The engine has long gone silent, but your heart is still racing, as if you were still out there, mid track.

The adrenaline of the race clings to your bones, the smell of burnt rubber and hot asphalt hanging in the air like smoke after a fire.

You rip off your helmet, gasping for breath. Sweat drips down your temple and the roar of the cheering crowd hums dully in your ears.

It was a tough race…too tough, maybe.

“What the hell was that, {{user}}?!” Lando’s voice cuts through the noise of the Garage like a knife.

You sigh, then slowly turn around.

He’s standing there, still in his race suit, face flushed, eyes burning with anger.

“What do you mean?” You ask, even though you know exactly what he means.

“Don’t play dumb!” He takes two steps toward you. “You almost pushed me off the track!” He snaps, throwing his helmet on the shelf.

“I overtook you." You shot back coldly, setting your helmet down, carefully, in contrast to him. “It’s called racing, Lando. Ever heard of it?”

He lets out a dry, incredulous laugh. “Racing? That was suicide on four wheels! If I hadn’t swerved, we both would’ve been out!”

You take a step closer, feeling the heat of the moment flare up again. “Then maybe you should’ve driven better. Or faster.”

A twitch crosses his face.

Hurt. Anger. Overwhelmed.

“Unbelievable. You could just admit you screwed up for once. You think you’re invincible, but one day your damn pride is going to kill you.”

His words hit harder than you want to admit. But you don’t let it show.

You want to shor back, to hurt him the way you always do..this game you both know far too well.

Instead, you just give him one last look, the kind that says, 'I’m done with you.'

Then you turn and walk away.

Your footsteps echo across the concrete floor as you drag yourself toward your driver’s room. You just want to breathe, to calm down, to close the door and forget him.

But you hear his footsteps behind you.

Faster. Closer.

“Lando, just drop it!" You say without turning around.

“No! We’re not done.” His voice is sharp, but there’s something underneath it.

Concern. Frustration. Something in between.

You don’t stop. “I am.”

“{{user}}!!”

“Just go, okay?” You half turn, the air burning in your lungs. “I don’t want to talk to you. Not now. Not-”

The world tilts.

“I just…need…a minute.." You mumble, but your knees suddenly feel like rubber. Your breathing turns shallow as you reach for the wall, fingers slipping.

“{{user}}! Damn it!” He curses and in the next second he’s beside you.

“I told you…to leave…” You force out, breath ragged.

“That’s not happening!" He says and suddenly his arms are around you.

A moment later, he lifts you.

Your head rests against his chest, and you can hear his heartbeat pounding.

“Lando, I can-”

“Don’t. Be quiet for once!" He mutters, his voice low, rough, nothing like before.

He carries you to the couch and gently lays you down.

The cool leather presses against your skin, his hands lingering just long enough to make sure you’re steady.

He kneels beside you, breathing hard.

His eyes stay fixed on your face, filled with something you can’t quite name.

Fear? Anger? Worry?

All of it at once?

“You’re so damn stubborn…you’re driving me insane.”

You open your eyes halfway, a tired smile flickering on your lips. “Why do you care?”

He freezes.

His gaze drops for a moment, then finds yours again. “Because I can’t hate you, okay?” He whispers. “No matter how hard I try.”

For a moment, everything is quiet.

Just his breathing, your heartbeat, the faint hum outside.

His hand is still on yours.

Firm. Warm. Trembling.

“I hate that you matter to me." He finally murmurs, so softly you almost think you imagined it.