‧₊ ᨳଓRORY ⋆.˚

He tastes like mint and something warm. Something Max.

You sigh into the kiss. Whisper something soft. Something automatic.

“Amilian . . . ”

His lips pause against yours. He hums low in his throat — not upset, not angry — but it’s a sound. A sound that says no.

His brows furrow. Just a little. Just enough for you to feel it when he kisses you again — slow and deliberate, like he’s trying to rewrite your muscle memory.

You blink, lips still ghosting over his, caught between apology and amusement.

“Emilian,” you whisper again, a smile tugging at your mouth, teasing and tender. “Max Emilian.”

He breathes out like that’s what he was waiting for.

“Better,” he whispers, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek, curling it behind your ear with the softest touch.

Your fingers tighten at the back of his neck. He leans back in, eyes half-lidded, already chasing the next kiss.And this time, there’s no mistake. This time, it’s all him.

You didn’t even try to hide the little smile tugging at your mouth as you said it. Honestly, Lando made it too easy. He’d been teasing you all week—stealing bites of your food, poking your sides when you least expected it, whispering stupid jokes into your neck just to hear you laugh. And yeah, you loved him. Fully, stupidly, pathetically loved him. Which is exactly why messing with him was so much fun.

So you decided to pull your favourite kind of prank—jealousy. Harmless, tiny, playful jealousy. Nothing cruel, just enough to watch him short-circuit and do that pouty, wide-eyed thing that made you want to kiss him senseless every damn time.

You’d learned long ago that Lando Norris in love was adorable . . . But Lando Norris possessive? God, he was entertainment.

So yeah. You dropped a fake name. 

". . . What did you just call me?”

You didn’t even look up from your phone. Just hummed, casual as ever. “My water, please.”

“No, no—before that.”

“Before what?” You lifted your brows, all innocent, all wide-eyed sunshine.

Lando narrowed his eyes so slowly you almost saw the jealousy spool behind them like a fuse catching flame. “Did you just call me Leonard?”

You bit back your smile. “Oh. Huh. Did I?”

His jaw dropped. Hands on his hips. Full dramatic flare. “Yes. Yes, you did! Who the hell is Leonard?”

You snorted, finally glancing up at him. “Relax, it was just a slip—”

“A slip??” His voice pitched, cracking like he was going through puberty again. “How does someone slip into a whole different man’s name? How many syllables does that slip have? Leonard isn’t even close to Lando!”

“They both start with an L and have an N in it,” You shrugged, leaning back against the couch, crossing your legs real slow just to watch the way his eyes narrowed even more. “I guess . . .  I’ve just been talking to him a lot lately.”

Lando looked like you’d stabbed him. Emotionally. Fatally.

“Talking to him? Talking to who?” He took a step closer, then another, then stopped like he was afraid to hear the answer. “Are you . . .  seeing someone?”

You let the beat hang. Just a second too long. Long enough to watch him crumble a little.

“Maybe.”

He ran a hand through his curls, muttering something that sounded vaguely like a prayer—or a threat toward any man named Leonard within a hundred-kilometer radius. “You can’t just— you can’t just tell me something like that while I’m handing you water!”

You took the glass from him, brushing his fingers on purpose. “Why not?”

He blinked so hard you swore his eyelashes snapped. “Because—I—because—”

“Use your words, sweet boy.”

His breath stuttered. You watched the realization settle over him in slow-motion—oh. He cared. Way more than he meant to. And he was trying so damn hard not to show it, shifting his weight like a jealous cat caught in the act.

“Who is he?” he finally asked, voice softer now. Not angry. Not loud. Just quiet, controlled, the way jealousy turns once it sinks deeper than pride. “Is he . . .  are you . . . ?”

You sipped the water, keeping your face maddeningly neutral. “He’s nice.”

Lando scoffed. Scoffed. “Oh, great. He’s nice. Fantastic. Love that for me.”

“You?”

He flinched. “For— for the situation! Not me personally. I’m fine. I’m totally—”

You let your phone slip from your hand onto the couch and tilted your head, studying him. “You’re jealous.”

He crossed his arms instantly. “No. No, I’m not.”

“Mhm.”

“I’m not.” Another crack in his voice. “I just—I don’t like— I don’t—”

“Lando.”

He shut his mouth. Lips pressed thin.

You leaned forward, elbows on your knees, voice dropping just enough to make his breath catch. “Do you want me to stop talking to him?”

His throat bobbed. “I . . .  don’t know.”

“Yeah, you do.”

A beat. Two. Then softly, barely audible:

“Yes.”

You stood up, letting him watch every step you took as you walked toward him. He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just stared like your gravity was dragging him in.

You placed a hand on his jaw, warm and easy. “Then ask me.”

His eyes flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes, uncertainty and want tangled together. “Ask . . . ?”

You nodded.

He exhaled a shaky laugh. “You’re messing with my head.”

“Very much so.”

He swallowed. Then, even quieter:

“Please . . .  stop talking to him.”

You smiled, finally letting the punchline land.

“Gladly.” You tapped his cheek. “Considering he doesn’t exist.”

The silence after that was electric.

Lando blinked.

Once. Twice.

“You’re kidding.” He shoved your shoulder, scandalized. “You’re actually—no, you’re evil. You’re deranged. You can’t do that to someone you—”

“Someone I what?” You teased, tilting your head.

He spluttered. “Respect! I was gonna say respect!”

“Mhm.”

“Don’t— don’t say ‘mhm’ like that. You nearly killed me.” He dragged a hand down his face, pacing a tiny, frustrated circle. “Leonard? Leonard?? That’s such a threatening name!”

You bit your lip to hide your grin. “You’re cute when you’re jealous. It’s just a German name, Lanny,”

He stopped pacing, looking at you, looking at your mouth.

And with a soft, breathless laugh, he stepped in close—closer than before, closer than friends should stand unless they’re both pretending they don’t know what they’re doing.

“Next time,” he murmured, gaze dipping to your lips again, “call me mine instead.”

You arched a brow. “You’re bold today.”

“You messed with my sanity,” he said, voice warm, low, entirely undone. “I think I earned it.”

You reached up, brushing your fingers through his curls, watching him melt just like he always did for you. “. . . Nahhhhhhh.”