The sun burns down on the asphalt of Miami and the roar of the engines has faded, but the race still echoes in your mind.

Oscar has won.

Again.

Lando's P2, and even though he set the fastest lap of the race, 1:29.746c he’s probably blaming himself.

Again.

You stand under the massive screen where the interviews are being broadcast.

Oscar is smiling, talking about strategy, teamwork, thanking “everyone at McLaren" as always.

Lando sits next to him.

Silent. Withdrawn.

He’s chewing on his nails, his eyes blank, caught somewhere between frustration and disappointment.

He should have won today.

It was obvious.

His pace, his effort, his determination…it was all there.

You remember his interview from earlier.

“If I don’t go for it, people complain. If I go for it, people complain. I can’t win.”

It wasn’t an outburst.

It wasn’t anger.

It was honest.

McLaren. The team he helped rebuild. Without him, last year’s rise wouldn’t have been possible.

His first win here in Miami, back in 2024, had been his moment.

The start of a new era.

They won the Constructors’ Championship because of him.

And now?

Now it’s all Oscar.

Oscar this, Oscar that.

You shake your head to yourself. It’s not fair. And everyone knows it. ___

Later, when the chaos has quieted down, you’re sitting on the steps outside the McLaren motorhome.

You hear footsteps behind you and turn around.

Lando is walking out of the motorhome. No PR team, no cameras.

Just him.

His eyes find yours and for a moment, he hesitates.

Then he walks straight toward you.

“Hey." He says softly.

His voice is rough, almost broken.

Tired.

Not physically, but somewhere deep inside.

Like someone who’s been overlooked too many times, even while standing in the spotlight.

“Hey…sit down." You say quietly, patting the space beside you on the step.

He doesn’t hesitate.

Lando drops down beside you, stretches out his legs and lets his shoulders fall like he’s breathing out for the first time that day.

For a while, neither of you speaks.

“You know…last year, this was the best day of my life.” His voice is barely a whisper. “I thought it would feel like that again. Maybe even better. But instead…I feel invisible. I…”

He trails off.

You turn your head to him.

“I gave everything." He says. “I helped build that car. I put them in the position they’re in now. But when something goes wrong, I’m the one they blame. And when things go right, Oscar’s the one holding the trophy.”

You can hear the bitterness in his voice.

It’s real. Not envy. Not jealousy.

Just a quiet pain that’s been building for a long time.

“You’re not invisible!" You say gently. “You’re the reason this team is where it is. And anyone who’s really paying attention knows that. I know that.”

Lando takes a deep breath, looks down at his hands, then runs his fingers through his messy curls.

"But it feels like I am…” He murmurs.

You lean into him slightly.

Not much. Just enough.

A quiet I’m here.

Then, after a moment, he speaks up again. “Do you…maybe want to come to my room? Watch a movie or something?”