Team orders- autistic Oscar Piastri, ADHD Lando Norris

8: meltdown

Oscar's POV:

My fists pummelled my head and chest and I screamed and cried. There was no calming down. The whole weekend playing on repeat in my head. And my brain constantly shouting at me about how humiliating this all was. I hoped my neighbours wouldn't be worried or anything. That was the last thing I needed.

Mum was still on the phone in front of me but I had no desire to pick it up. I wished she was here in person, sitting next to me, ruffling my hair how she's always does, telling me it's okay. No matter how old I got, when things fell down she'd do that for me. It was the only time I thought I might be normal because she reacted like I was.

I scrambled to end the call. She shouldn't have to hear me like this. Not when she is on the other side of the world and it's probably way too early for her to even be thinking about any of it. My fingers shook and tensed and I jammed them into my kneecaps to stop their weird actions for freaking me out any further.

Why couldn't I be happy? Maybe everyone was right and I wasn't happy with the win. Not like Lando was. There were missed calls and messages on the Home Screen. I'd been looking at the notifications from friends and family for hours, too scared to open them up. Never ready to try and formulate replies that made sense.

Lando had so many friends in F1 and I wasn't there yet. It would just be Logan congratulating me and a bunch of people I used to race with but haven't spoken to in months. I can't talk to Logan. I can't sit and cry down the phone to him when I've just won and his career in formula one is ending. And even if I considered Lando a friend, I couldn't call him. He'd probably just hate me too. I don't think he likes me that much anyway. Like we are sort of friends, but work friends. Even though Daniel got over me taking his seat, I don't think Lando ever really did.

Lando's POV:

"I'm just getting in the shower and I'll give you some space, let me know when you're ready to talk, just umm text or whatever works." Max stood outside my bedroom door, waiting for me to reply. Waiting for him to catch up with me had taken longer than I thought and as he got to me, I'd half-grunted and ran up to my bedroom, taking the stairs (which I was normally too lazy for) and shutting myself away before he could talk to me. When he realised I wasn't going to reply, he sighed and walked away. How could I even reply to him? After I'd humiliated myself like that.

Even during the covid lockdowns, I managed to keep my cool most of the time. But during lockdowns a run had sorted things out. A run had made feelings and energy flow out of me and brought me back to baseline. This time a run had done nothing and running away had not brought me the comfort it normally did.

I whispered several swear words to myself, wishing I was more like Oscar who felt nothing. Why did I feel things so strongly compared to him?!

"Lando, do you need anything?" Max hadn't showered yet, or I would have heard it. He was waiting to see I was alright before he'd step foot in the shower. He was a good friend, he understood this stuff, I'd done this for him once upon a time. Why was I so intent on not letting him in? If I couldn't let him in my room just yet, I could talk to him through the door.

"Somethings wrong," I cried.

"What Lando? What's wrong?"

"I think I'm broken."

"You're not broken." I just cried harder, "Lando, can you open the door? Can I come in?"

I shuffled away from the door, sitting on my bed and finding a blanket to wrap myself in so I could maintain that feeling of being hidden that had been ever so slightly comforting. "Do you want a hug?" Max offered, I shook my head, crying more and more and more.

"Lando you're not broken, it's just been a difficult weekend."

"But I messed up it! I messed it all up!"

"No you didn't."

"But nothing helps. Getting drunk didn't help, going on a run, running away. It always helps why didn't it help?!" I cried, scrubbing my face when my hands to try and rid myself of the tears.

"Sometimes coping strategies don't always work. And sometimes new things come along that mean you need new coping strategies. Maybe the sports psych will help with that?"

I cried harder remembering what I'd signed myself up for.

This was not the first time Max had seen me like this. It had happened before, but I'd always been able to blame it on anxiety and the way Max was looking at me, I think he knew that this was something else. Maybe he was right, maybe the sports psychologist would help.

A/n Hey! 

Some of you may have noticed some changes to this story. It's now going to be split into more parts to make it easier for everyone to read (and for me to write/ keep track of).

Thanks for your continued support!