Trackside Tensions (Carlando Landoscar Charlos)

Breaking Point

Lando laughed softly at Oscar's playful response, feeling a little bit of the tension easing from his shoulders. "You know that Australian beaches scare the shit out of me, right? There are just too many spiders."

Oscar chuckled, the sound warm and familiar through the phone. "Don't worry, mate. I'll protect you from all the creepy crawlies."

Lando smiled, the corners of his mouth lifting for what felt like the first time in hours. The easy banter with Oscar was a balm, soothing the raw edges of his emotions. But then, Oscar's tone shifted, becoming more sincere, almost gentle. "Lando, seriously... if things get too intense over there, you're welcome to come stay with me. Anytime. No pressure, just a place to clear your head."

Lando paused, the genuine offer catching him off guard. The warmth in Oscar's voice, the unwavering support—it all hit Lando in a way that nearly unraveled him. He hadn't realized just how badly he needed to hear something like that until it was offered. "You're the best, Oz," he murmured, genuinely touched. The idea of escaping to Australia, even just for a little while, felt like a glimmer of hope in the midst of the storm swirling inside him.

"Just keep it in mind," Oscar replied, his voice lighter now as if he sensed Lando's need for some levity. "And remember, I've got plenty of room. Plus, I promise there are way fewer spiders in my place than on the beach."

Lando chuckled again, feeling a small but real sense of relief. "I'll hold you to that."

They ended the call, and Lando slipped his phone back into his pocket, but as soon as the connection was severed, the weight of the situation returned with a vengeance. The peacefulness of the night seemed fleeting now, like a delicate veil that had been lifted to reveal the harsh reality underneath. He reluctantly made his way back towards the villa, his footsteps heavy with the burden of his thoughts.

When he walked inside, the place was quiet, with only the soft hum of the night air filtering through the open windows. The scent of the ocean lingered in the air, a salty reminder of the villa's proximity to the Mediterranean. He moved cautiously, not wanting to wake anyone. As he passed the living room, he noticed the lights had been dimmed, and both Carlos and Charles were already asleep in their respective rooms.

Lando sighed, exhaustion pulling at him like a physical force. It felt like the tension of the day had finally caught up, and all he wanted was to close his eyes and escape it all, even if just for a few hours. He made his way to his room, the soft glow of moonlight streaming through the window casting pale shadows on the floor. He slipped into bed, pulling the covers over him, but sleep didn't come easy. His mind kept drifting back to Carlos and Charles, to the way Carlos had looked at him—like he was an afterthought.

He tossed and turned, his thoughts a chaotic mess, replaying the events of the day over and over. Each memory felt like a needle, pricking at his consciousness, refusing to let him rest. Eventually, fatigue won out, and he fell into a restless sleep, his dreams haunted by the echoes of the insecurities that plagued him.

The next morning, Lando woke later than usual, the sun already high in the sky. The bright light filtered through the curtains, casting warm beams across the room. He groaned, his body heavy with the remnants of sleep, and dragged himself out of bed, rubbing his eyes as he made his way downstairs to the kitchen.

The villa was eerily quiet. Too quiet.

Lando frowned, expecting to find Carlos and Charles lounging around or having breakfast together like they usually did. But the kitchen was empty. The living room was empty. He wandered through the villa, checking the rooms, but there was no sign of them. It was as if they had vanished, leaving behind only the lingering traces of their presence.

Confused, Lando pulled out his phone, expecting to find a message or a missed call—some kind of explanation. But there was nothing. No texts, no voicemails, no heads-up. A pit of anxiety formed in his stomach as he hesitated, then dialed Carlos's number, his heart pounding in his chest as the phone rang.

It rang once, twice, three times before Carlos declined the call. Lando's heart sank, his anxiety spiking as a text message came through a moment later.

Carlos: Charles and I are visiting the Museo Nacional del Prado. We didn't want to wake you because we figured you wouldn't be interested anyway.

Lando stared at the message, disbelief and hurt washing over him in waves. They'd just left without him—no invitation, no consideration. Just the assumption that he wouldn't want to join them. He felt the sting of rejection sharper than ever before.

The Museo Nacional del Prado was one of the most renowned art museums in Spain, a place steeped in history and culture. And they hadn't even bothered to ask if he might want to see it with them.

It wasn't about the museum itself—it was the principle, the thoughtlessness of it all.

A bitter taste filled Lando's mouth as he reread the message. Carlos and Charles were off enjoying their day together, and Lando was left alone, once again on the outskirts of whatever was happening between them. He felt small, insignificant, as if he were nothing more than an afterthought. His mind began to race with self-doubt, comparing himself to Charles, who seemed to fit so seamlessly into Carlos's world. What did Charles have that he didn't? Why was he always the one left behind?

Lando's thoughts spiraled as the hurt turned to something deeper, something more resolute. Maybe Oscar was right. Maybe it was time to step away, to give Carlos and Charles the space they seemed to need, even if it meant removing himself from the equation entirely.

He couldn't stand to be the third wheel any longer. He didn't belong here—he never really did. The realization hit him hard, but with it came a certain clarity. He needed to leave. It was the only way to preserve whatever was left of his dignity.

Without hesitating, he called Oscar again, his hands trembling slightly as he waited for the call to connect.

"Oz," Lando said, his voice tight as soon as Oscar answered, "I think I need to leave. I don't feel welcome here anymore. Carlos and Charles are off doing their own thing, and I'm just... I'm just done."

Oscar was silent for a moment, absorbing Lando's words. When he spoke, his voice was calm but firm. "Alright, Lando. If that's what you feel you need to do, then I'm with you. I'll book you a flight back here, and we'll sort everything out from there. You don't have to go through this alone."

Lando's heart swelled with gratitude at Oscar's immediate offer to help, but there was also a sadness that clung to him, a heavy weight pressing down on his chest. He had wanted this trip to be something different—a chance to reconnect with Carlos, to have some fun, to escape the pressures of life. Instead, it had turned into something he no longer wanted to be a part of.

"You're the best, Oz. Really, thank you," Lando said, his voice wavering with emotion. It felt like a lifeline, knowing that Oscar was there for him, ready to catch him if he fell.

"Don't worry, Crawlie," Oscar replied with a soft chuckle, using the silly nickname he had for Lando. "I'm gonna be there for you, no matter what."

The words were simple, but they meant everything to Lando. For the first time in days, he felt a small measure of peace, knowing he had someone in his corner who truly cared.

As he ended the call, Lando looked around the villa one last time. It had never felt more empty. The decision was made. He was leaving, and maybe, just maybe, it was for the best