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It looks like such a small thing.
Lando hears the sudden thud while trying to find the clean team’s kit he’s sure needs to be somewhere inside his bag, followed by a hiss that made him stop and rush to the bathroom to find Oscar holding onto the sink to pull himself up and off the floor.
“Hey, what happened?” he asks, taking only a second to reach for him and help him. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just slipped,” he says, rubbing the side of his hip. “I’m ready to leave a complain, how can we be ambassadors for the hotel when it has danger hazards?”
“No, yeah, they should add another bar here,” he says, glancing at the empty wall there. “Freaking tub is so tall, they should have it.”
And he knows Oscar is joking, they have little to no say in team sponsors and it’s not that Hilton will remodel all their hotels because they say so, but falling is still falling and he can’t help but worry. “Where did you hit yourself? You sure you are okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he says. “My hip saved my head from taking the worst part.”
And he’s not really amused by it but Lando doesn’t care, he drags him back to the room and sits him on the bed to carefully move his still wet hair around to check on his head and make sure there is no injury, only finding a tender part that Oscar argues is normal given he just fell.
And… it makes sense.
It just happened, it will continue hurting for a while, but there is not a visible wound, he’s not bleeding, and he looks fine. He almost stood up on his own, didn’t look weak and even kept his balance when Lando dragged him around.
“We’re skipping movie night, then,” he says after letting out a sigh. “Come on, get dressed and lie down while I take care of everything else.”
Oscar wants to argue, but ultimately, only lets out an endeared chuckle after pulling his towel back up to return to the bathroom to finish getting ready. Lando keeps him from closing the door, joking around it just to keep him from feeling insulted or angry, though, none of that is possible for Oscar when it comes to him.
His teammate is the same as always when they reach the paddock, they record a couple of things, have their normal debrief, with FP1 passing with the usual, Lando securing a P3 while Oscar reaches P2. The car is looking good after the recent updates and they believe it has the potential to finally deliver something good, though, practices have never really been that significant.
Oscar still looks the same when they spend a bit longer before FP2. He only comments his head is still hurting to Artturi offers a pill after forcing him to say what happened and promise he’s letting him know if the pain worsens or he feels anything else. His boyfriend looks mostly exasperated, he’s fine, he didn’t even hit his head against an edge or anything.
FP2 is more of the same, Lando securing P2 while Oscar gets P4. It’s still within the range of things they are expecting to get, so debrief is focused on going for those things they don’t feel comfortable with.
“Feeling any better, darling?”
“Just tired, the usual,” Oscar hums. “Come on, I need to fin da comfortable position to sleep.”
Lando takes a moment to study him, not that he has acted differently this entire time, but he wants to be sure. In the end, he joins and tries to help Oscar find a position where he doesn’t need to put his weight on the still tender area on his head. Maybe he had really been over worrying.
Or that’s what he thinks until they wake up and Oscar’s head still hurts.
He argues the entire time it’s obvious, he knows how incapable he is of keeping himself from moving while sleeping, so his poor head ended up rubbed all over the pillow applying unnecessary pressure on the poor area. Lando still finds nothing abnormal, however, so they’re back in the paddock before he can dwell much more on it.
FP3 further shows there’s something wrong.
Oscar’s pace is gone, the small difference between both has turned into one that has Lando seconds from taking P1 and Oscar barely scrapping P12. There’s no way he makes it to Q3 with those times, but Lando doesn’t care much about it because his mind immediately goes to what happened and that maybe it really affected him.
He jumps out of the car and rushes for Oscar before anyone has the time to argue about something, even before Oscar can fully flee him, and he finds him leaning as discretely as possible against the wall, suit still around his hips. He looks tired, too tired.
“Osc, what happened?”
“No pace, that’s all,” he replies almost immediately, too fast to be reasonable. “Will surely get it together for qualifying.”
“You don’t feel well,” Lando says, it’s not a question. “It’s your head.”
There’s a second where Oscar seems set on denying it, paint it off as nothing, set on waiting for everything to happen before dedicating his full attention to it. “Just a headache, give me a pill.”
Lando is glad Artturi disagree and tries to reason with him, but Oscar doesn’t seem to be wanting to listen, he shakes his head, pushing himself off the wall to start walking out of the garage, apparently set on returning to the motorhome and get that pill before heading for the media pen.
“Stop being so stubborn,” Lando whines. “Come on, better safe than sorry.”
Oscar… doesn’t seem to listen to him. He continues walking, staring ahead, even ignoring a couple of people who have moved closer looking for a second to get a photo or get him to sign their caps and posters. Lando sees them frowning, confused because Oscar never really rejects people and worry seems to pulse stronger.
“Oscar—”
That’s when Oscar suddenly doubles over to throw up.
People scramble out of the way, the attention of everyone is now on Oscar and Lando’s mind reels in pure panic until he manages to reach his side, wrapping an arm over his shoulders, seeing him heaving for air, staring at the mess he just made.
“Darling, what happened, what is it?” He doesn’t get an answer to that either, Oscar is blinking hard, as if trying to understand, trembling arms holding onto his knees to keep himself up. “Oscar, please just…”
Before he can even finish, before his mind registers something outside of the panic, Oscar’s legs give away, the entire strength in his body abandoning him so fast Lando almost lets him fall to the floor entirely, sheer luck the only thing that keeps him from holding him before he hits the floor.
“Oscar!”
Artturi arrives a second later, people from McLaren and even other teams have gathered around to block the view and keep people from getting in the way. Someone calls an ambulance, someone is panicking and asking what happened, but Lando doesn’t even listen.
His eyes are fixed on Oscar’s form, has he looked this pale since this morning? Did he really miss everything that said he’s not doing well? He suddenly can’t remember everything, can’t make sense of what’s going on and can only feel the guilt mixing with the panic that is consuming his entire body as he stares down at his unresponsive boyfriend.
Emergency services are there in no time, Lando is forced to let go so they can work on him and forced to watch them doing everything to confirm he truly is unconscious and there is something very wrong with him before they’re wheeling him away towards the ambulance.
Jon takes him to the hospital while Artturi promises to call Mark and Oscar’s family to inform them of what happened and they don’t find out through social media. Lando knows it should be him, especially Oscar’s family, but he can’t even think about it, his mind is this thing filled with Oscar’s name and nothing else.
“Did something happen? He didn’t look that sick this morning.”
“He fell yesterday, but he looked fine, I checked, there was no blood or anything,” Lando says, hands pressed against his face. “He didn’t hit an edge or somethin’ like that, he… he was fine!”
Jon’s arms wrap around his shoulders, he says something Lando’s mind doesn’t really register and can’t even bring himself to feel bad for.
The only thing they have been told is that Oscar was rushed to emergency surgery, that they will get an update as soon as they’re done and they just need to wait, but Lando isn’t sure how he can survive it. He is still wearing the damn orange suit around his hips while sitting there and can be damn sure some people are glancing his way, but he’s at least glad no one has tried to approach him.
Won’t be nice to scream in someone’s face they need to fuck off.
“The hit caused a subdural hematoma, the surgery was needed to drain the blood and avoid permanent damage.”
Lando’s legs tremble, Jon holding him is the only reason why he doesn’t fall to the floor. “But he was… he looked fine.”
“There’s always a chance of this happening when there is a head injury,” he says, doesn’t make Lando feel any better. “The symptoms take time to appear, the damage isn’t evident until that moment.”
“Then, he’s going to be alright?”
“Until we can run all the tests when he wakes up, we can’t be for sure.” Lando really is going to die. “But he received help right on time, the surgery went well and we will keep him under careful observation.”
They allow him inside the room for a couple of minutes and the wrongness of it keeps him standing by the door instead of walking further in. Oscar is on the bed, cables connected to patches on his chest and head, tubes to the IV, to the ventilator and one that sticks out beneath the bandage around his head and connects with a bag he prefers not to look too much at. It’s a titanic effort to reach the side of the bed and even more to reach for him, his hand setting on his cheek to caress it until he brushes the tape holding the tube in his mouth and he jerks back, scared of causing any kind of damage.
He doesn’t know what to say.
There are a lot of things going on inside of him moving so violently he feels sick. Beyond the fear and pain of seeing him like this, he can only think how wrong all of it is and how ridiculous it is to be in this when all was normal mere hours ago.
He goes back to qualifying just because he can’t stay in the room all the time and because they’re keeping him sedated until his body heals a bit more, if he stays in the hospital he will spend it at the waiting area where he can’t do anything about it, so Artturi promises to let him know if something happens and wishes him good.
By now, social media is burning with a million things. The, at first, out-of-context video of Oscar throwing up and passing out has gone viral, with people arguing about it, from some saying he got sick to some even suggesting he was drunk or drugged. McLaren has already released an official statement leaving clear Oscar current condition has nothing to do with substances or any other ill-intentioned assumption and was instead caused by an incident that isn’t related to the race.
Lando doesn’t make it past Q2. P11 and P14.
He wants to get angry at himself, wants to beat himself over it because when Oscar comes back, because he will, he will be disappointed, but he simply couldn’t.
The team doesn’t really blame him, they understand, some fans argue he shouldn’t have competed at all, but he doesn’t listen to any of it. He returns to the hotel where he tries his best to not spend the entire time crying on the floor to at least clean himself and return to the hospital without looking so pathetic.
He’s allowed for a couple of minutes again but he still doesn’t know what to say.
He caresses Oscar’s arm and hand as lovingly and carefully as he can, accommodates the thin blanket over his body so he doesn’t get too cold and returns to standing next to the bed to look at him. Nothing has really changed, he’s still pale and sick-looking, with all the machines that send the same signal that tells him everything is wrong.
Nicole calls when he’s outside trying to drink the coffee he still hates but was told to drink and he couldn’t bring himself to say no. Lando explains everything that happened, how he looked for more damage but failed to find it until it was too late.
“It wasn’t your fault, Lando.”
It’s impossible to agree, to be honest. Everything points at this being a stupid, horrible incident that couldn’t be avoided, it was an accident that happened when Oscar slipped after coming out of the shower, but Lando still feels responsible. He could have dragged Oscar to the hospital to be really sure that he was fine, he’s not a doctor, so why did he believe it was fine?
Next day he leaves knowing he will return a bit after they have removed the sedation. They claim it doesn’t mean Oscar will wake up immediately and will be capable of seeing him talking and everything, but he still likes the idea of seeing him more like the lovable human he is instead of the still form he has been this entire time.
The race, is, of course, catastrophic.
A bad start that costs him four places, barely avoiding a collision with various cars and a race pace that reminds him of his bad karting days. Finishing in the same position he started feels like a miracle, but he can’t really think much about it. The rest of the world around him doesn’t seem to exist as he returns to get his phone to see if Arturri has said something that takes a bit of weight he’s carrying, but there’s nothing.
“Brain injuries take a huge toll on the body, he needs time.”
It still makes all the sense in the world, what does he knows, but it doesn’t really changes many things. His afternoons go to sitting next to the bed, holding Oscar’s hand, making sure the thin blanket covers him and removing the remnant of glue left on the back of his hand when they changed the dressing for the IV.
He sees them removing the tube from his head at one point, a couple of days later the one down his throat because, he can breath on his own, that’s progress, but Lando’s only victory so far outside of it is seeing his fingers barely twitching. Oscar remains unresponsive in the sense that he doesn’t wake up, his body does respond to the little tests they perform to check reflexes and all, but beyond that, nothing.
Lando still finds nothing to fucking say.
It’s a goddamn horrible routine at this point to sit for as long as he can next to him making sure he’s comfortable and walking out to pace around the hospital like a ghost haunting it up until he’s allowed back inside. He knows how the machines work, what each noise means, he has learnt how to read the lines the machine that shows his brain activity works and at one point, has also learnt how to help the nurses to move Oscar’s limbs around so he doesn’t get too sore.
It always surprises him to find he still has tears left, he feels he has been crying the entire time and he doesn’t even know how long it has been.
“I fucking miss you,” he whispers, making a face at how stupid it sounds. “They say you can hear, then hear that I miss you so much it’s driving me insane.”
They’re the first words he’s saying directly to him and he feels horrible for not finding something better, but Oscar always liked honesty and he has never been more honest.
“I feel responsible and stupid for feeling like that because this fucking accident was just that,” he continues with a sniffle. “I just want you again, so please… just come back to me.”
It’s not a magical solution, of course.
Lando once more stares at the machines moving and beeping and looks at the nurse as he checks on him and gives his back a reassuring pat that hasn’t been effective anymore.
“Artturi is making you train for days to make up for all of this,” he says while carefully flexing his arm up. “Like, you’re using all the machines in the gym want it or not.”
At times it feels dumb to have these small conversations, maybe he’s making Oscar’ head hurt more with them, but he already started, he can’t bring himself to shut up again. The silence it’s too torturous and he will really lose his mind if he doesn’t do it.
“Two times,” he continues, massaging his elbow. “Maybe more.”
One of the machines replies with another beep, Lando glances at it before looking back down to continue, trying not to remember how Oscar has always liked to run his fingers through his curls in a completely absent-minded way and worse, how much he misses that touch.
The sudden intake of breath has him looking at his face, halting all his movements. It’s, again, not the first time there is some kind of change, but it could happen a thousand times and he would still feel close to exploding because of it.
“Darling?” he asks, lacing his fingers with Oscar to hold his hand more securely. “You with me?”
Oscar makes another noise, it reminds Lando of those instances when breathing stops being something the body just does automatically and shifts into something he has to do manually, so he stares down at him, feeling his heart ready to jump out of his chest.
That’s when Oscar’s eyes open.
They struggle to do so and when it happens, they come all unfocused, the normal light not there, but it’s the first time Lando can clearly see that beautiful colour and he’s about to cry.
He calls the doctors when Oscar lets out a pained noise, but refuses to at first let go of him and then step too far away from the bed. His eyes are really stinging as he sees Oscar’s consciousness coming back slowly, with pure stress at first, but then with confusion and anxiety the doctor helps him to push it down.
“You’re safe, he has been here with you the entire time.”
Lando does start crying when Oscar’s eyes fall on him. He does manage to not become a full sobbing mess, hurrying to compose himself and reach for his hand again.
“Lando…?”
“Yes, it’s me, I’m here,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to his hand. “You’re alright, everything is going to be alright now.”
They don’t stress him beyond checking the basic reflexes and at least a few of their main worries regarding the possible neurological damage. Oscar is still not doing well, stressing him won’t do any kind of good.
“You’re crying…” Oscar whispers, he still has his eyes closed.
“I have the right, yeah?” he says, but still tries to clean some of the tears. “I have been living a nightmare.”
Oscar winces, he still looks so weak, close to passing out once more and Lando’s heart can only deal with so much.
“Sorry,” he says. “Even when I… I’m not sure what happened.”
“That fall wasn’t as harmless as we thought,” he says. “Brought a lot of complications, but don’t think about it.”
“I do remember falling and, the practices, I think? But not much beyond that.”
Memory loss is one of the consequences, they can return at one point or can vanish entirely, but Lando wishes he didn’t need to suffer so much because of it.
“It’s okay, you need to rest,” he says with a faint shake of his head. “We’re going to need a lot of time.”
Oscar lets out a shaky breath, eyes closing in pure exhaustion. “Yeah, just a bit.”
Lando nods with a small smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek, feeling the warmth of it and hearing the hum of content Oscar lets out at it. His heart seems to beat again.
“Just… Just come back to me when you have enough, yeah?”