#oscar + moths to a flame metaphor my beloved

[pumpkennpie]

for the five-sentence fic game, the most self-indulgent prompt ever:

oscar + moths :3

two of my favorite things!!! i am so sure that this is not at all what you had in mind, so sorry in advance! (however, this did spark something in me and i've already got a new document open to write something.... longer)

Oscar + moths for this five sentence fic game!

Oscar feels like he's spent his whole life running, searching for a light in the night to warm his bones and guide him on his path.

Racing is that light, but he's never quite been able to get his fingers around the handle of the lantern, to carry it by his side and illuminate the way.

It's always been just out of reach, growing tantalizingly closer with every position gained, only to slip out of his grasp with every missed podium.

Even when he makes it to that third step in Japan, and then the second in Qatar, he's still chasing, chasing, chasing.

Until, finally, the light catches him in Hungary.

The nerves he feels standing on the top step of that podium, bathing in the bright Hungarian sun, are not butterflies, but the smooth wing beats of a moth that has finally found its flame.