#oneshots

Bad timing, Weasley.

Fred weasley x fem!reader (one-shot??)

(not proofread)

my tiktok account : @shaeliass

This is my first time writing a fanfic too man, last time i wrote one it was about me x my school crush. Dark days.

I feel like such a failure of a writer rn....

I've been putting off a oneshot request for FIVE WHOLE ASS MONTHS.

And I have NO PLOT IDEAS.

In case anyone wants to help: this is what I've got.

Cole Blackstone x Best Friend!Fem!Reader

pairing: ex!taehyung x reader

genre: angst to fluff, forgiveness, reconciliation.

warnings: alcohol mention, swearing, kissing.

summary: two exes play a stubborn game of pretend until he uses a "forgotten hoodie" as an excuse to break the silence—only to catch her hoarding it like her most prized possession, instantly shattering their facades and forcing them to admit they never stopped loving each other.

everyone talks about breakups like they’re something you just have to live through step-by-step—to feel everything you need to feel. but people always focus on the exact moment of the split, not the endless, exhausting months of actually trying to move on.

you were sick of it. tired of everyone telling you to just hate him, to delete his number, to force your brain to block out every single memory of taehyung. but did they really know how it felt? how utterly exhausting it was to sit through advice you couldn't possibly follow, pretending that a human heart has an off switch?

now, you found yourself sitting at a crowded bar with your friends, kaylee and ashlyn. even though it had been three months since you and taehyung called it quits, the weight of his absence still settled heavy against your chest every single day.

"what's with that face?" kaylee asked, leaning in to catch your gaze as it drifted, lost in thought.

your fingers were tracing slow, deliberate circles against the condensation on your glass. not even the alcohol was helping to quiet your overwhelmed brain.

hearing your best friend's voice pulled you back to the present. you blinked a few times to clear the haze, feeling the dull buzz of the drink settling in.

"ah... it's nothing," you paused, looking down at the amber liquid left at the bottom of your glass. "i was just thinking about... things," you murmured with a soft sigh. you closed your eyes for a brief second, but when you opened them, kaylee and ashlyn were already giving you knowing looks. "what?"

ashlyn, who was taking a sip from her drink, set her glass down against the cold surface of the bar's wooden counter. without a word, she reached across the space and gently took your hands in hers.

"are you thinking about him again?"

your breath caught slightly against your ribs. you bit your lip, staring down at your interlaced hands. you hated how painfully easy it was for them to read you.

"it's hard, you know?" you began after a long beat of silence, the noise of the bar fading into the background. "every time i tell myself that i'm finally moving on, he somehow finds a way back into my head."

a long, heavy sigh escaped your lips as the raw truth finally spilled out. maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just the safety of being with people who loved you, but you couldn't keep the walls up anymore.

"i'm just so tired of pretending that i don't care, or that i don't miss him," you confessed softly, your voice cracking slightly. "i just can't stop thinking about him."

kaylee and ashlyn exchanged a heavy, sympathetic look—that familiar, tired glance that showed just how much it hurt them to see you carrying such a heavy pain. they paused, silently agreeing on how to handle the fragile mood without invalidating your pain.

"we know you're having a hard time, which is why we keep dragging you out of the house," kaylee started gently, choosing her words with care. "but maybe... maybe you don't have to force yourself to stop thinking about him. maybe you just have to let those thoughts be there for a while. eventually, they stop hurting and just turn into something soft—something nostalgic."

"kaylee's right," ashlyn added, squeezing your hands reassuringly. "fighting the memories just makes them louder. missing him is just part of the process, too."

maybe they were right. instead of constantly fighting the ghosts of your past with taehyung, maybe you just needed to let the waves hit you until the storm ran out of rain.

you let out a deep breath, shaking your head to clear the heaviness before clicking your tongue.

"okay," you said, slapping your hands lightly against the cool wood of the table. "let's drink. i really need to clear my head tonight."

your best friends offered you warm, relieved smiles, picking up their glasses to join you.

"text us when you reach home!" kaylee shouted from the bar's tall door as you approached the taxi waiting just in front.

the cool breeze of mid-winter hit your face the second you stepped outside, biting at your cheeks and moving your hair every which way. as you slid into the back seat of the car, everything immediately felt different. lonelier. colder.

it was always in quiet, fragile moments like this that you missed him the most. you missed his warm, calloused hands taking yours, the way he would pull you against his chest on freezing nights, seeking your comfort and wrapping you up in his warmth until the chill vanished completely.

even now, you couldn't fully wrap your head around why you two had ended on such awful terms. it had started as a stupid, insignificant disagreement—the kind that should have blown over in a day. but neither of you had been willing to back down. neither of you wanted to "lose." so the argument just escalated, burning through every boundary until it tore everything apart and dragged you straight here, into this empty present.

the bright, blurred city lights flashed against your eyes through the car windows, which were heavy with fog from the freezing air outside. every passing streetlamp made your eyelids feel heavier, your head spinning a little more with every second that ticked by. you had definitely overdone it with the alcohol tonight.

the soft hum of the taxi's tires against the pavement and the low, muffled melody playing from the radio helped settle your stomach a bit, but nothing could quiet the loud, chaotic thoughts racing through your mind.

the moment the taxi pulled up to your building, you quietly thanked the old driver, paid your fare, and made your way toward your apartment. but as you stepped into the main hallway, you noticed that all the overhead lights were completely turned off. the pitch-black corridor felt eerily quiet and tense, the dark shadows stretching out in a way that made your skin prickle. to make matters worse, your phone had died in the cab without you realizing, leaving you without a flashlight to navigate.

the walk up the stairs and down the hall was a genuine challenge, considering you were tipsy and had notoriously terrible night vision. you blindly pressed a hand against the wall, trying to gauge how close you were to your front door.

suddenly, heavy footsteps echoed through the quiet hallway.

they were growing louder, rapidly closing the distance right behind you. trying not to panic, you fumbled in your bag and jammed your keys between your knuckles. if someone was actually trying to mug or attack you, at least you had a improvised weapon—or that was what your alcohol-clouded brain convinced you, anyway.

just as you reached your door, the footsteps were practically on top of you, moving fast. instincts took over, and as a second nature, you took off running down the dark hall—not very fast, given your state, but you gave it your best effort.

"hey, wait!"

a deep, painfully familiar voice cut through the darkness, making you freeze dead in your tracks.

this isn't happening. no, this is not real.

you turned on your heel, your chest heaving as you stared at the tall silhouette standing just a few feet away. was that... taehyung? you could tell instantly by the resonance of his voice and that signature scent of soft wood and vanilla lingering in the air, even if your eyes couldn't fully cut through the pitch blackness.

time felt like it completely stopped. your heart hammered wildly against your ribs, and your throat felt so tight it was hard to swallow. every trace of the alcohol's dizziness instantly vanished, replaced by an overwhelming surge of emotions you couldn't even name. nervousness? panic? absolute, aching longing?

"taehyung?" your voice came out as a broken, barely audible murmur.

after three solid months of absolute radio silence, you had almost managed to convince yourself that you were starting to forget that ridiculously pretty face of his—wait, scratch that, what the hell—that horrendous face of his. but even if you missed him to the point of physical chest pain, you were absolutely, under no circumstances, going to admit it. especially not with him standing right in front of you.

"hey..." he said softly, his deep voice thick with embarrassment and hesitation. you could hear the subtle shift in his breath—it was clearly killing him to stand this close to you and not pull you into a tight, crushing embrace. "um... how have you been doing?" he asked, desperately trying to fill the heavy, awkward silence that swallowed you both.

was he actually serious right now? what in the world was he doing at your apartment door at three in the morning, acting like this was just a casual run-in?

you certainly weren't going to make this easy for him. who did he think he was, turning up unannounced in the middle of the night and acting like everything was fine?

"what are you doing here?" the words bit out of your mouth, harsh and defensive.

taehyung inhaled sharply, the sound echoing in the quiet hall as he tried to gather his words to excuse himself. little bitch, your brain provided bitterly.

"...i actually, um," he swallowed hard, his silhouette shifting in the dark. "i texted you about an hour ago, but... you didn't reply," he muttered. you couldn't see his face clearly, but you knew him well enough to picture him fidgeting with the hem of his jacket or biting his bottom lip out of anxiety.

"my phone died on the way home," you replied dryly, keeping your posture as stiff and unbothered as possible. "is that why you came all the way here? because i didn't reply?" a bitter laugh escaped you as you scoffed. "you could've just waited until morning."

a long, suffocating beat of silence stretched between you in the dark hallway.

"what do you want, anyway?" you demanded, crossing your arms tightly. what could possibly be so urgent that he couldn't wait?

"ah... i see," he said after the long pause, letting out a slow, heavy breath that sounded full of defeat. "i actually... i want my hoodie back. that's why i came."

you froze, the silence falling over you this time.

his hoodie? the oversized grey knit one that you literally wore every single night when the ache of missing him became too much to handle? the one that still smelled like him no matter how many times you aired it out? oh, you were absolutely, 100% not giving that back.

"that's really why you came?" you rolled your eyes dramatically, staring past him at the pitch-black wall. "well, i already got rid of it. my apologies," you lied smoothly. you would give him back every single gift he ever bought you before you handed over that hoodie.

"what?" his tone shifted instantly, sharp and disbelief cracking through his voice. you could practically feel the heat of his rising frustration. "you threw it away? what the fuck, it was my favorite and you know it!"

you hummed softly, taking a sick kind of pleasure in his anger. "yes, i know. that's exactly why i did it," you taunted, loving how easily you could still push his buttons. "what? did anger catch your little feelings?" you scoffed softly. "i'm sorry, I guess."

silence. pure, heavy silence fell over the corridor again.

"what? cat got your tongue?" you poked at him, a sharp smirk hidden by the dark.

"i don't believe you," taehyung said suddenly, his voice dropping an octave as he took a firm, deliberate step closer to you. the sudden shift in proximity made your breath catch. "i'll only believe it if you let me go inside and confirm it myself."

your eyes widened in the gloom. "you want to come inside my apartment?" you gasped, utterly incredulous at his audacity. "so fucking stubborn..." you whispered under your breath. then, tempting fate, you asked, "what if i don't want you to? would you finally just go away?"

please say no. please, please say no.

"actually, no," he clicked his tongue, completely unbothered by your attitude. a beat of silence passed before his tone softened into something suspicious. "are you drunk? i can literally smell the alcohol from here."

"what's it to you?" you snapped, crossing your arms tighter over your chest and tilting your head up defensively. "do you think that when i'm sober i'm gonna let you in? hah, you wish."

"why are you so fucking mouthy?" he retaliated, a slight, sassy bite returning to his deep voice. "you haven't changed at all. still the exact same brat."

you scoffed loudly, offended. "and you're not? look at yourself before you go around saying things like that!" you threw right back at him, turning your body back toward your lock. "if you don't have anything else stupid to say, then i'm going inside."

you cast him one last glare in the dark before reaching for your door handle.

"no, wait—"

before you could turn the key, his fingers wrapped tightly around your wrist. the touch sent an absolute shockwave straight up your arm, completely shattering your composure. another heavy, breathless pause fell over both of you, and you could swear there were literal electric sparks flying in the air between your eyes.

"i... actually," taehyung swallowed hard, his voice suddenly losing all its bite and dropping into something deeply fragile, almost desperate. "can we talk? please?"

he stared intensely down into your eyes, his grip around your wrist tightening—not enough to hurt you, because he would never hurt you, but just enough to keep you grounded right there with him.

"about everything..." he whispered.

you felt your heart completely stop. every single snappy comeback, every bit of petty anger, and every artificial wall you had built up over the last three months evaporated into thin air. all that remained was the weight of his gaze—the exact gaze you had cried yourself to sleep missing for ninety days straight.

"i..." you let out a long, shuddering sigh, finally letting your posture slump as you surrendered. "okay. let me open the door... let's go inside and talk."

the you from a few hours ago would have sworn that the second you reached home, you’d be a crying mess alone in your bed, hugging taehyung's hoodie for comfort. but fate definitely had a very different path laid out for you tonight.

how could you even begin to explain that right now you were crying—just as you thought you would be—but with one massive difference? you weren't alone.

how did you end up breaking down on taehyung's chest—your ex's chest—in the absolute middle of the night? pouring all your hot, heavy tears onto his soft shirt while he just let you, wrapped completely around you like a thick, warm blanket in the dead of a freezing winter?

you felt awful, honestly. after all, you were still tipsy, your head spinning lazily and a dull ache sitting in your stomach from the alcohol. but on top of the physical mess, you had been holding back an entire ocean of tears ever since that heavy conversation with your friends at the bar. the moment taehyung had pulled you inside and sat down next to you on the couch, the fragile dam inside you had simply shattered.

after a few long minutes, the heavy sobbing finally started to subside. your ragged breathing slowly decreased its velocity, settling into a quiet, rhythmic rise and fall against his chest. and taehyung noticed immediately. of course he did—he always, always noticed every little shift in you.

his long fingers moved to the back of your head, slowly and tenderly caressing your hair, while his other hand rested firmly at your waist, tracing slow, comforting circles against your skin through your clothes.

"are you feeling better?" he asked softly, his low voice vibrating right through his chest and into your cheek as he slightly pulled you closer.

if anyone were to ask taehyung what he had missed the most over these grueling three months, he would say moments like this without having to think twice.

you let out a low, muffled hum in agreement, nuzzling your face deeper into the warm crook of his neck. you had just missed him so much it felt like a physical ache in your ribs.

a long, peaceful beat of silence passed between you. it wasn't awkward in the slightest—in fact, it was the complete opposite. it was quiet, heavy with unspoken relief, and comfortable in a way only the two of you could ever be.

taehyung let out a soft, trembling sigh—a sound filled with overwhelming longing, relief, and the pure happiness of having you back in his arms.

"i'm really sorry for how we ended things," he started quietly, taking a deep, steadying breath. "i didn't mean to be so stubborn and full of myself. i just... i don't know what happened to me in that moment. i was just really pissed off and stupid," he admitted softly, a gentle, fond smile creeping onto his face as he looked down at how you were practically disappearing into his chest.

you felt the familiar, painful lump in your throat return, fresh tears threatening to spill over your eyelashes. everything was just so overwhelming, so raw and intense right now. your breath became uneven all over again.

"it's okay... i'm sorry too," you managed to choke out, your voice breaking slightly against his skin. "i shouldn't have said those harsh things back then. you know i didn't really mean any of it."

taehyung shifted his weight, tilting his head back so he could get a clear look at your tear-stained face. a blooming, golden warmth flushed straight through his system.

"i understand," he murmured softly. "i didn't mean anything i said either."

he reached up, his large, warm hand carefully cupping your cheek so you had no choice but to look at him. the sudden, direct contact of his palm against your flushed skin sent a sharp wave of electricity straight down your spine.

for a few breathless seconds, your eyes locked in the dim light of the apartment. all your mixed emotions, chaotic thoughts, and racing heartbeats seemed to synchronize in the space between your faces.

taehyung lowered his gaze briefly down to your lips, his body leaning in just an inch closer. then he looked back up into your eyes, silently and tenderly asking for your permission.

you gave a small, barely visible nod, your own eyes fluttering down to his lips before closing completely—closing both your eyes and the last bit of agonizing distance left between you.

the exact moment you felt his soft, familiar lips touch yours, fresh tears spilled over your cheeks. they weren't tears of sadness or regret this time; it was pure, unadulterated nostalgia and relief. the kiss was impossibly sweet, unhurried, slow, and deliberate—a quiet reunion of two people who had been starving for each other.

taehyung's hand gently slid from your cheek to the back of your head, pulling you in deeper, while your hands reached blindly for his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt like a anchor.

the kiss lingered for a few more magical seconds before taehyung was the first to pull back just a fraction. he rested his forehead against yours, smiling sweetly into the dark as his hands traveled down to find yours, lacing your fingers together.

"i missed you so much i can't even explain it," he admitted softly, his voice thick with emotion as he pulled you back into a tight, protective hug. "i ached for you. literally."

a soft, genuine smile finally bloomed across your face.

"i missed you too, tata," you whispered back, using the old, cherished nickname you had given him when you first started dating years ago.

taehyung's breath hitched, a bright smile lighting up his face the second he heard that name fall from your lips. he leaned back against the plush cushions of the couch, dragging you right along with him until you were completely tangled together.

time just melted away as the two of you stayed wrapped in each other's arms, completely swallowed by the warmth of the apartment and each other's presence.

"...you know," you started after a long while, your voice low and sweet against his neck. "i actually didn't throw your hoodie away. i keep it right by my bed and wear it whenever i miss you," you admitted softly, instantly burying your burning face into his neck as embarrassment flushed over you.

taehyung just let out a quiet, chest-rumbling laugh, his arms tightening around your waist. "i knew it. you would never throw it away, even if you hated me the most."

why did he have to know you so painfully well?

"i love you," he confessed gently, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head before tilting his chin to look down at you.

you smiled against the warm skin of his neck, your fingers gripping his shirt a little tighter.

"i love you too," you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the exact sweet spot on his neck.

Part 2

Tuesday

By Tuesday morning, I was beginning to question every decision that had led me to this moment. Mostly because Lucy had apparently decided that packing for a trip to Hungary required enough clothes to survive a small natural disaster.

“You don't need six pairs of shoes,” I told her as I watched her struggle to close her suitcase.

“Yes, I do.”

“For what?”

“Options.”

“Lucy, we're going for three days.”

“Exactly. Three days. I need options.”

I laughed, shaking my head as I zipped up my own suitcase.

Mine was considerably smaller. For the first time in a long time, I actually felt excited about something. There was still a small part of me that felt guilty. The trip had been planned for Michael. Every time I looked at the booking confirmation, I remembered why I had bought it in the first place. His birthday. His favorite sport. His favorite driver. But that wasn't what this trip was anymore. This time, it was for me. The journey itself passed faster than I expected. Lucy talked almost the entire way, jumping between what we wanted to see in Budapest, what food we had to try, and how many pictures she was going to take.

By the time we arrived, I was exhausted.

But the second we stepped outside, I forgot about being tired.

Budapest was beautiful.

The city felt alive.

The streets were busy, people walking in every direction, cars passing by, the sounds of conversations surrounding us. The buildings looked like something out of a movie, and I found myself staring at everything like a tourist.

“Okay,” Lucy said, looking at me. “You're smiling.”

“I am not.” “You absolutely are.

I rolled my eyes.

“Come on. Let's find the hotel before you start taking pictures of every building.”

“No promises.” By the time we checked in and dropped our bags off, the sun was already beginning to set. Lucy looked at me.

“We're not staying in the hotel, are we?” I smiled.

“Definitely not.”

We wandered through the streets without much of a plan, stopping whenever something caught our attention. We found a little café tucked away on a side street and sat outside, drinking coffee while watching people pass by.

Later, we walked along the Danube. The lights reflected across the water, and for a moment, everything felt strangely peaceful.

I leaned against the railing, looking across the river.

“I think I needed this,” I admitted quietly.

Lucy bumped her shoulder against mine.

“I know.”

I smiled.

Maybe leaving home had been exactly what I needed.

Maybe I was finally starting to move on.

---

Wednesday

I woke up the next morning feeling like I had actually slept for the first time in months. Which, unfortunately, lasted approximately five minutes.

“GET UP!” I groaned and pulled the blanket over my head.

“Lucy…”

“We have things to do!”

“What time is it?”

“Early.”

“That doesn't answer my question.”

“It's eight.”

I slowly lifted my head.

“You woke me up at eight?”

“Yes.”

“That's criminal.” She laughed.

After breakfast, we spent the entire day exploring Budapest. We visited Buda Castle, wandered through the old streets, and stopped far too many times because Lucy wanted pictures. At one point, she handed me her phone.

“Take a picture of me.”

“Why?”

“Because I'm standing in front of a beautiful building.”

“You're always standing in front of beautiful buildings.”

“Exactly. So take the picture.”

I laughed and took about twenty.

Later, we crossed the Chain Bridge and stopped to admire the view.

I pulled my phone out and took a picture of the river.

For a second, I caught my own reflection in the screen.

I looked different.

Not completely healed.

Not magically happy. But different. There was a little more light in my eyes.

A little less sadness. And maybe, for the first time, I wasn't thinking about Michael. Not even for a second.

We eventually found a small restaurant for dinner, where Lucy insisted we try traditional Hungarian food. I wasn't entirely convinced when the plate arrived.

“This looks suspicious,” I whispered. Lucy laughed. “Just eat.” I did.

And it was actually amazing.

By the time we left the restaurant, the sky had turned dark.

We walked through the city again, laughing about absolutely nothing.

Tomorrow was Thursday.

Tomorrow was the first day of the Formula 1 weekend.

And suddenly, I couldn't wait.

The trip that had once been planned for Michael's birthday no longer felt like something I'd lost. It felt like something I'd been given.

A chance to start over.

I just didn't know yet that Budapest had something or someone waiting for me that would change everything.

Thursday

Thursday morning felt different.

Maybe it was because I knew what was waiting for us.

Formula 1.

The words still felt strange in my head.

A few months ago, I had bought these tickets because I wanted to give Michael the perfect birthday. I had imagined the two of us walking through the paddock together, listening to him talk excitedly about every driver, every team, every little detail I barely understood.

Now I was standing in front of the mirror, trying to decide whether I looked like someone who belonged at a Formula 1 weekend.

“Stop staring at yourself.”

I turned around.

Lucy was standing in the doorway, already dressed.

“I don't know what to wear.”

“You're wearing jeans and a shirt.”

“I know.”

“Then we're done here.”

I looked down at myself.

“You don't think it's boring?”

“No. You're going to a racetrack, not a fashion show.”

She grabbed her bag.

“And if you spend another ten minutes changing, I'll leave without you.”

“You wouldn't.”

“I absolutely would.”

I laughed.

“Fine. Let's go.”

---

The atmosphere changed the second we arrived.

There were people everywhere.

Fans wearing team shirts, caps, jackets, carrying flags and cameras. Some had traveled from different countries just to be there.

Music was playing somewhere in the distance, and the entire area seemed to buzz with excitement.

I looked around, completely overwhelmed.

“Oh my God.”

Lucy grinned.

“I know.”

“No, seriously.”

“I know.”

“This is actually happening.”

She hooked her arm through mine.

“Come on.”

The fan zone was already crowded.

There were team displays, merchandise stands, food stalls and activities everywhere we looked. Fans were taking pictures, talking excitedly and comparing driver predictions.

I caught myself smiling.

It was impossible not to.

For the first time, I understood why Michael had loved this so much.

There was something about the atmosphere.

The noise.

The anticipation.

Everyone seemed to share the same obsession, even if they supported different teams.

We wandered from one area to another, stopping whenever something caught our attention.

Lucy dragged me toward a simulator.

“You're doing it.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I've never driven an F1 car.”

“Neither have I.”

“That doesn't make me feel better.”

Five minutes later, I was sitting in the simulator while Lucy filmed me.

“Don't crash!” she shouted.

“I'M TRYING!”

I managed to finish the lap without completely embarrassing myself.

Lucy looked at the screen.

“You're terrible.”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

We laughed.

Later, we found ourselves near a small stage where some of the drivers were scheduled to appear.

The crowd immediately started gathering.

I felt my heart beating faster.

Then the first driver walked out.

The reaction was almost deafening.

People screamed, phones went into the air, and cameras started flashing.

I couldn't stop smiling.

It was surreal seeing people I had only ever seen on television standing right there.

Real people.

Not characters on a screen.

Drivers.

Championship contenders.

People who spent their weekends doing something most of us could only dream about.

One by one, they came through.

Some stopped to wave.

Some signed things.

Others spoke briefly with fans.

Lucy and I moved through the crowd, trying to get a better view.

At some point, I realized I was actually having fun.

Not pretending.

Not trying to forget Michael.

Just having fun.

And that felt important.

---

Later that afternoon, we made our way toward the paddock.

My excitement immediately turned into nervousness.

“This is insane,” I whispered.

Lucy looked at me.

“You've said that approximately thirty-seven times today.”

“Because it keeps being true.”

We walked along the paddock, taking everything in.

Team personnel hurried from one place to another.

Engineers talked amongst themselves.

People carried equipment through the narrow walkways.

Every few seconds, someone recognizable appeared.

I saw drivers walking past with their teams.

I saw mechanics preparing equipment.

I saw cameras everywhere.

I suddenly felt like I had stepped inside the television screen.

Lucy nudged me.

“Look.”

I turned.

A driver was walking past.

I immediately recognized him.

“Oh my God.”

“Yep.”

I watched him disappear into one of the team areas.

My heart was racing.

This was ridiculous.

I wasn't even a huge Formula 1 fan.

Not like Michael had been.

But standing there made everything feel real.

The trip.

The breakup.

The fact that I was here without him.

I took a deep breath.

Then I saw him.

Lando Norris.

For a second, I didn't move.

He was walking further down the paddock, surrounded by a few members of his team.

I knew immediately that it was him.

Of course I did.

I'd seen his face more times than I could count because of Michael.

Michael had talked about him constantly.

Every race.

Every qualifying session.

Every interview.

Every little thing Lando did.

*Lando this.*

*Lando that.*

I almost laughed at the thought.

Lucy followed my gaze.

“Oh.”

“What?”

“That's him.”

“I know.”

She looked at me.

“You should get an autograph.”

I laughed nervously.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“Because there are probably hundreds of people trying to do the same thing.”

“So?”

“So I'm not doing that.”

Lucy crossed her arms.

“You literally bought this trip for your ex-boyfriend.”

“Yes.”

“You came all the way to Hungary.”

“Yes.”

“You've spent the entire day having fun.”

“Yes.”

“And now you're standing ten meters away from his favorite driver.”

I looked at her.

She smiled.

“Maybe you should get an autograph.”

I looked back toward Lando.

Something about it made sense.

Maybe it was stupid.

Maybe it was sentimental.

Maybe I just wanted something to prove that this trip had actually happened.

Something that would make all of this real.

I sighed.

“Fine.”

Lucy smiled triumphantly.

“I knew it.”

“But if this is embarrassing, I'm blaming you.”

“Deal.”

We found the end of the line.

There were already quite a few people waiting.

I stood there, suddenly feeling much more nervous than I had expected.

What was I even supposed to say?

*Hi, I'm a huge fan?*

That would be a lie.

*My ex-boyfriend loves you?*

Absolutely not.

*Can you sign this because I bought these tickets for my ex and now I'm here instead?*

Definitely not.

I groaned quietly.

Lucy laughed.

“Relax.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“You're just getting an autograph.”

“I know.”

“You're acting like you're about to meet the Queen.”

I gave her a look.

The line slowly moved forward.

One person.

Then another.

Then another.

My hands became sweaty.

I almost considered leaving.

But then I reminded myself why I had gotten in line.

This wasn't about Michael anymore.

It was about me.

I wanted to remember this day.

I wanted to have something from the trip that wasn't connected to the painful memories.

Eventually, there were only two people ahead of me.

My heart started pounding.

“Oh God.”

Lucy leaned closer.

“Breathe.”

“I am breathing.”

“Not properly.”

The person in front of me stepped forward.

Then another.

And suddenly it was my turn.

I walked toward him.

Lando looked up.

For a second, our eyes met.

My brain completely stopped working.

He smiled politely.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Great.

Brilliant.

One word.

I mentally cursed myself.

He glanced at the item I was holding.

“What would you like me to sign?”

I handed it to him.

“This, please.”

He took it and signed his name.

I watched his hand move across the paper, trying desperately to think of something normal to say.

Anything.

“You're... um... you're Michael's favorite.”

The words escaped before I could stop them.

Lando looked up.

I immediately regretted it.

“Sorry.”

He smiled slightly.

“Michael?”

“My ex-boyfriend.”

Why did I say that?

Why?

Lando raised his eyebrows, clearly amused.

“Right.”

I felt my face heat up.

“He was a huge fan of yours,” I explained quickly. “Like... really huge.”

Lando handed the signed item back to me.

“Well, hopefully he appreciates it.”

I looked at the autograph.

Then back at him.

“He probably would.”

There was a tiny pause.

Then Lando smiled.

“Well, I hope you do too.”

I looked at him.

And for some reason, that simple sentence hit me harder than it should have.

I smiled.

“I think I will.”

“Good.”

Someone behind me shifted impatiently, reminding me that there were still people waiting.

I stepped aside.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

I walked away.

The second I reached Lucy, she grabbed my arm.

“You talked to him.”

I stared at her.

“I did.”

“You actually talked to him.”

“I don't know what happened.”

She looked at the autograph.

Then at me.

“You're blushing.”

“I am not.”

“You absolutely are.”

I looked back over my shoulder.

Lando was already talking to the next fan.

I turned away quickly.

“Let's go.”

Lucy laughed as we walked away.

But I couldn't stop smiling.

It had only been a few seconds.

A few words.

Nothing important.

Nothing that should have mattered.

And yet, somehow, that tiny interaction made the entire day feel even more real.

I looked down at the autograph in my hand.

For months, I had thought this trip would always belong to Michael.

His birthday.

His favorite sport.

His favorite driver.

His dream weekend.

But standing there in the middle of the paddock, surrounded by thousands of people, I realized something.

Maybe I hadn't lost everything when I lost him.

Maybe I had just been given the chance to discover what was still waiting for me.

I smiled and slipped the autograph carefully into my bag.

I had no idea that I would think about those few seconds again.

Friday

Friday had been surprisingly easy.

Maybe it was because I had Lucy with me.

We'd spent most of the day wandering around Budapest, getting food, taking pictures, people-watching and, of course, spending way too much time in the F1 fan zone.

Now we were standing in front of one of the merchandise stalls, surrounded by caps, flags and shirts in every color imaginable.

Lucy picked up a shirt and held it against herself.

“What do you think?”

I looked at it for a second.

“Absolutely not.”

“Rude.”

“It looks like something my dad would wear.”

Lucy gasped dramatically before putting it back.

We moved to the next stand, and I was looking through a few shirts when Lucy suddenly stopped.

“Wait.”

I turned around.

She was holding up a papaya-orange McLaren shirt.

I immediately started laughing.

“No.”

“You should get it.”

“Lucy.”

“Get the Lando shirt.”

“I am not getting a Lando shirt.”

“You literally told me yesterday that he was your favorite driver.”

“I said he was my favorite driver. That's different.”

Lucy raised an eyebrow.

“Is it?”

“Yes.”

She held the shirt out to me.

“Come on. Get it.”

I shook my head, laughing.

“You're ridiculous.”

“And you're scared.”

“I am not scared.”

“Then buy the shirt.”

I stared at her for a moment before finally snatching it out of her hands.

“Fine.”

Lucy immediately grinned.

“I knew it.”

“Don't make it weird.”

“Too late.”

We spent the rest of the afternoon together, and before I knew it, the sun was starting to disappear behind the buildings. The fan zone was slowly getting quieter, and we decided it was probably time to leave.

I slipped my phone into my bag as we walked toward the exit.

“You know,” Lucy said, “I still think you should've gotten the cap too.”

“I already bought the shirt.”

“Exactly. Commit to the bit.”

I laughed.

Neither of us noticed the group of people walking a few meters behind us.

Not until I heard a familiar voice.

"“Wait.”"you again, are you stalking me?"

I stopped.

Something about the voice made me turn around.

And there he was.

Lando.

He was walking toward the exit with a few people from the team, dressed casually, his hands tucked into his pockets. He looked tired, like he'd finally finished with the day.

Then his eyes met mine.

He slowed down.

For a second, neither of us said anything.

“Me?”

A small smile appeared on his face.

“Yeah.”

I felt Lucy look at me.

“Oh,” she whispered beside me.

I ignored her.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

His eyes dropped briefly to the shirt I was holding.

The papaya-orange one.

He raised an eyebrow.

“You actually bought it?”

I looked down at it and laughed awkwardly.

“I”

“She was forced,” Lucy interrupted.

I turned toward her.

“Lucy.”

“What? I'm protecting your dignity.”

Lando laughed.

“I see.”

I shook my head, smiling despite myself.

“I didn't know you were still here.”

“I'm leaving now.”

“Same.”

For a second, neither of us moved.

Then he nodded toward the shirt.

“Good choice.”

I looked at him.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

His smile grew slightly.

“Although I might be biased.”

I laughed, and for a moment, I completely forgot about everything else.

Forgot about my ex.

Forgot about the awkwardness of yesterday.

Part 1

Being in a relationship was hard.

Sometimes you fought. Sometimes you laughed together until your stomach hurt. And sometimes, there came a point when you realized that things would never go back to the way they used to be.

My boyfriend, Michael, had always tried to keep our relationship as quiet and uncomplicated as possible. He didn’t like talking too much, didn’t like arguing, and avoided unnecessary drama whenever he could.

Michael worked in the IT department of a large company. I never really asked many questions about his job. Maybe because I trusted him. Or maybe because, deep down, I didn’t want to know too much. As for me, I spent most of my days at home. Officially, I worked as an online assistant from my home office. But whenever I had free time, I wrote. Or, more accurately, I tried to write.

Books had always been my escape. Creating characters, building worlds, giving people stories that didn’t belong to me it was something I loved.

Our lives weren’t perfect. But for a while, I thought we were happy.

It started with a what seemed to be a normal Tuesday.

The argument started over something stupid. At least, that was what Michael called it.

“You’re always doing this,” he said, his voice cold as he stood across from me. “You’re always asking where I am, who I’m talking to, what I’m doing.”

“Because you never tell me anything!” I shot back. “I’m your girlfriend, Michael. I’m allowed to want to know what’s going on in your life.” He let out a bitter laugh. “There it is again.”

“What?”

“That neediness.”

I stared at him, feeling my chest tighten.

“I’m not needy. I just want you to actually talk to me.”

My eyes burned, but I refused to look away.

“I only wanted you to care.”

“I did care.”

“Did?”

He was silent for a moment. Then he sighed. “You know what? Maybe this just isn't working anymore.”

My heart dropped.

“What are you saying?” “I’m saying we’re done.”

The room suddenly felt unbearably quiet.

I swallowed hard. “Michael…”

“No. Don’t.” His expression hardened. “Please don't start crying. I can't deal with this right now.”

I felt something inside me crack.

“You're the one breaking up with me, and somehow I'm the problem?”

“You always make everything about you.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Neither is being with you.”

I stared at him, tears finally slipping down my cheeks.

He looked at me for a second before saying the words that would stay with me long after he was gone.

“Honestly? Nobody is ever going to want you if you keep acting like this.”

I froze.

“You're clingy,” he continued. “And you're way too shy for your own good. You barely talk to anyone, you hide behind your books all day, and you expect someone to put up with all of that?” My lips trembled.

“I loved you.” He looked away. “Maybe you should learn to live without someone.”

Then he walked out.

And for the first time, I wondered if maybe he had been right about everything. Maybe I really was too much. Maybe nobody would ever want me.

2 Months later….

Spending my days at home, crying, eating, and drowning in self-pity had become my new routine.

But my best friend, Lucy, refused to let me stay that way. She tried to help me through it. Tried to make me forget.

Forget that he had found someone new barely a week after we broke up. Forget the words he had thrown at me. And, most of all, forget the emptiness I had felt ever since he walked out of my life. It wasn't easy.

But slowly, things started to get better.

I laughed sometimes. Real, genuine laughs that surprised even me. I started leaving the house more often, even if it was only to grab coffee with Lucy or go for a walk. And little by little, I learned to trust myself again. Not completely.

Not yet. But enough to get by.

That afternoon, I sat down at my desk and turned on my computer, ready to spend another quiet evening working from home.

As I logged in, a notification popped up on my screen.

I frowned.

It looked like some kind of booking confirmation.

I couldn't remember booking anything.

Curious, I clicked on it.

My heart nearly stopped.

It was a booking confirmation for the Hungarian Grand Prix.

And then it hit me like a truck.

I had booked those tickets months ago as a surprise getaway for Michael's birthday.

I stared at the confirmation on my screen, my stomach twisting.

What was I supposed to do now?

The tickets were already paid for. The hotel was booked. The trip was supposed to be a romantic birthday surprise.

And now I was single.

I watched F1 with my father from time to time, so I knew enough to understand what I was looking at. But going to a Grand Prix alone?

That thought didn't even cross my mind.

Not until I picked up my phone and texted Lucy.

*I have a problem.*

Her reply came almost immediately.

*What happened?*

I sent her a screenshot of the booking confirmation.

There was a pause.

Then my phone started ringing. I barely had time to answer before Lucy's scream nearly blew out my eardrum.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” I pulled the phone away from my ear. “Lucy—”

“WE'RE GOING TO HUNGARY!”

“What?”

“You heard me! We're going to the Hungarian Grand Prix!”

“Lucy, I can't just—”

“Yes, you can.”

“No buts. You need this.”

“I haven't even said yes!”

“You don't have to. I'm saying yes for both of us.”

“You're insane.”

“Maybe. But I'm also your best friend, and I'm not letting you sit at home crying over Michael while we have Formula 1 tickets sitting in front of us.”

I looked back at the confirmation on my screen.

For the first time in months, something unfamiliar stirred inside me.

Excitement.

Maybe this wasn't supposed to be Michael's birthday trip anymore.

Maybe it could be mine.

And just like that, Lucy had apparently decided that we were packing for Hungary on Tuesday.

“Isn't that exciting?” she asked.

I smiled.