3

you were romeo, you were throwin' pebbles

and my daddy said, "stay away from juliet"

i was crying on the staircase, begging you

please don't go

🧡

Oscar hadn't really slept.

He'd dozed at best - light, restless flickers of consciousness interrupted by the weight of that message still pressing on his chest like a brick. His phone remained face-down and dead on the nightstand. He hadn't touched it since. Didn't want to.

Whoever had sent the photo hadn't followed up. But Oscar knew better than to assume that meant it was over. Someone knew. Someone saw. And worse - someone cared enough to threaten him over it.

Stay away from Lando.

And they knew about Mason.

How? Why?

He didn't have answers. Just noise in his head.

But then Lando stirred beside him, a soft little groan tumbling from his lips as he rolled over, his forehead creasing.

Oscar's thoughts dissolved instantly.

"Morning," he said quietly, trying for calm, even as his chest still buzzed with unease.

Lando squinted at him, one eye barely open, voice croaky and half-buried in the pillow. "Ugh." he groaned. Oscar smiled because it was clearly too early for Lando to register a greeting.

"How you feelin'?" Oscar teased lightly.

"Max brought out the absinthe," Lando whined. "And I had two."

He let out a sound that could only be described as a death-rattle. "So like I've been hit by a truck."

Oscar chuckled under his breath. "To be fair, you don't seem to know when to stop."

Lando peeked one bleary eye open. His curls were an absolute disaster - stuck up in three different directions, smushed from the pillow, but somehow still managing to look good. Infuriatingly so.

"I wasn't the one pouring them," Lando muttered, like it was a legal defense. "You try saying no to Daniel Ricciardo."

Oscar rolled his eyes and handed him a glass of water and a strip of paracetamol from the nightstand. "You deserve everything coming to you."

Lando popped the pills into his mouth and chased them with half the glass in one go. Then, through the rim of the cup, he mumbled, "What did I do to deserve you, then?"

Oscar froze. Just for a second. A soft little flicker of warmth crawled under his skin, flushing through his chest like sunlight. Lando didn't even seem to realise what he'd said - or maybe he did, because when Oscar looked down, a blush was already creeping up his own neck.

Lando noticed.

And smirked.

"Oh, no," Oscar said immediately, grabbing the blanket and yanking it up over his head like a shield.

Lando burst out laughing, voice rough and scratchy but no less bright.

Oscar peeked out a second later, cheeks pink. "I think really like more worse," he mimicked.

Lando narrowed his eyes playfully. "Okay, I know I'm dyslexic, but there's no way it was that bad."

Oscar raised an eyebrow. "Lando. You said: 'I think I really like you, Osc. Even though I'm drunk. Maybe that might have made it more worse.'"

Lando's face split into a wide, lazy grin, the kind he only wore when he knew he was caught and decided to own it anyway. "And you said it back, Piastri. I remember that bit."

Oscar looked at him, blinking once. His gaze dropped - almost automatically - to Lando's mouth. The atmosphere shifted, subtle but sharp, like the room itself had exhaled.

"Do you remember..." he said softly, "nearly kissing me?"

Lando didn't look away. He just leaned forward, closing the distance slowly. Deliberately.

And kissed him.

It was soft - barely more than a press of lips, warm and tentative - but it landed like a firework in Oscar's chest. He melted into it, eyes slipping shut as their hands found each other beneath the sheets, fingers tangling like they were always meant to.

Lando pulled back just enough to whisper, "Yeah. And I remember actually kissing you too."

Smirking, cheeky. So Lando.

Oscar rolled his eyes, but he was grinning too, wide and helpless, and he pulled Lando back in, laughter falling against the curve of his smile.

Outside, Monaco buzzed and glittered and moved.

But in that room, in that bed, it was just them - heat and laughter and the quiet, staggering certainty of something real.

🧡

It was mid-morning. Light filtered through the Monaco hotel curtains, soft and golden. Lando was still curled up in bed, duvet tangled around his legs, scrolling aimlessly through Oscar's phone - he'd picked it up without thinking, the way you do when you're half-asleep and bored, waiting for your headache to ease.

Oscar was in the bathroom, brushing his teeth.

And then the screen lit up.

A message.

An unknown number.

Lando's heart stopped.

It was a photo - Oscar, in someone's arms. Kissing them. The angle was blurry, like it had been taken quickly, secretly. The caption beneath it made Lando's stomach twist so violently he thought he might be sick.

If Oscar won't leave you, we'll make you leave him.

The phone slipped from his hands.

It hit the bed with a soft thud, but the sound rang out like a gunshot in the stillness of the room.

Lando sat frozen, hands shaking, breath shallow. His mind was moving at a thousand miles an hour, trying to make sense of it, to figure out who would send something like that. Why. The threat was unspoken, but unmistakable.

We'll make you leave him.

Not Oscar. You.

Something hot and sharp twisted behind his ribs.

He didn't hear Oscar approach.

"Lan?" Oscar called, softly, and then louder, "Lando-"

Oscar came into the room, instantly sensing something was wrong before Lando even turned his head. He saw him hunched over on the bed, curled into himself, hands covering his face.

"Lando?" he rushed over, dropping to his knees in front of him. "Hey, hey- what is it? What happened?"

Lando looked up, eyes glassy and wet, and it broke something in Oscar's chest.

"Please don't go," Lando choked out, voice cracking. "Please don't go."

Oscar's heart nearly stopped. He gathered him into his arms on instinct, wrapping himself around Lando like a shield, holding him tight as his body shook.

"I'm not going anywhere," Oscar whispered. "Lan- what happened?"

Lando didn't answer.

So Oscar reached behind him, grabbed the fallen phone from the sheets - and froze.

He knew that number wasn't the same one from last night. But the tone, the malice, the threat - it was unmistakable. The same person. Different number. Same message.

Different target.

Oscar's jaw clenched. He locked the screen and tossed the phone gently to the side. Lando was trembling now, still clinging to him like he might disappear if he let go.

Oscar slid them both down onto the bed, pulling the duvet around Lando like a cocoon. He ran his hand slowly up and down his back, firm and grounding.

"I love you, Lando," he said, low and sure. "I won't leave you. And I won't let you leave either."

Lando didn't reply. Just buried his face deeper into Oscar's chest and cried.

And Oscar held him like he was the only thing that mattered.

Because right now - he was.