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College is over. Lando tries not to think about that fact. However, it means, for the lucky few who got places outside of campus, packing season. Moving to whatever home awaited next, and moving away from whomever they were leaving behind.
“Lando–”
Lando takes Oscar’s hand and shakes it violently. Oscar laughs as he shakes his hand back with the same rough tenacity. Tired eyes, half-open, continued to stare at Lando for a beat.
“Couldn’t miss this for the world, Osc’,” Lando says smoothly, shooting a playful wink.
Boxes are already lined up by the wall, all open. Most are empty. “I’ll take care of the stuff in the living room; you mind taking the attic?”
“Banishing me to the attic, huh.” He struts over to the boxes, promptly picking one up. He weighs it in his hands, smiling whilst turning around to meet Oscar’s unamused expression. “I see how it is, left with no choice but to hang out with the spiders.”
Oscar stares blankly. “If you want to deconstruct a couch and unmount a TV, be my guest.”
The TV leans slightly, midway through unmounting, with wires and HDMI cables sticking out of its side. Similarly, the couch is separated into two blocks. Its pillows are scattered across the wooden floor, picking up the dust littering it from hours of packing.
“Fine, spiders it is. Knock yourself out there!” Lando adds with a fake cheer in his voice. Oscar rolls his eyes, walking back to the television. But the edge of his lip tilts upwards to a degree.
So Lando grins as he carries the box to the attic. As much as Lando hates to be spending these last moments with Oscar up in the attic, at least they are in the same vicinity.
The attic itself is, luckily, devoid of spiders. He puts his phone down, leaning against a wooden beam after putting on an old Formula One race from the 2025 season for white noise. The floor was littered with items, especially beside the cabinets whose drawers were hanging open–empty.
“You make my life too easy,” Lando mutters as he brings himself to the first cabinet.
A random toy truck, a long-dead iPhone two, and clothing that looks like it hasn’t seen daylight in two decades all go into the cardboard box. The race is down by twenty laps by the time Lando has to make the decision on whether or not he goes down to get a new box or try and stuff in as many objects as possible.
There’s still a bit of room, Lando tells himself. A tiny sliver of untouched cardboard. He picks up a white bishop and plops it into the box. The next item is a simple-looking sketchbook. Lando tilts his head to the book, taking it up to his hands. He checks the side of the book for Oscar’s initials.
OP
“Huh,” Lando whispers, hesitating with his finger pressed against the first page. The man glances at the edge of the page, then glances around the attic. He caves and flips through the first page of the sketchbook.
A detailed drawing of … their college campus? Lead smudged against the thick, high-quality paper. He feels it in his hands–the real stuff. The kind an art student would use. Lando’s eyes widen as he continues to flip through pages of background scenery and the occasional figure drawing.
He pauses, putting down the book to look at a quick drawing of a classmate sitting at their desk, leaning against his arm.
He presses his lips together tightly, swatting his own hand reaching towards the sketchbook. Again, Lando caves and continues on his flipping spree. Shadows so realistic it makes every tree look real, despite being made of only pencil. Lando can’t stop turning the pages, imagery one after another.
Until color hits. Lando’s heart stops, the sketchbook nearly falling from his hand. A smooth tan, ebony black, and a dull green–a person takes shape. Behind him, a picnic basket and the sun setting from the corner of the page, all atop a hill. Their hill.
He blinks and stares at the man in the drawing- at his mole, the one just below his eye. Oscar caught it.
Lando traces his finger over the mole, moving it to the next page. A new wave of uncertainty washes over him–almost fear.
The next page is another drawing, in color, of the same curly-haired man this time staring out at the hill behind them. Color fills the page, along with the next one. And the one after that. It only stops between another landscape drawing of their campus, before returning in a quick illustration of the man at a computer in their school library. It’s rushed, but it carries all the same.
Lando nearly chokes upon noticing a tiny red shape at the bottom corner. The only part of the image not perfectly curated.
A messy, one-stroke red heart.
–
“Oscar, I need you not to panic for me,” Lando says slowly, hiding the sketchbook in the box he carries down the ladder with him.
“Did you break something?” Oscar replies, unbothered. He is busy pushing the wrapped television into a box that will be able to fit it, not yet looking at Lando.
“No–I need you to look at me, Osc’.”
Oscar turns around, growing noticeably more tense. “Is there something wrong up in the attic?”
“Nothing’s wrong with the attic… Nothing’s wrong at all.”
Oscar looks unconvinced, putting a box down. “Wow, reassuring.”
“... Can you be honest with me about something for a second? I promise I’m not mad or anything,” he adds, with a weak smile.
“Sure?” Oscar sits down on the couch, looking up at Lando. He knows Oscar is worried and trying to hide it. All Lando can hope for is that the man won’t sprint halfway through his sentence.
“You are my closest mate, Oscar, just to make that clear.”
“And?” Oscar tilts his head at him.
“I know you see me as your closest friend too, but is it possible that youseemeassomethingmore?” his voice goes high-pitched at the end, sounding more like a rushed blurb than coherent words.
“What?”
“Do you like me, Oscar?” Lando says, bluntly.
Oscar completely freezes. Lando anticipated it, already gradually walking towards an empty spot beside him.
“Excuse me?” Oscar manages. His breath is staggered; he isn’t even looking at Lando anymore. “What, no?” Oscar says hurriedly. “What are you talking about–what–why would you say that…?”
Lando pulls out the sketchbook from the box. He hears a quiet curse from Oscar as he flips to the page Lando had been stuck staring at for ten minutes.
“Shit, I shouldn’t have left that there–” Oscar reaches to take the sketchbook, wincing at the red heart glaring back at him. Lando pulls it away, still positioning the page just open enough for the man to see.
“No, you should’ve.” Lando corrects. “Were you really just going to not tell me for–like–ever?”
Oscar doesn’t say anything for a beat, just staring at the book with an expression of quiet horror.
“What do you want me to say?” Oscar finally says, defeated.
“Yes, no? Just… I don’t know,” Lando admits, shutting the sketchbook in his hands.
“If you want to stop being friends I understand, Lando. I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable.” Oscar sighs. He takes the sketchbook from Lando with little force this time, and clutches it tightly. “It’s really fine if you want to stop.”
“Are you kidding?” Lando scoffs, scootching closer to Oscasr. He shoots the man with an incredulous look, smiling at him genuinely. “If you’re willing to throw away um… ten years of friendship over a drawing that’s insulting to me too, mate. No, we’re not stopping as friends.”
Oscar makes an ‘O’ sound as he stares down at the floor.
“Do you want to try?”
“Huh?”
“If you feel comfortable?”
Oscar furrows his eyebrows in on his eyes. “But you don’t even like–”
Lando lets out a short laugh. “Who says I don’t like guys?”
“Oh.”
“Thought it was pretty obvious by now, you know, with Carlos coming over.”
Oscar stares at Lando–looking as if his brain is short-circuiting. Eventually, emotion flashes across his face in the form of pure horror. “So you… and him…?”
“We’re adults, Oscar; you can say we fucked.”
“Ah, right.”
Oscar turns his gaze away from Lando, face looking almost guilty.
“I’m sorry, Lando, but I can’t.”
The words hit Lando like a freight train. He expected either answer, although one significantly outweighed the other. “Wait, what do you mean?”
“I mean I’m moving across the country, Lando. Be realistic about it.”
“Do you want to date? We can do long distance or anything really just–”
Oscar cuts him off, rubbing the side of his arm with his hand. “I–don’t know,”
“What do you mean you don’t know?” Lando asks, genuinely confused.
“I like you, Lando. Jesus Christ, I like you, okay? I just don’t think this can work. Realistically.”
Before Lando can respond, Oscar stands up abruptly.
“I can take care of the rest of the packing; you can leave, Lando.”
Lando doesn’t know what to think; everything is moving too fast. Did he say something wrong? Was the surprise of him knowing too much?
“You should leave, Lando.”
“Oscar, I don’t care if you don’t want to date; I don’t want to lose you as a friend,” Lando says, standing up to meet Oscar. He tugs at the man’s shoulder, only to be met with a gentle tug from Oscar’s hand pulling Lando away.
“I don’t either,” Oscar says quietly, meeting Lando’s eyes with a small smile.
~~
Lando stands at the doorway, hand shoved into his pocket and fingers gripping firmly at his phone. “Still talk to me, okay?” he says, finally, looking up at Oscar. “Again, I really don’t want to lose you, mate.”
Oscar doesn’t look at him, turning back into his house while cupping his hand around his face. “Bye, Lan.”