LIGHTS OUT! @racingrich - Tumblr Blog

hi !! you came across my feed and i really love the way you write. 🥹 i loved the ‘empty space and a formless shape’ fanfic and it was so sweet!!

can i request an oscar piastri one where he pretends to be oblivious about the way the reader is acting around him? he has gut feelings what the reader is up to but is afraid to conclude anything, and is because he is trying to focus on his f1 career. more like slowburn! the rest is up to you. :)) thank you so much! <3

only a fool would say that 🏁 op81

summary: oscar tried not to notice the way you always looked for him first in any room, or the way you always brought him an energy drink on race day, knowing the flavours he liked and the temperature the can had to be. he tried not think about the way your world had slowly started to become his. he had to keep his eyes forward on the goal, on the world title. you were just being friendly, just being you. it wasn't anything more than that. it couldn't be. but when you start to pull away, letting him focus on the prize, oscar starts slipping. his grip on the world title, and on you, start to slip. and there's only one way it can be saved: listening to his damn gut.

thank you so much for your request omg, i love this idea! and you're too sweet, i'm so grateful that you enjoy my writing <3 i hope you enjoy this! major you fell first, he fell harder vibes bc i'm a sucker for it

Oscar had a way of taking up space. Not in the loud way, where he commanded attention, but in a gentle way. The way he held himself with confidence, how he gave smiles at the right times. You were five when you first started noticing it. Not an earth-shattering way of noticing. Just, knowing that you always knew whenever he’d entered a room. Because the air seemed to shift as he forced himself to your side, making space for himself in your world.

Oscar wasn't sure when he noticed that change in you. It could've been last week, or three years, or maybe it was something he'd always seen. But, you were different. Not in a bad way, in a softer way. While in many ways, the important ones, your bond hadn't changed. Not since you were fifteen and pretending that calling in the moments of silence was enough, not since you'd forgotten how it felt to be without him. But, he could see cracks. He'd started noticing them properly, with purpose, in his first F1 season. When you'd come with him from city to city, taking your work with you, sinking your claws into McLaren racing, just as he had. You started as a guest, then you became something with a heartbeat, something valuable. You'd risen through the ranks, from intern to engineer. You'd done it yourself, with blood, sweat, and tears. This season, you'd be debuting as his principal engineer, the voice in his ear, the one who helped him soar to new heights. And he couldn't be happier.

"I'm glad you chose me," he'd told you as you both drove to the MTC on a Tuesday, inconspicuous in its importance. "That you're sticking with me." You'd looked at him then, and for some reason, Oscar saw something. A shimmer in your eyes, a pull in your lips. It sunk into him with a weight he'd never anticipated. He couldn't breathe. had you always looked at him like that?

"Like I'd go anywhere else," you'd snorted, the same tone you always had. A little sarcastic, but never enough to hurt. "You're stuck with me, Osc." He found himself smiling, because how could he not?

"As if that's a punishment." He meant it, back then and now, walking into the first race of the 2025 season. It startled him, how much those words still rang true two years later. You'd established yourself as his person, the one who guided him out of the darkest moments of his two seasons. The one who pushed him ahead. The one who would help him win. If it could be anyone, he knew he wanted it to be you.

The heat was brutal as he tested. Australia was coming up. First race, his home race. The first stint of the year, where he'd prove himself, or die trying. He knew that you knew how important this race was for him, for both of you. On your home turf again, trying to carve your names into the stars.

"How we looking?" He spoke into his radio. He heard movement in his ear, you struggling to get back to your radio.

"Yeah, fine, holding up well," you sputtered. He could hear the food in your mouth. "Jesus, you're like a waitress with how terrible your timing is. I mean, c'mon, I just started eating," you complained. Oscar found himself chuckling.

"I live to inconvenience you," he replied. You snorted into your sandwich, the one you'd spent ten minutes telling him about on the drive from the hotel to the track.

"And every day, I get closer to poisoning your food."

"I figured I'd graduated from poison by now."

"Dropping a piano on you is too complicated. Too many unknown variables," you carried on as he shot around a corner. "Like, what if I hit Lando?"

"Oh, that would be such a travesty, wouldn't it?"

"Oh, the worst! Young women all over the world would be out for my blood." Oscar snorted as he pushed into the straight. He knew long talks over the radio weren't recommended, as in no one else did them, except Charles o a bad day, which seemed to be happening more often than not these days, but he could never resist some banter.

"You're losing time going into this corner," you relayed to him. "You go too wide, tighten it up." He nodded, even though you couldn't see it. he tightened, as close to the inside as he was allowed. You went silent as you worked away with calculations and his past sector data.

"Purple," you reported. Oscar smiled and pressed out of the corner like a man possessed. "You're beating Lando's times," you spoke.

"Really? By how much?"

"Two tenths." Enough to win a race, to win everything. The results he'd trained for, worked his ass off for. The ones he promised you he'd deliver. "Hit another few laps, then pull in so we can adjust some things." Oscar gave the affirmative as he let the sounds of the world fade into something small and containable. Nothing outside the cockpit mattered right now, not when he was driving, not when he felt like he could blast off into space. The team built a rocket ship this year. You'd helped, offering advice and ways to tailor the car to suit your driver, to make him fly. And flying he was.

"Can I have AUX on the way back?" Oscar asked.

"Why?" You replied. You'd started listening to more love songs, songs that meant something. He'd pretended not to notice, ignoring the sirens going off in his mind. You'd never preferred songs about caring for someone more than words can express, but you'd changed. Subtle enough on its own, something he wouldn't have noticed if he didn't know you like the back of his hand.

"Because you hog it," he bit back. That was a safe answer. He couldn't resort to the truth, not now.

"Lies and slander," you shot back. "You drive, I pick songs, that's how it works."

"Then you can drive."

"You hate my music that much?" It was meant to be a joke, but it hit him like a train anyway. "Fine, you can have AUX, but I'm driving, and we're getting smoothies."

"Acceptable trade," Oscar relented.

"And if you play Calvin Harris I'm jumping into oncoming traffic," you added, to show that you weren't hurting, not really. But he felt like he'd hurt you anyway.

"What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing, I just want some variety from you, Mr. I listen to one genre only." Oscar snorted as he finished his final testing lap and diverted into the pit lane, where you'd be waiting with a water bottle and a smile for him, and he'd have to pretend that things between you weren't changing. That the world wasn't fragmenting into something unrecognizable. Something he refused to name.

When he got back to the hotel, you were sitting outside his room, legs crossed, a book in your hand. Your McLaren pajamas stuck out in the hall of white. You looked up as he approached. He'd lost it, lost grip of everything. The lead, points, the glory. He'd spun out, barely saving his race, barely saving himself. He'd been holding back tears since the race ended. Seeing his teammate on the podium while he barely clawed in a single point was hard. Seeing the pity-filled smiles from the rest of the world when he stepped out of the garage was so much worse. They didn't believe he could do it. he wasn't Lando, he was still a rookie, in his third season. he hadn't achieved glory yet, not the way the others had. So, it didn't matter to the world that he'd lost everything, because he never had it to begin with.

"I brought you something," you spoke as you got to your feet. Oscar looked at the Tim Tams you'd brought with you with wide eyes.

"When did you get time to get those?"

"Just now. The guy behind the counter didn't blink at my pajamas," you explained as Oscar unlocked his hotel room door, letting you in. You ignored the mess, the one you'd come to expect from him, and plopped into the bed that he'd obviously slept in. Covers thrown every which way, his pajamas folded at the foot of his bed. The one organized thing in this whole room. he followed after you, collapsing on his side, sweat-soaked and all. You didn't judge, just picked your book up and kept reading.

"You should shower, you smell awful."

"No sense of empathy?" You looked over at him. Your eyes were different. A kind of different Oscar recognized. The one he'd seen in his sisters, when they spoke of people in their classes they thought were cute.

An admiring look. Something inside him squirmed.

"Fine, since you're ashamed of the way I stink."

"Very ashamed," you called back as you turned back to your book, leaving him to shower. He didn't rush, because he knew you didn't care. You weren't here for him, specifically, just here for the proximity to someone familiar, someone you couldn't miss. He let the water work its magic, lazily washing his hair.

Silence from inside the room. He didn't mind. Oscar figured he wouldn't be good company anyway. You'd watch some shitty TV, then leave him to sleep this feeling off. Meet up tomorrow, and move towards something better. Get better, keep moving forward. But for today, you'd let him wallow in what could've been.

He changed into his pajamas, stared at his reflection.

What did you see when you looked at him?

Somehow, he knew the answer. One he'd think about tomorrow.

"Clean?" You asked as he surfaced from the bathroom. The fatigue hit him then, watching you push his clothes into his suitcase. The room, now mostly clean, beckoned him in. The TV was already on, some home renovation show filling the void of silence. You looked up at Oscar as he moved into bed, curling into himself. You didn't rush, didn't force yourself into his space. Just let him watch the TV while you refolded his shirts and underwear. He trusted you more than he trusted himself. It's like you were fluent in all the ways he moved through life. You'd cracked his code when you were both too young to know that sometimes, friendships ended. Yours hadn't, so why would anyone else's?

He laid there for around twenty minutes when you moved. Everything cleaned, almost like he'd never existed in these four walls at all. You climbed into the empty space in the bed beside him, putting a bookmark he'd bought you between pages. You snuggled down into bed, leaving space between you. Oscar grieved alone, and this wasn't different.

"I'd kill them if they did that to my house," you mumbled, like the world wasn't ending. Oscar glanced at you. "They got rid of all the cool parts."

"You think you'd do it better?" He croaked, his voice hoarse from crying. You pretended not to notice.

"I know I could," you replied. "But maybe it's harder than it looks, so I shouldn't judge too hard." Your eyes flicked to him as you spoke. Oscar always felt seen when you looked at him like that. Like you'd peeled back every layer of the person he pretended to be, right into the core of him that still didn't like sharing his snacks and promised that you'd be best friends until the sun blew up.

"You shouldn't judge yourself, either." Oscar tried to nod, but he couldn't. He looked away from you. He felt warm. He looked to the TV to see what you found so distasteful. He clocked it right away. The dull colour they'd painted the walls. You liked colour. The way it caught the light, the way it made something look lived in.

Much like you did with him. Made him look lived in.

"You can be frustrated, or angry, but don't hold it against yourself. Because I won't let you talk about my Oscar like that." My Oscar. That rang in his heart like a glass shattering. "So, come back better tomorrow, and move on." You both fell silent.

His eyes moved to look at your hand, empty and placed in the space between. Not an invitation, but a possibility. In another life, he was sure he'd have grabbed it. But the next race, China, loomed in the distance like a shadow. he didn't take your hand, and you didn't move away. It's okay that you're not reaching, the silence sang, I'm just here in case you decide to.

Oscar wasn't sure when he fell asleep. Somewhere between you rambling about the importance of fire places and the clock hitting 1 AM. You'd been there when he closed his eyes, like you always were. He'd always fallen asleep first, even when you were both young and jacked up on candy and energy drinks. You'd make sure he was tucked in, secure from the monsters that would try and eat him while he slept.

But when he woke up, you were gone. Not just in the bathroom, to return, but vanished, like you'd never been there at all. The TV was off, the blankets tucked around Oscar like a warm hug. he AC unit hummed, set to the perfect sleeping temperature, and his water bottle full beside him, his phone plugged in. Traces of you scattered everywhere, but you'd left.

Oscar looked at his phone, a text from you, from an hour ago, sat unopened on his lock screen.

Your snoring got too loud.

It felt amazing to be winning, to be defying the expectations of the world. When he crossed the finish line in Miami, he felt like a man on fire. The world cheered from him like it was always meant to. This was what he'd been chasing, this rush of adrenaline, this push towards something greater. Australia hadn't held him down like he'd thought, it strengthened him. he'd learned, and he'd improved. Like you wanted. He didn't hold onto the guilt, to the tears. He let them go, between weekends of success, and through tight corners. He felt unstoppable.

Somewhere along the way, more cracks started to form. Ones that were almost too obvious to ignore now, but he kept glancing past them, looking ahead. Not rejecting, just stalling. You'd never bring something like this up with him on your own. He had to take that first step. He was just ... waiting. For success to soak into his bones and make him grow into the potential you always saw in him. He had more important things to worry about than you acting slightly different. You both knew it. So it just hung there. Always present, never addressed.

He approached the garage after the podium celebration, where you stood, smiling. He bee-lined for you, a hug manifesting in his bones. You laughed as he spun you, as the garage cheered, as eyes drank in the way he cherished you. How you celebrated every win like it was yours, too. How he always told you they were.

"Soon, you're gonna be sick of champagne," you whispered as he set you down. There was that look, the one he'd been pretending didn't alter the gravity in the room.

"I doubt it," he replied. You chuckled.

"You got me all sticky," you complained. "A piano is in the cards for sure."

"Not worried about hitting Lando?" He asked.

"Worth the risk."

Oscar's team called for him, he spun. They were going for drinks, something he'd done more times this season than his last two combined. he didn't do this, go out. But, when he won, he felt like he needed to experience the world made space for him because he'd done something right. He turned back to you.

"Want to come?" There was a time when he didn't have to ask. But, if he liked staying in, you liked it more. being his best friend stopped being a good enough reason to risk a hangover.

"What the hell? Sure," you agreed. Oscar beamed and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you with him towards the guys, Lando included. You split off into a car with the other girls on the team, preparing to get ready together. You turned to look at him before they'd pushed you into the driver's seat. You looked beautiful.

Oscar waved, like he always would, and turned without looking back. he couldn't look back, because if he did, he'd cancel his plans.

And he wanted to be a winner to more than just you tonight.

He wanted to be a winner to the world.

Time blurred together as Oscar and Lando got ready. No texts from you about how you hated getting ready to go out, how it felt like you were becoming someone else. He didn't check often, engrossed with Lando's plans for the evening. A little too much for him, but he'd try what he could handle.

"Mate, you gonna dance with anyone tonight?" Oscar replied that it would likely be you, because that's how it always went. Never romantic, just two people unafraid to embarrass themselves with each other. Lando wiggled his brows.

"Finally making a move?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Oscar asked as he rolled up his sleeves.

"They're, like, crazy into you, mate." Oscar repeated your name, a question. A chance for Lando to back down. For this conversation to stay safe, in a place Oscar made his home in. Not risky, safe, familiar.

"Don't me you haven't noticed?"

"I've noticed something," Oscar replied. "I don't have time for that right now, Lando. I'm finally ... making waves, as a driver."

"Well, do they know that you don't time for 'that'?" Lando used air quotes. Devastating.

"We're on the same page," Oscar replied. Lando widened his eyes, but said nothing. There wasn't anything he could say that would shatter the thin glass between Oscar and realizing that he was in the wrong. Lando wouldn't try, he knew better. He just hoped that the hurt you'd feel would be enough to do what his words couldn't.

Not that he wanted you to hurt. The opposite.

Especially when Oscar hadn't said he didn't feel the same. There was hope for something beautiful to take root.

The ride to the club was chaotic, loud, and overwhelming. All the things Oscar hated but swallowed down because this was his night. Other drivers decided to join him. George, Max, and Charles were the first to follow Lando's call for a party. The rookies couldn't drink, and some other drivers were doing something more low key. Something Oscar would've preferred. You didn't ride with him, dubbed the driver for the night. Sober and ready to record him being an idiot, as you lovingly put.

Everyone met up outside the club. The boys arrived first. Waiting in the crisp air sent a second wind through Oscar's blood. This was going to be a wild night.

Your group approached, the women of the paddock flocking to you like a moth to a flame. They'd taken to you instantly, pulling you into their galaxy. You were an engineer, but you and Oscar arrived together often enough for them to notice you, and they hadn't let you go. Not that you'd truly protest. Oscar couldn't be your only friend.

It stung that you were finding other friends in this world you'd forced yourself into. Childhood jealousy, something green and rotten had bloomed in his chest that first day when you spent the time on a weekend at a cafe with Carmen, instead of continuing your binge of whatever caught your fancy. That feeling died, though, when he noticed how happy being surrounded by good people made you.

He'd always be your number one, no matter how old you both got, no matter where you were. Even when he was with his family for the break and you stayed in England in the apartment he helped you pick out, learning to love being alone. The distance didn't matter when you both tried.

He didn't expect you to dress up. You normally didn't. Oscar tried not to let his breathing changed as you walked towards him in something you'd never choose for yourself.

"Don't," you chastised. "I'm supposed to be flirty tonight apparently I can't sleep with my engineering notebooks tonight," you whispered to him as you both pushed into the club after the group.

"Forced relations?"

"Just heavily implied," you replied. "They say I haven't gotten action since the Christmas party last year." Oscar furrowed his brows.

"What happened at the Christmas party?" You hadn't told him about anything. You always did. You told him about your first kiss, your first everything. He met your first boyfriend, interviewed him with the strictness of a father. It hadn't lasted. He claimed innocence. You and the world knew he'd had a hand in it.

"Nothing," you shook him off as your eyes roamed to the bar. You moved away from Oscar to follow the girls. Somewhere in front of him, Lando diverted to follow you. Oscar watched you both go, smiling to himself. You and Lando had gotten closer this year. Lando had no qualms joining your board game nights, and had pulled you into their orbit like you'd always belonged there. It felt good, to know that Lando had adopted you as well as Oscar. That you mattered to someone else a fraction of what you meant to him.

Lando leaned in to whisper something to you, and Oscar watched shock fill your face as you slammed your balled fist into Lando's shoulder, laughter escaping. They both glanced back at Oscar. Oscar pretended to only be seeing you for the first time.

Deep down, he knew what you both were talking about. Him.

He pretended that it didn't matter. Because it couldn't. Not now. Once the season ended and he'd accomplished all he'd set out to do, Oscar could decide if he wanted to open that door.

For now, he needed his best friend. His engineer. The person you made him as his engineer was more important than whoever he'd be if he let you love him.

"Think fast!" You shouted as you tossed his water bottle at him. Oscar barely reacted in time. You pushed into the space by his side as the paddock busied itself preparing for the end of the first half of the season.

"You could've killed me," Oscar teased. You shrugged.

"But I didn't."

"And that makes it all better?" You snorted into your own drink.

"You should thank me. I'm improving your reflexes."

"That's what we're calling it now?" It fell silent. Not the kind of silence that demanded to be filled. A silence soft around the edges, one so perfectly you and Oscar. Ones filled with thoughts not dared to be spoken aloud.

"Did you think about what I asked this morning?" You asked. The trip invitation. You'd booked tickets to an isolated Grecian island for the break, a chance to reset, to connect with the earth, the sky, and the sun. You both always went away together for the break, either to visit family, or find a new place to leave your souls for two weeks. Two weeks of laughter, inside jokes, and moments that were too purposeful to be mistaken for just friendship. trips Oscar looked back on with fondness and gentle smiles. But, he hadn't agreed yet. He had been thinking about it all day, even during the race.

He was sure he knew what the small cracks in you meant. Would going on this trip shatter you completely? Could he risk his suspicions being confirmed by everything you didn't say? Could your friendship survive the answer he'd crafted?

If Oscar hadn't noticed, if he was still himself, he know what he'd say. yes, a thousand times over. But saying yes right now meant more than it ever had back then. It meant being alone with you, when his gut had been telling him the same thing for almost six months.

So, he lied.

"I was invited on a trip with Lando last week," he admitted quietly. You tensed. "I can tell him I'm going with you instead." Oscar knew that you'd never force him to cancel plans he'd already made. he weaponized your kindness, and it was eating him alive.

"No, it's okay!" You assured him, like he knew you would. You still smiled, but he could see the sadness in it. He almost crumbled, almost fell to pieces at your feet because he did want to go on that trip, he wanted to watch sunsets and pretend that the world wouldn't notice if you both disappeared.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. And he was. You nodded slowly, pushing yourself away from his side. Not in defeat, but in hope.

"If you're not going, that means I can ask Isack," you assured him. Oscar's brow furrowed. When had you and Isack gotten close? "Tell me all about your guys trip with Lando when you get back, okay?" You waved as you turned and bolted towards the Racing Bulls hospitality, hoping to catch Isack before he left.

Oscar forced himself to stay still as he typed out a message to Lando.

Got any plans for summer break?

The Baku air was oppressive in its expectations. The summer break had been good, exciting, wild, if Oscar could call it that. Lando had pulled through at the last minute, and the break had turned out okay. They went to Spain and Oscar joined in on a Quadrant video Lando was filming. It hadn't been planned, but it had been fun.

He'd been stalking your Instagram since you'd posted your photo dump. The island, gorgeous in its simplicity, and Isack. Isack had agreed, so you hadn't been alone. You both had gone to flea markets, adventured to old ruins, and swam in waves the purest blue. Oscar had commented looks mega and moved on, hoping that he could just put his phone down and stop analyzing the way you and Isack seemed so happy.

Someone else to send your puppy eyes towards. He could focus.

Then the race went badly. As bad as it could have. he crashed. Him. His first crash since 2023, and he wallowed. A marshal brought him their phone so he could watch the rest of the race live.

of course, when he tuned in, they replayed the crash. He tensed. Your voice, caught on the radio, filled his ears.

"Shit, Osc, you okay? Is he okay?" You sounded panicked, like you were losing someone important. He supposed he was important. He heard Zak's voice, assuring you that Oscar was fine. The replay ended, and the race continued. In another life, when he felt more like himself, he'd text you, no matter whose phone it was.

For now, though. He just watched the rest of the race. he didn't know what he could say to you to make himself feel better. To not feel that he'd let you down. Even though you'd never admit it. His crash looked bad on you, too. Not just him. You were a team, and he'd ruined something good for you.

He couldn't face all the ways he had been a bad friend just yet. So he watched the race.

He started noticing changes. These ones were more obvious. You became more of his engineer, and less of his friend. he started doing worse, and so did you. You didn't come to his hotel room when he finished P5. You expressed sympathy, gave him a quick hug, but left him to pick up the pieces by himself. You hung around with Isack more, laughing at his jokes. he saw stories of you and Isack playing Mario Kart at 1 AM, when he was busy feeling sorry for himself.

Oscar never realized how big of a gap you'd leave behind. How everything he did seemed to be with you in mind. He was ... lonely. It felt strange to admit, because he'd been without you before. He'd been in England while you stayed in Australia, for Christ sake. But, you'd never felt far from him, had you? Photos of the two of you in his dorm, calls while you both worked on homework visits whenever you both had time. You'd never been apart, not in the ways that mattered.

You'd started laving his messages on delivered. Not even openig them. You were busy, so was he, but he'd feel better if you at least knew that he was trying to fix what he'd broken. If he even deserved that.

The he lost his championship lead, and the world felt like it was ending. He'd held it for so long, thought he could win it. But then it was gone. You hadn't been in his ear that race. You were feeling under the weather. Not your fault, and not his. Just a cruel twist of fate. Oscar blamed the person who stood in for you, because blaming you wouldn't be true, or fair. And blaming someone else was always easier than blaming yourself. The car didn't feel the same. That's what he said in interviews to pull away from the fact that it was him who didn't feel the same. he felt off. Not on his A-game. He knew it was obvious. The downfall of Oscar Piastri, a champion before he was ready. That's how people would remember this season. As something almost magical.

That night, you texted him. Because what else could you do?

I'm sorry.

He stared at it like it would manifest and grow wings. Like it could solve all his problems. He needed to hear those words out loud, from you, right now. Because reading them wasn't enough. especially not from you.

After Vegas, Lando had enough.

"I don't know what's up with you, mate, but you need to stop it." Oscar scoffed, because what right did Lando have to his friendships? What right did anyone else have? First, Charles and Arthur noticed something, then Max, and everyone else was quick to follow. He arrived to the paddock alone, you had arrived hours earlier, fighting with the brass to adjust the car as you advised, because they liked to ignore you. It felt wrong, coming on his own. It had been weird to everyone else, too.

"Don't scoff, Oscar. I don't know what happened, but you've royally hurt your race engineer." Oscar tensed at that. "How's focusing on your future going, hm?" Oscar could've snapped. he could've punched Lando, but he stayed still.

"That's not-"

"What? That's not important? Try telling that to them. mate, they're in love with you, and you tossed them away like trash." Oscar stumbled, like Lando had hit him. Because that was true, wasn't it? He had discarded you, not outright, but in all the small ways that added up to something larger and scary. "I told them. That I hadn't asked you about the break before they did." Oscar's hands clenched.

"And somehow, they weren't surprised. And you know what they said? 'He doesn't really care, does he?' And I didn't know how to answer that."

"Of course I care!" Oscar shot back.

"Clearly not, because if you did, you'd tell them that you were too much of a coward to be anything more than friends." How could he argue with that? It ran true inside of him, like a tolling bell. "You should apologize. It sucks seeing you pretend that everything's fine and it sucks seeing them make themself smaller so you can achieve something bigger." He knew you'd given up a part of yourself when you attached your name to his, your future was his. And he'd let you down.

Lando saw his words land. His posture loosened.

"When did you get so wise?" Oscar asked with a small chuckle. Tears gathered in his eyes. Ones he would've pushed away if it was anyone else.

"I'm plenty wise, actually. You just don't listen." Lando patted Oscar on the shoulder. "Go, mate. You know where they are." Oscar nodded and took off running. He didn't care if he looked like a mess. Because in the end, he didn't care what anyone else thought of him. Just you. You who'd sacrifice everything you knew so he could smile.

He found you where you usually were in a fancy hotel, in the hot tub because there was something different about fancy hotel hot tubs, something that made you feel like you'd made it.

He wasn't in swim wear. Something obvious when he pushed through the doors. The pool was empty. It was late, or early, depending on how you thought about time. You were in the hot tub, book in your hands. You were facing away from him. Oscar took his phone out of his pocket, slipped off his shoes, and moved towards you. You looked up when he got closer. He recognized the smile you sent him. The one you resorted to when you didn't know how to form words.

"This seat taken?" He asked with a broken voice, pointing at the tub.

"You're not wearing a swim suit." Oscar shrugged and climbed into the tub. He regretted it right away, but he let the water surround him like warm arms. "I'm sorry." You put your book on the deck and turned to face him.

"For what?" Not because you didn't think you were owed an apology, but because you wanted him to tell you what he'd done. Own up to all the ways he'd become a shitty friend. A chance to grow and change, because that's what life was for.

"For becoming someone you don't recognize." You put your legs over his, not romantic, just you. Oscar exhaled, letting a broken smile overtake his face. He missed being close to you, in whatever way you allowed. "I let ... everything consume me. Trophies started to matter more than you, and I don't think I'll ever understand why." It was hunger, but something unnamed, something rotten inside him. That longed to be remembered for something more than how he lived.

"I thought being me wasn't enough for what I wanted. And you're everything to me." Not romantic, just the truth. "I think I'm gonna beat myself up for that for the rest of my life." He looked down. You moved closer.

"You're allowed to make mistakes."

"But I'm not allowed to hurt you, and that's what I did." You shrugged.

"You're allowed to, there's no law against it. Hurting the wrong people is part of life."

"I wish it didn't have to be," Oscar surrendered his words to the air. Growing up was hard. He'd seen it first hand, experienced it a hundred times over. Making the wrong choice was easy.

"Me too," you mumbled. You leaned forward, resting your head on his shoulder. Oscar leaned his head against yours.

"I missed you," he breathed. He meant it. He wasn't himself without you. He was something marginally worse without you. And he hoped that you were better when he was by your side, too.

"I missed you, too." He sighed in relief. "And I forgive you, by the way."

"I know." A part of him always knew that you'd forgive him, just as he'd always forgive you. because that's the kind of people you made each other.

"No, you didn't. I'm mysterious." He chuckled, loudly, for the first time in what felt like weeks.

"As mysterious as a puppy, maybe."

"Rude." It wasn't mended, just poorly attached with crazy glue and a dream, but he felt the air change. Your friendship was back. And as he looked at you, he realized that the cracks in you were just as beautiful as you always had been.

Oscar had been focused on the cracks in you, he hadn't noticed the ones in himself.

He hadn't won the championship, but he had you back. And at the moment, under the Australian sun, meant more than any world title. Losing you had been the worst part of the season, and having you back made everything vulnerable.

The cracks started by him noticing things. The way the sun made your hair glow, the way the ocean breeze clung to your skin like a blanket. You were beautiful, he knew that, in an objective, they're my best friend way. Knowing someone was beautiful and seeing it were two different things.

And he saw it now.

You spent every waking second together, in your house or his. It felt good, being together. You went to dinner, and took photos if fans recognized you. You spent your days finding new spots in Melbourne, going to the beach, and pretending that the break would last forever.

How was it possible to fall in love with someone you'd known your whole life?

Oscar noticed how he'd gravitate to you, hands linked more often than not. He went with you everywhere like it was wired in him. he'd become the one thing you came to expect. He realize dhow much he knew about you, how much useless knowledge he'd held onto his whole life. Your coffee order, your size in clothes, the way you crossed the street, your favourite side of the street to walk on.

It was so easy to pretend to be something more than just your best friend. Because it felt like a natural progression, something that was meant to happen.

The break passed by in a flash. The last night descended upon you both like a storm. You'd packed both your suitcases, and Oscar read to you.

He didn't want to go back. It was a funny thing, realizing that where he was was where he'd always wanted to be.

"Have you ever thought about where you'd be if you hadn't followed me?" Oscar asked.

"Hm?" You looked up at him. "Not really. I kinda always knew where I'd be." Beside you. The words hung in the space between you. Oscar found himself smiling.

"I can't picture anyone else doing what you do."

"My evil plan succeeded," you joked. Oscar slid off his bed to sit beside you on the floor.

"You've bewitched me," he breathed. You looked up at him. He saw the moment you registered the cracks in him, the way he'd seen yours.

"Osc?"

"Hi," he greeted.

"Hi," you greeted back. So close, two plants on a collision course. In the silence, what went unsaid was loudest.

I love you.

And when he kissed you, it got louder, filled the room, the universe and beyond.

How was it possible to fall in love with someone you'd known your whole life?

It was possible because it was easier than breathing. Because it was you.

And Oscar wasn't sure when you'd become more than enough for him. If he asked anyone who knew you, they'd say it was the day you met. But Oscar wagered that it was before that. Before you'd even met. Because loving you felt like the easiest thing in the word, whatever form it took throughout his life.

Love grew, and so did he. And so would you, and so would the world. But as long as you were beside him, he didn't mind learning to change.

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