Soft Launch - Lando NorrisXLogan Sargeant-Fanfiction F1

leaving

Lando felt like his chest was being crushed as he zipped up his suitcase. Every movement felt heavy, deliberate, like his body was trying to delay the inevitable. Logan sat on the couch, Leo curled up in his lap, absentmindedly scratching behind the dog’s ears. He was trying to act tough, but Lando knew better.

“This sucks,” Logan finally muttered, his voice low and strained.

Lando stopped what he was doing and looked at him. “I know,” he said softly, setting his suitcase by the door. “I hate this too.”

They’d spent the last week building some semblance of normalcy—unpacking Logan’s stuff into the apartment, sharing quiet moments over meals, taking Leo for walks—but now it felt like it was all slipping away.

A knock at the door startled them both. Lando’s trainer was here. The plan had been for him to come and drag Lando out if necessary, knowing Lando wouldn’t be able to leave on his own.

“I’ll get it,” Logan said quickly, standing up and shifting Leo to the side. He opened the door to find Lando’s trainer standing there, offering him a sympathetic smile. Logan nodded, stepping aside to let him in.

“Hey, mate,” the trainer greeted Logan gently, before turning his attention to Lando. “You ready?”

Lando swallowed hard, his feet refusing to move. He glanced back at Logan, who was putting on his best brave face, standing there with his arms crossed like he wasn’t on the verge of breaking down.

“Go,” Logan urged, his voice firmer than Lando expected. “I’ll be fine. You’ve got a race to win.”

Lando shook his head, the guilt clawing at him. “I don’t want to leave you.”

Logan rolled his eyes, though they were glassy with unshed tears. “Lando, seriously, you’re being dramatic. I’ll be okay. I’ve got Leo, and I’ll—” his voice cracked slightly, but he forced a smile—“I’ll be waiting for you when you get back.”

But the facade broke the moment Lando stepped closer. Logan’s chin trembled, and a tear slipped down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away, but it was too late—Lando had seen it.

“Logan—”

“No,” Logan interrupted, his voice shaking. “Don’t make this harder than it already is. Just go. Please.”

Lando felt like his heart was shattering. His trainer stepped forward, placing a hand on Lando’s shoulder. “Come on, mate. You don’t want to miss your flight.”

Lando hesitated, looking between his trainer and Logan. Logan was standing there, Leo now cradled tightly in his arms, staring at him with that look—that heart-wrenching, pleading look that made Lando want to throw his bag to the floor and never leave.

But he couldn’t. He knew that.

With a deep breath, he stepped forward and pulled Logan into a fierce hug, holding him like he never wanted to let go. “I’ll call you as soon as I land,” he whispered.

Logan nodded against his chest, his fingers gripping the back of Lando’s shirt. “I know. Just… be safe.”

When they finally pulled apart, Lando’s trainer gently guided him toward the door. Logan didn’t move, standing frozen in place as Lando picked up his suitcase and stepped out.

The last thing Lando saw before the door closed was Logan standing there, holding Leo tightly, his tear-streaked face etched into Lando’s mind.

The car ride to the airport was silent, Lando staring out the window, his chest tight with the weight of leaving Logan behind. He could still see that look—Logan’s brave facade crumbling at the edges, his watery eyes full of a sadness that mirrored Lando’s own.

As the car pulled onto the highway, Lando buried his face in his hands. He hated this. Every second of it. But he also knew he couldn’t give up—not on racing, and definitely not on Logan. For now, all he could do was hope the next two weeks passed quickly, and that Logan would be okay until he came back.

-----

The questions started as soon as Lando arrived at the paddock. Everyone who knew about his relationship with Logan wanted to know how he was doing. Teammates, drivers, and even a few trusted crew members stopped him in the garage, in the hospitality areas, and as he walked to his motorhome.

“How’s Logan holding up?” Alex asked quietly, his tone gentle but concerned.

Lando forced a small smile. “He’s managing,” he replied, keeping it vague. He wasn’t about to tell anyone how Logan had cried himself to sleep three nights in a row, or how he’d clung to Leo like the dog was his lifeline.

Pierre was next, cornering him in the media pen. “Have you talked to him today?”

“Yeah, this morning,” Lando answered curtly, trying to move past without saying too much.

But the hardest moments came with the people who truly knew him.

Oscar caught him in the hallway outside McLaren’s hospitality suite. The Australian had his usual calm expression, but Lando could see the worry in his eyes. “Mate, how’s Logan really doing?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

Lando paused, his hands gripping the straps of his backpack tightly. “He’s struggling,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Oscar nodded solemnly before pulling Lando into a hug. Lando stiffened at first, then let out a shaky breath, allowing himself to relax for just a moment in his teammate’s embrace. “If you need anything—or if he does—just tell me,” Oscar said firmly. “I’m here for both of you.”

Carlos found him later that afternoon in the drivers’ lounge. The Spaniard didn’t even bother with small talk, pulling Lando into a tight hug as soon as he saw him. “I know you’re trying to stay strong, but don’t forget to take care of yourself too, eh?” he murmured.

Lando didn’t trust himself to speak, so he just nodded against Carlos’ shoulder, swallowing hard.

Charles was the last. He caught Lando after qualifying, his expression as soft as his voice. “I know Logan didn’t want me to worry,” he said, “but I can’t help it. Tell him I’m here for him, please.” Then, without waiting for a response, Charles pulled Lando into a hug, holding him like he was trying to transfer some of his own strength to the younger driver.

These moments were bittersweet. On one hand, Lando felt supported, surrounded by people who cared deeply about both him and Logan. But on the other hand, every hug, every concerned question, every kind word was a reminder of how much Logan was struggling—and how little Lando could do from miles away.

At night, the isolation was worse. The hotel rooms felt colder, emptier without Logan beside him. He tried to distract himself with calls and texts, but he hated the distance, the helplessness.

Carlos and Oscar tried to fill the void as best they could. They invited him out to dinners, hung around his hotel room playing games, and did their best to keep his mind off things. It worked for a while—Oscar’s deadpan jokes and Carlos’ boundless energy were good distractions—but Lando still felt the ache in his chest every time he looked at his phone, hoping for a message from Logan.

He slept restlessly, his dreams filled with memories of their time in Monaco, only to wake up in an unfamiliar bed with an emptiness beside him that hurt more than he wanted to admit. Every morning, he’d call Logan before heading to the track, his heart sinking every time he heard the exhaustion in his boyfriend’s voice.

The days felt long, the nights even longer. Lando was on edge constantly, caught between trying to focus on racing and worrying about Logan. But no matter how hard it got, he held onto one thought: in just a few more days, he’d be back in Monaco. Back with Logan. And that was the only thing keeping him going.