Team orders- autistic Oscar Piastri, ADHD Lando Norris

7: home

Oscar's POV:

When I got home I looked at the mess I'd left my flat in last time I'd been here and felt like crying. Just three minutes, that was all I usually needed. I'd take that and then shower and get myself together along with the flat.

But then my mum phoned and my attention was drawn to my phone. Just three minutes, then I'd call her and have a shower and do everything I was supposed to. There was so many notifications I hadn't even had a chance to look at. McLaren had mentioned in the meeting that they wanted me to a do a quick video saying how pleased I was with my win, I didn't really understand until now. I mean I'd done it for them and they'd probably post it soon. But I'd done it without really thinking what it was for.

Online, asides from the celebrations, there was a small group of people claiming I wasn't pleased to win. I definitely was. Not as pleased as I might have been if it hadn't happened the way it had. But I was definitely still happy. Why didn't I look it? In a bunch of the press pictures I looked miserable or at least not like Lando did after Miami. I listen to a video someone has stitched together, the differences between Lando and I's radios after our first wins. Why don't I sound like he does? I know I'm happy but it feels like no one else can tell. But if they saw how I actually looked when I was happy, they'd hate me! Everyone would hate me! They'd laugh at my twitchy fingers just like other's did.

I sat down on the shower mat, head in hands trying to blink away tears. I hated the real me. Everyone hated the me I thought I had to be. Who was I supposed to be? Soon I pulled myself together to get in to the shower, thinking it might make me feel better. Instead I broke down again, slamming hands into my hair and scrubbing my face with every tear that fell. I dragged myself from the shower, thoughts still overwhelming me. Wondering if I was who I was supposed to be? Did I like the real me? Did anyone like the real me?

Mum rang again, a tear fell on my phone screen, accidentally answering the call. A scream erupted from me and I began full on sobbing. Everything had fallen down again, why couldn't I just be fucking normal?

Lando's POV:

"Hey Max." I said, dumping my luggage in the hallway and slipping off my shoes.

"Hey, well done on the 1-2!"

"Thanks."

"Shitty situation huh?" Max understood these things from a driver standpoint which often made him a good friend to talk to in these situations. But unlike many of my driver friends, he wasn't in f1 with me which gave me space away from it.

"They want me to see the sports psychologist again," I blurted out, flopping onto the sofa next to him and covering my eyes with my forearm. I hadn't wanted to say it so early in the conversation but I had and that was that. We'd talked last time I went to see one. Max had dropped out of F3 one year because of his mental health so he had been the only one I'd ever really talked to about it all outside of McLaren.

"Did you tell them you didn't like her?"

"It's not her anymore, it's in person with some other guy."

"But you didn't like it last time?"

"I kind of got told I didn't have a choice."

"I'm not sure they can do that you know?" He was trying to be supportive but it wasn't working.

"Mhm, well I agreed. They told me I need to be more like Oscar."

"Why? You're you?"

"That's what I tried to say! Apparently Oscar is easier to communicate with."

"Well I'm sorry you've had a bad weekend."

"I am happy for Oscar. I know we're not close but that's cause I think he kind of hates me but I know he doesn't, he's just not the easiest person to get close to you know. Well, he's Oscar."

"I know, I'm sure you're happy for him and yea, I know Oscar but it has been a year and a half, maybe you could try giving him another chance."

"But other people don't think so!" I said, avoiding talking about giving Oscar another chance. I'd given him so many chances but he always stayed so far away, he never really let his guard down.

"The team or online? Cause we've talked about people online."

"Both I think." I was mumbling now, a sure sign that I knew it was the anxiety talking even if it felt real.

"Well forget about people online and I don't reckon the team actually think like that."

"It's just, I don't know what to do. If I'm too nice, I'm not ruthless enough to win a championship. But if I stretch the rules even a little bit, I'm being a horrible teammate."

"I'm sure Oscar and the team understand why you were hesitant." Oscar and Max had raced together in the past and before Oscar joined McLaren, Max definitely knew parts of Oscar better than I did. But I was the one who spent more time with him now and that gave me an excuse to not always trust his judgment even when I probably should.

"Maybe." I frowned and tried not to think about it. I couldn't not think about it. "You're being antsy, are you sure that's all that's bothering you?"

"Can we go for a run?"

Max just smiled and nodded. He understood this side of me too. The side with too much energy and very little ability to focus it sometimes. So we'd go out on runs or play padel or golf or whatever and I would feel calmer for it afterwards. I didn't feel like shadow boxing any more coat hangers, so a run felt much more reasonable.

30 minutes later, as we got close to the apartment again, I put in every last ounce of energy I had, practically screaming with frustration as I reached the front door of the building. But I didn't feel any calmer and that worried me.

A/n Hey! Thanks for reading, hope everyone is enjoying this series so far.