#TRACK HEALTH | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

trashytracktales · 7 months ago

Note

Idk if you write about this topics since they are really sensitive, but it is something I’m currently struggling with and I would like to see how lando would react after finding out that the reader has been hiding a her struggle with mental illness and attempts of ending her life. Once again I know how sensitive this request is but I started reading your work and fell in love with it and thought that you would write this beautifully

Seasons change | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── This was a pretty difficult one-shot to write, even though it's not very lengthy. I know that mental health is still a topic of actuality that we all deal with in one way or another. The only thing that I want you guys to remember after reading this, is that you are not alone. I know that it may sound like a broken record, but it's true. Each of us has a Lando in our lives who will care enough to stand by you without ulterior motives or conditions. And if you really feel like you don't, I can be him for you. My DMs and ask box are always open, so don't hesitate to reach out if you need someone. You matter in all your forms 🤍

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

☆ summary ──── He's been away for work for a while now, but when Lando comes home to find his girlfriend at her lowest, they have to learn the hard way that love is about sitting with each other in the dark, not just chasing the light.

☆ pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

☆ rating ──── mature

☆ category ──── F/M

☆ word count ──── 2.6k

☆ date ──── Jan. 11, 2025

☆ warnings ──── 16+, established relationship, soft!Lando, mental health struggles, depression, suicidal ideation, mention of alcohol consumption and pills, emotional distress, vulnerability, guilt and healing, non-sexual nudity (bathtub scene, including tenderness and intimacy).

Please, proceed with caution and prioritize your well-being. If you or someone you know is struggling, these are some of the resources I personally used for years now & I think (and hope) that it might help you at some point:

☆ MENTAL HEALTH APPS

Calm

7 cups

BetterMe

☆ INSTAGRAM ACCOUNTS

idontmind

thefabstory (also an app)

getreformative (currently inactive, but great resources posted there)

talkspace

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

THE APARTMENT IS too quiet tonight. A space that once felt like a sanctuary, now seems to close in on her, the walls pressing closer with each passing hour.

To anyone looking in, her life might appear perfectly ordinary, even enviable. She has a stable job that she loves, a couple of friends who care in their own way, and Lando. Lando, with his boundless energy, his boyish grin, and his unwavering ability to see the good in her even when she struggles to find it in herself. But beneath that polished surface, there’s a darkness she’s been hiding for as long as she can remember.

She’s not really sure when it happened, or what caused her to lose her spark. Most of the times, she thinks that she’s always been like this, but that can’t be right. Although, at this point in time, it went on long enough that she learned to wear masks and mimic people’s gestures. It’s exhausting, but it’s easier than explaining why some days she can barely drag herself out of bed, or why her mind feels like a storm she can’t escape.

Lately, the same storm has been relentless. Lando’s been away for weeks, hopping from one race to another, his life a whirlwind of fast cars, tons of people, and flashing cameras. She’s proud of him, of course, but his absence leaves a void she can’t seem to fill on her own, no matter how many phone calls they share.

She knows it’s not his responsibility to fix her, but without even knowing it, Lando does it every time he looks at her. In those moments, pieces of her heart are welded back together, giving her hope that one day, maybe, it will be whole again.

Of course, things aren’t that easy.

She’s always been a loner, someone who enjoys her own company more than the chaos of others. This is why she doesn’t go with Lando to all of his races. Over time, they’ve developed their own rhythm, and it only works when they both put in the effort to be together. However, she knows that he often works for both of them. She also knows that it’s not right to let him do this, but she doesn’t know how to stop.

But being alone isn’t the same as being lonely, and lately, the loneliness feels like it’s swallowing her whole. She tries to keep busy, to distract herself with work or a new book, but the dark thoughts always find her; a cycle she can’t break. They usually creep in at night when she’s most vulnerable, whispering lies she can’t ignore.

You’re a burden.

He’d be better off without you.

Everyone would be better off without you.

In spite of everything, she knows she’s lucky, though. She has a roof over her head, food on the table, and someone who loves her. And, somehow, knowing that only makes her feel worse. Most of the times, the guilt is suffocating — a heavy weight that presses down on her chest until she can’t breathe. She’s tried to push the thoughts away, to drown them in work or meaningless distractions. She tried to be grateful. But tonight, like many other nights before, they’ve won.

When Lando steps into the apartment, the soft click of the door is echoing in the stillness. It’s late — later than he’d hoped — and he assumes she’s already asleep, because he texted her hours ago to let her know he was on his way, but there had been no reply.

Dropping his bag quietly by the door, he toes off his sneakers and glances toward the dimly lit living room. The faint glow of the city skyline filters through the curtains, casting muted shadows across the floor. He moves carefully, not wanting to wake her, with a simple plan in mind: slip into bed, wrap his arms around his girlfriend, and fall asleep to the steady rhythm of her breathing.

But something feels off.

On his way to the bedroom, he spots the balcony door slightly ajar. A cool breeze sneaks through the crack, carrying with it the faint scent of something acrid. He pauses, his brow furrowing as he approaches the glass door.

That’s when he sees her.

She’s out on the balcony, her back to him, legs dangling dangerously over the edge. For a moment, he’s frozen in place, his mind struggling to process what he’s seeing. Then his gaze shifts, taking in the scene: some things are knocked over on the small table by the door, a small flacon of pills alongside a half-empty bottle of wine, and all the mess. The realization hits him like a physical blow, and his heart starts pounding in his chest.

But then, panic grips him as he slides the door open, stepping out onto the balcony. The sound startles her, and she turns her head slightly, her expression distant and unfocused. Her eyes are red-rimmed, and there’s an eerie calmness about her that chills him to the core.

“Hey, is everything okay?” asks Lando, his voice soft as he crouches beside her, careful not to make any sudden movements. “What… baby, what are you doing out here?”

She doesn’t answer immediately, her gaze drifting back to the city below. The silence stretches, each second feeling heavier than the previous one.

“Talk to me,” he pleads, his voice slightly cracking. His eyes dart back to the table, to the pill bottle and the wine, and he feels a surge of anger mixed with fear. “Is this—fuck. Did you take these?”

She shakes her head, a small smile curving in the corner of her mouth. “I’m so tired, love,” she whispers finally, her voice shaking over the hum of the city.

Her words hit him like a punch in the gut, and he’s suddenly aware of how fragile she looks, and how close she is to the edge. His hands shake as he reaches for her, gently gripping her arm. His heart beats so hard that he feels it throughout his body — his ribcage, in his throat, in the hand he tightens around her, to make sure he’s holding her with enough force.

“Okay. That’s okay,” he says, his tone soft but urgent. “Let’s go inside, yeah? I’m tired too, we can rest together. What do you say?”

“No… no, it’s not—” she tries to speak, but her brain is clouded by a mental fog, and everything around her moves too quickly for her to catch up.

“Come on, can you step back? Please. For me?”

His last question is what jolts her back to reality. For him? She would do anything for him. Lando knows that, and she soon realizes that he is using it to emotionally blackmail her. He always does that, and it annoys her.

She raises her head to look at him, her tired eyes meeting his, and for a moment, Lando thinks she’ll comply. But then, she pushes his hand away, a trace of betrayal crossing his face.

“No. It’s pretty out here,” she says, gazing down at the world that simply exists under her feet. The distance makes her stomach clench, knowing that all it takes it’s a small misstep for everything to end. Still, she doesn’t move an inch.

“I see that, love,” he agrees, “But I want to talk to you, and I can’t do that unless I make sure you’re safe. Did you… do this before?”

She nods slowly, refusing to look at him.

At that, Lando exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, trying to calm the storm in his chest. He knows her enough to know when to push and when to give her space, only this time around, he’s met with a weird combination of both. Luckily, his body decides what to do before his mind agrees to it and, cautiously, he climbs up to join her on the edge, his hands gripping the cold railing as his pulse pounds in his ears.

Her head snaps toward him, her expression instantly shifting, panic flashing in her eyes. “No, what are you doing?” she whispers, her voice cracking.

“I’m with you,” he murmurs, his voice tender, laced with fear he’s desperately trying to hide. “If you’re staying here, then so am I.”

She blinks, her lips parting as if to protest, but no words come. Instead, her gaze softens, the wine-induced haze in her eyes clearing. Slowly, she lets out a shaky breath and sits down on the narrow ledge, her hands gripping the edge. Lando follows her lead, sitting close but careful not to crowd her, his knee brushing hers. He hesitates for a moment before gently reaching for her hand, and he exhales relieved when her fingers close around his, grounding both of them.

They sit in silence for a moment, the distant city lights flickering around them.

“I’ve missed you a lot, you know?” he finally whispers, his voice barely audible, breaking the quiet. “I never… If something happens, I don’t want to have to miss you all the time—”

“Lando, I know,” she cuts him off. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” she continues, staring at their joined hands. Her voice is small, guilt creeping into her tone.

He nods, looking at her, “Whatever it is, you can tell me,” Lando says gently. “I know I’m away a lot, but if you need me, I’ll do anything.”

Her grip on his hand tightens slightly just as she turns to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry,” she repeats, tears pooling but not yet falling. “It’s not your fault, Lan. It’s me. I… don’t even know. There’s nothing wrong, but at the same time, nothing’s quite right, either.”

He shakes his head, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Don’t apologize for feeling. It just makes me think now, because I thought you trusted me,” says Lando, his words cutting through her like a knife through butter. “I trust you,” he adds, almost like pointing it out.

She knows he does, her mind instantly replaying the moments in her head, the times he’d come to her with his struggles. When a race didn’t go his way, and he doubted everything he’d worked so hard for. When social media was brutal, tearing him apart with words that left invisible scars. When he felt hated and couldn’t understand why. He always talked to her, shared his pain, his fears, his insecurities. He let her in, trusted her completely. And now, here she was, shutting him out when he was only trying to do the same for her.

“Don’t say that…” she starts, but her voice catches, and her breath hitches. “I’m trying.”

“I know, baby. I know,” Lando says gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Can we, please, just go inside?”

The tears she’s been holding back for too long finally slip free, carving hot, silent paths down her cheeks. She looks up at him, her lips trembling as she whispers, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

His expression softens, and without hesitation, he lifts her hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles, mostly to show her that she didn’t. The gesture is so simple yet so full of love that it sends a fresh wave of emotion crashing over her.

Lando doesn’t let go of her hand as he gently helps her to her feet, guiding her back inside the apartment. The night air clings to their skin, but it’s the quiet inside that feels even heavier. He doesn’t say much, just keeps her close, his touch steady and grounding as they make their way to the bathroom.

A little uncomfortable now, she leans against the doorframe, watching as Lando moves around, carefully. He runs the water, testing the temperature with his hand, adding just the right amount of bath salts from the container on the shelf. The pale lavender-scented steam begins to fill the space, creating a safe bubble for both of them.

When Lando finally looks back at her, his expression is warm and inviting, somehow hopeful. He steps closer, reaching out to gently cup her cheek, wiping away the tear stains that remain.

“You’re everything to me,” he says softly, his thumb brushing over her skin before his hands move to the hem of her hoodie.

She doesn’t protest as he carefully lifts it over her head, his touch tender, his eyes never leaving hers. For a moment, she stands there, feeling vulnerable under his gaze, but there’s nothing but love in his expression.

Her fingers tremble slightly as she reaches out to return the gesture, undoing the buttons on his shirt one by one. His eyes stay locked on hers, silently reassuring her, grounding her in the best way possible. By the time she pushes the fabric off his shoulders, the weight in her chest feels a little lighter.

They step into the bath together, the warm water enveloping them like a soothing embrace. She settles between his legs, her back against his chest, and his arms come around her instinctively. There’s no rush, no need for words. It’s just them, surrounded by the quiet hum of the water and the soft glow of the candles Lando had lit earlier.

He presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head, his lips lingering for a moment before he rests his chin on her shoulder. “Promise you’ll talk to me next time?” he asks, his voice small but steady. “I know things won’t change overnight, I don’t expect them to. But I need to know you understand that I’m here for you. That I love you enough to listen, and feel everything with you.”

The words settle in her chest, heavy but necessary, like the first raindrops of a storm. For the first time in what feels like forever, she sees beyond the swirling chaos in her mind. The weight of his love and understanding wraps around her like the warmth of the water they’re sitting in. And then it hits her.

How life itself is the changing of seasons, a constant push and pull — a constant chaos. Sometimes, the sun will break through, lighting everything in gold. Other times, it will rain so hard she won’t see the way ahead. But Lando’s right. It will get better again. Then worse. And then better again. That’s the way it is for everyone. A relentless tide of ups and downs, joy and pain, hope and disappointments.

As she leans back into his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart, she realizes the most important thing: it isn’t always black or white. Sometimes, it’s a hazy gray — a space where the lines blur, where the answers aren’t clear, and the path you find yourself on feels impossibly difficult to navigate. But it’s in that in-between, in the murky middle, that having the right person beside you matters the most. Not to pull you into the light or demand you leave the shadows, but to sit with you in the dark, holding your hand, letting you know you’re not alone.

She swallows hard, her throat tight, but not from sadness this time. “I promise,” she finds the strength to whisper. Her breath catches, and she turns her head slightly to meet his gaze, tears still pooling in her eyes. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I—”

“You deserve everything, my love,” Lando assures her, his lips brushing her temple, before placing a tiny kiss there. “And I’ll make sure you get it.”

His definitive tone sends shivers down her spine.

She closes her eyes, feeling the water ripple softly around them, and holds on tighter, knowing that no matter what storms may come, the most important thing is that they won’t lose each other’s touch.

And that’s everything to her.

PREVIOUS LN⁴ ONE-SHOT

MASTERLIST

Thank you for reading!

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668 notes · View notes

trashytracktales · 2 months ago

Note

Heyy there loved your latest post about the reader’s struggle with mental illness and it hit so close to home, you wrote it beautifully. I especially loved how lando mentioned it would be a process to help her heal, because it truly is. It made me want to see a follow up of their lives after her struggles where out, I think Lando would definitely hover over her and be afraid whenever she isn’t close. I also think that the fact that she kept it a secret for so long and the thought of what could’ve happened if he didn’t get there terrify him. How about you write a continuation where he is so intense about it that the reader gets upset and they get into a fight where lando reveals his concerns and how he has been feeling after the revelation and the reader realizes how much this has been affecting him. I would totally understand if you don’t want to continue this fic since the one you wrote was very complete and well written, however I think it would be amazing to show how it feels to love someone that suffers from depression and how painful it is.

Aftermath | LN⁴

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗧 𝟮 𝗢𝗙 𝗦𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗦 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗡𝗚𝗘

*can be read as a standalone, but I reckon it makes more sense if you have some background story

🤍 summary ──── In the messy aftermath, they are forced to realize that healing isn’t about going back to who they were.

🤍 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

🤍 rating ──── mature

🤍 word count ──── 3.5k

🤍 warnings ──── 16+, heavy angst, emotional distress, references to self-harm and feelings of worthlessness, mentions of guilt, codependency, and emotional burnout, swearing, sexual references, depiction of a supportive but emotionally intense relationship dynamic, comfort after pain.

Please prioritize your well-being while reading, my lovelies. If you click on the link to SEASONS CHANGE, you’ll find at the warnings section some (I’d like to think) useful resources.

🤍 date ──── Jun. 3, 2025

🤍 a/n ──── Listen. In theory, I don’t do part 2s. But clearly, I love emotionally wrecking myself (and all of you), so here we are. Please take this as a gentle threat and not an invitation to request multiple parts, because if it tickles my brain even slightly, I will spiral (and write it when you least expect it).

I am once again begging you on my knees to check this song out after finishing reading (not because ATL is one of my favorite bands, pfff 👀). But it brings me to actual tears has such good metaphors + it fits sooooo well from Lando’s POV ♥︎

SHE KNEW LANDO would change after what happened. She expected him to, but only to a certain extent. What she didn’t see coming was how incredibly fast he did it.

She noticed it in the smallest things at first. Like the way he asked her if she’s eaten, not like he used to, with a teasing grin and a slight suggestion to order takeout, but like he was checking a box on a list; like there was a right and wrong answer.

His kisses didn’t taste the same. He held her hand, brushed the hair behind her ear, and each move, without a doubt, was carefully measured.

Lando used to be spontaneous and loud around her, messy in a way she loved. Watching him was her favorite pastime, no matter what he was doing. Sometimes his socks weren’t matching, his texts were full of typos, and he used to laugh at her in the sweetest manner if her hair looked funny after napping or her shirts were stained with coffee or make-up.

Now, he’s precise. Hesitant. Clean and controlled. His texts look edited, manicured and made to reach a level of seriousness so uncharacteristic of him. He walks on eggshells around her, like any sudden movement might crack her open and reveal her darkest parts. He feels like someone who read an article on How to Support Your Mentally Ill Partner and took it to heart.

It simply breaks her.

Her new Lando opens doors, gently asks how she slept, brings her tea when she looks tired. Candies when she’s pissed off for whatever reason. He gives her space when she seems out of place and asks if she wants to talk when her voice is too quiet.

He was doing those things before, but now every action holds a different meaning. She knows it should make her feel cared for, but all it does is make her feel guilty.

Ashamed.

High maintenance.

The worst part is that she is aware that Lando is trying. She knows he’s doing it because he loves her. Because he’s worried. Because he’s new to this. Because he doesn’t want to take a step in the wrong direction.

But watching him tiptoe around her like she’s fragile doesn’t make her feel loved. Quite the opposite. It makes her feel like a burden, and it makes her want to scream. In his face. Loudly. With a megaphone, perhaps, to make sure he hears her loud and clear.

All she wants is for things to go back to normal — their normal. But every thoughtful gesture and every careful word is a reminder that they can’t go back there anymore. That she changed things. That she made him this way. And sadly, she doesn’t know how to tell him that his kindness is hurting her and all his trying is making her feel more alone than ever.

She catches Lando looking over his shoulder with pity.

She feels it in the way he touches her with more intent when he holds her hand, in how his fingers tighten ever so slightly when they intertwine.

She notices it in the way he hesitates before leaving, before heading to the airport and she’s not with him.

Her boyfriend is no longer the carefree, easygoing person she fell in love with. He’s tense, always on edge, always watching. He doesn’t sleep properly, doesn’t laugh the same way, as if there’s something stopping him.

It’s her that’s stopping him.

At least, that’s what the voice inside her head tells her.

She never wanted that. Never wanted him to lose himself in the mess of her mind, where things are rarely quiet. Lando is supposed to be the one and only thing in her life untouched by her ugly side, the one place where she doesn’t feel like she needs to pretend.

It makes her sick that every time she looks at him, she sees how much he’s carrying, and how much of her weight has settled onto his shoulders. It isn’t fair, and it makes everything worse than before.

Their night out was supposed to be a break from everything. An enjoyable excuse to forget about everything that happened, and just let go. That’s what she had told herself when she agreed to go out with their friends. It was supposed to be normal. Just a couple of drinks, a lot of laughter, a few hours where she could trick herself into believing that their lives are this perfect all the time.

She had wanted to see Lando relax, even just for a little while. But he hadn’t.

Instead, he had spent the entire night guarded. Not in the way he used to when they were going out, stealing glances across the room, his eyes lighting up when she caught him staring. This time, he had been tracking her, every movement, every shift in her expression, every time she excused herself from the table, and every sip of alcohol. It made her want to scream right there, in the middle of the crowded bar.

So, they left early.

Back at their apartment, the silence is deafening.

She follows him into the bedroom, their movements mechanical, as they start to change. Lando pulls his sweater over his head, tossing it onto the bed at the same time she unzips her dress, the fabric slipping off her shoulders, pooling at her feet.

“All good?” he asks in the same careful tone she’s already used to; the same tone she hates.

She nods, even though he’s not looking at her yet. “Yeah. You?”

The dry exchange of words makes her cringe. It’s like they don’t even know how to talk to each other anymore.

“‘Course. Why wouldn’t I?” he tries to shoot her a smile over his shoulder, but it’s weak and she doesn’t buy it.

“Maybe because you looked like you were being held hostage most of the night,” she shrugs.

Lando chuckles, “Was I?”

“I don’t know,” the girl replies. “You didn’t look like you were having fun. You had that face on, you know? The same one you’ve been wearing a lot lately,” her voice is laced with sarcasm, but there’s a sharp edge underneath, and he knows it’s meant to cut deeper than the surface.

Lando’s smile fades away as he exhales through his nose, clearly fighting his inner demons to keep his tone level.

“Well, I was having fun,” he insists, finally turning around. “It was nice to just be out with everyone for a while. With you.”

“You sure?” she shakes hear head in disbelief, her eyes wide. “Because it felt more like you were trying to monitor me than actually enjoy yourself. It’s suffocating,” the words are harsh, but she can’t stop them from leaving her mouth in a frustrated manner. More than that, she doesn’t even want to.

Lando’s hands pause at the hem of his shirt that he wore underneath, “What?”

Irritated, she runs a hand through her hair, while struggling to get her shoes off. “You haven’t stopped looking at me like...,” her voice trails off for a quick moment. “It’s like you’re always one step away from putting a leash around my neck. It’s suffocating,” she repeats.

His expression doesn’t change, but Lando looks genuinely curious when he asks, “Can you blame me?”

She laughs, but there’s no humor behind it. “No. I am blaming myself,” she admits it out loud.

Lando finally gets rid of his shirt, throwing it next to his hoodie while keeping his gaze on her, and all she can see behind his eyes is more fucking pity. So, she closes hers for a second, channeling every ounce of patience that’s left inside.

“I just wanted one night where I didn’t feel like some soft thing that you have to take care of.”

“I’m your boyfriend. I signed up to take care of you, and I love doing it,” he reminds her like it’s the most obvious thing.

She exhales slowly. “I’m better, Lando. I told you I am.”

Lando nods, unconvinced. “Clearly,” he says, slightly annoyed. “You promised you’ll talk to me,” he points out, “But then you started acting like nothing ever happened. Excuse me for being vigilant.”

His affirmation hits her like a slap.

Vigilant. Adjective. Carefully observant or attentive; on the lookout for possible danger.

She swallows, forcing herself to meet his gaze once again. “Yes, because I’m a ticking bomb that can go off at any moment, aren’t I?” her voice is cracking towards the end, tears flooding her eyes.

“Come on, baby. No, I didn’t mean it like that,” he insists. “Wasn’t I clear when I told you I’m all in? All I asked—”

She shakes her head, throwing the shoes on the floor, cutting him off in the process. “I am asking you to stop. I know you want to help, and I appreciate you for it. But right now, I just want to go on with our lives, and forget for just a couple of hours how extremely fucked up in the head I am. I never wanted you to change for me.”

“Yeah, but I had to!” his voice rises, irritation boiling over. “You think I can just go back to who I was, knowing what I know now? I can’t allow myself to be that blind again and just act like nothing happened. Baby, I can’t,” he says, pressing his hands together in a desperate gesture, as if he’s praying. “I won’t.”

Her jaw clenches. “It’s fucking bullshit. We were good before all this.”

“No,” Lando contradicts her. “I was good, because I had no idea you were at your lowest point, until I found you on that balcony. I was good,” he repeats, pointing at himself. “You were struggling. With me next to you, you were struggling. Do you understand how fucked up that is?”

The silence between them stretches for too long, and they both know that is about to snap at any moment. She can’t say anything right away, though. Can’t even look at him without bursting into tears.

“I get it,” she hears him speak again. “You didn’t want to worry me with all the stuff I have going on at the moment. Fine. But do you know what that feels like? To know you were falling apart and I didn’t even notice?” asks Lando, his own voice cracking now. “I feel like a fucking idiot.”

“This isn’t about you,” she points out, finally looking back at him.

“It is,” Lando contradicts her.

Her mouth opens at his audacity, but he keeps going, words tumbling out too fast for her to put an end to it.

“Because whenever I struggled, you were there. Every time I felt lost or panicked or like I couldn’t breathe, you stayed and made sure I was cared for. You always stayed,” he reminds her, his chest rising and falling quickly. “And when it was you? You hid it from me. You smiled through it. You lied to my face.”

His accusations makes her feel like a fraud. Like everything they built over time is cracked because of her silence.

She trusts him more than anyone. But somehow, the way it all played out, it doesn’t look like trust. It looks like deceit. Like fear. And that’s the part that stings the most: the idea that he might believe she didn’t let him in because he wasn’t enough, when the truth is she didn’t let him in because she was afraid she wasn’t.

And that’s what fear does to people: forces them to shut down. Isolates them.

“I never lied to you, Lando,” she says it more like a warning, stepping forward now, eyes wide and filled with unshed tears.

“You never told the truth, either.”

Suddenly, every bone in her body softens. They’re both half-naked, standing in the fragile quiet of the bedroom, the air thick with his dizzying scent and her sweet perfume.

Lando brushes a strand of hair from her cheek, his touch gentle. She leans into it without thinking, and his palm, broad and warm, cradles the side of her face lovingly.

“You were fighting for your life, and I was out there talking about work and planning stupid trips,” his words drip now like honey, unrushed yet accusing. “That’s on me. My fault.”

She shakes her head vehemently, “Baby, stop saying that,” she whispers, but Lando doesn’t stop.

“I missed it,” he continues, as if he’s mostly talking to himself. “You were right in front of me and I didn’t see you. What kind of person does that make me?”

“The kind who couldn’t have known, because I didn’t let you,” she replies without hesitation, taking a small step back.

“Yeah, because you’re so smart, is that it?”

“Lando,” she warns him, but he doesn’t seem to want to listen to her nonsense anymore.

He turns away at her subtle attempt to put distance between them, pacing toward the window and gripping the back of a chair like it might keep him steady.

“I don’t know how to fix it,” he admits, and it almost makes him laugh; the man who thought that he can do anything, has no idea how to save the only thing that matters most. “I don’t know how to stop feeling like if I look away for one second, I might lose you for good,” his voice has a different inflection, caught between defeat and the irrational urge to beg her to never leave him.

She can see how much he’s struggling to make her listen to his side, and even though she acknowledges it, she can’t accept it without denying hers.

Slowly, she walks to him and wraps her arms around his waist from behind, pressing her cheek against the heated skin of his back. He’s warm and solid under her touch, and it makes her feel so safe. She closes her eyes, holding him tighter, like if she stays there long enough, she can absorb some of the ache he’s been carrying solely because she threw it at him in a moment of weakness.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, but isn’t sure what she’s sorry for at this point.

Lando turns around to face her, and the look in his eyes scares her now; it’s too raw, too painful. “You think I have a choice?” asks Lando, his breathing ragged. “I wake up every day wondering if you’ll ever going to let me in again. And I walk through the door every time wondering if you’ll still be here when I come back.”

Even in the dim light of the room, she can see how his eyes are now sparkling with tears; another dagger to her heart.

She sighs, knowing this is her only chance to make him understand. “I love you,” she says, the affirmation forcing Lando to look away and shake his head, knowing love won’t help this time. “But this isn’t helping me, Lando,” she cups his chin, redirecting his focus back on her. “And if I’m being honest, it’s making it worse.”

Lando exhales sharply, dragging a hand over his face. “Alright. Good. Then what do you want me to do? Because I sure as hell won’t pretend I’m not fucking terrified all the time. Or is that what you want?”

“For fuck’s sake, Lando!” the word bursts out of her before she can stop it. “Yes! If you have it in you, lie to me. Pretend. Because every time I see you like this, it just reminds me of why. And I hate it. I hate that I did this to you. You fucking pity me,” she accuses him with disgust in her voice. “You treat me like I’m a child. You don’t act the same way. You don’t laugh anymore. You don’t even kiss me like you used to. And you sure as hell don’t fuck me the same way either.”

The words hang in the air like a bullet caught in slow-motion, and he freezes. She wants to push him away, but Lando wraps his arms around her waist, making sure she’s not running anywhere now that she dropped so many bombs on him.

His face twists in hurt and anger, disbelief flickering all at once. “You think this is about pity?”

The girl nods once, but determined. “I feel like I’m not your girlfriend anymore. Like all of this has become just an obligation to you.”

His arms tighten harder around her. “Yeah? You think I don’t want you?” he spits the words, incredulous. “That I don’t crave you all the fucking time?”

She has to swallow the lump in her throat before shooting her response at him, but Lando beats her to it. His jaw clenches against the side of her face, and for a second, he just breathes her in. Then he presses his lips to her cheek, and when he finally speaks, his voice is low enough to send shivers down her spine, blistering with certainty.

“Don’t you ever say that again,” he warns her. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything. You have no idea what you do to me. Even now.”

She tries her best to win her right to conversation once again, but it’s like he’s casting spells, and his despair never sounded more beautiful.

“I’ll kiss you until there’s no air left in your lungs. Until you forget every single voice in your pretty head that ever made you doubt yourself,” he says it with enough confidence that it actually makes her believe him this time. “And if that’s what you need, I’ll fuck every insecurity out of you. Repeatedly, until you’ll beg me to stop. Do you understand?” his last question sounds so melodic in her ears, and all she can do for now is simply nod, lips slightly parted and palms traveling up his flexed muscles until they end up around his neck.

She pulls him in, and the second their lips meet, everything else is put in time-out. The kiss is tender, sweet, a little hesitant even. It’s not rushed or rough; it’s the kind of kiss that says I know you see me, I see you too.

By the time she pulls back, her lungs are indeed burning, and his forehead rests against her, breathless, with the ghost of his mouth still lingering on hers.

Then, as if there’s someone out there that could hear them right now, Lando speaks in a whispered voice, “I watched you sit on the edge of the balcony and I didn’t know if I’d be fast enough. That was my first thought, and then my mind went blank.”

She’s breathing hard now, so is he. But not because of the kiss anymore. It’s the weight of reality that makes them both stop and realize the gravity of the situation.

“I’m so sorry, Lan,” she whispers back.

“I lose sleep because I’m having nightmares about it,” the knife keep twisting, putting hole after hole in her heart. “I don’t fucking pity you,” says Lando matter-of-factlty. “I love you. But I am scared. That’s it.”

That’s it. The simplest way to put it.

“So stop trying to push me away,” he continues, his eyes locking onto hers with intent. “I told you then, and I am telling you now: I’m not leaving. I don’t care if we have to figure out a whole new way to be together, or if we have to relearn how to do this.”

She exhales slowly, the kind of sigh that carries months of silence and years of ache. Her eyes hold his, glassy with tears, as if she’s still trying to catch up with the weight of everything he’s just said. Every word he’s poured out tonight folds into her chest, and only once it settles does she speak.

“I know that most of the time it doesn’t look like it, but I am trying,” she says. “Even when my own mind tries to convince me it’s not worth it,” her fingers graze his jaw, tentative, like she’s afraid she doesn’t deserve the contact. “I can’t promise I won’t fall back into it sometimes, you know that. But I can promise I won’t let it win. Not like that. Because you mean more to me. Always.”

For the first time since they got back, she sees an authentic smile on his face. It’s small, but it’s there, and it gives her all the strength to continue.

“Like, promise-promise, pinky promise?” asks Lando, tilting his head, searching her face. He sounds like a little boy asking for reassurance in a world too big. It makes her want to cry and laugh all at once.

Instead, she lifts her pinky between them.

Without hesitation, Lando hooks it with hers like it’s a contract written in unicorn blood and stardust and glitter. And then, without warning, he grabs her by the waist and lifts her off the ground, making her yelp before he drops her gently onto the bed, her laughter breathless and real for the first time in what feels like forever.

He hovers over her, curls falling into his eyes, the smallest grin playing at his lips; there’s so much love behind his piercing gaze.

He kisses her then.

And she lets him in, again and again, even though they know it isn’t over. Not even close.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

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