wlovebestie
Lando knows what he should do.
He should stop checking his phone at three in the morning, waiting for Oscar to text. He should stop trying to figure out where Oscar's been or who he's been with. He should definitely stop analyzing every touch like it means something it probably doesn't. The hand on his knee, the way Oscar leans in close, those casual "I love you"s that Lando replays until they fall apart into meaninglessness.
Most of all, he should stop this thing where he's convinced that almost is enough.
But Oscar makes it difficult. Not on purpose. That's almost worse, actually. Instead, Oscar just exists the way he does quiet, comfortable and careless with how much of himself he gives away, and Lando just keeps showing up, keeps believing things he knows aren't true.
And the thing is, Oscar never promised him anything. Not once. Lando built all of this himself, constructed the entire narrative from fragments and proximity and Oscar's ability to make him feel like he was the only person that mattered in any given moment.
So when Oscar texts him at three in the morning, Lando answers.
When Oscar shows up at his door with that tired look and asks if he can stay, Lando lets him in.
When Oscar says those things, quiet, half-asleep, drunk enough to be honest, Lando listens, and he believes them for the few hours before reality sets in.
Because maybe Oscar's giving him pretty big lies, and maybe Lando knows they're lies, but they're the only thing he's got.
And that's enough, somehow. It has to be enough.