simone

“Cabron!” Lando shouted, holding his suit in order to jog quicker.

The Spaniard slightly turned his gaze at him but returned to Rupert, carrying on their conversation.

Rupert nodded and smiled when Lando clasped his shoulder.

“Alright?” he asked the trainer. “Hot innit?” he grinned.

“And you’re going to have to race.” Rupert remarked, giving him a kind pat and stepping a bit back to reach Gino.

Lando’s eyes returned to Carlos, who hadn’t interact with him yet.

“What is it?” he asked him.

“What? Nothing.” Lando shrugged. “I’m a bit jittery.” he revealed.

“Calm down. Everything’s good.” Carlos replied him, almost dismissively, a tone the other man never possessed for him.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion but quickly disregarded it.

“Are we training this week?” he asked him.

“I will be very busy.” Carlos replied, typing something on his phone and quickly burying it in his pocket. Finally, his eyes found Lando, but the Brit only saw emptiness.

“Carlos, are you okay?” he finally asked by micro-analysing all the wrong signs.

“I’ll see you later.” Carlos said and just like that, he walked away.

Lando stood there, watching him as he increased the distance between them. He watched as Carlos finally disappeared around Alpine’s motorhome, leaving him alone and extremely confused.

The great mystery of detached Carlos carried on for the extent of the week and when he never received a reply to his golf invitation, Lando gave up to focus on his race.

“Who from the grid was born in 1994?” Will asked then and instantly Lando pressed the little buzzer button.

“Carlos Sainz.” he replied.

“Ah! There you go! A point for you!” Will excitedly said.

“That’s 7-1.” Oscar reminded them the score.

“Well,” Lando grimaced. “I’ve had better days.” he playfully said to the camera and thusly, the silly YouTube game for the official channel, ended.

Will waved them a polite goodbye as Lando shuffled further into the sofa.

“Mate, you’re miserable.”

“Yeah, thanks Oscar.” he rolled his eyes before shutting them both.

“Oh, you’re in that mood.” he heard the Australian remarking and he hated him a little. The other Australian who was making his life hard once again in his own team. Sharp tongued and funny in a whole different way.

“Piss off, mate.” he mumbled and tried to sound as playful as possible.

He heard the faint sound of Oscar’s giggle as he was leaving the room and finally he found a good time for solitude and peacefulness.

He missed the podium for a tenth of a second and climbed out of his car with a granule of disappointment.

“Are we on for tomorrow?” Caco asked him, finding him outside hospitality.

Lando finished signing a picture of him and turned to the Spaniard.

“Yeah, Max told me you booked it.” he said. “Is Carlos coming?” he asked him.

Caco raised his eyebrows then but quickly schooled his expression to return to normal.

“I don’t know. This triple-header has been hard on him. We’ll see. It’s either going to be Rupert or him.” he replied.

Lando squinted.

“See you at eight.” Caco said, tapping his back.

When Lando arrived at the padel place hopeful, he got disappointed again. The other three players were already in the court but Carlos was nowhere to be seen.

“Are we doing Britain versus Europe?” Rupert grinned at him.

“Sure.” Lando shrugged taking his place in the field.

Max bumped his racket on Caco’s and walked in order to execute the first little serve.

“Carlos coming?” Lando asked Rupert.

“Um, no.” the Brit replied, dipping lower, focused forward.

If Lando got disappointed again, he never showed it.

‘Cabron? Is everything alright?’ Lando had to try again because the though if Carlos being that cold was so unsettling, he couldn’t relax when he was thinking about it.

He was tired enough to not having realised that the next day he was in Mexico City. It took him around ten minutes to remember his plane ride and a few more to actually decide to get up.

He trained intensely and ate his wrap with such eagerness, as if he was a starved man.

Still nothing.

Sunday’s driver’s parade came in a blink of an eye and Lando searched for Carlos before he was waved by Oscar to join him in their car.

“Were you looking for something?” Oscar asked him when the car started moving.

“You.” Lando replied, smiling towards the crowd.

Oscar hummed a bit unconvincingly but nevertheless, let it go. Sometimes Lando thought that the young Australian knew more than he revealed. Behind that quiet stance he had going on, he was observant and intelligent. Lando hated that. ‘Hate’ perhaps was a strong word.

“Carlos!” he finally found the man, as he was taking with Max.

Both men turned to find the source of the voice and one of them smiled widely. It was Max. Only Max smiled.

“I was just telling him how team Europe obliterated team Britain last Monday.” Max teased him immediately.

“I was out of form.” Lando sniffed, playing it cool. “Where have you been mate? You miss both padel and golf practice.” he placed his hand on Carlos’s upper arm, forgetting the cameras around them for only a moment. He let go of him then, staring, wanting to hear a word from him.

“I have been experiencing a few back pains.” Carlos replied him. Coldly; absolutely coldly.

“You? You have never been in pain since I’ve known you.” he said.

“Well, perhaps because I’m getting old.” Carlos spat out and yeah, something was definitely wrong.

“You’re not even thirty yet, mate.” Max added to the conversation when Lando’s silence filled the space.

“Anyway, I’ll see you later.” Carlos chose to ignore Max’s utterance and Lando’s concerned gaze, walking away immediately a second after.

‘How’s your back? How are we going to golf in November?’ He wrote before placing a laughing emoji. He stared at the screen and contemplated on whether to send it or not.

He had tried again to talk to him on Thursday evening, when he saw him outside Ferrari, getting Senior’s attention first.

“Lando Norris!” Senior hugged him. “How are you son?” he asked.

“I’m well and you?” he replied him politely.

“You are having a fantastic season. Congratulations!” he said to him.

Lando nodded affirmatively and finally turned to Carlos.

“I have been texting you. How is your back?” he asked him.

Carlos finally looked at him, brushing his fingers through his hair.

“It’s fine.” he replied him.

Lando inhaled deeply, biting down his tongue in order to stop himself from really barking at Carlos that he had been awful and cold and distant and unfamiliar.

“Are you? Fine?” he pushed just a bit more.

“I’m busy. Pa, let’s go?” he asked him turning around and climbing the little red steps.

Lando furrowed his eyebrows, watching him once again disappearing.

“He has been strange. He is angry.” Senior said to Lando. “He is bad with respect. He takes things very seriously, especially from you.”

Lando turned to the older man quickly.

“What? What do you mean? What did I do?”

Lando jogged to his motorhome and texted both Jon and Max.

“Havent you seen the video I’ve sent you a week ago?” Max asked him through the line.

“No, I must have forgotten.” Lando replied him. “What is it? How did you know what I’m talking about?” Lando furtively asked.

“Because you did him dirty man! It’s a complication of the same interview and it was all over Twitter.”

“What the fuck?” Lando whispered and quickly ended the call.

He remembers the interview; it was with some American podcast and he remembered having a miserable time but trying still to be funny and relaxed.

“I’ve had this question ninety three times,” he giggled. “There are not many friends around…I consider Max and Lewis the only two strong drivers…Carlos made a lot of mistakes in that, yeah…Friends is a very big word…He didn’t help me, he did it for himself, of course…Except from me I would like Oscar to win the Championship…Haha, no, Oscar, not Carlos…I wish I could climb to fourth and pass Charles…What? Carlos is? Carlos is above Charles? I didn’t expect that!”

Lando cringed to the last line and locked his phone, placing it on the massage bed next to him.

“Why the fuck would someone make a fucking compilation of that?” he asked the room through his teeth. “And fucking tag-” he didn’t finish his utterance in order to take a deep breath in.

“Lando, what is it?” Jon asked him.

“Have you seen this?” he showed him the video.

“Ah, yes. It was all over Twitter-”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded through a foul squeal.

“Because we have a job to do-”

“I don’t need the tough love, Jon. Why did the PR-you know what? I’m leaving.” he jumped off the bed and went looking for his backpack.

“I can talk to PR.” Jon offered.

“No, leave it. The point was to-fuck.” he couldn’t bear to explain either.

He returned to his hotel room and after a warm shower he fell on the bed very keen on sleeping.

It was sudden and overwhelming. He was used to pushing down and down everything that had to with Carlos; everything that wasn’t the friendship they had built. He had locked away the desire that had slowly grown within him. Memories, moments risked back from every time he had though a bit more than he should have. When Carlos had looked at him a certain way, the way he had smiled, the way he had touched him.

Each word echoed in his mind, the dam of restraint broke. Tears welled up in his eyes and the anguish of unspoken love and pain washed over him. He was vulnerable and exposed to himself like never before. He wasn’t as daft as he presented himself and he had realised his feelings long ago and because of that again, he had buried them deep inside, where even intrusive thoughts could not win.

“I didn’t mean anything bad. I was trying to be cool or whatever. Carlos, you know me.” he sent. Perhaps it was too simple or perhaps it was too much, but Lando needed to do something, to say something and opted for that. If he was to overthink it, he would have never sent it.

The long awaited reply didn’t come, even on FP Friday and he felt an emptiness in his stomach, still his words about Charles echoing in his mind.

“Good job! Let’s do the same on quali, yeah?” Will smiled at him.

“Of course.” Lando agreed and pulled out his headphones.

He was miserable. He was miserable at training, at dinner and even in his hotel room when he was in the confines of his own space.

He stared at the unanswered text, and the one above it and the one right above the other.

That son of a bitch. He hated him. He absolutely despised him.

“That’s a pole position!” Will said in his ears. “*Good job! Need lineup?”

“Hey-yo! Yes!” Lando pressed the radio button, slowing down. “Yes! Gimme!”

“P2 Sainz, P3 Leclerc, P4 Verstappen, P5 Hamilton.” Will announced him.

“Well shit.” Lando mumbled after making sure he had his thumb off the radio button.

Charles approached him and told him something about turn seven while Lando was absolutely stuck on Carlos. The driver mode was off and he was back to a new kind of pinning; after so long he had reached this part. Distant unrequited pinning without even realising.

“Good job.” Carlos patted his shoulder when he approached him to get photographed.

“Oh, he speaks.” Lando said through his teeth, smiling to the cameras.

Charles must have heard him because he turned his head to look at him, but did not remark.

And just like this, the Spaniard walked away.

Lando felt his heart dropping and tried really hard to school his expression to a neutral one when he returned to the garage and was congratulated by everyone.

“Carlos, this is getting ridiculous.”

“My tyres are gone, man.” he said to the radio line.

“Push as long as you can. Two laps to go.” Will said to him and really Lando knew the answer. They hadn’t expected that kind of degradation and there was no room for a pit stop, he wasn’t far enough from the Ferrari behind him. He was rather sure that on the next DRS zone, he was going to get overtaken. There was no point making his tyres pop.

It was Carlos’s Ferrari that made a move on turn four of all the turns and Lando tried to defend but it was useless.

“Lando, don’t fight with him, we need to finish.”

“Wasn’t gonna.” Lando replied Will a bit annoyed. He looked on his mirror and saw Lewis behind.

“One corner, Lando.” he heard and inhaled deeply. “That’s it! Well done! P2!”

“Thanks guys, I’m sorry about the tyres, I’m not sure what went wrong.” he addressed the whole garage and factory and let go of the button.

He watched as Carlos stood on his Ferrari and raised his arms up. His eyes caught his father and walked quickly to him, keeping his visor down. His eyes were destroyed by the sweet and the tears that had started forming the moment he had got out his car. Every emotion he carried burst out of him completely. Out of the blue.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to find Carlos waiting for him.

“Sorry.” he said to him the moment he embraced him.

“My fault.” Lando replied him.

Carlos pulled back and reached for his visor, raising it up to find his eyes. Oh, the Twitter people were going to have a field trip.

“Lando?” a question in his voice.

Thankfully, the director had to take Carlos away for his interview with DC and Lando managed to weight himself, calm down and take his balaclava off in order to wet his whole face with water. Good enough.

“What happened?” Lewis asked him in the cool down room.

“My tyres were destroyed. There was a massive increase on the asphalt heat.” he replied him.

Carlos walked into the room two and went straight for his water. He looked at the screen and his gaze stayed there for the whole minute they remained in the room.

The cameras cut and Carlos turned to him.

“Okay?” he asked him.

“Yeah.” Lando shrugged and followed Lewis.

He was drenched in champagne by the both men on the podium and smiled for the picture.

“Oi! Look here!” Rupert met them in the hallway, pointing his phone at them.

He opened his instagram and found no post; not like the last time. There was no use of the word “carlando”. There was nothing.

“Carlos…”

He threw his phone to his side and placed his arms over his eyes, trying really hard to not release what he actually felt.

“Jon, can you do me a huge favour?” he asked the drowsy man on the other side of the line.

He walked and decided he, under no circumstance, would ever say to anyone that he walked alone at that time of the night around São Paolo until he reached Carlos’s hotel.

“Carlos, it’s me.” he said as lowly as possible when he heard shuffling from the other side of the door.

The door opened and Carlos appeared, semi-naked and very sleepy.

“Lando- what the-”

“I’m sorry.” Lando stopped him, shutting the door behind him. “I hadn’t realised-I didn’t mean all that, it sounded awful.” he said.

Carlos pulled over his head a t-shirt and fixed his hair by fluffing them even more than before.

“I was being sarcastic and a bit annoyed with the hosts. I don’t remember anything.”

“Lando, okay,” Carlos rubbed his face with his palm and took a step forward. “It’s okay if you feel that way-”

“But I don’t! I think you are a very intelligent and strong driver and of course you can win the Championship and of course you are my friend and of course you are above Charles. I was just-just teasing-I don’t know!” he said all in one breath, feeling his eyes stinging. He wouldn’t cry. No.

“It’s not about-you-I cannot do this.”

“No, you will.” Lando took a step forward too. “You have been awful and you never told me why. I had to find out from your dad?”

Carlos exhaled lengthily. He was tired, he looked it certainly.

“You are welcomed to have those opinions. I just always think that friends should support each other and it’s all I have done since the first time I saw you. I met you.” Carlos tried to translate his thoughts into English, poor man. “I know it’s just press but sometimes words hurt especially from your friend. But well, you said there are no friends around.”

Lando blinked at him. His hand hovered above his neck by its own accord and he felt his breathing quickening.

“You are my friend. It was stupid and I didn’t think about it too much.”

“All I am saying is that support and respect are everything for me. I think that I have been both since we have met. But still, your opinion is your opinion Lando. Now I know that you feel-”

“No,” Lando said moving towards him and grabbing his face between his palms. He needed for Carlos to look at him right in the eye. To make sure he was looking. “I think you are incredible, Carlos. I-I think you are everything.” he whispered, his eyes falling on the Spaniard’s plump lips.

Carlos slightly raised his eyebrows in surprise but didn’t push him away, he didn’t falter.

“Lando…”

“I’m sorry. I was trying to be cool or whatever. My mind is a mess sometimes.” he said.

Carlos slightly nodded, afraid of disturbing Lando’s hold.

“Cabron,” the slightly taller man whispered. “I’m sorry. You can explain everything, I can too.”

A goddamn tear escaped him and he went to wipe it but Carlos beat him to it and caught it with his thumb.

“Don’t. Lando,” he breathed. “Kiss me.” he uttered.

“What?” Lando stuttered.

“Will you? I want to show you that I believe you and that I’m sorry too.” he explained.

And again, Lando wasn’t as daft as he portrayed himself. He would be pretty dense if he didn’t just do it. So he did.

Carlos tried to show him and he succeeded, making him a moaning mess. Who would have thought? Well, Lando had thought.

“Carlos…” he whispered when they finally paused.

“Cariño.” Carlos run his fingers through Lando’s curls. “That was bound to happen from the very start, no?” he smiled lopsidedly.

Lando mirrored him but his grin became wider, wilder.

“Yeah, yes it was.” he giggled.

Lando heard his name again, but this time came from a very familiar voice.

“Where are you going?” Carlos was outside Ferrari’s motorhome with a few people, including Fred Vasseur.

“I’m leaving. Catching the red eye to Tokyo.” Lando approached them.

“What? Are we not celebrating?” Carlos asked him, while pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“No, I’m exhausted. Sorry.” he replied automatically.

Carlos glared but nevertheless unlocked his phone and showed Lando the post he had already seen right after the conference. The Carlando one.

“I will do this thing that I did on Caco’s wedding. The shared thing.” he tried to explain what Lando grasped in seconds.

He looked down on Carlos’s phone and smiled to the picture. Again. As if he had seen it for the first time.

“Sure, do it.” Lando replied nonchalantly.

“Here here.” Fred Vasseur handed him a beer bottle and waited for him to clink.

Lando chuckled at that and took a sip just to be graceful.

“Good job out there. You’re good.” the Frenchman said.

“I know!” Lando repleid through a grin. “See you later, okay?” he raised his bottle again and with a last wink to Carlos, he started walking away.

“Lando!” he heard Carlos again.

The Spaniard was jogging towards him then and Lando glanced at his father who smiled lightly and walked forwards to give them a bit of unsaid space.

“Are you seriously leaving?” Carlos caught up to him and gripped his upper arm tightly.

“Yup.” Lando replied, avoiding his eyes.

“Lando! We-we were 1-2!”

“You’re gonna go out with Ferrari, C. I’m-I’ll see you at Suzuka-”

“Is there anything wrong?” Carlos interrupted his stutter and slightly hunched and tries to find his eyes.

“No, nah,” Lando replied him through a big grin, finally looking at him. “I’m very happy about today and very, extremely tired.”

Carlos mirrored him and smiled too.

“Text me when you arrive, okay?” he told him meaningfully.

“Right! Have fun but not too much.” Lando said to him and started walking away once again.

He disembarked with a furrowed brow and a blurry mind. The events of his day had left him absolutely buzzing and excited, however an emptiness hovered above him. The hum of the aeroplane engines seemed to echo the confusion in that very mind. He stared out, the world below looking disjoined.

His only error in those last 24 hours was opening up Twitter.

“…And cut! Thanks guys!” Mark said and immediately Lando placed his sweets down.

“You okay?” Oscar asked him, as the remaining people in the room were gathering their equipment.

“Yeah, yup, yesh.” Lando raised his head.

“Say it one more time and I’ll believe you.”

Lando parted his lips to reciprocate the sarcasm to the younger driver, but Mark entered the space again.

“Come on. Bee time.” he said, clapping his hands together.

Lando jumped up and walked away Oscar quickly, leaving space for no more questions about his cranky attitude.

“Seb!” he placed his hand on the German’s shoulder. “Back here then?”

“Hello Lando.” Sebastian clasped his hand and side-hugged him. “Brilliant race in Singapore.” he said.

“Thanks, mate. How have you been?”

They discussed all the way to the little bus and entered it, as Sebastian was saying something about pollinating.

He tried to push away the absence of Carlos in the bus and talked to Alex about his sleepless night in Tokyo.

There were almost all of them there, even Andrea, making witty remarks to Franz.

“You’re late!” Sebastian shouted as Carlos ran towards the right side of the banner. Then everyone booed and complained and laughed at his tardiness, even himself smiled to everybody’s reactions.

Carlos spared him a glance before grabbing the banner.

He tired to draw a bee but failed miserably and opted for the pre-made little designs. Oddly satisfying honestly.

He stretched his waist to the right and rubbed at the sensitive spot that hurt the most.

“Lando, what-where have you been!” he couldn’t get a break even behind one of those bee hotels, it appeared.

“Painting bee homes obviously.” he replied sarcastically, looking around to the semi-deserted location. Half the drivers had fled after all the pictures and the videos. He could see the Red Bulls, the Ferraris and Sebastian mostly. And Yuki. Yuki was there too.

“I have texted you and called you. What the fuck?”

“What do you want exactly? I was busy.” Lando replied coldly.

Carlos didn’t need to know that his heart was beating helplessly and immaculately quickly.

“Lando.” Carlos’a voice lowered and he reached for his forearm.

Lando took a step back and looked around again.

Carlos furrowed his eyebrows and stared at his empty grip.

“Is this-are you-the party.” he concluded.

“You know Carlos,” Lando shook his head, inhaling deeply. “I don’t have time for this. I have work to do.”

“You know that I had to.”

“Bullshit, okay?” Lando smiled through his teeth. “Just fucking bullshit.” he repeated and turned around.

“You’re off too?” Sebastian asked him, matching his strides.

“Work to do! You would know.” Lando replied him warmly. “I hope I’ll see you tomorrow. Thank you for this, it’s good what you’re doing.”

“No, thank you, Lando. Thanks.” Sebastian grinned at him. “I’ll see you again tomorrow. Good luck.” he wished him.

I am outside your door.

Lando opened his door and blinked at a dishevelled Carlos, who immediately entered the room without invite.

“It’s very late, Carlos.” he told him, shutting the door.

“What is going on?” Carlos ignored his utterance completely.

“Nothing is going.” Lando replied, crossing his arms in front of him.

Carlos parted his lips but closed them quickly, taking a step forward, grabbing the Brit’a face between his two palms. He leaned in and placed a hardly-there kiss on his lips. Lando felt goosebumps up and down his core but did not reciprocate.

Carlos pulled back, stop holding him.

“You’re not kissing me.” he whispered.

Lando untangled his arms and raised his right one, circling Carlos’s wrist with his fingers. He was trembling or it was Carlos trembling, he didn’t know, he couldn’t understand. Slowly, he pulled the Spaniard’s hand away his face and took a step back.

“I can’t do this, Carlos.”

“You can’t do what?” the other man immediately asked.

“This.” Lando waved his hands between them. “This.” he then repeated, pulling his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it, going straight to his camera roll. To a picture that his friend Carl had send him.

Carlos blinked, trying to focus his eyes on the screen.

“Lando,” he muttered. “Lando, you know why I have to do this-”

“I did but I don’t anymore.” Lando raised his voice just slightly. “Not anymore.”

Carlos recoiled. He pulled his hands to himself and gripped them together. He appeared defensive. Stiff.

“I am not a teen anymore. I cannot play these games.” he carried on. “I cannot lie to everyone around and myself. I cannot pretend.”

“But it’s F1 Lando! You know how it is!” Carlos countered.

“I don’t care.” the Brit immediately uttered.

“You do! You do care about this.”

“About driving, not watching you kiss and touch and-and do all this to keep an image! I despise it. I feel filthy.”

“You know it isn’t like that-”

“And the only moment you properly acknowledged me was after you used me-us to win Singapore.” he had been holding that for about a week.

“I did not use you!” Carlos raised his voice too. “I did this for both of us! For me to win and for you to not lose you podium.”

“Fuck the fucking podium!” Lando properly shouted then. “You were all smiley and touchy after you used us to gain-to gain sympathy because you saw-” he stopped himself abruptly. He couldn’t. He couldn’t do this.

He took in a deep breath and raised his still trembling hand to his eyes.

“I am out. I don’t like lying. I don’t like seeing you like this. It’s sick, Carlos.”

The other man stared at him. His eyes were stuck on him and his chest was raising and falling in a rapid rhythm that redundantly matched his own heart’s.

“You said,” Carlos croaked and cleared his throat in order to try again. “You said that you understood.”

“I don’t anymore.” Lando deadpanned. “It makes me sick the man you become in order to appear like a bloody woman’s man or whatever Ferrari has you doing. It makes me sick that your family pretends that they buy it and it makes me sick that you let it happen.”

“I cannot do otherwise.”

“But I can.” Lando whispered. “I never said to hard launch or whatever you think I’m implying. But this? This is another level that I can’t stand by and watch.” he said.

Carlos blinked twice and hung his head low, shaking it.

“I never used you.” he only said.

“It felt like it. And all this do not help.” Lando stood his ground.

“You said you were in love with me.”

“And it’s the truth, but why does it matter? It’s shit, Carlos.”

The other man then touched him again, gripping his upper arms tightly. Squeezing. Trying.

“Please, cariño.” he said to him.

“You should live your life as you want and I should live mine as I want.” Lando said. “I cannot live in this fucking, hurting prison.”

Lando perhaps expected something else. It was true that hope died last or some shit people said. But when Carlos left his room, he felt absolutely defeated and hurt.

Truth was he could not handle it. The lying, the pretending, the detail-organised everything. The chattering. The pictures. He couldn’t even think even though he was PR trained himself. He couldn’t. So he cried. He cried inside the comfort of his room, where no one could hear him, judge him, comfort him or advise him.

When Martin sent him a text about a possible party on Sunday for Max’s almost certain Championship win, he immediately confirmed.

“Good job, mate!” Max clasped his hand.

“Me? You.” he chuckled, fixing his hair. “Oh, oops.” he went to wrap his hand around Max’s waist at the same time as him.

Max playfully slapped his bum, making everyone around laugh.

“Idiot.” he pushed him while walking to the conference room.

“Somebody’s gonna be jealous.” Max playfully whispered.

“No. Don’t.” Lando immediately stopped him.

Max grimaced at that but chose to remain silent for the rest of their route.

It was a song, a pretty song that reminded Lando of summer and freedom. Very cheesy, very cliché. Nevertheless, he swayed left to right, keeping his eyes closed slightly longer than the norm.

“We’re doing shots.”

“Mate,” Lando clasped Max’s shoulder. “Mr. Champion, I am leaving. You told me I can go after your fourth drink.”

“Boo Lando!”

“No!” Lando playfully pushed him. “I did the thing and I celebrated you.”

Max nodded at that and gave a quick hug at him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, slightly hunching to find his eyes.

“I’m fine. Good job, Max. I’ll see you soon okay?” he grinned at him and finally the other man let him go.

He was extremely tired and his lower back was hurting too much from the last three days. He had tried hard to be focused and very cold towards everything and anything. He had succeeded for the most part; for the most important part that was his job.

He watched the videos that were posted online of Max and smiled to his screen to the countless of memes the fans had created. Qatar had been insane.

“Carlos,” he stopped on his track when he found the Spaniard sitting right in front of his door. “You’re too old for that shit.”

“I’m not drunk, Lando.” the other man immediately replied, raising his head to find him.

Lando swallowed the dryness in his throat and opened the door with a flick of his card. He contemplated on leaving it open for a moment but Carlos had made the choice for him it seemed.

“I can’t. I’m very tired.” he said almost pleadingly to the Spaniard.

“I just wanted to see you. I wanted to see you.” he repeated, standing before the door. He appeared awkward and unsure of his presence there.

“You saw me.”

“Lando.” that strict tone the Spaniard used, made Lando shut his lips and avert his eyes from him.

He took his jacket off and walked to the round table to place his things neatly on the surface. He checked his phone once again and then took his watch off, stretching hand to release some pressure.

Carlos was watching him silently.

“Now that you saw that I’m healthy, can you please leave? I am exhausted.”

“What do you want me to do?” Carlos asked him, still remaining unmoved in place.

“About wh-”

“I’ll tell everything to my parents and tear up the Ferrari contract. I’ll talk to Caco and negotiate.” he rushed out. “I can’t-I won’t lose something real for-for the racist fucks in F1. In-in the world.” he panted then.

Lando stared back.

It was odd. The way he was experiencing this Carlos; desperate and afraid.

To the lack of response, Carlos let out a sharp breath and shook his head in defeat. He then took a step back, tangling his both hand in his hair.

“Joder. No puedo creerlo.” he whispered. “Nosotros debíamos-” he swallowed dryly.

“We were supposed to what?” Lando pushed.

Carlos snapped his head up and rounded his eyes.

“We were supposed to what, Carlos?” Lando took a step forward and towards him.

“How do you understand?” the Spaniard asked him.

Lando took another step and another until he reached the other man. He stood right in front of him, almost feeling his quick breath on his own lips, giving him life.

“Answer me.” he whispered.

“We were supposed to be together until we could -how did you say it?” Carlos stuttered perhaps for the first time in the presence of Lando. “Shout it from the ceilings-”

Lando then grinned widely. He hadn’t meant to, but he hadn’t expected that surely.

“Rooftops, you bellend.” he reached for Carlos’s hand. “Shout it from the rooftops.”

“Si, that.” Carlos squeezed him, as if to extract more braveness for himself. “Tell me please. Tell me what to do first.” he asked exuding pain from those eyes.

“I don’t want to out you to your parents.” he immediately said.

“So? You want me back? You can have me back?” Carlos asked him.

Lando leaned in and placed a kiss on the other man’s lips as an answer. Carlos shoot his chance and pulled him wholly on him, tightening his grip on Lando’s small waist painfully. The latter groaned to the pretty taste of this exact, familiar pain and deepened the kiss, wanting more. So much more.

“Would you do it?” Lando whispered, as Carlos was running his finger down Lando’s bare back.

“I would.” Carlos replied earnestly, grasping instantly what the other man was implying.

“I don’t want you to. I just want respect.” Lando mumbled on the pillow, feeling slumber approaching quickly.