Archive of Our Own ^beta

Lando loved filming for Quadrant. It was usually what he looked forward too, spending time making videos with his best friends. But all he could focus on today was how tired he felt. The double header had been exhausted and he’d barely been home for a few hours before heading back out. 

“You sure you’re good for this, mate?” Max leaned against the barrier. “You look knackered.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lando said, waving him off. “Just karting, right? I could do this in my sleep.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.” Max muttered.

Lando looked pale under the floodlights.  There were dark shadows under his eyes and his movements were a little sluggish, but when the camera crew shouted, “Ready when you are!”, he pasted on that easy grin that never quite reached his eyes. He shot off the line like muscle memory alone was driving him, the kart jerking forward with a burst of energy he didn’t really feel.

“C’mon, Bob!” Max’s voice crackled through the coms. “Don’t tell me you’ve lost your edge already!”

“You wish.” He shot back, forcing the kart into the next corner a little harder than he should have. His vision flashed white for a split second before settling again.

It wasn’t anything. It couldn’t be anything. He’d barely slept since the race, sure, but this was supposed to be fun. Just a Quadrant video. Easy laps and bit of friendly trash talk. Except his arms ached more than they should have, and his chest felt tight with each breath.

He pushed anyway.

Lando overtook Max with a cheeky wave, and for a moment it felt almost normal. But by the fifth lap, the world had started to blur around the edges. He missed a braking point and clipped the kerb hard enough to rattle his teeth.

As the race ended they pulled into the pit lane side by side. Max hopped out of his kart, tugging off his helmet with a grin. “One more lap and I would’ve got you.”

“Yeah, in your dreams.” Lando managed a half-smile, one hand braced on the side of the kart.

“C’mon, Champ.” Max slung an arm around Lando’s shoulders as they walked over to the makeshift podium.

They stepped up onto the podium making a show for the cameras pointed their way. “Alright boys, big smiles!” One of the cameramen shouted.

Lando lifted his bottle, grin plastered on out of habit. His arm felt weirdly heavy. Max was saying something, joking about doing a champagne spray, when he felt Lando sway beside him. At first, he thought it was just a stumble. Then the bottle slipped from Lando’s hand and hit the ground with a smash.

“Lando?” Max reached out, catching him by the arm but Lando’s legs gave way completely as his head dropped forward. “Whoa-“

“Someone get a medic!” The cameraman screamed.

“Hey, you’re okay, yeah? Just stay with me.” Max tapped his cheek lightly. “Lando, come on.”

One of the crew ran to grab a water bottle, another was already on the phone. Max stayed where he was, hand pressed to Lando’s shoulder, as if letting go might make him slip away entirely.

“Should’ve said you weren’t feeling right.” He muttered, half angry, half scared. “You never bloody say when something’s wrong.”

Lando’s head lolled slightly toward him, a faint sound escaping his throat.

The next few minutes blurred together. A couple of the medics knelt beside Lando, checking his pulse and loosening his race suit around the collar. Max backed up just enough to give them space but stayed close, his knees still on the concrete.

“He’s dehydrated and overheated.” One of them said. “Let’s get him out of the suit and cooled down.”

After what felt like forever, Lando blinked. His brow furrowed, eyes flickering open to the blinding lights above him.

“Easy, mate.” Max said. “Don’t try to sit up yet.”

“What happened?” Lando groaned.

“You fainted.” Max said, forcing a smile. “Right on camera too. Great content.”

The medic beside them handed Max a cool pack. “Keep this on his neck for now. He’ll be alright, just needs fluids and rest.”

Max nodded, pressing the pack gently against Lando’s skin. “You scared the crap out of everyone, you know that?”

“Didn’t mean to.” Lando mumbled.

“Don’t do that to me again, yeah? Not funny.”

———

The drive back was mostly quiet. Lando sat in the passenger seat, hoodie zipped up, head resting against the window while the city lights slid past. Every now and then Max glanced over just to make sure he was still awake. When they finally pulled up outside Lando’s apartment, Max killed the engine and unbuckled his seatbelt before Lando could even reach for the door.

“You don’t have to walk me up. Lando said.

“Just making sure you don’t face-plant in the lift.”

Max was right on his heels and his opened  the door and dropped his bag next to the sofa.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting water.” Max opened the fridge, pulled out a bottle, and tossed it to him. “And before you say anything. I’m staying. Making sure you don’t pass out again or whatever.”

“Fine. You can stay. But only because you’ll be texting me every 5 minutes anyway if you don’t.”

When Lando returned from getting changed Max had kicked off his shoes and was sprawled on the sofa, a cooking show playing on the tv. Lando dropped down beside him with a soft sigh, curling into the corner of the sofa, hoodie sleeves pushed up over his hands.

“You feeling any better?” Max glanced over. 

“Yeah. Just tired.” Lando nodded, staring at the screen. 

“You’ve been tired for weeks.” Max said. “You don’t have to keep running on empty, you know.”

“You sound like Jon.”

“Good. Maybe you’ll actually listen then.” Max shifted, turning a little to face him. “You push too hard, Bob. And yeah, I get it. But it’s okay to stop, no one’s gonna think less of you for it.”

“I know…you’re right.” Lando leaned his head back against the cushion, eyes flicking toward him.

“I usually am.”

“Don’t tell anyone I actually listened to you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Max said, smiling. “But you’re still taking tomorrow off.”

“Yeah, yeah.”