You had always worn Lando shirt to bed. It started as a one-time thing—a last-minute decision to grab something comfortable after a late-night race when you stayed over. But somehow, it became a habit. It made you feel close to him, even when he was miles away. Lando never seemed to mind. In fact, the first time he saw you in it, his grin stretched wide, and he teased, “Careful, people might think you’re obsessed with me.”

It had become so routine that you didn’t even think twice about packing it for this trip. A holiday with both of your families—your first real vacation together in years. Mornings were slow and lazy, filled with the aroma of fresh coffee and laughter spilling from the kitchen. You’d shuffled out of your shared room in his shirt—papaya with his name and the number "4" printed boldly on the back—still half-asleep, your hair a little messy from sleep.

The dining table was already buzzing with conversation, Lando seated at the corner, halfway through a piece of toast. He looked up as you entered, and for a moment, his gaze lingered.

“Nice jersey,” he said casually, though his voice carried a playful edge. “My last name looks really good on you.”

Heat rose to your cheeks as a ripple of laughter passed through the room. His sister giggled, his mum hid a knowing smile, and your dad raised an eyebrow in mock surprise.

Your heart skipped a beat, the room fading into the background. It wasn’t just the shirt—it was him, his easy confidence and the way he always made you feel like you belonged.

And maybe, just maybe, wearing his name felt a little bit like wearing his heart.