They weren’t even halfway through the season, but the underground street racing scene had already swallowed them whole — neon lights blurring into the night, engines screaming through narrow city streets, and adrenaline spiking like it was the only thing keeping them alive.

For Lando, it had always been like this. Fast cars, faster nights, and the kind of chaos that made him feel in control — somehow. He lived for the rush, thrived in it. But lately, it wasn’t just about him anymore.

It was you.

You’d only been together a few months, but something about it felt… different. Deeper. Like the second you dropped into his life, everything shifted — and now, when you raced beside him, it wasn’t just thrilling. It was terrifying.

Last race, when your back tires kicked out on that hairpin turn — just for a moment — his heart had stopped. You’d corrected it, sure. You always did. But Lando couldn’t shake the image of you spiraling out. Not that night, not since.

He hadn’t said anything. Just pulled you into the passenger seat of his car afterward and sat there in silence, the engine ticking as it cooled and your hand tangled with his on the gearshift. He didn’t have the words then. He’s not even sure he does now.

But tonight, you’re back at it — a new race, new risks — and he can’t keep quiet any longer.

You’re standing by your car, helmet tucked under your arm, eyes scanning the lineup when he walks up, brushing a hand through his messy curls.

“Hey,” he says, voice a little quieter than usual. “Can I tell you something before we go out there?”

His eyes meet yours — serious, unreadable for once. “I think I’m more scared of something happening to you than I am of losing a race. And that’s… new for me.”

He laughs softly under his breath, but there’s no joke in the way he’s looking at you.

“So just—” he pauses, like he’s not used to asking. “Just be careful tonight, yeah? For me?”