Flight Attendant - Lando norris fanfic

29-Shattering Nightlights

The club was alive, a pulsating rhythm of music and light, a sea of laughter and clinking glasses. Neon colors splashed across the walls, and the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the underlying buzz of celebration. I was surrounded by Lando's friends, their faces animated, laughter spilling out as they relived every moment of the podium finish. Lando, his eyes glistening with happiness, had an arm around me, and he couldn't stop grinning.

This was his night, and it showed. The way he sparkled in the room, every person drawn to his glow. Pride welled up in me, and I couldn't help but feel a deep affection as I watched him talk to his friends. Occasionally, he'd lean down to whisper something in my ear, a joke or a teasing comment that made me smile. It was perfect. Or, at least, it should have been.

The bass of the music vibrated through my chest as I moved through the crowd, the world around me turning hazy under the swirling strobe lights. I felt warm from the champagne we'd toasted with earlier, my mind pleasantly fuzzy but still clear enough to soak in the thrill of the night. I needed a breath of fresh air, or maybe just a pause from the crowd, and I told Lando I'd be right back, his hand lingering on mine before he let me go.

But as I threaded my way through the sea of people, my happiness was torn apart. Suddenly, the room tilted and shifted in a way that made my pulse race, though not for any good reason. My vision narrowed, and all the background noise seemed to compress into a dull roar. There he was.

Aaron Miller.

A nightmare made flesh, standing right in front of me. He was laughing, his head thrown back, a drink clutched in his hand, his other arm slung around a friend's shoulders. The sight of his face, even in profile, was like a blow to my gut. My stomach twisted, and an icy wave washed over me, obliterating any warmth or happiness I'd felt just moments before. It had been months since Ibiza. Months since he'd taken something from me that I'd never get back. And now, here he was, just meters away, looking carefree and... normal. Like he hadn't ruined a part of me.

My knees buckled, but I didn't fall. I stood frozen, feeling every bit of air rush out of my lungs as if the room had been vacuum-sealed. He didn't see me. He probably wouldn't have remembered me, anyway. But the memory of his hands, the smell of alcohol and salt in the air from that horrible night, came rushing back so vividly that I almost choked. My chest felt tight, and I couldn't breathe. The walls of the club started to close in, the air thickening and compressing around me until all I could feel was pure, unfiltered panic.

I stumbled backward, barely aware of people moving out of my way. The panic attack gripped me with claws, shredding through any semblance of composure I had. My heart pounded painfully in my chest, each beat like a hammer against my ribs. My vision blurred, and I couldn't get enough air, couldn't think. My body was moving on instinct, seeking escape from a place that felt too small, too crowded, too filled with ghosts.

The cool night air hit me like a slap, but it did nothing to calm me down. I stumbled onto the street, clutching at my chest, feeling the hot sting of tears as they poured down my face. My hands were shaking uncontrollably, and I couldn't stop gasping, as though the world had tilted off its axis and left me clinging to the edge.

"Babe!" I heard Lando's voice, frantic, cutting through the noise that filled my ears. His footsteps followed, and then he was there, right in front of me, his hands reaching out but stopping short when he saw the state I was in. "What happened? Are you okay?" His voice cracked, and the concern in his eyes made my heart twist.

I wanted to speak, but my voice felt strangled, trapped behind the sheer force of my panic. I was trembling, every muscle in my body taut with remembered fear. I tried to breathe, but each attempt felt more futile than the last, until I was nearly sobbing from the effort.

Lando closed the distance between us, his hands gentle as he cupped my face, forcing me to look at him. "Hey, breathe with me," he said softly, his thumbs brushing away the tears on my cheeks. "In and out, okay? Just breathe."

His voice anchored me, just a little. I focused on the sound, on the deep, calming breaths he was taking, trying desperately to match his rhythm. My chest still hurt, and my tears wouldn't stop, but I managed to drag in a shaky breath, and then another.

"What happened?" he whispered, his forehead creasing in worry. He kept his voice low, intimate, like it was just the two of us in the entire world. "Was it something I did? Did someone hurt you?"

I shook my head, swallowing back another sob. People had started to notice, turning to look at us with curious, prying eyes. Cameras were coming out, flashes already beginning to ignite like tiny, relentless stars. It made me feel raw and exposed, and my skin burned with humiliation.

"I... I saw him," I managed to croak out, my voice breaking. "Miller. He was in there, and I just—" I choked on another sob, and Lando's arms wrapped around me, pulling me into his chest. He was warm, and solid, and he smelled like home. It was enough to make me fall apart.

He held me tight, his hand cradling the back of my head as if he could shield me from the rest of the world. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, and there was a tremor in his voice, like he was on the verge of breaking too. "I'm so, so sorry, babe. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

But the world didn't care about our pain. The flashes kept coming, people taking pictures of my tear-streaked face and Lando's desperate embrace. Rumors would spread like wildfire, and I knew we'd be the talk of the town by morning.