Thanks to Norris

part 57- the truth

-time skip back to when you were fifteen.

the championship day.

You led the race from the very first lap — every turn, every straight, every single moment you were out front, pushing hard to maintain the gap. The championship was so close, hanging in the balance like a fragile thread, and you knew that if you kept this up, victory would be yours. The roar of the crowd, the burning adrenaline, the weight of all those months of hard work felt like they were finally paying off.

But beneath it all, there was a silent decision forming in your mind. You wanted Lando to win. Not because you didn't want it for yourself — but because you knew how much it meant to him. You remembered the years, the fights, the friendship, the rivalry. You wanted him to have this moment, the one you both dreamed of as kids.

So when Lando caught up, when his car was right on your tail and he made the move to pass, you didn't fight him. Instead, you consciously eased off the racing line, let your car drift wide into the gravel at turn 8. The tires lost grip, and you could feel the harsh barrier scrape along your left arm as you slid off.

The sting was immediate — sharp and burning, pain blooming under your skin as blood started to seep through your racing suit. But you didn't flinch. You glanced over at Lando as he sped past without even looking back. No nod, no smile, no gesture of thanks — just pure focus on his win.

Your heart sank.

The physical pain in your arm was nothing compared to the ache inside. You had given him the championship on a silver platter, and yet, he didn't seem to notice what you'd sacrificed. The cheers from the crowd faded into a blur as you struggled to hold back tears. This was more than just a race — it was a fracture in the bond you once shared.

As you pulled back onto the track, blood dripping down your arm, you knew that this moment would haunt you for a long time. You gave everything for him — and he drove on, unaware.

Back to now.

The silence between us now felt different—no longer heavy with avoidance, but full of unsaid emotions finally starting to unravel. Lando's fingers were still intertwined with mine, warm and grounding. His thumb brushed slowly over the back of my hand, and I could feel the hesitation in him, but also the quiet hope.

"I meant it," he repeated, softer now. "Even back then... I never stopped caring. I just didn't know how to handle you, us, all of it."

I looked at him, really looked at him—the Lando I knew as a kid, the one who'd broken my heart at fifteen, the one who had grown into a man I could still never fully walk away from. The familiar mess of curls, the subtle dimple that only showed when he smiled for real. And that look in his eyes. Vulnerable. Real.

"Do you remember that day in karting?" I asked suddenly. "When you won and I let you..."

He nodded, eyes dropping. "Yeah. I've replayed it a million times. You could've taken the win. I know you let me have it."

I smiled a little bitterly. "I bled for that moment. Literally. I watched you drive away like I didn't matter. That was the first time I hated you."

"I hated myself too," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "I knew what I did. But I thought it was the only way forward. And I've spent every year since trying to justify it."

I squeezed his hand, not because I forgave him entirely, but because I finally saw him—really saw him—for what he was. A boy who didn't know how to love without breaking something in the process.