lando: thanks for the support during this difficult time → ameliedayman: thoughts and prayers → papayagirl: THEY'RE SO STUPID 😭 → loveroflan: perfect couple actually

maxverstappen1: same → ameliedayman: especially same → orangeera: employment circle president and vice president 😭 → paddockvibes: support group formed

jadenhossler: thoughts with the circle 🙏 → ameliedayman: thank you for your service → lanmeliehub: why are they acting like this 😭 → loveroflan: memorial service incoming

papayagirl: PHOTO 1 HELLO??? → loveroflan: casually dropped boyfriend content

charles_leclerc: thanks → ameliedayman: you're welcome → monacofan: charles catching strays on his own balcony 😭 → racegirlie: included in the unemployment statistics

georgerussell63: tragic scenes → ameliedayman: devastating → dreamygirlie: they're treating this like a national emergency 😭

flo_norris_showjumping: photo 1 🥹🤍 → ameliedayman: boat survived → flo_norris_showjumping: unlike the employment circle → papayastan: FLO 😭

ciscanorris1: the helmet photo!! → ameliedayman: artist at work → sunsetamelie: the sisters always being wholesome 😭 → goldenhouramelie: i love them

oscarpiastri: employment circle is crazy → ameliedayman: accurate though

maxfewtrell: have you considered getting better employees → ameliedayman: no → raceweekendd: FRIENDSHIP VIOLENCE 😭 → moonlightvibes: HR nightmare

lnfour: our client remains employed thankfully → ameliedayman: for now → paddockangel: HELP 😭

ameliecore: "employment circle" is actually the funniest way to describe them 😭 → goldenhouramelie: not a single successful employee → softamelie: collective failure

fanameliee: charles' friend smiling from the balcony is killing me 😭 → cherryvibes: bro just happy to be included

alex_albon: i had a great weekend personally → ameliedayman: blocked → papayagirl: GEORGE 😭 → loveroflan: read the room

sunsetamelie: not her posting charles' balcony after he dnf'd too 😭 → goldenhouramelie: nobody was safe → softclouds: equal opportunity victim

f1fairytale: photo 1 and photo 7 are giving girlfriend of a racing driver unfortunately 😭

carlossainz55: i escaped the post → ameliedayman: barely → orangeera: carlos checking attendance 😭 → paddockvibes: survivor

midnightamelie: she really spent all weekend supporting three different men just for all of them to disappoint her 😭 → velvetroses: exhausting honestly → starrylan: overtime with no reward

coastalgirlie: the fact that max, charles and lando all got grouped together as "employment circle" 😭

hannahmeloche: employment circle is taking me OUT 😭 → ameliedayman: i'm suffering → dreamygirlie: best caption ever

papayastan: i know she typed that caption and laughed at herself for 10 minutes 😭 → orangeera: absolutely → paddockvibes: nobody was stopping her

stelladayman: i personally had a wonderful weekend → ameliedayman: congratulations

racegirlie: "terrible weekend for my employment circle" meanwhile she's posting aesthetic yacht photos 😭 → monacofan: suffering but make it pinterest → sunsetracing: influencer first

formulaheart: the bejeweled helmet photo is actually gorgeous

goldenpapaya: lando dnf, max dnf, charles dnf and somehow amelie is the funniest victim 😭 → cherrysoda: collateral damage → lanmeliefever: she deserves compensation

schecoperez: have they tried driving faster → ameliedayman: groundbreaking idea → orangeera: checo choosing violence 😭 → paddockvibes: consultant era

jackdayman: employment circle is crazy work → ameliedayman: i'm a victim → dreamygirlie: sibling support at its finest 😭

softamelie: imagine explaining "employment circle" to someone who doesn't follow f1 😭 → goldenhouramelie: impossible task

quadrant: employment circle merch when? → ameliedayman: soon → paddockangel: i'd buy it

monacogirl: all three of her favorite drivers had a nightmare weekend and she still managed to make a funny post 😭 → racegirlie: resilience → papayastan: queen behavior

fanpageamelie: the way the first photo is boyfriend, second photo is boyfriend's car, sixth photo is boyfriend's helmet 😭 → loveroflan: subtle as always → lanmeliehub: incredibly discreet 😭

--------------

The yacht cut smoothly through the water as Monaco slowly grew larger in the distance.

For the last few days, the open sea had become its own little world, disconnected from race weekends, filming schedules, interviews, flights, obligations, and everything else that usually dictated the rhythm of their lives. Out here there had only been sunshine, endless water, late breakfasts, afternoons spent swimming, evenings watching the harbor lights from the deck, and the luxury of pretending that neither of them had anywhere else they needed to be.

Unfortunately, reality was getting closer with every passing minute.

The outline of Monaco was becoming clearer now, buildings gradually replacing the endless stretch of blue that had surrounded them for days. The yacht moved steadily toward the harbor, cutting through calm water beneath a cloudless sky while the afternoon sun reflected off the waves in scattered flashes of gold.

On the upper deck, however, neither of them seemed particularly interested in looking toward shore.

Lando was stretched comfortably across one of the sunbeds, one arm wrapped around Amelie's shoulders while she rested tucked against his side. Her legs were draped over his, one hand absentmindedly playing with one of Charlie's toys while the puppy remained convinced fetch was the most important activity currently happening aboard the yacht.

Charlie crouched several feet away, tail wagging furiously while staring at the toy in her hand with complete focus.

The concentration would've been impressive if he hadn't looked so ridiculous.

—You're making him work for it,— Lando observed.

Amelie looked entirely unapologetic.

—Character building,— she replied.

The puppy immediately barked once in protest, clearly convinced that character building was a scam invented by humans specifically to inconvenience him.

Amelie laughed and dangled the toy a little higher.

Charlie bounced forward instinctively, front paws lifting off the deck while his tail moved fast enough to qualify as a small natural disaster. The sight was ridiculous enough that both of them immediately started laughing.

—Look at him,— Lando said, shaking his head fondly. —He's acting like you've got the last toy on Earth.—

—Because he's dramatic,— Amelie replied.

—That's rich coming from you.—

Amelie gasped in mock offense.

The reaction earned another laugh from Lando while Charlie continued staring at the toy with the intensity of an athlete preparing for an Olympic final. For several seconds Amelie kept moving it just enough to keep him interested before finally relenting and throwing it toward the opposite side of the deck.

The toy bounced once.

Charlie launched after it immediately.

The puppy disappeared across the yacht at full speed, nails clicking against the deck while he chased his prize with complete dedication.

For the first time in nearly ten minutes, neither of them had a furry third wheel wedged between them.

The silence that followed settled comfortably around them.

The ocean stretched endlessly beyond the yacht while Monaco continued growing larger ahead. The harbor was visible now, the familiar outline becoming clearer every minute, and somehow that made the afternoon feel shorter than it already had.

Lando's arm remained wrapped around her shoulders, his fingers absentmindedly tracing slow patterns against her upper arm while they watched Charlie sprint around the deck in pursuit of his toy. The puppy was fully committed to the mission, occasionally sliding slightly on the polished surface before correcting himself and continuing his chase with renewed determination.

For a few moments neither of them spoke.

The wind moved softly through Amelie's hair while the yacht cut steadily through the water, carrying them closer and closer toward the reality waiting at the dock. The last few days had passed far too quickly. Somewhere between lazy breakfasts, swimming until sunset, falling asleep tangled together beneath blankets on the upper deck, and pretending their phones didn't exist, time had quietly disappeared.

The silence lingered comfortably between them while Charlie finally reached the toy and proudly grabbed it between his teeth like he'd just completed the most important mission of his life.

Lando watched the puppy for a moment, smiling softly as Charlie immediately turned around and started sprinting back toward them with the determination of an athlete carrying an Olympic torch. The toy bounced against his muzzle every few steps, but somehow that only seemed to make him run faster.

The puppy finally reached them a few seconds later, dropping the toy proudly at Amelie's feet before immediately looking up with the expectant expression of someone who believed he deserved a standing ovation.

Amelie laughed softly and reached down to scratch behind his ears while Charlie leaned into the attention with shameless enthusiasm. The movement pulled her slightly away from Lando's side, but only for a moment before she settled back against him again automatically, her shoulder fitting beneath his arm like it belonged there.

Charlie seemed satisfied by the successful completion of his mission.

At least temporarily.

The puppy grabbed the toy again and trotted toward the opposite side of the deck, apparently deciding he could entertain himself for a few minutes before demanding another game.

The moment he disappeared, the upper deck grew noticeably quieter.

Only the sound of the ocean remained.

The distant hum of the yacht's engines vibrated softly beneath them while Monaco continued approaching in the distance. The harbor looked much closer now than it had half an hour ago, the buildings gradually growing larger against the horizon. Every minute seemed to erase another piece of the illusion that they'd somehow escaped real life for a while.

Amelie watched Charlie disappear toward the front of the yacht.

Lando watched her.

It took several seconds before she felt it.

The familiar weight of his gaze settled against the side of her face long enough that eventually she turned her head slightly, immediately finding him already looking at her.

His expression was soft.

Too soft.

The kind of expression that immediately made her suspicious.

—What?— she asked.

Lando didn't answer right away.

His hand remained resting against her arm while the wind moved gently through her hair. For a moment he simply looked at her, like he was trying to memorize something.

For a moment he simply looked at her, like he was trying to memorize something.

The way the sunlight caught the edges of her hair. The way her legs were tangled carelessly with his across the sunbed. The tiny crease between her eyebrows that always appeared whenever she thought somebody was about to say something emotional. Every detail felt sharper somehow, probably because he knew exactly what was waiting for them in a few hours.

Lando's thumb brushed slowly against her arm while he continued looking at her for another second, and that alone was enough to make Amelie's suspicion deepen.

The expression on his face wasn't dramatic. It wasn't the look of somebody about to start a serious conversation. Somehow that made it worse. It was softer than that. Quieter. The kind of expression that only appeared when he was feeling something he hadn't quite figured out how to say yet.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

—I'm gonna miss you so much,— he admitted finally.

The words landed gently.

Unfortunately, they landed directly on the one topic Amelie had spent the entire morning aggressively avoiding.

Her reaction was immediate.

—Nope,— she said, lifting a hand toward his face before he could continue. —We're not doing this.—

Lando blinked.

Amelie pointed at him accusingly.

—Don't start getting emotional right now.—

His smile widened slightly.

—I literally just said I'm going to miss my girlfriend.—

—Exactly,— she replied immediately. —That's how it starts.—

The certainty in her voice made him laugh.

Unfortunately for her, the laugh only made the lump already forming in her throat feel worse.

For the entire morning she had successfully avoided thinking about what happened after they docked. She had focused on Charlie. On breakfast. On packing. On making fun of Lando's inability to fold clothing properly. On absolutely anything except the fact that in a few hours she would be boarding a flight to Mexico before continuing on to Vancouver while he flew to Barcelona for another race weekend.

Thinking about it hadn't seemed productive.

Now he had ruined that strategy in approximately four words.

Amelie immediately covered part of her face with both hands.

—Lando,— she groaned.

The protest came out muffled against her palms, but it didn't hide the way her voice cracked halfway through his name. That alone was enough for Lando's smile to disappear into something softer.

Lando's smile disappeared completely the second he heard her voice crack.

The change was immediate.

A moment ago he'd been teasing her gently, enjoying the way she always became dramatic whenever either of them mentioned leaving. Now, however, he could already see the tears she was trying desperately to prevent, and guilt settled heavily in his chest because this was exactly what she'd been avoiding all morning.

Without saying anything else, he shifted closer.

His arm tightened around her shoulders before he carefully pulled her fully against him, guiding her into his chest until her face disappeared against his shirt. The movement was instinctive, automatic, the same way breathing was automatic after all these years of knowing her.

—Hey,— he murmured softly.

Amelie immediately shook her head against him.

The motion only made her look more upset.

—Don't,— she complained, voice muffled against his chest. —I was doing fine.—

Lando's hand moved slowly through her hair while he held her against his chest, feeling the way she tried and failed to hide the fact that she was crying. The yacht continued cutting through the water beneath them, Monaco growing larger with every passing minute, but neither of them paid much attention to the approaching harbor anymore. Right now the city felt very far away compared to the reality sitting between them.

—You were not doing fine,— he informed her gently.

Amelie immediately let out a frustrated sound against his shirt.

—I was doing fine as long as nobody mentioned leaving,— she argued, lifting her head just enough for him to see the tears she had been trying to hide. —That was a perfectly good system and you ruined it for everyone.—

The sight made something tighten painfully inside his chest.

Even after all this time, he hated seeing her cry.

Not because it made her look weak. Quite the opposite. Amelie spent so much of her life being strong for everybody around her that moments like this always felt strangely intimate, like she was letting him see something nobody else got access to.

Lando leaned forward and pressed a kiss against the top of her head.

—I'm sorry,— he said quietly.

—No you're not.—

—Okay, I'm a little sorry.—

That finally earned the smallest laugh from her.

The sound was watery and broken around the edges, but it was still a laugh, and Lando immediately took it as a victory. He kept one arm around her waist while slowly rocking her back and forth, more out of instinct than intention, the same way somebody would comfort a child after a nightmare.

For a while neither of them said anything.

The wind moved softly around them while Charlie remained occupied near the opposite side of the deck, completely unaware that an emotional crisis was currently taking place behind him. The puppy had apparently discovered a new game involving his toy and a deck chair, which seemed to require an impressive amount of concentration.

Eventually Amelie wiped at her eyes.

—I hate this part,— she admitted quietly.

The confession came out softer than she intended, carried away almost immediately by the breeze rolling across the deck. For a few seconds she kept her gaze fixed on the water instead of looking at him, watching the sunlight scatter across the waves while the yacht continued its steady approach toward Monaco.

Lando's arm remained securely around her waist.

—Me too,— he admitted.

There was no joke attached to it. No attempt to soften it with humor. Just the truth.

That somehow made it worse.

Amelie let out a slow breath before finally lifting her head enough to look at him properly. His expression had settled into something calm and affectionate, the kind of look that always made her feel both safer and more emotional at the same time.

—We're acting like we're saying goodbye forever,— she pointed out.

—Because you're being dramatic,— Lando replied immediately.

That earned him a look.

A very specific look.

The kind that usually warned him he was seconds away from getting hit with a pillow, a hoodie, or whatever object happened to be within reach.

—I'm being dramatic?— she repeated.

—Yes,— he said confidently. —You are literally crying because we're not seeing each other for a week.—

Amelie stared at him.

—You started this conversation.—

—That is an excellent point,— he admitted.

The corner of her mouth twitched despite herself.

Lando immediately noticed.

—There she is.—

—Don't do that.—

—Do what?—

—The thing where you make me laugh when I'm trying to be upset.—

His grin widened.

—It's one of my greatest talents.—

Amelie rolled her eyes, but some of the tension finally loosened from her shoulders. The tears were still there, lingering around the edges, but they no longer felt quite as overwhelming.

The yacht continued moving toward the harbor while the outline of Monaco grew sharper by the minute.

Reality was getting closer.

Unfortunately.

—We'll be fine,— Lando said after a moment, his voice quieter now. —I've got Barcelona, then I've got the week off. I'll come see you.—

Amelie nodded slightly.

—You promise?—

—I promise.—

He didn't hesitate.

Didn't even need to think about it.

The certainty in his voice settled something inside her chest.

—And then you'll probably complain about Vancouver weather the entire time,— she said.

—Because the weather is ridiculous.—

—You're British

—Exactly. I'm an expert on bad weather.—

That finally pulled a real laugh from her.

The sound made him smile immediately.

For a while they stayed like that, tangled together on the sunbed while the ocean stretched endlessly around them. Charlie eventually returned carrying his toy, proudly dropping it at their feet before immediately demanding attention again.

The interruption was enough to break some of the heaviness.

Amelie leaned down to scratch behind his ears while Charlie practically melted beneath the affection.

—At least somebody isn't emotional,— she said.

Charlie barked once.

Lando nodded.

—He's emotionally stable because he has no responsibilities.—

—Honestly, goals.—

The puppy accepted the compliment with the confidence of someone who believed he was contributing significantly to the conversation.

For another few minutes they sat quietly, enjoying the final stretch of peace before flights, airports, schedules, and real life came crashing back in.

Eventually Lando looked down at her again.

For a second he seemed to be considering something, his expression caught somewhere between affection and mischief, which immediately made Amelie suspicious. Over the years she had learned that particular look usually meant he was about to say something either incredibly sweet or incredibly stupid.

Unfortunately, with Lando, it was often both.

The corner of his mouth twitched.

—You know,— he began thoughtfully, his fingers absentmindedly playing with a strand of her hair, —this conversation went very differently in my head.—

Amelie narrowed her eyes immediately.

—That's never a good start.—

That reaction alone made him laugh.

Amelie knew him far too well.

—Why are you looking at me like that?— she asked, already narrowing her eyes.

—Because I had this whole emotional goodbye speech prepared,— he admitted. —And in my head you were supposed to tell me how much you'd miss me, and then we'd have very romantic goodbye sex before reality ruined everything.—

Amelie stared at him for a second before letting out a laugh that still sounded slightly tearful around the edges.

She reached up to wipe at the corner of her eyes with the back of her hand, entirely amused despite herself.

—You are unbelievable,— she said, shaking her head as a fresh, genuine smile broke across her face. —I am literally sitting here crying because I’m going to miss you, and your brain immediately goes straight to that. You have absolutely no shame, Lando Norris.—

—Hey, I’m just being practical,— Lando defended himself, his grin widening when he saw that the heavy, somber atmosphere had completely evaporated. —It’s called time management. We’ve got a very limited window before the captain docks this thing, and I think it’s a perfectly reasonable request.—

Amelie let out a snort, leaning back against his chest while looking out toward the harbor, which was now close enough that she could see the individual cars moving along the coastal roads.

—Right,— she said, her voice dripping with pure, unadulterated sarcasm. —Because we are totally going to have sex right here on the upper deck, where literally all of Monaco can see us with binoculars. That sounds incredibly romantic and not at all like a public decency arrest.—

Lando didn't look discouraged by her logic in the slightest. Instead, he shifted his weight, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look down at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes that she knew all too well.

—Well, look at the bright side,— he said, his tone full of playful arrogance as he shrugged his shoulders. —At least if anyone is watching, they will all know that I fuck you good. I'd say that's a pretty great reputation to maintain around the paddock.—

Amelie couldn't help but chuckle at his sheer confidence, nodding her head in mock agreement while she rolled her eyes at his ridiculous logic.

—Oh, absolutely,— she agreed, her voice full of amusement. —I’m sure your engineers would love to hear all about that during your pre-race briefings in Barcelona. It really adds to the team morale.—

Lando chuckled, the sound vibrating against her side before he leaned down and pressed a long, lingering kiss against her forehead, his lips warm against her skin. The playful demeanor softened just a fraction, returning to that familiar warmth that always made her feel entirely grounded, even when their lives were about to scatter in opposite directions.

Amelie leaned into the affection, but as he pulled back, a sudden thought crossed her mind, and she looked up at him with a thoroughly teasing expression.

—Oh, really?— she asked, her voice dropping into a playful challenge that immediately caught his attention. —But since you’re going to be all the way in Spain and I’m going to be halfway across the world, who is gonna fuck me good now?—

Lando’s eyebrows raised instantly, a mixture of feigned shock and competitive pride crossing his face at her sudden boldness. He let out a low laugh, his grip tightening around her waist as he pulled her slightly closer, completely erasing any remaining distance between their bodies on the sunbed.

—Just you wait,— he warned, his voice lowering into a deeper, much more serious promise that made a sudden shiver run straight down her spine. —In two weeks I am gonna fuck you so good again that you won’t even remember what country you’re in, so don't you dare go looking for any replacements while I’m gone.—

Amelie cracked a beautiful, genuine smile at his possessive tone, the last remnants of her sadness completely vanishing under the weight of his words. She reached up to wrap her arms around his neck, looking into his eyes and realizing that neither of them could honestly wait more for this upcoming week to pass fast so they could finally be back in each other’s arms.

--------------

liked by raceweekendd, orangeera, and others

hollywoodfix: Lando Norris and Amelie Dayman spotted enjoying a relaxing day aboard a yacht near Monaco today.

View all 1,049 comments

papayagirl: SO THAT'S WHERE THEY DISAPPEARED AFTER THE AFTERPARTY 😭 → loveroflan: mystery solved → lanmeliehub: they said goodbye to society

ameliecore: not them vanishing for three days and then showing up on a yacht 😭 → goldenhouramelie: monaco resident activities → softamelie: must be nice

fanameliee: the way they're physically incapable of not touching each other 😭 → cherryvibes: every photo

sunsetamelie: lando's race ended and he immediately entered boyfriend mode full-time 😭 → goldenhouramelie: racing season paused → softclouds: romance season activated

papayadreams: the first photo HELLO????? → loveroflan: just casually kissing in broad daylight

amelievibes: i need someone to explain why they're always attached at the hip 😭 → cherryvibes: codependency → dreamygirlie: affection actually 😭

fanpageamelie: the second photo is killing me because they're doing completely different things but still laying together 😭 → goldenhouramelie: peak relationship honestly

lanfan44: i know charlie is somewhere on that yacht too 😭 → papayaprincess: hidden in the shadows → loveroflan: emotional support captain

softamelie: nobody spotted them because they were probably recovering from sunday 😭 → goldenhouramelie: physically emotionally spiritually → sunsetamelie: valid honestly

ameliecentral: the way lando always looks happiest when he's nowhere near a racetrack 😭

papayagirl: them disappearing together after monaco and reappearing on a yacht is the most monaco thing ever 😭 → loveroflan: rich people healing process → lanmeliehub: luxury coping mechanism

sunflowermelie: not him on the ipad while she's on her phone 😭 → goldenhouramelie: couple productivity

f1fairytale: they really looked at the internet drama and said "we're going boating" 😭 → lovergirlie: healthiest response possible → paddockangel: icons

midnightamelie: i'm crying because the first photo is all romance and the second is literally married couple energy 😭

coastalgirlie: if i had a dollar for every yacht photo of these two i'd have enough money to buy a yacht 😭 → moonlightvibes: monaco starter pack → raceweekendd: genuinely

goldenpapaya: lando after the dnf: 😔 lando 48 hours later: 😚🛥️☀️

raceweekendd: the way they're always either kissing or staring at electronics together 😭 → cherryvibes: there is no middle ground → dreamygirlie: couple goals honestly

papayastan: okay but the touchiness is actually insane 😭 → orangeera: personal space left the relationship years ago → paddockvibes: extinct species

formulaheart: nobody was spotting them because they were probably sleeping until noon after that afterparty 😭 → monacofan: and honestly good for them

gridgirlie: i love how they went from drunk dancing on sunday night to yacht life by tuesday 😭 → racegirlie: adaptability → papayastan: inspiring honestly

monacogirl: the second photo is so funny because they look like a couple in their 70s 😭 → formulaheart: "what are you reading?"

loveroflan: every paparazzi photo of them is either aggressively in love or aggressively domestic 😭 → lanmeliehub: there are only two settings → papayagirl: and i love both 😭

sunsetracing: imagine being the photographer and realizing you've interrupted date day 😭

f1lover44: the fact nobody knew where they were for days and the answer was literally "on a yacht" 😭 → paddockvibes: should've guessed → orangeera: rookie mistake honestly 😭

--------------

The Barcelona paddock blurred around Lando as he walked as fast as he could without technically breaking into a run.

His backpack bounced lightly against his shoulder while the Mclaren polo clung uncomfortably to his back from the combination of summer heat and the fact that he'd spent the last fifteen minutes speed-walking through half the circuit. Mechanics, engineers, media members, sponsors, and paddock guests seemed determined to appear in front of him at exactly the wrong moment, forcing him to weave around groups of people while checking his phone every few seconds.

The fan stage had definitely already started.

He knew it.

Mia knew it.

Unfortunately, that didn't change the fact that his flight had landed later than planned, and even more unfortunately, the delay wasn't entirely the airline's fault.

Well.

Not completely.

Lando adjusted the strap of his backpack and picked up his pace again as another group of people blocked the walkway ahead.

If he was being honest with himself, he probably could've taken an earlier flight.

The problem was that an earlier flight would've meant ending his FaceTime call with Amelie several hours sooner the night before, and after spending almost every second of the last six months together, suddenly being on opposite sides of the planet again had felt considerably worse than either of them had expected.

The memory of finally ending that call sometime around three in the morning still felt entirely worth it.

Neither of them had wanted to hang up first.

The conversation had started with normal topics, moved into complaining about being in different countries again, somehow turned into Charlie refusing to sleep in his own bed, and eventually dissolved into the comfortable kind of silence that only happened when you knew someone well enough to enjoy simply existing together through a screen.

The result, unfortunately, was that Lando now looked suspiciously like a man surviving entirely on caffeine and poor decisions.

In fairness, that description wasn't entirely inaccurate.

His phone buzzed again in his hand as he rounded another corner of the paddock, but he didn't even bother looking at it this time. The message was almost certainly from Mia, and judging by the increasingly threatening tone of the previous three, opening it would only make him walk faster.

Ahead of him, the distant sound of music and crowd noise finally became louder.

That was both a relief and a problem.

A relief because it meant he was finally close enough to the fan stage to stop worrying about getting completely lost somewhere inside the endless maze that was the Formula One paddock. A problem because the louder the crowd became, the more obvious it was that the event had already started without him.

Lando let out a breath and adjusted the backpack strap again before weaving around another group of hospitality guests.

The Spanish sun was relentless overhead, bouncing off every reflective surface around the circuit while thousands of fans packed the venue for the opening day festivities. Somewhere in the distance he could already hear a presenter speaking through the stage speakers, followed by a wave of laughter from the crowd.

Definitely started.

Definitely late.

Definitely about to get yelled at by Mia.

The realization barely had time to settle before he finally rounded the last corner and spotted the fan zone.

The crowd stretched farther than he expected.

Thousands of people packed around the stage, flags waving above their heads while cameras pointed toward the drivers standing beneath the massive screens. Even from backstage he could immediately spot Oscar standing beside Checo and Valtteri, all three listening while the presenter spoke into his microphone.

Backstage, Mia was waiting.

That realization somehow felt more threatening than being late.

Lando spotted her immediately standing near the side entrance to the stage, one hand holding several cue cards while the other rested against her hip. Her expression had already crossed the line from annoyed into disappointed, which was always significantly worse.

For a moment she looked down at the watch on her wrist.

Then she looked up directly at Lando.

The expression on her face somehow managed to communicate disappointment, annoyance, and the promise of future consequences all at the same time. It was honestly impressive.

Lando immediately lifted both hands.

—Before you say anything—

—No,— Mia interrupted.

She didn't even slow down.

The second he reached her, she shoved a Formula One microphone directly into his hand while simultaneously grabbing the strap of his backpack and pulling it off his shoulder with the efficiency of someone who had absolutely no patience left.

—Your excuses can wait until after you've stopped making me develop stress-induced medical conditions,— she informed him while already steering him toward the stage entrance. —Smile, wave, pretend you're a responsible adult, and we'll discuss your life choices later.—

Lando opened his mouth.

Mia immediately pointed toward the stage.

—Go.—

There was absolutely no room for negotiation in her voice.

Before he could attempt a defense, she gave him one final push between the shoulder blades and sent him directly toward the stage entrance.

The moment he stepped into view, the reaction from the crowd was immediate.

Thousands of fans erupted into cheers loud enough that he physically felt the sound hit him. Flags lifted into the air. Phones immediately pointed toward him from every direction. Somewhere near the front several fans started screaming his name loud enough to be heard over the speakers.

Lando laughed despite himself.

His hand lifted automatically in a wave as he walked across the stage, the noise somehow growing louder instead of quieter. The presenter immediately turned toward him while Oscar, Checo, and Valtteri all looked over from where they'd been standing.

The second Lando reached the group, Oscar stepped forward and bumped his fist against his shoulder hard enough to make the crowd laugh, clearly aware that half the audience had just witnessed somebody arriving suspiciously late.

—Nice of you to join us,— Oscar said into his microphone.

The crowd laughed.

Lando rolled his eyes while reaching out to fist bump Oscar properly before doing the same with Checo and Valtteri.

—I was busy creating suspense,— he replied.

The presenter looked unconvinced.

—That's an interesting way of describing being late.—

—My flight got delayed,— Lando answered smoothly.

The lie left his mouth with far more confidence than it deserved.

Checo immediately looked down at the stage floor, already trying not to laugh, because he'd received a very specific FaceTime screenshot from Amelie at nearly three in the morning showing Lando still awake in Monaco. Oscar noticed the reaction almost instantly and narrowed his eyes suspiciously, while the presenter seemed willing to accept the explanation for now.

Unfortunately, Checo's self-control lasted approximately five seconds.

The corner of his mouth twitched once before he lifted his microphone again, looking entirely too pleased with himself for somebody who hadn't even spoken yet. Lando saw the expression immediately and knew he was in danger.

—Interesting,— Checo said casually. —Because somebody looked very awake at three in the morning yesterday.—

The crowd reacted immediately.

Not because they understood the context, but because Formula One fans could smell potential embarrassment from several kilometers away.

Lando pointed at him accusingly.

—Don't start.—

Checo's smile widened.

Oscar looked between both of them with growing interest while Valtteri folded his arms and immediately settled into the posture of a man enjoying free entertainment.

—I'm just saying,— Checo continued innocently. —The airline should investigate why the passenger was voluntarily awake until sunrise.—

The crowd laughed.

Lando groaned dramatically into his microphone while shaking his head.

—I regret every conversation we've ever had.—

—That's fair,— Checo replied.

The presenter immediately jumped on the opening before the conversation could become any more suspicious.

—Well, now that we've finally managed to gather all four of you in the same place,— he said with exaggerated relief, earning another laugh from the crowd, —let's talk about something everyone here has been arguing about all morning. How many of you actually speak Spanish?—

The question earned immediate cheers from the Spanish fans packed in front of the stage.

For a moment the noise became loud enough that the presenter had to lower his microphone and wait for the crowd to settle again. Flags waved above the audience while several fans immediately started shouting things in Spanish toward the drivers, apparently determined to test that answer themselves.

Checo pointed at himself first.

—Well, I think I'm probably safe here,— he said dryly, earning another wave of laughter from the crowd.

The presenter nodded dramatically.

—Yes, I think we can confirm that one.—

Beside him, Oscar immediately lifted both hands.

—I'm not even participating in this conversation.—

The audience laughed again while Oscar shrugged with the complete confidence of somebody who knew exactly how limited his Spanish vocabulary actually was. Valtteri looked equally unbothered.

—I know enough to order food,— Valtteri admitted.

—That's the important part,— the presenter replied.

—Exactly,— Valtteri agreed.

The attention immediately shifted toward Lando.

The reaction from the crowd was immediate.

Several fans near the front started shouting things in rapid-fire Spanish, apparently deciding this was the perfect opportunity to test exactly how much he actually understood. The noise rolled across the fan zone in waves while Lando stared back at them with the expression of a man who suddenly regretted every language lesson he'd ever claimed was going well.

He lifted his microphone.

—This is exactly the problem,— he admitted. —Everybody thinks I understand more than I actually do.—

The crowd laughed.

Beside him, Checo immediately looked offended on behalf of the entire Spanish-speaking population.

—No, no, no,— he interrupted. —You understand a lot.—

Lando shook his head.

—I understand enough to know when people are making fun of me.—

—Which is often,— Oscar added helpfully.

That earned another laugh from both the audience and the drivers standing on stage.

Checo pointed toward Lando dramatically.

—He understands much more than he admits. He'll sit there pretending he's lost and then suddenly answer a conversation nobody translated for him.—

The accusation immediately made the crowd cheer.

Lando looked toward the audience as if searching for support.

Unfortunately, nobody seemed interested in helping him.

—That's because context clues exist,— he defended.

—Liar,— Checo replied.

The presenter laughed before stepping back into the conversation, clearly enjoying the dynamic developing between them.

—So you're saying his Spanish is secretly better than he claims?—

—Absolutely,— Checo answered immediately.

—Absolutely not,— Lando answered at the exact same time.

The crowd erupted.

Valtteri shook his head while watching the argument unfold.

—This is the most passionate I've ever seen anybody discuss language skills,— he observed.

The comment somehow made everyone laugh even harder.

The presenter waited for the noise to settle slightly before moving toward the next topic.

—Speaking of things people are passionate about, today is a pretty big day outside Formula One too.—

That earned another reaction from the crowd.

Immediately several football jerseys became visible among the sea of fans packed around the stage.

The World Cup had officially begun.

Even in a Formula One paddock, that wasn't something people ignored.

Checo's expression brightened instantly.

The presenter noticed immediately.

—I think I know who wants to answer this first,— he said. —How excited are you guys for the World Cup?—

The question barely finished before Checo nodded enthusiastically.

—Very excited,— he admitted. —My oldest son has been talking about it for months already. He's actually going to the opening match today with his aunt in Mexico City, and I think he's more excited about that than anything else happening this year.—

The crowd reacted warmly.

Checo smiled immediately.

The expression that crossed his face was unmistakably that of a proud father.

—He called me three times yesterday just to remind me he was going,— he continued. —As if I somehow forgot the tickets existed.—

The audience laughed.

Lando was smiling too.

Mostly because he knew exactly who the mysterious aunt was.

Amelie had been sending photos of football merchandise, stadium preparations, and increasingly excited messages for almost a week. The fact that she had somehow become just as excited as her nephew felt entirely predictable.

—He's been counting down for months,— Lando added.

Checo immediately pointed at him.

—See, he knows.—

Lando realized his mistake approximately half a second too late.

The crowd laughed again.

Oscar looked between them suspiciously.

—Interesting amount of information there.—

—I watch football,— Lando replied quickly.

The defense sounded weak even to himself.

Valtteri immediately looked unconvinced.

The presenter, thankfully, chose to rescue him before the conversation could become any more dangerous.

—Opening match predictions then,— he announced. —Mexico versus South Africa. Who's winning?—

The crowd instantly became louder.

Several Mexican flags appeared above the audience while cheers rolled through the fan zone.

Checo looked delighted.

—I feel like I have to support Mexico here.—

—Coward,— Oscar replied.

The audience laughed.

Checo shrugged.

—It's my job.—

The presenter moved toward Valtteri first.

The Finn considered the question seriously for a moment before giving his answer, earning a mix of cheers and boos depending on which section of the crowd agreed with him.

Oscar followed next, somehow managing to deliver his prediction while simultaneously offending both sides equally.

That alone earned applause.

Eventually the microphone returned to Lando.

The sight immediately made the audience cheer again.

—Okay,— he admitted. —This is actually the first World Cup where I'm not only supporting England anymore.—

The reaction was immediate.

The crowd practically exploded.

Checo threw both hands into the air like he'd personally won an argument.

Oscar looked scandalized.

—You're abandoning your country?—

—I'm expanding my options,— Lando corrected.

The audience loved that answer.

Thousands of fans immediately started cheering while several Mexican flags waved even harder than before.

Checo was laughing now.

—That's the correct answer.—

—It's a very strategic answer,— Oscar replied.

Lando pointed at the jersey.

—The evidence is literally right here.—

The presenter smiled.

—So if England and Mexico play each other?—

That question immediately drew an even louder reaction from the audience.

Lando winced.

—That's a future problem.—

—Coward,— Oscar said.

—Absolutely,— Lando agreed.

The honesty earned another wave of laughter.

For a few moments the conversation drifted toward football stories, childhood memories, favorite players, and terrible predictions that would almost certainly age badly by the end of the tournament. The atmosphere became lighter with every answer, the drivers feeding off the energy coming from the crowd.

Eventually the presenter looked toward Checo and Lando again.

—Are you guys actually going to watch the opening match tonight?—

Checo nodded immediately.

—Definitely.—

Lando did the same.

—Yeah. We're watching it together.—

That answer earned another warm reaction from the crowd.

The thought alone sounded significantly better than whatever media obligations waited for him later that evening.

A football match.

Good company.

A few hours to relax before race weekend properly began.

After the last few weeks, that sounded perfect.

The presenter smiled before turning back toward the audience.

—Well, there you have it. Formula One drivers, football experts, and apparently language experts too.—

—Not language experts,— Lando corrected immediately.

Checo laughed.

The crowd cheered.

And for the first time since sprinting through half the paddock with Mia mentally preparing his funeral, Lando finally felt like he'd arrived exactly where he was supposed to be.

--------------

liked by ameliecentral, goldenhouramelie, and others

amelieupdates: Amelie Dayman spotted at the Estadio Azteca today supporting Mexico 🇲🇽⚽️❤️

View all 869 comments

mexicogirlie: AMELIE AT THE AZTECA WE WON 😭🇲🇽 → sunsetvibes: she really said support local business → dreamygirlie: queen behavior

soccerera: not her actually being in mexico for once 😭 → cherryvibes: the country missed her → raceweekendd: welcome home queen

ameliecore: imagine trying to watch the game and realizing amelie dayman is sitting three sections away 😭 → goldenhouramelie: i'd forget football immediately

papayagirl: somewhere lando is getting 47 voice notes about this match 😭 → loveroflan: live commentary against his will → lanmeliehub: full analysis

fanameliee: she's living her best life this week honestly → cherryvibes: yacht one day → dreamygirlie: world cup the next 😭

sunsetamelie: the fact she gets to watch a world cup match at the azteca 😭 → goldenhouramelie: actual dream

mexicostan: i know she was LOUD during the mexico goals 😭 → racegirlie: no chance she sat quietly → papayastan: absolutely impossible

amelievibes: i need photos of her celebrating immediately 😭 → cherryvibes: same → dreamygirlie: security footage if necessary

futbolgirl: she's literally one of us 😭🇲🇽 → goldenhouramelie: just a girl supporting mexico

papayadreams: meanwhile lando is probably somewhere watching on a tiny ipad 😭 → loveroflan: while receiving 84 messages → lanmeliehub: "LOOK AT THIS GOAL"

softamelie: actress, singer, world cup attendee 😭

monacogirl: from monaco yacht to estadio azteca in like three days 😭 → raceweekendd: frequent flyer miles going crazy → moonlightvibes: her life is insane

f1fairytale: she really looked at her schedule and said yes to everything 😭 → lovergirlie: as she should

fanpageamelie: imagine being the person sitting next to her 😭 → papayagirl: i'd never shut up about it → loveroflan: immediate life peak

gridgirlie: i just know she brought the energy of an entire supporters section 😭 → paddockvibes: 100%

formulaheart: charlie watching this on instagram later like 🐶 → monacofan: wondering where everyone went → sunsetracing: abandoned again 😭

mexicogirl22: she chose mexico over resting after monaco 😭

goldenpapaya: the amount of random people realizing halfway through the game that amelie was there 😭

sunflowermelie: she looks like the type to know all the chants 😭 → goldenhouramelie: and scream every one → softclouds: louder than everyone else

raceweekendd: if mexico won she's insufferable tonight 😭

ameliecentral: she really got the best seats too 😭 → goldenhouramelie: manifestation works → softamelie: living the dream

papayagirl: not people at the stadium getting football AND an amelie sighting 😭 → loveroflan: two for one deal

--------------

Lando stared at his reflection again.

Not for the first time.

Not for the tenth time.

At this point, it was probably somewhere around the hundredth time he'd looked at himself since getting back to the hotel, which was ridiculous because there wasn't actually anything different to inspect. The green Mexico jersey looked exactly the same as it had five minutes ago. His hair looked exactly the same. His face looked exactly the same. Yet somehow he still found himself standing in front of the mirror, turning slightly from one side to the other like there might suddenly be new information available.

Outside, the city was slowly transitioning from race weekend preparation into evening. Team meetings were ending. Drivers were disappearing toward dinners or simulator sessions. Somewhere inside the hotel, engineers were probably still arguing over data while mechanics enjoyed one of the few calm evenings they'd get all weekend.

Lando, meanwhile, was standing in front of a mirror wondering if a football jersey somehow looked different every thirty seconds.

It didn't.

The realization unfortunately didn't stop him from checking again.

He smoothed one hand over the front of the Mexico jersey before taking a small step backward and studying himself critically. The green fabric fit comfortably, the crest sitting over his chest while the white and red details stood out against the evening light filtering through the room.

Objectively, he looked fine.

The problem wasn't the jersey.

The problem was everything attached to it.

Lando let out a slow breath and dragged one hand through his hair before turning away from the mirror entirely, forcing himself to stop inspecting details that didn't actually need inspecting. The room around him remained quiet, illuminated by the warm glow of the hotel lamps while the last traces of daylight faded beyond the windows overlooking Barcelona.

The digital clock beside the bed read a little after eight.

The opening ceremony would start soon.

That realization settled somewhere low in his stomach and immediately reminded him why he'd spent the last twenty minutes pretending his reflection required constant supervision. The football match itself wasn't what had him nervous. He'd sat through enough races, interviews, sponsor appearances, and championship-deciding moments to know how to function under pressure.

This was different.

Embarrassingly different.

Because tonight wasn't really about football.

Not entirely.

It was about sitting beside Checo for several hours without the convenient buffer of a paddock full of people, without race engineers interrupting conversations, without media obligations dragging them in different directions every five minutes, and without Amelie physically there to absorb half the attention naturally the way she always did.

The realization made him groan softly.

—You're twenty-six years old,— he muttered to himself. —Get a grip.—

Unfortunately, self-awareness wasn't fixing the problem.

Lando grabbed his room key from the desk and shoved it into his pocket before reaching for his phone one final time. The screen immediately lit up with a notification from Amelie that he'd been staring at every few minutes since she'd sent it.

The photo filled the screen instantly.

His stomach did an annoying little flip.

Amelie stood somewhere inside the stadium already, smiling at the camera while wearing the Mexico jersey tucked into a black denim skirt. The black-and-white checkered beret sat slightly crooked against her blonde hair, making her somehow look simultaneously like she was attending a football match and a fashion campaign.

It was deeply unfair.

Lando zoomed in.

Then zoomed in again.

Then immediately remembered he was behaving like a loser.

A smile still pulled at his mouth anyway.

Lan🧡: you look ridiculously pretty.

He stared at the message for a second before continuing.

Lan🧡: actually unfair.

A few seconds later another text followed.

Lan🧡: miss you.

The honesty felt easier through a screen.

Maybe because she'd immediately understand it.

Maybe because she was probably missing him too.

Before he could overthink it, Lando switched to the camera and took a quick selfie. The hotel room blurred behind him while the green Mexico jersey filled most of the frame. He looked slightly tired from travel, slightly sunburned from Barcelona, and slightly ridiculous.

Good enough.

He sent it.

Lan🧡: ready for the game.

A pause.

Lan🧡: you still owe me for making me support two countries now.

The message delivered almost immediately.

Lando smiled to himself before locking the screen and finally forcing his legs into motion.

If he stayed inside the room any longer, he was probably going to spend another half hour staring at his reflection and texting his girlfriend instead of actually attending the match.

The hallway outside remained quiet.

Soft hotel lighting stretched across the carpet while distant elevator chimes echoed somewhere further down the corridor. Lando adjusted the hem of the jersey once more out of pure habit before walking toward the elevators, already knowing exactly where he was going.

Max's room.

Because if he was going to spend the evening with Checo, then he was dragging Max along with him.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime before Lando could change his mind.

The hallway on Max's floor looked exactly like every other floor in the hotel, quiet and expensive and suspiciously empty for a place currently housing half the Formula One paddock. The thick carpet muffled his footsteps as he walked toward the familiar room number, his phone still warm in his hand from the conversation with Amelie.

The screen lit up again before he could pocket it.

A new message.

Amelie had replied.

His smile appeared immediately.

Ames💛: stop flirting with me and go watch the game.

Another message arrived before he could answer.

Ames💛: also you look handsome.

The grin widened automatically.

Lando slowed slightly as he walked, already typing back despite knowing perfectly well she had just told him to stop doing exactly that. The stadium behind her in the photo looked packed already, the opening ceremony preparations visible in the background while thousands of fans filled the stands.

A laugh escaped him before he could stop it.

The fact that she had sent two separate messages less than ten seconds apart made something warm settle in his chest, because it felt exactly like every late-night conversation they'd ever had. One second she was telling him to stop flirting, and the next she was immediately participating in the flirting herself.

Completely hypocritical.

Completely predictable.

Completely his favorite thing about her.

Lan🧡: that's literally mixed signals.

He hit send while continuing down the hallway, already picturing the eye roll she would give him if she were standing here instead of halfway across the world inside a football stadium.

A few seconds later the typing bubble appeared.

Then disappeared.

Then appeared again.

Lando slowed automatically, attention completely stolen by the screen despite the fact that he was currently supposed to be finding Max.

Ames💛: i'm a woman. Ames💛: that's our thing.

Lando laughed out loud.

Several hotel guests walking further down the corridor glanced over briefly before continuing toward the elevators, and Lando immediately looked away from them, still grinning like an idiot.

The smile somehow widened.

Because it already had.

Completely.

Hopelessly.

The fact that she missed him didn't make being apart easier. Somehow it made it worse. Better and worse simultaneously. The kind of contradiction that only seemed possible when somebody had become such a constant part of your life that even a few days apart felt wrong.

His thumb hovered over the keyboard for a moment.

Lan🧡: miss you.

This time he didn't try to hide it behind a joke.

The reply came almost instantly.

Ames💛: i know. Ames💛: miss you too.

The simple honesty of it hit harder than any dramatic declaration ever could.

For a second he found himself staring at the screen again, smiling like a complete idiot in the middle of a hotel corridor while hundreds of kilometers away Amelie was probably doing exactly the same thing.

Then reality returned.

Specifically in the form of remembering he was standing outside Max Verstappen's room.

Lando locked his phone and slid it into his back pocket before finally stopping in front of the familiar door. The hallway remained quiet around him, broken only by the distant hum of elevators somewhere further down the floor.

Max's room remained stubbornly silent for approximately three seconds.

Lando responded by knocking again, and again, and then a fourth time with enough persistence that it crossed the line from polite visitor into mild harassment.

The hallway echoed softly around him while he leaned closer to the door, already fully aware that Max was inside. Nobody answered messages that quickly unless they were sitting in their room avoiding human interaction.

—I know you're in there,— Lando called through the door.

The door remained closed for another few seconds.

Lando waited patiently for approximately half of one second before immediately abandoning patience altogether. His knuckles hit the wood again in a rapid series of knocks that sounded significantly more aggressive than necessary, mostly because he already knew Max was inside and was choosing not to answer.

The silence on the other side only confirmed it.

—Max,— Lando called again, leaning his forehead briefly against the door. —I can literally see you're online.—

Nothing.

The complete lack of response would've been more convincing if Lando hadn't received three separate messages from him less than ten minutes earlier. Somewhere behind the door, Max was absolutely sitting there deciding whether interacting with another human being sounded worth the effort.

The lock clicked.

A second later the door opened barely six inches, revealing Max standing there with the unmistakable expression of a man who already regretted answering.

He looked from Lando's face to the green Mexico jersey, then back to Lando's face again, and immediately seemed to understand exactly why somebody had been assaulting his door for the last thirty seconds.

Unfortunately, understanding didn't mean enthusiasm.

—No,— Max said immediately.

Lando stared at him.

—I haven't even asked anything yet.—

—You don't have to.—

Max didn't even look remotely guilty about cutting the conversation off before it had started.

The hotel room behind him remained visible through the narrow opening, illuminated by warm lighting while a laptop sat open somewhere further inside. Judging by the headset abandoned beside it, Lando had interrupted either sim racing, a meeting, or whatever mysterious activity Max disappeared into whenever normal human interaction became optional.

Lando planted one hand against the door before Max could close it.

—Come on,— he protested. —You don't even know what I was going to ask.—

Max looked entirely unimpressed.

The expression somehow managed to communicate years of friendship and complete certainty that Lando was about to become somebody else's problem.

—You're going to ask me to go watch the football match with you and Checo.—

Lando blinked.

—Okay, that's exactly what I was going to ask, but technically you still shouldn't know that.—

Max nodded once.

—No.—

The answer arrived with such confidence that it almost felt rehearsed.

Lando stared at him for several seconds, hoping there might be room for negotiation hidden somewhere behind the rejection. Unfortunately, Max looked like a man who had already made his decision three hours ago.

Lando continued staring at Max like determination alone might somehow change the answer. Unfortunately, Max had spent years dealing with Formula One politics, championship fights, media obligations, and Christian Horner. Compared to that, one mildly desperate McLaren driver standing in a hotel hallway barely registered as a challenge.

—You don't understand,— Lando tried again, pushing himself away from the door long enough to gesture dramatically with both hands. —This is exactly why you should come. I need support.—

Max looked genuinely confused by that.

The confusion lasted only a second before realization appeared.

Then amusement.

Which was significantly worse.

—Support,— Max repeated slowly.

Lando nodded immediately.

—Yes.—

—For watching football.—

—That's not the point.—

Max crossed his arms.

The movement somehow made him look even more impossible to convince, which Lando found deeply unfair considering they were supposed to be friends. Friends were supposed to help each other through difficult situations. Friends were not supposed to stand in hotel hallways looking entertained by another person's suffering.

—You're scared of Checo,— Max concluded.

Lando immediately pointed at him.

—See? That's exactly why you should come.—

The corner of Max's mouth twitched.

That tiny reaction alone told Lando he was already losing.

—I'm not babysitting you,— Max replied.

The hallway remained quiet around them while Lando groaned dramatically and dragged one hand through his hair. Somewhere further down the corridor an elevator chimed softly, but otherwise the entire floor seemed deserted, leaving him completely alone with the fact that his best friend was being profoundly unhelpful.

—I'm not asking you to babysit me,— he argued.

Max raised an eyebrow.

The expression said absolutely nothing.

Unfortunately, it somehow communicated everything.

Lando sighed.

—Okay, maybe a little bit.—

The admission earned an actual laugh.

A short one.

A rare one.

Which honestly felt insulting considering the crisis he was currently experiencing.

—Lando,— Max said, shaking his head slightly, —you've been dating his sister-in-law for years.—

—I know.—

—You've been around him for years.—

—I know.—

—You've gone on vacations together.—

—I know.—

—You've literally spent holidays together.—

—I know.—

Max stared at him. Lando stared back.

The silence stretched long enough that even he knew exactly where this conversation was heading.

—Then why are you acting like you're meeting him for the first time?— Max asked.

The question landed directly on the problem.

Because logically, none of this made sense.

Lando knew Checo.

Checo knew him.

There wasn't actually any reason to be nervous.

Unfortunately, logic had very little influence over the part of his brain currently responsible for reminding him that Checo was Amelie's brother-in-law, one of the most important people in her life, and a man whose opinion mattered significantly more than Lando liked admitting.

—Because he scares me,— Lando admitted finally.

That answer made Max stare at him for several seconds.

Not because he disagreed.

Mostly because he seemed to be deciding whether he wanted to laugh again.

—Checo?—

—Yes.—

—Checo Pérez?—

—Can you stop saying it like that?—

Max looked completely unconvinced.

The expression somehow made Lando feel even more ridiculous than he already did.

—He doesn't scare anybody,— Max replied.

—That's easy for you to say. You spent years sitting next to him every weekend.—

—Exactly.—

—Which means you've developed immunity.—

Max rubbed one hand across his face.

The gesture looked suspiciously like somebody questioning every friendship decision they'd ever made.

—Lando, he likes you.—

The certainty in his voice should've been reassuring.

Instead, it only made Lando more aware of how ridiculous this entire situation sounded out loud.

—I know he likes me.—

—Then what's the problem?—

Lando opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

Because that was the problem.

There wasn't actually a problem.

There hadn't been one for a long time.

Checo had never threatened him. Never intimidated him. Never acted protective in the stereotypical way people expected. If anything, Checo had spent the last year actively teasing him every opportunity he got.

Which somehow made the pressure worse.

Because it meant this nervousness existed entirely inside his own head.

Max noticed the realization happen in real time.

The smug expression appearing on his face immediately confirmed it.

—Exactly,— he said.

Lando hated when he was right.

Unfortunately, Max was right far more often than Lando liked admitting.

The Dutchman uncrossed his arms and stepped slightly closer to the doorway before looking at him with the kind of expression usually reserved for people who required extremely obvious advice.

—You need to grow some balls.—

Lando groaned immediately.

—That's not advice.—

—Yes it is.—

—No, it's not.—

Max looked entirely unbothered.

—You're avoiding normal interactions because you've convinced yourself they're awkward.—

Lando opened his mouth.

Closed it again.

Because annoyingly enough, Max wasn't wrong.

The football match wasn't actually the issue.

Neither was Checo.

The real problem was that ever since things with Amelie had become serious, Lando had spent a ridiculous amount of time overthinking every interaction with the people closest to her. Every family dinner. Every holiday. Every invitation.

As if one wrong conversation would somehow destroy everything.

It was exhausting.

And apparently obvious.

—You can't keep doing that forever,— Max continued. —At some point you actually have to coexist with people without treating every interaction like a hostage negotiation.—

The words landed harder than Lando expected.

Not because they were harsh.

Because they were true.

For a moment neither spoke.

The hallway remained quiet around them while Lando stared somewhere past Max's shoulder, already knowing exactly what he needed to do. He just didn't particularly enjoy the fact that somebody else had pointed it out first.

Max noticed immediately.

The smugness returned.

—There it is.—

—I hate you.—

—No, you don't.—

—A little bit.—

Max laughed softly before stepping backward into his room.

The movement immediately made Lando suspicious.

Mostly because it looked very much like somebody ending a conversation.

—Wait,— Lando protested. —You're still not coming?—

—Absolutely not.—

—Max.—

—No.—

—Max.—

—Still no.—

Lando stared at him one final time, hoping persistence might succeed where logic had failed.

It did not.

Max simply pointed toward the elevator, or more specifically, toward the floor below.

Toward Checo.

—Go watch the match.—

—You're a terrible friend.—

—Good luck.—

The door started closing.

Lando immediately lifted a hand.

—Max—

The door shut directly in his face.

The click of the lock echoed softly through the hallway.

For several seconds Lando simply stood there staring at the closed door.

Then he sighed.

The kind of sigh that came from realizing somebody had just given you advice you desperately needed and absolutely didn't want.

—Annoying bastard,— he muttered.

Unfortunately, Max was right.

Completely, painfully, annoyingly right.

Lando looked down the empty hallway before shoving both hands into his pockets and turning toward the elevators. The knot of nervousness hadn't disappeared, but it felt smaller now. Less like a looming disaster and more like something he simply needed to get over.

Because at some point Max's argument became impossible to ignore.

He couldn't keep avoiding normal moments.

Couldn't keep waiting for Amelie to act as a buffer every time.

Couldn't keep treating Checo like some terrifying final boss when the man had spent years giving him every opportunity imaginable to relax.

The elevator arrived with a soft chime.

A minute later the doors opened again on Checo's floor.

The hallway looked exactly the same as every other level in the hotel.

Quiet.

Expensive.

Calm.

Lando stepped out anyway.

His heartbeat picked up slightly with every room number he passed, which felt embarrassingly dramatic considering he was literally walking toward a football match invitation and not a championship-deciding race.

Still.

The nerves remained.

By the time he finally stopped outside the correct door, his stomach had already tied itself into several unnecessary knots.

He stared at the wood for a second.

Took a breath.

Then another.

—For God's sake,— he muttered to himself.

Before he could change his mind, Lando lifted his hand and knocked softly.

The sound echoed through the quiet hallway.

Then silence returned.

Lando stood there waiting, already praying that everything was about to go completely fine.

--------------

liked by stelladayman, lando, and others

schecoperez: Vamos México!!!!

Mostremos al mundo el gran país que somos 🇲🇽💚

View all 1,404 comments

lando: VAMOS 🇲🇽🇲🇽🇲🇽 → schecoperez: honorary mexican → papayastan: HE'S COMMITTED 😭

ameliedayman: the jersey looks familiar 🤨 → lando: no idea what you're talking about → stelladayman: liar → racegirlie: BUSTED 😭

ameliestan: somewhere amelie is screaming at the tv → dreamygirlie: probably louder than both of them → cherryvibes: definitely

monacogirl: the funniest part is amelie is actually AT THE GAME 😭 → racegirlie: meanwhile these two are on couch duty

maxverstappen1: mexico gained another supporter → schecoperez: finally → orangeera: max witnessing the adoption 😭

charles_leclerc: i see where the priorities are → lando: football > everything

alex_albon: vamos 🇲🇽 → dreamygirlie: alex collecting countries → cherryvibes: international king

oscarpiastri: did he pass the citizenship test → schecoperez: almost

georgerussell63: i know absolutely nothing about football → papayagirl: thanks george → lanmeliehub: valuable contribution 😭

flo_norris_showjumping: 🇲🇽🤍 → ciscanorris1: he owns more mexico shirts than england shirts now → sunsetamelie: CISCA 😭

stelladayman: one of these people is suspiciously british → schecoperez: we'll let it slide → paddockvibes: temporary visa approved 😭

jackdayman: he finally found a jersey that isn't papaya → loveroflan: growth

loveroflan: he started with the girlfriend and ended up with the brother-in-law too 😭 → sunsetamelie: family package → goldenhouramelie: buy one get one free

mexicostan22: checo collecting british men again 😭 → raceweekendd: first the paddock now this → moonlightvibes: recruitment successful

fanameliee: i just know amelie forced him to learn the anthem 😭

elysiadayman: mexico's strongest soldiers → ameliedayman: unfortunately true → papayastan: THE FAMILY 😭

checofan99: CHECO AND LANDO WAS NOT ON MY 2026 BINGO CARD 😭 → mexicoracing: same honestly → formulaheart: elite crossover

landofan44: the way he's standing there so proudly 😭 → loveroflan: that's his country now apparently → lanmeliehub: no hesitation whatsoever

papayadreams: imagine telling 2020 lando he'd be watching mexico matches in a mexico jersey with checo 😭 → goldenhouramelie: he'd be confused

papayagirl: lando really saw one blonde mexican and never recovered 😭 → loveroflan: now he's supporting the entire country → lanmeliehub: full package deal 😭

f1mexico: not lando becoming more mexican every month 😭 → orangeera: natural progression

checoarmy: checo adopting random drivers remains one of my favorite genres → orangeera: father figure behavior → paddockvibes: it's what he does

sunsetamelie: lando supporting mexico harder than some mexicans i know 😭 → racegirlie: he's dedicated

ameliecore: the day lando starts speaking spanish fluently we're finished 😭 → goldenhouramelie: everyone's expecting it → softclouds: inevitable storyline

lanmeliefever: bro got a girlfriend and accidentally became mexican 😭 → cherrysoda: happens to the best of us → goldenpapaya: classic situation 😭

mexicogirl22: checo looking proud and lando looking like he studied for this moment 😭

Sunday had been a slow suffocation of opportunity. The opening laps had already dropped him out of contention, trapped in the familiar Monaco train where every car sat too close to the next but never close enough to actually attempt anything meaningful. Strategy calls had come and gone without changing much, pit stops reshuffling the same impossible order rather than breaking it. Then, just when it started to feel like a long but manageable points finish, the power unit issue had arrived with brutal finality.

Lap 45.

No drama, no fight, just a quiet failure that forced him back into the pit lane and out of the race entirely.

Another DNF in a season that already felt like it was stacking up too many of them.

Lando dragged a hand down his face as he moved away from the door, already peeling off the upper half of his race suit with tired, practiced motions. The fabric clung slightly from heat and tension, but not from effort; Monaco had never given him the chance to really push hard enough to build up anything resembling exhaustion. That almost made it worse. He hadn’t even gotten the satisfaction of feeling like he had fought properly today.

He let the suit fall to his waist and then stepped out of it completely, leaving it half-draped over a chair before stripping off the fireproof layers underneath. The motions were automatic, almost detached, like his body was going through a routine his mind wasn’t fully present for. Outside, somewhere in the distance, the crowd reacted to something happening on track, a distant wave of sound that reminded him the race was still going on without him.

He didn’t bother with the shower.

There was nothing to wash off except frustration, and water wouldn’t fix that anyway.

Instead, he pulled on a McLaren polo from the back of a chair and then reached for a pair of jeans folded neatly beside his bag. The simple clothes felt grounding in a way the race suit never did, like slowly shedding the version of himself that belonged to the circuit and returning to something slightly more human. Still, the weight in his chest didn’t really move.

He was halfway through buttoning his jeans when the soft knock came at the door.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t urgent. It was careful in a way that immediately made him pause.

The door opened just slightly before he could answer, and a familiar face peeked inside through the narrow gap.

Lando startled instinctively, freezing for half a second out of pure reflex, still shirtless and mid-change as his hands hovered awkwardly near his waistband. His eyes widened before recognition caught up properly, and then the tension drained almost immediately from his shoulders.

Amelie.

She pushed the door open a little more when she saw him, stepping inside with that same quiet confidence she always seemed to have, like she belonged in every space she entered without needing permission from it. The door closed softly behind her as she walked further in, her presence immediately changing the feel of the room in a way nothing else had managed all day.

She was dressed in an elegant monochromatic ensemble in warm terracotta and burnt orange tones that somehow looked both vintage and impossibly modern at the same time. The lace corseted top caught the light subtly as she moved, while the semi-sheer draped maxi skirt shifted around her legs with a soft fluidity that made every step look intentional. A matching lace headscarf framed her face, and a plush copper velvet clutch rested in her hand, adding a final touch of warmth to the entire look.

For a second, Lando just stared at her.

Not because of the outfit, but because she was here.

—Hey,— she said softly, as if sensing he needed something gentle rather than loud.

His shoulders loosened slightly.

—You scared the life out of me,— he admitted, exhaling a short laugh that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Amelie smiled as she approached him slowly, closing the remaining distance between them with careful steps that felt almost respectful of whatever headspace he was in. When she reached him, she didn’t hesitate. She simply lifted her arms and wrapped them around his waist, pressing her cheek lightly against his chest.

Lando instinctively brought his arms around her, holding her properly now that the initial surprise had faded.

—Did Jon send you to rescue me?— he asked quietly, half joking but still a little rough around the edges.

Amelie pulled back just enough to look up at him, eyebrows lifting slightly as she let out a soft laugh.

—No,— she answered simply. —I came willingly. No one had to send me anywhere.—

That made something in his expression soften further.

He leaned down then, pressing a slow kiss to her forehead, then another to the side of her temple like he was grounding himself in her presence. Amelie’s hands stayed resting against his sides, steady and warm.

When he finally pulled back slightly, she let him go just enough to give him space to finish changing, stepping away without breaking the comfort between them. Instead of leaving the room, she simply walked over to the small couch near the side wall where Lando’s partially assembled LEGO helmet sat abandoned from earlier.

She kicked off her heels carefully, setting them aside before sitting down cross-legged and picking up a loose piece from the build.

Lando watched her for a second, then finished pulling on his shirt fully.

—It’s not even disappointing anymore,— he said quietly, more to himself than to her as he moved closer. —It just feels like we’re fighting for points instead of actually fighting for wins now. Like we’re stuck in survival mode every weekend.—

Amelie didn’t look up immediately. She just turned a small LEGO piece between her fingers, listening.

Lando sat down beside her a moment later, close enough that their shoulders almost touched, exhaustion finally settling properly into his posture now that the adrenaline had worn off completely.

He leaned back slightly, exhaling through his nose.

—It’s just… frustrating,— he added more softly. —Because I know what this place is supposed to feel like when it works.—

Amelie finally glanced at him then, her expression softer now, more present.

Instead of answering immediately, she shifted closer until she was leaning lightly into his side. It wasn’t dramatic or performative. It was just instinctive.

Lando responded instantly, one arm slipping around her shoulders without hesitation.

The silence between them didn’t feel heavy. It felt shared.

After a moment, Amelie spoke quietly.

—You didn’t win today,— she said gently, pausing just long enough for him to look at her. —But you didn’t lose what matters either.—

Lando huffed a quiet laugh under his breath, shaking his head slightly.

—That’s very optimistic of you.—

—Someone has to be,— she replied calmly.

He looked down at her properly then, watching the way she fit so easily against him, like she had always been meant to be there. His expression shifted slowly, something softer breaking through the frustration he’d carried all day.

His expression shifted slowly, something softer breaking through the frustration he’d carried all day, like the weight of the result finally had somewhere safe to land instead of just sitting inside his chest.

Amelie noticed it immediately, the way she always did, and she lifted one hand from the LEGO pieces to gently rest her fingers against his jaw, guiding his attention fully back to her without any pressure or urgency.

—Hey,— she murmured quietly, her thumb brushing once along his cheekbone as she studied him with calm focus. —Talk to me properly, not just the driver version of you that does media answers and polite sadness.—

Lando let out a short breath that almost turned into a laugh, but instead it came out softer, more tired, and he leaned slightly into her touch without even thinking about it, as if his body had already decided she was the only place worth settling.

—I’m just… annoyed at myself,— he admitted after a moment, voice quieter now that he wasn’t performing anything for anyone. —I came here as defending winner, pole last year, all that hype, and it just turned into a disaster from Saturday onwards.—

Amelie didn’t interrupt him. She just stayed close, her hand still on his face, listening in a way that made the room feel smaller and safer at the same time, like everything outside the driver's room had temporarily stopped existing.

—And today I just… disappeared from it completely,— he continued, exhaling through his nose while glancing down briefly at the floor. —DNF, power unit, no fight, nothing to even build on. It’s like the whole weekend just erased itself.—

Amelie shifted slightly closer again, this time resting her forehead lightly against his shoulder for a second before looking back up at him, her expression steady but warm.

—You didn’t disappear,— she said simply, like it was the most obvious truth in the world. —You’re right here, and I’m right here, and the weekend is just a weekend. It doesn’t get to take more from you than that.—

Lando huffed softly at that, a tired smile finally pulling at the corner of his mouth, not fully convinced but grateful anyway, because she always managed to make the world sound a little less final.

He leaned down then, pressing a slow kiss to her lips, unhurried and grounding, as if he needed the reminder that something in his day had actually gone right.

Amelie didn’t rush the kiss. She never did when she could tell he needed it more than he needed words.

Her hand stayed lightly against his jaw, keeping him close for a second longer than necessary before she finally let the moment break naturally, forehead resting briefly against his as both of them breathed in the same quiet space. The driver room outside the conversation, the paddock, even Monaco itself felt distant for a moment, like it all belonged to someone else’s life and not theirs.

When she pulled back, it was only enough to look at him properly again, her expression soft but steady, the kind of calm that didn’t try to fix things too fast.

—We can’t rewrite today,— she said gently, fingers still resting at his cheek. —But we also don’t have to let it follow you into the next thing.—

Lando let out a quiet breath through his nose, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, and leaned his head back against the couch for a second as if trying to reset something inside him.

—Easy for you to say,— he murmured, though there was no real bite to it.

Amelie immediately raised her eyebrows.

—Excuse me, I just walked into a Formula One emotional breakdown wearing burnt orange couture and built you LEGO therapy on the side,— she replied calmly. —I think I’ve earned a vote in this conversation.—

That finally pulled a real laugh out of him, short but genuine, the kind that loosened something in his shoulders without asking permission first.

She smiled at that like she’d been waiting for it all day.

Amelie shifted again on the couch, turning slightly so she could face him properly while still leaning into his side, one knee tucked up beneath her skirt. The LEGO helmet pieces sat abandoned between them for the moment, forgotten in favor of something more important happening in real time.

—Come here,— she said softly.

Lando didn’t question it.

He simply moved, letting her guide him closer until he was properly sitting beside her again, her arms wrapping around him without hesitation as she tucked herself into his chest. His hand instinctively came up to rest against her back, holding her there like it was the most natural reflex in the world.

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.

The silence wasn’t empty. It was full of everything they didn’t need to say out loud.

The silence lingered for a little while longer before Lando finally tipped his head back against the couch and stared up at the ceiling.

The frustration from the race hadn't magically disappeared, but it no longer felt sharp enough to cut through everything else. Sitting here with Amelie tucked against his side made it easier to remember that Monaco wasn't ending when he walked out of the paddock gates. There were still a few days left before she had to leave for Vancouver, before filming schedules and airports and different time zones started stealing pieces of their time together again. The thought settled somewhere warm inside his chest, and for the first time all afternoon, something resembling excitement returned.

His arm tightened slightly around her shoulders.

—We can go home now, you know,— he said suddenly.

Amelie lifted her head from his chest, immediately narrowing her eyes.

—That sounded suspiciously cheerful for someone who spent the last hour looking like he wanted to fight an engine supplier,— she informed him.

A small laugh escaped him.

The observation wasn't entirely unfair. He'd spent most of the afternoon alternating between disappointment and exhaustion, but now there was something else mixed in too. Something he'd been trying to hold onto ever since he'd planned it weeks ago.

—I have a surprise,— he admitted.

Amelie's eyebrows immediately lifted.

—Oh God.—

—Why is that your reaction?—

—Because every time you say the word surprise, it either costs an unreasonable amount of money or creates paperwork.—

Amelie's eyebrows rose even higher as she shifted slightly away from his chest, immediately suspicious in the way she always became whenever Lando sounded pleased with himself.

—That is not reassuring at all,— she informed him while narrowing her eyes. —What did you do?—

Lando's smile widened.

The expression alone was enough to make her groan because she knew that look. It was the same look he got right before buying something unnecessary, planning something ridiculous, or attempting to solve emotional problems with excessive amounts of romance.

—It's not bad,— he defended immediately.

He looked far too pleased with himself for someone whose race had ended in a retirement less than two hours ago.

Amelie immediately recognized the expression because it was the same one he wore whenever he had been secretly planning something for weeks and was waiting for the exact right moment to reveal it. Usually, that meant trouble. Expensive trouble. Occasionally very sweet trouble. Sometimes both.

—Lando,— she warned.

His smile somehow widened further.

That alone was enough to make Amelie immediately suspicious.

She shifted slightly on the couch, crossing her arms over her chest while studying him carefully, waiting for whatever ridiculous thing he was clearly trying to reveal. Outside the driver's room, the Monaco paddock continued moving through the final hours of Sunday, mechanics packing equipment, engineers heading toward debriefs, journalists chasing their final stories of the weekend. In here, however, it felt like the entire world had shrunk down to the two of them.

—Lando,— she repeated slowly. —What did you do?—

His grin softened into something smaller.

Something warmer.

For a moment he simply looked at her.

The frustration from the race was still there. The disappointment hadn't magically disappeared. But underneath it sat something he'd been looking forward to for weeks now, something that had absolutely nothing to do with Formula One and everything to do with her.

—I rented a yacht,— he admitted.

Amelie blinked once.

Then twice.

—You rented a yacht?—

—A small one.—

—We're in Monaco. I don't think "small yacht" is a real thing here.—

Lando laughed softly.

—Okay, fine. A yacht yacht.—

Amelie stared at him for another second before dropping her forehead dramatically against his shoulder.

—Of course you did.—

—That doesn't sound appreciative enough.—

—I'm appreciating it,— she mumbled against his shirt. —I'm just not surprised.—

Lando's hand slipped automatically into her hair, fingers brushing through the soft strands while she remained folded dramatically against him.

The truth was that he'd booked it almost a month ago.

Back when Monaco had still felt full of possibility. Back when he'd imagined leaving the circuit Sunday evening after a good result, disappearing onto the water with her for a few days before she flew to Vancouver. The weekend itself hadn't gone remotely according to plan, but the yacht was still there. The days were still there. More importantly, she was still there.

—It's only for a few days,— he explained quietly. —Before you leave.—

Amelie lifted her head immediately.

The movement was quick enough that a few strands of hair slipped free from behind her shoulders as she looked up at him properly, studying his face for a second longer than necessary. The teasing expression softened almost instantly when she realized he wasn't joking. Beneath the smile there was something else sitting there too. Hope, maybe. The kind that looked fragile after a weekend like this one.

—You rented a yacht,— she repeated again, this time quieter.

Lando nodded once.

His hand remained buried comfortably in her hair while his thumb traced absent circles against her shoulder, the simple contact grounding in a way he hadn't realized he needed until now. Outside the windows, Monaco continued carrying on with its usual impossible luxury, but suddenly he couldn't wait to get away from all of it.

—I wanted us to disappear for a few days,— he admitted. —Nothing dramatic. Just us. Before Vancouver steals you from me again.—

Amelie's expression softened immediately.

The words weren't dramatic. He hadn't meant them to be. But she understood what sat underneath them anyway. The last few months had been a constant cycle of airports, race weekends, filming schedules, red carpets, media obligations, and stolen days squeezed between commitments. They'd gotten very good at making distance work. Neither of them particularly enjoyed it.

—You make it sound like I'm being deployed overseas,— she said softly.

—You are going to Canada.—

—Vancouver isn't Mars, baby.—

—It's basically Mars when I'm in Europe.—

The answer earned a quiet laugh from her.

Lando smiled too, feeling some of the tension he'd carried since Sunday morning finally beginning to loosen properly. For the first time all weekend, Formula One felt far away.

—Anyway,— he continued. —The yacht is waiting. Which means technically we can leave right now.—

Amelie tilted her head.

—Right now?—

—Right now.—

His smile grew slightly.

—As in walk out of the paddock, walk home, grab some bags, and disappear onto a boat before anybody asks me another question about engine failures.—

Amelie visibly considered it for approximately half a second.

Then she nodded.

—That actually sounds perfect.—

Something warm settled inside his chest immediately.

Not because the plan was particularly complicated. Not because it involved Monaco or yachts or anything expensive. Simply because she looked genuinely excited about spending the next few days with him. After the weekend he'd had, that felt surprisingly important.

Lando leaned over and pressed a quick kiss against her forehead.

—Come on,— he said, standing and offering her a hand. —Let's go home.—

Amelie accepted it instantly.

Their fingers intertwined automatically as she stood, collecting her heels from beside the couch while Lando grabbed the forgotten backpack from the desk. The room suddenly felt temporary again, just another stop between wherever they'd been and wherever they were going next.

As they headed toward the door together, Lando found himself smiling once more.

The weekend had been awful.

The result was terrible.

The championship wasn't getting any easier.

But in a few hours they'd be watching Monaco disappear behind them from the deck of a yacht somewhere in the harbor, and for the first time all day that felt like enough.

--------------

liked by monacofan, loveroflan, and others

lanmelieupdates: Lando and Amelie spotted leaving the Monaco Grand Prix before the race had even finished 🏁💔

View all 392 comments

papayagirl: this makes me so sad 😭 → loveroflan: monaco really said "not today"

ameliecore: the arm around her 🥹 → goldenhouramelie: he's the one who had the bad day and he's still holding her close → softamelie: stop i'm emotional

fanameliee: leaving before the race is even over must feel awful 😭

sunsetamelie: at least he gets to go home immediately instead of sitting around for hours 😭 → goldenhouramelie: silver lining → softclouds: monaco resident perks

papayadreams: i know he was devastated inside 😭 → loveroflan: you could see it on his face after the DNF → lanmeliehub: absolutely heartbreaking

amelievibes: the way she's always there after the bad days too 🥹 → cherryvibes: that's what i noticed → dreamygirlie: not just the wins

lanfan44: monaco giveth and monaco taketh away 😭 → papayaprincess: mostly taketh lately → loveroflan: unfortunately

softamelie: the contrast between them arriving all happy on thursday and leaving like this 😭 → goldenhouramelie: racing is brutal → sunsetamelie: highest highs and lowest lows

ameliecentral: people underestimate how nice it probably is to have your person there after something like this → cherryvibes: exactly

papayagirl: charlie is about to have the most spoiled evening of his life 😭 → loveroflan: emotional support golden retriever incoming → lanmeliehub: working overtime tonight

fanameliee: i'm crying because they were probably planning a whole sunday evening after the race too 😭 → goldenhouramelie: don't make it worse → softamelie: ouch 😭

sunflowermelie: she looks sad for him 😭 → cherryvibes: that's what got me too

f1fairytale: i know the apartment is like 5 minutes away but that walk must've felt so long 😭 → lovergirlie: exactly → paddockangel: saddest commute ever

midnightamelie: honestly respect for leaving and protecting his peace → velvetroses: agreed → starrylan: no point forcing yourself to stay

coastalgirlie: "at least he didn't have to make that walk alone" okay who wrote that because now i'm crying 😭 → moonlightvibes: SAME

goldenpapaya: somewhere max fewtrell is already showing up at that apartment with snacks 😭 → cherrysoda: and unsolicited life advice → lanmeliefever: best friend duties activated

raceweekendd: she was there for the podiums and she's there for the DNFs too 🥹 → cherryvibes: that's the important part → dreamygirlie: exactly ❤️

papayagirl: i just know the first thing she said was probably "do you want food?" 😭 → loveroflan: universal love language

sunsetracing: honestly i'd be in bed with the curtains closed within 15 minutes 😭 → racegirlie: same → papayastan: nobody would hear from me for a week

monacogirl: the worst part is that he was probably looking forward to this race all year 💔 → paddockvibes: exactly

orangeera: people forget drivers are human sometimes 😭 → sunsetracing: imagine disappointing yourself in front of your entire hometown → monacofan: brutal sport

lan4life: charlie about to get approximately 17 extra walks tonight 😭 → dogmomera: emotional support duties

f1angel: not to be dramatic but the photo hurts 😭 → racegirlie: not dramatic enough actually → papayastan: i felt pain immediately

gridgirlie: at least he can be miserable in his own apartment and not a hotel 😭

mclarenbaby: i know he's replaying the whole thing in his head already 😭 → paddockvibes: drivers never stop doing that → orangeera: probably every single lap too

paddockangel: one thing about amelie is she's there after the good races and the bad ones 🥹

formulaheart: imagine hearing the race still going on outside while you're already home 😭 → monacogirl: STOP THAT'S SO SAD

gridupdates: monaco is either magical or absolutely evil → paddockvibes: there is no middle ground → orangeera: never has been

f1babe: i just know their apartment is full of flowers from race week too 😭 → monacofan: now i'm sad

landoforever: honestly respect for not forcing a smile for cameras → papayastan: agreed → formulaheart: sometimes you just need to leave

papayarules: somewhere max fewtrell is texting "u alive?" every 10 minutes 😭

monacostan: the marina in the background and then this ending 💔 → sunsetracing: movie-level sadness → racegirlie: genuinely

gridgirlie: amelie probably already ordered his favorite takeout before they got home 😭 → papayastan: girlfriend instincts → formulaheart: honestly likely

orangeera: the way she always walks at his pace when he's upset 🥹 → paddockangel: i noticed that too

lan4life: tomorrow the internet will move on but i know he's gonna think about this one for a while 💔 → racegirlie: unfortunately → monacostan: that's racing

f1lover44: "bad day at the office" except your office is the monaco grand prix 😭

formulaheart: hoping he takes a day off, hangs out with charlie, and forgets social media exists 😭 → paddockvibes: best recovery plan honestly → monacofan: fully support this agenda ❤️

--------------

The apartment felt impossibly calm compared to the chaos of the paddock they had left behind barely an hour earlier.

The evening sunlight had long since faded from the floor-to-ceiling windows, leaving the harbor outside painted in soft blues and golds from the lights reflecting across the water. Somewhere below, Monaco continued doing what Monaco always did after a Grand Prix weekend. Restaurants overflowed with people celebrating. Drivers disappeared into parties. Music drifted from yachts anchored throughout the harbor. The entire principality seemed determined to stay awake.

Inside the apartment, however, none of that existed.

Top Gun played quietly on the television while dinner containers were spread across the coffee table and half the couch cushions. Charlie had abandoned any attempt at dignity nearly twenty minutes ago and was currently sprawled across the gap between them with all four legs stretched out dramatically, one of his toys trapped beneath his paws while he continuously monitored every bite of food either human attempted to eat.

Lando sat slouched comfortably into the corner of the sofa.

His McLaren team kit remained unchanged from earlier, the dark papaya shirt slightly wrinkled now after several hours of wearing it. One leg stretched out across the couch while the other rested against the coffee table, socks replacing race boots and making him look considerably less like a Formula One driver and considerably more like a man who had absolutely no intention of leaving the apartment again tonight.

Beside him, Amelie looked equally settled.

She had changed immediately after arriving home, abandoning race weekend fashion in favor of faded jeans, an oversized crewneck, and absolutely no shoes. Her legs were tucked beneath her while she balanced a plate against her lap, blonde hair loosely tied back after finally escaping the paddock. The entire look radiated comfort.

Lando thought she somehow looked prettier like this.

Not that he was planning on telling her that.

The last time he had made that mistake she had spent three weeks stealing his hoodies because apparently he preferred her in "comfortable clothes."

—You're staring again,— Amelie informed him without looking away from the television.

Lando immediately looked innocent.

Lando immediately adopted the expression of a man being falsely accused of a terrible crime.

The performance would've been considerably more convincing if she hadn't caught him doing exactly that at least three separate times over dinner already. Across the television screen, fighter jets were doing something extremely dramatic that neither of them had paid attention to for the last five minutes because their conversation had become significantly more entertaining than the movie.

—I wasn't staring,— Lando replied.

—You were absolutely staring,— Amelie replied immediately.

She didn't even bother looking away from the television while she said it, which somehow made the accusation significantly more annoying. Across the couch, Charlie took advantage of the distraction by extending one paw toward Lando's dinner container with the confidence of someone who had never once faced consequences in his life.

Lando caught the paw before it reached the food.

—And you're raising a criminal,— he informed her.

—He's exploring opportunities,— Amelie corrected.

Charlie looked deeply offended by the interruption of his business ventures.

The puppy let out a dramatic sigh before collapsing further across the cushions, somehow managing to occupy even more space than before. His toy rolled away from his paws and disappeared beneath the coffee table, immediately forgotten now that food remained available within a reasonable distance.

The puppy's failure as a criminal lasted approximately four seconds before he immediately attempted another operation.

Charlie stretched his neck dramatically toward Lando's plate again, convinced persistence would eventually overcome human resistance. Unfortunately for him, Lando had already learned that lesson months ago. One hand caught the puppy gently beneath the chin and redirected him away from the food without even looking down from the television.

—Nice try,— Lando informed him.

Charlie looked betrayed.

The expression would've been more convincing if he hadn't been caught attempting theft three separate times during dinner already.

Charlie let out a small huff of protest before immediately abandoning his dignity altogether.

The puppy shifted positions until nearly half his body was draped across Lando's lap, one paw hanging dramatically over his leg while his eyes remained locked on the food container with unwavering determination. If somebody had walked into the apartment at that exact moment, they would've assumed Charlie hadn't eaten in weeks instead of approximately forty-five minutes ago.

—You're encouraging him,— Lando complained while nudging the puppy's nose away from his food again.

—I'm literally sitting over here doing nothing,— Amelie replied.

—Exactly. That's encouragement.—

Amelie laughed, finally glancing away from the television long enough to look at the two of them.

Charlie immediately noticed.

The puppy's tail thumped once against the couch cushion as if he believed maternal intervention might finally secure him a piece of dinner. Unfortunately for him, Amelie merely pointed toward his own bowl visible in the kitchen.

—Don't look at me,— she informed him. —You already had dinner.—

Charlie stared at her for several long seconds as if carefully evaluating whether the situation could still be negotiated.

When it became painfully obvious that neither human intended to surrender any portion of their dinner, he let out another dramatic sigh before collapsing fully across Lando's lap. The movement was so exaggerated that both of them immediately started laughing.

—You've made him impossible,— Lando informed her while absentmindedly scratching behind the puppy's ears.

—He's learning from the best,— Amelie replied.

The accusation had barely left Amelie's mouth when the apartment's doorbell rang.

The sound cut cleanly through the comfortable atmosphere of the living room, loud enough that both of them immediately looked toward the entrance.

For a second neither moved.

Top Gun continued playing in the background while Charlie lifted his head from Lando's lap with the alert expression of a puppy who firmly believed every visitor existed exclusively to see him. Outside, the harbor lights glittered through the windows. Inside, confusion settled over the couch.

Amelie frowned immediately.

The confusion lasted all of two seconds before she glanced toward the clock mounted on the wall and then back toward Lando again. Neither of them had been expecting anyone. Most of the people they knew were either still trapped at the circuit, already drunk somewhere in Monaco, or fully aware that they planned to disappear later that night.

—Are you expecting somebody?— she asked.

Lando looked just as confused.

One hand remained absentmindedly scratching Charlie's ears while the puppy continued staring hopefully at the abandoned dinner containers.

—No,— he replied. —Unless Zak's decided to personally deliver more disappointment about my race weekend, which feels excessive even for him.—

The accusation earned an immediate snort from Amelie, but before either of them could speculate any further, the doorbell rang a second time.

Amelie stared toward the entrance for another second before letting out a small sigh and carefully setting her plate down on the coffee table.

Charlie immediately interpreted the movement as an opportunity.

The puppy launched himself forward with shocking speed, already stretching toward the abandoned food container before Lando caught him around the middle with one arm and dragged him backward. Charlie looked personally victimized by the intervention.

—Don't even think about it,— Lando warned.

The puppy ignored him completely.

Amelie rolled her eyes fondly at both of them before pushing herself off the couch. Bare feet disappeared against the hardwood floor as she crossed the living room, the oversized crewneck hanging loosely around her frame while the doorbell echoed for a third time.

Whoever stood outside was apparently not interested in patience.

—If it's another journalist, I'm pretending I don't live here,— Lando called after her.

—You already pretend you don't live here whenever somebody asks you to clean the kitchen,— Amelie replied over her shoulder.

Lando opened his mouth to defend himself.

Nothing came out.

Mostly because she wasn't wrong.

The apartment remained quiet except for the television and Charlie's continued attempts to negotiate access to dinner while Amelie reached the entrance. She unlocked the door, still frowning slightly, and pulled it open only a few inches.

That was a mistake.

The second the lock clicked free, the door flew inward.

Amelie barely had enough time to step sideways before a whirlwind named Arthur Leclerc burst into the apartment like he'd been personally launched from the harbor.

—Guys, you are not going to believe who got access to the upper deck because apparently someone knows someone and now there's this whole thing happening and Charles said no because Charles always says no but Alexandra might come later and...—

Arthur finally stopped talking long enough to actually look around the apartment.

The words died in his throat almost immediately.

For the first time since barging through the front door without permission, he seemed to notice what was happening around him.

Top Gun played quietly in the background.

Dinner containers covered the coffee table.

Charlie was sprawled across Lando's lap like he'd personally paid rent.

Amelie stood barefoot near the entrance wearing faded jeans and an oversized crewneck.

Lando was still sitting on the couch in his McLaren shirt, one hand resting on the puppy while the other held a fork he apparently hadn't bothered putting down.

The entire scene looked aggressively domestic.

Arthur stood completely still in the middle of the apartment.

For perhaps the first time in his entire life, he seemed genuinely speechless.

His eyes moved slowly from Amelie standing barefoot by the entrance, to Charlie stretched across Lando's lap like he owned the property, to the collection of takeout containers covering the coffee table, and finally to Top Gun playing quietly on the television. The entire scene looked less like two of the most chaotic people Arthur knew and more like a couple who spent weekends comparing mortgage rates.

The horror on his face grew with every second.

Lando noticed immediately.

Unfortunately for Arthur, that only made him start laughing.

—Why do you look traumatized?— Lando asked, leaning further into the couch while Charlie attempted another subtle operation toward the abandoned food.

Arthur looked personally offended.

Not annoyed. Not confused. Genuinely offended, as if he'd just walked into the apartment and discovered a crime taking place in real time.

His gaze swept across the room once more, lingering on every detail like he was collecting evidence. The movie. The takeout containers. Charlie practically asleep across Lando's lap. Amelie standing barefoot near the entrance. The fact that neither of them looked remotely interested in leaving the apartment.

The expression on his face became increasingly horrified.

—What is this?— Arthur demanded.

Lando glanced around the living room.

—Our apartment?—

—No,— Arthur said immediately. —This. Whatever this is.—

He pointed dramatically toward the couch.

—You two look forty-five years old.—

Amelie blinked.

—Excuse me?—

Arthur ignored her completely.

He continued staring at the scene in front of him like somebody witnessing a tragic accident unfold in slow motion. The more he looked, the more distressed he seemed to become.

—You're watching Top Gun.—

—It's a good movie,— Lando defended.

—You're eating takeout.—

—Also good,— Amelie added.

Arthur pointed at Charlie.

—The dog is literally between you like you've been married for fifteen years.—

Charlie lifted his head briefly at the sound of being included in the conversation before immediately deciding it wasn't important and settling back onto Lando's lap.

The puppy's complete lack of concern somehow made Arthur even more upset.

Amelie slowly closed the apartment door behind her before turning to face him properly, arms folding across her chest while she tried not to laugh.

—Why are you acting like you've caught us committing tax fraud?—

—Because this is worse.—

Lando started laughing.

Arthur looked genuinely serious.

That somehow made it funnier.

—No, listen to me,— Arthur continued, walking further into the apartment while gesturing wildly with both hands. —You two are supposed to be fun. You're supposed to be the people convincing everyone else to do stupid things at three in the morning. You're supposed to be causing problems.—

His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

—Instead I find you eating dinner and watching movies.—

Arthur looked at both of them like he had just uncovered a deeply concerning secret.

The silence stretched for a moment while he stood in the middle of the living room, visibly trying to process the fact that Monaco Grand Prix Sunday night was happening outside and somehow Lando Norris and Amelie were voluntarily spending it on a couch with takeout and a movie.

Amelie finally walked back toward the sofa.

—You're being dramatic,— she informed him while reclaiming her spot beside Lando.

Arthur immediately pointed at her.

—No. Charles is dramatic. This is different. This is an intervention.—

Lando laughed again, shaking his head while Charlie instantly took advantage of Amelie's return to stretch himself even further across the cushions. Somehow the puppy now occupied portions of both their seats despite being significantly smaller than either of them.

Arthur watched the scene unfold with growing disbelief.

The way Amelie automatically tucked her legs beneath herself. The way Lando casually draped an arm across the back of the couch behind her. The way Charlie had positioned himself exactly between them while still demanding attention from both sides.

It was disgustingly comfortable.

Arthur hated it.

—Look at yourselves,— he complained. —You don't even look like real people anymore. You look like a couple in a furniture catalog.—

Arthur pointed dramatically toward the television again before dragging one hand through his hair, looking genuinely distressed by the situation unfolding in front of him.

—Do you know what normal people are doing right now?— he demanded. —They're at parties. They're on boats. They're making questionable decisions that they'll regret tomorrow morning. Monaco is literally overflowing with free alcohol and poor judgment right now, and somehow I walk into this apartment and find the two of you discussing fighter jets and sharing spring rolls with a dog.—

Lando opened his mouth to defend himself, but Arthur was already moving again, pacing slowly across the living room like a lawyer preparing his closing argument. The energy radiating off him was ridiculous enough that even Amelie had stopped pretending she wasn't entertained. Charlie, meanwhile, watched Arthur's movements for approximately three seconds before deciding they had nothing to do with food and immediately lost interest.

—No, seriously,— Arthur continued, pointing between them. —When did this happen? When did you become these people? Because I distinctly remember both of you being absolute nightmares to manage after midnight. I remember entire summers where nobody knew where you were. I remember nights ending with somebody losing a shoe, somebody getting banned from somewhere, and somebody else waking up on a boat they didn't remember boarding.—

Amelie immediately covered her face with one hand.

—That happened one time.—

—The fact that you know exactly which story I'm talking about proves my point,— Arthur shot back.

Lando's shoulders started shaking with laughter beside her.

Unfortunately, Arthur noticed.

—And don't laugh,— he continued, turning toward Lando. —You're even worse. Do you know what I found when I walked in? A man sitting in his team kit watching Top Gun with his girlfriend and his dog. Do you understand how aggressively domestic that image is?—

Lando glanced down at Charlie.

Charlie glanced back.

The puppy looked perfectly happy with the arrangement.

—I don't see the problem,— Lando admitted.

Arthur looked personally offended.

The reaction was so dramatic that Amelie nearly laughed again.

Outside the windows, Monaco glittered beneath the night sky. Music drifted faintly from the harbor below while yachts glowed across the water like floating cities. The entire principality was alive with post-race celebrations, and somehow Arthur seemed incapable of accepting that two people in their twenties might voluntarily choose a couch over chaos.

—The problem,— Arthur said slowly, as though explaining something to children, —is that you're both young, rich, famous, attractive, and living in Monaco. Do you understand how statistically insane it is that you're spending tonight like somebody's parents?—

The laughter that escaped Lando this time was impossible to stop.

Even Amelie couldn't keep a straight face anymore.

The problem was that Arthur wasn't entirely wrong. Somewhere along the way, life had become schedules, flights, filming locations, race calendars, sponsor commitments, and trying to squeeze entire relationships into the spaces between obligations. A quiet night on the couch had started feeling luxurious in a way parties never quite did anymore.

—You two used to be fun,— he continued dramatically. —Not normal fun. Unhinged fun. The kind of fun that made everybody else nervous. And now look at you. You're spending Monaco Grand Prix Sunday discussing tiramisu orders and watching movies with a dog.—

Charlie lifted his head at the sound of "dog."

Arthur pointed at him too.

—And he's not helping.—

Charlie wagged his tail.

Traitor.

--------------

liked by f1babe, lanmeliehub, and others

f1gossipdaily: Lando Norris and Amelie Dayman spotted enjoying a night out in Monaco following today's Grand Prix 🍾✨

View all 1,043 comments

papayagirl: not lando holding onto her like someone was about to steal her 😭 → loveroflan: bro was guarding the perimeter → lanmeliehub: security level MAXIMUM

ameliecore: meanwhile jake shane is literally standing right next to them 😭 → goldenhouramelie: free jake from witnessing this → softamelie: accidental third wheel

fanameliee: jake in the background like 🧍 → cherryvibes: just trying to enjoy his night

sunsetamelie: "nobody is taking her from me" ahh hug 😭 → goldenhouramelie: possessive for no reason → softclouds: she's literally his girlfriend 😭

papayadreams: the way his face is hidden in her neck 😭 → loveroflan: man needed emotional support → lanmeliehub: post-DNF recovery program

amelievibes: jake watching them like he's trapped in a romance movie 😭

fanpageamelie: after the race he had today i'd probably be attached to my girlfriend too 😭 → goldenhouramelie: honestly fair → softamelie: i'd be worse

lanfan44: not him holding her waist with BOTH arms 😭 → papayaprincess: making sure she's not escaping → loveroflan: bro said mine

softamelie: jake shane accidentally becoming part of lanmelie lore 😭 → goldenhouramelie: he can't keep getting away with this

ameliecentral: the funniest part is that amelie looks completely unbothered 😭 → cherryvibes: she's used to it → dreamygirlie: this is a normal tuesday for her

papayagirl: jake standing there while these two recreate a taylor swift song 😭 → loveroflan: screaming → lanmeliehub: he deserves compensation

sunflowermelie: i know someone made a joke and lando tightened the hug immediately 😭 → goldenhouramelie: 100%

f1fairytale: "you are not leaving my sight tonight" energy 😭 → lovergirlie: exactly → paddockangel: not after today

midnightamelie: the race ended hours ago and he's still emotionally processing 😭

coastalgirlie: jake's perspective was probably just 🧍🧍 → moonlightvibes: awkwardly looking away → raceweekendd: pretending not to notice 😭

goldenpapaya: imagine trying to have a conversation and your friend is attached to his girlfriend like a koala 😭 → cherrysoda: impossible task

raceweekendd: lando really said "i lost the race but i'm keeping this one" 😭 → cherryvibes: STOPPPP → dreamygirlie: that's actually cute 😭

papayagirl: someone crop jake out and someone else crop ONLY jake in 😭

ameliecore: jake standing there while lando is having his own personal romcom scene 😭 → goldenhouramelie: witness protection program needed → softamelie: free my man jake

sunsetamelie: the way he looks happier here than in half his race win photos 😭 → goldenhouramelie: oop → softclouds: you said it not me 😭

papayadreams: i just know max fewtrell saw this photo and rolled his eyes immediately 😭 → loveroflan: professional hater

moonlightpapaya: lando holding onto her like rent was due at midnight 😭 → racegirlie: BRO WAS NOT LETTING GO

f1teaaccount: jake shane witnessing all this like he accidentally joined a couple's vacation 😭 → papayastan: third wheeling against his will

gridchaos: the way he's literally folded into her neck 😭 → sunsetracing: emotional support position → monacofan: standard procedure

lovergirlie: i know jake was texting someone "you are NOT gonna believe what i'm looking at right now" → dreamygirlie: live updates every 30 seconds → cherryvibes: photographic evidence attached 😭

formulaheart: lando acting like she might disappear if he blinks 😭 → paddockangel: separation anxiety king

papayagirl: not him hugging her like the race result personally offended him 😭 → loveroflan: because it did → lanmeliehub: and she's the cure apparently

goldenpapaya: jake in the background looking like an npc in their love story 😭 → cherrysoda: accidental guest star

f1babe: "nobody's taking her from me" and meanwhile literally nobody was trying 😭 → racegirlie: imaginary competition

softamelie: i just know he was talking directly into her shoulder and nobody could hear a word 😭 → goldenhouramelie: secret drunk conversations

monacostan: jake standing there like 🧍 while lando is having a romcom moment 😭 → orangeera: wrong place wrong time → papayastan: poor guy

gridgirlie: the fact they're dancing like this in public and still somehow forget cameras exist 😭 → raceweekendd: that's what gets me → moonlightvibes: they're in their own universe

f1lover44: someone check if jake got home safely after being subjected to this 😭

sunsetracing: lando's love language is apparently becoming a backpack 😭 → racegirlie: koala mode activated → orangeera: level 100 clinginess

papayadreams: he really said "bad race, good girlfriend" 😭 → loveroflan: balance restored

formulaheart: i know max fewtrell opened instagram, saw this, sighed, and closed the app 😭 → paddockangel: daily suffering → raceweekendd: occupational hazard

ameliecore: imagine trying to pull lando away for a conversation 😭 → goldenhouramelie: impossible challenge

fanameliee: the funniest part is amelie looks completely normal while he's attached to her 😭 → cherryvibes: she's adapted → dreamygirlie: years of experience

monacogirl: somewhere charlie is at home wondering where his favorite clingy person went 😭

gridupdates: jake shane accidentally becoming the "guy in the background" meme 😭 → paddockvibes: iconic status achieved → orangeera: internet legend

papayagirl: if i had a dollar for every photo of lando hiding in amelie's shoulder i'd be rich 😭

sunflowermelie: the body language experts are about to work overtime with this one 😭 → goldenhouramelie: 45-minute tiktok analysis incoming → softclouds: narrated powerpoint presentation 😭

raceweekendd: not him acting like she's about to get drafted by another team 😭 → cherryvibes: transfer market anxiety

--------------

The party had long since reached that point where time stopped making sense.

Lando honestly couldn't remember how many drinks he'd had anymore.

Not because he was completely gone, but because somewhere around the third location, second group of people, and approximately fifteenth conversation, counting had stopped feeling important. Monaco glittered around them beneath a sky full of lights, music spilling across terraces and yachts while people moved from one celebration to another without ever seeming to run out of energy.

At some point during the evening, he had lost the ability to tell whether Arthur was the best friend in the world or the worst influence alive.

Possibly both.

The answer seemed to change every twenty minutes.

Right now, however, leaning against the railing of a crowded harbor-side terrace with Amelie tucked against his side and a drink he didn't remember ordering in his hand, Lando was leaning heavily toward gratitude.

Because whatever this was, it was the most alive he had felt in weeks.

Amelie was pressed against him in a way that made it almost impossible to tell where she ended and he began, her laughter spilling out in soft bursts every time someone nearby said something even remotely funny. Her hair had loosened from earlier, strands falling across her face in a way she kept brushing back with slow, distracted movements that didn’t quite coordinate anymore. There was lipstick slightly smudged at the corner of her mouth, and every time he noticed it, he got briefly distracted all over again.

He had kissed her there earlier.

He was pretty sure he’d kissed her everywhere earlier.

He also had no idea when “earlier” had been.

—You’re staring again,— Amelie murmured, her voice soft but amused as she tilted her head slightly toward him.

Lando blinked slowly, like it took effort to restart his brain.

—I’m not staring,— he replied, immediately unconvincing even to himself.

Amelie smiled into her drink, taking a small sip before leaning even closer, her shoulder bumping gently into his chest as if she had absolutely no intention of giving him any space back.

—You are absolutely staring,— she said again, calmer this time, like she was delivering a fact rather than teasing him.

He let out a short laugh, one hand sliding instinctively to her waist just to make sure she stayed exactly where she was.

Around them, the party kept moving in waves. Someone cheered near the bar. A group of people sang badly to a remix Lando vaguely recognized. Cameras flashed somewhere off to the side, not close enough to feel like a direct attack, but close enough that he was aware of them in a way he didn’t want to think too hard about.

Lando could feel the phones pointing at them directly, the lenses reflecting the ambient club lights as people tried to capture a glimpse of them together, but he actually couldn’t care less. The outside world had completely blurred into background noise, utterly eclipsed by the sensation of Amelie’s hips moving in a slow, subconscious rhythm right against his growing crotch. The friction through their clothes was sending a heavy, persistent ache straight to his lower stomach, and the alcohol in his system only made his possessive grip on her waist tighten.

In one sudden moment, the physical tension seemed to catch up to her; Amelie’s head fell back, landing heavily against Lando’s shoulder as a soft, breathless sigh escaped her lips.

Lando didn't hesitate. He guided one of his hands up from her waist, his palm cupping her cheek as his thumb traced her jawline, gently turning her head slightly so she was forced to look up at him. He leaned down and kissed her hard, a deep, bruising claim that completely silenced the thumping bass of the music around them. His tongue tangled with hers with a sudden, localized hunger, erasing any lingering doubt about where his mind was.

The moment they pulled back, the air between them felt thick and charged, their chests rising and falling in sync as the heavy bass of the Monaco track continued to vibrate through the floorboards beneath their feet. They kept moving, their bodies locked together in a slow, swaying dance that felt entirely too intimate for a crowded terrace, completely oblivious to the flashing phone screens around them.

Amelie shifted slightly, leaning in until her lips were brushing the shell of his ear, her breath hot against his skin as she whispered over the roar of the music.

—Is there a bathroom nearby? Like, a private one?—

Lando blinked, his brow pulling together in a flash of drunken, sleep-deprived confusion. He thought they were just having a sweet, romantic moment under the stars, grounding each other amidst the chaos of the party. He pulled back just enough to look down into her heavy, hooded eyes, his hand flattening against her lower back.

—What? Why, are you feeling okay? Do you need water or something?— he asked, his voice laced with genuine, protective concern.

Amelie let out a soft, breathless laugh at his cluelessness, her hands sliding down his chest to grip the fabric of his shirt, tugging him down until her lips were almost grazing his jawline again. Her eyes were dark, dilated, and filled with a fierce, unmistakable hunger that had absolutely nothing to do with being sick.

—I’m fine, Lan,— she murmured, her voice a low, dangerous thread that sent a violent jolt of adrenaline straight to his crotch. —I just really, really need you right now. In a room with a locked door. Please.—

Lando’s entire body went rigid as her words clicked in his alcohol-fogged brain. The confusion vanished instantly, replaced by a dark, predatory focus that made his jaw lock. He didn't say another word. He gripped her hand tightly, his fingers lacing through hers as he immediately turned away from the railing, scanning the crowded terrace for the VIP corridor he knew led to the back of the venue.

Phones were still tracing their movements, but Lando was already moving with a fast, purposeful stride, pulling her along right behind him as the hunt for a locked door officially began.

Lando moved with a fast, purposeful stride through the crowded VIP corridor, his grip on Amelie’s hand unyielding as he pulled her past a few lingering partygoers. He finally spotted the door marked for the private bathrooms at the end of the hall. Relief flared in his chest, but the moment he reached out and rattled the brass handle, it didn't budge.

Locked.

—Fuck,— Lando muttered under his breath, his jaw tightening.

He stepped closer, pressing his ear directly against the solid wood to see if they were just about to come out. Instead, the unmistakable sound of muffled giggles, frantic rustling, and a low, heavy groan drifted through the paneling. Someone else had clearly gotten the exact same idea first and claimed the space for themselves.

Lando let out a heavy, frustrated sigh, rolling his eyes as he pulled back. He kept walking down the narrow hallway, his eyes scanning the walls for any other door, any closet, or any private office that might have a lock. But there was nothing—just blank walls and emergency exits.

—Nothing,— Lando muttered, running a hand through his curls as he stopped at the end of the hall. He turned back to Amelie, his eyes dark and completely full of frustration. —Someone’s definitely having a good time in there. There’s literally no other doors.—

Amelie leaned her back against the wall, a soft, whiny groan escaping her as her fingers tugged at the front of his shirt. Her eyes were hazy, a heavy, drunken pout on her lips. —Lan… I’m going crazy. We can’t just go back to the terrace.—

Lando’s heart hammered against his ribs, the alcohol and the friction from earlier making his thoughts spin. He looked at her flushed cheeks, his gaze dropping to her lips before he made a sudden, reckless decision.

—Come on. We’re leaving,— he said, his voice dropping into a low, determined register.

He gripped her hand firmly, turning on his heel and walking straight toward the exit. They broke through the heavy glass doors of the club, stepping out into the cool, salt-tinged Monaco night air. Both of them were completely drunk, their steps a little uncoordinated and giggly as they stumbled away from the thumping bass of the terrace.

Thank goodness the club was right on the edge of the marina. The harbor stretched out in front of them, a maze of multimillion-dollar vessels gently bobbing on the black water, their polished white decks gleaming under the dock lights.

Lando didn't even hesitate. He led her down the concrete ramp of the dock, their footsteps echoing slightly in the open night air. They stumbled past a few massive, gated yachts until they reached a sleek, triple-deck vessel that looked completely dark. The gangway was down, left unattended by a crew that was probably asleep or partying somewhere else in town.

—Lan, wait…— Amelie giggled, a bit breathlessly as she tried to balance in her heels, her hand gripping his forearm tight. —Is this… whose boat is this?—

—No idea,— Lando muttered, a wicked, completely reckless grin breaking across his face. The alcohol in his system was doing all the thinking now, entirely erasing his usual awareness of cameras or security. —But the doors are open, and there’s no one on deck. Come on.—

They were doing something completely illegal, a total trespass that would make his PR manager have a literal heart attack, but neither of them cared. They were too drunk, too flushed, and in such a desperate need to have sex that the risk only made the adrenaline under their skin burn hotter.

Lando pulled her up the gangway, his hand firmly anchoring her waist as they slipped past the darkened aft deck and pulled open the heavy sliding glass door. It was unlocked. They stepped into the interior salon, the smell of expensive leather, polished wood, and premium air conditioning wrapping around them instantly.

The yacht was dead silent, the only sound the faint, deep hum of the generators below. Holding her close, Lando guided her down a set of winding, carpeted stairs into the lower deck, his hands fumbling along the wood paneling in the dark until he pushed open a set of double doors.

The master stateroom opened up before them, dominated by a massive, plush king-sized bed covered in crisp, white linens that caught the ambient light from the harbor through the portholes.

The second the door clicked shut behind them, Lando didn't wait to find a light switch. He spun Amelie around, his back hitting the stateroom door as he yanked her flush against his chest, his mouth crashing down onto hers in a messy, furious collision of teeth and hunger.

Amelie let out a loud, needy moan into his mouth, her arms immediately wrapping tightly around his neck, her fingers tangling in his messy curls. She kicked her heels off, letting them clatter against the carpeted floor as she arched her body into his, her hips pressing hard against his growing hardness.

—God, Ames,— Lando rasped against her lips, his breathing already a ragged, panicked wreck in the dark room. —I need you so bad. Right now.—

—Then stop talking,— she breathed, her hands frantically tearing at the buttons of his shirt. —Just fuck me, Lan.—

Lando didn’t need to be told twice. He shucked the unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall into the darkness of the unknown stateroom. His bare chest was heaving, muscles corded with a desperate tension as the cool air conditioning of the yacht hit his skin.

Amelie didn't let him breathe for even a second. She dropped her lips back to his skin, tracing a searing path down from his jaw, over his collarbone, and down the center of his chest.

—You’re so hot, Lan… god, I can’t handle it,— she murmured against his skin, her breath warm and shallow against his stomach.

She kept sliding down, her hands smoothing over his sides for balance until her knees finally hit the thick, plush carpet of the master bedroom. She stayed there, kneeling right at his feet in the silver moonlight filtering through the porthole. She tilted her head back, her wild blonde curls spilling over her shoulders as she looked up at him with that wide, deceptively innocent stare that she knew completely controlled him.

Lando loomed over her in the dark, his breath coming in jagged, heavy thuds. His hands instinctively found the top of her head, his fingers tangling firmly into her hair, not pulling, but anchoring her there. His eyes were dark, his pupils completely dilated as he looked down at her at his mercy.

—You look so fucking perfect on your knees for me, Ames,— Lando rasped, his voice dropping into that low, gritty command that made her entire body shudder. —Look at you. Such a good girl, doing exactly what you're told.—

Amelie let out a soft, needy whimper at the praise, her lips curving into a breathless, submissive smile. She didn't say a word, completely under his spell as she guided her hands up to the waistband of his jeans. Her fingers were a little shaky from the alcohol and the frantic adrenaline, but she managed to undo the button, the metallic snap sounding incredibly loud in the silent yacht.

Lando’s grip in her hair tightened just a fraction, his knuckles grazing the nape of her neck as he watched her slowly lower the zipper, revealing exactly how hard and desperate he already was just from the sight of her down there.

—Open them for me, baby,— Lando commanded quietly, his jaw locking as he looked down at her face. —Let me see how much you want it.—

Amelie didn't hesitate. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of his jeans and boxers together, pulling them down his legs in one smooth, eager motion. Lando stepped out of his shoes and kicked the denim away, standing completely bare before her in the silver light of the cabin.

She wrapped her fingers around the thick, pulsing length of him, her palm cool against his searing heat. Slowly, deliberately, she began to stroke him up and down. Her thumb grazed the top with a rhythmic, teasing pressure, and Lando’s hips hitched forward instinctively, a sharp, jagged gasp escaping his lips.

He stood there for a few torturous seconds, his eyes closed tight, his head resting back against the stateroom door as her hand drove him absolutely insane. The sheer friction of her skin against his was too much to take.

Lando’s hand shot down, his fingers wrapping firmly over hers to stop the movement. He didn't pull her hand away; instead, he gripped his dick himself, guiding the hard, heavy weight of it directly against her parted lips.

—Open up for me, Ames,— he commanded, his voice a dark, gravelly friction that vibrated in the quiet room. —Take it. I want those pretty lips to use right now.—

Amelie looked up at him through her lashes, her eyes dark and completely submissive, before she opened her mouth and let him slide inside.

Lando let out a long, broken groan that sounded like a prayer, his fingers instantly tangling deep into her blonde hair to hold her steady. Amelie closed her eyes and began to move her head up and down in a slow, relentless rhythm, her hands sliding to his thighs to anchor herself. The wet, suffocating heat of her mouth swallowed him whole, completely erasing the alcohol fog and replacing it with a white-hot, localized hunger.

—Fuck… yeah, just like that,— Lando choked out, his jaw locking so tight it ached as he used his grip in her hair to gently guide her pace. —You’re so fucking good at this, baby. Such a good girl for me.—

Amelie didn’t slow down. Even as the depth of his thickness forced a small, strained gag from the back of her throat and made her eyes water in the silver light, her dedication to him was absolute. She kept moving her head in that relentless, wet rhythm, her lips sealed tightly around him as she let out a muffled, vibrating hum that vibrated straight through his core.

Lando’s hands tightened in her blonde hair, his knuckles white as he forced his own hips to stay perfectly still against the stateroom door. He was fighting a losing battle against his own restraint, his chest heaving violently in the quiet cabin as he tried to keep from thrusting forward and hurting her.

—Fuck, Ames… breathe, baby,— he rasped, his voice a broken, gravelly scrape as he looked down at her. —You’re choking on it… so fucking good for me.—

But then his eyes tracked downward in the shadows. He noticed her free hand had slipped between her own thighs, her fingers moving in a fast, frantic rhythm against her center, completely desperate for her own release while she took care of him.

The sight of her pleasuring herself while kneeling at his feet completely snapped whatever remained of Lando’s control.

—Oh, no you don’t,— Lando growled, his voice dropping into a dark, dominant vibration.

He gently but firmly gripped her shoulders, pushing her softly away until he slid out of her wet mouth with a slick sound. Amelie sank back on her heels, blinking up at him through heavy, hooded eyes, her chest rising and falling as she gasped for air. Before she could even utter a breathless protest, Lando reached down, hooking his hands securely under her arms and hoisting her up into his chest.

He claimed her lips before her feet could even fully touch the floor, a deep, bruising kiss that tasted of salt and absolute possession. He walked them backward toward the massive, unknown king-sized bed, his stride predatory and focused as he tumbled them both onto the crisp white linens.

The mattress gave way beneath them, and Lando was over her in a heartbeat, pinning her down with his bare weight. He didn't break the kiss for a second while his fingers frantically worked the zipper of her dress, sliding the fabric down her shoulders and hips until he stripped it away completely, tossing it onto the floor.

He left her in nothing but her lace panties, her bare skin glowing like porcelain in the silver harbor light. Lando pulled his mouth from hers, his breathing a ragged, panicked wreck as he began to kiss her everywhere. He rained hot, open-mouthed kisses down her jawline, over her throat, and down to her bare breasts, his tongue swirling over her peaked nipples until she was arching off the mattress and sobbing his name into the silent yacht.

—Lan… please, I’m burning up,— she whimpered, her hands tangling into his curls to hold him closer as his mouth tracked lower, trailing a path of fire across her stomach toward her hips.

—I’ve got you, princess,— he muttered against her soft skin, his hands mapping every curve of her body with a heavy, possessive intent. —Every single inch of you is mine tonight.—

Lando pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes dark and completely focused as his fingers hooked into the delicate lace of her panties. With one slow, deliberate motion, he dragged them down her long legs, shucking them off her feet and tossing them blindly into the darkness of the room.

He didn’t immediately climb back over her. Instead, Lando slid down the length of the mattress, stepping off the edge of the bed to kneel on the plush carpet right at the foot of it.

He stayed there for a silent, heavy moment, simply admiring her. In the silver moonlight filtering through the yacht's portholes, her thighs were spread wide across the white linens, and her center was glistening, slick and completely wet from her own touch earlier. He could see the faint, involuntary twitching of her muscles, clenching and pulsing around nothing, practically begging for him to fill the void.

A low, possessive growl rumbled in Lando’s chest at the sight.

—Look at you, baby,— he rasped, his voice dropping into that gritty, dominant register that always made her entire body tremble. —So fucking wet for me, just dripping all over the sheets. You’re practically begging for it, aren’t you?—

Amelie let out a broken, high-pitched whimper, her hands gripping the sheets tightly above her head as her face flushed a deep crimson. —Lando… please, don’t just stare at me. I need you.—

—I’ll tell you when you can speak, baby,— he murmured quietly, his eyes never leaving her core.

He reached out, his large hands wrapping firmly around the undersides of her thighs. With a strong, unyielding pull, he dragged her body down the mattress until her hips were resting right at the very edge of the bed, completely open and vulnerable to him. He parted her gently with his thumbs, witnessing how she twitched under his touch, before he finally leaned forward and sank his mouth directly against her center.

Amelie’s head thrashed back against the mattress, a shattered, breathless cry ripping from her throat as his warm tongue tasted her slick sweetness for the first time. The contrast of the cool yacht air conditioning and the blistering heat of his mouth sent a violent jolt of electricity straight to her core, her hips instantly lifting off the bed in a desperate attempt to take more of him.

Lando’s tongue was relentless, moving in deep, heavy strokes that had Amelie’s fingers knotting frantically into the white bedsheets. He didn’t just use his mouth; while his tongue kept up that torturous rhythm, he slid his fingers inside her. First one, then two, and finally a third, stretching her slick walls and getting her completely open and ready for him.

The feeling of three fingers stretching her while his mouth devoured her was too much. Amelie’s breathing devolved into short, panicked gasps, her hips bucking off the mattress as she clamped down hard around his hand. Lando could feel the sudden, frantic tightening of her internal muscles—the telltale sign that she was seconds away from completely shattering.

Right as she reached the precipice, Lando abruptly pulled his hand and his mouth away.

The sudden loss of friction made Amelie let out a loud, whining groan of protest, her head thrashing against the pillow.

Lando just let out a low, breathless laugh, the sound dark and thoroughly amused by her desperation. He stood up from his knees, his bare body slick with sweat in the silver moonlight, and crawled back up the mattress. He pinned her down with his weight, leaning down to give her a soft, lingering kiss on the lips to silence her whining.

—I told you, baby, I’m in charge tonight,— he murmured against her mouth, his voice a gritty, dominant vibration. —You don't get to finish until I say so.—

He settled firmly between her thighs, the thick, heavy length of him pressing directly against her soaking center. He reached blindly down toward his discarded jeans, his fingers fumbling around the pockets for a second before his movements slowed. The realization hit him like a physical blow. He didn't have his wallet. He didn't have a condom.

Lando’s entire body tensed over her, his jaw locking as he looked down into her heavy, hooded eyes.

—Fuck,— he rasped, his voice thick with frustration. —I don’t have a condom.—

Lando’s entire body tensed over her, his jaw locking as he looked down into her heavy, hooded eyes, the sudden halt in momentum agonizing for both of them.

Amelie looked up at him, her pupils completely blown out, her body literally vibrating with an unbearable, localized hunger. The alcohol and the raw desperation overrode every single rule she usually enforced. She hooked her legs tightly around his waist, pulling him down until there wasn't a single millimeter of air between them.

—I don’t care, Lan,— she whispered frantically, her hands gripping his shoulders. —I’ll just take the morning-after pill tomorrow, okay? Just please, don’t make me wait.—

Lando’s breath hitched, his chest cording with a sudden, intense conflict. He looked down at her face, his heart hammering violently against his ribs. It had been more than a year since they had done this without protection, and the sheer intimacy of it made his head spin.

—Seriously?— he asked, his voice rough and laced with a sudden gravity that cut through the haze.

—I’m sure, Lando. Please,— she sobbed out, her hips hitching upward to rub against him.

Hearing her say his full name like that was the final breaking point. Lando took himself in his hand, aligning the hot, bare tip of his dick directly against her core.

He pushed forward slowly, deliberately, driving into her wet heat. Without the barrier, the skin-on-skin contact was instant and completely overwhelming. Amelie let out a sharp, shallow gasp, a slight flicker of discomfort crossing her features as her muscles stretched to accommodate his full thickness all at once.

Lando froze for a heartbeat, his forearms bracing on either side of her head as he looked down at her. —You okay? Did I hurt you?—

—No… no, it’s just… you feel so big,— she breathed, her eyes watering slightly from the pure, blunt reality of him inside her.

Lando let out a long, broken groan, his eyes rolling back as he sank the rest of the way in. The feeling of her raw, scalding walls clamping tightly around his bare skin was absolute heaven. He had completely forgotten how intense it was to be inside her like this, completely unfiltered.

—God, Amelie… you’re so tight,— he hissed through his teeth, his entire frame trembling as he held himself buried completely inside her. —You feel… fuck, you feel amazing. I'm literally in heaven.—

Amelie let out a long, broken sigh, her fingers locking tightly behind his neck as she pulled him down into a deep, messy kiss. —Move, please. Just move.—

Lando didn't need to be told twice. He began to move, a heavy, unhurried rhythm that quickly escalated into a punishing pace. Without the barrier of a condom, the friction was blindingly hot, every single thrust sending a jolt of pure adrenaline straight through his spine. He loomed over her, his hands pinned flat against the mattress on either side of her head, his biceps cording under the strain as he drove himself into her over and over again.

The quiet stateroom was filled with the rhythmic, heavy thuds of the bed hitting the wooden bulkhead and the breathless, frantic sounds of their breathing.

—Lan… wait, you’re hitting... oh god,— she choked out, her head thrashing against the pillow as he angled his hips slightly lower, finding a depth that had her legs wrapping even tighter around his waist.

—I know, baby,— Lando rasped, his voice a dark, gritty wreck as he picked up the pace, his chest heaving violently against hers. —I’ve got you. Just take it. Take all of it for me.—

—Lando… please, harder,— she sobbed out, her voice breaking entirely as she arched her back off the mattress, completely consumed by the raw, skin-on-skin friction that was driving them both past the point of reason.

Lando let out a low, guttural growl, his dominant instincts completely taking over as he heard her beg. He didn't hold back anymore. He gripped her thighs, pinning them firmly against his sides to lock her in place, and began to fuck her with a relentless, heavy force that had the entire bed shuddering against the stateroom wall.

The rhythm was punishing, blunt, and entirely unfiltered. Every single deep thrust was a blinding jolt of pure pleasure, the heat of her scalding walls tight around him, threatening to break his restraint with every movement.

—You like that, don't you?— Lando hissed through his teeth, his jaw locking so tight the muscles corded in his face. —Knowing there's nothing between us right now?—

—Yes… oh god, yes,— Amelie sobbed out, her hands flying to his chest, her nails scratching light red lines down his skin as she tried to hold onto something solid. —It’s too much, Lan… you’re so deep.—

—I told you I was going to ruin you tonight,— he growled, his voice thick with a raw, uncoordinated hunger as he drove into her again, hitting her with a blunt, heavy depth that had her eyes rolling back in the silver light. —Look at me, baby. Keep your eyes on me.—

Amelie forced her heavy, hooded eyes open, her vision swimming as she locked onto his completely blown-out pupils. Her face was flushed, her blonde curls a wild, static-charged mess against the white pillows as her breath came in short, panicked hitches.

The relentless friction was drawing the coil in her lower stomach to a tight, unbearable point. Her internal muscles began to tremble, instinctively clamping down around his bare length in frantic, rhythmic waves that sent a jolt of pure fire straight up Lando’s spine.

—Lando… I’m gonna...— she cried out, her back arching violently off the mattress as her climax finally ripped through her, her body shaking from the sheer, unfiltered intensity of the release.

The possessive, crushing grip of her walls was the absolute breaking point for Lando’s fraying control. He let out a loud, pained roar against her neck, his knuckles turning white where they were pinned to the bed as he slammed into her one last, soul-stripping time.

Even through the blinding haze of his own release, and with a guttural groan of pure effort, he gripped her hips and pulled back just as the first wave hit him, the scorching heat of his release spilling across her stomach and the white linens of the unknown bed.

He collapsed heavily onto his side a second later, his bare, sweat-slicked chest heaving violently as he struggled to find air in the quiet, air-conditioned stateroom. The only sound left in the yacht was the ragged, overlapping gasps of their breathing.

Slowly, the frantic adrenaline began to drain from his muscles. Lando rolled his head over on the pillow, looking at Amelie, who was still trembling slightly, her eyes closed as a soft, completely satisfied sigh escaped her lips.

A slow, wicked smirk crept onto Lando’s face despite his utter exhaustion. He reached out, his thumb gently tracing the flush on her cheekbone.

—So…— he wheezed, his voice a low, gravelly friction in the dark. —I’m thinking we should definitely check out the guest cabins next.—

papayagirl: not them posting a “besties” pic right after lat week’s chaos 😭 → loveroflan: damage control 100% → lanmeliehub: timing is suspicious ngl

ameliecore: i love amelie but this feels a bit staged after the stream situation 😬 → goldenhouramelie: yeah it’s giving “look we’re fine”

fanameliee: pietra still rubbing me the wrong way after that nickname thing tbh → cherryvibes: same i can’t unsee it

sunsetamelie: people calling this “damage control” are doing too much 😭 → goldenhouramelie: it is a bit convenient though → softclouds: or maybe she just posted a cute pic??

papayadreams: amelie hugging her doesn’t automatically erase how awkward last week was 😬 → loveroflan: exactly → lanmeliehub: actions > selfies

amelievibes: or… hear me out… they’re actually friends and went to a beach club 😭

fanpageamelie: pietra smiling like nothing happened while chat was in flames is kind of wild 😭 → goldenhouramelie: she’s unbothered at least → softamelie: or unaware of how it came across

lanfan44: still think she crossed a line yesterday so this pic doesn’t really change that for me 😕 → papayaprincess: fair → loveroflan: same

softamelie: why is every interaction turned into PR analysis 😭 → goldenhouramelie: because fandoms are insane

ameliecentral: am i the only one who thinks amelie just forgave her and moved on and that’s it 😭 → cherryvibes: probably the healthiest option → dreamygirlie: simple and realistic

papayagirl: the “they’re best friends” narrative feels forced after everything that was said on stream 😬 → loveroflan: yeah it still lingers → lanmeliehub: can’t ignore it

fanameliee: i just don’t like how people are turning pietra into a villain from ONE awkward moment 😭

sunsetamelie: this is literally just two girls at a beach club 😭 → cherryvibes: exactly → dreamygirlie: normal behaviour

amelievibes: if anything this proves there wasn’t actual beef because why would they meet up otherwise 😭 → goldenhouramelie: or they’re just adults → softamelie: shocking concept again

lanmeliehub: i think people just need to stop overanalyzing every single post at this point 😭 → papayadreams: agreed

papayagirl: still side-eyeing yesterday but i’ll wait and see 🤷‍♀️ → cherryvibes: fair take honestly → dreamygirlie: same

fanameliee: still don’t like how pietra handled that nickname thing tbh → cherryvibes: same it felt unnecessary → dreamygirlie: especially after max warned her

sunsetamelie: “they’re just friends” but why is it always damage control pics after drama 😭 → goldenhouramelie: because people read into everything → softclouds: sometimes friends just hang out too tho

papayadreams: people saying she was flirting with lando are actually insane 😭 → loveroflan: that’s such a reach → lanmeliehub: internet loves creating narratives

amelievibes: i feel like amelie is too nice sometimes, she always has to clean up the fandom’s mess 😭

ameliecore: either way they look cute and that’s all i care about 🥹 → goldenhouramelie: at least something wholesome survived this saga

papayagirl: this is literally damage control after the stream 😭 → loveroflan: yeah the timing is TOO perfect → lanmeliehub: they saw the backlash and posted fast

ameliecore: not people acting like a beach club photo erases what happened 😬 → goldenhouramelie: it doesn’t but it also doesn’t mean anything deeper

ameliedayman: okay i need to say this clearly because this is getting out of hand. pietra is my friend and there was NO flirting, NO hidden drama, and NO “damage control” situation here. she made a joke that didn’t land well on stream and that’s it. we saw each other today because we are literally friends and were already planning to meet at the beach club before any of this online conversation. please stop creating narratives about her or trying to turn a harmless moment into hate. it’s not fair to her at all 🤍

fanpageamelie: pietra smiling like nothing happened while everyone is still debating her online is kinda wild 😭 → goldenhouramelie: she’s probably just living her life → softamelie: as she should

lanfan44: still side-eyeing her from yesterday, sorry 😕 → papayaprincess: fair opinion → loveroflan: same tbh

papayagirl: okay fair enough, if they were already meeting then people are reaching 😭 → loveroflan: yeah this went too far online → lanmeliehub: appreciate her clearing it up

ameliecore: thank you amelie for shutting it down, people were getting weird about it → goldenhouramelie: needed to be said

softamelie: y’all need to stop turning every interaction into “flirting” or “PR” 😭 → goldenhouramelie: literally

ameliecentral: if amelie and pietra are literally hugging in the pic then maybe… they’re friends??? 😭 → cherryvibes: revolutionary thought → dreamygirlie: shocking development

fanameliee: this is why i love amelie, she always protects her friends immediately 🥹 → cherryvibes: she doesn’t let things spiral → dreamygirlie: queen behaviour

sunsetamelie: everyone needs to calm down now 😭

papayagirl: idc it still feels like damage control but whatever 😭

amelievibes: can we all just accept it was a chaotic stream moment and not a conspiracy 😭 → cherryvibes: thank you → dreamygirlie: finally some sanity

lanmeliehub: glad she cleared it up directly instead of letting rumors run wild → papayadreams: same

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Monaco had that late-morning softness that made everything feel slightly unreal, like the world had been polished overnight and set back into place just for show. The sea was still visible between buildings as Amelie and Pietra walked along the curved streets near the harbor, shopping bags already accumulating between them despite having promised themselves this would be a “light” morning. The boys had left early for golf, disappearing with far too much enthusiasm for something involving small white balls and frustration, which had left the two of them with a rare stretch of uninterrupted time. Amelie had started the day fine, even happy, still carrying a bit of leftover warmth from the wedding, but as the hours passed she kept noticing the subtle ways Pietra’s energy kept dipping and returning like a signal cutting in and out.

At first, it had been easy to ignore. Pietra laughed when she was supposed to laugh, commented on dresses with her usual sharp humor, even insisted on buying something she didn’t need just because it annoyed Amelie in a funny way. But there were pauses between her reactions that didn’t usually exist, moments where she would stop mid-step to look at nothing in particular, like her thoughts had pulled her somewhere else entirely. Amelie didn’t push at first. She just adjusted her pace, stayed close, and let the silence sit between them when it needed to. Still, by the time they drifted into a quieter side street filled with small boutiques and pastel-colored storefronts, it had become impossible to ignore that something was sitting heavier on Pietra than she was letting on.

They ended up in a small ice cream shop tucked between two elegant cafés, the kind of place that didn’t look like it should be famous but somehow always had a line anyway. The air inside was cooler, scented faintly with vanilla and sugar, and the two of them took their time choosing before finally settling into a small table near the window. Outside, the street shimmered in the sun, yachts visible in the distance beyond the curve of the harbor, while inside they placed their shopping bags carefully around their feet like a temporary barricade against the outside world. Amelie stirred her ice cream absentmindedly, watching the melted edges swirl together, her thoughts still half on the morning, half on the shift she had been sensing in Pietra since breakfast.

Pietra didn’t eat for a moment. She just looked down at her cup, fingers loosely wrapped around the spoon, her posture slightly slouched in a way that didn’t match her usual confidence. When she finally spoke, her voice came out quieter than expected, almost too casual for what she was about to say, like she had rehearsed it and still hated the sound of it coming out.

—You know I don’t… I don’t have any romantic interest in Lando, right?—

The spoon in Amelie’s hand stopped halfway through a slow circle through her ice cream. For a second she didn’t react at all, like her brain had heard the words but refused to immediately assign meaning to them. Then she slowly lifted her eyes from the dessert to Pietra, the forked calm in her expression shifting just slightly, not into anger, but into something more careful and alert.

She set the spoon down gently against the edge of the cup, the small sound of ceramic against glass suddenly feeling too loud in the quiet café. Her shoulders leaned back into the chair a little as she studied Pietra’s face, searching for something underneath the question that didn’t fully match its surface.

—Where is that coming from?—

Pietra gave a short breath that almost resembled a laugh, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She finally stirred her own ice cream once, more out of habit than appetite, and looked away toward the window instead of meeting Amelie’s gaze.

—It’s just… everything online. The stream. The comments. People are weird.—

Amelie let out a slow exhale through her nose, glancing briefly down at the table before nodding once, as if she already understood where this was going even if she didn’t like it.

—People are always weird,— she said quietly. —That’s not new.—

Pietra’s fingers tightened slightly around the spoon. She still wasn’t eating. The ice cream in front of her was melting at the edges, ignored, while her attention stayed fixed somewhere far beyond the glass window and the bright Monaco street outside.

Amelie didn’t rush to fill the silence that followed. She just let it sit there between them, heavy but not fragile, like something that needed air before it could be handled properly. Outside, a couple walked past the window laughing loudly, completely unaware of the quiet shift happening inside the small café. Amelie’s gaze flickered briefly toward them, then back to Pietra, her expression softening rather than hardening as she leaned slightly forward on her elbows.

—Okay,— she said finally, voice calm but more grounded now. —Then tell me why you’re actually saying it like that.—

Pietra let out a breath through her nose, shaking her head once as if annoyed at herself more than anything else. She finally picked up her spoon again but didn’t use it, just turning it slowly between her fingers while staring at the melting ice cream like it had answers she didn’t want to say out loud. Her shoulders rose and fell in a small, uneven inhale before she spoke again, quieter this time.

—I just don’t like how people talk,— she admitted. —Every time I’m near him, or next to you two, it turns into something else online. Like I’m automatically in the way of something I didn’t even choose to be part of.—

Amelie’s eyes softened further at that, the tension in her posture easing as she nodded slowly. She reached for her spoon again, this time not eating, just resting it in her cup as she processed what Pietra was actually trying to say underneath the surface words.

—You’re not in the way,— she said simply, like it was obvious. —You’ve never been in the way.—

Pietra let out a short, humorless laugh, finally looking back at her properly now. There was something tired in her expression, something that hadn’t been there earlier in the beach light or the shopping streets. It was quieter here, more exposed, like the café had stripped away whatever armor she usually wore.

—It doesn’t matter what’s true online,— Pietra said, shaking her head lightly. —It matters what people decide to believe. And they decide fast.—

Amelie leaned back slightly in her chair, crossing one arm loosely over the table edge while watching her friend with steady focus. The spoon in her ice cream stayed untouched now, forgotten as the conversation shifted fully away from anything casual.

—Are you worried about what they’re saying about you?— she asked gently.

Pietra hesitated for a moment too long before answering, which was answer enough on its own. Her fingers finally released the spoon, letting it rest against the rim of the cup with a soft clink that felt louder than it should have been.

—I’m worried about what it does to us,— she admitted. —Not just you and me. All of it. The way people twist everything. One joke, one moment, one look, and suddenly it becomes a story I never agreed to be part of.—

Amelie’s expression shifted at that, something protective flashing briefly in her eyes, but she kept her voice steady. She reached across the small table then, placing her hand lightly over Pietra’s forearm, not forcing contact but offering it.

—You don’t have to carry that alone,— she said quietly. —And you definitely don’t have to explain yourself to me like you’re on trial.—

Pietra’s gaze dropped to their hands for a second before she nodded faintly, swallowing something that looked like it had been stuck there for a while. When she spoke again, her voice was lower, more honest than earlier, stripped of the casual tone she had tried to carry into the conversation.

—I just needed you to know that,— she said quietly. —Because I couldn’t stand the idea of you thinking I’d ever cross that line with Lando, or make things weird between us.—

Amelie didn’t answer immediately. She just watched her for a moment longer, eyes steady, hand still resting lightly over Pietra’s forearm as if anchoring her there in the present. The noise of the café around them continued softly, cups clinking and chairs scraping, but their table felt isolated inside it, like the world had dimmed itself to give them space.

When Amelie finally spoke, her voice was calm, but there was a firmness underneath it that made it clear she had already decided what she believed.

—Pietra, I don’t think that about you,— she said simply. —Not even for a second.—

Pietra exhaled, shoulders loosening just slightly, though the tension didn’t disappear completely. Her fingers finally moved back toward her ice cream, stirring it slowly without really looking at it, like she needed something to do with her hands more than she needed the dessert.

—It’s just hard sometimes,— Pietra admitted. —Because people don’t see friendship first. They see proximity. And then they build stories around it until it starts feeling like you’re responsible for them.—

Amelie’s thumb traced a small, absent circle against Pietra’s forearm before she slowly let her hand settle back onto the table, not withdrawing completely but giving her space again in that quiet, instinctive way she always did when someone was overwhelmed. She leaned back into her chair slightly, eyes still fixed on Pietra, but her expression had shifted into something steadier now, less questioning and more grounded.

—People online don’t see anything properly,— she said calmly. —They just connect dots that don’t exist and call it a story.—

Pietra gave a faint nod, still stirring her melting ice cream without really eating it. The spoon scraped softly against the cup, a repetitive sound that filled the small pauses between them. Outside, the sunlight reflected off the harbor in bright, shifting patches, but inside the café everything felt slower, contained, like the conversation had pulled them into its own quiet bubble.

Amelie exhaled gently through her nose, then tilted her head slightly as if choosing her words more carefully now, less reaction and more clarity.

—You know what’s funny?— she said softly. —People always assume I’d be the first one to believe that kind of stuff. That I’d be insecure or jealous or whatever else they want to project.—

Pietra glanced up at that, finally meeting her eyes properly again. There was a flicker of surprise there, like she hadn’t expected Amelie to go in that direction at all. Amelie noticed it but didn’t stop, her voice staying even, unbothered.

—But I don’t think that about you at all,— she continued. —Not even slightly. I know exactly what your relationship with Lando is.—

A small pause followed, not uncomfortable this time, just full.

Amelie’s gaze softened as she leaned forward a little again, resting her forearms on the table edge. Her tone shifted subtly, becoming more personal, less about reassurance and more about truth she had already accepted long ago.

—And I know something else too,— she added. —You’re actually a really good friend to him.—

Pietra blinked slowly, as if that sentence didn’t fully settle at first. Her spoon stopped moving entirely now, resting inside the cup while the ice cream continued to melt around it. Amelie didn’t look away, not even for a second, letting the words land without rushing to soften them further.

—He doesn’t really have many female friends like that,— Amelie continued honestly. —Not ones who just exist around him without turning it into something else. And I’ve seen how you are with him. It’s normal. It’s easy. That matters.—

Pietra’s shoulders dropped slightly at that, tension easing in a way that wasn’t dramatic but was noticeable if you were paying attention. Her gaze shifted down to the table again, but this time it wasn’t avoidance. It was processing.

Amelie leaned back again, crossing one leg over the other under the table, her tone remaining steady but warmer now.

—And I know I didn’t just… appear in your lives fully formed as a friend,— she said with a faint, almost amused breath. —We didn’t exactly start off as this big connected group where everything was perfect from day one.—

That earned the smallest flicker of a smile from Pietra, brief but real. Amelie noticed it and kept going, encouraged but not pushing.

—But I do consider you my friend,— she said simply. —Not just Lando’s friend. Mine too.—

The words hung in the air for a moment, unadorned and straightforward, carrying more weight precisely because Amelie didn’t dress them up.

Pietra finally let out a quiet breath, her spoon slowly turning again, but this time more out of comfort than avoidance. She swallowed once, then looked back at Amelie with something softer in her eyes.

—Yeah?—

Amelie nodded immediately, no hesitation.

—Yeah,— she said. —And I hope you see me the same way. Not just as “Lando’s girlfriend” or whatever label people decide this week. Just… me.—

Pietra’s expression shifted then, something warmer breaking through the earlier heaviness. She gave a small, genuine nod, finally letting her spoon rest completely as she leaned back into her chair properly for the first time in the conversation.

—I do,— she said quietly. —I really do.—

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liked by papayadreams, ameliecore, and others

lan4updates: Lando spotted golfing in Monaco via Max Fewtrell’s Instagram 🏌️‍♂️⛳️

View all 793 comments

papayagirl: the dogs running away mid-golf swing is actually sending me 😭 → loveroflan: rio and charlie said “we’re the main characters” → lanmeliehub: max just accepted defeat at this point

ameliecore: love how lando and max are basically on dog duty while pietra and amelie are shopping 😭 → goldenhouramelie: trad wives vs golf dads energy

fanameliee: people were saying they were all fighting yesterday and now they’re literally golfing together 😭 → cherryvibes: exactly like… where’s the drama → dreamygirlie: internet loves inventing issues

sunsetamelie: “damage control” gang where you at now 😭 → goldenhouramelie: hiding → softclouds: regrouping after this post

papayadreams: i think the whole friend group is literally fine and the internet just spiraled over nothing again 😭 → loveroflan: as usual

amelievibes: lando smiling while running after the dogs is so him 😭 → cherryvibes: he looks happy honestly → dreamygirlie: no scandal detected

fanpageamelie: max crouched like he’s trying to survive the chaos while rio ignores him completely 😭 → goldenhouramelie: father of the group energy

lanfan44: i swear people were calling pietra “damage control PR” and now they’re all hanging out like normal humans 😭 → papayaprincess: fandom needs a break → loveroflan: agreed

softamelie: also can we talk about how these two are ALWAYS together when the girls go shopping 😭 → goldenhouramelie: unofficial babysitters → sunsetamelie: dog dads confirmed

ameliecentral: honestly this just proves the group dynamic is completely normal and people overanalyze everything 😭

papayagirl: rio and charlie have better social lives than me at this point 😭 → loveroflan: same → lanmeliehub: they’re booked and busy

sunflowermelie: the way lando literally dropped everything to run after them 😭 → goldenhouramelie: he’s obsessed with those dogs

amelievibes: max always looks like he’s questioning his life choices in every group photo 😭 → cherryvibes: and yet he keeps coming back → dreamygirlie: loyalty king

fanameliee: so we went from “they’re fighting” to “they’re golfing and dog sitting” in less than 24 hours 😭 → goldenhouramelie: fandom whiplash

lanmeliehub: this is literally just their normal chaos friendship group and people keep trying to make it deeper 😭 → papayadreams: facts → loveroflan: let them live

sunsetamelie: honestly the dogs are the real main characters of this entire universe 😭 → cherryvibes: rio supremacy

ameliecore: i need max to start charging for “dog supervision services” at this point 😭

papayagirl: the way this whole group just ignores drama and goes golfing anyway 😭 → loveroflan: healthiest response tbh → lanmeliehub: internet could never

ameliecore: people really went from “they’re fighting” to “they’re literally walking dogs together” in one day 😭 → goldenhouramelie: fandom got humbled again

fanameliee: max crouching while rio runs past him like he’s invisible is SENDING me 😭 → cherryvibes: that dog does NOT respect authority → dreamygirlie: nor should he apparently

sunsetamelie: lando running after charlie while still trying to play golf is so unserious 😭 → goldenhouramelie: man has one priority and it’s that dog

papayadreams: people screaming “damage control” and now they’re all just… existing 😭 → loveroflan: as they should → lanmeliehub: normal life wins

amelievibes: i swear this friend group is just chaos + dogs + expensive hobbies 😭

fanpageamelie: the fact they trust lando and max with the dogs while they go shopping says everything 😭 → goldenhouramelie: they’re basically dads at this point → softamelie: chaotic dads but still

lanfan44: not people thinking every post is PR when it’s literally just golf and chaos 😭 → papayaprincess: internet overanalysis is a sport now

softamelie: rio and charlie have more screen time than half the paddock at this point 😭 → goldenhouramelie: main characters confirmed → sunsetamelie: they carry the lore

ameliecentral: max just permanently looks like he’s one second away from giving up 😭

papayagirl: the real storyline is max trying to survive lando and two dogs at once 😭 → loveroflan: boss battle → lanmeliehub: impossible difficulty

sunflowermelie: i love how none of them care about the internet narratives at all 😭 → goldenhouramelie: nor should they → softclouds: healthiest mindset ever

fanameliee: honestly this just proves everything is fine and people were bored 😭 → goldenhouramelie: story of every week → softamelie: literally

lanmeliehub: at this point if there’s no chaos we assume there is chaos 😭 → papayadreams: fandom trauma

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The apartment was quiet when Lando finally stepped inside.

The familiar silence greeted him almost immediately, broken only by the distant hum of Monaco traffic filtering through the windows and the soft click of the front door closing behind him. The afternoon sun spilled across the hardwood floors in long golden strips, warming the living room and making the entire apartment feel strangely empty. Max and Rio were already back at the hotel, the golf clubs long gone from the boot of the car, and for the first time all day Lando found himself completely alone with his own thoughts.

Charlie barely lifted his head when Lando walked past the dog bed tucked near the window.

The puppy blinked once, clearly deciding that whatever his human was doing wasn't important enough to interrupt his nap, before immediately settling back down again. Lando envied him a little. The ability to simply sleep through problems felt like a superpower these days.

The apartment remained quiet after Charlie settled back into sleep.

Lando stood there for a moment longer than necessary, staring at the sleeping puppy before finally dragging a hand through his still-damp hair and exhaling slowly. The shower had washed away the sweat from golf but unfortunately hadn't done anything about the weight sitting stubbornly in his chest. Outside, Monaco glittered beneath the afternoon sun, yachts crowding the harbor and expensive cars moving lazily through streets that somehow always felt too perfect to be real.

Lando stood there for another few seconds, staring through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the harbor below while sunlight reflected off the water in blinding flashes of gold and white. Somewhere out there, people were already arriving for race week. Team personnel. Sponsors. Journalists. Drivers. The familiar circus was slowly beginning to assemble itself around Monaco again. Normally the anticipation would have excited him. Instead, all he could think about was how grateful he was that Amelie had spent the last three days refusing to stay still.

For someone who constantly claimed she hated living in Monaco, she had somehow managed to leave the apartment every single day since they arrived.

Lunches with friends. Shopping trips. Coffee dates. Long walks through streets she supposedly couldn't stand. Every morning seemed to come with a new reason to disappear for several hours before returning home carrying another collection of shopping bags and stories about people she had run into. Normally, Lando would've teased her relentlessly about it. He would've pointed out the hypocrisy every chance he got until she rolled her eyes and threatened to throw something at him.

For the first time since arriving in Monaco, he hadn't complained about it once.

Not because he wasn't noticing it, but because every extra lunch, every shopping trip, every spontaneous outing bought him a few more hours before he had to face the conversation he knew was coming. The distance he'd been putting between them wasn't dramatic enough for most people to notice. It lived in smaller things. The way he hesitated before reaching for her hand sometimes. The moments he disappeared into his own head during conversations. The way his smile occasionally arrived half a second too late. Amelie hadn't called him on it yet, but he knew she would eventually. She always did.

Eventually she would tilt her head, narrow her eyes slightly, and ask him what was wrong with that terrifying accuracy she seemed to possess when it came to him. She would wait until they were alone. She would refuse to accept the first answer. And sooner or later he would have to tell her the truth.

The problem was that every time he imagined actually having that conversation, his throat closed.

Every version of it ended the same way. Him trying to explain something that sounded ridiculous even inside his own head. Him admitting that despite everything they had built together, despite years of friendship and love and shared history, there was still a stupid insecure teenager somewhere inside him who occasionally woke up and convinced himself he wasn't enough for her. The thought alone made his eyes sting.

Lando swallowed hard and looked away from the windows.

Because how was he supposed to explain that to her without sounding completely insane?

How was he supposed to sit across from the woman who loved him more openly than anyone ever had and admit that sometimes he still felt like the awkward teenager who used to watch her from the outside of a world he never thought he would belong in? The version of himself who had collected opportunities like they were fragile things, terrified they would disappear if he looked away for too long. The version who still remembered exactly what it felt like to be nobody.

The thought settled heavily enough that before he could stop himself, his feet were already moving.

Almost automatically, he turned away from the windows and walked toward the bedroom. The apartment remained silent around him, Charlie still asleep, the afternoon sunlight slowly shifting across the floorboards. He crossed the room and headed straight toward the back corner of the closet, kneeling beside a row of storage boxes tucked carefully behind suitcases and old backpacks.

He pulled the box free carefully.

Dust hadn't managed to reach it despite the years, the lid still sitting exactly where he had left it the last time he'd opened it. The cardboard was slightly worn around the corners now, evidence of moving countries, apartments, hotel rooms, and storage units over the years, but everything inside remained untouched. Lando sat back on his heels for a second, staring down at it before finally standing and carrying it out of the bedroom.

The living room remained quiet as he crossed toward the couch.

Sunlight pooled across the floorboards while Charlie continued sleeping through the entire emotional crisis unfolding around him. Lando lowered himself onto the cushions, resting the box beside him before lifting the lid slowly. The familiar smell of old paper greeted him almost immediately, carrying with it a version of himself he hadn't thought about properly in years.

For a few moments he simply looked.

Old race passes. Team lanyards. Photographs. Plane tickets. Random receipts he'd somehow convinced himself were important. There was no real organization to any of it. Just fragments of a life collected by a teenager who had been terrified of forgetting where he'd come from. His fingers moved carefully through the contents, pulling things out one at a time.

A faded karting photograph appeared first.

Lando couldn't help smiling faintly at it. He looked about fourteen, wearing an oversized team shirt and the kind of haircut that should probably qualify as a crime. His grin stretched across his entire face despite the fact that his race suit looked two sizes too big. Behind him stood a kart and absolutely nothing else.

The photograph remained between his fingers for several seconds longer than necessary.

The paper had softened slightly with age, the edges worn from being handled too many times over the years, but the image itself remained perfectly clear. Fourteen-year-old Lando smiled back at him with the kind of uncomplicated confidence that only existed before life started teaching people how easily things could disappear. He set it carefully beside him and continued digging through the box, uncovering more fragments of a version of himself that felt increasingly unfamiliar with every passing year.

There were race programs from weekends nobody else would remember anymore. Old paddock wristbands he had convinced himself were important enough to keep. Hotel keycards from championships that had once felt life-changing. A crumpled autograph he'd asked for when he was younger. Photos with drivers he had admired before eventually racing alongside them himself. Looking at them now felt strange. Like watching someone else's life unfold through scattered evidence left behind in a cardboard box.

One photograph made him laugh despite himself.

It showed him standing awkwardly beside a Formula One driver during a fan event, shoulders rigid and smile painfully forced. The expression on his face looked less like excitement and more like someone being held hostage.

—Jesus Christ,— he muttered quietly.

He turned the photograph over once before setting it aside, shaking his head at the memory while another reluctant smile tugged briefly at the corner of his mouth. The version of himself trapped inside that picture had looked so desperately determined to appear normal that it bordered on painful. He remembered exactly how his palms had sweated beforehand, how he'd rehearsed what to say and then forgotten all of it the second someone pointed a camera in his direction. Looking at it now felt almost absurd considering the life he lived today.

The next few items came more slowly.

His fingers moved through old race credentials, faded event passes, and folded pieces of paper carrying memories he hadn't thought about in years. Some belonged to championships. Some belonged to disappointments. Others were attached to moments so small they probably shouldn't have survived this long. Yet somehow they had. Every object inside the box carried proof of a version of himself that had existed before Formula One, before Monaco apartments, before people knew his name when he walked into a room.

Then he found a laminated paddock pass from 2019.

Lando stared at it for a second longer than necessary before setting it carefully on top of the pile beside him. His chest tightened immediately, because 2019 wasn't just another year. It had been before everything changed. Before race wins. Before expectations. Before becoming someone worth paying attention to. Back then he had still felt like a kid sneaking his way into rooms he didn't belong in, hoping nobody would notice he was making most of it up as he went.

The apartment remained silent around him while sunlight slowly shifted across the floor.

Charlie hadn't moved from his bed. The city outside remained bright and impossibly expensive. Somewhere below, yachts drifted lazily through the harbor while tourists wandered streets lined with designer stores and cafés. None of it reached him here. Sitting on the couch with the cardboard box balanced beside him, Monaco felt very far away.

Another photograph appeared between his fingers.

This one made him pause completely.

It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't rare. It wasn't even particularly well taken. Just a simple photograph printed on cheap photo paper, slightly bent at one corner from years spent hidden among everything else.

The sound of keys hitting the front door lock shattered the silence before he could think about it any further.

Lando physically jumped.

The box nearly tipped sideways as he snapped his head toward the entrance, heart immediately launching into his throat. A second later the lock clicked, the door opened, and familiar voices and movement spilled into the apartment before he had enough time to react properly.

—I'm telling you, that woman was lying,— Amelie's voice floated inside before she even appeared. —That bag was not on sale. There is literally no universe where that was a discount.—

Shopping bags hit the floor with several loud thumps.

Lando reacted instantly.

The photograph disappeared back into the box. The lid slammed shut. His hands moved with the speed of someone actively committing a crime as he shoved the entire thing downward, angling it toward the space beneath the coffee table and couch.

Unfortunately, Amelie was already walking toward him.

She rounded the corner into the living room carrying enough shopping bags to financially destabilize a small country before immediately spotting him on the couch.

Her face brightened instantly.

—Hi,— she announced.

Before he could answer, she crossed the room and practically launched herself sideways onto the cushions beside him.

The impact made the couch shift slightly beneath their combined weight. Amelie immediately curled into his side like she'd been gone for months rather than a few hours, tipping her head back just enough to look up at him before leaning in and pressing a slow kiss against his mouth.

—Missed you,— she murmured.

Lando kissed her back automatically.

—You've been gone four hours.—

—Exactly. Tragic.—

She kissed him once more before finally pulling away, already reaching forward toward the coffee table.

—You have no idea what happened today. Pietra almost bought a lamp that looked possessed.—

She was already bending forward to grab the television remote from the coffee table when her movement suddenly slowed.

The change was almost imperceptible at first.

One second she was halfway through an animated explanation about a supposedly haunted lamp and the next her eyes had narrowed slightly, attention snagging on something near the edge of the couch. Lando felt the exact moment it happened. The exact moment her brain registered that he had very obviously been trying to hide something.

His stomach dropped immediately.

Amelie straightened a little.

—What was that?— she asked casually.

The question would've been a lot less threatening if she hadn't already started leaning downward.

Lando reacted far too quickly.

—Nothing.—

Unfortunately, saying nothing while visibly panicking had never worked on Amelie.

Her eyebrows lifted.

—Oh, so it's definitely something then.—

Before he could stop her, she was already reaching down beside the couch. Lando moved at the exact same time, one hand shooting forward toward the cardboard box still sticking out slightly from underneath the furniture.

He was too late.

Amelie's hand reached the box first, her fingers wrapping around the edge just as Lando's landed on the opposite side. For a second they both remained frozen there, holding it between them in a ridiculous tug-of-war that neither seemed willing to fully commit to.

Amelie's eyes narrowed immediately.

—Lando Norris,— she said slowly, already smiling despite herself. —What are you hiding?—

The accusation landed somewhere between amused and suspicious, which somehow made it worse. Lando kept one hand stubbornly on the box while she held the other side, neither of them moving for a second as they stared at each other across the coffee table.

—Nothing,— he repeated.

He should have known that answer wasn't going to survive longer than three seconds.

Amelie looked down at the box, then back up at him, then down at the box again with the exact expression she always wore right before ignoring every reasonable boundary placed in front of her. The smile pulling at the corner of her mouth only made it worse. It wasn't malicious. If anything, it was fondly entertained by the fact that he was very clearly trying and failing to hide something.

Amelie's smile widened instantly.

Not because she had discovered some terrible secret, but because his reaction had confirmed beyond any reasonable doubt that whatever was inside the box mattered. She tightened her grip and gave a small victorious tug, laughing when Lando immediately tried to pull it back toward himself.

—You are being unbelievably suspicious right now,— she informed him.

—You're unbelievably nosy right now,— he shot back.

Amelie looked so pleased with herself that it was genuinely irritating.

Her fingers tightened around the box while she shifted her legs beneath her on the couch, already preparing to ignore every objection he was about to make. The shopping bags remained abandoned near the entrance, forgotten entirely now that she had discovered something far more interesting. Lando kept one hand stubbornly on the cardboard lid, but even he knew this battle was lost. Amelie had spent years developing an almost supernatural ability to bulldoze through his resistance whenever curiosity got involved.

—Give me that,— he complained, already hearing how weak the protest sounded.

—No,— she replied immediately, far too happy about it.

The answer was accompanied by a quick tug that finally pulled the box fully into her lap. Lando made one last half-hearted attempt to recover it before giving up entirely and dropping back against the couch cushions with the exhausted expression of a man watching a disaster unfold in slow motion. Amelie, meanwhile, looked delighted. She brushed a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear and lifted the lid without an ounce of guilt.

—Oh my God,— she breathed.

The words left her mouth in a whisper so soft it almost disappeared into the quiet apartment.

For a second, she simply stared down into the box balanced across her lap, her entire expression transforming from amused curiosity into something much gentler. The excitement that had been dancing in her eyes moments ago faded beneath surprise, then affection, then something that looked dangerously close to heartbreak. Her fingers moved carefully through the contents now, suddenly aware that she wasn't looking through random keepsakes. She was looking through pieces of him.

Lando immediately regretted every decision that had led to this moment.

He sat rigid beside her, one arm stretched along the back of the couch while every instinct screamed at him to grab the box and throw it into the Mediterranean. Instead he stayed exactly where he was, watching helplessly as Amelie lifted an old race pass and examined it with the kind of fascination people reserved for museum artifacts.

—Oh my God, look at you,— she laughed softly.

She held up a faded photograph from his karting days and immediately burst into a grin.

Amelie's grin widened immediately as she held the photograph closer to her face, squinting dramatically at fourteen-year-old Lando like she was conducting a serious investigation.

—This haircut should've been illegal,— she informed him with complete confidence.

Lando groaned and dropped his head back against the couch.

—It was a long time ago.—

—No, because genuinely, who let you leave the house looking like that?— she continued, already laughing. —Your parents failed you. Your friends failed you. Society failed you.—

—Thank you for the support.—

—Anytime, baby.—

The answer was accompanied by a quick kiss against his cheek before she looked back down into the box. Her fingers moved carefully through the contents, lifting old race passes and photographs one by one while her commentary continued uninterrupted. Some memories she immediately recognized. Others clearly belonged to versions of Lando that had existed long before she entered his life.

Every so often she would hold something up and ask a question.

Every so often he would answer.

Most of the time she simply smiled.

Because beneath the teasing there was something undeniably tender about it all. She wasn't laughing at him. She was looking at pieces of his life that had survived every version of himself he'd ever been. The awkward teenager. The hopeful kid. The driver who still wasn't sure he'd make it. Every item seemed to remind her that the man sitting beside her hadn't simply appeared one day as the person she loved.

Amelie's fingers slowed as she continued moving through the contents.

The teasing gradually softened into something quieter, her attention lingering longer on each object now that she understood what she was actually looking at. There were photographs from race weekends nobody talked about anymore, old credentials from championships that had existed long before television cameras followed him everywhere, and random scraps of paper that would've looked meaningless to anyone else. To her, they felt like evidence. Tiny pieces of a boy who had spent years fighting for a life he hadn't been promised.

—You kept everything,— she murmured softly.

Lando shrugged, unable to meet her eyes for more than a second.

—Not everything.—

—Lando, there's literally a receipt in here.—

—It was important at the time.—

—For what? Evidence in a murder investigation?—

A reluctant smile pulled briefly at the corner of his mouth.

Amelie smiled back immediately, pleased she'd managed to get even that much from him, before continuing her search through the box. The apartment remained warm around them, late-afternoon sunlight painting golden shapes across the floor while Charlie slept through the entire conversation without moving so much as an ear.

Her fingers paused over another photograph, her smile fading into something softer as she turned it over carefully between her hands. The apartment remained quiet around them, sunlight stretching lazily across the living room while Charlie continued sleeping without the slightest concern for the emotional crisis currently unfolding on the couch. For several seconds she simply studied whatever she was looking at, and the silence alone was enough to make Lando's stomach tighten.

Then she stopped completely.

The movement was so abrupt that Lando immediately knew what photograph she had found.

His chest sank before he even looked.

Slowly, Amelie lifted it from the box.

The second the photograph appeared between her fingers, I knew exactly which one it was.

Lando's entire body seemed to lock beside her, every muscle going rigid as he stared at the image in her hands without actually looking at it. He didn't need to. He remembered that photograph better than half the things he'd done last week. The cheap photo paper. The slightly bent corner. The way he'd asked for it afterward because at the time it had felt impossible that he'd ever have another moment like it.

Amelie looked down at the picture in silence.

The photograph wasn't particularly remarkable to anyone else. Just a younger version of her standing beside a younger version of him during a Formula One event back in 2019. She remembered taking hundreds of similar pictures with fans that year. Most of them blurred together now. This one didn't.

Amelie's eyes remained fixed on the photograph, her thumb brushing absentmindedly over the slightly worn corner while everything that had felt confusing suddenly became painfully clear. The younger version of Lando standing beside her wasn't looking at the camera the way he did now. He wasn't relaxed. He wasn't comfortable. He looked careful. Like someone trying very hard not to take up too much space. Like someone meeting a person he admired and convincing himself that was all it would ever be. Slowly, she turned her head toward him, but Lando was already staring down at the photograph too, jaw tight enough to hurt.

—Oh my God,— she whispered softly.

The words weren't dramatic. They weren't shocked. They sounded more like someone finally finding the missing piece of a puzzle they hadn't realized they were holding upside down. Beside her, Lando visibly tensed. Not because he didn't understand what she meant, but because he understood it perfectly. The realization settled heavily between them while the apartment remained impossibly quiet around them.

—Was I really mean to you?— she asked softly.

Lando's eyes finally lifted from the photograph.

For a second he just looked at her, the picture still resting between her fingers while late-afternoon sunlight painted soft gold across the couch cushions. The question lingered there between them, fragile in a way neither of them usually allowed things to be. He could see the guilt already beginning to form behind her eyes, could practically watch her replaying old memories and conversations, searching for evidence that she had somehow hurt him without realizing it.

A small laugh escaped him.

Not because it was funny.

Because it wasn't.

—No,— he said quietly.

Amelie's eyebrows pulled together anyway.

Lando looked back down at the photograph, his thumb brushing absentmindedly against the edge of the box beside them.

—That would've required you to actually speak to me,— he added softly.

Lando's eyes stayed on the photograph for several seconds after the words left his mouth.

The confession wasn't bitter. If anything, it carried an almost embarrassing amount of fondness beneath it. Back then, she had existed in an entirely different orbit. Movie premieres. Press tours. Red carpets. Interviews. Millions of people wanting a piece of her attention every single day. Meanwhile, he'd been a nervous nineteen-year-old trying to survive his first Formula One season without making a complete idiot of himself. Looking at the photograph now, it felt absurd that those two versions of themselves somehow ended up here.

Amelie looked back down at the picture.

Her thumb traced the bent corner again while memory after memory rearranged itself into something new. Suddenly she remembered him showing up around paddocks before they were friends. Remembered brief conversations she'd barely thought twice about. Remembered the way he'd always been polite, always a little quieter around her than around everyone else. At the time she'd assumed it was because they didn't know each other well. Now she wasn't so sure.

A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

—A lot has changed, huh?— she asked softly.

Beside her, Lando finally lifted his eyes.

For a moment he just looked at her.

The woman sitting cross-legged beside him on the couch wasn't the celebrity crush from the photograph anymore. She wasn't some impossible person living in a completely different world. She was the woman who stole his hoodies. The woman who left half-finished coffees all over the apartment. The woman who talked to Charlie like he paid rent. The woman who somehow occupied every corner of his life without him ever getting tired of it.

Slowly, he nodded.

—Yeah,— he admitted quietly. —A bit.—

Amelie's smile softened immediately.

The photograph remained forgotten in her hands now as she shifted slightly closer to him on the couch. Not dramatically. Not enough to break the fragile honesty sitting between them. Just enough that her knee brushed his and stayed there.

Amelie held his gaze for a few seconds longer, her fingers still wrapped carefully around the photograph while her mind continued replaying everything she had only just understood. Every strange look over the last week. Every hesitation. Every moment where he seemed present and somewhere else at the same time. The box wasn't really about old race passes or photographs. It wasn't even about 2019. It was about the boy who still existed somewhere underneath everything else, the one who couldn't quite believe he'd gotten to keep the things he loved.

Her chest ached instantly.

Not because she was sad.

Because she finally understood.

—You idiot,— she whispered softly.

The corner of Lando's mouth twitched.

—That's not usually how people comfort someone.—

—No, I mean it affectionately,— she replied immediately, shifting closer until their shoulders pressed together properly. —You're actually such an idiot sometimes.—

Lando let out a quiet laugh through his nose, but there was still something guarded behind his eyes that made her heart squeeze. It wasn't dramatic. Most people probably wouldn't have noticed it. Amelie did.

She always did.

Carefully, she set the photograph on top of the pile beside them before turning fully toward him on the couch. One of her hands came up automatically, brushing through the slightly messy hair that was beginning to curl at the edges after his shower. Lando's eyes followed the movement for a second before settling back on her face.

—Do you know I love you?— she asked quietly.

For once he didn't immediately nod.

The hesitation lasted less than a second but it existed, and that alone told her everything.

Amelie's expression softened so much it almost hurt to look at and without another word she leaned forward and kissed him.

It wasn't dramatic or rushed. Just soft and warm and familiar. The kind of kiss that felt like coming home. Lando's hand found her waist automatically as she shifted closer, their foreheads brushing briefly together before she kissed him again.

—I love you,— she murmured against his mouth.

Another kiss.

—So much.—

Another.

—Like, concerning amounts, actually.—

A reluctant smile finally appeared.

—Concerning amounts?—

—Very concerning amounts,— she confirmed before kissing him again. —Scientists should probably study it.—

Lando laughed softly into the next kiss, some of the tension finally beginning to crack apart beneath the weight of her stubborn affection. His hand slid higher against her side while Amelie practically climbed into his lap, clearly deciding proximity was now a requirement for the conversation.

Lando laughed softly into the next kiss, some of the tension finally beginning to crack apart beneath the weight of her stubborn affection. His hand slid higher against her side while Amelie practically climbed into his lap, clearly deciding proximity was now a requirement for the conversation.

She settled there without the slightest hesitation, one hand resting against the side of his face while the other remained tangled loosely in his hair. The box sat forgotten beside them now, photographs and race passes scattered across the couch cushions like evidence from a lifetime neither of them had expected to share. Sunlight continued pouring through the windows, turning the entire apartment gold around them.

—You know what's really annoying?— Amelie asked quietly, her nose brushing his as she spoke.

Lando's eyebrows lifted slightly.

—I'm sure you're about to tell me.—

—You spent an entire week having an existential crisis when you could've just talked to me.—

His groan was immediate.

—See, that's easy for you to say now.—

—No, that's easy for me to say because it's true,— she corrected gently before leaning forward to press another quick kiss against the corner of his mouth. —Lan, I would've listened the first time too, you know.—

Lando's gaze dropped briefly toward the photograph still resting beside them. The younger versions of themselves stared back from the glossy paper, frozen in a moment that had felt impossibly important to him at the time and completely ordinary to her.

—It sounds stupid when I say it out loud,— he admitted quietly. —The whole thing. Looking at that photo and thinking maybe one day you'd wake up and realize you could do better than me.—

Amelie blinked at him.

Then blinked again.

Then stared at him like he had personally announced plans to move into the sea.

—Lando.—

The warning in her voice immediately made him regret finishing the sentence.

—What?—

—Do you hear yourself?—

—Unfortunately, yes.—

—No, genuinely. Do you actually hear yourself?—

Her expression had shifted somewhere between disbelief and affection, which somehow made the entire thing even worse. She cupped his face with both hands now, forcing him to look directly at her while she studied him with the same concentration she'd normally reserve for solving a complicated problem.

—You think the issue is that you're dating your celebrity crush,— she said slowly. —Meanwhile your celebrity crush is sitting right here wondering how she managed to trick her celebrity crush into loving her back.—

Lando stared at her.

Amelie stared right back.

—You're ridiculous,— he informed her.

—And you're worse,— she replied instantly.

A laugh escaped him before he could stop it, the sound softer than it had been all week. Amelie immediately looked pleased with herself, like she'd just won something important, before leaning forward to press another kiss against his mouth.

—Baby, if somebody had told nineteen-year-old me that I'd end up with you, I would've laughed in their face,— she admitted quietly between kisses. —Actually, no. I would've assumed they were making fun of me.—

Lando's expression softened immediately.

—You wouldn't have.—

—I absolutely would've,— she insisted. —I would've said, "Have you seen him?" and then I would've pointed dramatically in your direction and embarrassed myself completely.—

—You are embarrassing yourself completely.—

—Exactly. Consistency is important in a relationship.—

The answer earned another laugh, and this time it lasted a little longer. Amelie felt the tension easing beneath her hands with every passing second, the tightness she'd been seeing in his shoulders finally beginning to disappear. It wasn't gone entirely, but it wasn't carrying the same weight anymore.

She brushed her thumb lightly against his cheek.

—You keep talking about somebody better,— she said softly. —But better according to who?—

Lando opened his mouth but nothing came out, because he didn't really have an answer.

Amelie smiled gently at his silence.

—The future I want isn't some mystery person who doesn't exist,— she continued quietly. —It's you. It's always been you. You're the one I call when something good happens. You're the one I want next to me when something bad happens. You're the one I annoy every day and somehow still convince to love me afterward.—

—Debatable.—

—Shut up, I'm being emotional.—

He immediately raised both hands in surrender.

—Sorry. Continue.—

Amelie rolled her eyes fondly before leaning forward and kissing him again, slower this time, her forehead settling against his when she pulled back.

—The future I want is the one with you in it,— she whispered. —That's the entire answer. I don't care about finding somebody else. I don't want somebody else. I want you. I want our stupid dog. I want your terrible driving directions. I want the version where we're eighty years old and still arguing over absolutely nothing.—

Lando's eyes stung immediately.

The feeling caught him off guard enough that he looked away for a second, swallowing hard while Amelie pretended not to notice. She knew him well enough to understand when he needed a moment and loved him enough not to make him feel embarrassed about it.

When he finally looked back at her, she was already smiling.

Not a huge smile.

Just a small one.

The kind that always felt more honest.

—You really mean that?— he asked quietly.

Amelie looked horrified.

—Lando Norris, if I climb into your lap one more time today and explain this again, we're both going to need physical therapy.—

He laughed despite himself.

—That's not an answer.—

—Fine,— she said, immediately grabbing his face again. —Yes. I mean it. Completely. Entirely. Ridiculously. Embarrassingly. Stupidly. Do you need me to continue alphabetically?—

—No.—

—Good, because I was running out of adverbs.—

The apartment felt lighter somehow after that.

Not because every insecurity had magically disappeared, but because they were finally sitting in the open where she could hold them up to the light and point out how ridiculous they actually were. The photograph from 2019 remained on the couch beside them, no longer feeling like evidence of a distance between their worlds. Instead it looked like proof of how far they'd both traveled to end up here.

Amelie glanced toward it one last time before looking back at him.

—You know what my favorite part is?—

—What?—

Her smile widened immediately.

—That nineteen-year-old you would've absolutely lost his mind if he knew how many kisses he was about to get.—

Lando groaned.

Amelie ignored him completely.

—Like genuinely. He would've combusted.—

—Please stop talking about younger me like he died in battle.—

—I'm just saying, he would've been thrilled.—

—You're impossible.—

—And yet,— she said softly before kissing him once more, —I'm still your future, apparently.—

Lando looked at her for several seconds before smiling, the kind of smile that finally reached his eyes again.

Then he wrapped his arms around her properly and pulled her closer.

—Yeah,— he murmured against her forehead. —You are.—

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f1paddocklive: Lando Norris has arrived for media day in Monaco 🛴🇲🇨

Running a little behind schedule, the reigning World Champion was spotted making his way through the paddock on his scooter wearing black trousers, dress shoes, a navy tee, and his fan-favorite Hungary 2024 special helmet.

Late? Yes. Looking ridiculously good while doing it? Also yes.

View all 842 comments

papayagirl: WHY IS HE ALWAYS LATE 😭 → loveroflan: consistency is key apparently → lanmeliehub: some traditions never die

ameliecore: the helmet, the scooter, the outfit??? 😭 → goldenhouramelie: serving accidentally → softamelie: he's incapable of looking bad it's annoying

fanameliee: dress shoes on a scooter is such a lando outfit combination 😭 → cherryvibes: makes no sense but somehow works

sunsetamelie: not the hungary 2024 helmet making a comeback 🥹 → goldenhouramelie: one of his best helmets ever → softclouds: fan favorite for a reason

ameliedayman: hot → lando: thanks 👍 → ameliecore: THE DRY RESPONSE 😭 → papayagirl: I'M CRYINGGGG → goldenhouramelie: he said "not giving you the satisfaction" 😭

loveroflan: AMELIE????????? 😭 → lanmeliehub: she said what everyone was thinking → softamelie: finally someone was brave enough

papayadreams: arriving late but looking like THAT is crazy 😭 → loveroflan: pretty privilege

amelievibes: he looks like he's on his way to a business meeting and a karting session at the same time 😭 → cherryvibes: PERFECT DESCRIPTION → dreamygirlie: both somehow

fanpageamelie: the navy shirt is doing a lot of heavy lifting today 😭 → goldenhouramelie: respectfully yes → softamelie: very respectfully

lanfan44: every paddock arrival photo lately has been ridiculous 😭 → papayaprincess: he knows what he's doing

sunsetamelie: lando replying with "thanks 👍" is peak boyfriend behavior 😭 → goldenhouramelie: trying to act nonchalant → softclouds: failing miserably

papayadreams: he definitely smiled at his phone before typing that 😭 → loveroflan: 100%

softamelie: imagine being late and still stopping for photos 😭 → goldenhouramelie: priorities → sunsetamelie: icon behavior honestly

ameliecentral: the scooter photos are always elite 😭 → cherryvibes: instant classic every time → dreamygirlie: never disappoints

amelievibes: i know the paddock group chat is having a field day 😭 → cherryvibes: max fewtrell already has screenshots → dreamygirlie: no doubt

fanpageamelie: "hot" is taking me out because that's literally it 😭 → goldenhouramelie: short. direct. effective.

papayagirl: i know the media managers saw him arrive and sighed 😭 → loveroflan: "there he is..." → lanmeliehub: ten minutes late but smiling

softamelie: the helmet, the scooter, the outfit... she wasn't wrong 😭 → goldenhouramelie: not even a little bit → sunsetamelie: facts are facts

ameliecentral: i love how she comments like a fan account sometimes 😭 → cherryvibes: genuinely

fanameliee: not her commenting "hot" in front of 8 million people 😭 → cherryvibes: she's so real for that

fanameliee: monaco lando is a completely different species 😭

sunsetamelie: him riding through the paddock like he's in a movie 😭

papayadreams: okay but can we talk about how good he looks lately 😭 → loveroflan: i fear the answer is amelie → lanmeliehub: YOU SAID IT NOT ME 😭

papayagirl: okay but the "thanks 👍" is somehow the funniest response possible 😭 → loveroflan: maximum lando energy → lanmeliehub: emotionally unavailable emoji 😭

amelievibes: somewhere amelie is seeing these photos and rolling her eyes 😭

fanpageamelie: the funniest part is him looking completely unbothered about being late 😭 → goldenhouramelie: not a single concern in that helmet → softamelie: peace and serenity

raceweekendd: she really looked at those pictures and went "yep" 😭 → cherryvibes: no further notes → dreamygirlie: case closed

f1fairytale: the way she didn't even use emojis 😭

lan4worldchamp: world champion, millionaire, late to work 😭 → papayaprincess: relatable king

softclouds: this man owns like three outfit formulas and somehow keeps winning 😭

midnightamelie: i know lando's ego just grew three sizes today 😭

papayagirl: if i looked like that on a scooter i'd never stop taking photos either 😭 → loveroflan: exactly → lanmeliehub: i'd become unbearable 😭

goldenpapaya: somewhere max is typing "get a room" right now 😭 → cherrysoda: immediately → lanmeliefever: before the comment was even posted 😭

softfilms: not the girlfriend approval stamp being worth more than every fan edit combined 😭 → lovergirlie: exactly

--------------

The stewards' room door finally opened after what felt like an unnecessarily long amount of time.

Lando stepped out first, immediately squinting against the bright Monaco sunlight reflecting off every available surface outside the paddock building. Behind him, Charles emerged looking equally unimpressed, the folded sheet containing their official penalty still clutched loosely in one hand. For several seconds neither of them spoke. They simply started walking side by side through the paddock, both carrying the exact same expression of men who had just wasted part of their morning listening to a lecture they didn't particularly agree with.

—Honestly, that's ridiculous,— Charles muttered first, shaking his head as they headed toward the garages. —I've lived here my entire life and apparently that's still not enough to make people move out of the way when they want a photo.—

Lando snorted beside him.

The pathway was already crowded despite the weekend not having officially begun. Team personnel moved in every direction carrying equipment, cameras followed various drivers around like shadows, and every few meters someone seemed determined to stop Charles for a greeting. Being in Monaco with Charles Leclerc felt less like walking beside a Formula One driver and more like walking beside a member of the royal family.

—You got stopped like fourteen times before the paddock entrance,— Lando pointed out.—

—Exactly,— Charles replied immediately. —Every five meters somebody wanted a picture. Then somebody's grandmother wanted to tell me she knew me when I was six. Then somebody's uncle wanted to discuss Ferrari strategy from 2018. Then somebody's dog recognized me.—

—The dog recognized you?—

—The dog was the least stressful conversation of the morning.—

Lando laughed loudly enough that several nearby team members turned briefly toward them before continuing on their way. Charles looked deeply offended by the entire situation, which only made it funnier.

—At least you had an excuse,— Charles continued. —What's yours?—

The question earned an immediate grin from Lando.

Unfortunately for Charles, it was exactly the grin that usually signaled trouble.

—Well,— Lando started casually. —It's not every day you get to wake up with absolutely nothing to worry about and Amelie next to...—

—Nope.— Charles interrupted him instantly. —Absolutely not.—

Lando immediately started laughing.

Charles pointed a warning finger at him before Lando could finish the sentence, already looking offended on behalf of his own peace of mind.

—No. I refuse to hear the rest of that story,— Charles declared firmly while continuing toward the Ferrari side of the paddock. —Whatever sentence you were about to finish belongs in your head and nowhere near my ears.—

Lando's laugh only grew louder.

The image of Charles realizing exactly where that explanation had been heading was apparently the funniest thing he'd encountered all morning. Around them, photographers continued moving through the paddock while mechanics crossed between motorhomes carrying equipment and laptops. The entire place buzzed with that familiar Monaco energy, busy despite the fact that the actual racing hadn't started yet.

—I wasn't even going to say anything bad,— Lando protested through a grin that made it obvious he absolutely had been.

Charles looked horrified.

—You literally started that sentence with "waking up next to Amelie,"— he replied. —There is nowhere appropriate for that story to go after those words.—

—You're making assumptions.—

—Because I've known you for years.—

Lando shook his head, still laughing while Charles rubbed a hand over his face like a man carrying a burden nobody appreciated enough.

—I spend enough time around you two already,— Charles continued dramatically. —I do not need a detailed report every morning. Some things should remain private.—

—Who said anything about a detailed report?—

—Lando.— Charles stopped walking long enough to give him an unimpressed look. —I'm begging you. Respect me as a human being.—

That only made Lando laugh harder.

The two of them continued through the paddock, weaving around engineers, hospitality staff, photographers, and various people trying to get from one side of Monaco to the other without getting trapped in conversations. The stewards' meeting was already fading into the background now, replaced by the familiar rhythm of race weekend. Charles kept muttering complaints under his breath about unnecessary penalties while Lando occasionally added fuel to the fire just to watch his friend get even more offended.

—You know what the worst part is?— Charles said after a moment. —They acted like we committed some massive crime.—

—We were literally standing still.—

—Exactly. If I'm going to get penalized, at least let me do something interesting first.—

Lando snorted.

—That's probably not the lesson they're hoping you take from this.—

—Too late.—

They rounded another corner, the McLaren motorhome now visible ahead in the distance among the rows of hospitality buildings and team structures. The entire paddock buzzed with activity around them, cameras moving between drivers, journalists preparing for interviews, and team personnel hurrying from one meeting to another.

The sight waiting near the entrance of the McLaren motorhome immediately caught Lando's attention before anything else around him did.

One second he was listening to Charles continue his increasingly dramatic complaints about the stewards, and the next his eyes landed on a familiar figure standing beside Mia near the entrance. Amelie was half-turned toward the PR manager, sunlight catching against the soft yellow top she was wearing while fitted jeans and heels somehow made the casual outfit look far more expensive than it probably was. One hand moved animatedly while she spoke, her sunglasses pushed up into her hair, and even from this distance Lando could recognize the exact expression she wore whenever she was telling a story.

A smile appeared on his face instantly.

It happened so automatically he didn't even realize he'd done it.

Beside him, Charles noticed immediately.

—There it is,— Charles sighed dramatically. —I was wondering how long it would take.—

—What?—

—That stupid smile you get every time you see her.—

Lando didn't even bother denying it.

The grin only widened slightly as they continued walking toward the entrance. Around them, team personnel moved in and out of the motorhome while cameras followed various drivers through the paddock. None of it held his attention anymore. Amelie was laughing at something Mia had said now, one hand resting against the railing beside her while the Monaco sunlight painted warm gold through her hair.

The smile never left Lando's face as they got closer.

If anything, it became worse.

Amelie spotted them a few seconds later and immediately straightened, her attention leaving Mia as her eyes landed on the two drivers approaching. The reaction was instant. Her face brightened in that familiar way that always seemed to make something warm settle inside Lando's chest, no matter how many times he saw it.

Charles noticed that too.

Unfortunately.

—This is unbearable,— Charles informed nobody in particular while continuing forward.

—Good to see you too, mate,— Lando replied.

—I'm talking about both of you now.—

By the time they reached the entrance, Mia was already smiling knowingly.

Amelie looked entirely unbothered by Charles' suffering.

—Hi,— she greeted, pushing her sunglasses fully onto the top of her head.

Charles reached her first.

His expression softened immediately as he leaned in and pressed two quick kisses against her cheeks in greeting, the way he always had.

—Meels,— he said warmly.

—Charlie,— she answered with a grin.

Then it was Lando's turn.

Neither of them seemed particularly interested in pretending they hadn't spent the last several days together.

His hand settled automatically against her waist while he leaned down to kiss her softly. It wasn't long. It wasn't dramatic. Just familiar. Comfortable. The kind of greeting that came naturally after years of loving someone.

When he pulled back slightly, his hand stayed exactly where it was.

—What are you doing here?— he asked.

Amelie immediately pointed an accusing finger at herself before letting out an exaggerated sigh, already looking guilty.

—I forgot my keys inside the apartment,— she admitted.

The confession was accompanied by the exact expression of someone who knew perfectly well that nobody present was going to be surprised by that information. Her shoulders lifted in a small shrug while she adjusted the strap of her bag, looking completely unapologetic about the fact that she had somehow managed to lock herself out of her own home.

Lando stared at her for approximately two seconds before nodding.

That sounded exactly like something Amelie would do.

Especially lately, now that she was spending more and more time moving around Monaco without security attached to her every movement. Back in Los Angeles or during larger events there was usually someone keeping track of things she forgot. Keys. Wallets. Phones. Entire bags. Unfortunately for everyone involved, Monaco had apparently given her enough freedom to become a public menace.

—How?— Lando asked, already reaching into his pocket for his own keys.

Amelie accepted the question as though it were completely reasonable.

—I went to lunch with Alexandra,— she explained. —Then I came back and realized my keys were still inside because apparently I'm incapable of functioning like a normal adult.—

Charles immediately rolled his eyes.

Not dramatically enough to be theatrical, but with the deeply resigned expression of someone who had known her for years and considered this development entirely predictable. He crossed his arms loosely over his chest while Lando pulled his keyring free from his pocket, already knowing exactly how the rest of this conversation was going to go.

—That is genuinely the least surprising thing you've ever told me,— Charles informed her.

Amelie looked offended for approximately half a second before immediately pointing toward Charles like she was preparing a legal defense.

—In my defense, this only happened because I went out without security,— she argued. —Usually somebody responsible exists nearby to stop me from accidentally locking myself out of my own home.—

Charles looked entirely unconvinced.

—That is somehow making the situation worse, not better,— he informed her.

Mia visibly failed to hide a smile while Amelie rolled her eyes dramatically, already abandoning the argument because she knew she wasn't going to win it. Beside her, Lando just shook his head fondly, his hand still resting against her waist while she continued looking far too pleased with herself for someone who had just admitted she couldn't be trusted with a set of keys.

The moment stretched comfortably between them for another few seconds before Charles glanced toward the Ferrari side of the paddock and let out a resigned sigh. Whatever amusement he'd managed to find in this conversation was unfortunately competing with an interview schedule that waited for nobody.

—Right,— he said reluctantly. —Unlike some people, I actually have somewhere to be.—

Amelie immediately smiled.

—You say that like you're not secretly thrilled to leave us alone.—

—Meels, I've spent the last ten minutes watching the two of you look at each other like you've survived a war,— Charles replied. —I am leaving for my own wellbeing.—

Charles didn't even wait for a response after that.

He pointed briefly between the two of them as though issuing one final warning to the universe before turning and heading back toward the Ferrari motorhome. Amelie watched him disappear into the crowd of engineers, journalists, and hospitality staff moving through the paddock before laughing softly under her breath. Beside her, Lando shook his head fondly, already unsurprised by Charles' complete inability to tolerate their relationship for longer than necessary.

—He's so dramatic,— Amelie observed.

—That's rich coming from you,— Lando replied immediately.

She gasped in fake offense, pressing a hand dramatically against her chest as though personally wounded by the accusation while Mia failed to hide another smile beside them.

Mia finally excused herself a moment later, claiming she had approximately seventeen different problems waiting for her inside the motorhome and none of them involved rescuing grown adults from their own forgotten keys. The second she disappeared through the entrance, Amelie immediately leaned into Lando's side again, already stealing half his personal space without asking permission. He didn't even react anymore. At some point years ago she'd quietly claimed ownership over every available inch of his life and he had never bothered trying to get it back.

—Come on,— he said, nudging her lightly toward the entrance. —Let's go rescue you from the consequences of your own actions.—

—Thank you for your service,— she replied solemnly.

The second they stepped inside, the difference from the old motorhome was obvious.

The new structure felt bigger, brighter, and somehow even more crowded despite the extra space. Team members moved through hallways carrying laptops and headsets, conversations overlapping from every direction while television screens displayed schedules, timing information, and endless streams of race weekend logistics. The entire building hummed with activity, carrying that particular energy unique to Formula One where everybody seemed simultaneously stressed and excited.

Amelie immediately slowed her pace.

Her attention drifted from one detail to another while Lando guided her further inside, one hand settled comfortably against the small of her back. He had walked through the motorhome enough times already that most of the novelty had worn off. For her, however, it was still new.

They moved slowly through the motorhome, mostly because Amelie kept stopping every few meters to look at something new while Lando patiently followed beside her. His arm remained wrapped loosely around her waist the entire time, occasionally tightening whenever she drifted too far away before pulling her back toward him again. Around them, McLaren personnel hurried between meetings and interviews, but nobody seemed particularly surprised by the sight anymore. If anything, most people barely looked twice. After years of watching them together, the paddock had largely accepted that personal space simply ceased to exist whenever Amelie and Lando occupied the same room.

—This is so much bigger than the old one,— Amelie observed while looking around.

—Thank God,— Lando replied immediately. —You should've seen some of the meetings we used to cram into those rooms. It was basically human Tetris.—

Amelie laughed softly before allowing him to guide her toward the staircase. The movement felt automatic by now, her hand slipping into his without either of them consciously deciding to do it. The noise from the lower floor faded slightly as they climbed higher, leaving behind the constant flow of engineers, media personnel, and hospitality staff moving through the building below.

The upper level felt noticeably quieter.

Large windows allowed sunlight to flood through the hallway while various driver rooms and meeting spaces lined either side. Amelie's attention drifted everywhere at once, taking in details she hadn't seen before while Lando continued leading her forward. Every few steps he leaned down to press a kiss against her temple, her cheek, or the side of her head without interrupting whatever conversation they were having.

—You know,— Lando began casually as they approached the elevator. —This driver's room is significantly larger now.—

Amelie immediately narrowed her eyes.

The suspicious look arrived so quickly that Lando started laughing before he had even finished speaking.

The suspicious look arrived so quickly that Lando started laughing before he had even finished speaking.

—Why are you looking at me like that?— he asked, already grinning.

—Because every time you start a sentence with "you know" and then mention square footage, you're about to say something deeply inappropriate,— Amelie informed him.

Lando pressed a hand dramatically against his chest as the elevator doors slid open in front of them, pretending to be offended by the accusation despite the fact that she was completely right.

—I think that's a very unfair assumption,— he replied while guiding her inside.

Amelie stepped into the elevator first, immediately turning to look at him with an expression that clearly said she wasn't buying any of that.

—Lando, I have known you for years. I know exactly how your brain works.—

—That's a terrifying thing to admit out loud,— he replied.

The elevator doors closed and began moving upward, leaving them briefly alone in the quiet space. Lando's hand found hers automatically, intertwining their fingers as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Amelie squeezed his hand once and shook her head fondly while he continued looking entirely too pleased with himself.

—All I'm saying,— Lando continued innocently, which immediately made Amelie suspicious again, —is that this room is considerably more comfortable than the old one.—

—There it is,— she interrupted immediately.

—What?—

—The thing I knew was coming.—

Lando laughed loudly enough that his shoulders shook while the elevator continued climbing. By the time the doors opened again, he was still grinning.

The hallway was quiet compared to the chaos downstairs, sunlight spilling through the large windows and reflecting softly across the floor. Lando immediately guided her toward his driver's room, one arm slipping comfortably around her waist while they walked side by side. Every few steps he leaned down to press a quick kiss against her temple, clearly incapable of keeping his hands to himself for longer than thirty seconds.

—You know people can see us, right?— Amelie asked, laughing softly as another kiss landed against her hair.

—And?—

—Nothing. Just checking.—

—Good. Carry on then.—

Amelie rolled her eyes, although the smile pulling at her mouth made it clear she wasn't complaining.

A few moments later Lando pushed open the door to his driver's room and immediately stepped inside.

The difference from the previous motorhome was obvious. The space felt larger, brighter, and significantly less cramped than the room he'd worked from during previous seasons. A large desk occupied one side, various screens and equipment were already set up, and there was enough room to actually move around without immediately bumping into furniture.

Amelie slowly looked around.

—Okay, this is actually nice,— she admitted.

She wandered further into the room while he headed straight toward the desk, already knowing exactly where his backpack had been abandoned earlier that morning. Around them, the space felt noticeably more comfortable than the previous driver's room. There was actually room to walk without bumping into things every few seconds, enough space for meetings that didn't feel like everyone had been packed into a storage closet, and significantly better lighting pouring through the windows overlooking the paddock.

—Nice?— Lando repeated dramatically while digging through his bag. —This is luxury. Do you know how many times I've nearly concussed myself in the old room trying to get changed in a space the size of a shoebox?—

Amelie laughed softly while continuing her slow inspection of the room.

—You are so dramatic,— she informed him over her shoulder.

—I learned from the best,— he replied immediately.

The answer earned an offended gasp from across the room.

Lando barely had time to enjoy it before finally spotting his keys buried underneath a collection of notebooks, headphones, and enough miscellaneous Formula One equipment to survive a small apocalypse. He grabbed them immediately, already preparing to hand them over before his next interview inevitably stole him away again.

Unfortunately, the moment he looked up, he found Amelie standing near the opposite side of the room completely distracted by something else.

His helmet.

The special Monaco helmet sat displayed carefully near the workstation, half fluorescent yellow and half McLaren orange, created to celebrate the team's thousandth Grand Prix weekend. The bright colors practically glowed beneath the afternoon sunlight filtering through the windows.

Amelie stared at it for several seconds.

Then she visibly grimaced.

Lando immediately started laughing.

Still holding the keys, he crossed the room toward her and slipped both arms around her waist from behind, pulling her gently back against his chest. His chin settled briefly against her shoulder while he pressed a soft kiss against the side of her neck.

—What's that face for?— he asked quietly.

Amelie pointed toward the helmet without hesitation.

—They ruined my painting with that horrendous orange,— she declared dramatically, narrowing her eyes at the display like it had personally offended her.

Lando's laugh vibrated against her shoulder immediately.

His arms tightened slightly around her waist while he rested his chin there again, looking at the helmet over her shoulder with far more appreciation than she seemed capable of summoning.

—It's not your painting,— he reminded her.

—It was until somebody attacked it with a traffic cone color palette.—

Lando grinned.

The keys dangled loosely from one of his hands while he pressed another quick kiss against the side of her neck, clearly enjoying this far too much.

—Do you know they literally had to create a new LEGO color for this?— he asked proudly.

Amelie slowly turned her head toward him.

The expression she gave him suggested she had never heard a more concerning sentence in her life.

—Of course they did,— she replied. —Nobody on Earth is as obsessed with fluo yellow as you are.—

Lando finally turned her around properly inside his arms.

The movement was easy and familiar, one of his hands settling against her lower back while the other still held her keys. Amelie immediately looped both arms around his neck, already stealing another step closer until there was barely any space left between them. The smile on her face softened the second their eyes met.

The smile on Lando's face widened immediately.

—I know,— he admitted shamelessly, lowering his head just enough to brush his nose against hers. —And yet somehow you're still here.—

—A mystery for the ages,— Amelie replied, although the grin tugging at her mouth completely ruined any attempt at sounding serious.

Lando laughed softly before leaning down and kissing her. It was quick, warm, familiar, the kind of kiss that happened naturally after years of finding reasons to touch each other. His hand remained steady against her lower back while Amelie stayed wrapped around his neck, her fingers playing absentmindedly with the hair at the nape of it.

—The orange side is horrible though,— he admitted quietly after pulling back.

The admission immediately earned a delighted smile from Amelie.

She tilted her head slightly, pretending to consider the statement with all the seriousness of a Formula One technical directive before shaking it once.

—See? Even you know it,— she informed him. —You can always just spend the entire weekend looking this way.—

One of her hands slid up to cup the side of his face while she pointed dramatically toward the fluorescent yellow half of the helmet with the other.

—Then nobody has to look at the orange.—

Lando burst out laughing.

The sound echoed softly through the driver's room as he dropped his forehead briefly against hers, shoulders shaking. Every time she decided to wage war against McLaren orange, she somehow found a new argument for it. The fact that she genuinely looked offended by the existence of half his helmet only made it funnier.

The moment stretched for another few seconds, both of them still smiling at each other while sunlight spilled across the driver's room and reflected softly off the bright colors of the helmet display. Amelie looked entirely too pleased with herself after winning yet another completely unnecessary argument about McLaren orange, and Lando was already preparing some equally ridiculous defense when the door suddenly swung open without warning.

Both of them turned immediately.

Mia froze in the doorway for half a second, clearly not expecting to walk directly into whatever this was. Her eyes flickered briefly between them, taking in Amelie's arms around Lando's neck, Lando's hand resting against her waist, and the fact that neither seemed remotely embarrassed about being caught.

—Sorry to interrupt,— Mia said quickly, although her expression suggested she had interrupted this exact scenario enough times to stop being surprised by it. —But you were supposed to be downstairs three minutes ago. The thousandth race photo is starting right now.—

Lando closed his eyes briefly.

The timing felt personally offensive.

His forehead dropped forward until it rested against Amelie's shoulder while he let out a long suffering sigh that immediately made her laugh.

—That's tragic,— Amelie informed him sympathetically, not sounding sympathetic at all.

—I am busy,— Lando complained.

—Unfortunately, the entire team is also busy,— Mia replied before he could continue arguing. —Which is why they're currently looking for their driver.—

Lando groaned dramatically while Amelie smiled over his shoulder toward Mia, already far more cooperative than he was being. One of her hands slid up into his hair, brushing through it affectionately while he continued pretending this was the greatest injustice he'd ever suffered.

—You should probably go,— Amelie told him softly.

—I don't want to,— he answered immediately.

The response arrived so quickly that both women laughed.

Lando finally lifted his head and looked at her properly again, still keeping one hand settled firmly against her waist like letting go might somehow cause her to disappear. Amelie simply smiled back at him, looking entirely unconcerned by the fact that he was behaving like a child being forced to attend school.

—You have interviews,— she reminded him gently.

—Unfortunately.—

—You have a team photo.—

—Even more unfortunately.—

Amelie laughed again before reaching for the keys still trapped in his hand. The movement finally seemed to remind him why she'd come in the first place. He looked down at them, then at her, before reluctantly placing them into her palm.

—Try not to lose these too,— he said.

—No promises,— she replied honestly.

Mia actually snorted.

The sound earned her an offended look from Lando while Amelie looked far too proud of herself. The entire situation felt painfully predictable. If anything, the only surprising part was that she had managed to make it until lunchtime before locking herself out of the apartment.

—See? Nobody believes in me,— Amelie complained.

—You've given us years of evidence not to,— Lando pointed out.

Amelie gasped dramatically before leaning forward and kissing him again, clearly deciding that was an appropriate response to being attacked. The kiss was brief but warm, carrying the kind of familiarity that came from years of friendship before love had ever entered the equation.

—I'll see you at home,— she murmured softly.

The words settled somewhere deep inside his chest.

Home.

Not the apartment.

Not your place.

Home.

Somehow, somewhere along the way, those things had become the same.

Lando smiled automatically before leaning down and pressing one final kiss against her forehead.

—I'll be there as soon as I can,— he promised.

—Good,— she replied. —Because I'm ordering from that Italian place and if you make me wait too long, I'm eating your tiramisu too.—

Lando looked horrified.

—You wouldn't.—

—Watch me.—

The threat was serious enough that he almost considered skipping the photo.

Almost.

Amelie laughed at the expression on his face before finally stepping away and moving toward the door. She paused beside Mia long enough to offer a quick thank you before slipping back out into the hallway, her heels disappearing around the corner a few seconds later.

The room felt quieter immediately.

Lando stood there for a moment longer than necessary, staring at the now-empty doorway while the keys' absence felt strangely symbolic. The apartment waiting for him later wasn't just somewhere he slept anymore. It wasn't another temporary address collected throughout a career spent moving from one country to another.

It was her shoes left in impossible places.

It was half-finished coffees abandoned on countertops.

It was Charlie following her around the apartment despite pretending to love Lando more.

It was movie nights and takeout containers and arguments about McLaren orange.

It was someone waiting for him at the end of a long day.

Mia cleared her throat pointedly.

—The photo, Romeo.—

Lando blinked.

—Right.—

The smile that appeared on his face this time was smaller than before but somehow meant more. He followed Mia out into the hallway, already heading toward another round of interviews, cameras, meetings, and obligations.

For the first time all day, though, the weight that had been sitting in his chest felt lighter.

Because no matter how long the schedule became, no matter how chaotic Monaco got over the next few days, eventually he would walk back through that apartment door, and Amelie would be there.

Somewhere between forgotten keys, stolen tiramisu, and whatever disaster she accidentally created next, he had somehow found the thing he'd spent years chasing without realizing it.

A home.

--------------

liked by softfilms, ameliedayman, and others

lando: Shabang

View all 1,304 comments

ameliedayman: shabang → lando: copyright infringement → ameliecore: THEY'RE SO ANNOYING 😭 → papayagirl: couple humor final boss

maxfewtrell: delete the last photo → lando: no

ciscanorris1: cute photo at the end 🤍 → flo_norris_shojumping: finally someone said it → lando: thank you cisca → papayagirl: HIS SISTERS 😭

softamelie: the blurry scooter pic is exactly the type of photo men think is artistic 😭 → goldenhouramelie: and unfortunately it kind of is → sunsetamelie: hate that you're right

raceweekendd: posting your girlfriend tucked into your shoulder and then captioning it "shabang" is insane 😭 → cherryvibes: peak male behavior

flo_norris_shojumping: i took exactly zero of these → lando: skill issue → loveroflan: sibling interactions undefeated → lanmeliehub: 😭😭😭

oscarpiastri: nice scooter → lando: thanks oscar → oscarpiastri: you're welcome

alex_albon: blurry photo goes hard → lando: artistic → alex_albon: sure → papayadreams: alex never entertains him 😭

georgerussell63: shabang → lando: shabang → cherryvibes: what does this mean → dreamygirlie: nobody knows

charles_leclerc: monaco resident → lando: barely → loveroflan: 😭😭😭

quadrant: final photo 🥹

amelievibes: okay but the fan photo is actually sweet 🥹 → cherryvibes: he always takes time for fans → dreamygirlie: one of my favorite things about him

lanfan44: nobody talking about how good he looked in the navy shirt 😭 → papayaprincess: because we got distracted

maxverstappen1: that helmet again → lando: yes → maxverstappen1: okay → dreamygirlie: fascinating conversation

teamamelie: fourth photo 🤍 → ameliedayman: surprise appearance → lando: biggest star in the dump → loveroflan: OH HE'S GONE

carlossainz55: scooter merchant → lando: race car merchant

f1fairytale: i know max fewtrell threw his phone across the room when he saw photo 4 😭 → lovergirlie: immediately commented too → paddockangel: traumatized once again

goldenpapaya: the progression from scooter → fans → girlfriend 😭 → cherrysoda: his priorities are visible

mclaren: media day but make it aesthetic → lando: exactly → softamelie: social media admin gets it

papayagirl: THE LAST PHOTO HELLO????? → loveroflan: casually dropped at the end → lanmeliehub: like we wouldn't notice 😭

ameliecore: him posting that balcony photo himself is CRAZY → goldenhouramelie: he's never beating the obsessed allegations

sunsetamelie: the way they're holding each other's waists 🥹 → goldenhouramelie: your honor they're in love → softclouds: evidence number 8473

papayadreams: photo 4 and suddenly i forgot every other picture existed 😭 → loveroflan: same

coastalgirlie: lando posting relationship content himself will never feel normal 😭 → moonlightvibes: remember when they hid for years → raceweekendd: character development

—Tomorrow's going to be painful,— Lando announced, leaning back in his chair as he folded one hand behind his head. —Champions League final and I won't even be able to watch it.—

Across from him, Max immediately snorted.

—That's because you're busy.—

The emphasis on busy carried enough meaning that Pietra had to hide a smile behind her cards.

Lando rolled his eyes immediately, though the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth made it obvious he knew exactly what Max meant. Tomorrow's schedule had been planned for weeks, every detail coordinated around Callum and Dua's civil wedding, and while none of them had any intention of discussing someone else's family event on a public stream, the reality remained that the Champions League final was happening at exactly the wrong time. The fact that he was going to miss one of the biggest football matches of the year was a tragedy he had already complained about to at least seven different people.

—Very funny,— Lando muttered, throwing another chip into the pot. —I'm making sacrifices.—

—You're attending something important,— Pietra corrected, trying and failing to hide her amusement as she reorganized one of her towers of chips after Max accidentally knocked part of it over with his elbow. —There are worse things than missing a football match.—

—Name one,— Lando replied immediately, earning an eye roll from both Max and Pietra at the exact same time.

The synchronized reaction made the stream chat explode.

Messages flew past faster than before, dozens of viewers apparently finding it significantly more entertaining that Pietra and Max had become united in their judgment of Lando than whatever poker game was currently unfolding on the table. Max barely glanced at the monitor before throwing another chip into the center pile, looking entirely too pleased with himself as he leaned back in his chair.

—You're acting like somebody forced you into hard labor,— Max said, glancing briefly toward the stream chat before looking back at his cards. The late afternoon sunlight had shifted enough that half the living room now glowed gold, reflecting off the glass walls and turning the apartment into something straight out of a luxury real estate advertisement. —You get free food, free drinks, and a reason to wear a suit. You'll survive.—

—That's easy for you to say. You'll be sitting on your sofa watching football like a civilized human being.—

—Civilized is not a word anyone has ever used to describe you.—

—Fair.—

Pietra laughed into her hand while collecting a small pile of chips from the center of the table, apparently the only person actually paying attention to the poker game anymore. The stream chat had completely abandoned any interest in cards twenty minutes ago and was now almost entirely debating football predictions, wedding guest outfit guesses, and whether Lando was bluffing. Considering he had spent the last ten minutes dramatically pretending to study a hand that was probably terrible, the answer was almost certainly yes.

—So who's winning then?— Pietra asked, resting her elbows on the table while looking between the two drivers. —Actual predictions.—

Lando immediately pointed toward himself with complete confidence, not even bothering to look down at his cards as he did so. The movement was dramatic enough that several poker chips slid across the table, earning a deeply unimpressed look from Pietra while the stream chat predictably exploded into arguments. The monitor beside them had become a blur of football opinions at this point, thousands of viewers apparently deciding that discussing the Champions League final was significantly more important than whatever game of poker was theoretically still taking place.

—PSG,— Lando announced firmly, leaning back in his chair. —I think they take it.—

Max immediately made a face that suggested he had just been personally insulted. The reaction arrived so quickly that even Pietra started laughing before he opened his mouth, because everyone in the apartment already knew exactly what was coming next. The stream chat seemed to know too, messages accelerating across the monitor as football fans prepared for the argument they could see approaching from miles away.

—Traitor,— Max informed him.

Max immediately made a face that suggested he had just been personally insulted. He tossed a chip into the center of the table with far more force than necessary before pointing accusingly across the cards at Lando, earning a laugh from Pietra in the process. The sunlight had shifted lower over London now, turning the apartment amber and gold while the sea glittered beyond the windows. On the monitor beside them, the stream chat was moving so quickly that entire arguments appeared and disappeared within seconds, thousands of viewers debating football predictions with the same intensity most people reserved for politics. Max glanced toward the screen briefly before shaking his head.

—I want Arsenal to win,— he declared. —English club. Good story. It would be nice. Besides, if I have to listen to football fans all summer, I'd rather the English ones be happy.—

Lando let out a laugh and immediately shook his head, pushing a small pile of chips absentmindedly between his fingers while looking down at his cards. The expression on his face carried just enough innocence to make it obvious he was about to lie, which only caused Pietra to groan before he had even opened his mouth. Across the table, Max was already smiling because he knew exactly where this conversation was heading, and more importantly, he knew exactly how much Lando hated when certain topics appeared on stream.

—You don't actually care about Arsenal winning,— Lando informed him confidently. —You just want an excuse to be annoying.—

—That's rich coming from you.—

—I'm serious.—

—You're never serious.—

The stream chat seemed delighted by the argument immediately. Messages flew by so quickly they were almost impossible to read, viewers already debating football, accusing both drivers of bias, and attempting to determine whether either of them actually understood poker anymore. Somewhere beneath the table Rio barked once in his sleep, entirely unaware that his owners were busy creating chaos for several thousand people online. The atmosphere inside the apartment remained comfortably relaxed, the kind that always developed when friends had been sitting around together for hours with nowhere else to be.

Max's grin widened immediately, the kind of grin that should have served as a warning to everyone involved. Unfortunately for Lando, he recognized that expression far too late. Pietra saw it too and immediately lowered her cards, already preparing herself for whatever nonsense was about to come out of her husband's mouth. The stream chat sensed danger at the exact same moment, messages accelerating even faster as thousands of viewers collectively realized Max was about to weaponize information he absolutely should not have.

—No,— Pietra said immediately, already pointing a warning finger at her boyfriend before he could speak. —Absolutely not.—

The fact that she reacted that quickly only encouraged Max further. His grin widened into something genuinely dangerous as he leaned back in his chair, completely ignoring the look of betrayal Lando was already sending across the poker table.

The stream chat immediately sensed blood in the water. Thousands of viewers were now spamming messages fast enough to turn the monitor into a blur of color and emotes while Max took his time, enjoying the moment far more than any reasonable person should have. Across from him, Lando already knew exactly where this was headed and hated every second of it. The problem wasn't that Max knew things. The problem was that Max enjoyed knowing things. There was a very important difference.

—I'm just saying,— Max began innocently, which was how everyone knew he was about to be the opposite of innocent, —for someone who's supposedly neutral, it's very interesting that you don't want Arsenal to win.—

Lando narrowed his eyes immediately, the reaction arriving so quickly that it only made Max look more pleased with himself. Across the table, Pietra physically covered her face with one hand while letting out a long sigh that suggested she had witnessed this exact chain of events enough times to know there was no stopping it now.

The poker game had been completely abandoned at this point, forgotten beneath stacks of chips and half-finished drinks while the stream chat accelerated into pure chaos. Thousands of viewers sensed that some piece of information existed just outside their reach, and unfortunately for Lando, Max Fewtrell possessed the exact personality type required to enjoy dangling that information in front of people without ever actually revealing anything useful.

—Don't,— Lando warned immediately, pointing a card at him across the table.

—I'm not saying anything,— Max replied, which was exactly what someone said before saying something.

—Max.—

—I'm just making an observation.—

—You're incapable of making observations.—

—That's fair.—

The fact that Max agreed so quickly somehow made the situation worse. Pietra was already laughing into her hand while Lando stared at his best friend with the expression of a man reconsidering every life choice that had led him to this dining table. Outside the apartment windows, the Mediterranean shimmered beneath the late afternoon sun while inside, several thousand viewers were now attempting to decode a conversation they lacked approximately ninety-eight percent of the context for.

Max leaned back further in his chair, entirely too comfortable.

The smug look on Max's face only grew wider as he prepared to continue whatever argument he had spent the last five minutes constructing, clearly delighted by the fact that Lando looked seconds away from launching a poker chip directly at his forehead. The stream chat had become completely unusable by now, thousands of viewers attempting to piece together a mystery they had absolutely no context for while Max enjoyed every second of their collective confusion. Across the table, Pietra glanced between the two men before opening her mouth to intervene, only for the sharp sound of the apartment's doorbell echoing through the living room to interrupt the conversation completely.

The timing was so perfect it almost felt staged.

Pietra immediately seized the opportunity like a hostage spotting an open escape route.

—Oh thank God,— she announced dramatically, dropping her cards onto the table before either driver could protest. —Someone's here.—

Max narrowed his eyes.

—Coward.—

—Absolutely,— Pietra agreed without hesitation while already pushing her chair back. —And proud of it.—

The stream chat exploded with accusations that she was abandoning them at the exact moment things had become interesting, but Pietra ignored every single one of them as she disappeared toward the entrance hallway. The moment she was gone, an awkward silence settled over the poker table. Not because either of them lacked things to say, but because Max was still visibly considering whether he should continue whatever train wreck he had been about to start.

Lando pointed a chip at him immediately, the warning arriving before Max could even open his mouth again.

The gesture only made Max look more entertained.

For several seconds neither of them said anything, both apparently aware that continuing the conversation would inevitably end with one of them regretting it. The stream chat, unfortunately, had no such self-preservation instincts. Messages flew past in a blur of theories, accusations, and increasingly ridiculous attempts to decode whatever secret they had just missed. Some viewers were convinced it involved football. Others were convinced it involved Formula One. A surprisingly large percentage seemed convinced it involved neither and were now inventing entirely new conspiracies from scratch.

Max glanced toward the monitor and immediately regretted it.

—These people are insane,— he muttered, shaking his head.

—You're the one who encouraged them,— Lando replied, gathering a small stack of chips into a neat pile. —You practically handed them a mystery and then walked away.—

—That's because your reaction was funny.—

—You have the emotional maturity of a twelve-year-old.—

—And yet I'm still beating you at poker.—

—You folded three rounds ago.—

—Details.—

The conversation drifted comfortably into nonsense after that, neither of them particularly invested in football anymore now that the argument had been interrupted. Max started talking about a golf trip someone was trying to organize, which naturally evolved into a debate about who was actually good at golf versus who simply owned expensive clubs. The stream chat immediately latched onto that instead, abandoning football theories in favor of insulting both drivers' handicaps.

From somewhere in the hallway came the muffled sound of voices.

Then laughter.

Then Charlie's unmistakable bark.

Lando's attention shifted toward the doorway almost instantly.

The reaction was automatic enough that Max noticed immediately.

—There he goes,— Max muttered.

—Shut up.—

—Didn't even try to deny it.—

—Because I'm tired of denying things that are objectively true.—

The sound of approaching footsteps carried down the hallway a few seconds later, accompanied by Charlie's increasingly excited panting and the rapid clicking of nails against hardwood floors. Whatever conversation Max had been about to continue died naturally as both drivers glanced toward the entrance, their attention shifting away from the abandoned poker game and toward the movement approaching from the other room. Even the stream chat seemed to collectively notice something was happening, messages accelerating even faster as viewers immediately began guessing who had arrived.

Lando didn't realize he was already smiling until Max looked at him and rolled his eyes so hard it looked physically painful.

The first thing to appear was Charlie.

The golden retriever came barreling into the living room like a dog who had spent the last ten minutes holding in enough excitement to power a small city. His tail wagged violently behind him while he pulled slightly against the lead, tongue hanging out and ears bouncing with every step. Rio lifted his head immediately from where he had been napping nearby, and within seconds both dogs were staring at each other with the intensity of two old friends about to commit several crimes together.

The conversation at the table died almost instantly when Amelie stepped into the living room behind him.

She had clearly come straight from one of the final wedding fittings. A long garment bag hung over her arm, the zipper fully closed to protect whatever dress was hidden inside, while Charlie practically vibrated beside her on the leash from the effort of containing his excitement. A few loose strands of blonde hair had escaped whatever clip she had thrown it into earlier, framing her face as she looked between the room and the people inside it with complete innocence.

The innocence lasted approximately three seconds.

Mostly because she hadn't realized they were streaming.

Amelie's eyebrows lifted slightly the second she noticed the cameras, the monitor, and the stream chat flying by at impossible speeds. For a brief moment she simply stood there holding Charlie's leash and the garment bag, looking between the setup and the three people at the table as if trying to determine whether she'd accidentally walked into a business meeting or an intervention. The realization settled across her face almost immediately, followed by a dramatic sigh that made Lando laugh before she had even said anything. Behind her, Charlie chose that exact moment to completely lose interest in behaving, his tail wagging hard enough to nearly knock into her legs while Rio was already scrambling to his feet across the room.

—Oh God, you're streaming,— she said, sounding personally betrayed by the discovery.

Pietra, who had followed her back into the room, immediately pointed toward the drivers.

—I tried to save you.—

—Clearly not very hard.—

The stream chat exploded the second her voice appeared. Messages accelerated so quickly they became impossible to read, viewers immediately abandoning poker, football, and golf in favor of whatever was happening now. Amelie looked at the monitor for approximately two seconds before deciding she wanted absolutely no part of that experience and walked further into the room instead. The garment bag remained draped over her arm while Charlie practically dragged her toward Rio, the two dogs already whining excitedly at each other from opposite sides of the living room.

Without thinking much about it, she carefully laid the garment bag across the empty section of the couch before crouching down to unclip Charlie's leash.

The second the lead came off, all remaining self-control disappeared.

Charlie launched himself toward Rio like a missile.

Rio immediately responded with equal enthusiasm.

Within seconds both dogs were racing around the living room in chaotic circles, nails clicking across hardwood floors while Pietra groaned at the destruction she could already see coming. Charlie's ears bounced wildly as he chased Rio behind the couch, only for Rio to immediately reverse directions and chase him back the other way. The entire apartment suddenly felt louder.

Lando's smile widened instinctively the moment he saw her, the reaction so immediate and automatic that Max physically gagged before Amelie had even finished unclipping Charlie's leash.

—Jesus Christ,— Max muttered, dropping back into his chair. —Look at him.—

—What?— Lando asked, already standing.

—Exactly.—

The stream chat immediately lost whatever remained of its collective sanity.

Amelie, blissfully ignoring all of them, straightened back up after freeing Charlie and brushed her hands against the sides of her jeans. The garment bag rested carefully across the couch cushions behind her, the dress inside protected beneath the cover while the two dogs continued tearing through the apartment like tiny furry tornadoes. Charlie was already trying to convince Rio to participate in something that looked suspiciously illegal.

Lando's attention had already locked onto her long before she reached him.

The smile that had appeared on his face the moment she stepped into the room hadn't disappeared once, which was precisely why Max looked increasingly disgusted every time he glanced in his direction. It wasn't even subtle anymore. Lando wasn't attempting to act normal. He wasn't pretending he hadn't immediately stopped paying attention to the poker game the second Amelie walked through the door. The poor chips he'd been organizing moments earlier had been completely abandoned on the table, forgotten in favor of watching her crouch down to free Charlie.

The stream chat, unfortunately, noticed absolutely everything.

Amelie barely had time to straighten fully before Lando crossed the remaining distance between them. The movement felt automatic, the kind that had long ago become second nature between them, and she smiled instinctively when his hand found her waist. A second later he leaned down and kissed her softly, earning an immediate chorus of exaggerated complaints from somewhere behind them.

—There it is,— Max groaned dramatically from the poker table. —I was wondering how long we'd make it before this happened.

—Thirty-seven seconds,— Pietra informed him.

—That's honestly better than usual.—

—Thank you,— Lando replied without looking at either of them.

—That wasn't a compliment.—

—Still taking it.—

Amelie laughed against his shoulder before stepping back slightly, immediately turning toward Max.

—Hi, Max.—

—Hello. Welcome to whatever this is.—

He gestured vaguely toward the poker table, the chips, the cameras, and the monitor currently displaying a stream chat moving faster than any human being could reasonably read.

—Looks tragic.—

—Thank you,— Max said.

Meanwhile Charlie and Rio had escalated from greeting each other into what appeared to be a full-contact wrestling match behind the couch. Every few seconds one of them would sprint across the living room while the other chased after them, creating enough noise to suggest there were approximately twelve dogs involved instead of two.

Amelie glanced toward the garment bag resting carefully on the couch and visibly relaxed once she confirmed neither dog had attempted to destroy it.

—Dress survived,— Pietra announced.

—For now.—

—Give them ten minutes.—

The two women watched Charlie narrowly miss crashing into a side table before disappearing behind an armchair.

—Five minutes,— Amelie corrected.

Lando laughed quietly before nodding toward the poker table.

—Want to play?—

Amelie looked at him like he'd personally offended her.

—Absolutely not.—

—Why not?—

—Because I'm twenty-four, not fifty.—

The reaction earned a laugh from Pietra while Max immediately pointed at her in approval.

—See? Finally, someone with common sense.—

—Thank you,— Amelie said, already moving around the table. —Poker is something people discover after they buy a vacation house and start saying things like "let's discuss property taxes."—

—That's incredibly specific,— Pietra laughed.

—Because it's true.—

Lando rolled his eyes, reaching for her hand as she passed behind his chair.

—You don't have to play. You can watch.—

—That's somehow worse.—

—We can team up.—

By now she'd fully noticed the stream monitor and the thousands of people currently witnessing this conversation.

—Oh, great. So not only am I watching poker, I'm helping you cheat in front of the internet.—

—It's not cheating if we're in love.—

Max physically recoiled.

—I need you both to stop talking immediately.—

Amelie laughed as she slid into the empty chair beside Lando, tucking one leg beneath herself while Charlie and Rio continued chasing each other through the apartment like tiny lunatics. The second she settled down, Lando leaned over and pressed a kiss to the top of her head without even thinking about it.

Max made a sound that could only be described as exhausted disbelief, leaning back in his chair like he was personally suffering the consequences of other people’s affection.

—You’re actually unbelievable,— he said, pointing between the two of them. —There are people watching this stream trying to learn poker and instead they’re getting whatever this is.—

Amelie didn’t even look guilty. She just leaned slightly into Lando’s side like she had always belonged there, one hand idly resting on the edge of the table while she watched the chips being rearranged with zero real interest.

—They can multitask,— she replied simply.

—That’s not the point.—

—It feels like the point.—

Pietra laughed under her breath, collecting a few stray chips that had somehow ended up on her side of the table again. The stream chat, now fully derailed beyond recovery, was moving so fast it looked like static. Lando barely glanced at it anymore. He was too busy absently tracing his thumb over Amelie’s knuckles under the table, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Max noticed. Of course he did.

—Stop doing that,— he muttered.

—Doing what?— Lando asked without looking up.

—Existing like that.—

Amelie smiled into her hand, clearly entertained, and leaned her shoulder lightly against Lando’s arm. Charlie sprinted past in the background at full speed, Rio chasing him like his life depended on it, both of them nearly knocking over a floor lamp before disappearing again behind the couch.

The poker game continued in the loosest sense of the word. Chips were pushed forward, cards were half-heartedly checked, and Max occasionally declared someone was “obviously bluffing” with no evidence whatsoever. Amelie mostly observed, occasionally commenting in a tone that made it clear she was not emotionally invested in any of it.

The game had settled into that strange, chaotic rhythm where nobody was truly focused on poker anymore, yet everyone kept playing out of pure inertia, as if stopping would somehow make the situation worse. Chips were pushed forward without real strategy, cards were glanced at and immediately forgotten, and Max continued accusing people of bluffing with the confidence of someone who had long since abandoned any attachment to accuracy. The stream chat had evolved into a living organism of confusion and obsession, fixating less on the game itself and more on the dynamic unfolding around the table, particularly the way Lando seemed physically incapable of existing more than two feet away from Amelie without gravitating back like a magnet.

Amelie, meanwhile, had fully settled into the chair beside him, one leg tucked under her while her shoulder rested lightly against his arm in a way that looked effortless but felt entirely intentional. She was watching the game with mild amusement at best, occasionally commenting under her breath in a tone that suggested she was humoring everyone rather than participating in anything serious. Lando, on the other hand, had completely abandoned the idea of poker concentration. Every so often his hand would drift absentmindedly toward her knee or her fingers under the table, like physical contact was now just part of how he functioned. Max noticed this every single time without fail, each glance becoming progressively more tired and resigned, as though he was slowly losing faith in humanity one affectionate gesture at a time.

—If you two start holding hands under the table again, I’m leaving,— Max muttered without looking up from his cards.

—We are holding hands under the table,— Amelie replied casually, as if reporting weather conditions.

—Then I am emotionally leaving,— Max corrected.

Pietra laughed softly, leaning back in her chair while scrolling through the stream chat on her phone. —Chat is convinced this is not a poker stream anymore.—

—What do they think it is?— Lando asked lazily.

Pietra didn’t even hesitate. —Romantic content with occasional gambling interruptions.—

Amelie made a sound of pure disbelief. —That is insulting to poker.—

—It’s also accurate,— Pietra added.

Max sighed dramatically, leaning forward to collect his chips with exaggerated seriousness. —Can we at least pretend we’re professionals for five minutes?—

—We were never professionals,— Lando said calmly.

That earned a laugh from Amelie, who tilted her head up slightly to look at him, clearly entertained. The movement was small, almost automatic, but it immediately pulled his attention away from the table again, as if he had been physically interrupted mid-thought just by her expression. Max caught it instantly and leaned back with a groan, shaking his head like he was witnessing something deeply exhausting unfold in slow motion.

The hand ended shortly after in a way that nobody fully agreed on but everyone accepted anyway, mostly because arguing would require effort no one was willing to expend. Lando ended up collecting the chips regardless of technical accuracy, stacking them into a neat pile while Pietra leaned over to inspect the result with mild suspicion.

—Of course he wins,— Pietra said, narrowing her eyes at him.

—Skill,— Lando replied instantly.

—Luck,— Max corrected.

—Jealousy,— Amelie added without missing a beat.

That earned a brief pause in the room.

Max slowly turned his head toward her, expression flattening. —I’m sorry?—

Amelie shrugged lightly, completely unbothered. —Just feels like jealousy is involved somewhere in this ecosystem.—

Pietra snorted into her drink, immediately trying and failing to hide her laughter. Max stared at her for a long second before leaning back in his chair with a look of deep betrayal directed at the universe rather than any one person in particular.

—That is the most dangerous thing you’ve said all night,— Max muttered.

Lando, still sorting chips, barely looked up. —She’s not wrong.—

Max threw a card onto the table with unnecessary force. —Of course you agree.—

For a moment, the conversation lulled again into comfortable noise. Chips were rearranged, drinks were refilled, Charlie and Rio continued their increasingly chaotic tour of destruction around the apartment, and the stream chat continued spiraling into theories that made less sense with every passing minute. It was briefly almost normal, in a very loose definition of the word, until Pietra leaned forward slightly with the kind of expression that suggested she was about to say something she absolutely should have kept to herself.

—So, Lando Nowins— Pietra said lightly, dragging the nickname out with a teasing lilt that landed immediately like a grenade in still water.

The reaction was instant and visceral. Lando froze mid-motion, a chip suspended between his fingers, before slowly turning his head with the kind of controlled patience that suggested he was actively reconsidering every friendship he had ever maintained. Max physically exhaled through his nose like he had been waiting for this exact moment all night, while Amelie let out a small sound somewhere between a laugh and a wince, immediately realizing where this was going before anyone else fully caught up.

A thick silence settled over the table, heavy enough that even the stream chat seemed to slow for half a second before exploding again in curiosity.

Max tilted his head slightly, studying Lando’s expression with a warning kind of curiosity, like he was silently telling Pietra she had just stepped directly into dangerous territory. Pietra, however, looked entirely unbothered, clearly not remembering or not caring that the nickname she had just resurrected belonged to a version of Lando that he very much pretended no longer existed.

Lando set the chips down carefully, too carefully, the movement controlled in a way that made it obvious he was restraining something more dramatic beneath the surface. He leaned back in his chair slightly, eyes flicking briefly toward Amelie as if checking whether she was about to join in on the chaos or rescue him from it, but instead she just pressed her lips together, clearly trying not to laugh.

Max finally broke the silence with a slow, unimpressed stare toward Pietra.

—You didn’t just say that out loud—

Pietra blinked innocently. —What? It’s funny.—

—It’s not funny,— Lando said immediately, voice flat.

Max let out a slow breath, leaning back in his chair with the kind of exaggerated patience that usually came right before he made things worse on purpose.

—It was funny in 2020,— Max said carefully, glancing between Pietra and Lando like he was defusing a situation rather than commenting on a nickname. —Right now it feels like something you should’ve left buried in a group chat that nobody reads anymore.—

Pietra tilted her head, still completely unbothered, as if she had not just reopened a psychological scar with a single sentence. —I’m just saying, Amelie literally invented it. I’m not the villain here.—

That earned her a look from Amelie so immediate it could’ve stopped traffic.

—Do not drag me into this,— Amelie said quickly, raising both hands in surrender, though the smile on her face completely betrayed her attempt at innocence. —That was ancient history. I was like, what, nineteen? I didn’t understand consequences.—

Lando exhaled through his nose, staring at the table like it had personally betrayed him. The silence that followed was thick in a very specific way, the kind that only happens when everyone in the room collectively realizes someone has touched a nerve and is now deciding whether to apologize or double down.

Max slowly shifted his gaze toward Lando, clearly enjoying this more than he should have been allowed to.

—Mate,— Max started cautiously, —it’s not that deep.—

Lando didn’t look up. —It is, actually, that deep.—

Amelie leaned slightly into his side, still trying not to laugh, her shoulder brushing his arm as she spoke softer now, more careful. —I didn’t mean it in a bad way, you know that, right? It was just… a stupid nickname from when you used to miss every single shot under pressure and then act shocked about it.—

That finally got a reaction.

Lando turned his head toward her slowly, expression unreadable in that very specific way that meant he was deciding whether to be offended or entertained.

—That is not what happened.—

—It is exactly what happened,— Amelie replied immediately, far too pleased with herself.

Pietra, unfortunately, chose that exact moment to lean forward again, unable to resist poking the wound just one more time. —To be fair, Nowins did have a bit of a run for a while.—

The silence that followed was immediate and catastrophic.

Max made a low sound of warning. —Pietra.—

But it was too late.

Lando leaned back fully in his chair, arms folding across his chest, eyes fixed somewhere between offended and deeply tired. For a second, it genuinely looked like he was about to launch into a full defense of his entire career history just to correct a nickname from half a decade ago.

Then Amelie gently bumped her knee against his under the table.

It wasn’t dramatic.

It wasn’t even noticeable to anyone who wasn’t watching closely.

But it worked instantly.

Lando exhaled, the tension breaking just slightly in his shoulders as he looked at her instead of Pietra.

Amelie gave him a small, apologetic smile, softer now, like she was trying to steer the moment away from disaster without actually saying it out loud.

—You were never Nowins to me,— she said lightly, as if it was obvious.

That landed differently.

Not loud.

Not performative.

Just simple enough that it reset the entire energy in the room for a second.

Max immediately looked away like he had just witnessed something he was not supposed to comment on. Pietra suddenly found the edge of the table extremely interesting. Even the stream chat seemed to glitch for a moment, as if collectively recalibrating.

Lando stared at Amelie for a beat longer than necessary, the offended expression slowly fading into something quieter, more familiar. Then, without saying anything, he just shook his head once like he had given up on the entire argument.

—Yeah, yeah,— he muttered finally, pushing a few chips forward again. —Keep talking. Let’s see how funny you are when I actually win the next hand.—

Max immediately perked up again. —Oh no, he’s doing the competitive reset voice.—

Amelie smiled, leaning her head lightly against Lando’s shoulder now, completely unbothered by the chaos she had just helped diffuse.

—You’re going to lose again,— she said calmly.

Lando glanced down at her, one corner of his mouth twitching.

—We’ll see.—

--------------

liked by goldenhouramelie, lanmeliehub, and others

f1gossipdaily: Lando Norris spotted on Max Fewtrell’s stream tonight playing poker alongside Max and Pietra 🃏👀 casual chaos energy as always, no paddock in sight just cards, laughs and questionable poker faces

View all 1,005 comments

papayagirl: NOT “you were never Nowins to me” I JUST FELL TO MY KNEES 😭 → loveroflan: that line was PERSONAL → lanmeliehub: she just ended the argument with ONE sentence

ameliecore: pietra really said the forbidden nickname out loud like it’s nothing 😭 → goldenhouramelie: girl opened ancient lore → softamelie: she unleashed 2020 trauma for no reason

fanameliee: max immediately going “Pietra.” like a disappointed teacher 😭 → cherryvibes: he knew it was over the second she spoke

sunsetamelie: lando going SILENT after that nickname is insane 😭 → goldenhouramelie: bro got flashbacks → softclouds: bro left the group chat mentally

papayagirl: pietra calling him “nowins” on stream when she KNOWS he hates that is actually weird 😭 → loveroflan: yeah that crossed a line → lanmeliehub: some things are just not funny anymore

ameliecore: it felt a bit unnecessary ngl like why bring that up publicly 😬 → goldenhouramelie: especially in front of chat

papayadreams: am I crazy or did the whole room just reset after she spoke 😭

amelievibes: “you were never Nowins to me” IS CRAZY ACTUALLY 😭 → cherryvibes: that’s a wife statement idc → dreamygirlie: she said FIX YOURSELF GENTLY

fanpageamelie: pietra acting innocent after calling him that is sending me 😭 → goldenhouramelie: “what? it’s funny” GIRL BE SERIOUS → softamelie: she’s chaos incarnate

fanameliee: and the way she kept pushing it after max warned her… 😭 → cherryvibes: he literally said stop → dreamygirlie: ignored it completely

sunsetamelie: people saying she was flirting with lando are so weird 😭 → goldenhouramelie: that’s a stretch → softclouds: it was just awkward joking that went too far

papayadreams: idk it gave weird vibes when she leaned in laughing at him tbh 😬

lanfan44: max looking away like he just witnessed a private family argument 😭 → papayaprincess: he does NOT want involvement

softamelie: the way lando only calmed down when amelie bumped his knee 😭 → goldenhouramelie: she’s the reset button → sunsetamelie: emotional stabilizer girlfriend

ameliecentral: NOT HIM REVERTING TO COMPETITIVE MODE AFTER BEING FIXED 😭

amelievibes: y’all need to calm down it’s a STREAM not a courtroom 😭 → cherryvibes: still, respect matters → dreamygirlie: both things can be true

fanpageamelie: the nickname thing clearly hit a nerve with lando though, you could see it 😕 → goldenhouramelie: he went completely quiet

papayagirl: pietra saying “nowins did have a bit of a run” IS FOUL 😭 → loveroflan: that was unnecessary violence → lanmeliehub: she’s not surviving dinner

fanameliee: amelie just casually ending a whole 2020 nickname arc with one sentence 😭

papayadreams: the way lando looked at her after she said that… 😭 → loveroflan: yeah that’s love love → lanmeliehub: no poker table survives that energy

amelievibes: “you’re going to lose again” while cuddled into him is CRAZY 😭

lanfan44: pietra lowkey stirring the pot the whole stream and now people are defending her like what 😭 → papayaprincess: it wasn’t that serious → loveroflan: but it was unnecessary

softamelie: max literally tried to shut it down and she doubled down 😬 → goldenhouramelie: that’s what made it worse

fanpageamelie: pietra really became the villain of the stream in 0.2 seconds 😭 → cherryvibes: she didn’t even try → dreamygirlie: chaos queen behaviour

lanmeliehub: i need someone to clip the exact moment she said “not to me” IMMEDIATELY 😭 → papayaprincess: internet history → loveroflan: emotional highlight of the year

softclouds: lando pretending to be offended while secretly softening is SO obvious 😭

ameliecentral: people calling it flirting are just bored honestly 😭 → cherryvibes: exactly → dreamygirlie: it was awkward humor, not that

papayagirl: still feels like pietra overstepped with the “nowins” joke considering history 😬 → loveroflan: yeah context matters

ameliecore: max surviving this entire dynamic without leaving the stream is impressive 😭 → cherryvibes: he deserves a medal → dreamygirlie: long-suffering friend energy

fanameliee: chat turning everything into drama is also insane though 😭 → goldenhouramelie: internet gonna internet → softclouds: always

--------------

The car had been parked for several minutes before either of them moved.

It sat neatly in the designated spot directly in front of the venue, engine already off, the soft ticking of cooling metal the only sound inside the cabin. Outside, the building was glowing with warm, elegant lighting, soft gold spilling across the entrance where guests were already beginning to arrive in carefully curated waves of celebration. Laughter drifted faintly through the glass doors, mixed with the low hum of music and the occasional flash of cameras catching early arrivals on the red carpet line set up further down the street.

Lando kept both hands resting on the steering wheel for a moment longer than necessary, staring straight ahead like he was trying to mentally prepare himself for something that had nothing to do with tuxedos or weddings or even the evening itself. The knot in his chest wasn’t new anymore, but it had been sitting there more aggressively since the previous night, since the stupid nickname had been thrown across a poker table like it meant nothing. It wasn’t the words themselves that had stuck, it was everything they had quietly dragged back with them. The feeling of being younger, less certain, more replaceable in a world that now somehow treated him like he belonged beside her instead of underneath the weight of who she was.

Beside him, Amelie shifted slightly in her seat.

She had been quiet in the way she only ever got when she was finishing getting ready for something important, fully composed but observant in that effortless way of hers that made it impossible to hide anything for long. The mint-colored set she wore covered her elegantly, soft fabric structured enough to feel formal while still moving naturally with her body, and her blonde hair had been pinned up with delicate precision that left her neck and shoulders exposed in a way that looked both intentional and completely natural at the same time. She turned her head toward him slowly, watching him with calm curiosity rather than concern.

—Everything okay?— she asked softly.

The question was simple, almost routine, but it landed heavier than it should have.

Lando blinked once, forcing himself out of whatever spiral he had been sitting in, and immediately turned toward her. The expression he gave her was practiced enough to pass as normal, even if it didn’t quite reach the place where it needed to. He nodded, leaning across the console just enough to press a gentle kiss against her lips, slow and familiar in a way that was meant to ground him more than reassure her.

—Yeah,— he murmured against her mouth, lingering for half a second longer than necessary before pulling back. —Everything’s perfect.—

It wasn’t a lie in the literal sense.

It was just incomplete.

Amelie studied him for a fraction of a second longer, her eyes narrowing slightly in that way she did when she suspected there was something beneath the surface but chose not to push it in the moment. Then she smiled anyway, because she always did when he tried to reassure her, whether she believed it or not, and reached over to squeeze his hand once before unbuckling her seatbelt.

—Okay,— she said simply, trusting him in the way that always made things worse when he didn’t deserve it. —Come on then.—

Lando exhaled quietly, nodding once more as if that would settle whatever was happening inside him. He stepped out first, the sudden shift into outside noise hitting immediately as he rounded the front of the car. The air was warmer here, filled with distant music and voices and the unmistakable energy of an event already in motion. He moved quickly around to her side, opening the door with a small practiced gesture that felt automatic at this point, extending his hand without hesitation.

Amelie took it immediately, stepping out with ease, her heels touching the pavement with quiet confidence. The second she was fully upright, she leaned in without thinking and pressed another soft kiss to his lips, lighter this time, almost absentminded, like it was just part of how she moved through the world when he was near her.

—Thank you, handsome,— she whispered against his mouth, smiling as she pulled away.

The street outside the venue had already filled with controlled chaos by the time they reached the entrance.

Paparazzi lined the barriers at the end of the block in a dense, shifting wall of cameras and shouted questions, flashes already popping in uneven bursts as early arrivals stepped onto the carpet further down. The sound carried strangely in the warm night air, echoing between buildings in a way that made the whole scene feel louder than it actually was. Lando instinctively adjusted his posture as they approached, not because he needed to perform anything differently, but because his body still reacted automatically to the pressure of being perceived in moments like this.

Amelie, on the other hand, rolled her eyes the second she spotted them.

—Of course they’re already here,— she muttered under her breath, though there was no real frustration behind it, just tired familiarity.

Her hand stayed firmly in his as they walked, fingers interlaced without effort, the kind of grip that didn’t need adjusting or checking. Lando kept his other hand loosely at her back, guiding her forward through the short stretch between the car and the entrance where security had already formed a narrow corridor for guests. The moment they stepped into view, the noise from the paparazzi intensified, cameras lifting in unison like a reflex triggered by movement.

They didn’t stop.

Not fully.

Just enough for Lando to glance briefly toward the cameras while Amelie kept her gaze forward, already focused on the doors ahead. It was a shared understanding at this point between them, the kind built through years of learning when to acknowledge the noise and when to simply walk through it.

The interior of the venue swallowed them immediately.

Warm lighting, polished floors, the soft murmur of conversations layered over music that had already begun in the main hall. It was elegant in a way that didn’t feel forced, the kind of space designed for families rather than spectacle, even if spectacle inevitably followed them everywhere they went. The shift in atmosphere was immediate enough that Lando felt his shoulders drop slightly as the doors closed behind them.

Amelie softened instantly too, her expression shifting from external focus to something more personal as her eyes scanned the room.

The change was immediate and unmistakable. The second she spotted her family gathered near the far side of the room, something inside her visibly relaxed, the tension that always came from arriving at events dissolving into something warmer and infinitely more familiar. Lando followed her gaze across the venue, immediately picking out the cluster of Daymans occupying several rows of chairs near the front. Her father was already deep in conversation with one of her uncles, gesturing animatedly with one hand while trying and failing to appear composed. Victoria sat nearby looking effortlessly elegant, though her expression carried the unmistakable look of a mother trying to convince herself she wasn't emotional about her son getting married. Elysia was laughing at something beside her boyfriend, Joe Burrow, while Jack appeared halfway through stealing food from a tray carried by a passing waiter.

A smile spread across Amelie's face almost instantly.

—There they are,— she said softly.

They crossed the room together, weaving through arriving guests and extended family members who greeted Amelie the second they spotted her. The next several minutes disappeared into hugs, kisses on cheeks, introductions, congratulations, and the general chaos that accompanied any large family gathering. Someone's aunt immediately pulled Amelie into an embrace. One of her cousins loudly informed her she was late despite arriving early. Victoria squeezed her daughter's face between both hands and declared she looked beautiful before immediately asking if she had eaten anything.

Lando lingered beside her through most of it, smiling politely whenever conversations drifted his way, though his attention remained divided.

Partly on the family.

Partly on Amelie.

Partly on the increasingly uncomfortable thoughts that had refused to leave him alone for the last twelve hours.

The sight of Callum arriving cut through the noise almost immediately.

He stood near the front of the venue speaking with one of the wedding coordinators, already dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit that made him look less like a groom and more like someone preparing to negotiate a corporate merger. The all-black look was sharp, expensive, and entirely Callum.

Amelie immediately noticed it too.

The grin that appeared on her face was dangerous.

Without hesitation, she slipped away from her mother's interrogation about breakfast and headed straight toward him.

—Wow,— she announced loudly enough for several relatives nearby to hear. —All black? Are we grieving your single life already?—

Callum didn't even hesitate.

The second the words left Amelie's mouth, he lifted his hand and flipped her off with complete confidence, the gesture so immediate and automatic that it was obvious he'd spent his entire life dealing with her.

Several relatives nearby immediately burst into laughter.

Victoria, however, looked horrified.

—Callum Alexander Dayman!— she snapped from across the room.

The reaction was so instinctively maternal that it would've made sense if Callum were twelve instead of thirty-three.

Callum slowly lowered his hand and looked entirely unapologetic.

In fact, if anything, the reprimand seemed to encourage him.

—Sorry, Mum,— he replied automatically, in the exact tone of voice that indicated he was not sorry in the slightest.

Victoria pointed a finger at him from halfway across the room.

—You're thirty-three years old.—

—I know.—

—Act like it.—

—It's my wedding day.—

—That's not an excuse.—

Several nearby relatives laughed while Callum simply shook his head and accepted his fate, clearly having learned years ago that arguing with his mother was a battle nobody won. Amelie looked delighted by the entire exchange, the grin on her face widening as she stepped closer to her brother.

—For the record, I think you're absolutely mourning your single life.—

—For the record, I think you're annoying.—

—That wasn't very groom of you.—

—Neither was your joke.—

Lando arrived beside them just in time to catch the tail end of the argument, and Callum immediately pulled him into a quick hug.

—You survived her this morning?— Callum asked.

Lando let out a quiet laugh, the sound automatic enough that it almost convinced everyone around him it was genuine.

—Barely,— he replied, glancing toward Amelie.

—Liar,— Amelie said immediately.

—See? This is what I deal with.—

Callum nodded solemnly as if he'd just received confirmation of a long-standing theory.

—Yeah, good luck with that.—

The comment earned a laugh from several nearby relatives, but before Lando could think too much about the phrasing, Callum's attention shifted back toward his sister. His eyes narrowed slightly, a look that Amelie recognized instantly because it usually meant he was about to become an older brother in the most annoying way possible.

—Ready to sign?— he asked.

Amelie groaned dramatically.

Amelie groaned dramatically, immediately dropping her head back toward the ceiling as though she had just received devastating news rather than a simple question.

—I knew this was coming,— she complained. —You've been threatening me with paperwork for weeks.—

—As I should,— Callum replied without missing a beat. —You're one of the witnesses. This is literally your only responsibility today.—

—I've been practicing my signature all night.—

Callum looked entirely unimpressed.

—Good,— he said. —As you should. Your handwriting looks like a doctor trying to escape a crime scene.—

A chorus of laughter immediately erupted from several relatives nearby. Even Victoria covered her mouth to hide a smile while Amelie stared at her brother in open offense.

—That is unbelievably rude.—

—It's unbelievably accurate.—

—I have beautiful handwriting.—

—You write the way a spider falls down a staircase.—

Lando let out a laugh before he could stop himself, and unfortunately that was all the encouragement Callum needed.

—See? He agrees.—

—Traitor,— Amelie informed Lando.

—In my defense, I have received birthday cards from you.—

—You survived them.—

—Barely.—

The conversation dissolved into overlapping laughter again, the easy kind that only happened around family. For a moment it was enough to distract Lando from the noise inside his own head. Enough to let him simply exist beside her while she argued with her brother, rolled her eyes at her mother, and immediately became twelve years old again the second she was surrounded by family.

Then Callum casually adjusted the cuffs of his jacket and looked back toward Amelie.

—Don't worry. I'll return the favor when it's your wedding.—

The joke landed lightly for everyone else.

For Lando, it felt like someone had reached inside his chest and squeezed.

The laughter around them continued immediately, relatives smiling, Amelie rolling her eyes as if she'd heard a thousand variations of the same joke from Callum before. Nobody seemed to notice the way Lando's smile froze for half a second before returning to his face. Nobody except Callum, who happened to be looking directly at him when it happened.

Callum's smile didn't disappear, but it shifted slightly, becoming more curious than amused as he watched the reaction flicker across Lando's face. It lasted less than a second. Most people wouldn't have noticed it at all. A tiny hesitation. A brief widening of the eyes. The sort of expression that vanished so quickly it could easily be dismissed as imagination.

Callum, unfortunately, had spent years reading people for a living.

More importantly, he'd spent years watching Lando around his sister.

The moment passed almost immediately. Amelie was already laughing and dramatically informing everyone within hearing distance that she would absolutely not be signing any legal documents without first having her lawyer review them. Several cousins joined the conversation. Victoria threatened to revoke her witness privileges. Somewhere behind them, one of the younger children started crying because someone had stolen a cupcake.

Callum's eyes lingered on Lando for a second longer than necessary.

Not long enough for anyone else to notice.

Just enough for something to settle uncomfortably in the back of his mind.

Because it hadn't looked like panic in the normal sense. It wasn't the expression of a man horrified by the idea of marriage. Callum knew what that looked like. He'd seen enough of his friends react that way over the years.

Callum knew what excitement looked like too.

He remembered seeing it in his own reflection before he proposed to Dua. Remembered the nervous energy, the anticipation, the strange combination of terror and certainty that came with deciding you wanted to spend the rest of your life with someone. A week ago, sitting in that tailor shop while discussing marriage, Lando had looked like that. Anxious, yes. Overthinking everything, absolutely. But underneath it all there had been something hopeful there.

This wasn't that.

The expression that had crossed his face a second ago had carried something heavier.

Something sad.

Before Callum could examine the thought any further, one of the wedding coordinators appeared beside him with the determined expression of someone trying to keep an event running on schedule.

—We're ready whenever you are,— she informed him.

The shift in atmosphere was immediate.

Conversations began winding down. Family members started moving toward their seats. The gentle chaos that had filled the room moments earlier slowly organized itself into something more structured as everyone realized the ceremony was actually about to begin.

Callum nodded once.

—Right. That's me apparently getting married then.—

—Terrifying,— Amelie informed him.

—Thank you for your support.—

—Anytime.—

Callum leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top of his sister's head before stepping back. His eyes briefly landed on Lando one last time, curiosity still lingering somewhere in the back of his mind, but whatever question he had wasn't one he was going to ask now. The black suit somehow made him look even taller as he disappeared toward the front of the venue, moving with the calm confidence of someone who had already made peace with every decision that had brought him here.

Amelie watched him go for a second before turning back toward Lando.

The noise of the room had shifted now. Conversations were lowering into murmurs. Chairs scraped softly against polished floors as guests began taking their seats. Somewhere near the entrance another cluster of relatives arrived, bringing with them a fresh wave of greetings and laughter that briefly echoed through the hall before settling again.

She stepped closer and reached automatically for the front of his jacket, smoothing an invisible crease from the lapel.

The gesture was so absentmindedly affectionate that it made something ache in his chest.

—Guess this is it,— she said softly, glancing toward the front where Callum was now speaking with the officiant. —My brother is actually getting married.—

Amelie's fingers lingered briefly against his lapel after smoothing the imaginary crease, her attention already drifting toward the front of the room where staff members were quietly guiding guests into place.

The venue had settled into that strange calm that always arrived seconds before something important began, conversations lowering into murmurs, chairs filling one by one, relatives abandoning half-finished stories as they moved toward their assigned seats. Soft music drifted through hidden speakers overhead, elegant enough to fill the silence without overwhelming it, while sunlight spilled through the high windows and painted warm gold across polished floors.

Lando looked down at her and forced a small smile.

—Yeah,— he said quietly. —He actually is.—

The words sounded normal enough.

The feeling behind them didn't.

Because standing there watching Callum prepare to marry the woman he loved should have felt simple. Happy. Straightforward. Instead it seemed to be dragging every uncomfortable thought from the last week back into the light whether he wanted it to or not. The conversation in the tailor shop. The proposal discussion. The stupid nickname. The version of himself he thought he'd left behind years ago. Somehow all of it had become tangled together in a knot sitting stubbornly beneath his ribs.

Amelie smiled softly at him before leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, completely unaware of the war currently taking place inside his head.

—Don't go anywhere,— she said lightly. —I need you here when I inevitably commit signature fraud and ruin the entire marriage certificate.—

The joke earned a quiet laugh from him.

—I'll alert the authorities immediately.—

—Thank you. That's what partners are for.—

She squeezed his hand once before another coordinator appeared beside her, gently informing her that the witnesses needed to begin moving toward the signing table.

Amelie groaned dramatically.

—See? Already bossing me around.—

—Move, witness,— the coordinator replied without sympathy.

Lando watched her laugh before finally stepping away, gathering part of her outfit as she headed toward the front of the room. For a second she glanced back over her shoulder to find him again, smiling when she did.

Victoria's hand settled lightly against Lando's arm before he could disappear any further into his own head, her expression warm with the kind of effortless affection she had always shown him from the very beginning. Around them, guests continued filtering toward their seats while the atmosphere gradually shifted from lively conversation into the softer anticipation that always arrived before a ceremony.

The venue glowed beneath warm lighting, elegant floral arrangements decorating nearly every visible surface, and somewhere near the front a violinist was quietly testing a final note. To anyone looking from the outside, it was beautiful. Perfect, even. Yet Lando felt strangely detached from all of it, as though he were watching the evening happen through glass instead of actually participating in it.

—Come sit with us, sweetheart,— Victoria said, gently steering him toward the row where the rest of the family had gathered. —You look like you've been solving world hunger over there by yourself.—

A small laugh escaped him automatically, the response arriving from pure habit rather than genuine amusement. He allowed her to guide him toward the seats, nodding politely as relatives greeted him on the way.

The familiar warmth of the Dayman family surrounded him immediately, conversations overlapping into the kind of organized chaos that seemed to follow them everywhere. Someone was arguing about seating arrangements. One of Amelie's uncles was already telling a story nobody had asked for. Two cousins were debating whether Callum looked nervous despite overwhelming evidence that he clearly wasn't. The noise should have grounded him. Normally it would have. Tonight it only made him feel more aware of the thoughts he was trying and failing to ignore.

As he settled into the empty seat beside Victoria, another relative leaned forward and glanced toward the entrance. —Still no Stella?—

The question immediately earned several knowing reactions from nearby family members. Victoria let out a dramatic sigh while shaking her head, the gesture so practiced it was obvious this conversation had happened many times before.

—Of course not,— she replied. —At this point I'd be more concerned if she arrived early.—

Victoria's comment earned an immediate wave of agreement from the surrounding family members, several of whom began sharing stories about Stella's chronic inability to arrive anywhere on time. Someone mentioned a Christmas dinner she had missed entirely because she somehow ended up at the wrong restaurant. Another relative brought up a birthday party where she'd arrived forty-five minutes late carrying the wrong gift bag. The conversation drifted naturally into laughter, everyone speaking over one another while waiting for the ceremony to begin, and Lando smiled when appropriate, nodded when expected, and contributed the occasional quiet comment when someone addressed him directly.

None of it really reached him.

His gaze drifted toward the front of the room instead, where Amelie had already taken her place beside Callum. The distance wasn't far, yet it somehow felt enormous. Standing there beneath the warm lighting, surrounded by flowers and family and people who loved her, she looked so completely at home in the world that for a moment it almost hurt to look at her. She was smiling at something Callum had said, one hand resting lightly against the signing table while she listened, and the sight of it pulled something uncomfortable loose inside his chest.

The sight should have made him happy.

Maybe that was the part he hated most.

Because he was happy for Callum. Genuinely. Watching him stand there preparing to marry Dua after years together felt right in the way some things simply did. There was no doubt in it. No hesitation. No invisible voice whispering that he wasn't enough, that he would somehow ruin everything eventually. Callum looked exactly like a man who had arrived at the place he was always meant to reach. Steady. Certain. Loved. Watching it unfold only forced Lando to confront how different the inside of his own head felt. The conversation in the tailor shop replayed itself against his will. When did you know? The question had seemed so simple when he'd asked it. Now it felt embarrassingly naïve. Knowing he loved Amelie had never been the problem. He had known that for years. The problem was everything that came after.

Across the room, Amelie laughed again, her smile bright enough to draw the attention of half the people around her without even trying. Callum said something that earned an eye roll from her, and a second later she lightly bumped his shoulder with her own in retaliation. The interaction was so familiar, so effortlessly her, that it pulled another ache through Lando's chest. Because the truth was that every version of his future still had her in it. Every apartment. Every holiday. Every random Tuesday. Every race weekend. Every quiet morning. Whenever he pictured the years ahead, she was always there without exception, woven so deeply into the image that removing her felt impossible. Yet the closer his thoughts drifted toward marriage, toward rings and promises and forever, the more another voice kept appearing beside those dreams. A younger voice. A crueler one. The voice that remembered missed opportunities, bad seasons, headlines, mistakes, failures. The voice that still occasionally whispered Lando Nowins even when the rest of the world had long since stopped.

The championship should have killed that voice.

Winning should have been enough.

Yet somehow it wasn't.

Because sitting there surrounded by her family, watching them tease each other and celebrate and build entire lives together, Lando couldn't stop thinking about all the reasons Amelie deserved someone better than him. Someone steadier. Someone who didn't spend half his life on airplanes. Someone who didn't disappear for months chasing points around the world. Someone who didn't need constant reassurance that he was worth loving. The thoughts felt ridiculous even as they formed, because if Amelie were sitting beside him she would probably call him an idiot before listing fifty reasons why they weren't true. Unfortunately she wasn't sitting beside him. She was standing at the front of the room looking like she belonged in moments like this, and Lando was left alone with the version of himself that never quite learned how to believe good things could stay.

A burst of laughter pulled him briefly back to the present. Victoria was still speaking with relatives nearby while another aunt checked her watch and declared that Stella and Checo were now officially late enough to be considered a separate event. More laughter followed. Somebody joked that they should delay the ceremony just to preserve family tradition. Lando smiled automatically, the sound blending into the background while his gaze drifted back toward Amelie again. She had turned slightly now, scanning the room as if checking who had arrived, and for one brief second her eyes found his across the venue. The smile she gave him happened instantly. Effortlessly. Like there had never been any possibility she wouldn't look for him.

His chest tightened painfully.

Because she looked at him like he was already enough and somehow that was the one thing he still hadn't learned how to do himself.

--------------

liked by goldenpapaya, papayahours, and others

lanmelieupdates: Amelie Dayman and Lando Norris arriving together for Callum Dayman and Dua Lipa's wedding today

View all 843 comments

papayagirl: wait why do they both look like they're about to cry 😭 → loveroflan: okay glad it wasn't just me → lanmeliehub: definitely emotional vibes

ameliecore: to be fair it's her brother's wedding 😭 → goldenhouramelie: i'd be sobbing already

fanameliee: lando looks STRESSED 😭 → cherryvibes: maybe he's just nervous around the photographers → dreamygirlie: man has his serious face on today

sunsetamelie: not them looking like they're attending the season finale of a drama 😭 → goldenhouramelie: the lighting isn't helping either → softclouds: everyone's reading too much into one photo lmao

midnightamelie: am i the only one thinking they look a little off compared to usual? 😭 → velvetroses: i noticed it too → starrylan: could just be a bad photo though

f1teaaccount: okay don't hate me but after yesterday's stream drama this photo is making me side-eye a little 👀 → raceweekendd: HERE WE GO 😭 → moonlightvibes: one thing about this fandom... y'all will connect dots

goldenpapaya: people saying they fought over the pietra thing are actually insane 😭

papayadreams: i think they just look emotional tbh 🥹

amelievibes: am i the only one who thinks they look fine 😭 → cherryvibes: literally just walking → dreamygirlie: fandom sees one neutral expression and starts spiraling

fanpageamelie: if my brother was getting married i'd be crying before the ceremony even started 😭 → goldenhouramelie: exactly → softamelie: family weddings hit different

sunflowermelie: no because why does lando look like he hasn't slept 😭 → lovelane: probably because he's been traveling everywhere lately → dreamersclub: and it's a wedding day???

tracksidebabe: watch them post a cute photo in like two hours and make everyone look stupid 😭 → lovergirlie: as they always do

lanfan44: lando looks like he's deep in thought about something 😭

softamelie: the hand holding though 🥹🤍 → goldenhouramelie: never beating the soulmates allegations → sunsetamelie: attached at the hand as always

ameliecentral: i need people to remember candid photos exist 😭 → cherryvibes: not everyone is smiling 24/7

coastalgirlie: some of y'all have never attended a family wedding and it shows 😭 → velvetamelie: exactly

papayagirl: okay but the way he's holding her hand feels protective today 🥹 → loveroflan: i noticed that too → lanmeliehub: very sweet honestly

fanameliee: maybe they're emotional because it's Callum's wedding and not because of some conspiracy theory 😭 → goldenhouramelie: revolutionary idea

sunsetamelie: i know stella is probably already crying somewhere 😭 → cherryvibes: the entire dayman family probably is → dreamygirlie: emotional family confirmed

papayahours: twitter is already saying they argued after the stream 💀 → starrylan: twitter says the sky is green

papayadreams: watch them be laughing five minutes later and everyone here looks silly 😭 → loveroflan: guaranteed → lanmeliehub: happens every single time

amelievibes: people forget weddings are emotional events 😭

softpapaya: if they were fighting would they really arrive holding hands 😭 → dreamersclub: thank you → lovelane: common sense finally entered the chat

ameliehearts: i think amelie just looks emotional tbh 🥹 → coastallover: same → velvetroses: it's literally her brother's wedding

gridgirlypop: not people blaming pietra for THIS too 😭 → raceweekendd: she's become the fandom's sleep paralysis demon

coastallover: they have the exact expressions of people trying very hard not to cry before a ceremony 😭 → velvetroses: that's actually what i'm seeing too → midnightamelie: especially amelie's face 🥹

goldenhourlane: y'all remember when everyone thought they broke up because they weren't smiling in one airport picture 😭 → lovergirlie: and then they were on a date the next day → paddockangel: history repeats itself

sunsetdreamer: maybe they're serious because they're about to witness a wedding??? 😭 → cherrysoda: revolutionary theory

goldenpapaya: imagine being callum and seeing your sister and her boyfriend already emotional before you even walk down the aisle 😭 → cherrysoda: everyone's doomed once the vows start → lanmeliefever: tissues for the whole family please 🤍

lan4worldchamp: lando literally flew to another country for this wedding but apparently he's secretly fighting with her according to the internet 😭 → moonlightvibes: the logic never logics → raceweekendd: fandom olympics

midnightamelie: i do think it's funny how one candid photo has created 17 different theories already 😭 → velvetroses: we're bored

--------------

The night outside the venue had cooled into something softer, the kind of London air that felt quieter after hours of noise and celebration. The wedding had ended in a blur of laughter, speeches that ran too long, music that faded into late-night dancing, and goodbyes that stretched out far longer than anyone intended. Now, the city felt distant and hushed, streetlights reflecting off wet pavement as Lando guided Amelie carefully toward the car parked just outside the private exit. She was leaning heavily into him, one arm looped loosely around his neck, her steps unsteady in a way that made it obvious she had long since passed the point of pretending she was only “a little tipsy.”

Her dress caught the light with every uneven step, fabric shifting as she laughed softly at something only she seemed to find funny, her forehead brushing briefly against his jaw as he steadied her. Lando kept one arm firmly around her waist, guiding her with practiced patience toward the back door of the car while trying not to smile too much at the way she kept looking at him like he was the only stable thing left in the world. The driver had already opened the door, waiting silently as Lando helped her climb inside, carefully lowering her onto the seat before leaning in to grab the seatbelt.

The moment he reached across her, she immediately tilted her head and started pressing slow, uncoordinated kisses along his neck, smiling into his skin like it was the most natural thing in the world. Lando exhaled through his nose, half amused and half helpless, his hand pausing for a second as he tried to focus on the buckle instead of her entirely distracting affection.

—Amelie,— he murmured softly, not harsh, just gently grounding her. He finally managed to guide her back against the seat, fastening the belt properly while she let out a dramatic little sigh, still smiling at him like she hadn’t just lost every bit of coordination she had left.

Once the belt clicked into place, he leaned back slightly and gave her a look that was equal parts fond and resigned before pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. She immediately tried to follow him again, but he shook his head lightly, smiling as he gently closed the car door on her side to keep her from leaning out further. He circled the front of the vehicle, running a hand through his hair as he exhaled, the exhaustion of the night finally catching up in small, quiet waves. The driver started the engine, and within seconds they were moving through London streets, the city lights blurring past the windows as silence settled between them in the backseat.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Amelie eventually settled against the seat, her head tilted toward the window as she watched the passing lights with slow, unfocused attention, while Lando kept one hand resting near the gearshift, the other occasionally brushing his thumb against her knee out of habit. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy in the way long days often became once everything finally stopped moving. Lando’s mind drifted between exhaustion and thought, replaying fragments of the wedding, Callum’s face at the altar, Amelie laughing with her family, and the way she had clung to him earlier like she never fully wanted to let go

When they finally reached the building in central London, the car slowed to a stop along the curb. Lando turned off the engine and unfastened his seatbelt, glancing over at Amelie who was now blinking slowly at the window like she was trying to decide whether the world was supposed to be spinning that much.

—Do you want to come up?— he asked softly, already knowing the answer wasn’t going to be straightforward.

Amelie blinked slowly before turning her head toward him, clearly processing the question several seconds later than a sober person would have.

—No,— she said finally, dragging the word out slightly. —I think if I try walking right now, I'm gonna fall over and embarrass both of us.—

A smile tugged briefly at the corner of Lando's mouth despite himself.

—Fair enough.—

Amelie nodded several times as though she had just delivered a particularly brilliant solution to a complicated problem.

—Exactly. See? I'm thinking ahead.—

—Clearly.—

She pointed vaguely toward the backseat before letting her hand fall into her lap again.

—Just don't forget the cake.—

—I won't forget the cake.—

—My mum specifically said to give them some.—

—I heard her the first three times.—

Amelie seemed satisfied by that answer. Her eyes drifted half shut again while she settled deeper into the seat, looking seconds away from falling asleep.

Lando leaned across the center console and pressed a soft kiss against her lips. She smiled immediately into it, sleepy and warm and completely trusting, her fingers brushing briefly against his wrist before he pulled away.

—I'll be back in five minutes.—

—Okay,— she murmured.

—You sure you'll be alright?—

—Lan, I'm too drunk to go upstairs but not too drunk to sit in a car.—

Lando watched her for another second, making sure she was actually settled before finally reaching for the takeout container balanced carefully on the seat beside him. The faint smell of vanilla cake drifted through the cardboard box as he picked it up, Victoria's instructions still ringing in his ears from earlier. Amelie had already curled slightly toward the window again, her eyes half-closed, blonde hair falling messily across one shoulder. For a moment she looked impossibly peaceful despite the amount of champagne currently in her system. He smiled despite himself.

—Don't fall asleep completely,— he warned lightly.

—No promises,— she mumbled.

The answer made him laugh quietly before he pushed open the door and stepped out into the cool London night.

The lobby was nearly silent compared to the wedding chaos they had left behind. Soft lighting reflected across polished marble floors while a concierge looked up briefly from behind the desk before recognizing him and returning to whatever paperwork occupied the evening shift. Lando crossed toward the elevators at an unhurried pace, cake balanced against his side, exhaustion beginning to settle deeper into his shoulders now that adrenaline and celebration had finally worn off. The elevator ride felt longer than it actually was. Long enough for his thoughts to drift somewhere he didn't particularly want them to go.

The elevator climbed steadily through the building, floor numbers illuminating one after another above the doors while Lando stood alone in the mirrored cabin with Victoria's cake balanced against his side. The exhaustion settling into his bones should have been enough to quiet his thoughts, but instead it seemed to do the opposite.

The wedding kept replaying in fragments behind his eyes. Callum standing at the altar looking completely certain. Dua walking down the aisle. The look on Victoria's face when her son said his vows. Every piece of it felt strangely sharp, like his brain had decided to preserve the details against his will. By the time the elevator finally stopped, he already knew exactly where his thoughts were heading, and he hated it.

The hallway outside Max and Pietra's apartment was quiet. Most of the building had long since settled into late-night silence, the expensive carpeting muting his footsteps as he walked toward the familiar door. He adjusted his grip on the cake container, knocked twice, then waited. Somewhere behind the door came the muffled sound of movement, followed by what sounded suspiciously like Charlie barking before someone attempted and failed to shush him. A few seconds later the lock clicked.

The door swung open to reveal Max wearing sweatpants and a faded t-shirt, looking significantly more awake than any reasonable person should at this hour.

—There he is,— Max said, stepping aside immediately. —The wedding survivor.—

—Barely survived,— Lando replied, already walking inside.

Max pushed the door shut behind him, the lock clicking softly back into place while the familiar warmth of the apartment settled around them. The living room looked considerably calmer than it had the previous night. No cameras. No poker chips. No stream chat moving at the speed of light. Just a lamp glowing softly in the corner and the distant sound of a television playing somewhere low in the background.

The second Charlie spotted him, every ounce of remaining self-control disappeared.

The puppy came skidding around the corner at full speed, paws scrambling against the hardwood floor while his tail wagged so violently it looked physically impossible. Lando barely had enough time to set the cake container safely on the kitchen island before Charlie launched himself directly into his legs.

—Alright, alright,— Lando laughed, bending down immediately.

Charlie responded by attempting to climb him like a tree.

A second later Lando scooped him into his arms, earning an excited whine and approximately twelve enthusiastic licks to the face. Charlie's entire body seemed to vibrate with happiness while he twisted around trying to decide whether he wanted attention, freedom, or both simultaneously.

—Missed you too, mate,— Lando murmured, scratching behind his ears.

Max leaned against the kitchen counter watching the reunion unfold.

—He spent most of the day waiting by the door,— he said. —Every time the lift opened he thought it was you two.—

The comment earned a small smile from Lando as Charlie immediately wriggled in his arms, trying to lick his face again with the enthusiasm of someone who had personally survived a national tragedy. He adjusted his grip on the puppy and scratched beneath his collar while Charlie's tail continued beating against his forearm at dangerous speeds. The apartment felt warm after the cold London night outside, comfortable in a way that came from familiarity rather than luxury, and for a moment it was easy to focus entirely on the dog instead of everything else.

—Thanks for keeping him,— Lando said, finally looking up toward Max. —I know you two had enough going on already.—

Max shrugged lightly, grabbing two glasses from a cabinet before thinking better of it and putting one back.

—He's easy. Mostly. He only committed three crimes today, which is honestly progress.— His gaze drifted briefly toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms before settling back on Lando. —Wedding good?—

Lando nodded slowly, setting Charlie back onto the floor where the puppy immediately began orbiting around his legs again.

—Yeah. Really good, actually. Callum looked happy. Dua looked happy. Everyone cried at least once, which apparently means it was successful.— A faint smile crossed his face before fading slightly. —Amelie's downstairs. Completely gone. She drank enough champagne to personally bankrupt the venue.—

Max's expression softened slightly at that, some of the usual sarcasm fading as he pushed away from the counter. The mention of Amelie waiting downstairs seemed to reassure him more than anything else. For all the chaos of the last twenty-four hours, she was still with him. Still coming home with him. Still looking at him the way she always did. It was probably why Max didn't immediately notice the way Lando's smile had gone distant again.

—Honestly, she deserves it after dealing with her family all day,— Max said. —I've never seen so many people related to one another in my life.—

—You met them for five minutes.—

—Exactly. Terrifying.—

Lando laughed quietly, but the sound faded quickly. His eyes drifted toward the dark window overlooking the city skyline while Charlie continued weaving around his ankles. Somewhere down the hallway a floorboard creaked softly, and Max followed the sound instinctively.

The creak came again a second later, followed by the faint sound of a door opening somewhere down the hallway. Max glanced over his shoulder before looking back at Lando, already knowing what he was going to see before it happened.

—Pietra's awake,— he said quietly.

The words carried none of the usual teasing tone. Just exhaustion.

For a moment Max stayed leaning against the counter, running a hand through his hair before letting out a slow breath. The last twenty-four hours had clearly taken a toll on both of them. The stream had seemed funny enough at the time. A few jokes. A few comments. Thousands of people laughing along. Then the internet had done what the internet always did and transformed harmless moments into ammunition.

—She's been having a rough day,— Max admitted after a pause. —Didn't leave the bedroom much. Every time she opens her phone there's another hundred people telling her she's awful or obsessed or whatever they've decided this week.—

Lando's jaw tightened slightly.

The online hate had never felt real when viewed through a screen. Numbers. Usernames. Comments written by strangers who would forget about the entire situation in three days. But hearing it translated into actual consequences made it harder to dismiss. He glanced toward the hallway where the bedroom door remained partially open, a thin strip of warm light spilling across the floorboards.

—That's shit,— he said quietly.

—Yeah.— Max's expression flattened. —Especially because half of them are acting like she committed a federal crime for making a joke.—

The apartment settled into silence again after that. Charlie continued circling around Lando's feet, occasionally stopping to demand attention before resuming his patrol of the kitchen. Outside the windows, London glittered beneath the night sky, distant headlights moving through streets that felt impossibly far away from the quiet conversation happening inside.

The silence lingered for several seconds after Max spoke, stretching comfortably enough that neither of them felt the need to immediately fill it. Charlie had finally settled beside Lando's trainers, chewing enthusiastically on a toy he had apparently discovered during his stay, while the television continued murmuring quietly somewhere in the background. Max studied him for a moment from across the kitchen island, the kind of look that came from years of friendship and knowing exactly when something was wrong. Lando felt it before he even glanced up.

—You look miserable, by the way,— Max said eventually.

The comment was delivered so casually it almost sounded like an observation about the weather.

Lando let out a short laugh through his nose and looked away toward the window.

The comment hung in the air for a second before Lando looked away toward the window, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly.

Outside, London glittered beneath the darkness, headlights moving through distant streets while reflections danced across the glass. The city looked peaceful from up here. Detached. Like none of the people below were carrying around thoughts that refused to leave them alone.

—Bit dramatic,— Lando muttered eventually.

Max snorted immediately.

—I've known you for half my life. Don't do that thing where you pretend I'm blind.—

The answer arrived without hesitation, comfortable in the way only years of friendship allowed. Lando smiled faintly despite himself, but it disappeared almost as quickly as it appeared. Charlie abandoned his toy and wandered back over, pressing his head against Lando's shin in a shameless demand for attention. He automatically reached down to scratch behind the puppy's ears, grateful for the distraction.

Unfortunately, Max Fewtrell had never been especially easy to distract.

—Wedding stuff?— Max asked.

Max's question settled heavily between them.

For a moment, neither man spoke. The only sound came from Charlie's toy squeaking somewhere near the kitchen island and the faint hum of traffic far below the apartment windows. Lando kept his gaze fixed on the city outside, watching headlights move through the darkness while he searched for an answer that didn't make him sound completely ridiculous.

The problem was that every answer felt ridiculous.

—Maybe,— he admitted eventually, his voice quieter than before.

The admission sat between them longer than Lando would have liked.

Max didn't rush to fill the silence. He never did when something actually mattered. Instead, he reached for Charlie's abandoned toy and tossed it lightly across the kitchen, immediately sending the puppy scrambling after it with all the enthusiasm of someone whose biggest concern in life was a squeaky dinosaur. The distraction lasted exactly three seconds before Charlie returned again.

Lando watched him go, grateful for the brief interruption.

—Watching Callum today just...— he stopped, exhaling quietly before trying again. —I don't know. It got in my head.—

Max's expression didn't change.

—About marriage?—

—About everything.—

The answer came easier once he started.

His fingers tapped lightly against the edge of the kitchen island while his gaze drifted back toward the city lights beyond the glass. Somewhere downstairs, Amelie was asleep in the back of a car waiting for him without a second thought, trusting that he would come back exactly like he always did. The certainty of it should have comforted him. Instead, lately it seemed to magnify every insecurity he thought he'd buried years ago.

—Callum looked so sure,— Lando admitted quietly. —The whole day felt like everyone knew exactly where they were supposed to be. And then I just kept thinking about proposing and... I don't know. Every time I get close to actually imagining it, my brain starts reminding me of every stupid thing I've ever done.—

Max folded his arms.

—Such as?—

Lando laughed humorlessly.

—Take your pick.—

The answer earned an unimpressed look.

—No. Pick one.—

Lando looked down at the countertop for a second.

The memories arrived annoyingly fast. Losing seasons. Bad races. Headlines. Mistakes. Every version of himself that had ever fallen short seemed to line up eagerly the moment he gave them permission. Even now, after everything that had happened over the last few years, there was still a small, stubborn part of him that remembered being the guy who always seemed to finish second. The guy Amelie used to tease by calling Lando Nowins before the nickname eventually stopped being funny.

—What if she's supposed to end up with someone better than me?— he asked before he could stop himself.

The question sounded ridiculous the second it left his mouth.

Max stared at him.

Then stared some more.

Finally he let out a disbelieving laugh and rubbed both hands over his face.

—Christ alive.—

—See? I told you it sounded stupid.—

—No, it sounds insane.—

Lando rolled his eyes, but Max was already shaking his head.

—Mate, she's currently unconscious in a car downstairs because she drank half of London celebrating her brother's wedding and still refused to go home without you. She looks at you like you've personally invented happiness. Half her family already treats you like you're married. Charlie cries every time you leave a room. And somehow you've convinced yourself she's secretly waiting for a prince to rescue her from the horrible burden of being loved by you?—

Lando opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

Because unfortunately Max wasn't entirely wrong.

The apartment fell quiet again after that. Charlie finally returned carrying the toy in his mouth, dropping it triumphantly beside Lando's shoes before looking up expectantly. Somewhere down the hallway, a door clicked softly as Pietra moved around the bedroom, and outside the windows London continued glittering beneath the darkness, completely indifferent to the existential crisis taking place several floors above it.

Max let the silence sit for a while after that, long enough for Charlie to lose interest in both of them and wander off toward the living room. He didn't immediately jump in with another joke or try to dismiss what Lando had said. The apartment remained quiet around them, warm and familiar, the sort of silence that only existed between people who had known each other for years. Eventually Max leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms, studying him carefully.

—You know what the worst part is?— he said finally. —You still think this is about racing.—

Lando frowned slightly.

—It is about racing.—

—No, it isn't. That's just the language your brain uses because it's easier than admitting what you're actually scared of.—

The answer landed harder than Lando wanted it to. Max wasn't looking at him like someone listening to a driver complain about confidence. He was looking at him like someone watching a friend sabotage himself in real time. Outside the windows the city continued moving, distant and uncaring, while inside the apartment the conversation had somehow become far more uncomfortable than anything either of them had expected when Lando walked in carrying leftover wedding cake.

—You keep talking about championships and wins and mistakes and headlines,— Max continued. —But none of that is actually the problem. The problem is that for some reason you've convinced yourself that Amelie loves you conditionally. Like one day she's going to wake up and realize you've accidentally tricked her into dating you.—

Lando let out a quiet laugh.

It wasn't a happy sound.

Because hearing it out loud made it sound exactly as irrational as it probably was.

—I know that's not true.—

—Do you?—

The question arrived gently, but it still hit.

For a moment Lando didn't answer. His gaze drifted back toward the window again, toward the reflection staring back at him in the glass. The version of himself reflected there looked ridiculous. Twenty-six years old. World Champion. Surrounded by people who loved him. Dating the woman he'd spent years secretly wanting. And somehow still carrying around insecurities from versions of himself that barely existed anymore.

Max sighed.

—Mate, her entire family loves you. More importantly, she loves you. Not the version that wins races. Not the version on television. You.—

Lando swallowed.

The words should have helped.

Instead they made his chest tighten, because deep down he already knew all of that. The problem wasn't that he doubted Amelie. The problem was that he doubted himself.

—Then talk to her,— Max said simply.

Lando blinked.

—About what?—

Max looked genuinely offended by the question.

—About the fact you're standing in my kitchen having a crisis at midnight instead of sitting in your car with your girlfriend.—

A reluctant smile pulled briefly at the corner of Lando's mouth.

Max pointed at him immediately.

—I'm serious. Stop trying to solve this by yourself.—

His voice softened slightly then, losing some of the teasing edge.

—She can't help with something she doesn't know exists. And you're acting like telling her would somehow ruin everything when, realistically, she's probably going to call you an idiot and kiss your face for twenty minutes until you feel better.—

The image was so specific it was annoyingly believable.

Lando looked down at the countertop, shaking his head lightly. A small laugh escaped him despite everything.

—Yeah.—

—Yeah.—

Max pushed himself away from the counter and grabbed the cake container.

—Now go downstairs before she wakes up and decides you've abandoned her forever.—

Lando rolled his eyes automatically.

—She's not that dramatic.—

—She's a Dayman. They're all dramatic.—

That earned a genuine laugh this time.

The first one in hours, and as he reached for his jacket, preparing to head back downstairs, the knot in his chest hadn't disappeared completely. The doubts were still there. The fears were still there. But for the first time all day they felt slightly smaller.

Manageable.

Every time Lando remembered how close the date actually was, he felt a small flash of disbelief. It still seemed impossible that Callum and Dua had somehow reached the point where invitations had been mailed, seating charts finalized, and family members were already booking flights.

The tailor finally stepped back, narrowing his eyes critically at his own work before giving a single satisfied nod. His expression softened into something almost proud as he brushed an invisible speck of lint from Lando's sleeve and patted the fabric once.

—Perfect,— he announced.

The man gathered his measuring tape, notebook, and handful of pins before disappearing toward the back of the shop, leaving the two of them alone among the mirrors and expensive silence.

Lando stepped carefully off the stool, immediately rolling his shoulders as though reclaiming control of his own body after standing still for nearly twenty minutes. He adjusted the front of the jacket, smoothing the lapels more out of habit than necessity while Callum circled him once like an inspector evaluating a luxury car.

Callum's eyes remained fixed on Lando's reflection for a few more seconds, evaluating something only he seemed capable of seeing, before a slow nod finally appeared.

—Yeah,— he said simply. —You don't look ridiculous.—

The approval was delivered with the same sincerity he might have used while discussing a business merger, which somehow made it funnier.

A quiet laugh escaped Lando as he adjusted one of the sleeves and glanced toward the mirrors again. Outside, Los Angeles continued moving beyond the glass storefront in a blur of expensive cars and afternoon sunlight. Somewhere across the city, Amelie was probably still trapped inside a salon chair preparing for the Euphoria premiere later that evening, surrounded by stylists and makeup artists and people whose entire jobs consisted of deciding whether a strand of hair sat two millimeters too far to the left.

Lando kept his eyes on the mirror.

Not because he was particularly interested in looking at himself. Not because he cared whether the jacket sat perfectly across his shoulders or whether the cuffs landed exactly where they should.

Mostly because looking at the mirror meant he didn't have to look directly at Callum.

The realization annoyed him almost immediately.

He was twenty-six years old. He drove Formula One cars for a living. He had spoken in front of thousands of journalists, stood on podiums with millions watching, survived race starts at three hundred kilometers per hour, and yet somehow asking a simple question felt significantly more terrifying than any of those things.

The silence stretched comfortably between them for a few moments, broken only by the muted sounds drifting from deeper inside the store. Somewhere in the back, the tailor spoke quietly with another employee. A steam press hissed. Fabric rustled. Outside, Los Angeles traffic moved lazily beneath the afternoon sun.

Lando cleared his throat, the sound a little too sharp in the quiet room. He adjusted his cuffs again—a completely unnecessary movement given the tailor's perfectionism—and tried to channel the exact level of casual indifference he usually reserved for pre-race media scrums.

—So,— Lando started, his voice a bit higher than he intended before he quickly brought it down an octave. He cleared his throat again. —Two weeks. Cutting it pretty close on the final fittings, mate.—

Callum snorted, leaning his hip against the edge of a heavy mahogany table laden with fabric swatches. —Don't look at me. Talk to Dua’s schedule. If it were up to my mom, we would’ve had these locked in a vault six months ago.—

—True,— Lando muttered, offering a weak smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He stuck his hands into the trouser pockets, then immediately pulled them out again, remembering the tailor’s silent, glaring warning about ruining the lines of the suit.

He cleared his throat one more time, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Callum was watching him now, the easy, amused expression on his face slowly transitioning into one of mild curiosity.

Lando looked back at the mirror, fixing his stare on the middle button of his jacket. He needed to just say it. If he could handle Monaco in the rain, he could handle a conversation with his girlfriend’s older brother.

—Hey, so...— Lando started, aiming for an casual, effortless tone that missed the mark by a mile. He shrugged one shoulder, pretending to inspect the silk lining of his lapel. —Random question. But, like... how did you know?—

Callum blinked, his eyebrows pulling together. —How did I know what? That midnight blue would look terrible on you? Because I told you, the charcoal—

—No, not the suits,— Lando interrupted, his voice dropping an octave as he glanced toward the back of the shop to ensure the old tailor wasn't returning yet. He took a breath and forced himself to look Callum in the eye through the glass. —With Dua. How did you know it was... the time? To propose. To do the whole thing.—

Callum didn’t answer right away. He didn't laugh either, which Lando counted as an immediate, massive victory. Instead, the older brother let out a slow, quiet breath and shifted his weight, his eyes dropping to the polished floorboards for a second before tracking back up to meet Lando’s reflection.

The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable, but it carried weight. The kind of weight that made Lando suddenly hyper-aware of the expensive fabric draped over his frame and the ticking of a grandfather clock somewhere deep in the boutique.

—Ah,— Callum said softly. A small, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, though his eyes stayed entirely serious. —The big question.—

—Just curious,— Lando lied smoothly, though his heart was currently performing a decent impression of a revving V6 engine. He tried to lean casually against the edge of the fitting platform, realized it made him look like he was losing his balance, and quickly stood straight again. —Just wondering how the logistics of your brain worked back then. For science.—

—For science,— Callum repeated, nodding slowly. He crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze assessing. —Right. Well, if you’re looking for some grand, cinematic epiphany where lightning struck and a choir started singing, you’re asking the wrong guy. It wasn't like that at all.—

Lando frowned slightly, turning around on the platform so he was facing Callum directly now, abandoning the safety of the mirror. —Then what was it? Because everyone always says 'when you know, you know,' which is quite literally the least helpful phrase in the human language.—

—It is a rubbish phrase,— Callum agreed with a chuckle. He leaned back against the mahogany table, looking out the front window where a sleek black SUV was idling by the curb. —For me, it wasn't a sudden realization. It was more like... a quiet accumulation of things. Dua and I were coming out of a crazy busy patch, she was finishing a tour, I was traveling for work, and we finally had three days of absolute nothing. No events, no press, no phones. We were just sitting on the floor of our kitchen at two in the morning, eating leftover Thai food out of plastic containers and arguing over whether a movie we’d just watched actually made sense.—

He looked back at Lando, his expression incredibly grounded.

—And I just looked at her. Her hair was a mess, she was wearing my old hoodie, and I realized that out of all the places I’d been and all the things I wanted to achieve, sitting on that floor with her was the absolute peak. I realized that my future didn't make any sense if she wasn't the default setting in it. Planning a life without her felt like trying to build a house without a foundation. So, I went and bought the ring the next Tuesday.—

Callum's expression softened almost immediately, not with amusement, but with the kind of understanding that came from recognizing a conversation long before the other person admitted they were having it. The afternoon sunlight spilling through the front windows painted warm gold across the polished floorboards, catching the edges of the mirrors and throwing fractured reflections around the room.

The entire shop suddenly felt strangely insulated from the rest of Los Angeles, as if the city had been paused outside while the conversation settled between them. Callum studied Lando for several seconds without speaking, taking in the nervous shifting, the overcompensated casualness, the way his fingers kept finding excuses to straighten parts of a suit that had already been adjusted by professionals. It was the exact same look Callum remembered seeing on his own face years ago whenever someone got too close to a thought he wasn't ready to say out loud.

A quiet laugh escaped him, though there wasn't anything mocking about it. If anything, there was something almost fond in it.

—You know what's funny?— Callum said, tilting his head slightly. —Everyone thinks the proposal is the scary part. Buying the ring. Getting permission. Planning the whole thing. But none of that was actually difficult. Not compared to deciding whether I was ready for what came after. Because a proposal isn't really asking someone to marry you. It's asking them to build an entire future with you. Those are very different things.—

Lando remained silent, his eyes fixed somewhere near Callum's shoulder. The words settled heavily in the space between them.

Callum pushed himself away from the table and wandered toward one of the windows overlooking the street. A woman walked past carrying shopping bags nearly as large as herself while a black Mercedes crawled through afternoon traffic outside. The world continued moving normally, oblivious to the fact that somewhere inside a tailor shop an F1 driver was very clearly having an existential crisis.

—When I first started dating Dua, I thought long-term meant six months,— Callum admitted with a faint shake of his head. —Then a year. Then two. Every milestone felt massive because I'd never been there before. The first holiday together felt serious. Moving in together felt serious. Meeting each other's families felt serious. Then suddenly one day you're talking about where you might live in five years, and somehow that conversation doesn't feel hypothetical anymore.—

His gaze drifted toward the floor for a moment before returning to Lando.

—The weird thing is that nobody tells you marriage isn't one big decision. It's thousands of tiny ones that happen first. You decide to include them in your plans. You decide to call them first when something good happens. You decide they're who you want beside you when everything goes wrong. You make all those choices long before you ever get down on one knee. The proposal just catches up with a decision you've already been making every day.—

The words hit harder than Lando wanted them to.

Not visibly. Not dramatically. The motion was small enough that most people would have missed it entirely. Callum didn't.

The words lodged somewhere deep in his chest, uncomfortable in the way truths often were when someone else said them first. His gaze drifted toward the front windows again, toward the moving blur of Los Angeles beyond the glass, but he wasn't really seeing any of it. His mind had already betrayed him, pulling together memories with frustrating ease.

Amelie asleep beside him on flights neither of them remembered boarding. Amelie stealing fries off his plate despite ordering her own food. Amelie calling him at three in the morning because she'd had a nightmare and refusing to admit that was why she'd called. Amelie crying in hotel rooms when the internet decided to be cruel. Amelie laughing so hard she couldn't breathe. Amelie standing in his kitchen in Monaco wearing one of his hoodies and feeding Benny treats she swore the cat hadn't already had ten minutes earlier.

The memory surfaced so quickly it was almost irritating.

Not because Callum's words were particularly profound, but because every example seemed to slot neatly into places Lando had spent years pretending not to examine too closely. There had never been one singular moment with Amelie. No lightning strike. No dramatic revelation. No movie-worthy scene where the universe suddenly announced that this was the person he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with.

Instead there had been thousands of tiny moments spread across years, so ordinary individually that they never seemed important at the time, yet somehow impossible to separate now. The accumulation of them felt overwhelming when viewed all at once. Every airport pickup. Every late-night phone call. Every stupid argument that ended in laughter. Every race weekend where he searched for her in a crowd without consciously meaning to. Every version of his life somehow had her standing somewhere in the background of it.

Callum watched him quietly.

Years of being Amelie's older brother had made him exceptionally good at reading people who thought they were hiding something.

Lando was not hiding anything.

At least not successfully.

The younger man hadn't spoken in nearly a minute, yet somehow his silence was louder than anything he could have said. Callum recognized the expression immediately. It was the look of someone who had asked a question expecting an answer and instead found themselves staring directly at something they hadn't intended to examine quite so closely.

A faint smile pulled at the corner of Callum's mouth.

Not teasing.

Not judgmental.

Just understanding.

—You know,— he said eventually, breaking the silence before Lando could disappear entirely into his own head, —I spent months convincing myself I wasn't ready.—

Lando blinked, dragging himself back into the room.

Callum wandered back toward the mahogany table, absently running his fingertips across a stack of fabric books as he spoke.

—Not because I doubted Dua. That was never the issue. I knew exactly how I felt about her. The problem was me. I kept thinking there would be some magical point where I'd suddenly feel like a proper adult. Like I'd wake up one morning and become the kind of person who had everything figured out. Mortgage. Marriage. Kids. Future. All of it. I kept waiting for that version of myself to show up before I proposed.—

A dry laugh escaped him.

—Turns out that person doesn't exist.—

The admission earned the smallest smile from Lando.

Callum noticed.

—Seriously. Everybody acts like there's a finish line. Like one day you're officially qualified to make decisions that big. There isn't. You're still the same idiot you've always been. You just eventually realize that being scared doesn't actually mean you're making the wrong choice.—

The grandfather clock somewhere deeper in the boutique ticked softly through the silence that followed.

Outside, afternoon sunlight reflected off passing cars, sending flashes of gold across the glass storefront. The city continued moving around them, completely unaware that one conversation was quietly altering the course of another man's thoughts.

Lando dropped his gaze toward the polished floorboards.

—Were you scared?—

Callum laughed immediately.

—Terrified.—

The answer came so fast that Lando looked up.

—Really?

—Mate, I had the ring for nearly three weeks before I actually proposed. Three weeks. It was hidden in my office. Every day I'd wake up thinking today's the day, and every day I'd find a reason to wait until tomorrow.—

His grin widened at the memory.

—At one point I convinced myself the weather was wrong.—

Lando let out a surprised laugh.

—You're joking.—

—Wish I was. It was eighty degrees and sunny. Perfect weather. Somehow I still managed to decide it wasn't ideal.—

The laughter faded gradually, leaving something more thoughtful behind.

Callum folded his arms loosely across his chest.

—The fear wasn't about whether she'd say yes. I already knew the answer to that. The fear came from understanding how much it mattered. Because once you ask that question, you're admitting something out loud that you've probably known for a while. You're admitting that this person isn't temporary anymore.—

Lando swallowed.

His throat suddenly felt dry.

The words landed harder than he wanted them to.

Temporary.

There had never been anything temporary about Amelie.

Not really.

Not even back when they were insisting they were just friends.

Not during the years of late-night gaming sessions and video calls that stretched until sunrise. Not during the situationship they both pretended wasn't becoming something bigger. Not during the months they spent dancing around feelings everyone else seemed capable of recognizing except them. Not during the breakup that nearly tore them apart. Not during the endless cycle of finding their way back to each other over and over again despite every logistical reason it should have been impossible.

Temporary people didn't leave fingerprints on every part of your life.

Amelie had.

Without even trying.

His apartment in Monaco carried traces of her everywhere. His routines carried traces of her. His habits carried traces of her. Half the stories he told started with her name. Half the decisions he made involved considering where she was, what she was doing, whether she was okay.

The realization felt absurdly obvious.

Callum watched the entire thought process unfold behind his eyes.

Again, he said nothing.

No mention of Amelie.

No mention of proposals.

No mention of rings.

The temptation was certainly there.

Instead, he leaned back against the table and let Lando arrive wherever he was headed on his own.

—Can I ask you something?— Callum said.

Lando nodded cautiously.

—Sure.—

Callum studied him for a second.

—When something good happens, who's the first person you want to tell?—

The answer arrived before Lando could stop it.

—Amelie.—

No hesitation. No thinking. No debate.

Just Amelie.

Callum's smile widened slightly.

—When something terrible happens?—

Lando already knew.

—Still Amelie.—

—When you're exhausted?—

—Amelie.—

—When you're happy?—

—Amelie.—

—When you're scared?—

Lando exhaled.

A slow breath.

A defeated one.

—Amelie.—

Callum nodded once.

Not smug.

Not triumphant.

Simply acknowledging the answer that had already been sitting in front of them the entire time.

The room fell quiet again.

Somewhere near the back of the boutique, a steam press hissed softly.

The smell of fresh espresso drifted faintly through the front entrance every time someone stepped into the café next door.

Lando stared at the floor for several seconds before shaking his head and letting out a quiet laugh.

—You're annoying.—

Callum grinned.

—I've been told.—

—I asked for advice.—

—I gave advice.—

—You interrogated me.—

—Semantics.—

Another laugh escaped him despite himself.

The tension that had been sitting in his shoulders for the last twenty minutes eased slightly.

Not completely.

Just enough.

Callum's expression softened.

—Look, for what it's worth, I don't think there's a perfect moment.—

Lando looked up.

—No?—

—No. Life doesn't really work like that. There will always be another race. Another project. Another city. Another reason to wait. If you're looking for circumstances to become perfect before making a decision, you'll be waiting forever.—

His gaze drifted briefly toward the window before returning.

—The only thing that mattered for me was knowing that if I reached the end of my life and somebody offered me the chance to do everything over again, I'd still choose her.—

The words settled between them.

Heavy.

Simple.

Impossible to ignore.

For the first time since the conversation started, Lando didn't immediately look away.

Because the truth was he already knew his answer.

Had probably known it for years.

Across town, Amelie was sitting in a salon chair preparing for a red carpet premiere, completely unaware that her boyfriend was currently standing inside a tailor shop having a quiet existential crisis over a future that, no matter how many different ways he imagined it, somehow always ended in the same place.

Always with her.

--------------

liked by sunsetamelie, ameliecore, and others

hollywoodfix: Amelie Dayman spotted arriving at a hair salon in Los Angeles just hours before tonight's Euphoria premiere.

View all 1,005 comments

papayagirl: IF SHE COMES OUT BRUNETTE I'M NOT SURVIVING 😭 → loveroflan: maddy perez WE ARE READY → lanmeliehub: brunette amelie supremacy

ameliecore: everybody stay calm STAY CALM 😭 → goldenhouramelie: TOO LATE → softamelie: I'M PANICKING

fanameliee: imagine lando waking up and suddenly his girlfriend is brunette again 😭 → cherryvibes: jump scare → dreamygirlie: he'd still be obsessed let's be real

sunsetamelie: brunette amelie hits different i'm sorry 😭 → goldenhouramelie: maddy aura activated

papayadreams: what if she's just getting a trim and we're all embarrassing ourselves 😭

amelievibes: EUPHORIA PREMIERE DAY WE USED TO PRAY FOR TIMES LIKE THIS 😭 → cherryvibes: WE ARE SO BACK → dreamygirlie: finallyyyy

fanpageamelie: maddy perez walking a red carpet again... society is healing 😭 → goldenhouramelie: genuinely emotional → softamelie: iconic character fr

lanfan44: if she walks out with dark hair twitter is going DOWN 😭 → papayaprincess: servers won't survive

softamelie: blonde popstar amelie and brunette actress amelie feel like two different people 😭 → goldenhouramelie: hannah montana effect → sunsetamelie: literally

ameliecentral: no because brunette amelie in couture tonight would EAT 😭 → cherryvibes: award season level slay → dreamygirlie: already seated

papayagirl: the fact we know she's attending the premiere makes this so much worse 😭 → loveroflan: suspense is killing me

fanameliee: somewhere zendaya is probably laughing at all of us 😭 → goldenhouramelie: they know exactly what they're doing → softamelie: publicity genius honestly

sunsetamelie: imagine if she posts nothing and just appears on the carpet brunette 😭 → cherryvibes: maximum chaos strategy

amelieupdates: i need brunette maddy, dramatic makeup and a revenge dress immediately 😭 → papayaprincess: asking for very little actually → loveroflan: bare minimum requirements

coastallover: not me refreshing every paparazzi account like my life depends on it 😭 → velvetroses: same unfortunately

tracksidebabe: the salon appointment being on premiere day is TOO suspicious 😭 → lovergirlie: exactly what i'm saying → paddockangel: connect the dots people

ameliezone: imagine if she walks out blonde and we're all clowns 😭 → coastallover: wouldn't be the first time

papayaprincesss: brunette maddy with old hollywood glam would feed families 😭

velvetamelie: not the salon worker holding the fate of the fandom in their hands 😭 → starrylan: most important job today → moonlightvibes: no pressure queen

gridgirlypop: i'm crying because half the comments are about euphoria and half are about lando's reaction 😭 → raceweekendd: two very important topics

softpapaya: she could literally just be getting her roots done 😭 → dreamersclub: let me have hope → lovelane: don't bring realism here

ameliehearts: brunette amelie wearing dior at the premiere... i'm seeing the vision 😭 → cherrysoda: cinematic

lan4worldchamp: somewhere lando is completely unaware of the hair color discourse 😭

f1fairytale: this feels exactly like when everyone tracked her flight before coachella 😭 → moonlightvibes: detective fandom returns → raceweekendd: we learned nothing

goldenhourlane: all i'm saying is maddy perez would absolutely come back brunette 😭

sunsetdreamer: watch her post a selfie from the salon chair with no explanation and disappear 😭 → lanmeliefever: chaos agent behavior → cherrysoda: exactly something she'd do 😭

--------------

The mansion had been in a constant state of controlled chaos for most of the afternoon.

Hair stylists had been arriving and leaving for hours. Makeup artists had occupied entire sections of the upstairs floor. Garment bags had appeared from seemingly nowhere. Assistants moved through the house carrying shoes, jewelry cases, and emergency beauty products with the urgency of people preparing for a royal coronation rather than a television premiere.

Lando had been banned from the second floor approximately three hours earlier.

Not officially.

Amelie had simply pointed at him, pointed downstairs, and informed him that if he tried to sneak a look before she was ready, she would personally make sure he suffered.

Since he knew she was entirely capable of following through on that threat, he'd listened.

Mostly.

Now he was stretched across one of the enormous cream-colored couches in the living room, dressed in black trousers and a fitted black shirt with the top button undone, lazily scrolling through Instagram while Benny occupied most of his chest like a particularly judgmental weighted blanket.

The cat was purring loud enough to vibrate through his ribs.

—You're getting fat,— Lando informed him absentmindedly without looking up from his phone.

A deeply offended look crossed Benny's face.

The cat lifted his head from Lando's chest immediately, green eyes narrowing with visible judgment before he settled his weight even more aggressively across Lando's torso, as if proving a point.

—Right. Sorry,— Lando muttered, scratching beneath his chin. —Big boned.—

Benny rewarded him by beginning to purr louder.

The living room sat bathed in warm late-afternoon sunlight, long golden shadows stretching across the marble floors and expensive furniture. For the first time all day, the house had gone relatively quiet. The constant parade of stylists, assistants, garment bags, and beauty products seemed confined upstairs, leaving the first floor surprisingly peaceful.

Lando continued scrolling absentmindedly through Instagram, though he hadn't actually processed a single post in the last ten minutes.

The post directly above the one he was staring at could have been a photo of an alien invasion and Lando genuinely would not have noticed.

His thumb continued moving automatically across the screen while his attention remained fixed somewhere between the second floor and the growing anticipation that had been building inside him for the last three hours. Every now and then he caught distant movement from upstairs, muffled voices drifting through the open spaces of the mansion, the occasional burst of laughter from what sounded like half of Hollywood's beauty industry occupying Amelie's bedroom. The waiting had become increasingly unbearable, especially because she had spent the entire day acting suspiciously pleased with herself every time he asked a question and received absolutely nothing in return.

Benny, sensing that his human had once again become useless, stretched dramatically across Lando's chest and let out a loud yawn that revealed every single one of his teeth. The cat then settled back down, apparently deciding that if Lando insisted on serving as furniture, he might as well do it properly. Sunlight filtered through the enormous windows overlooking the backyard, bathing the living room in warm gold while the distant sounds of Los Angeles drifted faintly through the glass.

The peaceful silence lasted exactly another thirty seconds.

A door opened somewhere upstairs.

Then another.

Then several voices drifted down through the open staircase, overlapping into an indistinct blur of conversation, laughter, instructions, and the unmistakable sound of multiple people finally packing up after occupying an entire floor of the house for most of the day. Lando's thumb immediately stopped moving across his phone screen. Benny, sensing the sudden shift in attention, lifted his head from Lando's chest and looked toward the staircase as well. The cat clearly understood that something important was happening because even he seemed mildly interested. Lando sat up slightly, his attention fixed completely on the second-floor landing while his pulse began picking up speed for reasons he absolutely refused to acknowledge.

The first person to appear at the top of the staircase was Carla, already carrying two phones and somehow still managing to hold a conversation with Meredith at the same time. The pair descended together while discussing arrival times, photographers, interview schedules, and at least six other things that sounded important enough to justify the increasingly exhausted expression on Carla's face. Charlie came trotting happily behind them, his golden tail wagging so aggressively that his entire back half moved with it, clearly delighted by the sudden increase in activity after spending most of the afternoon being repeatedly removed from whichever room the glam team happened to be working in. Lando barely registered any of them. The moment Amelie stepped into view behind them, every other detail in the room ceased to exist.

For a second, he genuinely forgot how to breathe.

The brunette hair was the first thing he noticed.

Not because it was dramatic.

Not because it was shocking.

Because it suited her so ridiculously well that his brain immediately short-circuited trying to process it. The dark hair framed her face beautifully, falling in soft waves around her shoulders and creating such a stark contrast against her skin that it almost felt unfair. Combined with the black-and-white striped dress that hugged her figure perfectly before flowing elegantly down her body, she looked less like someone attending a premiere and more like someone who belonged on every billboard in Los Angeles. The dress itself was stunning, sophisticated enough for the event while still feeling entirely like her, but Lando barely noticed the details because his attention kept returning to the hair. Three hours. He had been banished downstairs for three hours, and somehow the wait had been worth it.

A smile spread across his face before he could stop it, immediate and completely uncontrollable.

Amelie saw it happen.

The second her eyes landed on him standing from the couch, she smiled too.

Not the practiced smile she used for cameras.

Not the polished celebrity smile she gave photographers.

The real one.

The one that always seemed reserved for him.

His heart sped up embarrassingly fast.

Without thinking, he crossed the room toward her while Benny jumped off the couch with an annoyed flick of his tail and Charlie immediately abandoned Meredith to trot excitedly after Lando instead. Amelie barely had time to step fully into the living room before he reached her, taking her hand without hesitation and gently guiding her into a slow spin in the middle of the room. The movement pulled a laugh from her almost immediately as the skirt of her dress shifted around her legs and Charlie enthusiastically circled both of them, apparently convinced this was some kind of game.

—Wow,— Lando said the second she finished turning back toward him, his eyes moving over her again as though he needed to verify she was actually real. —Jesus Christ, you look hot.—

Amelie's smile widened immediately, a faint flush appearing beneath the flawless makeup as she watched the completely unfiltered reaction spread across his face. She had spent most of the afternoon pretending she wasn't curious about what he would think, repeatedly refusing to let him upstairs whenever he tried to negotiate his way past the glam team, but seeing him stare at her now as though she'd personally rearranged the stars made every second of secrecy worth it. Around them, Carla and Meredith exchanged the kind of knowing look that only came from witnessing this exact dynamic hundreds of times before, while Charlie continued weaving excitedly between their legs, entirely unaware that his parents were currently having a moment in the middle of the living room.

Lando's eyes remained fixed on her face, or more specifically, her hair. He looked genuinely distracted by it. His hand was still wrapped around hers while the other settled instinctively against her waist, pulling her a fraction closer as though proximity might somehow help him process what he was seeing. The dark waves fell over her shoulders perfectly, creating a version of Amelie that felt both completely different and entirely familiar at the same time. For years he had seen photographs of her brunette during earlier projects, had watched old interviews, old premieres, old red carpets, but seeing it in person was apparently a very different experience because his brain seemed to have stopped functioning altogether.

—Brunette?— he finally asked, sounding almost offended that she had somehow managed to keep this from him all day.

Amelie immediately rolled her eyes.

—There it is.—

—No, seriously. Brunette?—

—You're acting like I've committed a crime.—

—You can't just appear downstairs looking like that and expect me to react normally.—

A laugh escaped her before she could stop it, especially when his arm tightened slightly around her waist and he leaned forward, pressing a brief kiss against the side of her neck beneath her hairline. The gesture wasn't particularly subtle, earning an immediate groan from Carla somewhere behind them, but Amelie only laughed harder as she rested one hand against his chest to keep him from getting any ideas.

—Don't get too excited,— she warned. —It's a wig.—

Amelie laughed, shaking her head as she watched the visible disappointment flash across his face. The reaction was so immediate and dramatic that it only made her laugh harder. One of her hands settled against his chest while the other reached up to adjust a strand of dark hair that had fallen across her shoulder, the movement drawing Lando's attention straight back to the wig as though he physically couldn't stop looking at it.

Around them, the living room remained busy with people gathering bags, checking schedules, and preparing to leave, yet Lando seemed entirely incapable of focusing on anything except the fact that the woman standing in front of him currently looked exactly like the version of her that had first stolen his heart years ago. Back then she had been brunette, endlessly sarcastic, impossible to impress, and completely unaware of how thoroughly she had ruined him within a matter of months. Seeing that same dark hair now felt oddly nostalgic, like someone had reached into his memories and pulled out an older version of Amelie before placing her directly in front of him.

—A wig?— he repeated, sounding personally betrayed by the information. —You're telling me I've spent the last five minutes having a life-changing experience for absolutely nothing?

—For absolutely nothing,— Amelie confirmed with a grin. —My hair is finally healthy again. Do you know how much suffering it took to get it here? There is no universe where I'm dyeing it dark again. Not for a role. Not for a premiere. Not for you.—

—What if I ask really nicely?—

—Still no.—

—What if I beg?—

—Definitely no.—

—What if...—

—Lando.—

The warning in her voice only made him smile wider. His hands settled more comfortably around her waist as he looked down at her, completely unapologetic about how obviously distracted he was. The brunette wig wasn't the only reason she looked incredible, but it certainly wasn't helping his ability to form coherent thoughts. The black-and-white striped dress fit her beautifully, elegant and sophisticated while still somehow feeling entirely like her, and combined with the dark hair and flawless makeup, she looked like she'd stepped out of an old Hollywood photograph. It was unfair, honestly. He'd already spent years struggling to maintain basic composure around her. The brunette hair was simply making an already difficult situation significantly worse.

—I'm just saying,— he continued, refusing to let the argument go, —brunette Amelie is dangerous.—

—Blonde Amelie is standing right here listening to you insult her.—

—I would never insult blonde Amelie.—

—Good answer.—

—Blonde Amelie is gorgeous.—

—Better.—

—Brunette Amelie is also gorgeous.—

Amelie groaned dramatically.

—You're impossible.—

—I'm honest.—

Carla, who had been attempting to organize departure times while simultaneously answering messages, finally lowered her phone long enough to stare at them.

—You two realize we're supposed to be leaving soon?—

—We are leaving soon,— Lando answered without taking his eyes off Amelie.

—Then why are you looking at her like you've been stranded in the desert for six months?—

—Because look at her.—

Meredith immediately covered her face.

—God help us.—

Amelie's cheeks warmed despite herself, which only seemed to encourage him further. Years together had done absolutely nothing to lessen his ability to make her blush at the worst possible moments. If anything, it had gotten worse. Lando seemed to treat embarrassing her like a professional sport, and unfortunately he was exceptionally talented at it. Charlie chose that exact moment to squeeze himself between them, tail wagging furiously while demanding attention, forcing both of them to laugh as the golden retriever nearly knocked into Amelie's legs.

The brief interruption finally gave Lando enough self-control to step back long enough to retrieve the charcoal suit jacket he'd left draped over a nearby chair. He slipped one arm into the sleeve while continuing to glance toward Amelie every few seconds, the same ridiculous smile still firmly planted on his face. She noticed every single look. So did Carla. So did Meredith. So did anyone unfortunate enough to be standing within twenty feet of him. There was simply no hiding it. The man looked completely smitten, and years of trying to pretend otherwise had long since become pointless.

Amelie adjusted the small clutch in her hands while watching him finish putting on his jacket, amusement dancing in her eyes. —You know people are going to talk about the wig all night.—

—Good.—

—Good?—

—Maybe they'll keep talking about the wig and stop talking about how unfairly attractive you are.—

She rolled her eyes immediately.

—That's not how that works.—

—Worth a try.—

—You're ridiculous.—

—You're beautiful.—

The response came so automatically that it caught even him by surprise. For a brief second the teasing disappeared, replaced by something softer, more sincere, the kind of honesty that always seemed to slip through whenever he looked at her for too long. Amelie's expression softened almost immediately in response, her smile becoming smaller but infinitely warmer. Moments like that still happened between them, unexpected and effortless, little reminders hidden beneath years of jokes and flirting and shared history.

The spell lasted approximately three seconds before Lando's gaze drifted back toward the dress.

A dangerous look appeared on his face.

Amelie recognized it immediately.

—No.—

—What?—

—Whatever you're thinking.—

—I haven't said anything.—

—Yet.—

—I was simply making an observation.—

—Lando.—

He finished buttoning his jacket, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

—I'm just saying, I hope this premiere is quick.—

Carla immediately sighed.

—Here we go.—

—What does that mean?— Amelie asked, already suspicious.

—Nothing.—

—Lando.—

—I just think it would be lovely if everyone enjoyed the show, took their pictures, did their interviews, and then let us come home.—

Amelie narrowed her eyes.

—Why?—

His grin widened.

Dangerously.

—Because I'd really like to get my girlfriend back before midnight.—

Meredith physically turned away.

Carla looked ready to throw something at him.

Amelie pressed her lips together to stop herself from laughing.

—Behave.—

—I am behaving.—

—Barely.—

—I've been behaving all day.—

—You've spent twenty minutes staring at my wig.—

—Because your wig is hot.—

A laugh escaped her despite every effort to remain annoyed. The sound immediately brightened his expression even further, which only proved he had achieved exactly what he wanted.

Outside, the waiting cars were already visible through the front windows, evening sunlight beginning to settle across Los Angeles as photographers and reporters gathered for the premiere. Inside the mansion, however, Lando found himself wishing for another ten minutes before they had to leave. Not because he cared about being late, but because every time he looked at Amelie standing there in the striped dress and brunette hair, laughing at him with that familiar smile, he felt the exact same thing he'd felt years ago when he first met her.

The details had changed.

The careers had changed.

The houses, the countries, the lives they lived had changed.

Yet somehow, every version of her still managed to completely wreck him, and judging by the amused look on Amelie's face as she reached for his hand and intertwined their fingers, she knew it too.

--------------

liked by goldenhourlane, lovergirlie, and others

amelieupdates: from season 1 in 2019 to season 3 in 2026 🤎✨ seven years, three premieres, three brunette looks, one iconic character. thank you maddy perez. what a beautiful chapter to close.

View all 491 comments

papayagirl: the fact that she wore a wig just to have brunette hair for the final premiere 😭 → loveroflan: that's CINEMA → lanmeliehub: the commitment is insane

ameliecore: "i wanted to end it the same way i started it" I'M UNWELL 😭 → goldenhouramelie: that interview destroyed me

fanameliee: she really said one last brunette maddy moment 🥹 → cherryvibes: and she looked stunning → dreamygirlie: full circle moment

sunsetamelie: not us spending hours debating if she dyed her hair 😭

papayadreams: seven years later and she still honored maddy like this 😭 → loveroflan: that's her baby fr → lanmeliehub: you can tell how much the character means to her

amelievibes: the brunette wig with the premiere dress was EVERYTHING 😭 → cherryvibes: she understood the assignment

fanpageamelie: imagine being 17 filming season 1 and now closing it at 24 😭 → goldenhouramelie: stopppp → softamelie: time is actually terrifying

lanfan44: the fact she thought about the symbolism of the hair color 😭 → papayaprincess: actress brain

softamelie: blonde amelie is current amelie but brunette will always feel like maddy 😭 → goldenhouramelie: exactly → sunsetamelie: they're separate people in my brain

ameliecentral: that interview where she explained it made me emotional immediately 😭

papayagirl: "one last time for her" SHE KNEW WHAT SHE WAS DOING 😭 → loveroflan: straight to jail honestly → lanmeliehub: emotional manipulation

fanameliee: the side by side of all three premieres is actually beautiful 🥹

sunsetamelie: maddy perez ending with brunette hair feels correct somehow 😭 → cherryvibes: that's exactly it → dreamygirlie: poetic honestly

amelieupdates: she really closed a seven year chapter with a wig and somehow made me cry 😭 → papayaprincess: actress behavior → loveroflan: queen of symbolism

coastallover: no because the wig looked SO real too 😭

goldenpapaya: the way she smiled talking about maddy in interviews 🥹 → cherrysoda: you could tell she was emotional → lanmeliefever: proud mama energy

sunflowermelie: everyone say thank you to the wig stylist 😭

tracksidebabe: this feels like the end of an era in the most literal way possible 😭 → lovergirlie: genuinely → paddockangel: maddy perez forever though 🤎

midnightvibes: the fact she specifically said it was for closure 😭 → starrylane: she knew we'd be emotional → softfilms: mission accomplished

velvetamelie: maddy perez really changed her life forever 🥹 → moonlightvibes: and ours honestly

raceweekendd: not me getting emotional over a wig 😭 → paddocklove: same unfortunately → lovergirlie: we're all too attached

goldenhourlane: season 1 premiere: baby amelie season 3 premiere: global superstar amelie 😭

papayaworld: she looked exactly like older maddy and younger maddy at the same time somehow 😭 → lanmeliefever: THAT'S IT → cherrysoda: perfectly said

softclouds: imagine telling 17 year old amelie she'd still be talking about maddy seven years later 😭

ameliehearts: her saying goodbye to maddy while being blonde now feels symbolic in a weird way 😭 → starrylan: like she's grown beyond that chapter → papayahours: stop i'm gonna cry again

tracksideangel: the side by side photos genuinely look like a timeline of her growing up 😭 → lovergirlie: that's why it hurts → paddockangel: literally watched her become an adult

sunsetdreamer: not the wig having more emotional significance than some movie endings 😭 → cherrysoda: academy award for the wig

coastallover: i know the hairstylist was terrified of messing that wig up 😭 → velvetroses: carrying seven years of lore on their shoulders → midnightamelie: enormous responsibility

goldenpapaya: she could've shown up blonde and nobody would've cared but she wanted that final brunette moment 😭 → lanmeliefever: because she cared

sunflowermelie: "one last time for maddy" has been stuck in my head for hours 😭 → lovelane: same honestly → dreamersclub: devastating sentence

gridgirlypop: i feel like the cast was probably emotional seeing her brunette again too 😭

softpapaya: maddy perez really survived every trend, every season break and every internet era 😭 → dreamersclub: cultural icon → lovelane: genuinely legendary character

ameliezone: i need someone to make an edit of all three premiere looks immediately 😭 → coastallover: with sad music

lan4worldchamp: meanwhile lando probably just thought "oh brunette today cool" 😭

midnightamelie: the funniest part is the fandom spent all day analyzing salon pictures 😭 → velvetroses: detective work for NOTHING → starrylan: she outsmarted us all

f1fairytale: there are people who started watching euphoria in high school and are now graduating college 😭 → moonlightvibes: time is terrifying actually

goldenhourlane: not the brunette wig getting a better farewell than some actual tv characters 😭 → lovergirlie: deserved honestly → paddocklove: maddy perez the legend that you are 🤎

--------------

The after-party had long since reached that strange point where nobody was paying attention to the clock anymore.

Music pulsed through the private rooftop venue in steady waves, bass vibrating faintly beneath expensive shoes while conversations overlapped into a constant blur of laughter, clinking glasses, and familiar voices. The Los Angeles skyline glittered beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, thousands of lights stretching endlessly into the darkness while celebrities, actors, producers, musicians, and friends drifted between clusters of people scattered throughout the venue. Some were dancing near the DJ booth. Others occupied lounge areas hidden beneath warm ambient lighting. Everywhere Lando looked, someone seemed to be celebrating.

The premiere had been a massive success.

Reviews were already flooding social media.

Photos from the carpet were everywhere.

Amelie had spent most of the evening being passed between interviews, cast members, photographers, executives, and friends she hadn't seen in months. Normally she handled events like this effortlessly. She floated through rooms with the ease of someone who had grown up in the industry, smiling at the right moments, remembering names, making everyone feel important.

What had caught Lando's attention wasn't that Amelie was drinking.

Amelie drank.

Everyone at events like this drank.

The unusual part was the pace.

Throughout the evening he'd watched her accept one drink after another with a smile that never quite reached her eyes. Nothing dramatic. Nothing obvious enough for anyone else to notice. She wasn't stumbling through conversations or slurring words. If anything, she looked perfectly normal to everyone around her. Years in Hollywood had taught her exactly how to function in rooms like these. But Lando knew her too well.

He knew how long she normally held onto a drink.

Knew when she was actually enjoying herself versus when she was trying to distract herself.

Knew the difference between celebration and avoidance.

Tonight felt like avoidance.

The realization had been lingering quietly in the back of his mind for nearly an hour as he watched her move through groups of cast members and friends. She'd laughed when she was supposed to laugh. Smiled for photos. Hugged people she hadn't seen in months. Congratulated crew members. Celebrated the success of the premiere.

Yet every time Lando's eyes found her across the room, there was something slightly off about the picture.

Nothing anyone else would have noticed.

Nothing dramatic enough to raise concern.

Just small things.

The way her gaze occasionally drifted somewhere far beyond the conversation she was currently having. The way she seemed determined to keep a drink in her hand at all times. The way her smile sometimes disappeared the second people looked away. The way she kept moving, never staying with one group for too long, as though standing still for more than a few minutes might force her to think about something she didn't want to think about.

Lando had spent enough years loving her to recognize avoidance when he saw it.

Which was exactly why he found himself standing at the bar a little after one in the morning instead of out on the dance floor where half the cast currently seemed determined to remain until sunrise.

The bartender nodded in recognition before he even reached the counter.

—Water?—

Lando laughed softly.

—That obvious?—

—You've ordered four for her tonight.—

—Five now.—

The bartender filled a glass while Lando glanced back toward the crowd. Somewhere near the dance floor, he could spot a group of actors dancing beneath flashing lights. Nearby, producers occupied a cluster of couches. A few tables away, someone was taking photos. The entire rooftop glittered beneath strings of warm lights suspended overhead, making the city beyond seem almost secondary to the celebration unfolding above it.

The bartender slid the glass across the polished counter a second later, condensation already forming against the outside from the contrast between the cold water and the warm California night. Lando wrapped his fingers around it just as a familiar pair of arms suddenly looped around his shoulders from behind, the scent of expensive perfume and champagne arriving a fraction of a second before the person herself did. He smiled immediately without needing to turn around. There were very few people in the world who would approach him like that, and only one who would somehow manage to make it feel both affectionate and completely normal.

Amelie rested her chin against his shoulder, pressing herself lightly against his back while he shifted one arm around her waist automatically. The brunette wig was gone now, replaced by her usual blonde hair, though a few loose strands had escaped whatever miracle of hairspray had kept everything perfect through hours of photographs, interviews, and dancing. Up close, he could see the slight flush coloring her cheeks and the softness in her eyes that appeared whenever she was tipsy. Not drunk. Just enough alcohol to lower her guard and make her a little more affectionate than usual. Her lips brushed briefly against the side of his neck, earning a quiet laugh from him.

—Hello to you too,— he murmured.

Instead of answering, she kissed his neck again.

—Amelie.—

Another kiss.

—Amelie.—

A third.

—You're distracting me.—

—Good,— she mumbled.

The bartender looked deeply entertained by the entire interaction.

Lando shook his head fondly before turning slightly and pressing the glass into her hands. The moment she saw the water, her expression transformed into one of mild betrayal, which only confirmed everything he'd been suspecting all evening. Normally she would have argued. Normally she would have complained about being treated like a child. Tonight, however, she simply stared at the glass for a moment before sighing dramatically.

—Drink it,— Lando ordered.

—You sound like my manager.—

—Drink the water.—

—You're both very annoying.—

—Water.—

Amelie narrowed her eyes at him for approximately two seconds before lifting the glass and obediently taking a sip.

Then another.

Then another.

Lando watched the entire thing suspiciously.

—All of it.—

—Bossy.—

—All of it.—

The fact that she complied without a real fight worried him more than he cared to admit. Amelie was stubborn by nature. Arguing was practically one of her hobbies. Seeing her quietly finish an entire glass of water while leaning against him made it impossible to ignore the feeling that something was off. Not dramatically wrong. Not enough to ruin the evening. Just enough to leave an uncomfortable weight sitting in the back of his mind.

The empty glass had barely left her hand before she was wrapping herself around him again, resting her forehead against his shoulder while the music continued thundering across the rooftop around them. Nearby, someone cheered at something happening on the dance floor. A burst of laughter erupted from one of the lounge areas. The city glittered endlessly beyond the edge of the building, unaware of the tiny shift occurring inside his chest as he looked down at her.

—Can we leave?— she asked softly.

The question immediately pulled a smile from him.

Not because it was unusual.

Quite the opposite.

At least three different times during every major event, one of them inevitably reached a point where the party stopped being worth the effort and escaping together became significantly more appealing. Usually it was Lando making the suggestion first. Sometimes it was Amelie. Tonight, considering the way she'd been glued to his side for the last ten minutes and the number of times she'd kissed his neck while pretending she wasn't trying to distract him, he assumed he knew exactly where her mind was.

His hand settled more securely against her lower back.

—Yeah?— he asked, lowering his voice slightly. —Ready to disappear?—

Amelie nodded against his shoulder.

—Please.—

There was something about the answer that should have registered immediately.

Something too quick.

Too eager.

Normally she'd spend another hour saying goodbye to people. Another hour stopping every ten feet because someone wanted a photo or a conversation or one last drink. Tonight she didn't even glance toward the dance floor.

That should have been the moment he realized something was wrong.

Instead, Lando simply smiled and pressed a quick kiss against the top of her head before reaching for his phone to send a message to security that they were leaving. The request seemed harmless enough on the surface. They'd both been working nonstop for weeks, the premiere had lasted hours, and Amelie looked exhausted beneath the carefully maintained smile she'd worn all evening. Wanting to escape early wasn't unusual. If anything, it was probably the most normal thing she'd done all night. The uneasy feeling lingering at the back of his mind remained there nevertheless, small and persistent, like a warning he couldn't quite hear clearly enough to understand.

By the time they reached the private exit, the city air felt cool against their skin after hours spent inside the crowded venue. The noise of the party faded behind them the moment the doors closed, replaced by the distant hum of Los Angeles at one in the morning. Security opened the rear door of the waiting SUV while the driver stepped out to greet them. Amelie slid into the back seat first, gathering the skirt of her dress carefully before settling against the leather upholstery. Lando followed a second later, automatically reaching for her hand once the door shut behind them.

The driver pulled away from the curb smoothly, merging into the nearly empty streets while skyscraper lights reflected against the dark windows. For several minutes neither of them spoke. Amelie leaned her head against his shoulder, fingers loosely intertwined with his, while Lando stared out at the city passing beyond the glass. Everything felt peaceful. Quiet. Comfortable. The exact kind of ending he would have expected after a successful premiere. It wasn't until nearly ten minutes later that he glanced outside again and felt confusion begin to creep in.

The uneasy feeling that had been lingering quietly at the back of his mind all evening finally sharpened when he noticed they weren't heading toward the mansion.

Los Angeles at one in the morning looked different than it did during the day. The traffic had thinned into scattered headlights. Storefronts sat dark and empty behind locked doors. Streetlights painted long stretches of pavement gold as the SUV moved steadily through neighborhoods Lando knew well enough to recognize.

He had spent enough time in the city over the years to understand where they should have been going, which was precisely why confusion began settling into his chest when the route continued changing. His arm remained wrapped securely around Amelie while she rested against him, her head tucked beneath his chin and one hand lazily tracing patterns against the fabric of his shirt, but his attention had shifted completely toward the window. The familiar skyline had disappeared behind them. Residential streets had given way to something quieter.

Lando frowned slightly as another unfamiliar turn carried them farther away from the route he had expected. His fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around Amelie's hand while he glanced from the window to the driver and back again, mentally trying to place where exactly they were heading.

Beside him, Amelie remained curled against his side, unusually quiet now that they had left the noise of the party behind. Earlier she had spent most of the ride tucked beneath his arm, her cheek pressed against his shoulder while he absentmindedly played with strands of her blonde hair, the comfortable silence between them feeling perfectly normal after a long night. Looking back, he realized she had barely spoken since they left the venue. At the time he had assumed she was simply exhausted from the premiere, the interviews, and the endless hours spent smiling for cameras, but now that same silence felt different. Intentional. Like she had known exactly where they were going the entire time.

The SUV gradually slowed before coming to a stop along a quiet road lined with tall trees, their branches swaying gently beneath pools of pale yellow light cast by nearby lamps. The neighborhood was peaceful in a way Los Angeles rarely managed to be, removed from the noise of downtown and the endless movement that seemed to define the city. Lando looked through the window, confusion deepening immediately when his eyes landed on the wrought-iron gates standing several yards ahead. The realization hadn't fully formed yet. His mouth had already begun opening to ask where they were when Amelie suddenly sat upright beside him, slipping out from beneath his arm before he could say a word.

Without explanation, she pushed open the door and climbed out.

Lando blinked.

—Amelie—

She ignored the question entirely.

By the time he stepped out after her, she was already walking around the back of the SUV where the driver had opened the trunk. The cool California air carried the faint scent of freshly cut grass and flowers through the darkness. Under the dim lighting he watched her reach inside and pull out a small bouquet, carefully arranged with white flowers tied together by a simple ribbon. The sight made something in his chest tighten immediately. She held them gently, almost protectively, before looking over her shoulder toward him.

—You coming or what?— she asked.

Lando remained standing beside the open car door for a second longer, staring first at the bouquet in her hands and then at the iron gates a short distance ahead. The realization hadn't fully landed yet, but he could feel it approaching, slow and heavy and unavoidable, like a storm finally reaching the shoreline after hours sitting on the horizon. The confusion that had followed him throughout the drive suddenly began connecting itself into something that made far more sense than he wanted it to. The unusual drinking. The distant look in her eyes all evening. The way she had wanted to leave the party almost immediately. The route through Los Angeles. The flowers. His stomach tightened slightly as he pushed the door closed behind him and started after her, the gravel crunching softly beneath his shoes while the cool night air wrapped around them. Amelie was already walking toward the entrance, her heels clicking quietly against the pavement, bouquet held carefully against her chest.

—Are you gonna tell me where we're going?— Lando asked gently as he caught up beside her, his voice softer now than it had been all evening. There was no teasing in it anymore. No jokes. Just concern and confusion and the growing suspicion that he was finally beginning to understand what tonight had really been about.

For a moment Amelie didn't answer. Her gaze remained fixed ahead, toward the gates illuminated by soft pools of light. The flowers shifted slightly in her hands as she adjusted her grip on them. When she finally spoke, her voice came out quieter than he'd expected.

—It’s Cameron’s birthday,— she said simply, like the words had been sitting inside her all day waiting for this exact moment to be spoken out loud.

Lando stopped walking for half a second, the name landing in his chest with a quiet heaviness that immediately changed the shape of everything he thought he understood about the night. He looked at her properly for the first time since they’d left the SUV, really looked, and suddenly the earlier distance made sense in a way that made his stomach tighten with something close to guilt for not realizing sooner. Amelie didn’t look at him when she spoke, her eyes still fixed on the gates ahead, but her grip on the bouquet was steady, careful in a way that suggested this wasn’t something fragile to her but something sacred she had been carrying alone for a long time. The wind moved gently through the trees above them, brushing soft shadows across the pavement, while Lando stood there trying to recalibrate his entire understanding of the past few hours around a truth he should have noticed earlier but didn’t.

Amelie finally exhaled, a small breath that sounded like she had been holding it in since the moment they left the premiere, and started walking again toward the entrance without waiting to see if he would follow. Her voice stayed low as she continued, almost conversational, like she was trying to make something unbearably heavy feel normal just by the way she said it.

—If I’m in LA when it happens, I try to come here. Every year. I didn’t want to… I don’t know, make it a thing tonight, so I didn’t say anything earlier.—

Lando followed her immediately this time, closing the space between them as the gates came closer, the ironwork lit softly under the streetlights. He glanced at her profile as they walked, noticing the way her expression had changed completely from the girl who had been laughing with him in the SUV minutes ago. There was no performance here, no red carpet version of her, no carefully managed smile for cameras or interviews. This was quieter, more contained, like she had stepped into a part of herself she only let exist in very specific places. The security guard near the entrance noticed her approach and, without hesitation or question, stepped aside to unlock the gate, giving her a small nod that carried familiarity rather than surprise, as if this wasn’t the first time he had seen her arrive like this on a night like this.

Lando frowned slightly, following her through the entrance as the metal gate opened with a soft creak behind them. The path inside was dimly lit, lined with trees and carefully maintained grounds that stretched into the darkness ahead, and for the first time since leaving the mansion he had no idea where he was being taken. He stayed half a step behind her, instinctively letting her lead, while his mind tried to process the weight of what she had just said. Cameron. The name wasn’t new to him, but it carried a different shape now that it was standing in front of him in a place like this, attached to a ritual she clearly repeated when no one else was watching.

—You didn’t tell me,— Lando said quietly after a few steps, not accusatory, just trying to understand the space she had kept from him without meaning to.

Amelie kept walking, her gaze forward, her voice steady but softer than before.

—Because I didn’t want you to feel sorry for me,— she replied immediately, like she had answered this question in her head a hundred times before ever saying it out loud to anyone. —And because today was already going to be… a lot. I didn’t want to turn it into something heavy for you too.—

Lando’s chest tightened at that, the words landing in a way that made him briefly look away from her, out toward the dark shapes of trees moving gently in the night air. The idea that she had carried this alone while still smiling for cameras, still sitting beside him at an after-party, still kissing his neck and laughing and acting like everything was normal, made something uncomfortable twist inside him. He realized then that what he had interpreted earlier as avoidance at the rooftop hadn’t been avoidance at all. It had been containment. Control. The effort of holding something deeply personal inside a night that belonged to other people’s celebrations.

They turned onto a narrower path, and Lando could now see the faint outline of headstones ahead, spaced quietly across the grass under the soft glow of scattered lights. His steps slowed without him meaning to, instinctively adjusting to the shift in atmosphere, while Amelie continued forward without hesitation, still holding the bouquet close to her chest.

—Is that why we’re going to brunch with his parents tomorrow?— Lando asked after a moment, his voice lower now, careful not to break whatever quiet this place required.

Amelie nodded once without looking back.

—Yeah. They like doing something on his birthday when I’m in town. We’ve done it before. I just… didn’t say anything because it felt unnecessary to explain everything twice.—

They walked further in, the rows of stones becoming clearer now, each one catching faint light as they passed. A security light flickered somewhere in the distance, but otherwise the space felt almost suspended, like the city didn’t exist beyond the gates. Lando stayed close to her side now, no longer unsure about following but still unsure about everything else, especially the fact that this was the first time he was seeing this part of her life. The part she didn’t post about. The part she didn’t bring to premieres or interviews or even conversations between them in quiet moments at home.

Amelie finally slowed her steps, scanning the rows as if she already knew exactly where she was going. Her voice dropped further, almost blending into the night air as she spoke again, more to herself than to him.

—This is the first time I’ve ever come here with someone,— she admitted quietly.

Lando looked at her then, really looked, and for the first time that night he understood the weight of what she had actually brought him into. Not just a place. Not just a memory. But something she had never shared with anyone else before, not even him, until now.

Lando didn’t answer immediately, because there wasn’t anything in him that felt strong enough to become words without breaking the quiet that Amelie was clearly holding together with careful control. Instead, he simply stayed close beside her as she continued walking through the cemetery, the soft crunch of gravel beneath their steps feeling almost disrespectful in a place that seemed designed for silence rather than sound. The air here was different from the city outside the gates, heavier in a way he couldn’t quite describe, as if every movement automatically asked for permission. Amelie didn’t look at him as she spoke, but her voice stayed steady, guiding him through something that clearly wasn’t new to her even if it was new to him, and that realization alone made him more attentive than anything else had all night.

—He’s over there,— she said softly after a moment, finally slowing as she turned slightly between two rows of headstones, her eyes scanning until something in her posture shifted almost imperceptibly, like she had found what she was looking for without needing confirmation.

Lando followed her gaze, but he still couldn’t see clearly from where he stood, only the vague shapes of stone markers arranged in quiet rows beneath dim light. He stayed a step behind her as she began walking again, this time slower, more deliberate, the bouquet held closer to her chest as if it had suddenly become heavier the closer they got. The further they walked, the more Lando became aware of how Amelie’s entire energy had changed since stepping through the gates. There was no performance left in her now, no version of herself shaped for public spaces or crowded rooms. This was something else entirely, something private enough that even standing next to her felt like he was witnessing a memory instead of a moment.

When she finally stopped, Lando did too.

It took him a second to register the name engraved on the stone in front of them, not because he didn’t recognize it, but because seeing it like this made it real in a way conversations and stories never had. Cameron Boyce. The letters were clean and simple, carved into polished stone that reflected faint light from above, surrounded by small traces of life left behind by other visitors. Flowers. A few worn tokens. Things placed carefully over time by people who still came back. Lando felt something tighten in his chest as he looked at it properly for the first time, not as a name he had heard in passing, but as a person whose absence clearly still shaped the life of the girl standing beside him.

Amelie stepped forward before he could say anything, lowering herself into the space in front of the headstone with a familiarity that made it clear she had done this before, even if she had never done it with him there. She placed the bouquet gently down, adjusting the flowers with small, precise movements that felt almost ritualistic, like she was making sure everything looked exactly the way she wanted it to. Lando stayed where he was at first, unsure whether moving closer would feel intrusive, but Amelie didn’t seem bothered by his presence. If anything, she seemed quieter because of it, like having him there had changed something she had been carrying alone for years without making it heavier.

Amelie stayed kneeling for a few seconds longer than necessary, fingers lightly brushing over the ribbon of the bouquet as if grounding herself through something physical rather than emotional, and when she finally spoke again her voice came out smaller than anything Lando had ever heard from her. It didn’t break dramatically. It didn’t fall apart all at once. It just softened in a way that made it feel like she was carefully holding every word so it wouldn’t spill out too fast.

—Every time I come here, it makes it real again,— she admitted quietly, staring at the engraved name like she was afraid looking anywhere else would undo her control completely. —Not like I forget. I don’t. But when I’m here, it’s like… I don’t know. It stops being something that happened in the past and becomes something that’s still happening. Still missing. Still unfair.—

Her breath caught slightly on the last word, and she pressed her fingertips into the grass beneath her as if steadying herself. The city of Los Angeles felt impossibly far away now, like it belonged to a different version of her life entirely, one where she was still smiling under cameras and holding Lando’s hand and pretending the night had been nothing more than a celebration. Here, under the dim cemetery lights and the quiet weight of names carved into stone, none of that version existed in the same way anymore. Lando didn’t move closer yet, but he didn’t look away either, because something in her voice had shifted into a place that didn’t belong to performance or public life or anything he was used to seeing from her.

Amelie swallowed hard, forcing herself to continue even though her eyes had already started to shine in a way she clearly hated. —I know people think time makes it easier, but it doesn’t really. It just… teaches you how to carry it better. How to function around it. But then I come here and it’s like all of that disappears for a few minutes and I remember exactly how it felt when I got the call and I couldn’t breathe properly for days.—

Her voice cracked slightly on the word call, and that was the first time she paused long enough for silence to fully settle between them. The wind moved gently through the trees above, shifting the shadows across the headstone, and Lando finally took a step closer without really deciding to. He didn’t interrupt her. He didn’t try to fix anything. He just lowered himself slowly onto the grass beside her, close enough that their shoulders almost touched, but not so close that it felt like he was intruding on something sacred.

Amelie kept her gaze forward, but her breathing had changed now, less controlled, more fragile around the edges.

—It breaks me a little every time I see his name,— she continued, quieter now, like admitting it out loud cost her something she couldn’t get back. —Because it feels wrong that it just… stays there. Like that’s the only place he gets to exist now. A stone. A date. A name people pass by and keep walking. And I hate that I can’t do anything about it. I hate that life just keeps moving and he doesn’t.—

The tears she had been holding back all evening finally won.

Not dramatically.

Not all at once.

One moment she was staring at the engraved letters, her voice trembling around the edges of every sentence, and the next a tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it. Amelie closed her eyes immediately, almost annoyed by it, as though her own emotions had betrayed her at the worst possible moment. She lifted a hand to wipe it away, but another followed, and then another, each one arriving faster than the last despite her obvious determination not to cry.

Lando felt his chest tighten painfully at the sight.

Not because he had never seen her cry.

He had.

Life had given them both enough reasons over the years.

But there was something uniquely heartbreaking about this version of it. The way she was still trying to be composed. The way she kept looking at the headstone as if she owed it her attention despite how much it hurt. The way she seemed almost embarrassed by her grief even though there wasn't a single thing about it that required apology.

Amelie let out a shaky breath and laughed softly through the tears, the sound completely humorless.

—God, I hate this part,— she admitted quietly, shaking her head while staring down at the grass. —Every year I tell myself I'm not going to cry. Every single year. I spend weeks convincing myself I'm older now, that it's been long enough, that I'm okay, and then I come here and it's exactly the same.—

Her voice cracked again.

This time she didn't try to hide it.

The cemetery remained silent around them, the distant city lights barely visible through the trees. Somewhere in the darkness a breeze moved through the branches overhead, carrying the scent of flowers and freshly cut grass across the grounds.

Amelie swallowed hard.

—I know he's gone. Rationally, I know that. I know it every day. But seeing his name here... seeing the stone... it makes it impossible to pretend for even a second that this isn't real.—

Her gaze returned to the headstone.

The engraved letters.

The dates.

The undeniable permanence of it.

Fresh tears blurred her vision almost immediately.

—Because this is it,— she whispered. —Every movie, every photo, every memory, every joke, every stupid thing he ever said... it all ends here. And I hate that. I hate it so much.—

The words dissolved into a sob she clearly hadn't intended to let escape.

Lando moved without thinking.

One second he was sitting beside her.

The next his arm was around her shoulders, gently pulling her toward him.

Amelie resisted for approximately half a heartbeat before collapsing into his side.

The fight left her instantly.

She turned her face into his shoulder, one hand gripping the fabric of his shirt as years of carefully managed grief finally cracked open beneath the weight of the night.

Lando wrapped both arms around her immediately.

Holding her tighter.

Steadier.

One hand slid into her hair while the other rested against her back, rubbing slow circles between her shoulder blades as she cried.

He didn't tell her to stop.

Didn't tell her everything would be okay.

Didn't offer meaningless comfort for something that wasn't fixable.

Instead he simply held her.

The same way she had held him through losses and disappointments and fears that couldn't be solved.

The same way people hold someone when love is the only thing they have left to give.

Amelie cried quietly against him for several minutes.

The kind of crying that came from somewhere deep.

Not loud.

Not dramatic.

Just years of missing someone who should still have been here.

Years of birthdays that continued arriving without him.

Years of accomplishments she couldn't tell him about.

Years of carrying memories that refused to become lighter no matter how much time passed.

—He would've loved tonight,— she whispered eventually, her voice muffled against his shoulder. —That's the stupid part. He would've been making fun of me all day. He would've stolen food from the catering table. He would've embarrassed me in front of everyone on the carpet.—

A watery laugh escaped her.

—He would've hated the wig.—

Lando smiled sadly against the top of her head.

—Probably.—

—Definitely.—

Another tear slipped free.

—And every time something good happens, I still think about calling him.—

The admission shattered something inside him.

Because there was no performance left in her now.

No Hollywood star.

No actress.

No public figure.

Just a girl sitting beside her best friend's grave wishing she could share one more conversation with someone she loved.

Lando lowered his head and pressed a kiss into her hair.

His eyes drifted toward the stone a few feet away.

Toward the name that had shaped so much of the person he loved.

Toward the boy he'd never met but somehow felt grateful to.

Because parts of Cameron still existed.

In her stories.

In her laughter.

In the habits she'd picked up from him.

In the way she spoke about him years later as if love had simply changed shape instead of disappearing.

—He'd be really proud of you, you know,— Lando said quietly.

Amelie squeezed her eyes shut.

Fresh tears immediately appeared.

—You don't know that.—

—I do.—

She shook her head.

—Lando—

—Look at everything you've done.—

His voice remained soft.

Certain.

—Look at tonight. Look at your career. Look at your life. Look at the people who love you. You're one of the strongest people I've ever met, Amelie.—

She laughed weakly.

—I'm literally crying in a cemetery.—

—Yeah.—

His arm tightened around her shoulders.

—Because you loved someone.—

The simple truth of it settled between them.

Heavy.

Gentle.

Impossible to argue with.

Amelie stared at the headstone for a long time after that.

No longer trying to stop the tears.

No longer pretending she was okay.

Just sitting there in the quiet with Lando beside her and Cameron's name in front of her, allowing herself to feel the grief she'd spent the entire evening trying to outrun.

Eventually her head settled against Lando's shoulder again.

His hand found hers immediately.

Their fingers intertwined naturally.

The way they always did.

The cemetery remained silent around them, wrapped in darkness and memory, while somewhere far beyond the gates Los Angeles continued celebrating premieres and success and another ordinary night.

Here, however, time felt different.

Slower.

Softer.

For a while neither of them spoke.