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It’s very easy to miss it at first.
It sounds like a joke, feels like a joke. They’re, mostly, a bunch of men who throw dicks and balls jokes every now and then when the cameras aren’t on them, who shove each other around because that’s their kind of humour and Oscar participates, so it doesn’t feel wrong when it first happens.
Lando does glance at Zak and Andrea when the first one interrupts what Oscar was saying, but debrief goes on normally and he soon forgets about it. Oscar talks again at some point with no interruptions and it all feels fine, there are many more things to discuss and a single interruption means nothing.
When it happens a second time Lando finds it a bit odd, but nothing to worry about.
The third it’s… weirder, they can perfectly wait until Oscar is done, what’s the point of interrupting him?
But maybe Lando is overthinking. Oscar doesn’t look bothered, well, he stares at Zak and Andrea for a second before he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, mouth snapping shut as his eyes eventually move to the screen or whatever they are looking and or pointing at, but he doesn’t look terribly offended.
Not that Oscar is the type who will start fighting in that moment, but he’s very expressive with his face and while he can see he’s a bit taken aback by it, he just settles back and lets everything continue.
“Hey, let Oscar finish,” he finds himself saying the fourth time. “He has a point.”
Lando can feel the way the air in the room shifts, the awkwardness that wraps around the engineers and rest of people caught in the middle, but he keeps his eyes on Zak and Andrea. With the first holding his gaze while the second clears his throat and crosses his arms.
“You’re right,” Zak finally says. “Go on, Oscar.”
At his side, his teammate hesitates. Lando needs to glance at him to see him internally struggling to regain his thoughts, opening and closing his mouth a couple of times before the idea fully returns. “It was just about that section of the track, I had no grip, could have ended in the wall.”
“Yeah, well, our Oscar really knows how it is to be on the wall.”
A couple of chuckles fill the room, Oscar being one of the contributing ones, but his sounds forced, awkward in a way he’s not. Lando, meanwhile, just stares.
“What?”
“It’s a joke, Lando,” Zak hums, those eyes moving to Oscar. “Isn’t that right, Osc?”
“Yeah… a joke.”
Lando’s mind reels with the landslide of things that happened in just a couple of seconds.
It can be a joke, sure, he has been on the receiving end of a lot of those jokes, willing and unwillingly, but it just feels wrong to come up with it in the middle of an otherwise normal team debrief after whatever Monaco was. He knows people say McLaren as a whole are loosing their minds with how this season is going, but it’s just… weird.
Oscar’s reaction to it is odd, too, he stumbled upon a comment that said Oscar reminded them a lot of the Prema Oscar during this weekend and he found himself agreeing. He seemed to be having fun and enjoying everything and that doesn’t match the awkward and almost forced chuckle that left his lips just now.
Also, since when Zak calls him Osc? That’s Lando’s nickname, the one he came up with randomly.
“I had no grip there, either, I would have ended in the wall if I continued, I’m sure.”
Tom and Will agree from where they are and that somehow helps to let things continue. They move around the ridiculous crater thing left after the race and how the pace was completely off before his car decided it didn’t want to continue with that torture.
Lando keeps his attention on Oscar, however. He doesn’t look any less tense, there’s this odd edge on his shoulders that follows even the way he drums his fingers agains the table and the way he shifts on his seat to change his position. He no longer looks comfortable, but despite all of this, keeps everything else under controlled. His voice is normal, his reactions as well and maybe Lando is overthinking.
He goes to a club that night, knows Oscar has breakfast with his mother.
Everything is fine, or at least, the things that can be controlled.
When he’s summoned back to check on the mass of things his car has, he doesn’t find Oscar, apparently they decided to dedicate an entire day to Lando’s car and then move on with the issues of Oscar’s, though, some didn’t seem to be aware of it because their social media team look confused when Andrea says they can record what they had planned with both another day.
Lando also finds it weird, but then everything that is wrong with his car distracts him.
“We should just change your car with Oscar’s.”
Distracted as he is, Lando’s next noise is one that mixes a snort and a small chuckle, but when what he said registers, he frowns, looking up.
“Give him a break,” he says. “Had enough with starting in Japan instead of Australia.”
“Well, we all deal with the consequences of our mistakes,” he shrugs, Lando frowns more. “We’re at the verge of getting a penalty for replacing components.”
“I’m very aware of it,” he says. “But I’m not sure that’s the best solution.”
Zak laughs, a couple of mechanics as well. “Lighten up, Lando, you know our jokes.”
And it all goes back to their humour, the one he likes and participates in, but he doesn’t even know why it just doesn’t feel right this time. He can’t even blame it on the stress of the season because he is stressed, but it’s not the same stress he had the year before.
“Right.”
He is not called when Oscar is, which is weird again, especially with how they seem to be stressed about Lando’s car, but he still receives the message saying he should be leaving for Barcelona soon so they can take the most of it and almost all of it is wrong with it and sends a very unpleasant sensation down Lando’s body.
It’s not that they will get in the track if he arrives earlier, and isn’t Leo taking the first free practice?
Lando still hesitates for a while. His eyes stay on his phone where the message he received that morning still tempts him with a normality he doesn’t feel and can’t even understand why it feels like that. He’s letting his mind run wild again, to places that even feel completely out of nowhere.
Zak’s joke seem to be fixed on Oscar, but they are just that, right?
Following that thought, there’s no reason for him to drop in unannounced. Not that he has something much better to do right now, anyway.
“Hey there, where’s Oscar?”
“With Zak and Andrea,” the woman says with a sigh. “I have so many ideas I want to record and they are just dragging him around.”
“I’ll drag him back then,” he jokes, ignoring the spark that settles on his stomach. “And now I’m here, too, so two for one.”
She smiles, pushing him away in the direction where their simulators are. Rude they took only Oscar, he could use some practice, but the thought doesn’t last long. Why are Zak and Andrea there? It’s normally just the two of them along with Will and Tom.
Lando still shakes his head, there goes his mind to weird places. He’s about to interrupt a good practice session because of his weird brain, but he will at least get a bit of peace of mind and—
“Are you fucking stupid?”
Lando’s entire body freezes, his blood running cold as he looks at the small gap of the door where the voice managed to sound so clearly.
“I—”
“Not that you haven’t made it very clear since the start of this season,” Zak continues, Lando has never heard that horrible tone on him. “Crashing everywhere, barely reaching the podium.”
“I didn’t crash,” Oscar voice says, it sounds so quiet, so weak. “The car would be alright if you had let the simulation continue.”
“I’m sure it would,” the man hisses. “Why are we even wasting resources on your car? Everything should go to Lando’s, he’s having real problems.”
“I don’t decide that.”
“Thank God you don’t, otherwise we would be screwed!” he yells. “Four races and you have already costs us as much as the entire electrical system.”
“I…”
Oscar doesn’t answer, Lando would be sure he wouldn’t, either, just imagining himself in that position feels like a nightmare and his entire body pulses with the urgency of needing to do something, step in because that’s not right, they shouldn’t be talking to him like that, but his body doesn’t move. He’s a mess o negative emotions that don’t know how to leave his body.
“If you don’t do what you’re supposed to do in Barcelona, this will get much worse for you.” The threat is clear. “We’re already starting to question if the investment we made on you was worth it, Lando’s car needs all the attention we’re wasting on you.”
What?
That’s just being beyond stupid, that’s a level created for them, both are consistent in earning points, even with a shity car. They just got their P2 and P3.
“It’s not my fault Lando’s car is failing.”
Of course it isn’t, it’s not that Oscar is cutting wires or fumbling with the battery, it’s just his bad luck and problems they’re supposed to correct, this is getting ridiculous and they’re going to—
The noise the slap makes feels like a physical punch.
Lando stares with the same wide eyes at the door, his body starting to tremble. Did they just…
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”
Both Zak and Andrea pale when he slams the door open, expression full of disbelief that Lando ignores because he looks at Oscar to find him with his head to the side, one hand holding his cheek while the other holds onto the edge of the simulator, the headseat he normally wears still around his neck.
“What are you doing here, Lando?” Zak asks, voice low.
“That’s what worries you?” he hisses. “That you got caught?”
“You’re misunderstanding, Lando,” Andrea tries, hands raised.
“Zak just hit Oscar and you did nothing, there’s nothing to misunderstand here!” he says. “And all that bullshit you were saying, what the fuck is wrong with you two?”
Oscar’s body is trembling when Lando carefully reaches for him to help him straighten up, eyes fixed on the floor while his hand refuses to leave his own face.
“He’s underperforming, Lando.”
“Underperforming my ass,” he says, glaring at both. “Fucking car doesn’t work and he still earned points almost every weekend.”
“It’s not enough—”
“Then fix the damn car!” he yells but ends up shaking his head. “Even if he was, in what fucking world is that an excuse to treat him like this?”
They have the decency of looking remorseful, but Lando couldn’t care less.
“Lando—”
“This isn’t over,” he hisses. “I swear.”
Oscar doesn’t do or say anything when Lando starts moving, one arm wrapping around his waist while the other shields the other side of his face. He seems to move in automatic, eyes not even looking up.
“He knows what he has done, Lando,” Zak says. “It’s the least someone who fumbled a World Championship could do.”
He considers arguing, do something with all the anger that courses through his body, but what’s the point? Along with it comes the sensation that makes him feel as if he had been stabbed, so he ignores it.
Oscar remains the same when they leave the room, in the corner of his eyes Lando sees some people have moved closer, everyone looking in their direction, but he refuses to do or say something. He keeps his hold as secure as he can, shielding Oscar entirely and walking all the way to his own car.
He still doesn’t argue when he opens the door. He climbs inside and settles there, eyes fixed on his knees while Lando gets inside and starts driving off. Lando doesn’t like complete silence, but everything else feels wrong and his own heart feels close to bursting out of his chest with the collection of negative emotions.
“I bought chocolate the other day, my mother said it was the best she has had,” he starts when the car comes to a stop. “But you’re the expert, want to try it?”
Oscar’s beautiful eyes close, a shuddering breath escaping his lips as his hand seems to press more against his face. “Lando… You have plans, I can get home.”
“Nah, I’m free,” he hums. “I’m not letting you alone right now.”
He considers it, of course he does, he has been on his own since he was fourteen, he’s used to handling things alone, but there’s no scenario where Lando will be willing to leave him alone right now.
“Just a bit, then.”
The silence continues on the whole way up. Oscar hand remains against his face, the other arm wrapped around his middle to support his slightly hunched over posture. He has always been taller, but he looks much shorter like this and Lando hates that sight.
“I’ll get you some tea and the chocolate,” he says when he walks to stop in the middle of his living room. “Get yourself comfortable.”
Oscar doesn’t, of course. He remains where he is for a moment before awkwardly moving to the sofa where he lets himself sit down slowly, still clutching his body with his eyes fixing themselves on the floor. It’s ridiculous how much Lando’s heart can break, but he knows it’s on him to help, do something, so he pulls his phone out and texts Max to cancel their hangout they did have planned for the night after promising to explain later while the water is ready and comes back with the promised chocolates an tea.
The back of Lando’s mind says he needs to do or say something, but what? Nothing feels appropriate or even reasonable for the situation, nothing is good enough, nothing makes sense. It’s a fucked up situation that shouldn’t have happened, but it did and it leaves a void where nothing feels right.
In the end, however, there is something that manages to break through the layers of despair.
“Did it start last year?”
Oscar lets out a shaky breath, eyes closing again for a couple of seconds before he opens them again. “I know where you are going, it’s not your fault.”
“If it started last year then—”
“What were you supposed to do?” he asks, looking at him. “Give up so you didn’t win? It’s not your fault, I made mistakes.”
Lando’s own nails dig on his own palm, teeth grinding. “It’s no one’s fault, then, it’s just fucked up.”
“I guess we can agree on that…” he whispers, he truly sounds vulnerable. “I don’t think it matters.”
“Oscar, this can’t stay like this.”
His lower lip trembles, Lando reaching for his free hand is immediate. “We both know this won’t end well, Lando.”
“Who cares?” he asks, standing up to crouch in front of him. “They can’t get away with this.”
For the first time, Oscar’s eyes move to him, the despair and pain making the normally bright eyes look clouded, devoid of that energy he loves seeing there. For a long time they just remain like that, Lando is still holding onto his hand, still trying, but after a moment, Oscar sighs, letting his other hand drop from his face.
Lando once more sees red at the bruise blooming in the sensitive skin.
“I can deal with it, manage it,” he says quietly. “It’s not always like this, sometimes it’s just… I’ll squeeze everything out of that car.”
“What?” he asks in desbelief. “You can’t just let it continue happen and— How long has this been happening?”
Because managing means it’s not the first time, not always like this means it has happened before and he suddenly feels sick.
“That’s not—”
“Please.”
Oscar’s eyes return to his, his lip trembles again, tears he refuses to let out glazing his eyes over.
“It didn’t start like this,” he whispers, vaguely gesturing towards his face. “It was just comments, jokes that suddenly felt more personal, the kind that aimed at something very specific.”
Lando’s heart falls. How many did he miss?
“It mostly went around losing the lead, the huge drop in performance, Max becoming a bigger threat than he already was,” he continues, looking down at his hands. “When you took the lead it went better, it was you, it was McLaren, it was fine, fell within what they could control, but in the end it wasn’t Oscar Piastri leading the World Championship in his third year in Formula One, it was Oscar Piastri’s abysmal drop after leading for so long.”
Lando’s stomach twists because he does remember feeling for him and everything that was said about him. Media could be nasty, but the least he imagined was that his own team was doing it as well. “Oscar…”
“Then Australia came, I was already beating myself enough when Zak just—”
He stops, Lando sees his throat swallowing the large lump that forms in his throat, the way he blinks desperately to keep the tears from falling and the way he tries to hold onto something until Lando reaches for both hands to hold them.
“He held my wrist so tightly I was sure he wanted to break it, called me an idiot for damaging the car, they had enough problems and I just had to come with more,” he whispers. “Didn’t you have enough last year? If it wasn’t for Lando, we would have ended as the biggest clowns in history.”
He feels sicks, how could all of that happen when he was around?
“China kind of was on me, as well, apparently, but with Japan things were mostly calm, Miami as well and… yeah,” he whispers. “Canada happened and now Monaco.”
“How could they do this?” he asks, hesitating for a second before dashing to get an ice pack, wrapping it in a towel to carefully press it to the swelling area. “You don’t deserve any of that.”
“I am aware of my mistakes but…” he says, closing his eyes. “I just learnt to deal with it.”
“That’s not what you’re supposed to do,” he hisses. “Why are they acting like school bullies when both are two grown-ass men?”
“Powerful ones,” Oscar whispers, looking at Lando. “We both know what it means.”
“Well, I don’t care,” Lando says slowly. “They can’t just walk away from this.”
“Lando…”
“McLaren existed before they came and will exist after them,” he says with a shake of his head. “I’m not leaving you face it alone, and I’m sure everyone would be in your side if it came to it.”
“I… I don’t know,” he admits, the first tear sliding down his face. “I can still handle it.”
“You don’t have to,” he says with a frown. “They can’t live without consequences and if there’s none, then I will leave McLaren.”
“McLaren is your place.”
“I don’t want a place that hurts someone important to me,” Lando says softly, cleaning the tears from his eyes. “And if this world doesn’t do anything about it, then I don’t want to have anything to do with this world either.”
Oscar stares at him for a long time before emotions finally break free and the tears he tried to hold slip free, a sob escaping his lips as he takes one of his hands to cover his face. Lando’s heart breaks into a million pieces, he can’t stand seeing the one he loves suffering like this.
“I can’t do that to you,” he says between sobs. “And yet… I can’t do it alone.”
His arms soon wrap around him, the icepack left at the side so the bruise is there in all its horrible glory. Lando’s determination seems to be stronger.
“You’re not going to be alone ever again, Oscar,” he whispers softly. “And we will do it in whatever way you want.”
Oscar nods, even that feels weak, but it’s a big step and Lando holds onto that, running his hand down his back until Oscar little by little settles down, his sobs becoming less painful, breathing more natural, body trembling less.
He means it, really. He’s not going to give them the power to taint one of the best things he has in life, but he’s not letting them destroy someone else because of it.
“Breaking news: McLaren’s CEO and Team Principal under investigation for allegedly abusing one of their drivers.”
He’s willing to let the world burn for it.