Chapter Text
Oscar’s Perspective
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I don't think I've ever been more terrified than I was when I asked Lando Norris if I could kiss him. Which is saying something.
I've driven cars at speeds that should've terrified me. I've stood on starting grids with people expecting me to fail. I've spent years carrying expectations around like they were stitched directly into my skin.
Somehow, none of that came close to the feeling of waiting for Lando’s answer.
At least racing makes sense. It’s numbers and data. Strict points that don’t change – and if they do, you can track why.
I can’t track people. Especially not Lando.
The thing about Lando is that everyone thinks he's easy to understand. That he’s just this shy kid that keeps to himself. Not taking up too much space and not looking to.
I know most people look at him and decide who he is within five seconds. The reason I know is because I did it too.
The first time I saw him – I still remember it perfectly. Which is ridiculous, because it happened three years ago. But some memories refuse to fade. Especially the important ones.
Especially ones with Lando.
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My first day at Hailbury wasn't particularly memorable. At least that was until I saw him.
I remember being overwhelmed. Not visibly. I don't think I've ever been visibly overwhelmed. That's not really how I work.
If you show your feelings on-track, someone can use that against you. So over the years, I’ve gotten really good at just being quiet. Composed. I get really observant and I watch.
I assess.
I try to figure things out before I interact with them. It's easier that way. It prevents unwanted emotions.
The school was bigger than I expected. Older too – which I didn’t particularly like. Everyone already seemed to know each other. Groups had formed. Conversations were long and perpetual. Everyone looked comfortable.
I didn't.
I spent most of that first morning wondering if I'd made a mistake coming here. Not that I had much of a choice.
I was a little frustrated because I was late to my first class because I had gotten lost. I don’t like being late, especially not on the first day.
Then I saw him.
At first he was just another student. A shaved head that showed off his ears and side profile. His eyes were pointed downwards as he was leaning against a hallway wall. There wasn’t anything particularly unusual about it and I was about to walk away when I noticed the way his hands were shaking.
The way he kept trying to breathe and how it looked so difficult for him. His shoulders were locked so tightly they looked painful. I didn't understand what was happening immediately. I just knew something was wrong.
The closer I got, the worse he looked. I remember thinking that he seemed trapped inside himself somehow. Like he wanted to ask for help but didn't know how.
I stood there for longer than I should've. Trying to decide whether approaching him would make things better or worse.
Eventually I decided that it didn’t matter. I figured my presence couldn’t possibly worsen the situation. At least I hoped it wouldn’t.
So I walked over. I remember putting my hand on his shoulder and immediately worrying I'd made a mistake. He jumped so hard I almost apologized and left. But then he looked at me.
And that was enough to make me stay.
For the next twenty minutes, the only thing that mattered was just helping him breathe. Helping him focus on the present. The cool brick of the walls. The zig zags of the wooden floors. I figured getting him to focus on small things would help him come back.
I remember helping him sit against the wall. I remember him letting me take his hand, and I remember thinking how strange it was that someone could look so terrified and still trust me enough to help him.
I remember how scared he looked. But I also remember how hard he was trying not to show it. I remember thinking he shouldn't have had to do that alone.
I remember promising myself to never let him do that alone again. But afterward–
After he said that he was okay. After he could breathe again. After he thanked me…
I left. Because I didn't know what else to do.
I've regretted that single decision for three years.
I should've stayed. I should've introduced myself properly. I should've asked if he was okay. I should've done something. At least now I wouldn’t feel like I’m playing catch-up in Lando’s life.
After the hallway, every time we accidentally brushed shoulders in a hallway or reached for the same door, I'd think about it. About how easy it had felt to sit beside him. About how I should’ve stayed.
Instead I walked away, and then it became impossible to do anything about it.
Because suddenly days passed.
Then weeks.
Then months.
And every time I saw him after that, it felt stranger to walk over.
Like too much time had passed. Because it had.
Like I'd missed my chance. Because I did.
So I stayed away.
Which sounds stupid now. Because it was.
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The problem was that I kept noticing him. It was becoming a problem for my focus. My grades.
I saw him everywhere. In hallways. Outside classrooms. In the library. At lunch.
But he wasn't loud. Actually, he was probably one of the quietest people at school. But somehow I always noticed when he was around.
Sometimes he'd be laughing with Max and I’d try not to let the jealousy leak onto my face.
Sometimes he'd have headphones on and I’d want nothing more than to know what he was listening to.
So I started listening to things I thought he might like. At first it was ridiculous. Fleetwood Mac. Bowie. Albums I'd seen tucked underneath his arm in the library. Artists I'd overheard him mention. I told myself I was broadening my tastes. That it had nothing to do with him.
Which would've been more convincing if I’d actually listened to music before.
Sometimes he'd be staring out a window. Not daydreaming exactly. It looked more like he disappeared somewhere.
I'd watch entire conversations happen around him while he was having a completely different one inside his own head. Then somebody would say his name and he'd blink like he'd just come back from somewhere far away.
I started recognizing the difference between when Lando was physically present and when he actually was.
After three years, you learn things.
Every single time I saw him, I'd tell myself I should walk over. Just say hello. That's all. Simple.
“Hello.”
It's perfectly reasonable. I’ve said it more times in my life than I can count. But none of those times carried this amount of weight.
So I developed a routine. I’d see him. I’d plan my actions. I’d work up the courage…
And then I'd overthink it.
What if he didn't remember me? What if he did remember me and thought it was weird? What if I interrupted him? What if he didn't want to talk?
What if? What if? What if?
That’s one too many. I don’t live my life by “What ifs.” When I’m on track, “What if” can get me hurt. Or worse…
So that’s what I told myself.
That I was saving myself by staying away. That I’d be running towards my demise by pursuing this thing that I wanted so badly.
But I did want it. And I didn’t know how to get over that. So I got good at recognizing him from a distance.
The way he walked. The way he tucked his hands into his sleeves. The way he tilted his head when he was listening. The way he bit his bottom lip or picked his nails when he was nervous. The way he always held back his laugh in public.
The tiny things. Pointless things to everyone else. Things you don't usually notice unless you're paying attention.
And fuck…
I was paying attention. Far more than I should've been.
Especially after I realized he was attractive.
That was the wrench in my plan to stay away. A massive wrench. Because suddenly it wasn't just curiosity anymore. Suddenly there was a reason I kept looking.
And that reason was much harder to explain. Even to myself.
I remember the exact moment I realized too.
I remember seeing him outside one afternoon with sunlight catching in his curls. Which he’d just grown out after walking around with a buzz cut for the majority of the year. I liked being able to see the line of his profile.
But now with his hair in full bloom, it only accentuated the parts that I already enjoyed.
I remember thinking he was beautiful and then almost immediately deciding I was being ridiculous.
We'd spoken exactly once.
Three years ago.
Nobody develops a crush based on one interaction.
So I ignored it. Or tried to. Then I saw him again and everything unraveled again.
This became my new routine and eventually I looked forward to unraveling.
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For a long time I assumed Lando and Max were together.
I never asked. Obviously.
It wasn't my business. But they were always together. And Max looked at him the way people look at someone they care about.
So I made assumptions.
Which was easier, because if Lando was unavailable, then there was no reason to think about him.
No reason to wonder “What if?” No reason to notice every time he walked into a room. No reason to miss my apex by a mile because my mind was on him instead of on the track.
Problem solved.
Except not really.
Because I missed the same apex a week later.
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I was certain I’d trapped myself in a permanent cycle. Then three days ago–
Something clicked.
The Shut In was coming up. Which meant graduation was coming up. Which meant I was running out of chances.
Three years of saying nothing suddenly felt a lot shorter when there was an end date attached to it.
I knew where Lando's first class was. I'd known for months.
So on Friday, I waited.
And this time when I saw those beautiful brown curls, I walked forward.
I don't know what I expected, but I just knew I had to do something.
“Lando, right?”
And from that moment on, I got Lando.
The real version. The version most people never saw.
This Lando was funny. A little chaotic, but thoughtful. He was terrible at hiding his feelings and good at pretending he was hiding them.
Every conversation made me want another one. Every interaction made me realize how much I'd missed by staying away.
By Saturday afternoon, I was finding reasons to keep him around. I just kept reaching the end of conversations and realizing I wasn't ready for them to be over.
Which was how he ended up in my room.
That’s how we found ourselves racing at the track that only me, my crew, and my family know about. That’s how I nearly showed all my cards at a diner that same night.
All of this not because I had a plan–
But because I just wanted another hour.
Then another.
Then another.
And somewhere in the span of 48 hours, I stopped wondering if I liked him. Because the answer had become obvious.
The real question became what to do about it.
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The second I heard the opening notes, my stomach dropped.
Because I knew that song. I knew those lyrics. I knew exactly what he was asking.
Or at least what he was trying to ask.
And suddenly I understood why he'd been nervous all night.
Why he'd kept looking away. Why he'd seemed terrified every time our eyes met. At first I’d thought it was because he’d finally realized how boring I am in comparison to him. I’d thought he’d grown tired of me – like how most people do when they get to know me.
So I was expecting the worst.
But when the song ended and the lights cut. When the crowd erupted around me. All I could think was–
Please let me get to him before he convinces himself I don't understand. Because if there was one thing I'd learned about Lando Norris over the last few days, it was that he had a remarkable talent for assuming the worst possible outcome.
And unfortunately for him–
I like him far too much to let him get away with that anymore.
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