Anytime

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Lando's phone buzzed from its place on his nightstand, he'd been zoned out for several minutes, maybe hours, and the sound made him jump. He glanced down nervously, relieved when he saw Oscar's name.

"Hey," he said, picking up.

"Hey, sorry about hanging up."

"It's alright, I get it, things go okay with Logan?"

"Yeah," Lando could sense the smile on the other end of the phone, "Yeah they went okay."

Lando smiled, if a little dejected, "It's okay if it went well, I'm happy for you guys, really."

"Sorry," Oscar said quietly on the other line " Heard anything yet?"

Lando glanced down at his phone screen again, "No, nothing."

"I'm sure he'll say something when he sees it, maybe he's just sleeping? He's in Spain right? It's still early," Oscar assured him.

"Yeah I guess," Lando sighed.

"Do you want me to come over, we could play video games, or get drunk?" he suggested.

"Yeah cause that worked out so well the last time."

"Yeah, maybe not that. Really though, I feel bad leaving you alone."

"I live alone Oscar, I'm used to it."

"You know this is different."

Lando sighed, "Yeah. Yeah I know. Really though I'll be okay. I'm probably just gonna order food and watch a movie, y'know... try to distract myself."

"Yeah, that'll be good. You can call or text me whenever you know? Say the word and I'm there," Oscar said earnestly.

"I know. Thanks, Oscar. Is Logan there?"

" Uh... yeah, in th either room why?"

"Give him the phone."

"Lando I don't thi-"

"Oscar."

"Okay."

There was a rustling on the other line.

"Hey Lando how you doing?"

"Nah uh, no time for pleasantries, listen, I've known Oscar for a lot shorter a time than you have, but if you hurt him I hurt you a hell of a lot worse, got it?"

"Uhhh, yup."

"Good, give Oscar back," rustling again, "See you later, mate."

"later, good luck."

Lando hung up the phone with a heavy sigh, the weight of uncertainty settling in his chest like a leaden anchor. He glanced around his apartment, the familiar surroundings offering little comfort in the face of his turmoil. With a resigned shrug, he pushed himself off the bed and made his way to the living room. The minutes dragged on as he paced back and forth, his thoughts racing in circles, each turn leading him deeper into the maze of his own mind.

Eventually, he collapsed onto the couch, exhaustion weighing him down like a suffocating blanket. He reached for the remote and flicked on the TV, the screen coming to life with a burst of sound. His headache had long been forgotten, replaced by the anxiety and panic that seemed to settle over him like a blanket.

Just as he was ready to let the mental exhaustion take over, he felt his stomach growl and was suddenly overcome by how hungry he was. He grabbed his phone, trying to ignore the lack of new relevant messages, and ordered the most recent thing in his delivery history. He threw his phone down on the floor beside him, trying to ignore its existence and forget the last few hours. He wanted to go back to last night and stop himself from sending the text, or from allowing himself to drink in the first place.