FOURLN4
Oscar Piastri was never supposed to matter.
Quiet. Precise. Sharp. He moved through the world like a straight line-disciplined, steady, predictable. He didn't chase anyone. He didn't flirt. He didn't smile unless necessary. And yet, he kept finding Lando.
A chocolate bar left on a desk. A sticky note in looping handwriting. A soft voice beside Lando's ear.
"This is for you. Eat, please."
Lando hated it. Hated the way Oscar seemed to anticipate his next move. Hated the hand that appeared just to shield him from bumping into corners. Hated the look in Oscar's eyes-slow, deliberate, almost gentle.
One afternoon, under a sunlit tree, Oscar said, "Your star hairclip suits you. You look cute today."
No one had ever watched Lando that closely. No one had seen past the showmanship, past the bravado.
He pulled away. Snapped. Ran. Heart pounding, throat tight. And Oscar? He stayed. Patient. Quiet. Collecting the pieces of Lando's chaos like it was natural.
The strangest thing, when others got too close to Oscar, Lando stiffened. His tone sharpened.
"Why him? He doesn't even look at you properly."
Oscar's voice was soft, patient. "Lando, why do you care?"
"I... I don't. Just forget it," Lando muttered, looking away.
He didn't care.
But Oscar kept choosing him. In small ways, unnoticed ways, the kind that made Lando's chest tighten.
If Oscar was pretending, Lando's heart might not survive.
But if he wasn't, then maybe Lando was already falling.
Hard.
And he wasn't sure he wanted to stop.