Chapter Text
Oscar hadn’t told Lando he was going to the police station. He wasn’t sure he could explain why he needed to, only that he did. The betrayal, the anger, the hurt—it was all roiling under his skin, and he couldn’t shake it. Every time he looked at Lando, still shaken but starting to piece himself back together, the emotions surged anew.
He needed closure. He needed Mark to hear him.
The police station was sterile and cold, the air heavy with the scent of disinfectant. Oscar’s footsteps echoed as an officer led him to a private room where Mark was being held for questioning. When the door opened, Mark looked up. He wasn’t cuffed, but the hollow look in his eyes told Oscar he was trapped in other ways.
For a moment, Oscar just stood there, staring. This man had been his manager, his guide, someone he’d trusted implicitly for years. Now, all he saw was someone who had tried to destroy not only Lando but everything Oscar cared about.
Mark broke the silence first. “Oscar,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You’re here. Good.”
Oscar’s jaw clenched. “Don’t,” he said sharply. “Don’t act like this is some kind of meeting. Don’t act like I’m here for you.”
Mark frowned, leaning back in his chair. “You don’t understand—”
“No,” Oscar interrupted, his voice rising. “You don’t understand. You don’t understand what you’ve done. To me. To Lando. To yourself.”
Mark flinched at Lando’s name, but Oscar pressed on, his hands gripping the back of the chair opposite Mark. “You were supposed to support me. To help me build my career. Instead, you used me—manipulated me—for what? Some vendetta against Lando? Some revenge for Multi 21 from years ago? Some sick way to feel powerful again?”
Mark’s face twisted. “I did what I thought was necessary to protect you. He’s a distraction, Oscar. He—”
“Don’t,” Oscar said coldly, his grip tightening on the chair. “Don’t you dare talk about Lando like that. He’s not the problem. You are. You always have been.”
Mark’s mouth opened, but Oscar didn’t let him speak. “You hurt him, Mark. You kidnapped him. Do you even understand what that means? Do you understand how sick that is?”
Mark’s gaze dropped to the table, but Oscar wasn’t finished. “And you used me,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “You made me think you cared, that you were looking out for me. But it was all lies, wasn’t it? You didn’t care about me. You cared about control.”
The room was silent except for the sound of Oscar’s breathing. Mark didn’t look up.
“I fired you,” Oscar said, his tone firm. “The moment I found out what you did to Lando, I fired you. And I’m here now to make sure you understand something else.”
Finally, Mark lifted his gaze, and Oscar saw something flicker in his eyes—defeat, maybe. Regret? He wasn’t sure.
“Lando and I are together,” Oscar said, his voice steady. “We’re a couple. And you know what’s ironic? You’re the reason we finally told each other how we feel. Your horrible, disgusting actions were the catalyst. So congratulations, Mark. You failed at everything you tried to do.”
Mark’s face twisted into something unreadable, but Oscar didn’t care anymore. He straightened, his hands releasing the chair. “I was hurt by what you did,” he said quietly. “I trusted you, and you betrayed me. I don’t know if I’ll ever fully get over that. But I’ll never let you hurt Lando—or me—again.”
Without waiting for a response, Oscar turned and walked out of the room, his heart pounding.
Outside, the cold air hit him, and he took a deep breath. It didn’t fix everything. It didn’t erase the pain or the betrayal. But it felt like a step forward. Like reclaiming a piece of himself Mark had tried to take.
When Oscar walked through the door of Lando’s apartment, he felt a strange mix of exhaustion and clarity. Lando was sitting on the couch, a blanket draped over his shoulders, his expression shifting instantly to concern when he saw Oscar.
“You were gone a while,” Lando said softly, standing up to meet him. “Where did you go?”
Oscar hesitated, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it by the door. “The police station,” he admitted, his voice low but steady.
Lando blinked in surprise, his brows knitting together. “Why?”
Oscar crossed the room, sitting on the couch and gesturing for Lando to join him. When Lando settled beside him, Oscar took a deep breath, lacing their fingers together. “I went to see Mark,” he said.
Lando stiffened, his fingers tightening slightly around Oscar’s. “Why would you…?”
“I needed to,” Oscar interrupted gently. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it—about him. About what he did to you. To us. I needed to face him, to tell him how I felt. To make him understand what he’d done.”
Lando’s face softened, but there was still a flicker of worry in his eyes. “And? Did it help?”
Oscar tilted his head, considering his answer. “I don’t know if ‘help’ is the right word. It didn’t make the hurt go away. But I told him exactly what I thought of him, and I made it clear he’s out of my life for good. I needed him to know he failed. That he didn’t destroy us—he made us stronger.”
Lando looked down at their joined hands, his thumb brushing lightly over Oscar’s knuckles. “You really told him about us?”
Oscar nodded. “I told him we’re together. That we love each other, and nothing he did could take that away.”
Lando’s breath hitched, and he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Oscar’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Oscar lifted his free hand to run it gently through Lando’s hair. “You don’t have to thank me,” he murmured. “I’d do anything for you, Lando.”
For a long moment, they stayed like that, the room quiet except for the sound of their breathing. Finally, Lando pulled back, his eyes glistening but determined.
“I don’t know how you can be so brave,” Lando said softly. “Going to see him… I don’t think I could’ve done it.”
“You don’t have to,” Oscar said firmly. “We’ll get through this together. You and me, okay?”
Lando nodded, his lips quirking into a small, hesitant smile. “Okay.”
Oscar leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Lando’s forehead. “I’ve got you.”
~~~
The days after Oscar’s visit to the police station were quiet but full of moments that felt like small steps forward. Lando and Oscar spent most of their time in Lando’s apartment, cocooned in their own little world. It was a safe space—one where they could breathe, talk, and just be.
One evening, they sat on the balcony, a soft breeze rustling through the trees below. The city lights twinkled in the distance, and the faint hum of cars passing by created a soothing backdrop. Lando had pulled a blanket over both their laps, and Oscar was curled up beside him, his head resting on Lando’s shoulder.
“Do you ever think about the future?” Lando asked, breaking the comfortable silence. His voice was quiet, almost hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to ask the question.
Oscar lifted his head slightly, tilting it to look at Lando. “Of course I do,” he said simply.
“What do you see?” Lando turned his head to meet Oscar’s gaze, his expression soft but curious.
Oscar’s lips curved into a small smile, his eyes thoughtful. “I see racing, obviously. But… I also see a life outside of it. I see a home. A family, maybe. And you.”
Lando’s breath caught for a moment, and he looked away, his cheeks tinged pink. “You see me?”
Oscar reached out, taking Lando’s hand and squeezing it gently. “Yeah, I do. I don’t know what that looks like yet, exactly. But I know I want you to be part of it.”
Lando stared at their joined hands, his thumb brushing lightly over Oscar’s knuckles. “I haven’t really thought about it like that,” he admitted. “I mean, I’ve thought about the next race, the next season. But beyond that? It always felt blurry.”
“Maybe it’s time to start thinking about it,” Oscar said softly. “Not just in terms of racing, but what makes you happy. What you want your life to look like.”
Lando was quiet for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. “I want to feel like myself again,” he said finally. “Like I’m not just holding everything together with duct tape. I want to be able to look at a track and not feel like I’m carrying all this weight.”
“You’ll get there,” Oscar said, his voice steady and reassuring. “It’ll take time, but you’re not alone in it. You’ve got your team, your friends, and,” He paused, his fingers tightening around Lando’s. “You’ve got me.”
Lando turned back to Oscar, his eyes shining with gratitude and something deeper. “I don’t deserve you,” he said quietly.
Oscar frowned, shaking his head. “Don’t say that. You do. You deserve someone who cares about you, who sees how amazing you are.”
Lando felt a lump in his throat, and he swallowed hard, trying to keep his emotions in check. “You’re really good at this, you know?” he said with a small, wobbly smile.
“At what?”
“Making me feel like I’m not completely broken,” Lando admitted.
Oscar smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Lando’s temple. “That’s because you’re not,” he said firmly. “You’re just healing. And healing isn’t linear. It’s messy and hard, but you’re doing it. Bit by bit.”
They sat in silence for a while after that, the weight of the conversation settling between them in a way that felt comforting rather than heavy.
Later that night, as they lay in bed, Lando spoke up again. “Do you ever get scared about what’s next?”
“All the time,” Oscar admitted, turning to face him. “But I think that’s normal. It’s what we do with that fear that matters.”
Lando nodded slowly, his eyes thoughtful. “I think I want to figure out what makes me happy,” he said. “Outside of racing, outside of everything. I don’t know where to start, though.”
“Start small,” Oscar suggested. “What’s one thing you’ve always wanted to do but never had the time for?”
Lando thought for a moment, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to cook,” he said.
Oscar grinned. “Then that’s where we’ll start. We’ll cook together.”
“You’ll regret that when I set the kitchen on fire,” Lando teased, his smile growing wider.
“I’ll take the risk,” Oscar said with a laugh, leaning in to kiss Lando softly.
It was in those small moments—talking about the future, laughing together, sharing quiet touches—that Lando started to feel like himself again. It was a slow process, and there were still days when the weight of what had happened felt overwhelming. But with Oscar by his side, he began to see that there was a path forward, and for the first time in a long time, he felt hopeful.
The day had come. Lando woke up early, the faint light of dawn filtering through the blinds in his apartment. He sat on the edge of his bed for a moment, his heart pounding as if it were the morning of his first ever race. In a way, it was. It wasn’t the start of his career, but it felt like the start of something new—a version of himself that had been rebuilt, piece by piece.
Oscar stirred beside him, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “You okay?” he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.
Lando nodded, his lips curving into a small, nervous smile. “Yeah. Just thinking.”
Oscar shifted closer, resting his hand on Lando’s shoulder. “It’s okay to feel nervous. But you’re ready, Lando. I know you are.”
Lando turned to look at Oscar, his eyes soft. “I wouldn’t have made it here without you.”
Oscar smiled, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Lando’s cheek. “You’re stronger than you think. Today isn’t about anyone else—it’s about you. Just remember that.”
The drive to the track was quiet, the city slowly waking up around them. Lando stared out the window, his mind flickering between memories of the past and the anticipation of what lay ahead. He thought about the days he had spent doubting himself, questioning everything he’d worked for. And then he thought about the moments that had brought him back to life: Oscar’s steady presence, the laughter they shared, the determination that had slowly replaced the fear.
When they arrived at the paddock, it was like stepping into a different world. The hum of activity, the familiar scent of tires and fuel, the sight of his car waiting for him—it was all overwhelming, but in the best way possible.
As they walked through the paddock together, Lando felt the weight of supportive gazes and warm smiles from his fellow drivers. Charles waved at him, grinning. Max gave him a firm nod, a silent show of support. Even drivers he wasn’t particularly close with offered encouraging words as he passed by.
“Good to see you back, mate,” George said, clapping Lando on the shoulder.
“You’ve got this,” Alex added with a thumbs-up.
Lando couldn’t help but smile, his nerves easing just a little with every kind word.
In the McLaren garage, his team welcomed him like he had never been gone. His engineers ran through the car setup with him, their enthusiasm infectious. There was no pressure, no expectation—just a shared excitement to see him back where he belonged.
Oscar stayed close by, watching Lando with a mixture of pride and quiet concern. When it was time for Lando to suit up, Oscar pulled him aside for a moment.
“Hey,” Oscar said softly, his hand brushing against Lando’s. “No matter what happens out there, I’m proud of you. Just remember that, okay?”
Lando nodded, his throat tight with emotion. “Thanks, Osc. For everything.”
As Lando climbed into the car, the familiar sensation of the cockpit wrapping around him brought a wave of calm. This was where he belonged—this was his home. He took a deep breath, his hands gripping the wheel as he closed his eyes for a moment.
“This is for me,” he whispered to himself. “No one else. Just me.”
The race itself wasn’t about proving anything to the world. It was about reclaiming a part of himself that had been lost. Each lap felt like shedding a layer of fear, replacing it with confidence and joy. By the time the checkered flag waved, it didn’t matter where he finished. He had done it. The fact that he was only 5th didn’t matter.
In parc ferme, as soon as Lando stepped out of the car, Oscar pulled him into a tight hug, not caring who was watching.
“You were amazing,” Oscar said, his voice thick with emotion.
Lando laughed, a mix of relief and happiness bubbling out of him. “I actually did it.”
“You did,” Oscar said, pulling back just enough to look Lando in the eye. “And I always knew you could.”
As the celebrations died down and the paddock emptied, Lando and Oscar found themselves alone, sitting on the edge of the McLaren hospitality balcony. The sun was setting, casting the sky in hues of gold and pink, the perfect ending to a day that felt like a new beginning.
Lando leaned back in his chair, staring at the horizon, the soft hum of the track still echoing in the distance. “I didn’t think I’d feel this way again,” he admitted, his voice quiet but steady.
Oscar turned to him, his expression gentle. “How do you feel?”
Lando took a moment to think, a small smile playing on his lips. “Like I’m myself again. Like I can actually breathe.”
Oscar reached out, brushing his fingers against Lando’s. “You’re not just back—you’re stronger. And I’m so proud of you.”
Lando looked at him, his chest tightening with a mix of gratitude and affection. “I couldn’t have done it without you, you know. You’re kind of everything to me.”
Oscar smiled, his cheeks tinting pink as he glanced away briefly, then back at Lando. “Good thing I’m not going anywhere, then.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, their hands entwined, watching as the lights of the city began to twinkle in the distance.
“Ready to head home?” Oscar asked eventually, his voice soft.
Lando nodded, standing and stretching. “Yeah. Home sounds good.”