friends? worse.

The first time Oscar met Lando, he'd been standing on a table in the middle of a freshman orientation party, shouting the lyrics to Mr. Brightside. He had never seen someone so in their element.

Oscar had stared for a long moment before muttering, "He's going to fall."

"He does this every weekend," someone beside him replied.

As if on cue, Lando slipped. Not fully. Just enough to send drinks sloshing everywhere as the room erupted into laughter. Lando caught himself on someone's shoulder, grinning so brightly it was almost offensive.

Oscar should've left then. He really should have. He'd only come because his roommate claimed it was "social suicide" if he didn't go. He already hated the sticky floors, the suffocating heat, the way strangers kept bumping into and spilling their drinks on him.

Just as Oscar predicted, Lando fell again, only straight into Oscar's arms.

"You look miserable," he'd said.

"You look drunk." Oscar deadpanned.

"Correct." Lando had grinned. "I'm Lando."

"Oscar."

It should not have been that easy.

And yet somehow, four years later, they were still here.

Senior year. Same ridiculous parties where Lando would drag Oscar along and would dance on the table while Oscar would make sure he didn't fall, and then make sure he got home.

Even now, as Oscar dragged Lando into bed, making sure he had water and Advil for the morning.

"You know," Lando said lazily from his bed, "I think I'm ready for something serious."

Oscar didn't look up from taking off Lando's shoes. "That sentence sounds unnatural coming out of your mouth."

"I'm serious." He whined.

"You're drunk."

Lando threw a pillow at him.

Oscar caught it without looking.

"You're evil," Lando informed him.

"You've said that before."

"Yeah, but this time I mean it."

Oscar snorted softly. The sound made something warm settle in Lando's chest in the way it always did. Lando rolled onto his stomach, shoving his face into the pillow. Oscar rolled him onto his side, "You'll suffocate yourself, mate."

"Leave me to die, Oscar."

"My god, you are so dramatic." Oscar readjusted Lando's pillow and made sure his head was positioned just right.

Lando was getting properly sleepy now, "Mhmm, thank you, Oscar, you're perfect."

Oscar's movements faltered a bit, a slight flush coming to his cheeks. "Get some sleep, Lan, I'll be back in the morning."

As Oscar left the room, Lando's thoughts wandered, stuck on the idea of finding something long-term.

He was tired of hookups that meant nothing. Tired of dates, he sabotaged halfway through because none of them laughed like Oscar, or argued like Oscar, or looked at him the way Oscar did, or cared for him the way Oscar did...

It was pathetic, honestly.

In love with his straight best friend. He wasn't entirely sure when it happened, but at some point, self-preservation had to kick in.

"I need to move on," Lando said finally before drifting off to sleep.

>>>>>>>

The next day, Lando's hangover was horrid. He drank the water and took the Advil Oscar had left for him. Much to his dismay, it did not kick in right away. A knock sounded on his apartment door. Lando did not get up to answer it.