“I’m so tired of this,” you say, pacing across the room, arms crossed, voice sharp. “You shut down every time something doesn’t go your way. And I’m just supposed to sit here and wait until you decide I’m allowed back in?”

Lando throws his cap on the counter, jaw tight. “I’m not shutting you out. I’m just—processing.”

“No, you’re avoiding,” you fire back. “There’s a difference.”

He shakes his head, lips pressed in a hard line. “You think I enjoy feeling like this? Like everything I do is never enough—on the track, with the team, with you?”

You stop in your tracks, heart slamming.

“That’s not what I said.”

“No,” he snaps, “but it’s what you act like. Like I’m some emotional project you’re always trying to fix.”

The air cracks. You stare at him, stunned. “You think I’m trying to fix you?”

He exhales harshly, voice rising. “Sometimes, yeah! You look at me like I’m this fragile mess that needs comforting—like I can’t handle anything on my own.”

You feel the heat rise in your chest. “Because you never let me in, Lando! You bottle it all up until you explode like this!”

And that’s when it hits boiling point.

His voice breaks. “Because I’m scared, okay?! I’m scared if I actually told you what’s in my head, you’d realize I’m not worth staying for.”

Silence slams into the room like a wall.

He stares at you, chest heaving, hands trembling slightly. His voice drops — small, exposed. “I don’t know how to be with someone like you. You’re… steady. You’re strong. And I’m just trying not to fall apart half the time.”

You blink, the anger softening — not gone, just… changed.

“I never asked you to be perfect,” you whisper. “I just wanted you to be honest.”

He looks down, his voice barely audible. “Yeah, well… honest doesn’t always feel safe.”

The tension doesn’t vanish, but it shifts. And as he slumps onto the couch, hands in his hair, you realize this wasn’t a fight to break things apart.

It was a fight to finally bring something real to the surface.