The first thing I notice when I wake up is Oscar isn't here. The quiet wrongness of waking up without his knees pressed into my thighs or his arm slung carelessly across my ribs irritates me more than it should be.

We didn't sleep together last night, not because we fought or something bad happened between us. Different schedules, late meetings, exhaustion stacked on top of exhaustion gave us no time to be together in peace. All sensible reasons.

I know I should keep my mouth shut about it because it's no big deal. Still, I woke up this morning already missing something I hadn't realized I depended on.

My phone keeps vibrating on the nightstand, persistent and demanding so I reach for it naturally. Little do I know.

It's not a single notification and more like a cascade waiting for me to look at. Messages pilling over each other so fast my screen barely has time to refresh. TikTok, Instagram, group chats I muted days ago, mentions I stop checking on purpose. Every platform has decided to ambush me at once.

I open TikTok anyway, then curse myself for the level of stupidity I have achieve. The first video I see is from yesterday - media day. I remember it vividly that moment when Oscar and I standing off to the side of stage, waiting for the host to finish her line. I shifted my weight from my left foot to right and immediately follow after, Oscar did the same thing. The account owner slowed that moment down, added soft instrumental track and titled it with "THEY DON'T EVEN REALIZED THEIR ACTIONS" in full capital letters.

I scroll.

Another one, still from yesterday but with different angle. We were adjusting our headset at the same time, a finger touching nose. Then another one, a synchronized nod during interview. We reached for our own water bottle at the same time from two different sides of the stage.

The timestamps are what make my stomach tighten in annoyance. Posted 4 hours ago. Posted 2 hours ago. Posted 56 minutes ago.

This isn't old footage being recycle. This is me thinking I'd been careful, thinking I'd kept my facial expression natural and my distance measured, only to wake up and realize the internet has been watching every micro-movement I had taken.

I groan out loud and drop the phone onto my chest as a video I scroll past has someone commented "The way Lando looks for Oscar before thinking". Apparently my "heart eyes" are now public property, something need to be studied with slow motion, wedding songs and no mercy.

"I hid it", I mutter to myself, "I hid my feelings so so well".

The phone buzzes again but I don't bother to unlock and check it again, fully knowing what would be there. People are confidently narrating my inner-self like it's a documentary they've already seen and memorized the ending.

The irritation settles deeper in my head. It's not that people are wrong and I have rights to be mad at them. Being a public figure means the rights to react is long gone ages ago.

I just don't feel ready to be noticed, not like this. I've been the center of attention for as long as I can remember but this relationship is something I had vowed to protect. Nothing stays protected when the world around is full of vipers dressed in empath's clothing. It's only Friday. Still too early to feel this exposed.

By the time I arrive at the paddock, I've convinced myself that I'm a real tough kid, I can handle my shit. Those were Taylor Swift's lines, not mine, but I'm gonna listen to what she says - fake it until I make it.

"The internet is loud but temporary. Paddock teasing is a known quantity but they're all my friends. I've been long enough in Formula 1 to survive a few edits and dramatic wedding entrance song." – I keep telling myself over and over again.

I even manage to feel vaguely professional walking through security, nodding at familiar faces. That confident lasts about a minute or so.

"Morning, Sync King."

I don't turn around, I don't need to. George's voice carries his laughs to me, the unmistakable sound of a man who has already seen too much TikTok before breakfast. The chronical online king must take his chance to make fun of me, of course. He falls into step beside me, still trying to make conversation, "I blinked this morning and thought of you, mate".

I stop and slowly turn to him, full of confusion, "Why? You miss me?"

"Apparently blinking at the same time as your teammate is now a personality trait. Do you think Kimi can do it? Even with that, he would only be half as cool as me."

I don't answer any of his ridiculous question, walk faster to my team.

Charles intercepts us near the hospitality area, coffee in hand, looking suspiciously cheerful today. Has he ever been this happy on track with his Ferrari?

"I learn a new phrase today – co-regulation", he says casually. "What does it mean Lando? French is my first language, you know."

I point at him, "You are banned from using psychology terms around me and no, I'm not going to teach you new vocabulary so you can use it against me."

He smiles like that was the goal the entire time, "I will send you the video."

The same song used on those TikTok videos has been played on repeat everywhere, even in this paddock. I fear myself of going crazy. Lewis appears like a final boss I didn't ask for. He doesn't tease me the way others do, just look between me and Oscar - who's a few steps away, tucked inside McLaren garage - then back at me.

"You guys made it to my feed. The internet is obsessed", he says flatly.

"Thank you for that groundbreaking insight", I reply.

Lewis shrugs and walks off, dignified as always. That somehow makes it worse.

By the time we sit down for lunch, I'm exhausted from pretending this is entertaining. I sit down with my food and swear to myself I won't ever check social medias again. I am a grown adult, a professional athlete and overall, a man who can have pasta without checking doom-scrolling obsessively.

I've overestimated myself.

Grab my work table, I open YouTube, intent to watch something randomly. Assuming the tablet would be safer since none of my account has been logged in but God, I was so wrong. The homepage loads, thinks for half a second then betrays me completely.

FIA REPORT + BODY LANGUAGE = NORRIS – PIASTRI DECODING.

The thumbnail is my face surrounded with a lot of pink hearts, Oscar looks mildly offended beside me.
"Oh, come on, not this", I mutter, thumb ready to scroll past.

Oscar leans over my shoulder as soon as he hears the sound of my voice. "Nooooo, wait. I want to watch that. It's actually good."

"No, it's not."

"It's educational. I need to learn how to read people". He is far too cheerful for someone whose entire existence is currently a meme.

"I do not need to be educated about my own blinking habit."

Oscar ignores my objection and presses play anyway. The psychologist is in her mid-forty, talking slowly and jotting down all points on the video, like explaining the importance of water to kids. Clips roll as evidence behind her – Monaco, China, Canada and now Hungary. Moments I remember nothing at all.

"Here", she says, pauses the video quickly to show how Oscar shifts his chair slightly to lean in closer, "Notice how Norris adjust his position instantly after."

The video resumes to prove she is right, I follow Oscar's action like the Earth got pulled by the sun. I stare at the screen, still try to save some dignity for myself, "It doesn't mean anything".

Oscar hums next to me, "It kinda does to me".

Comments are filled on my tablet, full of people talking nonsense.

"Are they connected by Bluetooth or Airdrop?"
"No wonder why FIA couldn't find anything, the boys are falling so deep"
"As an experienced mind-reader, I can confirm they are definitely sharing the same nervous system and hiding something"

Oscar scrolls further, fully committed to his newly found game. "Ooooh I like this one". He reads aloud, "You can't fake that kind of synchronization unless you are in love or you have trained together since birth."

"But I am two years older than you, Oscar."

"Exactly, old man", Oscar laughs when he hears my protests. "The world is so funny."

I press my lips together, shoulders shaking, absolutely feel furious as Oscar is taking us as a joke. "I hate all of it, Osc."

"No, you don't", he's already laughing when replying to me, "You just hate it because all of them are correct and you don't want me to know how much adoration you have for me."

I am about to start a verbal fight with him when we got interrupted by the social media manager. She appears like a jump scare from behind us with a phone and a clipboard.
"Quick trend, I need you for 10 minutes, or even less than that."

"Why are we doing trends now? Thought it is Red Bull's thing only?". I ask out of confusion but also feel relief that she came to rescue me. "What do I need to do?"

"Nothing. Just stand right there. Nothing is required do to."

I blink rapidly, try to digest the amount of information I just received. "Just stand here, like for a pose?"

I fold my arms and lean back comfortably, pleased with myself. For once, there's nothing to perform. Just existing and being painfully normal. The social media manager films for a moment, eyes flickering between us and her phone but no comments are made.

"And that's a wrap. Thank you two, enjoy your lunch."

She quickly turns away on her hells, probably going to edit those new sources. I turn to Oscar, eyes bright with smugness all over my face to show him that at least one thing is still normal on track today. "See? Professional driver with professional duty."

He gives me a strange look and starts humming something I can't quite catch. That should have been my warning, really.

Six hours later, the social media manager comes back with phone in her hands. She's beaming and glowing, a smile stretching wide enough to be alarming. She calls out for me. "Seven hundred million views, Lando!"

"Of what? You don't have any footage of me shirtless."

"Better than you being shirtless. I'm talking about the video we did this noon."

Either I have turned into a dinosaur who didn't live in this modern world anymore, or none of this actually makes sense. "But I just stood there?"

"Yes", she says delightedly, "Exactly. Wanna check out my masterpiece?"

The phone is shoved into my hands with a video of me and Oscar standing next to each other. No touching, talking or looking at each other, we just simply stand there. The caption has the biggest Landoscar tag I've ever seen that hurts my eyes.

The comments are worse though. Not only girls but also see some verified accounts with blue checks commented and complimented how cute we are. Cute? No one used that word for me ever since I was 12. And don't get me started on human imagination with endless memes and pictures of us on the comment section. This will absolutely reach drivers group chat tonight and I'll pretend I'm dead.

I clear my throat and hand the phone back to the woman like it's contaminated. "I've been played."

Oscar, traitor as he is, looks pleased with the way knowledge finally comes to me. "You walked right into it."

"I stood", I correct him, "I followed the instruction obediently just to find out I got played."

"And that", Oscar smug, "was your first mistake. Never trust social media team. Learn the lesson from Liam and VCARB always."

For the rest of the afternoon, I am deeply, profoundly annoyed. In my defense, I am not loud or dramatic about it at all, just some long quiet sighs here and there, aggressively scroll my phone, muttered commentary about how none of this would happen if Oscar didn't fuel the fire. Typical princess behavior, if anyone's keeping score.

Oscar lets me sulk for a while, he doesn't say anything and I secretly believe he enjoys seeing me suffer. Then, a while after we're back to the hotel and I've sighed for what must be the thirtieth time, he finally looks at me and says, "You know you have been passive-aggressive to me since lunch, right?"

I open my mouth and ready for an argument but soon realize I have no words to defend myself. Oscar isn't surprised, he just smiles at me, soft and found, then pulls me closer to kiss away all the shimmering anger I've got left.

When the kiss ends, I honestly don't remember why I was so sulky at the first place. All of the annoyance gone in the blink of an eye. But Oscar is still Oscar, and he never lets the problem goes away without knowing the root.

"Why are you so angry about our situation?"

I look away to avoid his intense gaze, drop onto the edge of the bed to put some distance between us before answering the question. "I don't want anyone to know. At least not now."

"I am not ready for a coming-out speech, for consequences our relationship might bring. I don't want people defining us differently because now they find out about our sexuality preference."

Oscar listens like he always does, as if he's memorizing every word I say instead of waiting for his turn. His voice is way calmer than mine, which makes me forever question his mental stability.

"The more you react", he says, "the more they tease you."

I scoff weakly. "So what do I do? Pretend like I don't care?"

"You are horrible at pretending."

Oscar closes the space between us silently and trap me between his arms. He holds my chin and forces me to look at him, starry eyes sparking up my darkest mood. "And if it did get out or if someone asked me outright, I would say have the cutest boyfriend in the whole world."

I am in shock at how this conversation turns to, rapidly use all braincells in my head to catch up with whatever Oscar just said. "Boyfriend? Me? Yours?"

He grins, full and unapologetic while pulling me onto the bed again, "Yeah. I'm pretty sure I'm the only one in your life. Unless you have been hiding something from me but we both know how terrible of a liar you are."

I stare at him in disbelief, the tension in my chest loosens gently. Something warm and adored spread through me, leaving a trail of butterfly behind. But still deep on a princess behavior I've been all day, I mutter under my breath, questioning his word of choice, "You say like it's so obvious."

"It is. Hey Lan, I know you are scared, but I am not. I don't mind being seen, even if it's messy. And I don't care about anything else as long as it's you and me."

That almost undoes me. Holy fuck. I think I'm gonna cry right now in front of my boyfriend. Never been a hopeless romantic and not wanting Oscar to see me as a weak man, I nod once and smiles at him, trying to let all the worries carried away with his words. We stumble on the bed, me wiggling hard and him laughing at my efforts. Oscar pulls out his phone and pats the space beside him.

"TikTok therapy time. Doctor's order."

We scroll together, my head on his chest, his kisses on my hair. We watch endless unhinged edits of ourselves breathing, blinking and apparently existing incorrectly. One video claims we synchronize when we sigh, the other one proves we do everything at the same time.

At some point, Oscar shouts quickly, "Wait". He exaggerates his breathing, deliberately slow then suddenly stops. I stop too.

We look at each other wide eyes, proving that we could be a joke to anyone, including us at this point. I groan and drop my head onto his shoulder, laughing despite everything. "Delete the internet".