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Lando Norris is an Olympic snowboarder. He is extremely talented and is admired by so many others. Although he is such a happy personality, his reality is much different than it seems. When he is training for a huge challenge ahead of him, his coach finds it wise to enlist the help of a certain Australian Olympic surfer
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Oscar used to think Lando was the sun. Warm, bright, impossible not to love. But the closer he flew, the more his wings began to burn.
“I fell in love with the sun, and now my wings are burning.”
After a chaotic Singapore Grand Prix, Oscar Piastri finds himself caught between victory and emptiness. The team celebrates a championship, but his name is barely mentioned. On the surface, everything looks perfect for McLaren, yet behind the cameras and champagne, something inside Oscar is breaking. After Singapore, Oscar must face the truth about love, rivalry, and the loneliness that follows both.
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When Lando asked his roommate to be his fake date for a wedding, he didn't think it was a terrible idea. When they spent a week sharing a bed after an unfortunate ceiling leak, it wasn't a big deal. When he realised he was maybe irrevocably in love with his roommate, it became a bit of a problem.
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When Oscar's roommate of three years and crush of the same amount of time asked him to be his fake date for a wedding, he thought he'd be fine. When he ended up sleeping in his bed for the better part of a week, he thought he could deal with it. When that same roommate drunkenly kissed him on a night out, it became a bit of a problem.
Fully complete, updates every couple days :)
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It's Zandvoort 2025 just finished, and in the aftermath of about four different afterparties of pure depression, Lando Norris, the unluckiest F1 driver of all time, finds himself on his balcony, wallowing in self pity. The points gap to championship rival Oscar Piastri is fucking 34 now, making breaching it seem like a lost fucking hope. Not that Lando is known for his talents in the hope retention department.
As typical of him, lando gets crossfaded off his ass. His fake PR relationship 'girlfriend', Magui, left an hour ago. His family isn't here. He'd left Verstappen and Charles to snog behind a bar somewhere and hadn't seen them since. Lando feels like shite. He's inebriated.
He decides the best way to deal with his issues is to die.
The guy who stops him, is of course, fucking Piastri.
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Oscar arrives in North London with nothing and no one. A broken past, a pull-out mattress, and a name that gets him in more trouble than it’s worth.
He wasn’t supposed to stay. He wasn’t supposed to race. And he definitely wasn’t supposed to fall for the boy who sees everything but never lets anyone in.
But the streets don’t care what you’re supposed to do. And neither does Lando.
