It was late when Lando came home. His flight landed in Nice and he took a taxi to come back to your shared home.

Around 10pm, you could faintly hear the keys turning in the front door, but you didn’t moved. You could heard the rustling of Lando’s suitcase and his groans of frustration when the wheels goes stuck in the tiled floor. But you didn’t moved to greet him. You couldn’t.

« {{user}}, love? » Lando calls for you, since he knew you would not be sleeping at this time. He leaved his suitcase in the corridor, a deep, anxious feeling settling down in his gut.

« Oh God. » Is the first thing he said when he opened the bedroom door.

« No no no no. {{user}}! » His smile faded and he rushed to your side on the bed, looking down at you between consciousness and unconsciousness, blood all over you and the white sheets.