was intuition; Oscar's eyes found Lando immediately.

Sitting three tables away with another man. Laughing politely. Not genuine at all. Oscar knew the difference instantly. His stomach twisted anyway.

Mya followed his gaze. “Oh,” she said softly.

Oscar swallowed hard, focusing his attention back on her.

“You love him.” She stated, not a question.

Oscar nearly choked on water. “What?”

She looked deeply unsurprised by his reaction. “You have a look of longing.”

“I have a what?” Oscar couldn’t believe this was happening right now.

“Oh, you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m guessing.”

Oscar stared at the table. The restaurant suddenly felt suffocating. Across the room, Lando smiled at something his date said.

Mya leaned back in her chair. “So,” she said carefully, “are we pretending this isn’t happening or—”

“I’m straight.”

She blinked once. Then, gently: “Okay.”

The thing about kindness was that it somehow made Oscar feel worse.

Because she wasn’t mocking him. She wasn’t shocked. She was just letting him sit with that statement. Oscar pressed his head into his hands, elbows on the table, manners be damned.

“Oh my God.” There it was. The horrifying truth he’d spent months running from. Not just attraction. Not confusion. Love. He was in love with his best friend.

Every memory rearranged itself instantly.

Every jealous reaction.

Every irrational burst of anger.

Every moment that he had prioritized Lando without thinking.

His entire life suddenly made terrifying sense.

Across the restaurant, Lando’s date excused himself toward the bathroom.

Oscar stared for a second.

Then stood abruptly.

“Oscar?”

“I’ll be right back.”

>>>

Lando’s date nearly walked directly into him outside the restroom.

“Oh— sorry,” the guy said.

Oscar shoved his hands into his pockets before he did something even more insane. “You should leave.”

The man blinked. “What?”

“You’re wasting your time.”

“That’s… weird, this is weird.”

Oscar laughed once hollowly. “Yeah. Sorry.”

The guy studied him carefully. Then realization slowly crossed his face. “Oh.”

Oscar looked away. To his credit, the guy only sighed sympathetically.

“Man,” he muttered. “That sucks.”

Then he wished Oscar good luck and just walked out the door. What kind of guy walked out without telling his date? Oscar stood frozen in the hallway for several long seconds before forcing himself back toward the dining room.

He stopped by the register first. “Can I pay for table fourteen?”

The waitress smiled. “Of course.”

Oscar handed over his card. He didn’t look at Lando again before returning to his own table.

Mya watched him sit down.

“You sneak, why don’t you just go talk to him instead of scaring off his date?”

Oscar stared at the candle between them.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You are painfully in love with that man.”

Oscar laughed weakly into his hands. “I know that now.”

>>>>>>

Three days later, Lando ran into Mya outside the library. She smiled knowingly the second she saw him.

“How’s Oscar?” she asked.

Lando blinked. “You know Oscar?” It was pretty rare that someone knew Oscar and not him. Well, she knew him, but he didn’t know her.

“I went on a date with him a few days ago.”

Something unpleasant twisted in Lando’s stomach. “Oh.”

Mia studied him for a long moment before laughing softly under her breath. 

“What’s so funny?”

“You two are idiots.”

Lando frowned. “Excuse me?”

She shook her head. “Your date never came back the other night, did he?”

Lando stared. “How did you—”

“Oscar told him to leave.”

Lando’s mouth fell open.

“Yeah, we were a few tables over, and Oscar saw you two together. He looked seconds away from having an emotional breakdown.”

Lando felt suddenly unsteady.

“He paid for your meal too.” Mya continued.

Everything inside Lando went quiet. The restaurant. The missing date. The check already paid.

Lando’s chest tightened painfully.

“He did?”

Mya softened slightly.

“I’m assuming he still hasn’t talked to you,” she questioned. Lando didn’t hear; he was moving before he could think better of it.

>>>>>>>>

Oscar opened his apartment door wearing sweatpants and an expression of immediate alarm.

“Lando?”

“You paid for my dinner?”

Oscar’s face went completely blank.

For one terrible second, neither of them spoke.

Then Oscar exhaled shakily.

“You weren’t supposed to know that.”

“Why would you do that?”vLando stepped inside before Oscar could stop him. 

Oscar laughed nervously.“It seemed rude to let you pay after your date ditched you.”

“How do you know my date ditched me?”

Oscar looked trapped.

Lando’s heartbeat thundered violently. “Tell me the truth.”

Oscar opened his mouth. Closed it. Ran a hand through his hair, which he had been doing nonstop the last few days.

“I had a speech prepared, well, I have been trying to prepare a speech,” he admitted weakly.

Lando blinked.

“What?”

“I rehearsed it like eight hundred times, actually.” Oscar laughed again, panicked now. “And now you’re here, and I can’t remember any of it.”

Lando stared at him helplessly.

Oscar kept rambling.

“I was going to explain everything in a calm and emotionally mature way, which is ironic because I’m clearly having some sort of identity crisis and—”

Lando kissed him.

Oscar went completely still.

For one horrifying second, Lando thought he’d made a catastrophic mistake.

Then Oscar kissed him back.

Hard.

Desperate.

Like he’d been starving.

Lando’s hands found his waist automatically while Oscar grabbed fistfuls of his shirt like he was afraid this wasn’t real.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them looked stunned.

Oscar’s face immediately flushed bright red.

“Oh my God,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to ughhh. I had a whole speech prepared, and now I’ve completely ruined it, and this is probably concerning and—”

Lando kissed him again.

Softer this time.

Oscar made a helpless sound against his mouth.

When Lando pulled back, he rested his forehead against Oscar’s.

“You talk too much when you’re nervous,” he murmured.

Oscar looked wrecked. “I think I’m in love with you.”

Lando laughed breathlessly. “You think?”

Oscar groaned, covering his face. “This is new for me.”

“I know,” Lando said softly, pulling his hands away. “I’ve got you.”

Oscar stared at him carefully.

“You knew?”

“I’ve been in love with you probably since freshman year.”

Oscar’s eyes widened in genuine horror.

“You were wearing that awful beige hoodie.” Lando huffed out.

“It was comfortable.”

“It was ugly.”

“You still fell in love with me.”

Lando smiled helplessly.

“Yeah. Unfortunately.”

Oscar kissed him this time.

Slow.

Certain.

When they finally separated, Oscar laughed shakily against his shoulder.

“I genuinely thought I was losing my mind.”

“You kind of were.” Lando teased him.

“I deserved that.” Oscar laughed

Silence settled between them comfortably.

For the first time in weeks, Oscar felt like he could finally breathe.

Lando traced absent patterns against his wrist.

“So,” Lando said eventually, “does this mean I can stop going on terrible dates?”

Oscar snorted. “God, please.”

Lando smiled softly: “You know you were always the one I wanted, right?”

Oscar looked at him for a long moment, studying his features in a new light.

Then kissed him again just because he could.