SEVEN MINUTES || L. NORRIS

FIVE

It's been half an hour now since I dropped you home

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LANDO

I finally brought myself back to my car, after rocking myself back and forth on the concrete in front of Isabelle's apartment block. My legs were shaking, my hands were trembling uncontrollably and it felt like I'd just been stabbed through the chest a million times over. I would just whimper into my hands, which I held over my face, as the tears resurfaced one more time. I cautiously started the engine, taking a few deep breaths to regulate my breathing before I placed my hands on the wheel.

As I drove away from her apartment, with nothing but pain consuming my fatigued body, I started to remember how many times I'd made this journey with a heavy heart and tears in my eyes. Before every flight I stepped onto, or even before I drove to a training session, I would make sure to stay with Isabelle. Whether I was leaving her apartment first thing in the morning, or I'd kissed her goodbye after dropping her off, my heart still ached, because I had to leave her. Each night before I had to leave for a few days, we would stay up late and she would lie in my arms, crying about how much it hurt and how she wasn't sure how to cope with the way she felt. Of course, I didn't want to leave her behind. If she didn't have such important work commitments, I would bring her with me everywhere I went. We both knew that nothing would ever make this possible, unless she completely forgot about work and allowed me to provide for the pair of us. She knew I earned enough to do so, but Issy was never the type to be so reliant on me for money. She had her goals and I didn't want to stand in the way of them.

I remembered the way Issy would be sitting on the edge of the bed, as I tiptoed back to our room after using the bathroom. Her back would always be facing me, she would place herself in front of the window so that she could admire how everybody on the other side of the glass would go about their own business. I would walk over to her and sit by her side, reaching for her hand and holding it delicately between my fingers. I would speak softly to her, hoping to coax her feelings out of her, even though I knew exactly what it was, every single time. She was at war with her own mind and it absolutely killed me to see her suffering, whilst I knew there was very little I could do. She would never make eye contact for the first few minutes, but she often said, "You can't leave me here, Lando", to which I never really knew what to say. When she finally felt comfortable to look at me, she would fall into my arms, allowing her tears to dampen the skin on my shoulder. I would run my hand up and down her back, whispering in her ear, telling her that I loved her and it would all be over soon. "I don't want you to go", she would say, almost begging me not to leave her alone, "I'm so terrified of losing you. I need you here with me".

I rarely knew what to say to that. I understood her anxiety more than anybody; I watched it take control of her mind and body, so angry that she had to suffer from something so soul destroying. I would rather it was myself suffering, instead of her. She would be physically shaking in my arms, her hands wrapped tightly around my wrists as she cried out in pain. I would run my fingers through her hair, whilst reaching for the fresh glass of water I would always make sure to collect from the kitchen before I came to bed, forcing her to take a sip so that she calmed down.

"What is it, that's worrying you so much?" I would whisper into her ear, to prevent her from jumping in shock. In such silence like these ones, even the quietest of whispers would be so loud and terrifying for her.

"You being all the way over there," she would sob as she buried her face into my chest, hitting her hands against my skin. "You never coming home to me. You crashing the car and dying, whilst I'm screaming and crying at the television, waiting to see you emerge from the car but you never-"