NOTES: In this chapter, the spotlight is on Lando and Carlos, or rather, here on how Lando intends to try with Carlos. Then in the second part we'll get to the heart of the matter. This time, Max has a special appearance. Enjoy the read.

2. LANDO AND CARLOS - part 1

It could have been a sort of imprinting. Carlos had been his first teammate in F1, and for that reason he'd liked him enough to bond with him. 
But it was also true that he was very funny, witty and charismatic. 
First of all, he was Spaniard and those had something extra. Yes, even South Americans, but the Spaniards in particular. 
They were very fiery and passionate, lovers of physical contact, jokes, games, but above all enjoying life in all its forms and meanings, without limits or restraints. 
They had some things in common, others Lando had absorbed from him. 
He was naturally very cheerful and witty, certainly sociable, but he wasn't particularly "physical" as a person, not particularly affectionate. But with him he had learned to be so, because Carlos had always touched him, hugged him, squeezed him, pinched him, slapped him and filled him with all sorts of jokes. 
He'd never been afraid of physical contact; he'd always laughed at him about everything, and this had infected him, making him appreciate that approach to others, to the point of adopting it himself. 
Physical contact was beautiful, of any kind, with anyone, even, and perhaps especially, those of the same sex. 
In hindsight, Lando understood why he'd liked that way of being, adopting it so easily. 
For him, it wasn't a "way of being," as perhaps it was for Carlos, but rather "being gay." 
But it could be useful, now that he'd learned to do it himself; using frequently physical contact as a means of expressing his character was a good cover for venting his gay side, which he'd discovered a little late, though not so much considering his young age. 
Before, he'd been too focused on racing and getting on F1 to achieve his dream, now that he was there, he could relax and start enjoying the gifts life had given him. 
Finding out he was gay hadn't been a tragedy; a surprise, perhaps, but not a tragedy. 
The real tragedy was discovering he was in love with Charles, who was in love—unknowingly—for Max; probably reciprocated. 
Actually, without the probably. But also unknowingly. 
In any case, he was off limits and there was nothing he could do about it, except find a solution to his own damned problem. 
Namely, distract himself. 
“Charles won't be the only guy on Earth I'll like. I like him now, but if I don't look for anyone else, I won't find anyone who can replace him. It's just a fixation, a passing passion. He turns me on and I'd jump on him, but I can easily look for other guys who can turn me on and who are also willing to let me experiment this newly discovered side of me. I'm gay, I want to try fucking a guy and see what it's like.”
Carlos had simply been the most obvious and predictable choice. 
He was attractive, exciting, brilliant, funny, and he put him at ease. 
He'd never laughed so much with anyone as he did with him. 
“And anyway, we don't have to fall in love or get together, I just need to distract myself and get rid of the thoughts that are currently fixated on Charles. Sooner or later I'll see him as just a friend, the important thing is to distract myself with other people and not keep pining for him like an idiot. That's not like me.” 
He just had to figure out if all that contact he was constantly making with him could lead to something else, but as time went by, he became more and more convinced. 
He couldn't help but have that kind of desire when he touched his ass—or rather, pinched him. Not to mention all the times he'd playfully hit him on the balls, using that excuse to touch them. Sometimes he'd grab his entire dick. 
The first time, he'd taken him by surprise and laughed about it, returning the gesture; then, when he'd realized the whole Charles and homosexuality thing, he'd started to think about it seriously, using this way of playing with Carlos to see how far he could go with him. Was it just a game, or would he really want it? 
In short time, he'd started to get excited in advance, before being groped and teasingly harassed. By the time he met Carlos, he knew they'd grab each other in some indecent way at some point, and he'd ended up being turned on the entire time they were together. Even the mere thought of seeing him turned him on like crazy. 
Lando was aware that Carlos had become an obsession; because he now wanted to fuck a boy, and it wasn't so much about getting Charles out of his head, as it was about experiencing that side of himself that was now a certainty, given how crazy he went at the thought of having a boy lay his hands on him. 
The fact that Carlos was handsome, brilliant and funny, and that he made him laugh out loud, was an important addition. 
"Maybe I could even fall in love, if we could get this thing started. How the hell do I take the decisive step? He teases so much, but never finishes. He never gets beyond the game. Was I wrong? Did I misinterpret?" 
Then he realized he needed advice. 
“Who should I talk to about this? Maybe Alex and George can help me. I've known them for a while, but I think Max is more helpful with this kind of problem. I know he's no saint sexually, that he has fun with whoever he happens to be with and doesn't have any favorite genders. He told me he sleeps with guys every now and then, too; he's very open in that sense. George and Alex are also open. They're not together, but I've always thought they'll be one day. However, I see them slower in this regard, even if they encourage Charles with Max.”
In the end he'd asked Max for advice, feeling more comfortable talking to him about it, even though he'd known him for less time. The instant connection that was created between them was so spontaneous that it pushed Lando to throw himself into that friendship and, subsequently, to refuse to betray him by trying to hit on Charles. 
Nothing had happened yet, but it seemed to him that at a certain point, in the second half of the season, they'd clicked. He wasn't yet bold enough to talk to him about it openly like George and Alex did with Charles—who denied everything anyway, so their conversations were short and pointless—but it seemed to him they were definitely starting to get on the right track. 
Under the pretext of wanting to have fun, he'd invited himself to one of Max's outings, who went to have fun when he won races, taking off all the brakes. 
During one of them, it was easy to ask his impartial opinion on how he thought it was best to hit on a guy without risking being mistreated or causing a mess. All he had to do was drink a little and make sure Max did too.
They weren't so drunk they didn't know what they were saying, but they were relaxed enough to talk about anything.
- Easy. - Max said under the dim lights of the club and with the DJ playing music they were next to, to stay in the safest and most fun part of the place. 
Lando's eyes widened, his second glass of gin and tonic half-empty in his hand. 
- Oh yeah? 
- Yeah! Am I that friend you want to hit on? - as soon as he heard it, Lando's eyes widened so spontaneously, clearly filled with shock, that Max, bursting into laughter, realized he wasn't. 
- No, I'd say not! - he actually answered. Lando flushed as he sucked all the remaining drink that was helping him find the courage to speak in person about certain things he'd never told anyone. 
At the end of the longest suction of his life, he blurted out decisively before losing his nerve: - It’s Carlos! 
And praise the Lord God he hadn't come up with the right name. 
“Great Lando! You managed not to say Charles! I think it would have been a fucking mess! I took a huge risk. Luckily, Carlos puts me in a good mood enough to be a new obsession. Not that Charles has been forgotten, I think I'll always have him in my heart. Oh my God, how I get when I'm drunk.” 
Max didn't flinch, he looked at him, nodding and curling his lips as if it were obvious. 
- It’s simple anyway. - Max then said, finishing his gin and tonic and asking for another from afar at the bartender who was making his acrobatic, watered-down cocktails for the customers. 
- How? - he said, raising his eyebrows without understanding. 
- You take him out for a drink like you did with me, and after a few drinks, you ask him directly. ‘Can I kiss you?’ Start slowly, without overdoing it. You'll immediately know from his reaction whether you can go for it or not. If he refuses or taunts you, you laugh and blame it on the alcohol, tell him that when you drink you become a maniac and not to worry about it. You won't have lost anything. 
Max hadn't flinched when he learned he liked boys, and Lando liked him even more than before, clearly as a friend. Truth be told, he wouldn't have fucked Max, not the way he would have gladly fucked with Charles.
“Not that I'd throw him away, but..." and he got there on the second train. Even the third, maybe. 
- Wait, you thought I was hitting on you? And would you have been up for it?
Max laughed heartily, putting a hand around his shoulders and tightening his grip. 
- For an innocent, one-night stand with absolutely no implications or consequences, why not? You're a good-looking guy, I've fucked worse people. 
He didn't know whether to take it as a compliment. Lando looked at him perplexed, and when the third glass of gin and tonic arrived, he found it comfortable to drink right away. Until his mind clouded even further, making it harder for him to understand. 
- But don't you have a secret passion for Charles?  
And nothing, from his shocked face, Lando understood that he had said too much and was completely wrong to say it. 
- I think you didn't know yet. - he replied out loud, convinced he was just thinking it. 
Seeing his friend's even more shocked expression, he realized he'd been speaking, not thinking, and he bit his mouth. In reaction he drank again, adding fuel to his own fire which completely clouded his ability to think, and especially his ability to filter. 
By the end of the night, he had confessed to Max the theory about him and Charles, blaming it on him, George, and Alex. 
By some other miracle, he managed not to mention that he liked Charles and that Carlos was therefore his brilliant attempt to distract himself from the future boyfriend of a dear friend. 
“If I keep talking, it will never be, my dear friend. Go dance and don't talk anymore!”
With that, he ran away without making any further revelations—having already made enough—glancing anxiously every now and then at Max, standing there with him, the DJ and a few other friends. 
He was shocked and gripped by a full-blown mystical revelation, it was clear even in the dim light and amidst all that chaos, but Lando was careful not to cause any further damage. By then he had already done enough.