Archive of Our Own

The music was blasting through the speaker towers. The beat dictating the pulse of his heart, bass thrumming low enough that he could feel his bones reverberating. He could feel himself sliding, noise drowning out all the thoughts in his head. The odour of sweat from other people’s bodies seemed to lose itself between puffs of smoke and vapes. The smell of weed was also present somewhere, but his mind was more preoccupied with preventing people from spilling drinks on his setup.

The room was illuminated by laser lights, blinking on and off to the unforgiving beat. People on the dancefloor were jumping to the music, some barely keeping up with the tempo in their drunken state. Shouts, whistles, swears, talks, everything was loud around him. Flashes of cameras and phones filming were in every corner of his vision. Guys had taken off their shirts, skin glistening with sweat, bumping into his sides. Girls were gripping at him, whispering sweet nothing into his ear, the adrenaline rush not letting him hear the exact words.

The DJ controller was splashed with alcohol, his fingers slipping while playing, but people didn’t care. The DVS gave him a cutting edge when he traced it, twisting it around to make the club lose its mind again. The headphones he was constantly wearing were playing previews of his samples and mixes, making him focus twice as hard to match the beats. Everyone was getting absorbed in the remixes of popular songs, any new change that he added made people scream, raising their hands into the sky, boots hitting against the floor.

The crowd which surrounded him was hyping him up. With every drop during the music, they were getting wild. Some were right next to him, barely leaving him space to DJ. Out of the corner of his eye he could see some people piggybacking, laughing uncontrollably with cups of gin in their hands. Someone was smoking a vape, someone was smoking a joint, someone was shoving vodka under his nose so he could have a sip. A nosebleed there, a dislocated finger here, glass on the floor digging into people's soles. People were losing more and more clothes because the room started to feel like a sauna. 

 He could feel his hands shaking with the barely contained energy. He reached under the controller for a can of monster, deciding to take a sip out of it to hopefully stop the trembling. He could feel the sweat running down his face, his shirt sticking to his frame, neck hurting from all the head bops he was doing. He had some glasses on that looked like they were from the 90’s so he would not get blinded by the lights. In general, he was doing everything automatically by now. The music silenced all the thoughts in his head, leaving only blank space that he grew so familiar with at the raves. He closed his eyes, letting himself feel the beat, the speakers destroying his eardrums.

Within that inner peace, surrounded by all the chaos, he felt a strong bump to his shoulder. He looked over the glasses, trying to spot who it was. Another DJ was on his right, motioning for him to take off his headphones. He slid one side off, still comparing samples on the other one. He leaned close to the man, hoping he would hear him in the crowd.

“Lando! I’m up in a minute. I will take over, prepare me a fadeout,” he shouted.

Lando just gave him a thumbs up. He started to compose the last part, clearing out the queue to make it easier for the other musician.

It was as if he had blinked and the minute had already passed. Soon the man was taking his spot, Lando barely managing to grab his monster from under the table. People didn’t even falter during the switch, dancing until their legs gave out. Norris tried to push past them, bopping to the beat to not bring the energy down. It took him a couple of good seconds to get to the doors, walking into an adjacent room hidden behind a black, noise cancelling curtain.

Immediately, he could feel the cold air caressing his skin. It wasn’t freezing, but definitely less stuffy than it was on the dance floor. The chill room was full of old, mismatched couches, tables with ashtrays filled to the brim. There were no places to sit down, all of them occupied. Most of the partygoers were drunk, animatedly talking with each other. He could see at least three people – if he counted correctly – passed out on sofas, sleeping soundly. Some couples in the corners were passionately making out, not that it surprised him. What surprised him was that the smell of pot was almost gone. He looked out the corridor and he could see where the main smoke room was. Or more like, could guess where the smoke room was because it looked like it was set on fucking fire.

Where he was standing, the people were calmer though. Surely, some who had just exited the dance room were still bouncing up and down, but would soon slot into the queue at the bar. Norris found it hard to try to hide his disgust once he looked at the price of one Jägerbomb. Seriously, how could people afford getting drunk in such places?

Lando took his glasses off, putting them loosely on the collar of his shirt. He tried to fix his hair by running a hand through it, yet all he could feel was sweat and the hairspray he used. The energy was running high, and the steps he took to get into one free armchair had a skip in them. He collapsed on the cushion, closing his eyes and exhaling loudly.

He had one hour before getting back to DJing. Hopefully – thanks to this break – he would be able to last more than an hour providing music for the party.

The night was already exhausting in a way that caused him to feel more spent than ever before. Stepping away from the stage and setup always reminded him of car engines. Hot and burning after a midnight drag race, slowly cooling off. It would tick, remembering the roar from mere moments ago. The temperature would fall down languidly, like adrenaline leaving his system. Then, the revving would start up again, returning tenfold. The car once more ready to race, to win. It was the same with Lando, perhaps with less mechanical parts, nevertheless like him. There was something addicting in that fluctuating rush that would leave him yearning for more. That’s why during nights like these, he would regret nothing, because there was nothing he would rather do other than this.

The energy, the people, the music, the atmosphere, the absurdity, the total disconnection from the boring, gray world that he lived during the day. Nothing could compare. Here, nobody cared how you danced, nobody cared how wasted you were, nobody cared how high you were. The skinheads were drinking margaritas. Gays sittting right next to them, rocking craziest of outfits. Hell, was that someone wearing cat ears with a tail attached to their back? And Lando wouldn’t care, because nobody else cared.

Everyone was here to be free and everyone was allowed to be free.

Lando thrived off that mantra. He was buzzing with how fucking good he was feeling. Perhaps that was the effect of a joint being smoked right next to him, but he couldn’t give a shit about that. He loved mixing with those questionable, mismatched, yet absolutely crazy crowds. He could walk up to anyone, ask for a deck and someone would even lend him their credit card to slice it. He ate up the attention of fans, lived for the screams and shouts, performed to be given the glory and recognition. Some people would call him an egoistic dickhead, but they must have their head up their own ass to not see the hypocrisy. Each and every person was a bit self-centred, so why couldn't he be?

That’s why he sprawled out on the armchair, his limbs making people trip when they were walking by. He pulled out his noise cancellers and put them in. He could still hear the music from the other room, could detect the low thrum of bass with how the furniture shook, but at least it was quieter. In these conditions, he might have started dozing off a little, not caring how much time had passed.

The monster he was holding onto was almost full. He was just one second away from dropping it in his half-asleep state, when someone knocked it out of his hand. The drink spilled out onto the floor and his jeans, immediately waking him up.

“Mate, what the fuck?!” Lando complained angrily, looking up at the… uh… men, which sat themselves right next to him.

They took place on arm supports on the nearby couches. One on his left, one on his right, effectively making him feel trapped in a way he didn't like.

“Sorry, that was an accident. We just want to talk," the older of the two said.

Lando pretended to wipe something from his mouth, giving him time to properly assess the strangers.

They didn't look like they belonged to this party. Jaws tight, eyes searching, an aura of tension surrounding them. One was tall, very tall, may Lando add. Body lean, posture straight as if he was in school class. Hair slicked back and blue, piercing irises. God, long lashes too. Was he some kind of a model? He looked as if he was in his late twenties, so a modelling job could still be possible.

The other man looked more like a teenager, if Lando were to be entirely honest. Eyes shining bright with some barely hidden excitement; hair ruffled, curly and looking like he forgot to comb it. A nervous smile was gracing his face, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do.

And they were wearing identical suits. Suits, can you imagine that? Black as the midnight sky, not one singular crease was present on them. Their boots were polished, shining under the low lights. Lando pressed the sole of his shoe on the young one’s boot, dirtying the expensive leather. The stranger squealed, while Norris picked up his can and drank the remains.

“Uh-huh. Your kid knows this is an eighteen plus, right?” he asked, eyeing the man who had spoken to him.

“I’m eighte-" the young boy started, but his companion quickly kicked him in the shin, “Ow!" 

“He's old enough. We are here to talk," the other replied coldly. Not even a flash of emotion on his face, while the youngster was hissing from pain.

“Yeah, you said," Lando glanced around the club, hoping that someone had noticed his predicament, yet no one was paying attention, “You interrupted my nap. Better hurry up cos I've got to get the party rolling in a few.”

“Right, so listen. Our boss, he-" the man started, but Lando brought a finger to his lips.

“Hold on, hold on. Maybe introduce yourself first?” Norris chuckled and silently hoped the nervousness of his voice went unheard in the chatter of other people. Perhaps he could try to stall for more time, not trusting the strangers.

“I’m Kim-!" the younger one got hit in the shin again, “Ow! I was being polite!" he complained to his partner, shoving his shoulder.

“Hm," the guy paid no mind to his antics, clearly getting annoyed not only with the kid but also with Lando, so much so that his eye twitched, “It doesn't matter. Now, coming back-”

“C’mon mate, I can't go up to your boss and say some British wanker was bitching about something. You either tell me the name or become a British wanker,” Lando leaned back, trying to smile smugly.

“Nooo…” the kid was flabbergasted, covering his mouth in shock. He leaned towards his companion, shaking him by the shoulders, “You can’t become a British wanker, George-"

“Oh my goodness, Kimi! You were better than this when we hired you,” the guy – George it seemed – held the bridge of his nose, shaking his head disapprovingly, “What's next? You will reveal my bank account information?”

“Actually, I do know your credit card-” Kimi couldn't finish because George grabbed a handful of tissues and shoved them into the kids mouth. The boy started coughing them up with a disgusted expression, "They were stained with alcohol, eww…" 

Lando watched the scene with slight amusement, taking another sip from his can. From time to time he was nervously glancing at the clock behind the bar counter. Five minutes until he was up. There was no way these guys would drag him somewhere now.

He was starting to get up carefully, hoping that the strangers wouldn't notice him advancing, fully absorbed in their little tirade. He was just about to fully stand, when a foot tripped his leg, making him fall roughly on the couch.

A fist tightly twisted into his shirt, pulling him forwards. He could feel the breath of George on his neck, while he himself was forced to stare right above his shoulder. Kimi was staring at him intensely, leaning on the arm support. A wide smile spread across his face, eyes shining with some twisted innocence. Lando had no idea what made him grin so brightly. As much as Norris tried to focus on the young man, words, cold as ice, were being whispered into his ear.

“Listen here, you little shit. You are going to do what I say, or you can expect a bullet in your head the moment you play your shitty music,” George was millimeters away from him. Lando could feel something cold, hard and definitely metallic pressed against his stomach, he didn't even dare to imagine what it could be, “See? You are so nice when you are not being a whiny bitch. We will walk out of this club using the second entrance. You will not look at anyone, you will not speak to anyone. If someone dares to speak to us, you say we are going to take a piss. Understood?” Lando weakly nodded, “Good. Who's being a wanker now, you bitc-”

“Lando?”

The two strangers slowly turned around to the source of the voice, clearly annoyed. The pressing weight on Lando’s stomach disappeared, George almost unnoticeably hiding the item back into his suit’s inner pockets. The grip on Norris’ shirt lessened, allowing him to straighten up a little.

He could feel how pale his face was, fingers shaking. The cold sweat was back again, this time accompanied with lightheadedness. The words died in his throat, as he was staring at one of the DJs from the club. The threat was still loud in his head. It took George secretly stepping on his toes to get him to talk again, the pain kicking Lando's brain back into action.

“Y-yeah? What’s up, mate?” his voice was wavering, filled with unfiltered fear. The other man didn't notice, almost not hearing the quiet words in the mix of other people’s talks.

“Two minutes. Sorry I have to drag you away, but you have to go,” the musician was staring at him, completely unaware of what was taking place.

George smiled suddenly, giving a pat on Lando’s back as if they were good friends.

“That’s fine! Go crazy, Lando!” the man almost pushed him off the couch. Norris barely managed to find his balance in time, “We see you in an hour!”

Kimi just waved at him, the innocent smile not dropping even for one second.

Lando quickly walked away, pushing through the crowds.

The dance floor was still packed. The DJ that took over was looking around, upon spotting Lando, he quickly motioned him to hurry up.

Norris swallowed the spit that gathered at the corner of his mouth. He felt nauseous, as if he was suffering from an awful hangover. His skin felt loose on his body, like it didn’t fit him anymore. Every touch of someone from the crowd was making him flinch. Step by step, it was like he was diving deeper, deeper and deeper. The stuffiness was suffocating him, the breaths he took not providing enough oxygen. When he touched his setup, the sliders were like edges of knives, digging into his skin.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see him. That lithe silhouette. What was his name? Kimi? He was standing between the two entrances to the dance floor, eyes following Lando’s every move. He was still smiling playfully. Was he really finding this so funny?

Without even wasting a thought on what he was doing, Lando took out his noise cancellers. It almost made no difference, the music was blurred even without them. He put on his headphones, eyes not leaving his ever-present tormentor. For a couple of seconds he was just looking at him, fearing that one wrong move would turn this party into a bloodbath. The DJ which was previously playing snapped his fingers in front of Lando’s face, bringing him out of trance.

Norris meekly nodded, because what was he supposed to do? He boosted up the bass to the max, people roaring, screaming. The crowd started jumping around him again, welcoming him back in the chaos. Cans of energy drinks were sizzling, sprayed everywhere.

Lando could feel the adrenaline returning, forever an addict. If he was meant to go out with a bang, he better do it in style.

The minutes ticked by. His muscles were screaming with how tense they were. The shirt was soaking with sweat. It felt like he could pass out at any second. He looked at the clock in the corner of his laptop, 23:49. Eleven minutes until god knows what. Maybe he could sneak away before it hits a full hour? Send someone to get the next DJ a bit earlier? That wouldn’t work, would it? Kimi was still standing by the wall, moving his head to the music. George was nowhere to be seen.

Nobody would pay attention to Lando after he finished playing. Normally he would be allowed to go home freely, with no distractions. But now? There were two little devils waiting for him. The moment he stops playing, he’s leaving himself vulnerable. They would catch him and drag him off somewhere to their boss or sell his organs, he doesn’t even know anymore.

His mind was running with different solutions, each one worse than the previous one. The clock was ticking, 23:56. The next DJ didn’t come close to him yet, meaning he still had time. His heart was beginning to race, not in a good way. Some form of trepidation was sneaking into his head. The buttons in front of him were getting blurry and he wasn’t sure if it was caused by the tears that were gathering in his eyes.

Midnight was approaching and he could see the smile from across the dance floor.

Someone bumped strongly into him. Lando let out an uneven breath, it had to be the other DJ. He lifted his glistening eyes to see him, but the person he saw wasn’t one that he recognized. It was a man which he definitely hadn’t seen in the club before. His skin was pale, not terribly but surely lighter than average. It was also dotted with moles here and there. A little taller than Lando, very similar in his build. Hair combed to the sides, short and neatly styled. Though Norris couldn’t tell what the colour of his eyes were with lights flashing constantly, he could see them intensely observing him.

What made Lando a bit suspicious of him, was the way he was dressed. It was very similar to the other two strangers, except he had abandoned the suit jacket. White collar shirt tugging at his sides, donned with some tasteful braces. There were also some orange touches decorating his outfit. A little blotch of colour near a pocket, underneath the collar, the cufflinks… Either way, he was overdressed for a rave like this.

The man seemed unbothered that he bumped into the musician and shamelessly leaned in to whisper to his ear. What was up with people doing that to him all day?

“Norris?” he just asked and waited until Lando gave a hum of confirmation, “Are you free tonight?”

What the fuck. What the fuck had this day become.

“Why do you ask?” Lando replied, taking his headphones off and focusing with all his might on what the man had been saying.

“Because I don’t like sharing, and I could use a one-on-one dance partner tonight. I’m too tired of dancing with him,” and that was all the man had said.

Next, he leaned back and started jumping around with the crowd, the serious look on his face gone. Lando looked at him for a couple of seconds before plopping on his headphones again and rethinking what had been said. Him. There was only one ‘him’ that Norris could think about right now. He firstly glanced at the clock, 23:59, he should start preparing the fadeout. Then, he scanned the area for Kimi and his heart started racing again when he saw the boy pushing through the crowd, coming towards him.

There was no time to think. When the next DJ tapped his shoulder, one could say he basically bolted from the booth. Lando wasted no time in gripping the new, mysterious man by his arm and dragging him away from Kimi.

“Yeah! We have to dance! You look hot baby, let’s go!” Lando shouted above the screeches of the crowd. Kimi almost got to him, but they managed to pull away and step into the most dense parts of the dance floor, “I'm free all night!”

The man seemed to get his message, digging into a big group of people, tightly holding onto Lando. They started swaying to the sides a little, trying to blend in.

“We can get out easily, we lost him” the guy said, bringing Norris closer as if they were dancing a waltz.

“No. There’s two of them, the other one has a g-gun and is wandering around,” Lando tried to not let his ego dip with how he stuttered.

“That’s not good. We can wait around until people start leaving the party. They shouldn’t approach us while we are in public,” the man whispered back.

To any onlookers, it must’ve looked quite strange. The DJ and some random formally dressed dude sharing some gossip in the middle of the dance floor. At least both of them tried to keep swinging to the sides, not wanting to stick out like a sore thumb.

A couple of minutes passed like that, Lando and his saviour pretending that they were still having fun. When Norris realized that Kimi and George were nowhere to be seen, he felt sick to his stomach. Any second, all it took was a well aimed shot to his head and he would be dead. Bleeding out while everyone partied around him. Didn’t seem like that bad of a death, but that didn’t mean Lando wanted to die that day.

For all that, what did surprise him was the mysterious man. Despite being in the worst possible scenario to watch over someone because they might get fucking kidnapped, he was doing a great job. Dancing a bit side to side, perhaps looking only a little like a stiff doll. He had a tight grasp on Lando's hand, not even once letting go and he was looking around from time to time, scanning the crowd. The fear that overcame Lando earlier was gone, now replaced with some fragile feeling of protection.

Norris took a step closer to his companion, arm around his shoulder so he could talk with him without shouting.

“What’s your name?”

The guy seemed a bit confused by the question, almost as if he had not expected it.

“Oscar.”

And with that:

The lights went out.

The music abruptly stopped. Shouts and curses were yelled in the dark. Even the emergency exit signs were not glowing (because who cared for safety regulations in such a place?)

The lack of music seemed loud. The abused eardrums took their sweet time to readjust to the sudden change. It wasn’t completely silent though, soon boos were heard. Drunk people were stumbling, not seeing where they were going, Lando could feel people constantly bumping into him. Oscar was still holding him tightly.

“Lando. This is our chance, we will head towards the exit carefully,” there was no doubt in his voice, the sentence hushed.

Next, Norris could feel himself being dragged somewhere, god knows where. The flashlights of phones started appearing, but Oscar was masterfully avoiding them, not wanting to be seen.

They were almost at the main exit of the room, but suddenly, gun shots rang out.

Oscar pulled Norris down sharply, making him crouch. A finger was pressed to his mouth, a silent sign to keep quiet.

People screamed, ducking away and falling onto the floor. Cups and glasses of drinks were dropped, spilling everywhere. For as long as the screeches lasted, they all came to a halt when a familiar voice appeared:

“Listen everyone, we don't want to shoot again,” it was George, standing atop of the DJ setup. His gun was pointed upwards, dust from the ceiling falling onto his pristine jacket.

Lando could recognize his voice, but his face was covered with a black balaclava. Kimi was standing under him with a mask on, pointing a flashlight towards the crowd, scanning it. The eyes of everyone involved were filled with fear, many were whimpering, begging even. Kimi didn’t pay attention to any of that, making his way through the people.

“We are searching for Lando. You know who that is…” George continued, bringing the gun down and pointing it towards the crowd.

Wherever it was aiming, many would scramble away from it, like vampires hiding away from the sunlight.

Norris was frozen, scenes from a little more than an hour ago repeating in his head. The threat was real, very much real and it definitely wasn’t empty either. He couldn’t move, the fear of being hurt or dead rendering him useless.

“-ndo,” it took a gentle voice to bring him out of his stupor, “We are moving, come on.”

Oscar started shuffling silently on the floor, bringing Norris with him. Lando was very lucky he wasn't the only one wearing neon clothes, making him mix with other colourful outfits.

Kimi was getting closer to the end of the room, the distance between him and his prey getting smaller and smaller.

Oscar was moving his arm in front of him like a blind man walking, trying to feel where he was going. Disgusted a bit at how much fluids he stumbled upon, but everything was better than being found.

“Norris, if you don't know his name! Because either he goes with me or I start shooting blindly!”

They managed to get to the main exit, covered with the same black curtains that lead to the adjacent bar. Oscar felt something metallic under his fingers, sensing that it was some kind of can. He carefully grasped it with a free hand, testing its weight.

“Lando,” he whispered, “Once you will hear a loud noise, we make a run for-”

“C’mon Lando… Now who is hiding like a wanker?” the tedious voice teased in the background.

“He’s going to shoot innocent people,” Norris replied back to Oscar, his voice quiet, shaking. He could feel his hand trembling terribly, “We can’t leave-”

“No,” Oscar bit back sternly, leaving no room for arguments, “He’s bluffing. You run after me. They will chase after us and leave others alone.”

“But-”

“No buts. We are going.”

Quickly and quite stiffly Oscar hugged Lando from the side. Long enough to bring comfort, but not long enough to get comfortable.

Right after that, Oscar threw the can across the room, making it crash on the other side. It clattered loudly, Kimi immediately pointing the flashlight in its direction. George redirected the gunpoint, eyes focusing instantly.

With that small distraction, Oscar and Lando took off.

They rushed through the curtains, running blindly ahead. It seemed like some drunken people that were in nearby rooms tried to get out of the club with their phones lighting the way. They were the only source of illumination that worked as a guideline for where they were going.

As the two of them were part way through across the corridor, gunshots rang out again accompanied with shouts of ‘get out of the way’ and similar call-outs. People screamed, sounds of moving feet loud in the otherwise silent building.

Before they entered the staircase that led to the club, Lando glanced behind him, seeing almost nothing in the dark. One second later, Kimi emerged from the curtains, pointing the light at them.

Oscar opened the staircase doors which gave out a metallic screech.

“You first!” he shouted to Lando, harshly pushing him forward with one hand.

Norris could barely see the steps and decided to just blindly run down. Twisting an ankle was better than being dead after all.

Oscar was not far away behind him, slamming the doors shut, fiddling with a metal lock. Lando was half a story beneath him, waiting for him to join nervously. He could see the flashlight shining through the windows of the door, getting brighter every second.

The lock finally snapped shut, but just when Oscar wanted to let out a small celebratory whoop, the glass shattered.

A bullet went through the window. Sharp shards cut Oscar's skin as he barely managed to close his eyes.

“Fuck!” he screamed, tightly holding onto his left bicep.

The man took almost no time to recover. Sprinting away from the door, right as Kimi slammed into it in vain hope of taking the lock out. When the metal gate didn’t budge, the kid reached with his arm through the broken window, fiddling with the catch. Just seconds later, George emerged from the darkness behind his companion. Carefully, he snuck the gun near Kimi, eyes cold and focused on Oscar making his way down the staircase.

He pressed the trigger. Lando grasped one of the braces Oscar was wearing, and pulled him a couple steps lower. The bullet hit the wall.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon!” Norris was yelling repeatedly, dragging his companion behind him.

The race down the stairs was the most chaotic thing Lando had ever participated in. The shouts from the assaulters were echoing down the room. The light Lando had from his phone's wallpaper – no, not from the flashlight because he didn’t have the time to find it – was hardly helping him navigate. Oscar seemed to be barely keeping his balance making his way downwards. Last but not least, Lando had no idea where the fuck to go.

When they finally made it outside, it didn’t get any better. The entire street was dark. No light. No street lamps. No cars driving around. Pure darkness. The rest of the city of Monaco was shining far away in the distance, but it wouldn’t lend its bright light to the avenues that surrounded the two of them. It was way too silent for his liking too. Used to loud parties and even louder music, the low whisper of danger still hanging over his head was uncanny in its own way. Now, he was only accompanied by the quietness of the world around and the laboured breathing of Oscar.

It took a couple of seconds for Lando to realize he hadn’t exactly taken a breath in a while too. His throat was tight once again and the cold, night air that made its way into his lungs didn’t bring him any comfort. Wiping the sweat off his forehead, he finally activated the proper flashlight, pointing it at Oscar.

God, he shouldn’t have done that.

The man covered his face using his right arm to protect himself from the flash, but the left one… The entire sleeve of his white shirt was stained with blood. A gaping hole in the cloth’s fabric and no doubt in the man’s tissue too.

“Shit, you good?” Yeah, smart thing to ask, Lando.

“I ugh- …will be. We’ve to shoot through. You know where the cemetery is? We will head through Guelfes, got it?” Oscar replied, walking up to Norris and speaking much more quietly.

Lando merely nodded and started following the man leading the way.

They decided for a quite a quick march. Oscar was in no state to be running, or maybe he was? The pace he set was brutal and consistent, even Lando felt like he had to constantly catch up and he was the one with the flashlight. The man walked like he knew the city inside out. It was somehow reminding Lando of a black cat. Quiet, elegant, calm and once the night would set, absolutely unseen. Unconsciously it seemed, avoiding street lamps even if they weren’t glowing. Moving through the streets like a ghost. Blood dripping down the pavement.

At first, it was sensible to keep the conversations to minimum, reduced to directions. All the same, as they were getting more far away the threat seemed less pressing. They had not heard anymore gunshots, shouts, nothing. It would be stupid to assume they were completely safe. Backdoors existed and alternate exits of the club. George and Kimi definitely seemed to be very set on getting to Lando.

That made his queasy. Nauseous.

And desperate for answers.

“Do you… know those people?” Lando asked, voice hesitant, now feeling unsure if he wants the real answers.

“Yes,” came the curt reply.

“What-...” Norris had to lick his lips, his throat suddenly feeling dry, “What do they want from me?”

“Long story,” another clipped answer.

“What do you want from me?” That question was filled with an undeniable amount of suspicion.

It shouldn’t be surprising really. Two guys were after him, why not make it three? There was nothing that could guarantee that Oscar had good intentions.

The man seemed to detect Lando’s hesitance, slowing down his walk and ducking into a small side alley of Guelfes Avenue.

“Can you shine down there?” Oscar asked, pointing somewhere at the wall.

Lando did as he was told.

There was a small, black garbage bag there, blending in with the trash surrounding it. Oscar crouched next to it, awkwardly trying to get it open with one arm functional. At the end he just ripped it and started taking out various things, interlacing what he was doing with bits of dialogue.

“I guess you are entitled to that information”, he took out a suit jacket, “Recently, there had been a power change in Monaco. Heaps of allies became enemies, enemies became friends. No one knows where anyone is standing anymore,” a first-aid kit, “The people on top are searching for possible rats,” a wallet, “it seems your name appeared somewhere in the ‘informer section,’” a gun.

Lando took a step back, pointing the flash right at Oscar's face, making him squint his eyes.

“And where do you play a part?” he demanded coldly.

Oscar didn’t even flinch at the voice.

“I’m a freelancer. Hired by someone to keep you safe. Let’s just say I’m keeping dibs on you because you are quite popular around this city, Lando Norris,” those last two words were dripping with irony, “People know you and you know people. That’s what got Merc interested in you.”

“Merc?”

“An organised crime group, you might know them as AMG or Petronas. In reality all of those connected make the full name, but it’s less important,” Oscar sat down on the dirty ground, carefully rolling his bloody sleeve upwards, “George and Kimi are agents under their wing. I assume the plan was to force you to work with them. Seems like things went a bit askew.”

Oscar took out from the first aid-kit a tourniquet. Lando approached a little bit, examining the wound. It was better than he had thought for a bullet wound. The projectile didn’t embed itself in the flesh, but nicked quite deeply, tearing off bits of tissue. It was still bleeding profusely, though nothing compared to how it was at first. Oscar awkwardly shuffled the band right above the wound and tightened it strongly. He hissed at the sensation, however the pain was worth it, because slowly but steadily the bleeding lessened. Next, he took a black marker out of the kit and looked at Lando pointedly.

“What hour is it?” he asked.

“Uh, half after midnight.”

Oscar messily scribbled down the hour above the tourniquet, capped the marker and brought the sleeve down. With no small amount of trouble, he put his jacket on. It covered most of the blood stained tee, though red was peaking sometimes from underneath the fabric. The man put his wallet away and picked up the gun. Seamlessly, he attached it to a linen loop which held onto his left brace. The firearm tucked neatly underneath his armpit, making it impossible to spot.

“Now, Lando…” Oscar began, “We have to stay quiet for a day or two. I’m literally contractually obliged to keep an eye on you. So, you choose: my place or yours?”

“You are kidding mate,” Lando replied, the whole situation utterly ridiculous to him, “I ain’t going anywhere with you.”

“It’s either that or you get left alone with two professional agents chasing you without any sort of protection,” the man shrugged.

Lando mulled over his words. This situation was nowhere near ideal. He didn’t want to meet the other guys again. It was safe to assume they would not be so nice and polite as they were today. Perhaps if he went with them without any complaint immediately this whole row would have gone a lot more smoothly, but at the same time, he really wasn’t looking forward to being kidnapped. Lando will definitely not come back to those Merc guys under his own reign.

On the other hand, what the hell was he supposed to do now? Run away from Oscar? Who surely wouldn’t catch up with how injured he was, but had the definite advantage of a literal gun by his side. Running away seemed to be out of the contention.

He needed protection, as much as Norris hated to admit that. He didn’t have a gun at home, heck, he can sock someone one in the stomach or face, except if any weapon came into the play, he would be a dead man. Oscar at least seemed to know how to pick a fight and in Lando’s current situation that could be very useful.

Except, he would never invite a stranger to his house in the middle of the night. Well, he would. But in an entirely different setting of course.

“Yours. We can head to yours.”

And with that, they started walking again.

The lights were still off. Darkness surrounding them. Nobody was walking down the streets, the ruffles of trees filling the silence. Somewhere far away, the hum of the harbour was present. Somewhere far away, a car revved loudly. Where they were at though? It was calm.

Lando could feel the cold seeping into his skin, his jacket left at the club. He felt icky. Sweat dried on his skin, bits of blood colouring his hands. His nose stayed very sensitive even after leaving the smoke filled party.

As much as the tension of the entire night didn’t completely fade away, he felt more at peace. Walking down with Oscar, now alongside him. Despite the man being also capable of shooting him at point blank, it felt different, more safe. The guy got paid to protect him for fucks sake, he wouldn’t hurt him now.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lando tried to observe Oscar. He wasn't old, maybe even a bit younger than Lando himself. A man in his twenties, with that shadow of tiredness underneath his eyes. His loose strands of hair that were falling onto his forehead seemed to sway with every step he took. Eyes focused on the road ahead. Curved jawline and wide neck. Muscles of his arms visible underneath the jacket.

Yeah, Lando kinda wished they truly danced in that club.

Oscar noticed him staring, eyes darting to Norris for a split second. Faintly, a corner of his mouth went upwards and it felt like a personal win to Lando.

It took roughly fifteen minutes to come close to the Monegasque cemetery. It was just a couple of road crossings ahead. Lando was prepared to jaywalk towards the destination, because there was no traffic so late into the night, but Oscar stopped him by grabbing his arm.

“Look. Taxi,” he pointed in the direction of a petrol station.

It was the only thing that had actually working lights. One at the gas pump and the other coming from the headlights of the taxi parked there.

Oscar started walking quickly in its direction. The car turned on its left indicator and started moving, which made Oscar sprint towards it, still holding onto Lando’s arm. He stepped in front of its hood, effectively stopping it.

There were two people inside as much as he could see. He rounded the car to stand next to the driver's window, waiting for it to roll down. With slight hesitance, he grasped the gun underneath the jacket. One could never be too sure those weren’t some Merc guys. Lando in the meantime stood awkwardly behind him, not really sure what to do.

“What do you want?” said the driver, clearly irritated.

“We need a lift,” Oscar replied. Wasn’t it obvious?

The driver did a once-over of him, the same with Lando like he was calculating the risks.

“Sorry, but I already have a client,” the man lazily replied, but Oscar could see his finger nervously hovering over the window button.

Norris heard some footsteps far away, noises of conversations getting closer. It made him look around anxiously.

“Listen, you have to take us somewhere right now. I’ll pay double,” Oscar argued and tried to get another word in, yet the driver cut in:

“Nope.”

The tires screeched and the engine roared. On instinct, Oscar grabbed Lando, pulling him away. They almost got hit, thankfully nothing happened but it was close.

“Shit,” the agent cursed, hearing people talking in the distance, “C’mon, we have to go.”

They both started making their way north, upping their pace. Oscar took out his gun briefly, feeling safer with it in his hand. The taxi driver drove once again next to them and he could feel the judgmental look he was sending their way. They managed to get away from the approaching noises, no longer able to hear them in the background.

Soon, the apartment buildings of Monaco started to fade away, as more private homes started appearing. Expensive cars started becoming a rarity, dominated on the streets by parked Renaults or Alfa Romeos. Trash was laying on the side walks, the road quality got a bit worse.

Lando didn’t recognize this part of the city, preferring to stay in Monte-Carlo rather than the French outskirts.

But there was light. The street lamps were working. In some houses the rooms were lit. This part wasn’t affected by the outage. He happily turned his phone flashlight off, seeing that he still had ten percent of his battery in case of a bad scenario.

Oscar was leading him somewhere hidden away. They went into a more closed off neighbourhood. It wasn’t luxurious by any chance, with buildings that certainly hadn’t been renovated in years. Cats were skidding around the shadows, a dog barked once or twice.

They approached a small home. It was… atmospheric, Lando decided. A bit rundown for sure, but it fit perfectly between the more expensive houses nearby. Hidden beneath a coat of ivy, standing under the shadows of surrounding trees and bushes. It still had that Monegasque style. Brightly painted, surrounded by cobble walls, steps leading up to the entrance, red tiles adorning the roof. There were some dead plants left on the windowsills as if someone had forgotten about them. An old bike behind the fence. A black MINI Cooper standing underneath a small shed, missing a wheel. It was kinda cute.

Oscar took out his wallet and from it he grabbed two keys. With one, he opened the gate and waved Lando in. With the second one he opened the door of the house.

The interior was small, cosy and old. The furniture was made out of wood, the lights were glowing warmly, potted plants were in every corner. Just after stepping through the threshold, Lando found himself in the living room with a connected kitchen. There was no TV, only two dusty leather couches. The walls were decorated with paintings and framed pieces of newspapers. One of them proudly stated “Mr. Monaco’s heroic comeback” in bold letters, dating back to 1969. Norris stared at it for a couple of seconds, before resuming to assess the place.

The building reminded him of his granny's house. It had that smell of oldschool trinkets and baked pie waiting for him. The couches were covered by some old blankets, the carpets on the floor were definitely older than him or Oscar.

The kitchen had a gas stove and a fridge that looked like it came from war times. The best things were the curtains with floral patterns, which Oscar quickly drew, refusing to let anyone see on the inside. The man also picked up a kettle and filled it with water, although he struggled to open the tap, seemingly rusty. He placed it on the stove and put it under a high heat. A shiver seemed to run down Oscar, having to brace himself on the counters. He looked at the kettle for a silent moment before looking over his shoulder at Lando.

Damn, was he staring again?

“Make yourself at home. The bathroom is the first door on the left.”

Right. Perhaps he was staring.

He took that as his cue to leave the man alone. Lando tiptoed off his shoes, placing them near the entrance. No use angering the host with terrible manners.

The doors to the bathroom squeaked and Lando could only stare at the state of the room. It wasn’t… horrible. Tolerable, at best. Pipes were sticking out, cobwebs decorated the corners, plaster was coming off the walls. At least the shower seemed to look okay. There were damp patches behind the glass cabin, sure, but the showerhead looked newly bought. Lando opened the doors to the cabin, there was soap, conditioner, a 1-in-5 shower gel… He would be stretching the truth saying the house was lived in, yet he wouldn’t call it abandoned either.

It was a little after one in the morning when he stepped into the shower. The pressure was bad, but not horrible. The water itself smelled like rust and other metallic things he couldn’t name, thankfully it wasn’t coloured orange. The temperature balance was also way off, except he didn’t really mind that.

The boiling water was flowing down his skin, rinsing all the dirt from the day before. The sweat, the alcohol, the blood. All went down the drain. It felt weird, seeing it all flow away, as if everything was a bad nightmare. Maybe he will wake up soon. Find himself on that scrappy armchair in the club, minutes short of his next performance. Maybe Kimi and George were just normal party goers, who decided matching suits would be their iconic move of the night. Maybe Oscar was a simple, hot and enticing guy, who wanted to dance the night away with him.

Lando would really love to have that dance with him.

Except the water started running cold and that was not a nice anchor that brought him back to earth.

He grabbed a random towel from a nearby counter which he deemed clean enough. Drying himself off and stopping short just before he wanted to dress up in the same clothes again. He went to the bathroom door, knocking on it quite loudly.

“Oscar!” he shouted, “You’ve got any spare shirts or something like that?”

Lando could hear rushed footsteps from behind the door. It took half a minute before they opened and he received pieces of cloth.

“Thanks…” he murmured, examining his new outfit.

A black hoodie and… cream shorts? What was this? Summer?

With a quiet exhale, he put them on. Not like he had a choice really. They were a bit tight for him, but not enough to be uncomfortable. They were similar in size afterall. Just to finish getting sorted out, Lando shamelessly searched through a toilet bag which was left on the floor. It looked like it was Oscar’s. One toothbrush and toothpaste, one comb and a chocolate-flavoured deodorant. Nothing else. Right…

Lando swiftly grabbed the deodorant and applied it, thinking he already used all the warm water he might as well hurry up and free up the bathroom.

He leaned out of the door, looking left and right across the small corridor, Oscar was nowhere to be seen. He could hear quiet rustling coming from the living room, just behind the corner. He stepped closer, eavesdropping, trying not to make himself known.

Oscar was cursing and breathing heavily. Something was splashing down the floor. Lando swallowed and looked into the living room.

The man was sitting on the floor with his back prepped against the couch. He had his shirt off, thrown somewhere to the side, leaving it to stain cushions red. He had taken off the tourniquet, a pale, bruised line clear where it was previously placed on his skin. ‘00:30’ written right above it, it was 01:25 now. The wound underneath it started bleeding again, not strongly, however still intensely enough for a small spout to form. Lando could see where the bullet cut the deepest flesh, a sight which he really wasn’t appreciating. Oscar's entire arm was coated in red, not even speaking about the mess he made on the floor.

And that wasn’t the only thing that he left on it. Apart from the blood, there were the essentials he brought with him and a miniature of some spirit. His gun, most importantly, was taken apart on a small coffeetable, Lando assuming it was disarmed.

He carefully rounded the corner of one of the couches, putting his clothes on one of the arm supports. Oscar didn’t seem to notice him, too busy sitting with head down, sweat rolling down his forehead.

Only when Lando spoke, did he finally snap his attention to him:

“You need help mate?”

It was a simple question. Lando standing above Oscar, who at that moment was completely defenceless. The man looked at him from under half-lidded eyes, the tiredness on his face making him older than he truly was. For a second, Lando thought he would actually fall asleep staring at him, but Oscar grabbed and tossed the miniature using his uninjured arm. Norris barely caught it, once he did, he read the etiquette: ‘Rectified spirit, 96% ABV’.

“Disinfect, please.”

“Hell naw, mate.”

“It will not hurt that much.”

“It’s literally pure alcohol, it will melt down your skin.”

“I’m not stoked about it either, but I have nothing better.”

“Bullshit,” Lando hissed.

He placed the little bottle next to Oscar’s head, who groaned loudly. He tried to get up only to be pushed down by Lando back to his place.

“Stay. I’ll search for something better,” Oscar only rolled his eyes at that, nonetheless he politely stayed put.

“Grab the sewing kit while you are at it. Upper cupboard.”

Lando did actually listen to that, finding a tiny sewing kit with a bunch of needles and thin threads. He was opening drawers left and right, trying to find anything that could replace the spirit. There were spatulas, silverware, scissors (he threw them next to Oscar, might come in handy later), toothpicks… and a surprising amount of Tim Tams packages. Weren’t they produced in Australia or New Zealand?

Finally, ignoring those weird distractions, he opened the fridge. Water bottles, one or two apples, one milk, two eggs, bread and coconut covered cake. Lando was starting to think he was sharing a room with a psychopath. To his surprise, in a pocket of the fridge door there were some plasters and most importantly a small bottle of disinfectant. Oh, how that sight made him happy. He checked the expiration date, 2022. Three years is not a lot, right?

“Got it,” Lando informed, showcasing his treasure to Oscar.

The man only gave him a thumbs up, tired smile barely appearing on his face.

Lando rushed to his side, kneeling next to him. He had to move the coffee table to the side a little bit to make space for himself. He laid out what he deemed was useful within arms reach like a surgeon with his tools.

The amount of blood Oscar lost within the last two hours was mildly concerning. Lando couldn’t be too sure – he wasn’t a doctor after all – but it definitely wasn’t good, that was a guarantee.

Oscar leaned a bit on his uninjured side, helping Lando have better access to the wound. Norris tightened his jaw, focused on what was in front of him and took the spray in his hand. He will sprinkle the destroyed tissue with the expired disinfectant and it would all be perfectly okay… Wait.

“Wait. I need to wash my hands.”

“Really, now?”

“I’m gonna take just a second!”

He rushed to the bathroom and jogged back a while later. With newfound vigor, he started disinfecting the wound. Oscar hissed at the sensation. Eyes tightly shut, teeth grinding against each other. His body tensed terribly, trying to scurry away from the pain. A white foam appeared on the damaged flesh, burning away the bacteria. With every new drop of the liquid, the pain was getting less stinging. At the end, Oscar was breathing heavily, sweat once again starting to coax his skin. Lando found a tissue and cleaned the area around the gash, looking carefully for even one speck of dust that could have hid beneath a layer of torn skin. Deciding that was not the case, he let out a sigh of relief.

“Do you know how to close the wound?” Oscar asked, suspicion creeping into his voice.

“No, not really. I never put on stitches or whatever you call it,” he took the needle in his fingers, eyeing how it glistened underneath the soft light.

“Okay, then no. You are not putting stitches on me,” the man replied with a serious tone, but Lando took it personally.

“Whaaat. C’mon mate. You are like… a raw chicken. I can do that eas-” and Lando cut off.

Because Oscar started laughing. It wasn’t a loud, booming laugh, one that you would hear during comedy shows or stand ups. It was light, unguarded. His head tipped backwards, eyes looking at the ceiling. His white teeth were showing and small dimples appeared on his cheeks.

Lando couldn’t find the power to look away. Just for that split second, he was completely lost. He could feel how he started grinning too, eyes shining with some unspoken sparkle. He eyed Oscar, how his posture changed, how those lines from tiredness faded away, how the moles on his neck made beautiful constellations. He looked a bit like him. A young adult who would like to be somewhere else, where they could leave all their troubles at home.

Norris could feel heat rising to his cheeks, he rubbed at them with a heel of his hand, hoping Oscar didn’t notice when the chuckles lessened.

“A raw chicken? Is that how I look?” Oscar questioned, tone lighthearted, like melody to Lando's ears.

“I mean- You are quite pale!” he responded back, still giggling a little bit.

Oscar just shook his head to that comment and started slowly getting back up. Lando wanted to help him, but was waved off instead. The man was clutching his injured arm close to his body, which was still tainted with red. He leaned down to pick up his discarded shirt, while Norris tried to pointedly not look at his toned back.

He had to admit that, no surprise, the agent was fit. No one in the world would deny that. Silhouette slim and lean, but what one wouldn’t expect was what was hiding under that black suit. He looked like a proper athlete, not even mentioning the moles on his skin. They looked like they were put there by a professional artist. Every little dot placed perfectly to create a masterpiece. How much Lando wished he could trail his hands down that body-

“-ndo. You can make tea, the water is already boiled.”

Snap back to reality, Lando!

“Oh-! Yeah, yeah, I will. I can take the couch by the way,” he mumbled quickly, turning his back to Oscar, not letting him see his rosy cheeks.

“I just told you… We need to be in the bedroom. The window is not facing the road there,” the agent explained slowly, as if Lando was a five year old that needed to analyse every single word.

“Right, right. I’ll go there uhh- soon.”

Norris couldn’t see, but Oscar nodded. After that he heard a couple of steps and the bathroom door closing. Only then had he turned, dragging his fingers through his curls. He looked around the small room, suddenly feeling out of place. Without the other man with him, the situation seemed stranger than it was.

Being in a random house, having an impromptu sleepover.

And Oscar.

He had no idea what he thought about the man. He should be suspicious of him, cautious with every step made and information revealed. The circumstances in which they met should give him enough reason to not like the man. He was an agent for gods sake. He has a literal gun lying a couple meters away from Lando. He should be that cold, unmoving bastard which would bark out orders and point his weapon everywhere without any caution. Like George or Kimi.

Yet all he got was a pretty boy with a pretty smile and a pretty face. Someone who lived in a granny’s house with groceries barely bought. Someone who seemed to sneak in snacks between his meals. Someone who laughed at the stupidest joke Lando has ever told. Perhaps it was Halo Effect, but fuck if devil in disguse looks like an angel, then he was doomed.

That’s why he wasn’t running away either, Lando guessed.

Because he felt safe and protected. Something that this city rarely offered.

He chuckled a bit, not believing the way his heart started to jump at the thought of the boy. It was silly, he told himself. There was no love or crush that he had not grown out of.

It was only a matter of time, it had to be.

That was the reason why he poured the water into the sink. Put a random cup on the counter. Pretended he made himself at home.

Yet when he laid down in the double bed and tried to fall asleep he couldn’t. The darkness seemed more scary than before, the air colder than every other night. He heard the bedroom door open and close, a couple minutes shy after he had laid down. Soft, padded feet made their way across the room, rustling clothes filling the silence. A quiet sound of a phone being plugged to a charger, an exhausted sigh breathed out.

Then there was a click of a gun.

Lando could feel the stare at the back of his head, being turned away to face the wall. He wondered how many times Oscar had done this before. How many times he had to pretend he cared. How many times had he risked his life to save a stranger who was nothing to him. How many times had he got his wounds cleaned by someone. How many times had he genuinely laughed when they told him a joke.

How many times had these bedsheets been covered in blood after a too naïve person had been fooled by that pretty smile.

Lando would love to dance with Oscar. To feel the beat, to be there, to genuinely make him laugh, to be alive.

The gun clicked again and Lando could hear Oscar moving to sit at the foot of the bed. A sigh escaped the man, a heavy thud sounded against the floor.

Norris tried not to flinch when a hand rubbed his leg for a quick moment.

But he didn’t try to hide his smile when he had heard:

“You are safe with me, Lando.”