Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Nothing beats a week-long getaway with your closest friends. The shared Airbnb, the inside jokes that never got old, the late-night talks that stretched until sunrise, the laughter that echoed through the walls, the games that ended in chaos and tears of laughter—it was the kind of trip you’d remember long after it ended.

After months of planning and endless rescheduling, the group—Oscar, Lando, Max, Charles, Carlos, Alex, Pierre, George and Daniel—had finally managed to make it happen. One cabin, eight adults, one week of freedom from their studies.

It was already nighttime when they arrived. The cabin was perched on a hill overlooking the sea and lake, with moonlight spilling through every window and the faint sound of water humming in the background. 

It was peaceful, almost too peaceful for a group that couldn’t go ten minutes without teasing each other.

They looked around the airbnb, checking for leaks or damages. In the process they had found out that there were 3 rooms, the first had a double bed, the second room had a double bed and a single bed, the third had 3 single beds.

And to worsen it up, counting with the amount of people they had, one among 9 of them would have a double bed all to themselves—first floor and a toilet with it—added to the throne. 

And like all the other fair people in the world, they fought for that throne like a real man.

“UNO!” Lando shouted, throwing his card like it was Excalibur.

George played his card, giving a signal to Alex who was right beside him. Alex nodded and played a reverse card, then George followed up with a +6 card.

Lando froze, mouth falling open. “You guys planned that! That’s cheating!”

Everyone burst out laughing while Lando reluctantly drew his cards, muttering curses under his breath.

Minutes later, Pierre went down on one knee like he was proposing to the universe. “UNO! YAHAHHAHA YOU ALL SUCK!” He yelled, celebrating way too early one must say.

Charles groaned. “Can we all agree on one thing? Let’s sabotage Pierre.” Daniel immediately raised his hands but he was promptly shoved backward by Pierre, crashing onto the tile floor.

The game had turned into a warzone—Charles whispering strategies to Carlos, Daniel trying to peek at Pierre’s cards, Max narrowing his eyes as if doing so would magically change the cards on his hands. Then—

Oscar placed two numbered 6 cards, green and red. 

“Uno, uno game.” 

Silence. Then—chaos.

“NOOOOOOO!” Lando screamed, falling dramatically off the couch. Daniel threw his cards onto the floor in slow motion, screaming like he’d just witnessed tragedy. 

Everyone groaned, tossing their cards into the pile, yelling about rigged systems and rematches.

“Uh…” Oscar blinked. “I don’t have to take the room if—”

George cut him off. “No! A deal’s a deal. Winner takes the throne.”

“Throne?” Alex repeated, face buried into the couch. “He gets a bathroom. That’s royalty.” Alex whines out loud, smashing his head repeatedly against the couch.

“So, since Oscar gets this room. Then all that’s left is the rooms upstairs—“

Daniel was the first to run upstairs, yelling “first come, first serve!” as he sprinted through the hallway. Pierre immediately followed, shouting in French and almost knocking over a lamp in the process. 

“Wha— WAIT! NOT FAIR!” Charles ran after them, then followed Carlos, and well yeah, obviously Daniel too. Lando recorded the chaos on his phone, cackling behind the camera while he chased after them.

Max stood up, muttered something about regretting agreeing to come. Both Max and Oscar left to clean up the mess, Oscar laughed at Max's complaints. After cleaning up the battlefield of cards and chips, Oscar took his luggage into his room.

The only room downstairs while everyone else is upstairs. He walked out to the living room to grab his bag when out of a sudden screams were heard upstairs. Oscar frowns, as he was about to check on the screams—everyone ran down stairs.

And Alex had.. a pigeon on his hands?

“What the hell happened?” Oscar asked, watching Alex open the door and let the bird out carefully.

“Lando left the balcony door open to take pictures,” George explained, “and a bird flew in and pooped on the bed.”

Oscar blinked. “So…?”

“So now Lando doesn’t have a bed.”

“Hey!” Lando’s voice came from the kitchen. “Alex claimed that bed, not me!”

“Yeah, but you’re the idiot who let a pigeon in,” Alex said. “Technically, it’s your fault there’s bird shit on my mattress.”

“We’ll wash it tomorrow,” George said, already walking away. “Until then, you’re out of bed, mate.”

Lando threw his arms up. “And where am I supposed to sleep? I’m not sharing a single bed with any of you.”

“Neither are we,” Max said flatly. “You kick in your sleep.”

“I was a victim,” Pierre added, raising a hand. Lando glared. “That was one time.”

“He can share the bed with me,” everyone turned their head towards Oscar, he smiled awkwardly with the sudden pressure of eyes. “I don’t mind.”

“Really? But you did win that room to yourself,” Lando said, his eyebrows raised.

“There’s no other bed right? And fyi, I didn't even fight for this room, you all were the ones acting like maniacs for it.”

“Right,” everyone nodded and hummed.

George claps happily, “okay great then! Lando will share a room with Oscar! Well thank god you didn’t bring your luggage up yet, huh?” He patted Lando’s shoulder and walked upstairs alongside Alex.

Oscar grabbed his bag, glanced up to see Lando awkwardly standing beside his own luggage.

“What’s wrong? Why are you acting all awkward? I thought that was my thing.” Oscar joked, he smiled when Lando chuckled softly, shoulders tensing down. “Sorry, mate. Should’ve closed the goddamn window, then this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Why do you make it sound like sharing a room with me is the same as eating a poop shaped cake?”

Lando frowned, then laughed, “what's with the choice of comparison?” Adding on, “I bet you’re a great roommate, it’s just that I don’t want you to get awkward nor uncomfortable.”

“You’re overthinking it way too much, Lan. We’ve known each other for 2 years now, don’t you think it’s about time we share a room together?” Oscar chuckled, wearing his backpack and grabbing Lando’s luggage off his grip. Dragging them into the room. 

Lando lingered by the doorway. It wasn’t sharing a room that made his stomach twist — it was the bed.

Sure, he and Oscar had known each other for two years now. But “friends” was a loose word, one born more out of shared circles than choice. They’d always been orbiting the same people, occasionally bumping into each other’s gravity.

It wasn’t that Lando was awkward around him — if anything, it was the opposite. 

When it was just the two of them, conversation came easy. They’d talk about the dumbest things, trade jokes, stories, thoughts — until hours slipped by without either of them noticing. 

They had things in common, but they weren’t alike—that difference made the conversations feel alive. 

But that was always where it ended.

When the group was around, they fell back into their own corners—polite smiles, a quick nod, nothing more. At least that's what Lando feels.

Lando sighed and pushed the thought aside. He stepped into the room, finding Oscar crouched by his bag, rummaging through his things with quiet focus.

It’s fine, Lando told himself. It’s just one night. Just one bed. And it’s not like one night could change everything… right?

WRONG.

Lando must’ve lost his mind to think nothing would happen, because right now, for the first time, he saw Oscar without his hoodie. Plain white tee. Navy pajama pants dotted with tiny stars.

Hair still damp from the shower, sticking to his forehead in soft curls. His cheeks carried the faintest flush—warmth from the water, probably, Lando thought.

Oscar sat down on the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. A towel hung around his shoulders, his hands rubbing through his hair as his eyes focused solely on his phone. 

And he had never looked better. Lando couldn’t tear his eyes off the Aussie, The pale of his skin. The scattered freckles—no, constellations—that trailed down his jaw and neck. The soft curve of his mouth when he read something funny on his screen.

Oscar turned his head. Lando froze. Their eyes met for a split second before panic took over. He coughed—once, awkwardly—and then it turned into a full-on, choking fit. He stumbled off the bed, clutching his chest.

“Mate, are you— you alright?” Oscar blinked, phone forgotten in his hand.

“Yep. I’m fine.” Lando waved his arms like a malfunctioning traffic light, voice strained between coughs. “Just, uh— shower. Gonna— yeah.”

He practically fled, snatching his clothes off the chair and pointing a finger at Oscar in some half-formed gesture of reassurance before ducking into the bathroom. The door shut with a thunk. Silence.

Oscar tilted his head, still watching the door, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Weirdo,” he murmured under his breath.

By the time Lando stepped out of the bathroom, steam billowed around him like fog. He ran a towel through his hair, eyes flicking up to the mirror one last time before facing the battlefield—the bed.

(Dramatically inputs dun dun dunnn)

Oscar was already tucked under the blanket, scrolling through his phone with the bedside lamp still on. His hair had dried into soft waves, and the faint hum of some song vibrated from his lips, low and careless. Lando tried not to stare. Tried.

Well we know how that went. 

“Didn’t think you’d survive in there,” Oscar said without looking up.

“Yeah, well, some of us actually shower longer than three minutes.”

Oscar hummed. “Some of us don’t waste hot water.”

Lando rolled his eyes, tossing the towel over the chair before climbing into bed—on his side, very much on his side. He laid down, back facing Oscar, blanket pulled halfway up, staring at the bathroom door like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

“I’m going to close the lights now,” Lando hummed. Oscar switched off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness, the only sound the quiet hum of crickets outside and their uneven breaths.

He could feel the warmth radiating off Oscar, just inches away. Hear him breathe. The soft rustle when he shifted. It wasn’t helping. At all. So he tries to sleep it off.

Lando closes his eyes, now realizing that he in fact has insomnia. FUCK MY LIFE, he clenched onto the blanket, internally screaming and sobbing. 

Minutes passed. Maybe hours. The room was quiet except for the soft, steady rhythm of Oscar’s breathing. Is he asleep?Lando wondered, rolling over carefully until he faced Oscar’s back face.

Oscar stirred slightly—brows furrowing, then relaxing again—before his eyes fluttered open. Lando froze. His heart jumped to his throat, gripping the blanket tighter, desperately pretending to be invisible.

Oscar closed his eyes, not hiding the fact that he was indeed tired. “Can’t sleep?” He asked, his voice coming out more like a whisper.

Lando hummed, “stupid insomnia, i forgot to pack my melatonins.” 

Oscar hummed, the sound low and lazy, before pushing himself upright. The bed shifted under his weight as he leaned over the edge, rummaging through his bag at the corner of the room.

Lando blinked at him, sitting up, brows drawn in quiet confusion.

When Oscar returned to the bed—back pressed against the headboard—he had an old iPod in his hand. He placed it between them, untangling a pair of wired earphones with careful fingers. Then, wordlessly, he offered one end to Lando.

Lando hesitated. Oscar raised an eyebrow. The silent come on in his eyes made Lando sigh softly and take it. He slid the earbud in, watching as Oscar thumbed the iPod’s wheel. A faint click.

Soft, echoing notes began to fill the air.

> playing “About You” — The 1975

Oscar shifted, scooting a few inches closer—enough to allow their shoulders to brush against one another. Oscar placed the ipod facing down on his lap. 

“Music usually helps calm me down,” he broke the silence.

Oscar turned to look sideways, finding Lando already looking at him with a soft smile. Moonlight spilled through the slit in the curtain, catching on his cheekbones, the faint sheen of his damp hair.

“Really? Wired earphones?”

Oscar blinked, feigning offense. “Hm? What? It’s hard to lose them, plus, they have infinite battery power.” 

Lando huffed out a small laugh, shaking his head. “You sound like my granddad.” 

Oscar smiled faintly, shoulders rising and falling. The silence that followed wasn’t awkward—it was warm, stretched between the hum of the song and the quiet rhythm of their breathing.

“What’s the title?” Lando asked, voice soft.

“About you, by The 1975.”

“Like, the year?”

Oscar hummed, Lando echoed the sound, a lazy hum. His gaze dropped to his hands twisting the edge of the blanket. “What’s it about?”

Oscar hesitated, thinking. His voice came out slower this time, thoughtful. “It’s about someone you can’t quite let go of. Even when you think you have.” He looked down at the iPod, thumb tracing its edge. 

“It’s that kind of love that’s over, but still lingers. You’ve moved on—but something small always pulls you back. A song, a place, a smell… and suddenly you remember.”

He paused, breath catching a little. “You remember how it felt to love them. The version of you that existed because of them. It’s like… standing in the memory, knowing it’s gone but missing it anyway.”

The melody swelled, soft and distant.

“Matty said once it’s kind of a sequel to Robbers,” Oscar continued quietly. “Same story, years later. The chaos is gone. Everything’s softer now. But the ache’s still there.”

He let the words fade into the quiet hum of the song. “It’s that feeling of thinking, ‘You’ll always be a part of me, even if we never speak again.’”

He turned his head slightly, ready to see what Lando would say next—only to find him leaning against the headboard, eyes closed, breathing even.

A faint smile curved Oscar’s lips. He adjusted the blanket over Lando’s shoulder, the shared earbud still tucked in place.

“Goodnight, Loops,” he whispered.

The morning light was soft, pale, and peaceful. Or at least, it had been—until the sound of two very off-key voices shattered the calm.

“🎵 BABY, BABY, BABY—OH! 🎵”

Lando groaned before his brain was even fully awake. His eyebrows scrunched, and he buried his face deeper into whatever his cheek was pressed against. Warm. Soft. Steady breathing under his ear.

Huh?

His eyes fluttered open. The first thing he saw was the hem of a white t-shirt, then the slow rise and fall of a chest. Lando’s brain stuttered, completely freezing as realization hit him—he had fallen asleep on Oscar’s shoulder.

Actually, not just the shoulder—he was practically leaning into him, arm half-draped across Oscar’s stomach like some kind of koala.

“🎵 LIKE, BABY, BABY, BABY—NOOO! 🎵”

George’s voice cracked so horribly it could have shattered glass. Lando jerked upright on instinct, nearly ripping the earbud from his ear.

“Jesus—,” he rasped, blinking at the light streaming through the curtains. His hair stuck up in all directions.

Beside him, Oscar stirred with a quiet groan. “...Is someone being murdered, or is that George?” His morning voice was low, raspy, still thick with sleep.

“Both, probably,” Lando muttered, trying very hard not to think about how warm Oscar looked, or how soft his voice sounded when he was half-asleep.

Outside their door, Daniel’s voice joined in, loud and dramatically high-pitched. “🎵 THOUGHT YOU’D ALWAYS BE MIIINE—MIIINE! 🎵”

Oscar sighed deeply, running a hand down his face. “I should’ve known giving them access to the speaker was a mistake.”

Lando snorted and moved to get out of bed, but his arm brushed against Oscar’s. It was a small, fleeting touch—still, it sent a spark of awareness down his spine. He froze.

Oscar glanced up at him, sleep still clinging to his features, his hair sticking out in soft curls. “Morning,” he said simply, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Lando blinked, staring at him a second too long. “Uh—morning.” He scrambled off the bed, pretending to fix the blanket. “You, uh, snore by the way.”

Oscar gave him a look that clearly said yeah right. “Sure I do.”

“Totally. Loudest snore I’ve ever heard.”

A beat. Then, in that same calm, teasing tone, Oscar replied, “You drool.”

Lando’s jaw dropped. “I do not!”

Oscar smirked, slipping out of bed, stretching lazily. “You do. A little. I almost drowned.”

“WHAT—”

Before Lando could finish, another chorus of “🎵 BABY, BABY, BABY—OOH! 🎵” erupted from down the hall, followed by the unmistakable crash of something falling over and Pierre yelling in French.

Oscar grabbed his hoodie off the chair, shaking his head with a sleepy laugh. “Come on. Let’s go stop whatever war they just started.”

Lando groaned but followed him out, his mind still replaying the way Oscar’s shoulder had felt beneath his cheek. And though he’d never admit it out loud, it was easily the best sleep he’d had in months.

The moment the door swung open, chaos practically exploded into the room. 

Daniel was on the floor in a headlock courtesy of Pierre, yelling something that definitely wasn’t English, while Charles was sprinting after George—pan in hand—swinging like his life depended on it.

Lando blinked once. Twice. “Holy shit…” he muttered, voice still thick with sleep. Then, deadpan— “this is going to be one hell of a week.”

The chaos eventually settled—well, as much as it could with them. 

Charles finally put the pan down after Pierre bribed him with pancakes, Daniel escaped Pierre’s grip only to steal bacon off Carlos’s plate, and Max sat at the far end of the couch pretending not to know any of them.

Plates clinked, mugs of coffee passed around, the smell of toast and butter filling the air. The living room looked like a half-finished breakfast buffet—food everywhere, everyone talking over each other.

Then George, ever the planner, clapped his hands. “Alright! Settle down, starving people. I have something to show you.”

A collective groan echoed.

“Oh god, not another PowerPoint,” Alex mumbled, mouth full of croissant.

“Yes! That’s right, Alex! Another PowerPoint!” George declared proudly, connecting his laptop to the TV. The screen lit up with a title slide that read in bold Comic Sans:

“THE ULTIMATE VACATION ITINERARY — by George (and Daniel, not really)”

“What in the world?” Lando mumbled, rubbing his forehead.

Daniel stood beside George, arms crossed and chin up like a proud co-founder. “I made the cover slide,” he said.

“You chose Comic Sans,” Max muttered under his breath.

George ignored him, clicking to the next slide that showed a color-coded timeline. “So, today’s plan: breakfast—done. Then we head to the lake for paddle boards and swimming. Lunch at the docks, then free time before dinner.”

“Do we have to follow this?” Pierre asked, sipping orange juice like a defiant five-year-old.

“Yes, Pierre,” George said with a forced smile. “Otherwise, this entire operation falls apart.”

“Operation?” Lando raised an eyebrow, still half-asleep beside Oscar on the couch.

George clicked again. “Operation: Fun Without Chaos.”

Everyone harmonized yet again, groaning like their life depends on it.

Daniel leaned into the mic of George’s laptop dramatically. “Mission: Already failed.”

Laughter broke out across the room, even George cracked a smile.

Charles leaned closer to Lando, voice low enough for only him to hear. “You think he actually rehearsed that?”

Lando smirked, eyes still on the screen. “Knowing George? He probably had a test run last night.”

“Twice,” Charles guessed.

They both snorted quietly as George proudly moved on to slide five—“Team Assignments: Because You Lot Can’t Be Trusted.”

Activities for the day:

🔲First activity: paddle boarding;swimming

🔲Second activity: lunch at dock

🔲Third activity: rent a bike 

🔲Fourth activity: Pizza for dinner 

First activity: paddle boarding.

“Dude, how do you even—CONTROL THIS THING—!”

Carlos’s voice cracked halfway through the sentence before his paddleboard tilted violently to the side. A splash followed, loud and dramatic, sending a wave that knocked Charles clean off his board too.

“CARLOS!” Charles came up sputtering, hair plastered to his face, “fucking hell, mate!” 

Carlos surfaced beside him, grinning like a soaked golden retriever. “I didn’t fall, I strategically dismounted!”

“Yeah? Your ‘strategy’ almost drowned me!” Charles splashed water at him in revenge, to which Carlos only laughed harder, spitting out a mouthful of lake water.

Meanwhile, a few meters away, Pierre was somehow still upright—barely. “You know what? Hell yeah, I’m getting the hang of this,” he said, wobbling like a penguin on ice. His paddle dipped into the water in slow, unsure strokes, barely moving the board.

Lando and Max shared a look, identical smirks forming.

Without a word, Max shifted direction, gliding over to Pierre with perfect control. Lando followed, already snickering.

“Hey, Pierre! Nice technique, man!” Max called out.

Pierre beamed. “See? I told you! Natural talent—”

He didn’t get to finish. Max’s paddle nudged the tail of Pierre’s board—just a tiny push—but it was enough. 

The board tilted, and in one glorious, slow-motion moment, Pierre’s arms flailed wildly before he toppled into the water with a scream that echoed across the lake. Splash.

Lando completely lost it, doubled over laughing so hard his board started tipping. “DUDE—HIS FACE—OH MY GOD!”

But the wave Pierre created didn’t stop there—it rolled across the lake, hitting Oscar and George mid-race. Their boards wobbled violently before both went down with twin splashes.

“FOR GOD’S SAKE!” George yelled between laughs.

Oscar resurfaced calmly, wiping water from his eyes. “We’re surrounded by children.”

The water erupted with laughter and chaos. Daniel was recording from the dock, cackling like a proud director filming his masterpiece. “This is gold! I’m putting this in the trip montage!”

Lando tried to regain balance, still laughing, but his board tilted dangerously as Pierre resurfaced and smacked the side of it. “REVENGE!” Pierre yelled, sending another wave right into Lando’s face.

Lando gasped, coughing up lake water. “You—evil—goblin!”

Oscar popped up beside them, hair dripping, shaking his head but smiling. “You two are impossible.”

“Team bonding!” Lando declared, throwing water back at Pierre.

Oscar smirked. “Yeah? Then bond with the bottom of the lake.”

Before Lando could react, Oscar flipped his board in one swift motion. Another huge splash.

Everyone went wild. Even Max—normally too busy admiring Charles—was laughing so hard he almost fell himself.

Daniel zoomed in with his camera. “Oh my god, I love friendship,” he said with mock sincerity.

Lando surfaced again, gasping but smiling. “That’s it, Piastri. You’re going down.”

“Oh yeah?” Oscar grinned. “Catch me first.”

He turned his board and started paddling away with surprising speed. Lando blinked, then grinned, eyes lighting up like a challenge had just been issued. “Oh, it’s on.”

And then came the chase.

Lando splashed after Oscar, both shouting and laughing, their boards slicing through the sunlight-sparkled water. 

Daniel, meanwhile, had dropped the phone and was now dancing on the dock, holding the speaker high above his head like it was the Top Gun beach scene come to life.

The song changed seamlessly—“I Ain’t Worried” by OneRepublic.

🎵 I don’t know what you’ve been told… 🎵 

The music mixed with their laughter, the splashing, the sun glaring off the water. Charles tackled Pierre off his board, George tried (and failed miserably) to dunk Max, and Daniel shouted something about needing champagne for this.

Oscar turned to glance back mid-paddle—Lando was still chasing, hair soaked, grin wide, eyes bright. And for a moment, it felt like a movie. Like they were young, stupid, and infinite.

Just sun, water, music, and the sound of their laughter echoing off the lake—A perfect, messy summer that would never come again, but they’d remember it forever.

🎵 I ain’t worried ‘bout it right now 🎵

The line hit just right. And for once, none of them were.

Activities for the day:

✅First activity: paddle boarding;swimming

✅Second activity: lunch at dock

🔲Third activity: rent a bike 

🔲Fourth activity: Pizza for dinner 

Third activity: rent a bike 

By the time the lake had calmed down again, the group was sprawled out across the dock like a pile of overcooked noodles—hair dripping, cheeks flushed, clothes sticking to their skin. 

The speaker still hummed faintly in the background, now playing something soft and summery as Daniel scrolled through the footage on his phone, grinning to himself like a proud film director.

“Alright, movie stars,” George clapped his hands, standing in front of the group like a camp counselor, “hydration breaks over. Next on the agenda—bike ride through town!”

“I thought you said we’d have free time,” Lando whined.

“Well, this wasn’t my idea—“

“IT WAS MINEE!!!” Carlos cut George off, all excited and jumpy. If there is one thing Carlos loved more than his girlfriend, Rebecca, was riding a bike.

Pierre groaned dramatically, still lying flat on his back. “Of course it’s your idea.”

“C’MON, C’MON.” Carlos cheered. “Do we look like we can move?” Max cursed, head dropping back.

Lando, already halfway through a can of monster, raised his hand. “I volunteer to drive the support car.” Carlos ignored him. “Everyone’s riding, no excuses! Come on, this is peak summer content!”

A few hours later, they were all gathered outside a small rental shop by the beach, each picking out bikes that somehow matched their personalities too perfectly—like it was somehow meant to happen—at least that's what Carlos believes.

Charles got a sleek black road bike, obviously. Pierre chose matching pastel-colored ones just to annoy him. Daniel picked the one with a basket, immediately filling it with snacks.
Max claimed the mountain bike with suspicious confidence.

And then there was Lando and Oscar—side by side, both trying to act normal after their little paddleboard chase earlier, though neither could look at the other for more than two seconds without smiling.

“Uh guys, don’t you feel like these bikes are quite different from the ones back home. Because getting on this shit is hard.”

“That’s because you suck, Alex. I told you to pick something else,” George teased, tightening the strap of his helmet.

“Wha— that’s not! Look!” Alex points at Lando who was struggling to get on his bike, “he can barely even stand—look he’s literally tip-toeing.” Lando looked up, “huh? You talking about me?— FUCK! I FORGOT MY HELMET!”

Max laughed at him, Carlos rode past him, now circling around the area while he waits for everyone else. While Lando struggled to get off his bike, Oscar came over with a helmet—proping it on him. 

“There you go, your savior.” Daniel teased and rode off together with Carlos.

Lando flipped him off, watching as Oscar adjusted the helmet. “You sure you can ride this?” Oscar teased, tightening the strap of his helmet.

Lando shot him a look. “I feel judged and insulted right now.” Oscar snorted, tapping the top of the helmet, Lando groaned at the impact. “I swear, I'll push you into a hedge.”

“You’ll fall into a hedge yourself before even reaching me, watch out Lando Norris.” Oscar winked, riding off. Leaving Lando stunned, what the fuck was that? He blinked, then again. Then—

“Dude stop being gay and hurry up,” George called out, Lando snapped out of it. “You’re gay,” Lando glared but a smile was printed on his face.

They set off in a loose pack down the coastal path, the late afternoon sun dipping lower in the sky. The road ran alongside the water, wind rushing past their faces, the air filled with the smell of salt and sunscreen.

Carlos led the way with Daniel right beside him, blasting songs from the speaker in his basket. George and Pierre were riding side by side, weaving like absolute menaces.

Lando pedaled beside Oscar, their bikes close enough that the handlebars nearly brushed. The breeze carried the scent of salt and sunscreen, the sound of laughter echoing up the road.

“Look at Charles—he’s not even pretending to look at the road,” Lando said, nodding ahead.

Oscar followed his gaze, chuckling when he saw it. Charles was coasting right next to Max, who was admiring the view with that calm, unbothered expression he always had. 

Charles, on the other hand, was admiring Max—with a smile so wide it was a miracle he hadn’t fallen off yet.

Oscar grinned. “Tragic. Man’s one corner away from proposing.”

Lando snorted, barely keeping his balance. “And yet they both still don’t believe us when we tell them that they’re head over heels for one another.”

Oscar tilted his head behind them. “Look behind, and you’ll find Alex trying to communicate with the birds passing by us.” 

Lando turned around, only to find Alex riding one-handed, pointing up at the sky, talking to a flock of birds as if he were auditioning for a Disney movie.

“Oh my god,” Lando wheezed, “he’s actually trying to communicate.”

They both burst into laughter—loud, unfiltered, the kind that made your stomach hurt. Lando nearly veered off the path, ducking his head down as he tried to steady himself again.

When the laughter finally died down, Lando exhaled, a small smile still tugging at his lips. “This is actually kinda nice,” he admitted, glancing sideways.

Oscar kept his eyes on the road but turned just enough for Lando to catch the curve of his smile. “Kinda? You’re grinning like an idiot.”

“Shut up,” Lando muttered—but didn’t stop smiling.

For a while, they rode in comfortable silence, the sound of tires on gravel and waves crashing against the shore filling the quiet. 

Then Lando spoke, “we brought the sheets back from the laundry. I’ll finally have a clean mattress with no bird shit tonight.” 

He glances sideways again, trying to read Oscar’s expression. Lando didn’t know why he felt nervous to hear his reply, but he was. 

“Mm,” Oscar hummed, then added. “Do you think birds get embarrassed pooping out in the open air?”

Lando blinked, thrown off—then laughed so hard he nearly hit a bush. “Is that seriously what’s on your mind right now?”

Oscar shrugged, straight-faced. “You never wondered?”

“Never!” Lando said through laughter, shaking his head as he looked back toward the sea. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” Oscar replied lightly, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he looked at him.

Lando shook his head and looked sideways to the scenery, oblivious to the gaze right beside him. They rode like that for a while—side by side, laughter fading into something quieter, softer. Just the sound of their wheels, the sea breeze, and the sunset stretching endlessly ahead of them.

When the path opened up into a hill overlooking the ocean, Daniel yelled, “LAST ONE DOWN BUYS DINNER!”

Instant chaos.

Max shot forward instantly, Charles right on his tail. Pierre tried to cut George off and nearly fell into a bush. Lando and Oscar exchanged one quick look before both took off, racing side by side down the slope, wind whipping through their hair, laughter mixing with the rush of wheels on pavement.

For a moment, it didn’t feel real—the sunset behind them, the sea glittering below, their friends’ laughter echoing through the air. Just them, chasing the wind, the world wide open ahead.

By the time they reached the bottom, breathless and laughing, Daniel came rolling down last, both hands in the air. “Worth it! I’m buying nobody dinner!”

“Because you forgot your wallet again?” Pierre called.

“Exactly!”

The group broke into laughter again.

The sky had started to melt into oranges and pinks, the sound of the sea soft in the distance mixed with the sound of summer wrapping around them like the last light of the day.

Activities for the day:

✅First activity: paddle boarding;swimming

✅Second activity: lunch at dock

✅Third activity: rent a bike 

✅Fourth activity: Pizza for dinner 

The night came faster than anyone expected.

Lando had just finished swapping out the mattress cover—fresh from the laundry, still warm from the dryer. 

He flopped face-first onto the bed, sinking into the smell of clean cotton. God, nothing beats this smell, he thought. The kind that makes your brain go fuzzy in the best way.

The clock on the wall blinked 11:29 p.m. Everyone else was long gone—completely wrecked from a whole day out on the lake. The combination of sunshine, waves, and way too much food had taken them all down like tranquilizers.

He turned to his right. George and Alex were out cold in their shared room—sprawled across their beds like starfish, snoring loud enough to scare Peppa Pig into retirement.

Lando smothered a laugh, tiptoeing out before one of them started sleep-talking again. He made his way downstairs, feet light against the creaking wood. His luggage. He’d left it in Oscar’s room earlier that day.

The plan was simple: sneak in, grab the suitcase, sneak out. No noise, no awkwardness, no accidental eye contact. But, of course, life had other plans.

He opened the door—and froze. Oscar was awake, propped up against the headboard, that same relaxed posture he always had when he was reading or scrolling his phone. 

Wired earphones in, hair a bit messy, a soft glow from the lamp painting his features gold. 

Their eyes met. Oscar blinked, then tugged one earphone out, head tilting slightly. “Hey,” he said, voice soft, like he didn’t want to wake the world.

“My, uh—my luggage,” Lando blurted, pointing at the suitcase by the closet like it was a crime scene.

Oscar’s lips parted slightly in understanding. “Oh—right.” He shifted, a small ‘oh’ leaving his mouth. His shoulders relaxed, though for a fleeting second, Lando swore he caught something else there. 

Something that looked a lot like disappointment—but maybe that was just his overactive brain. Or the sugar crash from the ten marshmallows he’d roasted earlier.

“You can just leave it here,” Oscar said after a beat, voice low and warm. “It’s late. You should rest up, especially if you’re roommates with the morning devil himself.”

Lando snorted quietly. “Yeah, right.” He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. “Guess I’ll just keep this here for now then.”

Oscar nodded, that small smile still tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah.”

Lando stepped back toward the door, fingers curling around the knob. “Goodnight,” he said, trying to sound casual, but it came out softer than he meant.

Oscar met his gaze. “Goodnight, Lando.”

For a second, neither of them moved. Just the quiet hum of the night and the faint sound of whatever song was still playing through Oscar’s one earbud. Then Lando closed the door gently behind him.

Chapter Text

It started with Lady Gaga.

Lando didn’t know which song at first—only that the opening synth hit like a slap to the soul. The kind of sound that dragged you from the depths of sleep whether you liked it or not.

Then came the voices. Loud, off-key, and painfully familiar.

“🎵 I’M IN LOVE WITH JUDA—AS, JUDA—AS 🎵”

Daniel. Definitely Daniel.

“🎵 OH-OH-OH-OH-OH, I’M IN LOVE WITH JUDA—AS, JUDA—AS!!! 🎵”

George, right behind him, his pitch wobbling like a car on gravel.

And then—oh god—Alex joined in, one octave too high, absolutely committed. The three of them were outside again, right by the door, using the same portable speaker from hell.

Lando groaned, shoving his face into the pillow. 

But something was off. The sound was louder—way louder than it was supposed to be. Like the speaker was inches away instead of downstairs.

He shifted, squinting at the room around him. Wait—why did the light look different? Why were the walls the wrong color? And why was his pillow so… firm?

He blinked. Slowly turned his head. And froze. He wasn’t on his bed. He wasn’t even on his floor. He was in Oscar’s room. 

More specifically—he was on Oscar.

His head was tucked right into Oscar’s shoulder, his arm draped halfway across Oscar’s chest like he was auditioning for a rom-com. Oscar was still asleep, breathing steady, hair a mess against the pillow.

Lando’s soul left his body. His brain short-circuited—panic, horror, and something dangerously close to warmth hitting all at once.

“Oh—oh my god—” he whispered, trying to pull away quietly. But in true Lando fashion, quietly wasn’t in his skill set. His arm got caught in the blanket, the blanket caught the pillow, and before he knew it—

THUD.

He rolled right off the bed and onto the floor.

Oscar jerked awake, startled. “What the—Lando?”

From outside, Daniel’s voice blared through the door.

“🎵 I’LL BRING HIM DOWN, I’LL BRING HIM DOWN DOWN 🎵”

“What the fuck,” Lando scrambled up, hair wild, heart pounding. “Why am I here?!” Oscar blinked, half-awake, his voice still rough from sleep. “Do you sleepwalk?”

“I don’t know!” Lando yelled, because Lady Gaga was now vibrating through the door. “But this is weird!”

Oscar rubbed his face, muttering, “jesus—why do they have to choose this song out of any other song.” 

Just as the chorus hit again and Daniel’s voice cracked in what could only be described as a spiritual experience. 

Lando rubbed his head, half awake and too confused to comprehend how he’d ended up in Oscar’s bed. His curls were a mess, his brain foggy, and for a second he genuinely wondered if he was still dreaming.

He narrowed his eyes, trying to piece together the night before. 

After going upstairs, he’d tossed and turned for hours, unable to sleep without his melatonin. Then—darkness. He vaguely remembered walking in his dream, but who doesn’t? Everyone walks in dreams.

Except this time, apparently, he actually did and ended up.. here.

Oscar, meanwhile, didn’t seem to mind. He just looked like he was trying hard to negotiate with consciousness. His eyes stayed closed, expression caught between peaceful and done with everything (well maybe done with Alex, Daniel and George).

“🎵 I’M STILL IN LOVE WITH JUDAS, BABYYYY 🎵”

Oscar groaned, dragging a hand down his face before rolling onto his back, voice muffled against the pillow. “I’m going to destroy that speaker—“

“🎵 I’M IN LOVE WITH JUDAS— 🎵”

(Cut)

Charles sat slumped over a mug of coffee, eyes half-open, hair sticking up like he’d been electrocuted. Carlos was next to him, face buried in his arms, mumbling something in Spanish that vaguely sounded like a prayer. Max hadn’t even bothered with a shirt, just sitting there blankly, spoon in hand, not actually eating anything. 

And then there was Lando—hunched over his plate, hair messy, eyes wide with trauma. Every time someone said “Gaga,” he flinched. Like full on body flinching. 

Oscar grabbed some milk, placing it in front of Lando with a smile. “Have some,” Lando turned to him, somewhat still embarrassed at how he somehow woke up in his bed. Swearing that he had never sleepwalk before.

“Thanks,” Lando thanked softly. Oscar nodded once, then got back to blowing his tea.

Everyone except George, Daniel, and Alex looked like they’d just survived a natural disaster.

Across the kitchen, in the living room, George stood proudly in front of the TV, laptop hooked up, clicker in hand. 

Daniel stood beside him for another credit score, oh and maybe also to make sure the slide transitions had sound effects. Alex was on toast duty, somehow way too cheerful.

George cleared his throat, pressing the clicker with purpose.

“Alright, team!” he said, voice way too bright for 8:00 a.m. “Welcome to Day two of the Ultimate Vacation Experience! Let’s go over today’s schedule.”

No one responded.

Daniel whispered into the mic like a game show host, “They’re thrilled, George.”

George ignored him and clicked again. A new slide popped up: ‘TODAY’S ADVENTURE: CLIFF DIVING & SUNSET BBQ!’ complete with star emojis and an image of a stick figure jumping off a cliff.

Carlos groaned into his arms. “You’re joking.”

“Nope!” George beamed. “Transportation leaves at ten! Then we head straight to the cliffs. Water depth is verified safe, and we’ll have lunch by the shore!”

“Define safe,” Oscar raised his eyebrows.

“Safe-ish,” Daniel said cheerfully, sipping his orange juice. “I checked it myself!”

Charles blinked slowly, unimpressed. “You fell off your paddleboard five times yesterday.”

“Research,” Daniel said.

Lando stared blankly at the TV, still processing life. “Can I… not jump off a cliff?”

George clapped his hands. “No can do, mate! Team bonding!”

Oscar finally looked up from his tea, deadpan. “Last time we did ‘team bonding,’ George nearly drowned because Alex declared war.”

“That was yesterday,” Alex said through a mouthful of cereal. “Different day, different trauma.”

Daniel grinned. “That’s the spirit!”

George clicked the final slide—confetti animation, naturally. “Alright, gang, breakfast up, sunscreen on, let’s seize the day!”

The room stayed dead silent.

Charles finally muttered, “If I jump off that cliff, it’ll be to escape you morning monsters.”

Max raised his mug in agreement. “Cheers to that.”

Daniel just smiled wider. “Oh, they love us.”

Then the speaker came back to life.

“🎵 I’M IN LOVE WITH JUDAS… 🎵”

Lando let his forehead fall onto the table with a soft thud. “I can’t live like this.”

Beside him, Oscar let out a small laugh. Lando turned his head just enough to glare at him from under his curls. Oscar lifted one hand in surrender, still smiling.

But then, almost absentmindedly, that same hand came down to Lando’s hair.

Oscar froze halfway through the motion, eyes wide. Lando blinked, staring at him in stunned silence, the tips of both their ears turning a very obvious shade of red.

Oscar instantly withdrew his hand like he’d touched fire, clearing his throat. “Uh— sorry, I—”

Lando shot upright at the same time, nearly knocking over his chair. “No, yeah, it’s fine! Totally fine!” He coughed once, awkwardly. Twice, for good measure.

“Uh, I’m, gonna go get dressed— washed. I’m gonna go get washed,” he blurted out, already backing away.

Oscar nodded too quickly. “Oh, yeah, me too, same. Uh, you can use my bathroom if you want to?”

“Oh— yeah, uh, thanks. Will do!”

They both tried to move at once, did a little side-to-side shuffle trying to get past each other, muttering “sorry” and “no, you go” at the same time before finally managing to part ways.

It was clumsy, awkward, and about ten seconds too long—but as Lando escaped. He ran into the room, closed the door, and jumped onto the bed. A pause. Then he screamed into the pillow.

Activities for the day:

✅First activity: cliff diving 

🔲Second activity: sunset bbq

🔲Third activity: Mario party 

Sunset BBQ.

After a long day collectively jumping off the cliff and swimming around, the time the sun began to dip behind the hills, the air smelled like salt, charcoal, and sunscreen. 

The group had set up their little sunset BBQ spot right by the lake—a couple of foldable chairs, a speaker blasting throwback summer songs, Alex and Daniel at the grill wearing an apron that said “Kiss the Cook (Pierre)” in bold letters.

Pierre was, of course, the one who gifted it. And was currently laughing his head off every time they proudly posed with it.

“Okay, burgers are ready!” Daniel announced dramatically, holding the spatula high like it was a sword. “Michelin-star chef, right here!”

“You’re taking all the credits again,” Alex shoved him out the way. Daniel scoffed, “just so you know, I grilled half of this meat.”

“You grilled 4/10 of this meat and 2 of them are burnt,” Alex replied, laughing while gesturing to Daniel to hand out the burger.

“If any of it gets food poisoning, its 100% Daniel’s fault.” Max muttered under his breath, earning a snort from Lando and a mock gasp from Daniel.

“EXCUSE YOU, no one will get food poisoning. The only thing I'll be poisoning is your hearts from how warm and delicious my meat are.”

Everyone booed, “GROSSSS.” Max screamed, Daniel poked the side of his stomach, making him scream and laugh, then he placed the burger on the table.

The scene was painted in gold—the water shimmering with the reflection of the sun, the sound of laughter floating between the trees. 

Someone switched the speaker to “Tongue Tied” by Grouplove, and the whole vibe shifted instantly. The opening guitar riff spilled out of the speaker, bright and reckless, cutting through the lazy hum of conversation.

Lando was sitting at the edge of the dock, shoes kicked off, toes skimming the water. He closed his eyes and breathed in, the sound of laughing and singing muffled behind him.

It was everything he had ever dreamt of, eating BBQ with the people you love, the fresh smell of lake, warm—yet cool breeze. It was calming, well not the Cliff diving part of today, because that did in fact feel like they were training for the military.

The amount of time George screamed—“C’MON GUYS, HURRY UP! LETS GO LETS GO LETS GO!”—was actually insane.

But it was worth it, everything is always worth it if you look at it from the bright side. Oscar came over a moment later with two cans of soda, “seat taken?” Lando looked up, one eye squinting from the sun setting.

He smiled and shook his head, “all yours.” Oscar kicked off his sandals and sat down, dipping his legs onto the warm water—handing one of the soda to Lando without a word.

“Peace offering,” he said simply, nodding toward Lando’s drink. Lando smirked, taking it. “From what crime?”

“Existing in the kitchen earlier,” Oscar replied. Lando choked out a laugh. “Yeah, well. I’m still traumatized.” They both smiled — small, easy, real. Then turned back towards the group, 

“🎵 DON’T TAKE ME TONGUE TIEDDDD 🎵”

“🎵 DONT WAVE NO GOODBYE 🎵”

Max and Daniel put up a show, using the thongs as their microphone. Lando laughed out loud, taking out his phone to capture the moment. He looked down at the picture, leg swinging and kicking the lake water.

A moment passed where neither spoke. 

Lando glanced sideways, sneaking a look. The music blended with the sounds of their friends shouting over who burned the corn, the light flickered across Oscar’s face, and the smell of grilled food mixed with the cool lake air.

“Sorry for uh, this morning. I didn’t know how I’d even ended up there.”

Oscar leaned back on his hands, gaze fixed on the sunset. Then there was his teasing smile, “maybe cause i’m a comfortable pillow.” Lando nudged him with a reply, dramatically groaning and rolling his eyes.

Oscar let out a laugh, “don’t worry about it, Lando. I really don’t mind,” he turned sideways, “promise.”

Lando stared, maybe it was the location they were set on—or maybe it was the effect of the amount of canned beer he had. But he felt the warmth travel up to his cheek. 

It was weird, he thought. Because just a few days ago the only thing they've said to each other was “Good morning” “is this your luggage?” “How’s your trip here?” “Oh, thank you” and nothing more. 

But now here they were, aside from the group, just two of them on the sidelines. 

“Kinda feels like we’re in a music video,” Lando said quietly, looking down at the water. Oscar tilted his head. “Yeah? What song?”

Lando thought for a moment, then smiled. “Something that feels good. You know—warm, a little stupid, but in the best way.” Oscar hummed, nodding with a smile.

“Hey, you two! Stop making out on the sidelines and get back here!” Carlos yelled over the music, one hand waving dramatically while the other latched onto Lando’s arm.

Lando burst out laughing, nearly tripping as Carlos yanked him up from where he was sitting. “We weren’t—!” he started to protest, but it was pointless—Carlos was already hauling him toward the group.

Still laughing, Lando reached back without thinking, fingers catching around Oscar’s wrist to pull him along too. Oscar stumbled forward, trying—and failing—not to smile. 

Then they joined the others—laughing, shouting, tripping over each other. The song filled the air, the sky burned orange, and for a few golden minutes, nothing else existed. No awkward mornings, no weird tension, no thoughts beyond now.

Just all of them—messy, loud, alive and together—under the sunset that made everything glow like summer never had to end.

Activities for the day:

✅First activity: cliff diving 

✅Second activity: sunset bbq

🔲Third activity: Mario party 

The night settled soft and warm around the cabin, windows cracked open to let in the faint hum of crickets and the smell of the lake. 

Inside, the living room glowed golden—fairy lights tangled around curtain rods, a few empty pizza boxes littered the coffee table, and the faint buzz of the TV filled the air.

“Alright, losers,” George announced, sitting cross-legged on the floor, controller in hand. 

“Winner gets to choose the itinerary for tomorrow. Loser—” his eyes flicked to Alex “—does the dishes.”

“The hell are you looking at me for?!” Alex coughed in offense, already gripping his controller like a weapon. “I’m not losing this again.”

Max laughed from the couch, half sprawled over a pillow. “You say that every night, mate, and yet here we are.”

The character select screen popped up. Lando walked from the kitchen, chewing what seems to be Kinder eggs. He sat down at the couch, legs folded up. He scrolled through the options dramatically. 

“You know what? I’m feeling Toad tonight. He’s fast, fearless—like me.”

Oscar snorted from the carpet, turning his head. “Fast, maybe. Fearless? You screamed when George threw a banana peel last round.” Lando stuck his tongue out.

Max and Charles were perched on the other side of the carpet, Charles insisting on explaining the “superior” racing line for the fifth time. 

Carlos was half-listening, half-texting someone, and Alex was already halfway through a bag of popcorn, handing out commentary like a sports commentator.

As the countdown started—3… 2… 1… GO!—the room erupted.

“WHO THE HELL THREW THAT SHELL?! MAX I’M GOING TO KILL YOU.”

“OSCAR, YOU’RE BLOCKING ME!”

“GEORGE, MOVE YOUR BIG HEAD—”

“ALEX, YOUR STUPID— UGHHHH”

“BITCH!” George yelled, mouth full of pizza.

1st: Alex

2nd: Charles

3rd: Max

4th: George

5th: Oscar

6th: Pierre

7th: Carlos

8th: Daniel

9th: Lando

Alex stood up, throwing his controller into the couch. “LET’S FUCKING GOOO! SUCK ON THAT BITCHES! I’M SENDING THE ITINERARY FOR TOMORROW ON THE GROUP CHAT!” Laughter exploded around the room. 

What’s the homework — 10:58pm

(Landino, Banana, Snow White, Taylor swift, Danny, Pastry, Chili, Mr Always late, Caterpillar eyes)

Snow white

First of all, no wake up calls from George and his monstrous gang. George and Oscar are preparing breakfast for everyone, we will not be doing anything extreme tomorrow. Charles is going to rent a car or van, I don't know, Max is going to be the one driving, we will visit small towns around the area. Phones are also officially banned tomorrow, well except for Charles cause he has to rent the car, but other than his phone, NO PHONE ‼️‼️‼️

Oh also, we’re having movie night tomorrow :)

Taylor swift

Wait

Why do I have to drive

Snow white

Because I won fair and square and chose you 😍😍

The light above the sink buzzed softly, the only sound breaking through the quiet hum of the night. Everyone else had already disappeared upstairs, laughter fading into the creak of floorboards.

Lando stood alone in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, arms deep in soapy water. The faint scent of dish soap and pizza crust lingered in the air. He didn’t mind—cleaning gave him something to do, rather than spending hours on trying to sleep.

Halfway through rinsing a plate, he heard footsteps behind him. Slow, soft.

Oscar appeared beside him, damp hair falling across his forehead, hoodie hanging loose over his shoulders. He looked comfortable—fresh from the shower, eyes slightly heavy—but that teasing glint was still there when he smiled.

Lando raised an eyebrow without turning fully. “What do you want from me, sir?”

Oscar leaned back against the counter beside him, arms crossed. “Just making sure you don’t make a mess.”

Lando scoffed, scrubbing harder at the plate. “Hilarious.”

Silence followed—but not the awkward kind. The kind that felt easy. Familiar. The kind that only existed when someone you liked being around was nearby—wait, no. Scratch that. That's— that’s weird. That’s—

Lando cleared his throat. “You should, uh, lock your door, y’know.”

Oscar’s brows knit slightly. “Why?”

“In case I, uh, decide to sleepwalk again.” Lando said it like a joke, but it came out softer than he meant.

Oscar chuckled, nodding slowly. “Right. I'll keep that in mind.” “Yeah,” Lando murmured, rinsing another plate.

The silence settled again, broken only by the sound of water and the quiet hum of the fridge. Lando kept sneaking glances, trying so hard to push down the churning of his stomach. He tried focusing on washing the plates, then—

Clank!

The plate slipped from his hands, crashing into the sink and sending water splashing everywhere. Both of them flinched, turning toward each other in perfect sync—then burst into laughter.

“I knew you’d make a mess,” Oscar wheezed, clutching his stomach. His hair stuck to his forehead, his grin wide.

Lando tried not to laugh, wiping at the soap on his hands. “Oh, god—if George was here, he’d kill me for drowning the kitchen.”

Both of them wiped the mess Lando had created. “Oh careful there, the floor’s quite wet—“ before Lando could finish his words, Oscar slipped.

Lando grabbed his arm on instinct, yanking him forward. Their balance went haywire, feet sliding, hands clutching—and somehow, against all logic, Lando ended up holding Oscar upright, one hand on his shoulder, the other gripping his arm tight.

“You alright?” Lando’s voice came out sharper than he meant, breath quick.

Oscar blinked at him—then started laughing again.

“What—why are you—?!” Lando frowned, half-annoyed, half.. (i’ll leave that to you.”

“Should’ve let you fall,” Lando grabbed the towel. Oscar watches as Lando crouches down, wiping the droplets—or—puddle of water. Oscar could see the frown in Lando’s brows, he crouched in front of him.

Lando glared up mid-wipe, “what are you smiling at?” He frowned. Oscar kept his smile, scooting closer to close the gap between them. And at that moment, Lando’s frown was replaced by startled.

Because Oscar was right in front of him, just a few inches away—with that stupid, stupid, smile stuck on his face. Oscar's hands reached out, landing softly on Lando’s cheek—so soft—as if he was afraid that one wrong move would bruise him.

His thumb brushed against Lando’s jaw, “you had soap all over your face and you didn’t even notice.” 

Thump, thump, thump..

Lando’s hand tightened around the edge of his apron. His heart was going wild the longer Oscar kept his hands lingering on his cheek.

Thump, thump, thump..

Their eyes shifted into something else for a moment, something warm, soft—and to worsen things up—Lando liked everything he was feeling. Lando looked down, Oscar retreated his hands by the action. Both suddenly avoiding each others eyes.

“Oh, th— thanks—” he stuttered, cringing, and decided to add, “—bro…”

Oscar cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, no problem—“ he paused, “—bro..” 

The two stood up, Lando quickly went back to washing up the plate, with Oscar still standing beside him for company. The room was silent, not the awkward ones, the ones where you realize you may be falling—or not.

No, it's just the mood, yeah. The mood made me feel things. Lando thought.

It was Oscar who spoke next. “Did you, uh, read Alex’s message in the group chat?” 

Lando held up the frying pan in his hand as an answer, trying to not show the fact that he could feel his heart burst open when Oscar turned to him with a grin—already guessing what that meant. 

And just like the lake flows, the tension was lifted up.

“Right. So, no George wake-up concert tomorrow—thank god. Me and George are on breakfast duty, Charles is renting a car, Max’s driving.”

“Where to?” Lando asked, shutting off the tap. 

“The towns. Then, uh, movie night after.”

Lando smiled faintly, grabbing a towel to dry his hands. “We should let Alex plan things more often. That actually sounds perfect and not torturing.”

Oscar laughed under his breath. “Yeah.”

Lando turned, leaning against the counter beside him. For a moment, neither of them said anything. Just the faint drip of the faucet, the low hum of the house, and that strange pull in the air between them.

Thump, thump, thump..

“Well,” Lando finally said, voice lower, softer. “Goodnight.”

Oscar smiled back, eyes meeting his for a heartbeat longer than necessary. “Goodnight, Lando.”

Lando nodded once before walking past him, heart thudding a little too fast for something as simple as washing dishes.

Thump, thump, thump..

He held onto his heart, frowned ever so slightly, UGHHH, what is going on with me?! He stormed up the stairs. 

Million thoughts running through his head, what if he sleepwalked again? What if he wakes up and tada, he’s on Oscar again? What if the others start to suspect things? He doesn’t want the friendship to be ruined just because he’s falling for Oscar. What if—

“Charles?”

Charles froze mid-step in the corridor like a deer caught in headlights. He looked guilty—too guilty—for someone who was supposedly just walking around.

Lando frowned, one brow lifting as he reached the top of the stairs. “What are you doing?”

“Uh…” Charles blinked rapidly, looking left, right, then back at Lando. “Pierre just farted. I’m escaping.”

Lando paused. “…And Carlos?”

“Still in there.”

There was a long beat of silence. Then Charles added with a solemn nod, “Making Carlos suffer.”

Lando tried—he really did—but he couldn’t help laughing. “Right. Okay.” He turned to head toward his room, ready to call it a night, when the other door beside him creaked open.

Max stepped out, moving like a cartoon thief—slow, cautious, and way too quiet for someone his size. He smiled in Charles’s direction, whispering, “Charlieee.”

Charles’s eyes widened, flicking urgently toward Lando.

Max frowned. “What?” He turned his head and froze.

Lando was standing there, jaw dropped so far it could’ve hit the floorboards. “Holy fuck,” Lando said, pointing dramatically between them. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

The silence that followed could’ve rivaled the grave. Then Charles sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, uh… surprise?”

Turns out, Max and Charles had been dating for four months. They hadn’t exactly hidden it—they were always affectionate, admiring each other—but everyone just assumed that was their usual dumb, lovesick energy. Mutual pining, people called it. 

Except it wasn’t pining at all. It was the real thing.

When Lando finally asked, “Why didn’t you just share a bed?” Max and Charles both shrugged like it was obvious.

“This is a friends trip,” Max said.

“Yeah,” Charles added. “We didn’t want to make it weird. You know, for the others.”

And, honestly, Lando thought that was kind of sweet. They weren’t hiding out of guilt—they were doing it because they didn’t want to steal the spotlight from the group’s chaos.

Still, it explained everything. The late-night whispers, the random walks outside, the “Pierre farted” excuse. They’d been sneaking out just to spend quiet time together. Just sitting under the stars, probably holding hands, probably being disgustingly cute about it.

Lando lay back on his bed later that night, staring up at the ceiling’s warm wooden beams.

He smiled faintly to himself. Despite everything—the chaos, the noise, the pranks—this trip had turned out softer than he expected.

He let his eyes close, body sinking into the mattress. For once, he didn’t need melatonin or anything. After a long day and a hundred laughs, sleep came easier than ever.

Chapter Text

The morning came slow, soft.

Warmth pooled around him, soft and heavy—the kind that made it impossible to tell where the sheets ended and his body began. The air smelled faintly of detergent and sunlight, the room quiet except for the distant hum of birds outside.

He shifted slightly, the blanket brushing against his chin, and let out a small sigh. It was peaceful—too peaceful for this house, really. No Daniel yelling, no George blasting music, no chaos echoing from the kitchen. Just quiet.

It felt… nice. And kinda warm in all the right places, the kind of warmth that made him want to sink deeper and never move again. His muscles relaxed without him realizing, his breathing falling into a lazy rhythm.

This is nice, he thought.

So nice he swore he could’ve sworn he started to hear the angels’ call.

“Lando..”

Oh yes, hi angels. 

“Lando..”

Yes, that’s my name. Am I in heaven?

“Lando, wake up.”

Yes— wait, huh?

“Lando, sorry to wake you, but I have to go help George cook today.”

Heaven?

Lando flattered his eyes, narrowing them till he realized he was laying on Oscar’s arms. 

NOT HEAVEN. I REPEAT. NOT HEAVEN. RETREAT! RETREAT!

Lando’s brain short-circuited. His entire body jolted like someone hit a panic button. In half a second, he launched himself backward, tangling himself in the blanket, before gracelessly rolling right off the bed and thudding onto the floor.

“Shit—ow, fuck—,” he groaned, clutching his side.

Oscar sat up, all sheepish and awkward, his hair sticking up at odd angles. “Sorry,” he muttered, voice still heavy with sleep. 

“I tried waking you up as softly as I could, but you wouldn’t budge.” He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes fixed on the white blanket.

Lando peeked up from the floor, his face the exact shade of a stop sign. “It’s—don’t apologize,” he mumbled quickly. Then, quieter, half to himself, “How the hell did I end up here again?”

Oscar definitely heard that, but decided silence was the safest option. 

After a long pause, Lando squinted up at him. “Did you lock the door last night?” 

Oscar nodded slowly. “Pretty sure I did.”

Lando groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Then how am I here?” He muttered, like maybe the ceiling would answer him. “I’m sorry, dude. I have no idea why this keeps happening. This never happens back home, I swear—I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“It’s oka—”

“I swear to God, I need to be leashed.” Lando interrupted, throwing his hands over his face and collapsing backward with a groan.

Oscar couldn’t help but laugh quietly. “It’s okay, really. I don’t—” he hesitated, looking down at the sheets, then back at Lando, voice softening, “I don’t mind.”

Lando froze. His hands slid down just enough for his eyes to peek over his fingers—and instantly regretted it. Because right then, with sunlight spilling through the curtains, Oscar looked unfairly good.

Like—unreasonably good.

The light hit his skin just right, warm and golden, and his cheeks were dusted pink. Not just embarrassed pink—the kind of pink that looked soft and alive, the kind that made Lando’s stomach twist.

God, he even blushed pretty. The kind of pretty that Lando would spend hours on the internet just to find the exact hex of that pink.

Lando blinked. Do not— WTF? Do not Google that shade of pink— What are you even thinking, he scolded himself, jerking his gaze away so fast his neck almost cracked.

He cleared his throat, desperate to sound normal—and failing spectacularly. “Hahahahhaha, thanks bro.”

Oh lord help me, Lando cringed.

Oscar chuckled under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “You really need to stop sounding like you’re held at gunpoint every time we talk in the morning.”

“Hard not to when I keep waking up like I’ve broken into your bed,” Lando shot back.

Oscar smiled. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He got off the bed, “you can stay here if you’d like. I don't think breakfast is going to be done anytime soon.” He went over the bed, walking towards Lando.

Lando blinked as Oscar stopped in front of him and held out a hand. For a second, he just stared at it, then reached out—Oscar’s grip was warm, firm, and unnecessarily steady for someone who had just thrown him into cardiac arrest by existing.

He was pulled easily to his feet, now standing far too close. Lando’s brain shorted again, his eyes darting everywhere but Oscar’s face—the wall, the lamp, the stupidly perfect folds of the blanket.

“Yeah, okay, thanks.”

Oscar hummed, a teasing smile spread across his face before his hands reached out to mess up Lando’s curls.

“See you,” he walked out of the room. The door clicked, the sounds of Oscar’s footsteps slipping away.

Lando buried his face onto his hands, I'm not falling. He repeats to himself like it was a chant that could magically pull every feeling he had in his body.

Breakfast rolled around an hour later, with George taking on the sacred duty of waking everyone up. Determined not to anger the queen herself (Alex), he ditched his usual chaos and, shockingly, went for a gentle approach this time

By the time everyone stumbled into the kitchen, the smell of toast and orange juice filled the air. Oscar was already at the counter, flipping the last batch onto a plate while George proudly claimed all the credit.

Now the group was scattered—some around the dining table, others slouched across the couch like zombies in pajamas. Everyone seems to be in a great mood, and we can all thank Alex for it.

Pierre was half-asleep, munching his toast with one eye open. Daniel had sunglasses on for no apparent reason. Charles was buttering his toast like it was a life-or-death mission. Lando eyed him, noticing the tiny things after what he had discovered yesterday.

Max walked from the kitchen, approaching Charles who was crouched on the carpet, eyes glued on the television. Max sat beside him, hands rubbing Charles back with a sleepy smile, he nodded towards the orange juice he brought for him.

Charles smiled, all bright and shy, head pressed against Max’s side while they watched the TV together.

Lando looked around to see if anyone had noticed them and yet—no one bats an eye. It was true, Max and Charles didn’t even try hiding the fact that they were together, everyone was just too busy to notice these tiny things.

He walked towards them both, taking a seat at the couch right behind them. “Gay,” he whispered only for them both to hear. Charles choked as Max teasingly tickled Lando’s feet. Lando yelped but held it in, not wanting to grab attention.

Lando smiled proudly, leaning back and folding his feet up. Munching on his egg toast. Then Charles turned around, grabbing his attention. 

“Have you told anyone about it?”

Lando shook his head. “Why should I? It’s your business.”

Charles smiled, a quiet kind of appreciation flickering across his face. Before the silence could settle, Max spoke up—casual, like he was just asking about the weather. “You told Oscar though, didn’t you?”

Lando frowned. “No? Why’d you think that?”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Max said. “We won’t tell anyone else what we saw.”

Charles and Max exchanged mischievous looks, both grinning like a bunch of kids hiding a secret.

Lando blinked. “What did you guys see?”

“We saw you sneak out of your room yesterday to go Oscar’s, around 1 or 2? We were still in the living room and somehow you didn’t even notice us.” Charles said.

“What?”

“Yeah, pretty sure Oscar was awake too, so we just assumed that maybe.. you were just like us. Plus we were well aware that you walked out of Oscar’s room—and that Oscar insisted on waking you up—“

“Wait— wait what?— God, I was actually sleepwalking..” Lando cuts him off, not even fully registering every word Charles said, as he dragged a hand down his face. “I was actually sleepwalking. I swear. It’s been happening since the second day of this trip. I fall asleep next to George and Alex, and somehow I wake up next to Oscar.”

Max’s head whipped toward him. “What?”

“I don’t even know dude,” Lando shrugged.

“I don’t even know, dude,” Lando muttered, sounding more defeated than confused.

“Maybe your body’s just… attracted to Oscar,” Max teased, the grin already forming.

Lando shoved him. “It’s not! He’s just a friend. Like all of you are. Plus, we’re not even that close. It’d be weird if I did like him. Which I don’t. And even if I did, he wouldn’t like me back anyway.”

Max and Charles shared a long, knowing look, then turned back to the TV in unison. “Yeah, right,” they said together.

“What does that mean?” Lando frowned. No answer. “Seriously, what does that mean?” Still nothing. “Okay, mate. In my defense, I was asleep.”

They hummed, harmoniously, teasingly. “WH— I’M SERIOUS!”

“Dude okay, you can’t be that blind. Oscar is definitely in love with you.” Charles turned around again, Lando followed Charles’s gaze to where Oscar was—laughing, juggling three oranges with Daniel, completely oblivious.

“You’re joking.” Lando said flatly, raising both his brows.

Charles shrugged, “because, truth be told, if I was him. I would lock my door just so you wouldn’t sleepwalk into my room. So let that thought sink in,” he turned back and glanced back again.

Adding, “and, just so you know. Max and I? Wasn’t even that close to begin with, even hated his guts at the beginning, now look. Things work out, feelings come out of a sudden, you don’t need an explanation for them. That's how love works, Lando. It comes when you least expect it,” he smiled.

He leaned back, resting his head on Max’s shoulder—knowing for a fact that his words have left an impact on Lando. 

Lando glanced back at where Oscar was, laughing his head off at what Daniel had said. Does it seem as bad as he ought it to be? So what’s wrong is he finds comfort sharing a bed with Oscar? Why does he feel comfortable? He leans back, suddenly losing his appetite. Just staring blankly at the empty seat across from him. 

.

.

They’d somehow all squeezed into a tiny rented van—the kind that looked like it might give up halfway through a hill. Well that’s what you get for trusting Charles for doing the renting business. 

Max was behind the wheel, forced upon Alex’s wish. Alex claimed shotgun, only because he was the one leading everyone to their destination today. George and Charles took the second row, shoulder to shoulder, Charles whistling a song quietly while George was busy adjusting the AC vents like his life depended on it.

Daniel and Pierre occupied the third, sharing snacks and arguing about who packed the worst playlist. And crammed in the very back, a tangle of limbs and chaos, Oscar, Lando, and Carlos—collectively the van’s loudest and most restless section.

“Why does it smell like wet socks back here?” Lando complained, kicking at the seat in front of him. “Carlos, did you even shower, Mate?” Carlos gasped dramatically, hands to his chest. “That’s your hoodie, mate.”

Carlos shook his head in disbelief, being dramatic per-usual. “Don’t make me turn this van around,” he said in his best dad voice. 

Pierre leaned over the seat. “You’re not even driving.”

Carlos shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I can’t threaten discipline.”

Daniel snorted, Lando huffed, losing rock-paper-scissors and a comfortable seat was definitely not on his morning bingo. Thankfully, Oscar had taken the middle spot, so Lando wouldn't have to spend the entire ride fighting for leg space with Carlos. 

“Okay, I’m serious,” Lando said, sitting up halfway. “Does anyone have perfume? Or anything that sprays good smells? Because Charles picked the stinkiest van to rent.”

“Wha– this was the only vehicle that could fit 9 people! If you want to blame someone, blame it on Alex! We could’ve just rented two cars but instead he wants everyone to fit on one just for ‘bonding experiences’” Charles puts his fingers up, quoting Alex. 

Alex scoffed, “hey! God forbid a guy who wants to spend his entire day with his friends!” Alex and Charles started to bicker non sense. And to worsen things up, Pierre was starting to feel carsick from how bumpy the roads were. 

“Dude! Back to the topic, please! Does anyone have any perfume!?” Lando tries screaming, the sounds of Charles and Alex overlapping him. 

George groaned, Max hit a bump, and suddenly everyone screamed in overlapping accents. The two started bickering nonsense immediately — loud, fast, overlapping. Meanwhile, Pierre was turning progressively greener from the road’s endless bumps.

“Guys!” Lando tried to yell over them. “Can we please get back to the perfume thing before I suffocate?”

George groaned, Max hit a pothole, and suddenly the entire van screamed in overlapping accents. Lando lost his grip on George’s seat and lurched backward—bracing for impact with the window—only for Oscar to react on instinct. His hand slammed against the glass behind Lando’s head, stopping it just in time.

He had his other arm in front—which Lando was holding onto—eyes widened from panic. “You okay?” his words came out sharp, worried. But Lando was too busy trying to ignore how Oscar's biceps felt against his hand and back. 

Lando had never expected—not that he had ever imagined Oscar’s biceps, but the dude had arms. Like actual arms, the ones you get for lifting weights for weeks. HE WAS JACKED—

“Lando?” 

Oscar raised his brows, waiting. Lando blinked, gulping the lump on the back of his throat before he managed a nod. 

Oscar nods back, pulling his arms back. Lando faced front, hands on his knee, now sitting like a polite kid just trying to be the first to go home from school. Then out of a sudden–

“Guys, I think I'm going to puke.” Pierre said, one hand on his stomach, the other on his mouth. It was a moment of silence before the van burst into complete chaos. 

.

.

Turns out the Avocado they ate this morning had expired long ago, Alex whispers something about being thankful for choosing the egg toast instead of the avocado toast. 

Pierre lay dramatically on the hospital bed, pale but still full of energy to complain. He pointed weakly at George and Oscar. “You two owe me so much.”

George immediately looked away. “Sooo,” he said, pretending to check his phone, “did anyone else eat the avocado toast?” No response, “okay amazing!”

“Wait– are you going to leave me here to rot alone!?” Pierre gasped, George rolled his eyes. “No we won’t, I guess we have to cancel today's plan?—”

“Wait—what? You’re just gonna leave me here to rot alone?” Pierre gasped, clutching his blanket like a tragic movie hero.

George sighed. “No, we won’t. I guess we’ll have to cancel today’s plans—”

“OH, HELL NO!” Alex cut him off before he could finish. “I made that reservation myself. I spent hours last night searching through sketchy travel blogs. We are not wasting it.”

Pierre groaned. “So you are leaving me to die alone. Great. What happened to ‘bonding experience’, huh?”

Charles patted his arm gently. “Hey, at least now we’ll have a story to tell when we get back?” Pierre frowned. “That’s not comforting, Charles.”

Daniel raised his hand, cheerful as ever. “I don’t mind staying! Towns aren’t really my thing anyway. What if we walk into a cult or something—like that scene from Ballerina?” He referenced the new John Wick movie. 

Everyone turned to stare at him. Just… stared.

Daniel blinked. “What?”

“Okay! Amazing!” Alex clapped his hands. “You two can stay here then. The rest of us will see you back at the cabin.” And just like that, they all filed out, leaving Pierre groaning and Daniel humming the John Wick theme beside his bed.

.

.

The day carried on with Alex in full tour-guide mode, gesturing dramatically at every artifact they passed and rambling about history, local gods, and—according to George—at least one completely made-up legend involving a “potato deity of abundance.”

They stopped by antique shops and thrift stores, where Alex and Lando made it their personal mission to befriend every elderly shop owner they met. By the time they’d finished chatting about cats, weather, and “the good old days,” the sun was already sliding west.

Soon enough, they’ve somehow found their way to the seaside—quiet and comfortable, the town wasn’t crowded to begin with. Just the perfect amount of civilization.

Everyone climbed up onto the sea wall, legs dangling, faces turned to the horizon as the waves rolled in. The sky casted a purple-pink tone, so beautiful it almost seemed fake.

“Daniel and Pierre are so missing out,” Carlos said, stretching with a lazy grin.

George hummed, “Yeah, I wonder what they’re doing right now.”

No one answered, too lost in the calm. Lando turned to say something to Charles—only to catch sight of Charles and Max instead, pinkies interlocked, shoulders pressed together, smiles soft and wordless.

They had that thing—whatever this was—that made everyone else want it too. That ease, that quiet understanding. Lando had wanted that kind of bond once, back when he thought love ruined friendships. But watching them now… maybe it didn’t always end badly.

Maybe friends-to-lovers could actually work out.

He was halfway lost in that thought when he noticed Oscar beside him, head drooping, hand clutching his temple. Panic flicked on Lando’s face, hands reaching out instinctively on Oscar’s shoulder.

“Hey, you alright?—“ Lando couldn’t even finish his sentence, Oscar's body just leaned weakly towards him. “Wh— Osc,” he lowered his voice, panicking. “Are you okay? What's wrong?” 

“‘M fine,” Oscar murmured, voice low and steady. “Just… Can I lean here for a sec?”

Lando nodded, “yeah, yeah of course. Don’t worry about it,” he tried being casual about it, Oscar’s warmth pressed into his shoulder. The scent of his hair—chocolate—hit him in waves every time the wind blew. Lando tried to act casual, staring straight ahead like he wasn’t melting inside.

Act cool. Act cool. Act— I CAN’T.

“Oscar, are you sure you’re okay?”

“It’s probably the avocado kicking in,” Oscar said so casually. As if he didn’t know about what happened to Pierre.

Lando's eyes widened almost instantly, “WHAT— sorry, what?! You ate the avocado toast?? Why didn’t you say so when we were back in the hospital?! We have to tell George, right now.”

“Wait no,” Oscar stopped Lando from standing up. “They’re gonna make a big fuss out of this. I’ll be fine—“

“Hell you will, I'm sorry but I'm not letting my friend die on a summer trip. George! Ge— GEORGE RUSSEL!!” Lando screamed, arms still wrapped behind Oscar’s back to keep him stable.

Everyone’s heads whipped toward them.

“What?!” George asked, already halfway on his feet.

“Oscar ate the avocado toast!”

“WHAT?!” Everyone screamed in union, Max stood up immediately. “We’re going to the hospital.” 

“Are you okay?!”

“Why didn’t you say something?!”

“Should we go now?!”

“Are you feeling sick?!”

“Do you feel like puking??”

“Do you need a plastic bag??”

“Where’s the nearest drug store, he needs medicine ASAP.”

Oscar glanced up at Lando helplessly, giving him a ‘I told you’ look. Lando chuckled awkwardly, mouthing “sorry.” 

Thirty minutes later, the tiny rented van was back on the road, rattling through the narrow lanes toward their cabin. Max drove like a man with a mission, Alex rode shotgun, again, loudly insisting he had everything under control.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” George asked from the second row for the fifth time. No response—panic rises up again–everyone swings their head 180°. Only to find Lando stiffly sitting with an awkward smile, Oscar had his head resting against his shoulder. 

“Jesus– fucking scared the living hell out of me.” Max kept his eyes back on the road,  everyone turned away with a relief sigh. 

Charles leaned over Max’s seat. “Since Oscar’s asleep, should we just drive to the hospital–”

“Don’t you dare,” Oscar said quickly. “No hospitals. I’m good. I just need sleep.” 

“Dude, wtf? WERE YOU IGNORING ME??” George said dramatically. A smile painted on Oscar's lips, eyes still shut. 

“You ask too many question–”

“WHA– just so you know, this is how a normal friend reacts when they find out that their friend might DIE out of food poisoning. PEOPLE DIE FROM FOOD POISONING Y’KNOW?!”

“Around 420,000 people die globally from foodborne diseases a year,” Alex randomly dropped a fact. 

Getting judging eyes from Max, “what? I may or may not have browsed too far on the internet?”

“I’m literally fine, I'm not gagging, nor am I having diarrhoea, my head just hurts. I’m not dying,” he said, shifting deeper to Lando’s shoulder. 

Lando closed his eyes, clutching onto his shirt, feeling like he was the one sick instead from how warm his cheek feels. 

Carlos, from the front, whispered to Charles, “He’s totally not fine.”

And when Charles turned around to offer some water, he paused mid-way, smirking at the sight he’s witnessing. He made it obvious he is reaching for his phone, snapping a photo of the scene with the widest teasing grin one has ever seen.

“So in love,” he mouthed. Lando flipped him off. 

.

.

The night came by, Pierre was miraculously feeling 10x better than he had previously felt. Daniel started showing pics he took of Pierre, crying over the movie ‘Up’. Then in exchange, Charles showed the picture he took of the stores they went to.

Everyone gathered around the couch, except for Pierre and Oscar who were in their rooms resting up.

The living room lights were dimmed. Pride and Prejudice flickered on the TV, soft piano spilling into the room, and Alex sat forward like it was sacred scripture.

“You have bewitched me, body and soul… and I love, I love, I love you.”

Lando sat curled into the couch, one knee pulled to his chest, a throw blanket half-forgotten around him. He wasn’t watching the screen. Wasn’t listening to Darcy.

His gaze kept drifting—again, again—to Oscar’s closed bedroom door down the dim hallway.

Max might've noticed, "I wonder how Oscar’s doing, should someone go check on him? Lando, can you check on him?” He said, not waiting for anyone else’s reply. 

“Yeah, can you go check, Lando?” Charled winked at Lando, who then chuckled while shaking his head in disbelief.

“Right, make sure he eats his pills too.” George said, mouth filled with popcorn. 

“Aye aye.”

Lando opened Oscar’s door quietly. The room was dark except for the soft moonlight spilling in, silver against the sheets. Oscar was curled up under the blanket, turned away, breathing slow.

The soft songs coming from his ipod, the writing clear on it.

> playing "Fallingforyou" — The 1975

Lando crouched beside the bed and reached gently for Oscar’s forehead. Before he could even touch, Oscar blinked awake, sleepy eyes lifting to him.

“Hi, loops.” Oscar said, coming out more like a whisper. 

Lando felt his heart shutter, maybe it was the mood they were set up to (yeah go on blame the mood again, Lando) that made Lando feel like everything could be possible at this moment 

“Hi,” Lando smiled. His hands moving on its own, sliding down to cup Oscar’s cheek, brushing against his jaw. Oscar closed his eyes, leaning against his touch.

I shouldn’t be doing this, Lando thought.

“Have you had your meds?” He asked. Oscar hummed, “George threatened to bring me to the hospital if I didn’t.” 

Lando laughed, “yeah. I would've done that myself too.” He swallowed, forcing his hand to fall away. “Alright. I just came to check on you. Get some rest.”

He started to stand—but Oscar’s fingers closed around his wrist, weak but film enough.

“Sta—”

Lando cut him off before he could finish. “Get well soon, Oscar.” Then left the room without looking back. 

The truth was, Lando didn’t allow Oscar to finish because he knew what he was asking, and he knew that he would do anything he asked for. Lando didn’t want that, he’s a friend. 

Charles and Max turned when Lando left the room, both looking surprised, not expecting Lando to leave the room that quickly. 

Max raised his brows, mouthing—“what happened?”—in reply, Lando shaked his head.

Mouthing back, “nothing.” 

Climbing back to the spot he previously sat on. Staring at the screen, pretending to watch the movie, ignoring the churning in his stomach—and the way both boys kept watching him, like they already knew.

Chapter Text

Morning arrived like a whisper rather than a knock.

Lando felt it before he fully woke—the warmth tucked around his body, the heaviness in his limbs, the lazy comfort that came from having fallen asleep without meaning to. 

The couch wasn’t much compared to a real bed, but it felt unfairly perfect. Soft, warm. Like his bones had finally decided to unclench.

Sound crept in next, gentle and far-away at first.

A slow, soft song floated through the room—acoustic strings and a voice barely above a hum, the type of music people put on when they want the morning to stay unbroken just a little longer. 

> playing “Shiny penny” — Oranje Space

Beneath it, the steady whisper of water outside, the lake brushing lazily against the shore as if it, too, was waking reluctantly.

The cabin breathed with him. Wood settling. Curtains shifting as a breeze slipped through a cracked window. Pine and cool air and something warm—something cooking.

Then came the quiet clinks from the kitchen behind him. A mug placed down carefully. A cupboard opened and closed. 

Someone moving with the kind of care that only exists when they think you’re still asleep and they don’t want to interrupt the peace of the moment.

Lando’s eyes opened slowly.

Light was already spilling into the living room, morning sun pushing its way between the thin curtains in soft bands of gold. Dust motes drifted lazily in the beam, and outside, the lake caught the colors of a sky still deciding what day it wanted to be—lavender, pale orange, the faintest pink bleeding at the edges.

He looks down, finding himself wrapped up in a blanket that wasn’t previously there. He exhaled, slow. Felt the blanket shift against his chest. 

A small clink came from the kitchen behind, Lando slowly shifted to get a better sight at who was awake this early. 

He frowned, narrowing his eyes, his eyesight still blurred and drowsy. Lando rubbed his hands across his eyes, humming, “Oscar?” He called out, more like a question.

Oscar turned around, holding a plate of cereal. “Morning,” he smiled.

Lando sat up, rubbing his head. “What time is it?” 

He glanced at the clock, 5:44am, it was way too early for George to be awake. Which explained why Lando was woken up by soft music instead of demons singing.

“It’s still so early, what are you doing?” He pushed himself off the couch, the cool breeze blowing the soul out of him as he shivered. 

“You should get some rest,” Lando approached Oscar, eyes still half-open.

Oscar placed his bowl down, leaning against the counter, “you look like you need it more than me.”

Lando chuckled, just to give a reaction. His hands reached out the moment he stood in front of Oscar. He could see the slight shift of Oscar’s face, the way his shoulder tensed up for a second before he let loose.

“Do you still feel sick?” Lando murmured, moving on to checking the temperature of Oscar’s neck.

Oscar cleared his throat, “no.” 

Lando nodded, pulling his hands back. “Drank your meds?” He leaned against the counter across from Oscar, rubbing his face.

“Yeah,” Oscar replied. “Didn’t sleepwalk, huh?”

Lando let out a low laugh, “yeah. Thank god, I really thought I had to leash myself down.” 

Oscar chuckled—but it didn’t land right. Something thin, stretched, like there was a thought behind it he wasn’t sharing.

“Yeah,” he paused. “Well I'm gonna go out, you could just go back to sleep. I bet George won’t give us a break today,” Oscar picked up his bowl, moving toward the hall.

“Hm— wait, I want to come along too.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. I’ll meet you outside then? I have to grab something real quick,” He disappeared into his room, door shutting gently behind him.

Lando yawned, stretching his arms up, and made his way to the door. The moment he cracked it open, the world exhaled into him.

Cold, clean air kissed his skin, washing sleep from him better than any coffee could. The scent of wet earth and pine, lake water and early dawn—all crisp and new and impossibly fresh.

His breath puffed faintly in the chill.

The porch creaked as he stepped onto it. He moved to the swing bench, wood cool under him, metal chains groaning softly as he settled.

The lake glimmered softly in the rising light. The world was quiet in that magic way morning sometimes offered—a hush that felt sacred, untouched.

For a moment, he just sat there. Breathing. Letting cold air sting his cheeks in the nicest way. 

Just a few moments later, the door behind him clicked softly. 

“Here,” Oscar offered a warm mug. “Found some tea bags,” Lando smiled and took it.

“Thank you— oh, oh um,” Lando sat straight, allowing Oscar to wrap him up with the blanket he found previously on top of him back at the couch. 

“Tha— thank you..” Lando stuttered, leaning back. Watching as Oscar nodded and sat at the chair across from him. Lando stared, his eyes not being able to look away for far longer than 2 seconds.

It was crazy, just a few days ago Lando was scared—afraid, that it’ll be awkward for him and Oscar to share a bed, how awful it could’ve been the days after. But now, those thoughts felt silly to even be worth considering.

Because somehow, in just a span of one night, Lando was comfortable. And in this very right moment, it felt as if he needed to tell him that he was lovely and sweet, and warmer than any hot cocoa on a winter night could ever feel.

That Lando was unsure, twisted in his own thoughts, afraid—but not so afraid that he couldn’t pull himself together into some semblance of a friend for him.

That without meaning to, he’d begun to lean for him, to look for him, to need him near. 

He needed to thank him for the warm tea, for the blanket. He needed to apologize for not letting him finish, for not staying by his side when he was sick, that—

Loud yawning was heard back in the living room, both Oscar and Lando turned around, finding George walking down the stairs with a microphone and speaker in his hands.

Lando couldn’t help but laugh, “at least we won’t be woken up by his singing this time.” Oscar chuckled, “yep.” 

Activities for the day:

✅First activity: breakfast by the lake

🔲Second activity: hiking

🔲Third activity: Dinner at town

🔲Fourth activity: Stargazing

How George even managed to find a hiking trail this bad was beyond anyone’s comprehension. 

No words could quite describe it—roots like booby traps, rocks waiting to snap an ankle, and mud so deep it could swallow a shoe whole. If a random hiker stumbled across this path, they’d think it was a setup for a missing person documentary.

“C’MON, C’MON!!!” George yells from the front, hyping everyone up.

“Shut up, asshole!” Max yelled back, voice echoing through the trees.

Everyone clung to their backpacks like lifelines—backpacks, of course, that George insisted they bring “for essentials.” Now they just felt like anchors dragging them to hell.

“Oh my god, how much further?!” Daniel whined, barely keeping himself upright. He latched onto Max’s shoulder for balance, and somehow, Max actually let him.

George squinted at the crumpled map in his hands, mumbling, “Uhh… just a few more minutes?”

“So you have no idea where we are,” Carlos deadpanned, wiping sweat off his forehead.

“Hey, come on, have a little faith in me!” George tried, forcing a laugh that didn’t fool anyone.

“George, you’re draining the life out of me in real time,” Charles complained, dragging his feet through another patch of uneven dirt.

Another thirty minutes (and three near-death slips) later, the group finally stumbled onto the peak—and, miraculously, the view made it all worth it. The sky stretched wide and clear, the morning sun spilling gold over endless green. 

They all stood in silence, breathing hard, but smiling. Pierre, hands on his knees, muttered, “Okay… fine. You get one point, Russell.”

George grinned, smug as ever. “Told you it’d be worth it.”

Alex dropped his bag to the ground. “If I die on the way back, I’m haunting you.”

Daniel, sprawled on the grass, pointed weakly toward the horizon. “Worth it… but if we don’t find food soon, I’m eating whoever’s closest.”

“Not it,” Lando said instantly, finger on his nose. 

“Alright, who packed the food?” George asked. Everyone dropped their backpack, dropping down to the grass. 

“I got some on mine,” Oscar replied, hands rummaging through his bag before taking out the wrapped up burrito.

“OOOOO~ Throw me one, Piastri.” Daniel raised his hands, catching the burrito and instantly unwrapping it. 

“I got the rice balls,” Alex placed down the container, Pierre immediately launched himself towards it, grabbing and shoving one into his mouth, humming in satisfaction. 

Pierre froze mid-chew, then asked. “Wait, there’s no avocado in here, is there?” Everyone laughed. 

“No avocado,” Alex assured him, popping one into his own mouth.

Meanwhile, Lando wandered off a bit, stepping up onto a rock near the edge. He sat down, pulling out his phone to snap a photo of the view—green hills meeting a blue horizon, the kind of thing that didn’t even need a filter.

“Not eating, mate?” Charles’s voice came from behind him. He offered Lando a wrap.

“Had a big breakfast,” Lando said, smiling. “Plus George already took the hunger out of me with his death march of a hike.”

Charles snorted, sitting beside him. “Y’know—”

“If you’re about to start getting philosophical again,” Lando interrupted, “please save it for tonight.”

Charles put his hands up. “Alright, alright. You got me.”

They both laughed, settling into the kind of silence that didn’t feel awkward—just peaceful, with the wind brushing past and their friends bickering somewhere behind them.

After a while, Lando spoke again. “How did you figure out you liked Max?”

Charles blinked. “Oh wow, straight to the point, huh?”

Lando chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just curious.”

“Well I don’t really remember specifically when I fell for him, but I do know when I realized.”

Lando frowned, “is that not the same thing?”

Charles shook his head. “You don’t notice when you fall for someone. It happens in passing—in a laugh you weren’t even paying attention to, or the way your pulse forgets how to behave when they look at you too long.” 

He glanced toward Max, who was busy teasing Alex with an empty water bottle. “Falling isn’t graceful. It’s not something you do, it’s something that happens to you. Like gravity, quiet and certain, pulling you toward them even when you swear you’re standing still.”

Lando followed his gaze—though his eyes didn’t stop on Max. They drifted, inevitably, to Oscar.

Charles smiled. “But realizing you like them… that’s when the noise stops. It’s the calm after the stumble—the breath after the heartbeat. You start to see it clearly. How they’ve slipped into every thought. How even your silence feels different when they’re in it. To fall for someone is to lose balance. To realize you like them is to find meaning in the fall.”

Silence came, then— 

“Holly fuck, Charles.”

“I know.”

“Holly fuck, Charles.”

“I know dude, I know.”

“...Wow. Genuinely, wow...”

Charles couldn't help it but laugh, it really wasn’t something the group did often. Saying things like this, just sitting down and talking about feelings. Sure they do talk with each other, but it had always been about what they wanted to accomplish with each other, the memories that passed, everything but whatever this is. 

“So…” Charles nudged him, wiggling his eyebrows.

Lando squinted. “So… what?”

“Do you like Oscar?” Charles said straight off the bat.

Lando choked on absolutely nothing. His eyes went wide as he coughed violently.

Charles panicked. “D—dude, are you okay? Oh, oh wow, you’re actually choking. You’re actually— CHOKING! GEORGE! DO YOU HAVE WATER? LANDO’S DYING!”

“WHAT?” George's head whipped so fast, mid-bite of a burrito.

“NO– I’M FINE! Just air being air.” Lando covered Charles' mouth, dragging him back down. Lando told him to stay silent, threatening to jump off the cliff (he’ll actually do it for fun) if he says anything else about Oscar. 

“Alright, alright—can I have everyone’s attention?” Daniel suddenly jumped to his feet, clapping his hands like a game show host. That alone was enough to get everyone’s attention.

“What now…” Max muttered through a mouthful of rice balls.

Daniel grinned and, with a dramatic flourish, pulled a small speaker from his backpack.

“What the hell,” Max said again, slower this time.

“I have a performance to share,” Daniel declared, eyes gleaming. “And for this, I’ll need my very special dance partner—PIERRE GASSSSLYYYY!”

George groaned immediately, burying his face in his hands. “Oh, for god’s sake…”

Charles and Lando shared a look, both intrigued. George took out his phone, scrolling till he clicked a song. And slowly the music starts to fade in, and immediately—  

“DUDE!” Lando shot up from where he sat. “NO WAY. THIS IS MY JAM!” He sprinted over to them, already moving his shoulders to the rhythm. “Footloose, baby!” Daniel whooped, throwing his arms up as Pierre tried not to laugh. 

And just like that, the chaos unfolded.

Daniel was doing exaggerated 80s kicks, Pierre was pretending to hate every second but somehow still nailing every step, and Lando was in his element—dancing like his life depended on it, laughing between each move.

“Get up, losers!” Lando yelled at the others between breaths. “No one sits during Footloose!” Max groaned from the grass. “Absolutely not.”

Lando didn’t take no for an answer. He grabbed Max by the arm, dragging him to his feet. “C’mon, partypooper! You’ve got rhythm somewhere in that depressing frame!”

Charles was already laughing too hard to resist, joining in beside them with a surprisingly decent two-step. Carlos tried to back away—bad move. 

Daniel and Pierre both grabbed him by the hands, pulling him into the mess of movement. “No escape, amigo!”

“¡Ay dios mío!” Carlos laughed, but he didn’t push away.

Even Oscar, who had been quietly watching from the side, couldn’t help it but laugh.

Lando locked eyes with him mid-spin, grinning wide. “Oi, Piastri, don’t think I don’t see you sitting there—get over here!”

“I don’t dance!” Oscar protested, but Lando was already on his way to him, hands reaching out with a stupidly wide grin. 

“Everybody dance! C’mon,” he raised his brows, "I'll guide you.” 

Oscar smiled in defeat and Lando immediately took it as a yes, grabbing his wrist, dragging him into the crowd of swaying bodies and wild laughter.

Alex joined in next, because of course he did, yelling “THIS IS A BONDING EXPERIENCE!” while trying to mimic Daniel’s ridiculous kicks.

By the time the chorus hit, the entire group was on their feet—jumping, laughing, spinning, completely out of rhythm but not caring in the slightest. 

The speaker was too small for the moment it carried, echoing into the quiet mountain air, their voices and laughter bouncing against the trees. And for once, there was nothing else—no worries—just a bunch of idiots dancing on top of the world.

When the song finally ended, they all collapsed in a heap—gasping, grinning, faces red from laughing too much. 

“Okay,” George panted, lying flat on the grass. 

“Wow, I still got them moves.” Lando proudly said, laid flat on the ground. 

Max was wheezing, hair a mess. “Never again.”

“Tomorrow night,” Daniel said immediately. Everyone groaned—then laughed again.

Activities for the day:

✅First activity: breakfast by the lake

✅Second activity: hiking (plus accidental dance?)

✅Third activity: Dinner at town

🔲Fourth activity: Stargazing

They made a small fire by the edge, more smoke than flame, but enough to keep them warm. The bonfire crackled gently at the edge of the dock, throwing sparks up into the night. The air smelled like salt and smoke, waves brushing against the wood below. 

Everyone sat in a loose circle, wrapped in blankets they’d dragged from the cabin, faces lit by the orange glow.

Charles had found a guitar in the cabin earlier—old, slightly out of tune, but charming in that way—and now strummed quietly, half-playing, half-thinking.

Carlos and Alex were arguing about the “correct” way to toast marshmallows, Daniel was retelling an old story for the third time, and Pierre laughed so hard he nearly fell backward off the dock. George tried to catch him but somehow made it worse. 

And Max was fast asleep.

Lando sat at the edge with his legs hanging off, watching his reflection disappear every time the water moved. 

Oscar joined him quietly, like he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.

For a while, they just sat there—not talking, just listening. The crackle of the fire, Charles mumbling a song that kept changing halfway through, Daniel’s laugh echoing behind them.

Oscar started making soft static noises, catching Lando off guard. A phone in hand, camera already rolling. His voice dropped into a bad imitation of a wildlife narrator’s whisper.

“Krrr— krrr– To your left, just a few meters away. Here we have the rare, nocturnal creature known as Maximus Verstappenus,” he said, zooming in dramatically on Max, who was passed out on the couch, arm thrown over his face like he’d just survived a war.

Lando, surprised, bit his lip to keep from laughing.

“Notice how he sleeps, completely unbothered by his natural predators, such as responsibility or George Russell.” Lando snorted. 

Oscar glanced at him for a moment, smiling, and continued, keeping his voice serious. “This majestic beast can drive at three hundred kilometers per hour, yet is defeated by a single burrito and a long day in the sun.” He zoomed in closer, catching Max’s faint snore.

“Ah, and here we hear the mating call—a deep, guttural rumble that signals his contentment in his natural habitat.” Lando finally lost it, laughter bubbling out uncontrollably. 

“Mate, stop it! You’re going to anger the lion,” Lando laughed, shoving Oscar’s phone down and turning it off. He couldn’t stop laughing—hands clutching his stomach, breath caught between giggles.

Oscar set his phone aside, still smiling as he watched him.

“What was that for?” Lando asked, wiping at his eyes, cheeks warm from laughter.

Oscar shrugged, casual but with that small grin that never gave him away completely. “Always wanted to film a wild animal. Luckily we had a lion nearby.”

Lando shook his head, grin still tugging at his lips. “You’re a complete idiot, Osc.”

“Yet you laughed, loops.” Loops. 

“Why do you call me that?” Lando tried sounding casual, but truth be told, his heart had started to quicken the moment Oscar sat beside him. 

“Hm?”

From somewhere behind them, Charles started strumming softly on the guitar, his voice spilling gently into the night.

“Loops,” Lando said again, turning to look at him. “Why do you call me that? You said it yesterday too.” He regretted it the moment he saw him under the moonlight.

Oscar kept his gaze on the lake, the reflection of the bonfire flickering in his eyes. 

“Your curls are like loops,” he said after a pause, then hesitated. His next words came softer. “I like them.” 

He turned, and for a moment, their eyes met in the glow of the firelight—too long, too heavy, too much. 

“I like..” Oscar’s voice softens.

Lando fist wrapped around his shirt, hopelessly nervous, breath quickening in a way he never knew could quicken. 

“I like..” 

Oscar parted his mouth, but closed after. Turning away from Lando, “I like your curls. That’s why I called you loops.” 

Oh. 

Lando blinked, looking at the lake. He breathed in, heart racing so quick he felt as if he was about to be on a crime scene, and he was the one dead. 

Lando closed his eyes, his mind started to fog up, all the feelings hitting him like a train wreck—his body rejecting all of the unfamiliar feelings.

“I’m gonna go back in,” he stood up. “Goodnight,” Lando didn’t wait and left. Rushing more than walking.

Charles paused mid-song, confused. “Wait, what? Dude, I wasn’t done singing— where are you going?”

“IN! I’M TIRED!” Lando called back, waving a hand in the air without turning around. 

The fire popped. Someone laughed softly, but Oscar stayed quiet.

Gay dude 🏳️‍🌈 • online

Today

CHARLES IF I DIE ITS ON YOU

THIS IS ALL YOURE FAULT

Dude 

I thought you were asleep

I think I like Oscar

BUT

BUT

OMFG

LETSGOOOOOOOOO

LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOOO

STFU

LET ME TALK

HJUDBGJWKJDBUWQ

OK

OK

OK

SPEAK

SPEAK

SPEAK TO ME

SPEAK TO ME LANDO

OPEN YOUR HEARTS AND TALK TO ME

…

Are you done?

Yeah

Sorry

I don’t know if i do or not

Just awhile ago back in the dock

I SWEAR HE WAS ABOUT TO SAY HE LIKE ME

Or i was being delusional

He didn't say it though

But I was hoping he did..

Dude is that weird?

Hi sorry

Im back

Freaked out a bit

So this is what you’re going to do

Gay dude is typing…

Lando sighs, “okay, it's okay. Just talk to him, Lando.” The words barely left his mouth before a sigh followed. 

He moved down the stairs, careful with every step so the wood wouldn’t creak, so no one else would wake. 

The clock on the wall blinked 2:04 AM. It really was late, but everyone was too caught up in stargazing.

He stopped outside Oscar’s door, hand hovering near the wood. Just one knock—that’s all it would take. But his fingers wouldn’t move. 

His stomach twisted. A drink first. Maybe that would help.

He turned away, padding quietly to the kitchen, filling a glass with cold water. The sound of it echoed in the stillness. 

He placed the glass down—and then—a soft click.

“Lando?” Oscar’s voice, low and sleepy, came from behind him.

Lando froze. Back still turned. He took one breath, two—trying to pull the words from his throat—but before he could, Oscar beat him to it.

“Sleepwalking again?” The words were gentle. Familiar. Like they’d been said before.

Lando knows he shouldn’t, that the worst he can do is run away, that he should listen to Charles and just talk to him. But, just this once, the footsteps came closer, slow and careful. 

Just this once, Lando turns around slowly. Finding Oscar standing a few steps away, still keeping distance.

“Your room’s upstairs,” Oscar said quietly. Like it was routine. Like he already knew.

Lando stepped closer. The space between them grew smaller, thinner—until it felt like one breath could bridge it. 

Charles’ words echoed somewhere in the back of his mind. “Stand close to him, make any contact—it doesn’t matter what, just a brush of a hand, seconds of a touch, then feel. Actually feel it, listen to your body, how it reacts, then you’ll figure out everything at that moment.”

They were now standing a few inches away, Oscar's eyes slightly widened, still not moving a muscle. 

Lando—just slightly—resting his head against Oscar’s shoulder. And the world fell quiet.

Thump, Thump, Thump…

His heartbeat filled the silence.

Thump, Thump, Thump…

He closed his eyes, let it happen. Let himself feel.

Thump, Thump, Thump…

When he finally opened them again, he didn’t say anything. Just stepped past Oscar, quiet and dazed. 

And Oscar—he didn’t say a word either—just followed. A few steps behind. Watching, careful, making sure Lando didn’t trip on the stairs. He waited until Lando was safely in his room before turning back.

Lando sat down on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor. Then he fell back, lying flat, eyes tracing the ceiling. The thought came soft, certain.

I like Oscar Piastri.