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ovadzs · 2 days ago

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“the alchemy”

Summary: You are a screenwriter, coming to Monaco to work on a new show, and you decide to visit an old friend, Oscar Piastri. You aren’t then expecting to end up in a strange fake dating situation with Lando Norris, that ends… well?

Word count: 9k+

Other: female character, (referenced as girlfriend, etc.) you pronouns used. few italian words/sentences.

The beginning of August heat is bearable, but the sun beats aggressively on your back, and you can almost feel your skin burning. Monaco is nice though, and looks even more expensive in real life than in the photos. You’re overwhelmed, and somewhat uncomfortable, and butterflies flap viciously in your stomach, reminding you why you’re staring at the map on your phone. A squiggly blue line, guiding you to a cafe, where you know Oscar will be sat, waiting. You’d told him you’d be late, and he was unsurprised. He hadn’t expected you to become punctual, even if he hadn’t seen you for four years. Weird. You’d been friends since, well, forever, and now four years have passed. It felt like nothing, so why are you so nervous?

Your phone keeps turning and twisting, and you trail down alleys and roads until you end up in a strange loop. Great, you’re lost. You only know your way to your (friend’s) flat from the airport, and vice versa, and you’re in neither of those places. Defeated, you look around desperately at signs, willing your rusty French to help you here, to no avail. Well, the obvious solution is to ring Oscar, but you really don’t want to. Exasperated, you pause, trying to figure out what is messing with your head right now. That's when you feel a tentative tap on your shoulder.

“You seem… stuck?” comes a familiar voice, but you can’t place it. That changes though, as soon as you turn around. Curly hair catches your eyes, and you raise your eyebrows in surprise. Lando Norris.

“Lost, but yeah. Close enough.”

He laughs, his eyes crinkling.

“Lucky for you, I live here. Where are you headed? I’ll show you the way.” he offers carefully, obviously scanning you. You narrow your eyes at him, returning the scrutiny.

You nod, and gesture to your phone, avoiding butchering the French name on your screen. He grins.

“Yeah, I know it. One of my friends goes there all the time. I’m Lando, by the way. Lando Norris.” he says gently, tilting his head.

“I know.” comes your casual reply, before you hurriedly give him your name. “I watch most of the races, but I’m not really a serious fan.” you say as a justification, trying to avoid sounding awkward as you lie through your teeth. You watch every single one, eyes clinging to the orange on the screen. Not him, though.

“Well, you’re extremely late for the Grand Prix. Bad time to visit, surely. It’s too hot and nothing exciting is going on.” he replies, his eyes twinkling.

“Oh, I’m kind of here for work? I’m a screenwriter, and the series I'm working on is set here. I work best from experience, so I figured it was worth the effort, you know?” you say casually, smiling slightly at the obvious surprise on his face.

“Mate, that’s kinda awesome??” he says, grinning enthusiastically.

“Mate, thanks!” you reply, mocking his voice.

“I could run off right now and leave you stranded, mate.” he says bitterly, rolling his eyes at you.

You scrunch up your face and shake your head.

“Yeah, alright. Sorry mate. Please continue showing me the way.” you reply earnestly, hoping your gratitude isn’t completely masked by your sarcasm.

You’re walking fairly close to him, not nearly close enough to be touching but close enough that it's clear you’re relaxed. He’s calm, and magnetic, and you almost wonder if you should tell him who it is you’re meeting in this cafe, but you’re enjoying the casual conversation.

He stops abruptly, gesturing towards a quaint door.

“Ladies first!” he says cheerfully, holding the door open.

Your heart jumps as you walk through and you see the back of his head. All this time, and you recognise it instantly. Lando seems to do the same, as you both call Oscar’s name at the same time.

He turns quickly, surprised.

“Lando? You two know each other?” he says incredulously, looking at you both as you stand shoulder-to-shoulder.

“You’re here to see Oscar? You could’ve mentioned that.” he mutters, his tone suddenly quite serious.

“It didn’t come up, sorry. Hey, you’re more than welcome to join us. I’d like to keep talking.” you say sincerely, confused by his cold tone.

Oscar nods in agreement, prematurely pulling up an extra chair to a small table in front of you. You sit down simultaneously, indicating for Lando to sit down too, but he just shakes his head.

“No, it’s alright. I wouldn’t want to crash your date. Have fun, guys. Oscar, I’ll see you around mate.”

You stare at him for a moment, just blinking.

“Um, bye then. It was nice to meet you. Thanks so much for the help.” you say blandly, baffled by his sudden change in behaviour. Something is confusing you, but you can't figure out what.

He leaves quickly, and you turn back towards Oscar, meeting his smile.

“Well, that was awkward.” you say, raising an eyebrow.

Oscar nods knowingly.

“He’s like that sometimes. Guess he was just surprised to see me. Me, and you, I suppose.” he replies, before quickly changing the subject.

That's when it hits you. Date.

“Wait, Oscar. Did you and Lily…” you begin, trailing off.

“Yeah, pretty recently. I made a joke yesterday about ‘putting myself back out there’, so he must’ve assumed. Sorry about that.” he said sullenly.

You punch him affectionately on the arm.

“Why didn’t you tell me, you muppet?” you joke, and his breath hitches.

“It's weird hearing you say that. You used to say it so often, and Lando says it too. Felt like it was following me.” he says, smiling softly.

You pause.

“Well, it’s my catchphrase, so he can sod off.” you say simply, and he chuckles in response.

“He already did.” he replies, gesturing to the empty chair.

You let out a proper laugh, admiring his flushed cheeks through your scrunched eyes.

And that's when you feel it, that familiar burning in your stomach, the heat on your face.

Something you felt endlessly for so many years, something that only went away when you avoided him shamelessly. You hadn’t felt it for years. Ten minutes, and it was already back.

Great.

***

It's so easy, spending time with Oscar. Nostalgic, too. Growing up together sets you up as friends for life, and even the time apart and the distance apparently has no effect on your bond. Conversation flows effortlessly, and your arm intertwines with his just as it did when you were merely ten years old. Unfortunately, as the sky darkens, you realise you’d better try to figure out where home is. So you say your goodbyes, and set off.

After regretfully trekking around the main streets, you suddenly realise where you are and you’re flooded with relief. Your flat isn’t far from here now, but you’re hungry, and you’re in Monaco (like, what!!!) so why not?

You walk into a small restaurant and sit down at the bar, smiling at the bartender. You order politely, admiring the extortionate amount of earrings in her ears.

“Are you following me?”

You turn to your right, surprised

“Huh. Well, you are my guide, no?” you quip, searching his eyes for the softness from the morning when you first met. Luckily, it's back.

“Sorry for rushing out earlier. I wasn’t expecting-” Lando says quickly, but you shake your head.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. For the record, Oscar and I have been friends since we were about seven. I didn’t even know he’d broken up with Lily, which is why you assuming it was a date confused me so much. We’re just good friends, you know?”

“Well, that's a relief.”

“How so?” you ask, looking up at him.

He shrugs and takes a drink from his glass, avoiding eye contact.

“So, is he like, your only friend here?” he asks suddenly.

“Mmmm, pretty much. I'm living in my only other friend's flat while she's away.”

You pause painfully on the word friend, a flood of memories hitting you suddenly. Sometimes you wonder if it had been the wrong decision to stay friends after the break-up, but you wouldn’t have anywhere to stay now without her.

He clearly notices, but doesnt ask.

“Well, if we all hang out together, you’ll have two friends. That’s double, in one day. Good going so far, I’d say.” he says simply, sliding his phone over to you.

You gratefully type in your number and slide it back, smiling.

“Well, as long as you know I’m solely friends with you for directions, that sounds perfect.”

He raises his glass to you after that, and you smile.

***

Lando wasn’t lying when he said you’d hang out together. About a week or so had passed, and you’d spent each day together, alongside Oscar, and today was no exception.

“You were too scared to say a cafe name last week, and now you sound fluent.” mutters Lando, perching by your shoulder as you try to talk to someone on the phone, pleasantly surprised by the fluidity of your French.

“You should’ve seen her in school. Practically her first language.” Oscar chimes in, and you roll your eyes.

“Italian is my first language, pirla.” you reply quickly, lowering your phone and stuffing it into your pocket.

Lando looks up, surprised.

“Huh. Didn’t expect that.”

You nod. “Yep, but I moved to the UK when I was really young. No accent now. Like the Aussie over here.” you explain, gesturing to a sheepish Oscar.

“You’re living back in Milan now though, right?” Oscar asks, even though he obviously knows the answer. You don’t even bother to reply to the strange question, just nodding, staring at the view beneath you.

“It’s nice up here, isn’t it. And it's quiet. No cameras, nothing.” whispers Lando, standing closer to the hill edge, next to you.

“Not so quiet when you’re here.” you complain, not turning to look at him. You see him scoff in your peripheral vision, and a small smile tugs at your lips.

Time passes, but you aren’t aware of it. There’s you, and the sun, and Monaco’s skyline.

And an irritatingly blank word document on your closed laptop in your apartment.

You groan slightly, knowing you need to start brainstorming.

“I need to go work. See you soon, yeah?” you say, shattering the peaceful silence.

They turn to you in unison, but Oscar nods while Lando just smiles.

“Yeah, okay. Have… fun? I don’t know if writing is fun, I don’t really do it. But whatever. I’ll text you.” comes Lando’s quick response, followed by a simple ‘bye’ from Oscar.

***

The following hours are a blur of ink stains and mind maps and ripped pages and it's unbelievably chaotic and unbelievably messy. You cook and you eat, but you can’t remember what meal it was, and you have no idea what time it is. Although you actually have no real idea of what's going on, you love it. This is the rush you live for, the constant scribbling as ideas bigger than you unfold in your unsuspecting notebook.

You allow yourself to think of Oscar for a moment, thinking of how this must be how he feels as those lights go out. Strange, how similar yet different you are. You enjoy speed, and he enjoys reading, but you could never donate your life to it, and likewise he could never do the same. Life without pens and paper would not really be life to you, but life without racing would be unbearable to him. You wondered if maybe that's why you work so well together. Your qualities worth celebrating were shared, but your passions were different. It aches a bit, to think like that. Imagining a partnership in a way that was so alien to what you two have now. Weaving him into all your episodes, a recurring background character. Understanding when you need silence, or sound. Contact, or space.

You had that understanding already, and you felt greedy for wanting anymore. You’d come to terms with the inevitability of ever being more than childhood friends a long long time ago, and you weren't about to reopen the wound. So you stop allowing yourself to think of anything other than the page in front of you, and you're confused when a brief image of curly hair and light eyes flashes in your exhausted head when you start scribbling out character profiles.

And like you’ve summoned him, your phone rings and ‘landoo’ flashes on your screen.

“Hey, can you open the door? I’m like, right outside. Sorry it’s urgent.” comes his somewhat panicked voice on speaker, and you act immediately, running to the front door.

He stands there, breathing quickly, rubbing his forehead. You hurry him inside and shut the door, before turning around expectantly.

“Okay, talk. And breathe. Breathe first and then talk. Did you RUN here? What’s going on, Lando?” you ask quickly, firing a stream of questions at him.

He cracks a weak smile, and it puts you even more on edge.

“It’s fine, you can relax.” he begins, sounding reassuring.

You fold your arms and narrow your gaze.

“It’s not me, it’s Oscar. Someone leaked a photo of Lily with her new partner, so he either lets her take the cheating allegations, announces they broke up, or ignores it and tries to avoid the media for as long as possible.” he explains, and you inhale deeply.

“Right, so he just does the third option, surely? The next grand prix is so far away, surely it would be fine.” you reply simply, confused by the panic.

“Well, ideally, yeah. But he has an interview he most certainly can’t ignore the day after tomorrow. So that's not an option. But he really doesn't want to add fuel to the fire and announce it, but he also doesn't want to watch people drag her name through the mud.” he continues, ignoring your blank expression.

“Lando, I’m too tired for this. Why are you here?” you ask, sighing.

“Because he's stressed. By MY standards. I haven’t ever seen him this worked up. He’s seriously worried about this. And while he was pacing, I had an idea. He said something like ‘I’d love for some other driver to do something insane right now’ and it made me think of you.” he says, suddenly seriously.

You blink, clearly not following.

“Why would you think of me?”

He pauses, his nerves and excitement plastered equally on his face. In one large step, he closes the gap between you, and you can feel his breath on your neck.

“I can be the driver, and you can be the insane thing.” he says, stumbling over the few words, and you can’t help but burst out laughing.

But he is deadly serious.

“Sorry, that was terrible phrasing. But no, I mean it. Tomorrow, we convince everyone we’re together. We tell everyone who cares to listen that we’re dating and there's a new wag set to join the paddock. Huge deal, very public. No offense to Oscar, but I think the media will be much more blinded by, well, us, than by him and Lily having possibly broken up. I mean, my dating life is so heavily followed and scrutinised-there's no chance of it being ignored.”

You don't hesitate. “Did you tell Oscar about this idea?”

He's taken aback by your response.

“Um, yeah. He told me not to ask.” he says sullenly, surprised by the stormy expression on your face.

“Why.”

“Because it wasn’t fair, and you’d say no. Because you can’t.” he replies honestly, and your head droops into your hands.

He’s right, you can’t.

But you might.

“So why did you bother coming? He’s right.” you snap back, angrily, and Lando steps away from you.

“Because I figured you’d say yes anyway. To help him. I’ve been watching you two interact, and it's so clear how deep your friendship goes. And I think he’d do it for you.” he whispers.

“No, I can’t. I just, I just can’t. I can’t deal with it, the media and the cameras and the judgement. That's why I left so long ago, and why I tried to disappear from his life where I could be seen.” you say quickly, avoiding eye contact.

“But it's not him, it's me.”

“That's even worse!!”

He looks stung. “Why is that worse?”

You decide to just let it come out.

“I was in love with him, Lando. Hopelessly so. And for a while, the comments and photos and theories were worth it. And then they quickly weren't. I was drowning in it. People accusing me of trying to split him and Lily up. And that was so long ago, when he had way less of a fanbase. Imagining what it would be like now, to be with you, is terrifying. And frankly, it wouldn’t be worth it. It wouldn’t even be real.”

The silence is heavy and cold and you want to run but there's absolutely nowhere to go. So you brave it and stare straight at him, ignoring the heavy look of surprise on his face.

“Ah, well. For the record, it wouldn’t be for me. It would be for him. And maybe you don’t love him anymore, but you can’t let that be what stops you from doing this, come on. It's different now. And you know, I bet it would be fun. Just a little bit.” he jokes, but you wince slightly.

“Oh shit. You’re not over it.”

You don’t reply.

Until you do.

“I was. I really was. The distance helped, sure. It’s just, readjusting. He’s so here. And without seeing Lily on his arm- I don’t know. It’s so different.” you admit, exasperated.

“You’re going to do it, aren’t you?” he says, inching closer again.

“Can you shut up? I’m trying to think.” you say, humming to yourself.

You imagine Oscar, pacing. You remember how your heart ached, watching everyone question if you loved him, like it wasn't obvious. Lily, asking you to be honest, and then asking you to back off. Politely, of course. All the opportunities you missed, because you were scared. Of what? You’re still not sure. Everything you owe him. All the help he gave you.

And you know, whatever comes out of this, will be inevitably better than the guilt that will consume you if you do nothing at all. So you nod, slowly. Full of uncertainty.

“Huh, so you’re my fake girlfriend now then, yeah?” Lando says quietly, trying to not let the weight of what was about to come make his tone depressing.

“Don’t call me that. But, yeah. You’re telling Oscar though.” you say, grinning back at him.

He looks absolutely outraged.

“No? Like, no. I can’t, do you know how mad he’ll be? He’ll think I like, threatened you or something. Mate-” he starts, babbling angrily, but you chuckle.

“Oscar won’t be mad. He’s only mad at slow drivers.”

“Yeah, well he’s also calm, and doesn’t pace around and mutter weird things to himself because he's not stressed, and yet? Anyway, you can tell him yourself. Now. I can see him in the window.” he says slowly, waving at the window in the front door, smiling at an exasperated Oscar.

“Fuck off.” you say, sighing. When you told Lando you were too tired for this, you meant it. You did not want to see Oscar right now, especially with Lando present. Still, you reluctantly opened the door, letting him in.

“You don’t need to do it.” he says quickly, glaring at Lando.

“I know.”

“I told him not to ask.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“You said no, right?”

“I said yes.” you say firmly, watching him falter.

And the expression that crosses his face is not one you could have predicted. It’s hurt. Hurt, into genuine offense. And the only explanation you can think of for this is that he's remembering that time he found you hiding under your desk, feeling like you’d lost all ability to function around him, and around Lily, and around anyone.

You couldn’t even open your phone. And deep down, you both knew why. It wasn’t the comments. It was because they were right. And you were scared of getting between them like the media predicted. You were scared of confessing, and losing him. You were scared, because you didn’t know what you wanted to do. Who you wanted to be.

You were scared. And once he got you off the floor and on your feet, you let that fear carry you away. But now you’re back, and you’re not scared.

But he doesn't know that. How could he?

“Why? After- I just- what? Why? Is it real, is that why?” he starts, but you turn to Lando.

“Lando, can you go? Please.” you say seriously, and he nods, before ducking out of the door.

You sit down, and Oscar follows, confusion clouding his dark eyes.

You breathe in deeply. “Obviously, it isn’t real. But I’m not the same person I was then, and Lando isn’t you. It won’t be the same. And I know who I am now, and they can’t rattle me like they did before. Also, there’s no one like Lily that I can be compared to, or whatever. And it won’t be for long, probably. Until no one even mentions her. Also, I’m not here forever, so once I go back to Milan, I can disappear-”

“Again.” finishes Oscar.

“But you can see what I’m saying, right? This is planned. It’s going to look like we’re together. This isn't anything like what happened. I think it’s going to be fine. What about you, are you okay?” you ask, searching his face for an answer.

He smiles at you carefully, but his shoulders are slumped.

“I’m fine. This is worse than the breakup, honestly. I mean, I didn't even know she was seeing other people. Not that it matters, but still. To find out like that sucked. It’s just, beside you, she’s one of my longest friends. I’m more used to life with her than without, so this is so weird for me. I see something I would’ve sent her, and I just can’t. It’s pathetic, but I can’t watch tennis anymore.” he mumbles, his voice breaking slightly.

“Look, I’m sorry there isn't more I can do, but this shouldnt be warped by social media. Let me try, okay? A diversion is better than nothing. At least you’ll have time to figure out how you feel, or what to say. If you have to say anything at all.” you finish, beaming at him. And the look of tranquillity on his face is worth the nerves you feel in your throat.

He pulls you in for a hug, wrapping his large arms around you. You instinctively rest your head on his shoulder, and you both stay there like that for a moment.

“Thank you. You’re making it seem like it was an easy decision, but I’m sure it wasn’t. Seriously, thank you.” he says sincerely, whispering straight into your ear.

You smile slightly. “You’d be surprised, it actually was quite easy. I mean, I did say no at first. But, Lando made a joke, saying it might be fun. And I did realise that maybe he's right. Like a big inside joke. And he also said you would’ve done it for me. That was really all I needed to hear.”

He sighs. “It's not really the same though, is it? I mean, I would. Of course I would. But it would be much less of a sacrifice.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s going to be okay, really. And even if it doesn't work, at least I tried. I had to try.” you explain gently, barely breathing. You don’t want to move your head.

He doesn’t really respond, he just sort of hums into your hair, and neither of you move. And you both know you should, but you’re both stressed, and tired, and it’s late. So you just melt into each other, and it feels like an uncomfortable parallel of your teenage years.

And your heart burns and you wonder if his does too.

***

The next day comes uncomfortably fast, and you barely slept. But now it's morning, and you’re going for breakfast. So you get ready, letting the comforting familiarity of doing your makeup be your focus, trying to ignore why you're putting it on. Trying to ignore the fact you’ll soon be labelled as Lando’s new girlfriend. Ironically, you realise that's actually how you’re going to be known. Everything you stand for, everything you’ve accomplished, just to become someone’s girlfriend. You laugh when you think about it, and you manage to relax a bit. It’s not really you. They don’t actually care about you, you’re just his accessory to them. Maybe the fans will bother to learn your name, before the hate and questions begin. Well, some of them will. Some of them will dig into you. Dig up the photos of you and Oscar from school, dig up all your episodes and films. An impressive portfolio, hidden under the simple fact that you were nothing more than the girl on his arm. In some ways though, it made the whole thing easier. They couldn’t pick you apart, like they had before. You weren't a teenager, being torn between decisions you shouldn't have had to make. Degrees and offers and ‘that isn’t a real job’ weren't hanging over your head anymore. You were calculated and dedicated and you actually could handle this. Your initial stress from yesterday seemed misplaced. You really should’ve been worried about having to act like you were in a relationship.

Obviously, you got along well with Lando, and you didn’t not like him. But you definitely didn't like him. And sure, he was decent-looking, and he seemed nice, but you also didn't know him that well. So to pretend to be infatuated, to remember to offer him your hand or plant a kiss on his cheek if you saw a camera would be hard. Possibly impossible.

Also, you hadn’t laid out any ground rules or had any sort of indication what to expect. Granted, it was last minute. Oh well, you could figure it out today.

That's when his knock came, and you called him in. You’d unlocked the door in the morning, because you knew your timekeeping was a problem, so he could just come in and wait with you, instead of leaving him in the car outside. It would be strange, after avoiding fans all week, to just dive in head first.

“Morning, mate. You okay?” he calls from the hallway, the sound growing louder.

“Yep, all good. I’m in here.” you reply, pushing the bathroom door open with your foot.

“Well, you look nice.” he says awkwardly, watching you through the mirror.

You smile at him gratefully, “Don’t look too bad yourself, Norris. So, where are we going?”

He tells you the name of the restaurant, and you recognise it. Popular.

Clever.

“Alright, let’s go then. I’m ready.” you say simply, bouncing over to the wardrobe to put your shoes on.

“Perfect.”

***

The whole day went without a hitch. You were both excellent, if you do say so yourself. Photos and videos flooded the internet, an explosion of edits and gossip accounts going haywire. People were already posting about you, waiting for more content. They already loved you. Obviously, some were skeptical. New show is coming out, therefore it's PR. Or the fans that wanted Lando themselves- they weren’t pleased with you. But no one hated you. You weren’t being labelled anything. No one had called you uglier than anyone else. If anything, there had only really been compliments.

Oscar calls you that night, essentially congratulating you on a brilliant debut. Telling you it's taken a real weight off his shoulders for tomorrow. You tell him it's nothing, and you mean it. It was nothing. It had been so simple. So much simpler than you had expected.

***

About a week passed. You’d been practically inseparable, you and Lando. Subtle posts on each other's stories. An arm somewhere, or a shoe. Enough to confirm what everyone had been confirming for you. You realised though, that soon you could give it up. It could be labelled a summer break mistake, and you’d both move on. Drop off the face of the media just how you’d dropped in.

Oscar did mention that. After his interview had gone, and no one mentioned Lily. It was an unspoken thing now, their breakup. He was asking what your plan was, what to do. He joked that it actually seemed really easy, pretending like that. And you’d confirmed that actually, it was.

But once he’d changed the topic that really sank in. Why had it been that easy?

It's because you forgot it was an act, about halfway through. Your hand in his, and you didn't remember when it got there. About four days, and it was already natural. That was really scary. You didn't know why, but later that night it was keeping you up, running through your mind. So you just lay there, on your phone, hopefully waiting for your heavy eyelids to close.

It didn't help that a phone call came.

“Lando?” you ask groggily.

“Hey. Wasn’t really expecting you to pick up, to be honest.” he says, sounding way too awake for it to be so late.

“What is it?” you ask, yawning.

“Have you seen what everyones been saying? About us, I mean.” he asks.

“Um, nothing in particular, why? Did something happen?”

He sighs through the phone. “No, nothing like that. It’s just been surprisingly positive. Like, maybe I’m making this up, but I feel like I’ve been receiving less hate for the last week. Like everyones focused on you, and they love you, so they like me?”

You laugh quietly. “Pfft, of course they love me. What's your point?”

“I heard you talking to Oscar earlier, when he asked what you were planning to do. You didn't answer, but I could tell you were thinking. And I know we did what we intended to do, and we could just like, go radio silent now or whatever, but-” he pauses dramatically.

“Lando, finish your sentence.” you whisper, irritated.

“Would you be willing to keep going? Maybe just until the first race, or whatever. Just a bit longer.” he asks quickly, rushing to get it out.

You inhale deeply, thinking it over.

“Lando, that isn’t just a bit longer. That's weeks. I still don't understand why you’re asking.” you say, absentmindedly.

“Um, don’t make fun of me for this. But I sort of feel better about myself when I’m with you? Like, all the fans taking photos and stuff. When I was alone, or with other people, I hated it. I just knew I had to stay off social media, but I hated what they said. How they viewed me. The threats, and the anger. I mean, I didn't understand it. That hasn't subsided for so long, until now. Now, I want them to see us. See me, I don’t know. It's like a newfound confidence. I lost it a long time ago, and I don't want to lose it again. And you help me keep hold of it.” he admits honestly, and you can hear the sincerity in his voice.

And it's crazy, that you’ve truly known him for two weeks, and you're already foolishly believing the words spewing from his mouth. Like you really are special to him, and it’s not just a stunt. A plea for his own personal gain. That you truly are bettering his life, helping him. And you think of how hard it will be to explain to Oscar, and how much harder it will be to end it.

But that same guilt you felt when you thought of not agreeing in the first place floods you again. And frankly, the influx of fans has given you an undeniable ego boost. A feeling of being good enough.

And you find yourself agreeing, before you’d actually come to a conclusion.

“Sure, why not?”

And as you say it, you realise you actually mean it for once. Why not?

He laughs, clearly relieved.

“You’re brilliant, thank you so much! Genuinely, this means so much to me. It's just nice to be talked about positively, it's been years. And it can't be that bad for you, surely? Becoming the new favourite wag on the grid?” he says jokingly.

“Yeah, you’re right. The worst part is definitely the guy I'm supposedly dating. He's proper annoying.” you reply, hanging up after.

***

The weeks fly past, the same thing after another. Luckily, it was pretty cemented that you were together now, so you and Lando could go on less public dates, spend less time together.

You didn't though. Appearances together, every day, without fail. Full accounts dedicated to spotting you two together now, preaching of your inevitable long future together. Everyone was convinced you were hopelessly devoted to each other, a true representation of that well-known honeymoon phase. In actuality, you were aware of every camera, trying to remain natural. Trying not to worry that something would change and you'd be harassed. Trying to keep your hand in his constantly, to make it seem like it belonged there. It often felt like it did, until you remembered he was acting. And that never failed to make you put your guard right back up, but keep flashing smiles and making sure you had a permanent flush in your cheeks. And you knew you could hang out less, you both knew, yet neither of you implemented it or ever complained.

And soon the Dutch grand prix came around, and this was it, the hardest moment so far. The garage, the livestreams, the commentators. Thankfully, a constant reminder that it's a show, and you're a character with a simple script. Be in love with Lando Norris. And you knew all about scripts, and characters, and how to tell them to act. So realistically, you had this. And you knew you had it.

Oscar had not been as sure as you. He was wary of it, and it was fair enough. Last time you’d appeared in a paddock was F2, and then you disappeared. So, yeah, he wasn’t overjoyed about how casual you were taking this. Because deep down, he felt that Lando would never be adequate enough to handle it if it went wrong. He wouldn't defend you fiercely enough, or help you, or even know something was truly wrong. But you’d assured him to stop worrying, and focus on the racing. You knew what you were doing. You were still doing it for the same reason you’d even started- for a friend.

Although, as you’d grown closer with Lando, it felt as though Oscar was slipping away. Slightly judgemental looks, coldness between you. Like you were offending him. Maybe you were, but you weren’t sure what to do. So you left it, and assumed he’d come around. Honestly, no one else would have even noticed something was different. It was miniscule. But no matter the time, or the distance, you were fine tuned to notice him. Every movement, ever adjustment, every fake smile. Every time he swallowed back anger. You knew it all.

And so there you were, orange headphones nestled in your hair, watching him drive. And it was so odd, to be searching for a 4, and not an 81. Same car, but so different. Yet it didn't feel alien, it felt familiar. And the genuine hope for his success was definitely real. And watching him, on that final lap, knowing you’d be there to watch him on that podium, that was real.

Real to you, at least.

And there you are, by the barriers, watching him step out of the car. He extends his fist into the sky, punching the air, and you can practically see the grin on his face. You knew it well.

His neon helmet comes off, and he's embracing Oscar. And the lights, and shouts, and bodies pushing against yours all blur until all you can see is him running towards you, somewhat ignoring the sea of orange to his left.

And the chants all fade as he crushes his lips onto yours, and you realise you aren’t even thinking of the fans. Of the photos.

You’re thinking of the last three weeks. Stupid, domestic things. Him tying your shoelaces. Returning your drink when the waitress got it wrong. Opening the car door for you. Bringing a jumper to the beach, specifically to give to you in case it was chilly. Never dropping your arm, even if there was no one around. Whispered compliments that no one else would ever hear. And that's all you visualise. His irritating, smiling, lovesick face. And with anyone else, three weeks would be nothing. But each day felt like a lifetime, in the best way.

And in that moment, you realise it was real. It is real, right now. So you kiss him back, hoping he understands that, and you don’t even notice Oscar watching you. You only notice that familiar burning in your stomach.

There are whistles that deafen you as you both pull away, and you smile at him. His expression is not what you were expecting though. You were expecting that well known grin, with his eyes crinkled. But he looks smug. He looks proud of himself, as he soaks in the noise. He’s not looking at you, he’s looking at the cameras, and the fans with their phones out, screaming.

And that brief moment was all you got, because it all comes crashing down. It is real, for you. But evidently, its not reciprocated. Anyone can see that. Idiot, you think. At least it was a fleeting moment of foolishness. You’ve done your job now. You said until the first race. You can go, go home, run away again. And soon enough, they’ll forget you were ever there. And who knows, maybe in four years you’ll come back.

Your ears are ringing and you’re red from embarrassment, but not for the reasons you assume everyone thinks. And you wait, and talk politely, and you keep a brave face on, even though you're rethinking everything.

When the British national anthem plays, you cheer. Wildly. You shout louder than ever to drown out the sound of your heart cracking slightly. And it truly is embarrassing. But the comforting idea of escaping again, back to Italy, back home, is undeniably comforting.

And you forget that in two weeksweek, the race is Monza. It doesn't even cross your mind. The expectation, that you will definitely be there. Considering it's unbelievably close to your house. That the driver's faces will be plastered everywhere.

Your main focus is getting there, as quickly as possible.

***

You’re packing your stuff back into your suitcase, in your flat. You’d made some awkward excuse about having to go back home, because of family. It was bullshit. Lando knew that, but he couldn’t explain what had changed. But you didn't want to be mad at him. It was so unfair- he hadn't done anything wrong. You knew it wasn't real, that was entirely your fault. You didn't want to argue, or accidentally say something you couldn’t take back. So you apologised, and told him with what was going on at home, it was too much. You were overwhelmed, and this charade had to come to an end. And the genuine hurt on his face almost made you reconsider, but instead you just hurriedly closed the door. Maybe if he’d said something. If he hadn't stayed silent. Yes, that was it. If he had said whatever was on his mind, you would’ve stayed. But his silence was so heavy, so hurtful, that it decided your destination for you.

Casting the fresh memory from your mind, you get back to chucking stuff into bags, a mess of clothes and shoes. You’re almost done (you’re very efficient when you need to be) and you have a flight booked for the first thing tomorrow. You’d be gone before Monte Carlo woke up.

There's an awkward but familiar knock at the door, and you know it's Oscar. Coming to say goodbye, presumably. Probably with ‘i told you so’ written all over his calm face. You call for him to come in, because you’d left it unlocked after you’d hurried Lando out, and so he does.

“Hey.” he says softly, staring sadly at the full suitcases piled by your feet.

“Hi.”

“So, you’re really going. I wish I was more surprised.” he sighs.

“Yeah, you were right, for once.” you say, through gritted teeth, but he doesn't laugh.

“I just don't understand. I know you’re a good actor, but you seemed so happy. And no, you were right. It was different. You weren't getting nearly as many hateful comments. So what happened?” he asks, gesturing for you to sit on the sofa with him.

It felt like so long ago now, comforting him there. Being willing to do anything to take that pain from him. Well, you’d succeeded. Now it was yours to bear.

“Nothing. I was just tired of it, and I miss my family, my home, and my cat. You know? It's just been relentless, acting all day to just write all night. I'm exhausted, and I just need to get home.”

He pauses, staring at you intently. And quietly, so quietly, he says what Lando couldn’t.

“Don’t go.”

You take a deep breath. “What?”

“Don’t go. Sure, keep it broken off. He’ll understand. Tell him the truth, that it wasn't worth it, and it was tiring you out. But don't go. I don't want to watch you leave again.”

His face inches closer to yours, and you almost flinch. It’s so strange, being this close, and feeling almost nothing. You search his eyes, to figure out what he’s doing. What he’s about to say.

But he doesn't say anything. He closes the small gap, and suddenly you're a teenager playing spin the bottle again. But he’s a lot bigger, and you’re both a lot older, and it’s much less awkward. And you’re a flurry of movement, arms tangling as you press against each other. It feels warm, and safe, but it's not everything you waited for. And you want to let yourself have this, but you just can’t. So you battle with yourself, until you decide to pull away.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” he says immediately, guilt covering his face.

“No, I, um- it’s okay. But, that’s not the truth.” you reply, trying to act unfazed.

“What?”

“Lando. The truth isn’t that it wasn’t worth it. It was worth it. It was real, it was real to me.” you admit, your voice wavering.

Oscar looks even guiltier.

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have- I promise I wasn’t planning to. I just, I was thinking of you leaving again, and how I’d watched you with him. And I regretted it the first time, when you left. I wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. But if I had known, that's why you were so hurt, I wouldn’t have- seriously.”

You smile at him, weakly.

“It is okay. Really. But I still have to go. You understand, right?” you ask, watching his sad expression match yours.

He nods, getting up. Just as makes it to the door, he turns.

“I’m sorry. Bye, Oscar.” you mutter, but he looks at you hopefully.

“It’s not really bye this time though, is it? Like you said, it’s different. I can still see you. I mean, I’ll be there next week. We aren't the same people. It won't be four years this time. Not even close.” he says, determinedly.

“I’ll be waiting.” you reply firmly, and he laughs silently.

“So will I. Goodnight.” he promises, closing the door behind him.

***

You’d spoken every day since you’d made it back home. Facetimes, stupid videos. Those irritating imessage games that he was annoyingly good at. Oscar, that was.

Radio silence from Lando.

But you were much happier this way. Lando was barely on your mind. You’d never gotten over something so quickly. Oscar definitely helped. And you’d managed to make a serious dent into your series. Overall, it was looking up, and there was still a week to go until the race weekend. Oscar had just come early.

You were almost sick of hearing his knock at your door at this point, but you still opened it. And there he was, looking awfully not-italian against the famous Milan backdrop.

“Missed me?” he asked, wandering into your small house.

“Barely had time to.” you reply honestly, grinning.

He laughs back at you, and that feeling of warmth comes over you again. You hug him tightly, and he wraps himself around you gladly.

“You okay?” he asks, and you nod into his chest.

“Yep, I’m fine. Thanks for coming.” you say, and you mean it. You actually are fine. Once you’d realised it truly was one sided, but it wasn’t even a lie, you had no reason to stay upset. You were actually more hurt by the fact he hadn’t messaged you, once. Not that you’d spoken to him. But still.

“Well, that’s brilliant. Do you want to go get some gelato, or something?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Per favore, non parlare mai più italiano!!” you reply, and he looks at you somewhat blankly.

“But yes, let’s go.” you nod, and you drag him out of the door.

You hadn't realised, but you’d managed to spend the whole day together. So once the sun had truly set, you sent him on his way, promising him he could come for dinner with your Nonna tomorrow. You were walking back now, and that was when you saw someone standing on your porch. He was facing the other way, phone awkwardly in hand, but you recognised his curly hair immediately.

Was he fucking joking?

“Lando? What. Are you doing here?” you ask, letting the obvious anger seep into your voice.

“Oh. Hey! Look, I just wanted to-” he starts, coughing awkwardly, and you have to remind yourself that you have no reason to be mad.

“I'm sorry, I just wanted to ask if you wanted to be friends. I mean, maybe we still are. But you sort of rushed off with no explanation, and I should've said something that night, but, you know. I was confused. I'm sorry. But yeah, I mean, I missed you? And I figured we could still be fine, since it didn’t seem like you were mad at me in particular? Unless you were. Are. Are? I don’t know. I was going to call you, but I was kind of scared. Embarrassing right?” he says uncertainly, stumbling over his fast sentences.

“And are you going to ask me to come to the race next week, so no one starts asking questions?” you say bitterly.

“Okay, ouch. Did I do something?” he asks, but you just sigh and shake your head. You just can’t tell him.

“But I was going to ask you if you wanted to come, yeah. Not as my, um, girlfriend or whatever. Just because you might want to? I know you were wanting to get to know some of the others, you know.” he hums awkwardly, and you can’t help but smile at him.

“Yeah, I’ll think about it. Thanks.”

***

You went. It made sense. You and Lando both acted amicably, and you did appreciate his friendship. He also had a very forgivable face. People had already decided you’d unofficially broken up after your lack of appearances for a week, and your obvious different behaviour had just confirmed this. But clearly, you still looked at each other funny. Oscar ‘heart-eyes’ Piastri had two upcoming rivals. So many people held out hope for rekindled feelings.

It wasn’t the same though. You both knew it wouldn’t be. But with so much hanging between you, life changing words remaining unspoken, your friendship was heavy. Hard to carry. And you almost wished you could forget it, but every time you looked at him for too long, you remembered Zandvoort. So you tried to avoid looking at him too much.

Instead, you played staring games with Oscar. It was so weird, realising there were finally reciprocated feelings. Yet you both were scared, like usual. Fair enough, considering what had just happened. The history. Wondering if he ever saw Lily when he looked at you.

He had another two week gap, before Baku. But he wasn't staying around. Time difference, culture, etc. So you invited him around, to celebrate his podium and to say goodbye, because you wouldn’t be coming to another race for a long time. You had more believable excuses now. You decided your time had come and gone. If something was meant to happen, it would’ve. And maybe it was better to leave well enough alone. Yet, you knew if he asked, you would go against this.

But he wouldn’t. Oscar was safe. He’d play it safe.

He picked at his pizza, looking at you intently.

“Can I help you?” you ask, and his lips purse slightly.

“Would you go insane if I asked you to come to Azerbaijan with me?” he said suddenly.

“Um, kind of? What do you mean?” you respond, completely and utterly cursing him.

“Well, I know after everything, it’s ridiculous. I know, really. But I want you there. I mean, I want you with me, all the time. And you’re no stranger in the paddock now. No one would need to know you’re here just for me, right? You’d just be there.” he says earnestly, looking at his plate.

“What are you asking me?” you say seriously.

“You know what I’m asking you. I told you, I’m not making this mistake again.” he replies, equally serious.

And everything is screaming at you to say no. That it was time. One final no, one final goodbye. No, say no. You could hear your heart aching with the strain of saying yes.

But you could also hear it sighing if you said no.

“I dont know.” you blink at him.

“That's not an option, I'm sorry. You don't want that to be an option either, do you? It's now or never, and it's up to you. I’ll never hold it against you. But we’ve both waited for each other. I don't know about you, but I'm tired of you haunting me. So this is it. Yes, or no?” he says, lowering his voice. It looks like he’s thought about this carefully, and for a long time. But the relief on his face makes you envious, and that's exactly when you know what to say.

“Yes, I’ll come to Azerbaijan with you.”

And it's so much more than that. And you both can't help but grin at each other.

***

So you become a regular face. People give up trying to work out who you’re there for. Most of the Lando fans dubbed you his ‘lucky charm’ and remained convinced you were together, while others had accepted your obvious friendships. Very few suspected you and Oscar, which was relieving. However, you realised what you had was of much higher value than anyone could take. You were well and truly in love.

It felt very different to anything you thought love was before. You wondered if maybe this was something else, larger and more cosmic. You had absolutely no idea how you hadn't shouted out to the whole world yet how much you adored him, since your heart was bursting with it. Yet it really did seem like no one knew. You didn't mind. No one had to know. It was private, adn beautiful, and belonged just to you two.

You were with him, all the time, just like he wanted. Which is how you ended up at the Vegas Grand Prix. Also conveniently, your two month anniversary. Good way to spend it, you thought.

The only thing stressing you out was your friendship with Lando. He was growing more distant, more nervous, more awkward. He was charismatic and magnetic as always of course, but it was these minute details you could notice.

So when he came to you a while after the race, hair doused in champagne, you knew it was time. Whatever he was bothered by, you were about to find out. It was relieving, already. He pulled you away from all the cameras, and began to speak. And as he spoke, you felt terrible for him. Each word, you willed him to unsay. To put it back where it had come from.

“Look, I know I’ve been weird recently. I just, I need to tell you something, okay? Please just, let me say this, alright mate?” he says nervously, and you nod.

“What if we tried again, but for real this time? I mean, we were brilliant, and that was fake.” he begins, and you wince already.

He continues. “I have to be honest, I mean I was really trying to not like you. Seriously. But it was impossible. You were so good at it all, without trying. And you were so, kind? Supportive. I don't even know. And by the end of it-” he explains, pausing at the sight of your face.

“Lando, please don’t. Please.” you beg, but he shakes his head.

“No, I need to admit this to you. It was so real to me, by the end. I didn’t even think that we weren't truly together, you know when. I just wanted to kiss you. And I was going to ask you if you felt it too, and then you basically went ‘fuck off I’m bored of you’ and shut the door in my face.”

“Lando-”

“And yes, I should’ve told you then. Pleaded with you not to go. Told you how I felt. But I knew you didn't feel the same, and I wasn't ready to deal with it. But I didn't want to let you go.” he finishes, looking at you hopefully.

“It was real to me too. I just, I thought it wasn't to you. I was hurt too, that's why I left. But-” you say gently, but it's too late.

That familiar smile grows on his face. “So? Well, that explains so much. I mean, this is great.” he rambles, and your heart hurts for him.

“I’m sorry Lando, I can’t. I’m in love with Oscar.” you practically whisper, but his expression barely changes.

“Yeah, you said that before, and then look what happened.” he replies flippantly, and you sigh.

“No, you muppet. We’ve been together for two months now. I am like, actively in love with him.” you say firmly, groaning.

You don’t wait for a reply, you just hug him tightly.

“Bad timing, huh?” he jokes weakly, and you laugh quietly.

“Yeah, something like that.” you respond. You both pull away, but you refuse to look him in the eyes. That’s when you are saved by a comforting arm around your shoulder, and you melt a little into Oscar, immediately relaxing.

“Hi guys. You okay?” he asks, addressing you both but looking more at you.

“Yep, I’m fine.” you respond, and Lando echoes you.

“Okay, well. We’re off, bye.” he says, now staring at Lando’s strange expression.

“Bye, mate.” he replies sullenly.

‘I’m sorry,” you mouth at him, as you turn away.

‘It’s okay.’

#fanfic #fluff #fake dating #lando norris #oscar piastri #mclaren #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #monza #zandvoort #first post #Spotify

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kikyeom · 3 days ago

Text

Hate’s Love | G.S.J

synopsis: you’re a student who strives for academic validation drowns in workloads forcing you to lock yourself up away from the world. This causes cut-offs from friends and a neglectful fight with your partner. Despite days of intense tension between you two, an unexpected twist occurs making you two make up.

genre: soft angst/angst, high school au (both are seniors), fluff, comfort, classmate!seongje

pairing: geum seongje x reader

warnings: fights, mentions of violence & injur13s, miscommunications, silent treatment/ghosting(?) tons of grammar mistakes :((

You’ve reached the senior level, it’s your last and final year in high school. Workloads start to pile up, and you’ve been facing your screen for hours staring at the continuous uploads and updates of countless assignments and projects. It’s been slowly consuming you inside out as time seems to be running short whereas your life gets frozen out of control.

Seongje on the other hand has been up to the same cycle, his time are all invested in computer games and Union shenanigans. He’s been trying to get a hold of you but being the person he is, it doesn’t go really well.

Your eyes doze off and your body’s starting to break down out of deliberate stress. A ring from your phone wakes you up, reading the name “Geum Seongje.” With an unsurprising face you quietly pick up.

“Open up, it’s cold out here.” He says firmly, standing behind your door with a straight face and that damn jacket of his. The door opens gently with you in clothes that probably haven’t been changed in a couple of days.

He comes in, keeping his eyes on you as you shut the door behind and walk past him. You take a glass of water and place on the table. “You haven’t been answering my calls.” He clicks his tongue.

“Busy.” You sigh, avoiding eye contact.

“Busy enough to ignore me?” He shoots back.

“I actually have a life, Seungje.” You replied, leaning back to the counter, creating a distance between the two of you.

The emphasis of himself hit hard like a truck, knocking the sense out of you. You knew you’ve been ignoring him, and everyone else honestly. You built up walls around yourself, knowing being confined would straighten you up and eventually drive you crazy. However, you also knew he could break those walls down with a single say.

“Feisty now, aren’t we?” He snorts out, clearly knowing something was up.

“I have better things to do, if that’s all you have to say— you’re free to leave.

“That’s hurts, princess. I actually made an effort to come here and this is how you treat me?”

“Yeah. This is how I’ll treat you. You know how I important academics are to me, yet you still jerk around as if it’s a mere joke. You act so high and mighty when you’re just a lonely fool who can’t stand being unnoticed for a single second. This will be how I’ll treat you when you treat me as if I’m some kind of special toy for you to play around for your own content”. You spat out on him, looking him straight in the eyes almost like you’re blaming him for the stress at the same time taking it out on him.

Your words pierce through him. His usual playful demeanor fades away along with you. It felt like you were someone else in his eyes, because to him you were his rock, his comfort, his refuge.

He tries to read you, to see through you but the lump in his throat makes even an attempt difficult. He steps back with his head down, slowly nodding and turning his back from you. Eventually leading himself to the door, hesitantly grabbing the handle. He looks slightly over his shoulder, finding you hunched down looking away from him. That’s it.

That’s almost 2 years of relationship gone. Not only has your life been chipped away but now the love of your life has slipped from you.

The walls feel tighter, with it already confining you—suffocation begins to take your breath away, rubbing salt on the wound. Days pass by with no trace of him, the agonizing silence fueled to guilt you felt. You somehow pulled yourself together and gathered your remaining strength to finally go out and look for him.

You knew finding a gang member would take you ages, understanding that the Union alone is a dangerous group lurking around. You checked every place possible, the narrow street beside the convenience store where he lit a cig or two— the empty bowling alley most of them usually hanged out or even the dirty garage like place they have where they beat up dudes that disobeyed them. He was nowhere, not a single soul has seen a glimpse of his shadow.

You had no choice but to call that clean freak Seongje works with, Na Baek Jin. You two had quite the history considering your obsession with academics. Good thing you managed to get to him, he’s your last hope with him.

“Baek Jin-ah, have you seen Seongje recently?”

You called out to him. The room was cold and still, mirroring the man in front of you.

“Did something happen?” He broke the silence.

“…we sort of fought and I lost contact of him, n-now I can’t even find him.” Your voice broke, your eyes started to fill themselves up with tears you somehow held back. You knew you couldn’t break down, not now.

“I’m sorry for that but I lost contact of him a long time ago too. He fought with this guy and got himself hurt.”

“…then he just suddenly told me to not find for him, and he just left.” He said with a hint of difficulty, seemingly unable to help you.

“How long ago was that?”

“A few months probably, I thought he stayed with you the entire time.”

Your head went blank. Ears blocked out everything and vision started to blur your surroundings. You started losing yourself months ago too, similar to the time he left the Union. And all this time you wondered why he kept bothering you to go out with him.

You anxiously left the room, muttering a thank you on your way out. Time has failed you once again and the skies turned dark as the streets were empty. You pass through the city lights, dancing along stars in the taxi. The nostalgic feeling replicates the late night rides on his motorcycle, speeding through the streets with fresh air engulfing your bodies; as the mutual warmth runs through.

Living alone made your small apartment feel bare, but he came along, swinging by and bringing comfort. Stepping into the space that smelled like his scent, his presence popped up like memories in every corner. You’ve realized how much he spent his time with you, each room has him in it— as if his shadow was painted around the apartment.

You sat down on the couch, it felt way too vacant, way too big. Even after a week of you searching for him wasn’t enough. With low hopes, you shut your eyes closed. At least you could catch up to him in your dreams.

As you drift off to sleep, a rustle outside startles you up. Then a blur of light reaches the room. You squint your eyes at the source of light, unusual warmth hitting your cheek. Before you even think, your body brings you to the hall of your entrance.

There you find him, in your own house. Wincing in pain, gripping his bloody side with a weak and weary demeanor. As if it took him all his strength to make his way to you. He manages to take off his shoes and slowly step towards you, pausing—taking a good look of your face, as if mesmerizing you.

“Thank God, you’re safe.” He whispered beneath his breath.

He then dips his head into the crook of your neck, you’re still shocked up standing there with a sense of shame and relief. His warm, shallow, and soft breaths hit your neck sending chills down your spine. Your hands cautiously travel up to his back, the other on his waist—pulling him into a meek hug.

You snap out of it and pull back, recalling the wounded man. You gradually help him to the couch, hurriedly grabbing a first aid kit. You take his hand covering the damage, revealing a messy cut on his side. You partially lift the clothing to check the injury, but he had other ideas and took his shirt off entirely— showing even more scars mapping around his torso.

Your trembling hands carefully treated him, one by one with utmost care yet with guilty shame. After patching up his body, you lift your head up to par with his. Meeting his eyes and subtle smile. You avoid eye contact once again, focusing on the cuts and bruises on his face. Your body leans towards his, faces inches away from each other. Before you can even notice, he pulls you between his legs and seats you on his lap.

As you finish patching him up, the tension continues to increase. You can feel his eyes following your every move, how he studies your face and reads your mind. His presence itself blocks out everything—tearing down walls and calming down storms. The ineffable perplexity in your head seems to untangle at the sight of him.

A sense of relief goes through you, seeing his smug face and cocky attitude. But your body’s still like a rock and your fingers slightly shaking, as if the words are stuck down your throat. You don’t even know what you’d say if you could even mutter it out loud, yet your heart is flaring with expressions of anger—reassurance and love.

“..what happened?” Your voice low, taking all you had to not break your voice.

“Just a usual fight, they said some crap about you. Couldn’t hold it in.”

“Why is it always me? In each and every thing you do leads back to me. Can’t you prioritize yourself at least once?”

“No. I’ve been through tougher times, I’ve witnessed brutality and deep wounds. But I can’t just stand back when it’s about you.” He says casually, poking his tongue in his cheek.

It seems so usual, yet so deep. You’ve come to a point where silence speaks louder than words; the connection has become stronger than anything.

Everything you had held back, those times when you couldn’t express yourself— keeping your emotions at the deepest parts of your heart.

All that just poured out.

Tears start flowing down your eyes and sobs begin to escape. Seongje, taken back— cradles the back of your head gently with his huge and calloused hands and guides it to his bare and injured chest.

His arms wrap around your body like your some kind of fragile glass that’d break if he held to hard. Your tears ran cold in the warm embrace of him.

“I’m the one who got hurt, yet you’re the one who’s cryin’?” He teased.

“I’m hurt too you know!”

Of course the man doesn’t know how to comfort, he’s lived in an environment of constant misery and suffering. All he’s learned was to defend himself and eventually beat up annoying dorks at his feet. Even so, the stillness always spoke to you more. You could feel the genuine comfort in his body, shielding you against this cruel world.

Your arms tighten around his neck as he leans back and slowly moves to lay down. He kept you between his chest and couch, trapping you in his arms. Your breathing matched his, and his heartbeat calms you down. Leading you finally resting in your home.

#weak hero class two #whc2 #geum seong je #fluff #angst #comfort #first post #lee jun young #seong je #viralpost #make this go viral #blow up #writers on tumblr

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