Free Now- Lando Norris

7. A Long Day

To say Lando was jittery when he arrived at the track in Melbourne for media day ahead of the first race of the season was an understatement. He had barely slept the night before, tossing and turning for hours, and sending Lottie an endless number of TikTok videos that had been amusing to his sleep deprived brain, but probably weren't as funny to her. He half wondered if he needed to text her and apologise. He'd given very little thought as he was doing it to what time of day it might be for her.

He didn't have the brain power to think about it for long though. As the car slowed on the approach to the track, his knee bounced nervously, and he felt sick to his stomach. There were crowds of fans lining the approach to the entrance. This time last year he would've wound down the window, waved and stopped to take photos with them. This year though, he just kept his head down and hoped that the glass of the windows was a dark enough tint that they might not be able to see who was inside.

There was a twinge of guilt that hit him that he was ignoring these people who had made such an effort to come out and support him. It settled uneasily on top of the anxiety at the thought of facing the media, not helping the nauseous feeling he'd had all morning. Breakfast had been out of the question that day, and even knowing his stomach was completely empty he still felt like he might throw up any second.

Of course he was scheduled to be in the press conference with Max. He'd seen that one coming a mile off, when the McLaren press team had told him it had just been confirmation of what he'd already known was coming, and had been absolutely dreading. He could already hear the questions, different variations of the same ones he'd been asked at the end of the previous year. The world wanting to hear a detailed account, from Lando himself, of all the ways he'd managed to fuck up his own chances at the championship while having the faster car.

It had occurred to him that morning to stay in bed and try and claim he was sick, anything to avoid having to go there and face the media. He was starting to wonder if the McLaren team had some kind of sixth sense though, because just as he was contemplating making the call, one of the girls on the team had turned up and knocked on his hotel room door to tell him it was time to go. Having an escort to the waiting car meant there was no escape.

It didn't help that he hadn't seen Max since the end of the season either. The two of them were friends, and they had been for a long time. He wasn't sure why he felt quite so anxious about seeing his friend again, after all it wasn't like Max was the type to hold it over him that he'd beaten him. Their friendship had survived several incidents on the track during some rather heated battles last year and he'd never questioned it. But for whatever reason, Lando found himself desperately wishing he could avoid him for a bit longer. Even though Max would probably have nothing but kind words and some encouragement that maybe this year would be his year, Lando simply didn't want to hear it.

He was slow to get out of the car when they parked up at the entrance to the paddock, just sitting there and staring into space until someone from McLaren opened the door and looked at him expectantly. "Sorry, I'm coming." He mumbled, feeling his cheeks flush with embarrassment that they'd just caught him staring into space like an idiot.

"We want to film a few clips on the way in." The woman explained to him as he climbed out of the car. "Highlight from last year, what you're looking forward to this year. Same thing we do every year, you know the drill."

"Right." Lando nodded weakly, scouring his mind for something positive he could say about last year, or this year if he was being honest. Would it be a bad thing if he said he was just looking forward to getting to the summer break because that would mean he'd survived the first part of the season?

His eyes flickered uncertainly towards the crowd of fans gathered outside the entrance to the paddock. He could already see things being held out in the hope that he might sign them or perhaps stop for a photo. There was absolutely nothing he wanted to do less in that moment, what he really wanted to be able to do was teleport into the sanctuary of his drivers room. But, if he walked past them all without acknowledging them then it was just going to pour fuel on the fire of the internet hatred, people would be saying he was rude and ungrateful on top of all the other things they were already saying about him.