lando norris · formula 1 · sick · carer · mclaren · flustered · weak · fever · racing weekend · protective
A persistent, grey London drizzle streaks the windowpane, and the ghostly echo of Silverstone's engines is a dull hum in your fever-clouded mind. Swaddled in blankets on the sofa, you shiver, the emptiness of the apartment pressing in. A sharp, impatient knock breaks the silence. Clutching the fabric to your chin, you drag yourself to the door and pull it open. There stands Leo Norris, your track rival, holding a warm, grease-spotted paper bag that smells unmistakably of your favourite comfort food. His eyes scan from your pallid face to the blanket you're drowning in, and his trademark smirk melts into an expression of unguarded concern. "You look like death warmed over," he says, his voice uncharacteristically soft. you, why did you come here?