photograph / ln4

fourteen

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half a heart by one direction
1:08 ━━━━⬤─────── 03:07

LANDO FOUND himself right back where he had started. For the first time in his life, he detested Monaco. He saw her in every street, in the gardens where it had all began, in the café where he now came every day hoping to run into her. Everywhere he looked, he saw the chocolate brown of her hair, or the maroon-painted lips he loved to kiss. Her scent even lingered on the hoodie he was currently wearing, his favourite.

He would've laughed at himself if it didn't feel like she had ripped half of his heart out and trampled on it. He had screwed up majorly, and he was well aware of it. That didn't mean that he wasn't feeling sorry for himself at the same time, though.

He had really tried to get her out of his head, but he felt lost without her. All the colours in the streets reminded him of her, and so he almost found himself wishing for a world coloured in greyscale.

Walking down the steps near the Haagen-Dazs shop, he was once again hit by a trail of memories. He sighed, wishing they could forget everything that had been said yesterday. It had split the both of them in two, and he really wished they could talk it through over lunch. Maybe one of the places right here on the harbour.

It took everything in him not to show up at her door, because he'd promised himself to give her space at least until after Imola. She said she'd be leaving on the Tuesday, so he simply had to risk it and hope she'd still be there when he came back.

There had been radio silence from her end. He'd been stalking her Instagram for a while, and although it was even harder to do it now, he resisted clicking the follow button. The page was quiet, and the comments on her recent St Tropez post had been limited. That didn't stop his fan base, though—he saw the comments they'd posted under her karting post.

He walked and walked and walked, until he came across one of his favourite places on the edge of the sea, where wooden planks were built over the water, and a sort of dam had been created under it so that the water didn't splash dangerously hard against where people would swim. It meant that once you sat down, you would be surrounded by echoing ocean waves.

Lando threw himself down and leaned back, looking up at the blue sky that now seemed a lot less vibrant than it had back in St Tropez. Grey clouds were coming in from the seaside, and he was grateful he'd  worn a hoodie as the wind started to pick up.

His flight to London was in a couple of hours, and yet he could only focus on Eleanor. He knew he was meant to be thinking about work, about the interviews he was scheduled to give later today. And yet she consumed his thoughts, and the ache of losing her because of two little white lies made him want to  throw himself into the chamber behind him until he succumbed to the ocean waves.