SEVEN MINUTES || L. NORRIS

TWENTY ONE

I'm already halfway out of town

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LANDO

I stood at the check in desk, my passport against my chest, my hands trembling as I waited patiently in line for my turn. This was a bad idea. Getting on this plane was a bad fucking idea. Because Isabelle and I planned to fly to Monaco for the beginning of our break, I was making the trip alone, with the rest of the McLaren team taking the same flight, only twenty four hours after I was.

I realised how far apart Issy and I were after stepping out of my car, allowing the cold air to hit my face as I unloaded my bags from the boot. Heathrow was only a fifteen minute drive from her apartment, but I felt like I had been whisked away to another continent; I felt like we were millions of miles apart. As I dragged my suitcase behind me, my backpack swung over my shoulder, I realised just what I would have done for this to be so different. I didn't want to be this far away from her any longer; if I'd known that heartbreak would've felt this way, I know I wouldn't have let her go. She would stay so close to me, she wouldn't budge. She would stay right with me and we would be making this trip to Monte Carlo together right now.

Being in Monte Carlo also meant that Isabelle could see her friends, other drivers who she never saw often because the only one she would see was Carlos, if she ever came down to the McLaren factory with me. On race weekends, Isabelle made time to see Charles at Ferrari, Max at Red Bull and Daniel at Renault. She became friends quickly with every driver on the grid, some more than others, but the three boys were her best friends. She'd known Charles for a long time now, longer than she'd known me, through her family. Isabelle's father was part French, only by a tiny amount, however, he still had connections to friends in Nice, where he spent lots of his childhood, visiting his grandparents. Issy's cousins were good friends with Charles, who visited them often from Monaco and from there, her friendship with him blossomed. I always found it mental how we both ended up in the same profession, but he was a lovely kid and I was glad Isabelle had someone like him in his life. Issy was brought up around Formula 1, similarly to my upbringing which included lots of racing; her mother was a good friend to someone who worked within the Red Bull factory, whose name I could never remember, hence the reason she knew Daniel and Max well. I knew it was definitely fate when she told me about her links to Formula 1; I knew we were meant to be together.

I was already too far from Isabelle for my liking. I had this exact same thought every time I had stepped foot in this airport since we broke up. Having to come to Heathrow only ever meant one thing; I was flying out of the country to go abroad and that was Issy's least favourite part of my job. I knew that even though we weren't together, her anxiety levels would run high whenever I flew anywhere for work. I knew that right now, no matter where she was or who she was with, there would be a little something at the back of her mind causing her to worry about me flying. If she was alone and sleeping, her mind would be completely engulfed with the thought of something happening to me. I wanted to call her to let know I was alright, that if she wanted to fly out with me, I would book her on the next flight to Nice. I wanted her to know that I loved her, that she meant the world to me and I wasn't willing to lose her for real just yet. A little part of me still believed that it was going to be alright.

I smiled at the woman behind the check in desk weakly, handing my passport to her, as she scrolled down the list of names on her screen, "Lando Norris? Shouldn't you be flying with Isabelle Martin?"

I almost broke down at the mention of her. I didn't cancel her flight in case circumstances changed. I bit on my lip to stop tears from developing in my eyes, whilst I shook my head politely at the woman.