We're just friends...or are we.? |[ carlando]|

" whatever came next... " - 42

~ITS RACE WEEK!!! FINALLY!!

Also! I will take a break for two days! This chapter will be extra long just for you guys!

Thursday afternoon I'll be back, depending on what time media day starts since I'm 2 hours ahead of their time.

----
It was 2:30 a.m. on Monday, and Lando lay wide awake in bed. His body was exhausted, but his mind wouldn't let him rest. Thoughts of Carlos and his mother swirled in his head. Carlos had promised he’d be back early in the morning, around 4:30, but it felt like the time was crawling.

Lando’s head pounded with a headache that refused to go away, and his stomach felt nauseous, as if something was off. The physical discomfort only made the emotional strain more unbearable.

Lando groaned softly as he sat up, wincing at the ache in his body. He reached for the covers, pulling them off with effort and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. His feet hit the cold floor, and he stood up, moving slowly, trying not to let the dizziness consume him.

He walked toward the kitchen, every step a struggle. Once there, he opened the cabinet, grabbed some painkillers, and then picked up a sleeping pill just in case. He swallowed them down with some water, hoping it would ease the pounding in his head. With the glass still in his hand, he walked over to the dining table and sat down, staring at nothing for a moment.

The sound of a key turning in the lock startled him. He looked up just as the front door opened, revealing Carlos stepping inside. Carlos’s eyes widened when he saw Lando sitting there, his pale face illuminated by the dim kitchen light.

- “Lando,”

Carlos said softly, closing the door behind him and setting his luggage aside. He walked over, kneeling in front of him.

- “Why are you awake? It’s so late.”

Lando gave him a weak smile, his voice raspy.

- “I couldn’t sleep. You said you’d be here around 4:30 and it's only 2:47... How was the—”

He cut himself off, doubling over as a violent coughing fit overtook him.

Carlos frowned, worry etched on his face. He reached out, cupping Lando’s cheeks with his warm hands.

- “Shh, take it easy,”

he murmured, his thumbs brushing over Lando’s pale skin.

- “The flight was fine, but I don’t care about that right now. Let’s get you to bed, cariño.”

Lando swallowed hard, nodding as he cleared his throat.

- “Okay,”

he croaked, his voice dry and strained.

Carlos stood, gently helping Lando to his feet. He wrapped an arm around his waist, guiding him back to the bedroom with careful steps. Once they reached the bed, Carlos helped him sit before pulling the covers back and tucking him in.

- “Here,”

Carlos said softly, smoothing the blanket over him.

“You need to rest.”

Lando smiled faintly, his voice hoarse.

- “I don’t want to get you sick.”

He turned his head away, his eyes heavy with exhaustion.

Carlos rolled his eyes and slid into bed on the other side. Without hesitation, he scooted closer, wrapping an arm securely around Lando and pulling him against his chest.