DNF - A Formula 1 Story (Lando Norris)

Chapter 6

"Feels like we buried alive something that never died." - Conan Gray

Lando

Over the course of the past few weeks I've been a moody asshole. Honestly, I've been a moody asshole ever since Bianca left me in January but it's only gotten worse after what I recently did. I'm not sure what motivated me to text her what I did about that night in Glamis, but I was having a low moment and I missed her. I haven't stopped thinking about her for months and it finally boiled over and I needed her to know I was thinking of her and of that night when everything felt too perfect that it terrified me.

Of course I'm sure she already knew I was thinking of her because of everything I've been posting on my private twitter account lately. It's now basically a page for me to grovel on because all I ever post is either about her or for her. I'm desperate for her to let me explain myself, to let me show her how much I love her and how much I regret what I did but she seems to always turn it against me and I can't help but take it because I deserve it fully.

When I found out what I'm saved as in her phone and she gave me a list of what it could stand for I hate to admit it, but I was devastated. I knew it wasn't going to be good, but it hurt my fucking heart when she said 'do not trust' but I only have myself to blame. It's my fault that she feels that way and no matter how hard she tries to push me away, I'm not ready to give up on her. On us.

I've wanted to reach out to her and apologize but I've deciding the best course of action at this point is to just give her some space. It's been extremely hard though, when I'm constantly seeing her post about James. James who doesn't make her cry like I do. James who seems to only make her happy. It pisses me off. Especially because I don't know if they are just friends or if they are dating. I'm afraid to ask because I'm not sure what I would do if I found out they are actually together.

"Mate, are you even paying attention?" Charles asks, shaking my thoughts away. We're currently out to dinner at the hotel restaurant. We're in Miami for the GP and I for some reason agreed to go out to dinner with him and Lydia even though I really just want to hang out in my hotel room and brood by myself.

"No. Not at all." I reply as I turn to face him and Lydia. Lydia looks at me with sympathy and I hate it. She knows how fucked up I've been over the last few months. Charles is pretty oblivious to why I'm acting the way I have been. Or maybe he does know, but he's choosing to ignore it.

"You need to stop torturing yourself." Charles responds, looking pointedly at my phone screen that's open to Bianca's most recent tweet from last night, a photo of her and James out at a club in Soho. Apparently Charles isn't as oblivious as I thought so I quickly turn my phone over so I can't be called out even more.

"Just tell me if they are together." I beg, pleading with Lydia to just tell me so I can stop agonizing over it. She exchanges a glance with Charles and finally looks back at me.

"They're friends with benefits." Charles says and Lydia groans in annoyance at Charles responding before she could. My heart squeezes in my chest as I try to not freak out.

"She calls him her situationship." Lydia argues, which is honestly way worse because that means it could potentially lead to a real relationship.

My jaw clenches as I try to reign in my hurt and anger. I grab my phone from the table and pull up her twitter account again so I can look through all of her posts to see if I can read anything into them now that I know the truth. I'm greeted with a new post from her and my stomach dips when I see the photo of her; she's wearing one of my hoodies. She's wearing it with a pair of black leopard pants and combat boots, her hair in a messy bun and she's leaning on James' motorcycle. The caption is something cheeky about him not letting her drive but he did take the photo. Jealousy rips through me over the fact they are together but it makes me happy to see she's wearing my clothes.