He's angry. No. He's livid. He just got the race stolen from his own hands and it's unfair. He had a fourteen second advantage and just for a little rain he lost it, and then the penalty... He wants to rip his own skin off. His anger itches him all over his body from the inside and there's nothing he can do about it but smile and pretend to be content for the team.
God. He looked so happy, brilliant, shining on top of the podium after fulfilling a dream Oscar had been hearing about for years, since they first became teammates (and probably before that, when Oscar was a helpless skinny twig with a silly crush on a boy across the world and he obsessively read every news he could find about him).
But not even Lando's sunshine was enough to lighten up his dark mood. He couldn't even bother to spray him with champagne, and now, finally with a few minutes alone for himself inside his dressing room, Oscar feels the regret creeping in, and it somehow makes him even angrier. Did he ruin it for Lando, too? Couldn't he fucking smile for him, after everything? How shitty of a boyfriend was he really?
Oscar hears a commotion outside of his dressing room that distracts him from his self loathing. And it's a distraction because the voices aren't happy, but concerned. He furrows his eyebrows and quickly stands up, forgetting about wanting to be alone and instead feeling a weird sense of dread, like something isn't right, like Lando is not alright.
He's right, of course he is. Lando is walking towards him with his hand covering his face which is scrunched up in pain and there's blood pouring between his fingers. A thousand different scenarios go through his head in a second: did an angry fan punch him or threw a bottle at him? did he pass out from exhaustion and fall on his face? or was his nose bleeding from the inside? Oscar ran towards him, the race already forgotten, any anger he had replaced with worry and the need to know how Lando was.
"What happened?!" he asks at the dozens of people surrounding his boyfriend, flocking around him like crazy, no one being able to tell him anything coherent.
It was an accident. Someone fell on him. He got hit by a camera lens. Three people say at the same time. Oscar is still confused, but just a bit calmer, now that he knows it wasn't a fan (Oscar wasn't sure what he would do if it was. Much less, one of his own. Just the thought of it somehow being his fault...).
Lando walks to the infirmary. McLaren's nurse receives him and makes him sit on the stretcher. Everyone gets left out except for Oscar. He stands next to Lando, watching closely as she begins working. She cleans the blood around the wound, and he can finally see the damage. There's a thin cut between Lando's eyebrows and another one, smaller, right above it. The cut isn't deep but it's bleeding a lot, pouring red down Lando's perfect nose.
"I don't know, man. Some dude fell on me and to avoid him I got hit by someone else's camera."
So it was just a dumb accident. Oscar feels like he can finally breathe.
Their nurse works quickly and efficiently. Sooner than later, she's cleaning up and leaving the room to give them privacy.
Silence falls between them. Oscar sits next to Lando. He places a hand softly on Lando's cheek and guides his face towards him. Lando doesn't meet his eyes.
"How are you doing?" he asks softly, and Oscar suddenly feels like the worst person ever. His boyfriend almost got his nose broken in half but he's the one asking how Oscar is doing. His boyfriend just won his hometown's GP and he's the one being careful around Oscar, like he's afraid to be happy, and rightfully so, so he doesn't hurt Oscar's feelings.
"I'm sorry." Oscar finally says before closing the distance between their lips. Lando makes a tiny noise in the back of his throat, but immediately relaxes and lets himself be kissed. "I'm so happy for you."
Lando smiles. "It's okay if you're frustrated. I won't take it personally."
Oh this sweet, tender, kind boy, Oscar thinks. Just when Oscar thought he couldn't be more in love with him, his beautiful boyfriend surprises once more. He kisses him again, because there are no words that could describe how he feels after everything they had been through today.
"I'm all better now." Oscar smiles. He can see Lando's shoulders relaxing and they somehow manage to close the distance between them even more. "Does it hurt?"
"Not the cut itself... my nose."
Oscar kisses the tip of his nose. "I hope it doesn't leave a scar."
"I hope it does. Makes me look cooler."
"You're already cool. You just won your home race."
Lando hides his face into Oscar's neck. "I did."
Someone knocks on the door. There's still work to do, pictures to get taken, fans to greet, more champagne to be drunk.
"Shower first?" Lando asks, as if reading his thoughts. "I'm gonna need some help so I don't get this wet."
"Of course you will." Oscar melts at Lando's cheeky smile. Today was not perfect, and there are many things to be forgotten, but Lando's shiny eyes and blinding smile is not one of them, and now that the anger is gone, Oscar can finally drown in it. But not before stealing a couple more kisses before going back out.
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