Chapter Text
Oscar Piastri prided himself on two things: his grades and his peace.
He wasn’t the type to throw wild parties or stay out until sunrise. He liked structure—his books stacked in clean rows, his notes color-coded, his bed made before breakfast. Some people thought he was uptight. He thought he was efficient.
So when he was assigned a roommate for his sophomore year, Oscar had hoped—prayed—for someone who shared those values.
Instead, he got Lando Norris. The first time Oscar saw him was move-in day, and he knew immediately: his peace was over.
Lando burst into the dorm like a storm, arms full of clothes that weren’t folded but shoved into duffel bags, a skateboard tucked under one arm, and a grin that stretched wide enough to make two girls walking past the door giggle.
“Roomie!” Lando said, dropping his bags in the middle of the floor with a dramatic thud. “You must be Oscar.”
Oscar, who had already unpacked and neatly arranged his desk, looked up from aligning his textbooks. “Yes.”
No handshake or whatever polite introduction was supposed to happen.
Lando didn’t seem to notice. He spun around the room like he owned it, pointing at the empty bed. “That one’s mine, yeah?”
Oscar blinked. “They’re identical.”
“Not true.” Lando flopped onto the mattress, bouncing on the springs. “This one’s closer to the window. I like natural light. Also, easy escape route if I ever need to climb down the building. You never know.”
Oscar stared at him for a long moment. “You’re joking.”
“Am I?” Lando wiggled his eyebrows.
Yes. Absolutely. Oscar turned back to his desk and silently prayed the semester would pass quickly.
By day three, Oscar realized he had underestimated the disaster.
Lando was loud. Not just conversational loud—singing-in-the-shower, blasting-music-at-midnight, narrating-his-own-life loud. He dropped his backpack wherever he felt like it, tossed his hoodie on the chair Oscar used to study, left empty energy drink cans on the counter.
“Could you not?” Oscar said flatly one evening, picking up a crumpled t-shirt from his bed.
“What? It’s clean,” Lando replied from where he was sprawled on his mattress, gaming headset on. “Mostly.”
Oscar held it between two fingers like it was toxic waste. “Then put it away.”
Lando snorted. “Yes, mum.”
Oscar inhaled slowly through his nose. He wasn’t going to let this stranger get under his skin. Except Lando had an infuriating talent for making that impossible.
The first real clash came a week later.
Oscar was at his desk, typing out a lab report, when Lando burst in with three people he didn’t recognize. Two girls, one guy. All laughing, loud, carrying snacks and sodas.
“Game night!” Lando announced, throwing his arms open. “Hope you don’t mind, mate.”
Oscar’s hands stilled on the keyboard. He looked at the clock. 11:07 PM.
“I do mind,” he said evenly.
Lando blinked, as though the idea had never occurred to him. “It’s just a few games. We’ll keep it down.”
“You don’t keep anything down.”
That got the attention of the guests, who glanced between them awkwardly. Lando laughed it off, clapping Oscar’s shoulder like they were best friends. “Don’t be such a grandpa, yeah?”
Oscar turned slowly, meeting his eyes. “Lando. I have a 7 AM lecture. If you want to play games, fine. But not here.”
For the first time since move-in, Lando faltered just a second. Then he grinned wider. “Damn. Didn’t know you had a spine.”
Oscar didn’t smile. “You’ll learn.”
Something flickered across Lando’s face—amusement, maybe curiosity but he held up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. We’ll go next door. Don’t wait up, roomie.”
The door shut behind him, and Oscar exhaled, tension curling in his chest.
He told himself he should hate Lando Norris. He told himself he did hate him. But Lando’s laugh still echoed in the silence, bright and irritatingly infectious.
The snowstorm came three weeks later. Classes were canceled. The campus café closed early. Roads iced over, trapping students inside dorms.
Oscar didn’t mind. He liked the quiet. Snow muffled everything, a perfect excuse to hole up with his work.
But Lando? Lando paced the room like a caged animal. “This is torture,” he groaned, flopping across Oscar’s bed without permission. “I’m gonna die of boredom.”
“You’ll survive.” Oscar didn’t look up from his laptop.
“You’re heartless.”
“I’m realistic.”
“Same thing.”
Oscar finally sighed and shut the laptop. “Do you ever sit still?”
Lando turned his head, chin resting on his folded arms. His hair was messy, falling into his eyes, and his grin was lazy. “Not when I’ve got a roommate who glares at me all day. It’s intimidating.”
Oscar rolled his eyes. “You’re not intimidated by anything.”
“True but you…” Lando tilted his head, studying him. “You’re hard to read, mate. I can’t tell if you secretly want to murder me or if you just… like being in control.”
That landed heavier than Lando probably intended. Oscar met his gaze, steady as ever. “Maybe both.”
For once, Lando was quiet and for once, Oscar didn’t look away first.
That night, the storm howled outside, rattling the window. Lando was curled in his bed, scrolling on his phone, when he broke the silence. “Hey, Oscar.”
Oscar hummed, eyes closed, pretending to sleep.
“Do you ever… like, loosen up? Ever?”
Oscar cracked one eye open. “Why?”
Lando shrugged, voice softer than usual. “Just wondering what it would take.”
The room was dark, shadows dancing on the walls. Oscar thought about all the ways he could answer. He thought about telling Lando it would take silence, order, maybe an entirely different personality.
Instead, he said, “You’ll find out if you push hard enough.”
Lando’s breath caught, just barely audible.
Oscar closed his eyes again, a faint, satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. Let Lando think he was in control. Oscar knew better.