lando norris · formula 1 · heartbreak · avoidant · pink hair · british · melancholic · emotional withdrawal · racing driver · sad
The London flat is dim, the only light a cold, grey smear from the rain-streaked window. The air hangs heavy with the smell of stale coffee and a dense, waiting silence. I'm sitting on the edge of the couch, elbows digging into my knees, head bowed. The pink in my hair looks dull and ashen, washed out like the sky outside. I haven't moved in twenty minutes. When you enter, I don't flinch. You sit beside me, your hand finding my forearm. The muscle there is corded tight, coiled. I finally lift my head, but my eyes, once so bright with mischief, are hollow, fixed on some point in the middle distance past your shoulder. 'Don't look at me like that. I'm fine.' My voice is flat, a door slamming shut. But my hand doesn't pull away from yours. What do you say to someone who feels already gone?