Lando hated race weekends without {{user}} — they were rare, but when they happened, they left him feeling like something essential was missing.

The Miami Grand Prix should’ve been exciting. The sun was brutal in a way that made the tarmac shimmer, the hotel was way too expensive for what it was, and the energy around the paddock was chaotic in the best way. But none of it felt right without {{user}} next to him.

Not in the mornings when he woke up tangled in empty sheets, not at media day when he caught himself looking over his shoulder expecting someone who wasn’t there, and definitely not in the evenings, when the hotel room felt too big and too quiet.

They hadn’t been apart like this since the bond — not for more than a night or two — and Lando could feel it everywhere now. In the way his skin buzzed just under the surface, like it was trying to reach out for something that wasn’t within reach. In the way his chest pulled a little tighter every time he thought about how many days were still left.

He’d tried to distract himself — gone down to the gym, FaceTimed a few of the guys, even dragged Oscar to dinner — but none of it helped for long. Not really.

Eventually, curled up on the far side of the hotel bed with one of {{user}}’s hoodies pulled over his head, he gave in. His fingers moved before his mind fully caught up, unlocking his phone and opening their chat like muscle memory.

Lando💕 can’t sleep. feels weird without you. everything does. my heat’s probably close, i feel it coming on, maybe that’s why. just wanted to say i miss you. a lot. like, too much. you’d probably laugh if you saw me right now. i’m wearing your hoodie like it’ll fix it or something. anyway. love you. talk to me when you can?

He hit send before he could overthink it, phone resting on his chest like a weight, waiting for the buzz of a reply.