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They’d arrived in Japan earlier than usual for the Suzuka grand prix. Earlier than the noise, the pressure, and the endless cycle of practice laps and media duties. For once, there was space and time that didn’t belong to racing. And Lando, apparently, had decided to fill every second of it.
“Stop, don’t move,” he said for what had to be the tenth time that day, already crouching slightly with his camera raised. Carlos groaned. “Mate, we’ve been ‘not moving’ for five minutes.” “It’s for the lighting,” Lando insisted, squinting through the lens. “Alex, you’re blocking the—yeah, no, just—there, perfect.” Oscar stood just off to the side, hands tucked loosely into his jacket pockets, watching.
Lando had been like this all day. In fact, ever since they’d started wandering through crowded markets, quiet side alleys, and little cafés tucked between buildings, he’d had that camera in his hands, chasing moments like he was afraid they’d disappear if he didn’t catch them in time.
It suited him.
Too much, maybe.
“You gonna take the picture or just stare at us forever?” Alex called out. Lando laughed, finally snapping the picture whispering about how he finally got the angle and lighting correctly. “You’re welcome, by the way. These photos are gonna be great.” “Yeah, yeah,” Carlos muttered, already stepping away. “Send them later.” Lando lowered the camera, glancing over the shots with a small, satisfied smile. Then, like it was instinct, his gaze flicked up. Straight to Oscar.
“Hold on,” Lando said, already stepping closer. “You, stay there.” Oscar blinked. “What?” “Just don’t move.” He didn’t. Whatever Lando asked of him, he does it.
The camera lifted again, and for a moment, it wasn’t the group anymore. It wasn’t the noise or the city or the others walking ahead. It was just this.
Oscar, standing under the soft afternoon light, the faintest breeze catching in his hair. And Lando, looking at him like he was something worth capturing. Something worth remembering. The click of the shutter felt louder than it should’ve. “…You done?” Oscar asked, quieter than usual. Lando hesitated for half a second, just enough to matter. “Yeah,” he said, lowering the camera. “Yeah, that’s good.” Oscar nodded, but something in his chest tightened anyway.
By the time they reached the shrine, the sky had started to shift to gold bleeding into something softer, and quieter. It was calmer there. Less crowded. The kind of place that makes you instinctively lower your voice, like the air itself asked for it.
“Alright,” Alex said, stretching slightly. “This is the last stop, yeah?” “Yeah,” Lando replied, already looking around, camera still in hand but momentarily forgotten. “Apparently you can write wishes here.”
Carlos hummed, tilting his head as he eyed the rows of wooden plaques. “What, like actual wishes? Or is this one of those things where you write it and then nothing happens and you just pretend it meant something?” “Yeah,” Lando said, pointing toward them. “On those. Ema, I think.”
Carlos squinted. “Ema?” “Pretty sure,” Lando shrugged. “Saw it online.” “Right,” Alex cut in dryly. “Because Lando Norris, reliable source of cultural knowledge.” “Oi,” Lando frowned. “I am reliable.” “Yeah,” Carlos nodded. “Reliably wrong.” Lando scoffed. “You two are insufferable.” “Not as insufferable as you with that camera,” Alex shot back.
Carlos smirked. “Yeah, how many photos have you taken today? A thousand?” “Quality over quantity,” Lando said defensively. “You’ve taken both,” Alex said. Carlos nudged him lightly. “Careful, mate. He’ll make you pose again.” Alex groaned. “Don’t even joke about that.”
“Too late,” Lando grinned. “I was thinking we get one here actually, like a meaningful one. Cultural and Artistic.” “Absolutely not,” Alex said immediately. Carlos raised a hand. “Hard pass.” “Unbelievable,” Lando muttered. “No appreciation for art.” “Yeah,” Carlos said, already turning toward the plaques. “We’ll leave the art to you and your… candid stalking.” “It’s not stalking, it’s photography” Lando protested. “Mm,” Alex hummed. “Tell that to Oscar. You’ve taken about eighty-one of him alone.”
Lando froze for half a second. This made Alex and Carlos' grin very wide. “Oh?” Oscar, who had been standing quietly beside them, felt the attention shift a little too suddenly.
“I–he just… stands still,” Lando said quickly. “It’s easy to capture his photos!” “Right,” Alex nodded with very poor pretense. “That’s definitely the reason.” Carlos clapped his hands once. “Anyway, wishes. Let’s see what you’ll wish for Albono,” he said, nudging Alex forward.
“Probably a better teammate,” Alex shot back instantly. Carlos gasped, mock offended. “Excuse me? I am an excellent teammate.”
“Debatable.”
“I bring fun.”
“Nope.”
“I bring enlightenment.”
“Well I’m certainly not lightened up,” Alex said flatly, making Lando snort and Carlos shake his head. “Unbelievable. This is what I get.” “Yeah,” Alex said, already grabbing a plaque. “Come get your ema, and stop being loud.” Carlos scoffed but followed anyway, still muttering something under his breath about “ungrateful teammates” and “carrying the team single-handedly.”
They naturally drifted off together, the bickering fading into the background, leaving Lando and Oscar lingering just a step behind. For a moment, neither of them moved.
Lando exhaled softly, glancing around at the quiet space, the rows of wooden plaques swaying just slightly in the breeze. “Kinda nice, isn’t it?” Oscar looked at him, then back at the shrine, taking in the stillness of it. “…Yeah. It is.” It really was. And that was the problem.
They moved toward the stall together, picking up blank plaques and markers. Oscar turned the wood over in his hands, running his thumb along the smooth surface. It felt light. Simple. Too simple, for something that was supposed to hold a wish.
Lando uncapped his marker, then glanced sideways. “You’ve been quiet.” Oscar paused, just slightly. “Have I?” “Yeah,” Lando said, easy, not pushing. “More than usual.” Oscar let out a small breath, something almost like a laugh. “I’m fine.”
And he was. If anything, he felt too aware of the quiet, of the moment, of Lando standing just close enough to matter. “I just… like it here,” he added, softer. “It’s nice.” Lando studied him for a second, then his expression softened. “Yeah. It is.”
A small pause settled between them. One that is not awkward, just… full. Of what? he can’t pin point yet, but one thing for sure is that it’s not something distasteful. Then, Lando nudged the moment forward, tapping the edge of Oscar’s plaque lightly.
“Alright, what’re you gonna write?” Oscar glanced down. “Dunno.” “Come on,” Lando grinned, leaning a bit closer. “You’ve gotta have something. World championship? Pole position? Endless supplies of tim-tams?” Oscar huffed a quiet laugh. “Bit obvious, don’t you think?” “Alright, fair,” Lando said, tilting his head. “Then is something that's a secret?.”
Oscar didn’t answer. Because that was the problem, wasn’t it? It wasn't a secret.
Not to him.
Not anymore.
Lando had already started writing, his expression light, almost amused, like this didn’t weigh anything at all. Oscar looked down at his own plaque. Blank. He could write anything. Something safe, good luck for the race, or maybe just even the chance to be able to participate this weekend. That one seems like a decent wish, given the circumstance they were in for the past two races–or the lack of race that they were able to partake in. But his grip tightened slightly around the marker. Because that wasn’t what he wanted. At least, not the most. He glanced up again. Lando was still focused on his own plaque, a small smile tugging at his lips, completely unaware. Oscar swallowed, then finally lowered his gaze and started writing.
They hung their plaques among the others without much thought, side by side. “Done,” Lando said, dusting his hands together lightly. “Mint.” Oscar nodded, though his gaze lingered for a second longer. “Yeah, Mint.”
Lando leaned back slightly, scanning the rows. “Imagine if these actually work.” Oscar followed his gaze, reluctantly humming. “Mhm.” Lando glanced at him, before asking, “You don’t think so?” Oscar met his eyes, something quieter settling in his expression. “... Dunno.”
Lando looked back at the plaques, then shrugged lightly. “I mean… I hope they do.” Oscar stilled, just a fraction. “You do?” “Yeah, why not? Lando said, like it was obvious. “But what if the wish seems so far from reach," Oscar starts “would you still hold onto the hope of it coming true?” he finishes. “I would still hope that they do, yeah.” Lando says easily. “… So you actually believe that?” Lando huffed a small laugh, but it wasn’t dismissive this time. “Not like fully. But…” he glanced back at the plaques again, softer now, “if you’re gonna write something down like that, might as well hope it comes true, yeah?” Oscar didn’t answer right away. “…Yeah,” he said finally, quieter. “I guess.”
“Oi! You two done or what?” Carlos’s voice cut through it, loud and familiar. Lando laughed, stepping back. “Yeah, yeah coming.” He turned to follow. Oscar lingered for just a moment, eyes flicking back to the plaques, then he went after him.
Not long after they’d hung their ema, they were on their way back to the hotel. The day had stretched long, filled with wandering through streets, browsing markets, and ducking into quiet side alleys, and now night had settled over the city.
Earlier, they’d stopped at a small, bustling ramen shop to eat dinner. Lando had been practically vibrating with excitement, twisting noodles around his chopsticks in a very unskilled attempt to eat them properly. Carlos had watched him, arms crossed, laughing. “Oi! You’re eating like a kid. Stop stabbing at them like that!”
Lando had pouted, noodles dangling from his mouth. “Shut up! And you and your sushi? Yuck! I can’t stand fish!” Carlos rolled his eyes. “You’re old, mate. You need to grow up, eat something different for once.” “I do grow up,” Lando protested, slurping another strand of noodles with exaggerated flair. “I just… don’t like fish!”
Oscar, sitting quietly at the table, just smiled to himself. He loved this—Lando’s dramatic pouts, Carlos’s relentless teasing, Alex quietly chuckling at both of them. He felt warm and content, savoring the small chaos and laughter. He twirled his own noodles with ease, soaking in the group’s energy.
In no time, the group was back at their hotel. The city lights faded behind them as they walked through the lobby. Lando and Oscar shared a room; Alex and Carlos were in the next one over, their voices drifting down the hallway in low, good-natured bickering as they passed by the door.
Oscar fell into step beside Lando, letting his mind wander. It was… odd, he thought. How had it ended up like this? Sharing a room, walking back through the same streets they’d wandered all day, the hotel feeling smaller and more intimate than usual. It was comfortable, warm even—but there was a tension in it too, a quiet awareness that made him pause at little things. The way Lando laughed at something, the tilt of his head as he listened, the casual way he moved. Basically everything that Lando does.
The tension wasn’t bringing discomfort, or at least not for a negative reason. More like a constant hum under his skin, a careful noticing of everything that seemed ordinary but somehow mattered more than it should. Oscar shook his head lightly, trying to push the thoughts away, but they lingered.
The hotel room ahead seemed welcoming. But as he stepped through the door, he couldn’t help noticing how the space suddenly felt smaller, and closer. Lando had already set his bag down, moving toward the window to check the city view, and Oscar found himself lingering at the edge of the room, taking in the quiet, the soft lighting, the way the day’s exhaustion had finally softened into calm.
He let out a soft breath, smoothing the edge of his sleeve. It was… nice, being here, in this small, quiet space, just the two of them. And yet, the subtle tension—the feeling that everything ordinary might suddenly feel more than ordinary—kept him aware of every movement, every glance, every shift in the air. Oscar didn’t know how it had come to this, exactly. He only knew that it felt… different. Good, even. A little anxious, a little grounding, and entirely impossible to ignore.
“…Wait.” Lando’s voice broke through the silence. Oscar, who was previously watching Lando’s back immediately turned his head before the latter could catch him gazing at him. He then raised an eyebrow, “Why?” “My lens cap,” Lando muttered, patting his pockets. “I think I left it at the shrine.”
Oscar tilted his head. “I’ll come with you.” Lando waved his hand, already moving toward the door. “Nah, you don’t need to. It’s just a lens cap, it’ll be easy for me to retrieve it.” Oscar rolled his eyes but followed anyway. “Fine, but if you trip over something, or if you get lost then I’m gonna laugh at you.” No he wouldn’t.
The hotel was only a few blocks from the shrine, so the walk was short, quiet, and illuminated mostly by street lamps and the moon. Lando dug his phone out, using the flashlight to scan the pavement and bushes as he approached the small shrine courtyard.
“Here… no… damn it.” Lando crouched, sweeping the beam of his phone’s flashlight across the ground, around the stone steps and the small bushes. The shrine was quiet, the night deep, with only the faint hum of the city in the distance. He muttered under his breath, patting the gravel, brushing the edge of a wooden rack with his hand. “Here… no… come on…”
Finally, under a small pile of fallen leaves near the corner of the ema display, something caught the light. Lando’s heart gave a small leap as he reached down and grabbed it. It was his lens cap! Relief washed over him, though his pulse still thudded from the sudden quiet and stillness of the shrine.
He straightened, holding it for a moment, and let his eyes drift across the rows of ema plaques. The light from his phone flickered along the wood, and then something caught his attention.
Familiar handwriting. Messy. Less controlled. Oscar’s.
Lando froze, chest tightening, pulse picking up again. He shouldn’t, he knew he shouldn’t… but he was drawn forward anyway, flashlight hovering over the small wooden plaque.
Everyone else’s ema we’re paid no mind to. All, except for Oscar’s wish.
It wasn’t about racing.
Not about luck.
Not about anything superficial.
It was simple.
Something honest, and from within his heart.
And unmistakably, him.
Lando’s breath caught. “…Oh.”
He stared at it, longer than he meant to, heart hammering in his chest as he read the words again. The loops of letters, the subtle trembling hope behind them. And suddenly all the little things–the way Oscar always stayed when Lando asked, the way he listened, the soft weight of his gaze—weren’t small anymore. They were everything. “…Idiot,” Lando muttered under his breath, dragging a hand through his hair. Not at Oscar. Not entirely. But mostly to himself.
He grabbed the lens cap in one hand, holding the plaque lightly in the other, and took a slow breath. The streets back to the hotel felt impossibly long, each step quick with anticipation. When he finally reached their floor, heart still racing, he found Oscar sitting on the edge of the bed, quiet, gazing out at the city lights through the window.
“Oscar.”
Oscar turned slightly, as if snapped from his daze. “You’re back. What took you so long?” Lando stopped a step from him, keeping the lens cap in one hand, the plaque still tucked lightly under his arm. “…I saw it,” he admitted, voice low.
Oscar blinked. “…Saw what?” “Your wish. This.” Oscar’s jaw tightened, gaze flicking away from Lando and the ema he was now holding out. “…You weren’t supposed to.” “I know.” “Then why—” “I didn’t mean to,” Lando said, quiet, careful. “I just… I don’t know….” his voice sounded almost pitiful.
Oscar let out a soft breath, shaking his head. “Forget it. It was stupid anyway, I—” “It wasn’t.” Lando quickly interjected. Oscar looked back briefly towards Lando, and Lando held his gaze.
“It wasn’t stupid.” Lando muttered. Something in Oscar softened. “…You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured. “I wasn’t expecting—” “I know.” Lando stepped a careful half-step closer. “But maybe…” he laughed softly, a little nervous, “…maybe I should’ve been paying more attention.”
Oscar didn’t move. Didn’t speak.
Lando rubbed the back of his neck. “I wrote something stupid. About winning and… whatever.” Oscar pressed his lips together faintly. “Sounds about right.” “Yeah. But if I could rewrite it…” Lando trailed off, then finished quietly, “…I don’t think that’s what I’d put.” Oscar’s breath caught. “…What would you write, then?” Lando didn’t look away. “…Probably something a lot closer to yours.”
The words hung between them, soft, real. Oscar searched his face like he expected a joke. There wasn’t one. “…You’re serious?” Lando nodded. “Yeah.” A beat passed. Then Oscar let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. “…You’re unbelievable.” Lando smiled faintly. “I’ve been told.”
“Yeah, well,” Oscar said, stepping closer without thinking, “…you’re also really late with your realizations.” “Better late than never,” Lando replied. “Debatable,” Oscar said lightly, but his voice carried warmth.
Oscar reached out, brushing his fingers along Lando’s hand, and Lando felt his chest tighten immediately. Slowly, deliberately, Oscar laced their fingers together. Lando’s heartbeat sped up even more, and without thinking, he leaned in, resting his forehead against Oscar’s shoulder. The gesture was tentative, and trusting.
Oscar, steady and sure, shifted slightly, pressing a gentle hand against Lando’s back, guiding him closer. “Feels… right, doesn’t it?” Oscar murmured, voice low, comforting, and grounding. Lando let out a soft, breathless laugh. “Yeah… it really does.”
Oscar leaned down just enough to tilt Lando’s face toward his, eyes soft but certain. He pressed a gentle kiss to Lando’s lips, slow, deliberate, letting Lando melt into the warmth of it. Lando’s hand rose instinctively, resting lightly against Oscar’s arm.
The kiss deepened naturally. Lando tilting his head, leaning fully into Oscar, letting himself be guided. Oscar’s other hand brushed through the back of Lando’s hair, pulling him just a little closer, patient and reassuring. Lando closed his eyes, breathing in the quiet intimacy, trusting entirely in the careful certainty of Oscar’s touch.
When they finally broke apart, Lando’s forehead rested against Oscar’s chest. He felt steady there, protected, full of warmth and something entirely new. “I'm so happy,” Lando murmured again, voice soft, almost reverent. Oscar let out a quiet, contented sigh, pressing a light kiss to the top of Lando’s head. “I feel the same,” he whispered, voice gentle but full of quiet reassurance.
Later, when the hotel was silent and the city–including them–had gone to sleep, the ema placed by the window glimmered gently underneath the silver moonlight. The soft glow illuminated the letters, revealing Oscar’s wish in all its quiet, yearning honesty: “I wish Lando could see how much of my heart is his… and wish he wanted it too.”
And now, in the soft warmth of their shared room, it had finally come true.