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Chapter Text

Lando had given life one last try after Brazil.

He had had everything he dreamed of ripped away from him…. His dream since he was a little boy, who had only just started getting into motorsports. 

It hurt.

And, social media’s take on it all made it so much worse.

They had taken a snippet of his interview and twisted the narrative into him hating on Max, and suddenly, every notification on his phone was something hateful and most of them even went as far as wishing for his death. 

People were commenting under his Mexico post, using pictures of Max or even gifs of Max, telling him to end his life and that he bottles everything. They were even tagging Max himself in those posts, wanting him to see just the type of guy they perceived him to be.

It hurt, especially when the older man never reached out.

Didn’t even reach out after Lando posted a story congratulating his friend, but all the replies he got were telling him to die so he deleted it.

They were supposed to be close friends, all of them on the grid were meant to be with their jobs. They all did the exact same thing, saw one another almost every weekend. They were bound to be close.

Yet, George, Carlos, Daniel and Lewis were the only ones to reach out. 

He was being ripped to shreds by Max’s fans and the world champion didn’t even send a message to check in on him. 

So, Lando did the reasonable thing anyone would do in his situation.

He didn’t sleep for over twenty hours, hiding away in his Monaco flat. Dodging text after text, phone call after phone call. He played video games with Max F, trying to distract himself from reality. His reality, where a certain percentage wished for his demise.

And he’d be lying if he didn’t admit to thinking about it, prior to Brazil.

It just, became a prominent thought after.

He had written letters when he returned.

He had spent the whole flight at peace with his decision, but as he saw the picture his brother had sent him of his nieces, and the video that shortly followed of Mila and a drawing she had made for him.

He decided to give life one last try. 

He had until the end of the season to decide if life was worth living.

That resignation, because that’s what it was. He had resigned the rest of his life if this didn’t get any better.

It got worse before it got better.

The depression that had fogged over his mind never left, as did the exhaustion from those days he spent awake, unable to sleep as his brain wouldn’t shut up. 

His eating got less and less, and he knew Jon was growing worried, he could tell by the glances he would throw his way, and how his parents were suddenly attending more of the races.

Most people would be happy to see their parents. Would burst into tears at the sight of them.

Instead, Lando blinked at them and forced the smile onto his face. 

“I’m just tired” he would tell them, and every single time a piece of him died with that statement.

He had given life one more try, but he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to anymore. Especially after Qatar. 

Following that race, he locked himself in his room and held a knife to his wrists, prepared to end it all there and then. Life wasn’t giving him a reason to keep going, and the hate on social media kept getting worse and worse. He got drunk on the bathroom floor of his hotel and enjoyed watching the blood lazily ooze out of the cuts on his arms. 

For the first time in months, the voices in his head were silent and he felt at peace. 

The better came in the form of winning the constructors championship. 

He and Oscar, they had done it. After an extremely tough season, they had managed to walk away with the title.

That day was also the day Lando made the decision to end it all. 

He watched as everyone celebrated, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off his teammate and their team principal together. He knew the future of McLaren would be safe with Oscar. So, he spent that day partying and feeling free, enjoying his last moment with the team. 

He had been in Monaco for three whole days, getting his things in order: tidying his flat, mailing his letters, writing his will. 

The day he decided to do it, he turned his phone off. He was supposed to meet Oscar for a training exercise, but that wasn’t until late afternoon, and he would be dead by the time the Aussie came by. 

He got changed into an old top and some shorts before heading into the bathroom. Everything was in order: towels were hidden, razor and knife were both neatly lined on the countertop beside his bath which was slowly filling up with water.

This was it. 

Taking a deep breath, he turned the tap off of the bath and climbed in. The water was ice cold, not that it mattered, he could hardly feel it over the numbness in his chest. 

He shakily reached for the knife first, and closed his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, and held the knife to his arm. He looked down as he pressed it hard into the skin, and watched in silence as the blood began to spill out and alter the color of the bath water. 

He pulled the knife quite far along his arm before the pain hit him and he gasped, pulling it away. His breathing quickened, and tears began sliding down his face from the pain. Trembling, he held the knife to the other arm and did the same thing.

Blood poured out of his arms, and after a while he started to go all woozy from bloodloss. He leant back into his bathtub, and didn’t fight the exhaustion from taking him under as his vision began to swim and blacken around the edges.

This was it.

His ears were ringing, but he could just faintly make out the sounds of banging on his front door before the world went black, and he went into the abyss. Free from the world.

Chapter Text

Lewis had always kept tabs on the younger drivers. Especially when rookies would come join them.

It was a lot.

The fans, social media presence, the team briefings and meetings.

There was so much for them, so Lewis, a veteran of it all, made sure they were all getting by.

He and Lando had gotten quite close over the years of the younger man joining the sport. He had supported Lando when the younger man got public over mental health struggles. They had many a conversation in the paddock in regard to it, and how to cope with it.  Even their dads had shared their own tips for coping in the paddock and how to support their children better. 

So, he wasn’t a stranger to ruminating over bad results, and the abuse fans would hurl his way. He grew up being bullied for the color of his skin. He knew better than most people how it would affect someone. 

Which is why he wanted to look out for the younger drivers. 

He wanted to give them the support he never received in the paddock. 

So, yeah, he and Lando got close over the years, and they helped one another and supported each other. He was there when the younger man after Spa and Sochi, and Lando was there for him after Abu Dhabi. They were always there for one another, despite the fans wanting them to hate one another because they are ‘rivals’ and ‘competitors’. 

He first noticed something wrong with Lando during Silverstone. He had seen the defeated look on the younger man, and he looked exhausted. He had been told the man was a little under the weather, but he knew there was something deeper going on. He tried to talk to him, he really did, but he was also celebrating his win with the fans, his family and the team. He trusted McLaren to look out for the younger man, like they did for him all those years ago.

Hungary was a real turning point with Lando. Lewis saw the onboard and even heard the radio to him when he was in his own briefing. He and George had both shared a look, feeling bad for the younger brit. His heart had sunk even further when he heard Oscar apologise on his own radio. They should have never put either of them into this position, trying to play the “team game”. They both deserved better. 

He had sent both of them messages that night. Wanting them both to know it was never their fault for what happened. It was the team, the pitwall that made it so awkward and tense. Oscar had replied. Lando had left him on seen.

He tried to keep an eye on them both, truly he tried. He even got Fernando to keep an extra eye on Lando, as the Spaniard had essentially adopted the younger brit from their days together at McLaren. If he couldn’t rely on the team to be good to Lando, and Oscar, then he could rely on the others. 

Spa was another heartbreak for Lando, and Lewis was drawing blanks at how to support the younger driver. He had messaged him, tried to speak to him in person, but there was something really wrong with him, with his bloodshot eyes, and the bags under them were so prominent even against his tanned skin… and then it was posted all over TikTok that Lando’s grandma had passed, and suddenly it all made sense. He had dedicated his win in Miami to her, he remembered hearing it on the radio. 

Fuck… it explained a lot, and the stress of the season most likely was all weighing heavily on the younger man—he was grieving.

Lewis invited Lando to play golf with him over the summer break. The younger brit was never going to turn down a round of golf.

That was his first real chance to see Lando outside of the circus they live in.

He was peaceful, exhausted, but relaxed. It calmed something within Lewis to see the younger man that carefree and laidback considering all he had been put through. 

“I’m here, Lando,” Lewis had uttered when they hugged after they had finished for the day. Lando had simply squeezed him in thanks in the hug and pulled away, a genuine smile on his face. 

And then it all continued to go downhill. 

Lewis watched from afar as Lando ripped himself to shreds time and time again, to the media, to himself. He had witnessed the younger man fall apart right in front of him, and he had no idea what to do. Neither did anyone else. George tried to help, but he just assumed that the title fight pressure was getting to be a lot, especially since it was his first time ever being in consideration for it. But, they had both seen the hate being sent his way on social media, and they had heard all the boos and comments he would receive in the paddock from fans. But, they also noticed how he and Max interacted less and less, and he hated watching their strong friendship be broken apart. 

Then Brazil happened, and he thought they had gotten past the worst of it, truly. Lewis thought that they’d finally see the happy Lando back. He had seen all the threats sent Lando’s way, people wishing for him to end his life, how he deserved to die. It was disgusting what they were sending him. So, he reached out to Lando, but, the younger man never got back to him, and it worried him. It really did concern him, how much Lando had fallen apart and was now a shell of himself. He had to hear it from Max Fewtrell how Lando was during their break after Brazil, and it shattered his heart hearing the man’s best friend go on about how he didn’t sleep or eat for over twenty hours, and how he eventually passed out from exhaustion and slept solidly for fifteen hours, and it concerned everyone around him at his sudden crash and lack of response, so much so Lando’s parents flew out to Monaco to make sure their son was okay. 

It was at that point that he reached out to Sebastian. 

Sebastian was always praising Lando for how open he was about mental health, and his own struggles. The retired driver definitely had a soft spot for the young brit, hell they all did. 

He had phoned the German, and just ranted. He had to get it all off his chest, and he could tell by the other man’s responses he was worried too. They all were. George had admitted to him that himself, Charles and Alex were all really worried for him. They had even formed a group chat to keep up about him. 

The last thing he had heard was that they were all going to try and talk to him, to try and patch the situation between himself and Max.

He noticed too late.

He was on his way to go congratulate the two McLaren drivers and the rest of the team when he noticed. He still had to go to dinner with his team, so he wasn’t going to stay for too long. Just as he turned up, he spotted Lando. He was stood off to the side from the celebrations, a small smile on his face. His hands were shaking slightly, he gaze never left Oscar and Andrea, he noticed. Lewis took smaller steps, eyes locked onto the older McLaren driver. He watched the Brit move to sit down by the pitwall, and that was when he finally noticed the detached gaze in his eyes. They looked dull, lifeless, like he had nothing more to give. 

It scared him, a lot. 

The boy who once had so much joy and happiness looked distant, and exhausted. He had overheard a conversation between Oscar and Alex that the brit hadn’t been sleeping. 

They had all gone out partying. The season was over, so they could enjoy themselves. Lewis usually wasn’t one to party anymore, but he had agreed to after the dinner with his old team. The party was the same one with McLaren engineers, and so he wasn’t shocked when he saw the two McLaren drivers together. He couldn’t stop laughing as the Brit stumbled his way over to Lewis when he noticed him, and the older man cursed as he suddenly had to hold the weight up of both of them.

“Congratulations, Lando,” Lewis yelled into his ear, and suddenly the drunk man wrapped his arms around him and held him close, squeezing tight.

It felt like he was saying goodbye.

He should’ve reached out the next day, he should’ve tried to go see him. But, he didn’t.

The moment he was back in Monaco he went straight to Lando’s apartment. He couldn’t drag this out anymore. He had to talk to the younger man. He couldn’t get this nagging voice out of his head, and he needed to put it at ease for himself.

Lando didn’t answer the door, and there was a collection of letters and notes under the man’s door. He picked one up, and all the blood drained from his face as he read it:

KILL YOURSELF

They knew where he lived, and they were sending him physical death notes now. 

Lando wasn’t answering the door and people were telling him to kill himself. He needed to see him now. 

He tried to open the door but it was locked, and his heart began hammering away in his chest.

‘God, please let him be safe,’ He kept thinking. 

“LANDO,” He yelled, “OPEN THE DOOR” 

“Fuck” he cursed, he looked around the floor, and lifted the door mat.

Just his luck, there was a spare key for him. 

Thank you god

He unlocked the door and threw it straight open. He didn’t bother to close it behind him. 

“LANDO?” He screamed, running around the flat. 

He stumbled into the kitchen first. On the kitchen table there was a collection of notes. On top was one written to him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” he repeated, trembling. He looked up and began scanning the apartment.

Every door was open, except the bathroom. 

He didn’t bother knocking. 

The smell of iron hit him like a train, and he felt nauseous as he stared at the sight before him. 

Lando was in the tub, unconscious, ghastly pale. There was a razor to his right, and there was a knife floating around in the tub. He ran over to the bath, and pulled his arms out of the water. He gagged as he saw the state of Lando’s arm. 

He took his jumper off, wrapping it tightly around the cuts. He reached for the other arm and took his top off, doing the same thing. He needed to call someone. He needed to call an ambulance, but everything felt fuzzy. None of this felt real. How was any of this real? 

He didn’t remember the phone call with emergency services. He didn’t remember the paramedics arriving. 

What he remembered was the first flatline. The noise of the beep from the monitor. The sound of his ribs breaking from the CPR they performed. The relief he felt when he saw Lando’s heartbeat on the monitor, and the eventual flutter of his eyes a few moments later. He remembered the sheer terror on the man’s face, the humiliation in his eyes as he realised what this all meant. 

Lando never expected for anyone to find him. 

He felt like he was looking through glass as they wheeled Lando off the ambulance and into the emergency room. 

A blanket had been wrapped around his shoulders; when did that happen?— and he was pulled inside by a nurse and led into the waiting room. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about the look on Lando’s face. The embarrassment from being found. He didn’t want to be found. He hadn’t planned on being found.

It made him feel sick.

A bin was placed under his chin, and he threw up. 

His hearing came back sometime later. The nurse hadn’t left his side after he threw up, he realized. 

“Monsieur?” She whispered, and he appreciated how she tried to remain quiet, “are you… okay?”

“Oui,” he mumbled, voice crackling. He nodded his head softly and she stood up, “let us get you some clothes... so you won’t be covered im… all of this”

He didnt even realize he had been covered in blood, Lando’s blood. He looked down at his trousers and hands and they were drenched. 

His hands were still shaking. 

“Lets go,” she said, pulling his arm up gently. Lewis followed behind her without a word. She took him into one of their lounges and gave him a pair of scrubs to change into. He was silent as he changed, and handed her his bloodied bottoms. She put them in a plastic bag and walked out of the room with them. 

Even his phone was covered in blood. 

He sat down on one of the benches in there, resting his elbows on his knees as he scrolled through the contacts in his phone.

He landed on George and pressed call.

“George… it’s-it’s Lando,” he whispered to the Brit, “how-how quickly c-can you… uhm get to the hospital?”

Chapter Text

It was 4:30pm when George received a phone call from an unknown number.

He was busy playing padel with Alex, Max and Daniel when he answered it.

“George,” Lewis began, voice barely above a whisper, “it’s-it’s Lando… how-how quickly c-can you… uhm get to the hospital?”

“I’ll be there in 15” The brit said, and he heard Lewis take a shaky breath, “are you alone?”

“…y-yeah” the other man said after a few moments, “c-can you b-bring me some c-clothes too?”

“Of course,” he said, “I’ll be there soon, okay?”

“Okay,” Lewis said.

Silence shortly followed, but George knew the older man hadn’t hung up, and he wasn’t sure if he should, given the state Lewis seemed to be in. 

Instead, he muted his end and gently pulled the phone away from his ear and put it on speaker. He slowly turned around and saw Max, Daniel and Alex all staring at him. 

“George? You okay?” Alex asked first, seeing the look on George’s face, “who was it on the phone?”

“Lewis,” he said softly, gesturing to the device, “he-he’s at the hospital”

He watched as concern and fear spread across all of their faces. 

“Shit” George heard from his right.

“What happened?” Daniel asked, pulling his phone out.

“Is he okay?” Alex asked, and Max rolled his eyes.

“Clearly not if he’s in the hospital” Max spat out, and Alex sighed.

“It could be a fami—“

“It’s Lando,” He said, his voice hardly above a whisper.

The other three were silent. Staring at him, eyes wide open. 

“…what?” Alex asked, and George felt his own eyes welling up at the sight of the tears in the other man’s eyes.

“He-he didn’t say what happened,” his voice was trembling as he spoke, “but Lando’s in the hospital… it’s bad I think”

A lone tear slid down George’s face and he shakily wiped it away, taking a deep breath. He had a sinking feeling about what had happened, he had seen the changes in Lando, had seen how he fell apart in front of them all and acted like he was fine. 

Max was silent, and pale… very pale. He looked scared and concerned and, honestly, he looked about ready to collapse on the spot.

“Max?” George asked the dutchman, “are-are you okay?”

He looked startled, when George spoke to him.

“I-I need to go” he said, voice barely above a whisper and he bolted. He almost forgot to even grab his bag.

“Max?” Daniel yelled after him, but the dutchman continued to sprint away. 

“Lewis needs us,” Alex said, “We can’t leave him alone there. Max made it clear to Lando that they weren’t friends anymore, so its probably for the best that he’s not there with us”

George nodded in agreement, “you’re right. He made Lando feel like shit, especially after Brazil. Let’s give him some time and ask Lando if he wants to see him”

Daniel opened his mouth to argue, to tell them that Max deserved to see him too, but they weren’t wrong. Max had distanced himself from the younger man, and he knew just how badly it hurt him to. They had been best friends once, grew up together, and Daniel knew how badly Max had wanted to bridge the gap between them, in fact that was why the dutchman had invited them all to play padel, so he could ask George and Alex how to talk to the younger brit and have him actually listen. But, Daniel had also watched Lando fall apart, and how he tried to hide his pain from the media, and how he had heard from Lewis that the younger man was struggling without Max. 

It was all one big fucking mess.

“Lewis is expecting us,’ Daniel eventually said, and the trio packed up their belongings.

They had a plan: Daniel and Alex were going to keep Lewis company, and George was going to get clothes for Lewis, and for Lando, and then meet them at the hospital. 

It took Alex and Daniel ten minutes to make it to the hospital. The nurses all seemed to know why they were there, as they were both silently taken to where Lewis was sat in a private waiting room. He was in scrubs, but they both could clearly see the blood caking the man’s hands, and the way his hands were trembling, and how his legs were jiggling. 

He looked stressed, not to mention he looked ill himself with how pale his face was.

“Lewis,” Daniel started, and the older man’s head shot up from where he had been staring at his hands, “what happened?”

Alex remained silent as they made their way towards him. He didn’t really know how to feel. One of his close friends was in the hospital, and he didn’t even know what happened. 

“He-he tried…” Lewis gasped out, his voice crackling. Alex felt his heart drop as he put it together what Lewis couldn’t say.

“What did he try to do?” Daniel urged, crouching down to be level with Lewis.

“He tried to kill himself?” Alex asked him, “that’s what happened?

Lewis wordlessly nodded his head, and Alex could feel the tears slipping down his face. He bit his lower lip to stop himself breaking down into a sob.

Daniel silently shook with tears as he grabbed onto Lewis’ forearm, holding on tightly. The Aussie sobbed into his hand, and Alex could do nothing to comfort either of them.

They were all grieving. Even if they didn’t know if Lando was dead or not, they were all still grieving the man he used to be. The man who they would most likely never see again, even if he were to live. 

“George is grabbing you some clothes,” Alex explained softly, taking a seat beside him, wrapping an arm around the man’s shoulders, “and then we’re not going to leave you alone”

“Have the doctors said anything to you yet?” Daniel asked, after composing himself just enough to move and sit beside them both. 

Lewis shook his head, “n-not yet”

“Then he’s still alive,” Alex reasoned to them both, “he’s still here, because they would’ve mentioned it by now if he wasn’t… he’s alive.. he has to be alive”