Summary:
Lando was laying in bed, staring at the ceiling for what felt like years, waiting for the ceiling to just collapse and fall, or maybe he's the first one to collapse and fall....
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Lando was laying in bed, staring at the ceiling for what felt like years, waiting for the ceiling to just collapse and fall, or maybe he's the first one to collapse and fall.
There was a huge lump in his throat that he just cannot get rid of, it's stuck in his throat and is very much choking him. His mind is screaming at him. He's suffocating.
There's so many thoughts swirling in his mind, mainly the negatives because he's just like that. He could've done better, he should've done better, his teammate who is a rookie got his first win before him for fucks sake. But he wasn't mad at Oscar, far from it actually, deep down he was really proud of him, the endless praises in the interviews for the aussie spoke volumes already. He was happy for Oscar, he was glad they got another double podium.
But what hurt the most was the fact that he should've gotten the pole, he should've gotten the win, the car is completely capable of it, yet here he is making too many mistakes for his own good, he was lucky enough that Georges tyres fell off at the end, if it weren't for that, Lando wouldn't of even held the p3 plate/trophy in his hands.
It hurt, it really did, but the hurt turned into frustration really quick, he wanted to hit himself. Lando knew he was smiling at times in the interviews, because yeah looking back from where they started and where they are now, when Lando isn't happy with a p3 anymore, it's kind of a satisfactory feeling, but at the same time gut wrenching.
He couldn't help but wonder what Oscar was feeling right now, what he was thinking about, did he feel guilty? Because he really shouldn't, it was Landos fault and Landos only. He should be proud, happy. He certainly was from all the smiles that he flashed today at Lando. He smiled at that memory, then sighed and ran a hand through his hair that was still damp from the shower.
Lando inhaled, closed his eyes, turned to his side, laid there for a bit, opened his eyes again. He could not fall asleep for the life of him. He should though, they have the main race tomorrow, the one where Lando will have to work his ass off. He sighed. There was a small notification sound coming from his phone, he raised an eyebrow, considering Lando had his phone on do not disturb. He picked it up.
"Wanna talk about it?" it was Oscar.
Lando rubbed his eyes confused, as if he did so the message would disappear, it didn't.
Oscars messages come through the dnd because Lando remembers putting Oscar in his emergency contacts, for if something extra happened.
"Why are you awake?" Lando typed out.
"Why don't you come over and find out?"
Lando stared, he inhaled, swallowed.
"Lando i know you are not alright, and thats fine, but i really need you to talk to me about it, i can't fucking sleep because of you"
That was probably the longest message that Lando had gotten from Oscar ever. He felt guilty.
"I'm fine, go to sleep, you need it" Lando typed out.
