Chapter Text
The loverless nights, they seem so long
I know that I’ll hold you someday.
But till you come back where you belong
It’s just another lonely Sunday…
(Hurts: Sunday)
“Do you need anything else?”, Jon asked while he was packing his stuff up. “Something from the store, medicines, or anything from upstairs?” - whereupon Lando, still lying on the yoga mat on the floor, just shook his head.
“Nah, I’m good, thanks”, the younger one answered with his eyes closed, feeling the familiar burning of a productive workout in his muscles. He granted himself another two seconds to catch his breath, before he opened his eyes again and forcefully sat back up, giving his trainer his most confident look. “I’ll get along!”
With a well-aimed grip, he reached and angled for his crutches that were leaning against the couch, and pulled them towards himself in order to get back up from the mat again, where they’d just done some exercises for his torso and the leg that was not in a thick cast - cause, according to Jon, training never stops, even when you’re an injured professional athlete. And unfortunately, the doctors in the hospital had all agreed with him on that regard and had reassured Lando that it was indeed okay and even beneficial for the healing process to stay active, also beyond the mandatory medical gymnastics-
What had been music to the ears of his performance coach, who had still in the hospital proudly presented him the adjusted training schedule, which consisted only of exercises that you could do while sitting or even lying down and that you didn’t need both legs for. Much to Lando’s chagrin, that had still been a lot - including the hated neck-training, of course. But well, most likely Jon would never let him skip that, or at least not as long as he wasn’t in a full-body-cast.
But as much as the younger one sometimes despised him for this typical unwavering motivation that every fitness trainer somehow was capable of, and for how he relentlessly continued to torture him with all these workouts even now that he was an invalide, he knew that it was for his own good - namely to prepare him for his return to F1!
According to the doctors’ prognosis, with a little luck and if the broken bone was healing well, he could already be back on the grid again right after the summer break - and that was already in ten weeks! Time was flying!
So despite his inner disapproval, Lando knew that it was important to stay fit, having broken his left leg or not - to stay fit and to get back to his feet again, in the literal sense of the word, which was his cue to finally get up from the yoga mat again.
However, even after almost three weeks after the injury and a good ten days of walking on crutches, the young Briton still wasn’t completely used to the heavy cast and the shift that it meant for his centre of gravity, let alone how much more difficult it made things when you could only use one leg - which, together with his general clumsiness and the exhaustion from the workout, wasn’t the best of combinations.
So it happened what had been bound to happen: When Lando had propped himself up on the walking aid and wanted to reach down to pick up his yoga mat, too, he somehow lost balance and would have almost plunged to the ground again - if Jon hadn’t luckily been on the scene and managed to grab hold of him just in time:
“Careful!”, he reflexively called out, followed by a breathless “Ouff!” as the younger one crashed into his arms - who, in turns, didn’t even know what was going on in the first moment:
“Whoops…!”, it just slipped off his tongue when he so unexpectedly found himself in his trainer’s grasp all of a sudden, only realising with a little delay what had just happened - cause wow, despite the usually super quick reflexes of a F1-driver, he had not seen that coming…!
So no wonder that, while he was (still a bit puzzled) trying to re-sort his limbs, he could already feel Jon’s sceptic look at the back of his head - and really:
“You sure?”, his trainer asked from behind already in the next second as he helped him back to his feet again (or foot, more like it) and handed him the one crutch back that he’d accidentally dropped in the shock-moment.
It were only two words, but it was obvious at what Jon was hinting: Namely wether Lando was sure that he could really stay alone in his current condition, given that he could barely make one step on his own without potentially injuring himself even more.
And although he couldn’t deny that this almost-incident had quite scared him, too - his heart was still racing faster in his chest than during the whole workout! -, Lando did not at all like the direction that this conversation was taking, so he hurried to nod with a “yeah, yeah” as soon as he was standing again.
However, Jon did not really look convinced when he turned around to him on his crutches - causing Lando to let out a little sigh. “Seriously, I’m- I’m gonna be good. I will just refresh myself and put on some more comfy clothes and then I’ll spend the rest of the day here”, he affirmed and pointed towards the couch with one crutch. “No danger whatsoever.”
And that was really his plan, cause injured or not, it was Sunday after all - race Sunday. The Sunday of the French Grand Prix.
And although it still bothered him massively that he couldn’t take part in it himself for obvious reasons, he nevertheless didn’t want to miss today’s race at any cost. And so, his only plan for today aside from the mandatory training-session with Jon was slouching on the sofa and enjoying some (hopefully) fancy racing - well, not that there was much else he could have done in his condition at the moment… - but apparently, even this plan sounded dangerous in Jon’s ears:
“Do you need any help with that?”, he’d asked, with his sculptured brows critically furrowed. “With…?”
Instead of actually finishing the sentence, he only gestured vaguely into his protégée’s direction, up and down his body, so it only dawned on the young racer with a split second of delay what his trainer was referring to - but as he got it, his reply came full of indignation and quick as a shot:
“NO!”, he’d downright shouted back, not only too loud, but also quite harsh in view of who he was talking to here - but hey, after he’d lost almost all of his dignity already in the hospital, where he’d had to strictly keep to the bed for the first days after surgery and had needed assistance with pretty much everything, he was not - repeating! - NOT at all keen on adding his trainer to the list of people who he’d recently embarrassed himself in front of, by having Jon help him freshen up and change - not on earth! Rather would he stay in this sweaty sports-shirt until the damn cast was off!
However, because he in the next second really felt bad for having shouted at him like that, given that Jon had only meant to be of help, Lando forced himself to gulp down his initial disapproval and take a deep breath, before he added a much calmer: “No, thanks, but- I’ll get along.”
And to emphasize his words, he nodded to them as confidently as he could, putting on a faithful face.
He didn’t know wether he’d really looked so convincing or if Jon only had pity with him and didn’t want to force himself on him, or wether he was actually very glad about him saying no, too, as the situation would have probably not been too pleasant for him either - but for one reason or the other (and much to Lando’s own surprise!), his trainer didn’t issue any further protest:
“Alright”, he just said. “But please be careful, will you?”
But before the younger one even had the chance to tell him that yes, he would take care, of course he would, because he certainly wasn’t keen on injuring himself any more either - Jon was already holding him a lecture on what exactly that all included for him:
“If you need anything from upstairs, please just call, no matter if me or Sacha or Max, your brother or whoever- and if it’s not urgent, then wait for your parents to come back. But please, please for God’s sake - don’t walk up there yourself, okay?” - with an unspoken ‘We’ve just seen where this would lead!’ resonating with his words. “And don’t forget to take your meds on time!”
Latest by then, Lando couldn’t help but roll his eyes.
“Yes, dad”, he groaned and shot his trainer a reproachful look. If it hadn’t been for the crutches (and that he had not just almost fallen over only seconds ago…!), he would have loved to box him against the arm now for that comment - but so his indignant mimics had to do. “Seriously, Jon, I’m not your child!”
The older one just let out a laugh, though. “Ha, luckily so! If you were, I’m sure I would have already gone crazy by now!”
“Yeah, because you just can’t handle how freaking awesome I am!”, Lando countered quick as a shot, and with a facial expression that was perhaps a little too cocky for someone who’d just almost face-planted himself - but Jon just laughed again:
“Yeah, whatever!”, he went, before he turned back to his gym bag and, with a few quick moves, packed in the last torture- …uhm, training supplies. Kindly, he also rolled up the yoga-mat for Lando (…but that had probably more to do with that he didn’t want the younger one to undertake another attempt at stowing it away himself when he was gone and to hurt himself even worse thereby!), then he was actually good to go - or well, almost, at least:
Because when the two of them had made their way to the front door - with Jon walking ahead and Lando limping after him on his crutches -, the performance coach couldn’t resist to once more give him the look when he said goodbye:
“Alright, see you on Tuesday then. And be good!”
He even pointed his finger at him in a warning manner.
And although Lando was aware that his trainer only meant well with him and that his overly worries were most likely only an expression of how much he cared about him, for more than just the salary check at the end of the month, the young Briton could nonetheless only hardly suppress another sigh in response.
He already had another cheeky comment at the tip of his tongue, but he decided to rather swallow it down in the last second and instead just shifted his weight to the good side instead, so that he could raise a hand for a demonstrative wave.
“Bye, Ja-hoon!”, he farewelled the older one in his sweetest choirboy-voice, absolutely on purpose annoying him with this stupid nickname that he well-knew Jon disliked so much - but in this moment, all means were right to him to just end this talk; and luckily, his strategy worked:
His trainer just rolled his eyes and shook his head over the old joke, as if he couldn’t believe that his protégée still hadn’t grown tired of it yet, but he actually turned around and walked off.
Standing in the front door, Lando watched him get in his car and waited until he’d started and turned the freshly washed Ford around, then Lando pressed the respective button on the control panel to open the gate at the end of his driveway for him.
He waved again as Jon drove by and waited until he was out through the gates, then he pressed the other button to make them close again, before he hobbled back in to the house and shut the door - and, for the first time since his accident, was alone.
Like - thoroughly alone.
Ever since he’d managed to stumble and trip on that damn stairs leading down from the simulator at the MTC, he hadn’t been on his own for more than a matter of minutes. No matter wether it had been Charlotte and Jon, who’d been the first to rush to his side and had also accompanied him to the A&E, or all the doctors and nurses, or his parents of course, who’d immediately jumped into the car and come to Woking as well when they’d got the news of their son’s unfortunate mishap - but there had normally been at least one person around him. Most often even more, speaking of bedside-visitors for while he’d been in the hospital.
But also after his release, his mum had kept him company and had stayed with him at his place, to help him out a little with the laundry, cleaning, doing groceries and pretty much everything else around the house, as she had suggested - which Lando had very much appreciated, because with the cast, even the simplest tasks of housework were quite a challenge indeed.
Okay, not that he was very good at most of it anyway, already for the reason that he was spending more than half of his year abroad and in hotels for his job, where he just didn’t have to worry about anything like that himself - but with his current handicap, it had surely not become easier.
So the helping hands of his mother had been very welcome to him, even if he had a feeling that it had not only been the helping-aspect alone that had made her make this offer in the first place - even more did he feel like she’d just been too scared that he might break the other leg as well if she wouldn’t keep an eye on him.
Cause as this incident had once more shown, maternal care did not simply stop when the children were suddenly out of the house and all “grown-up”; especially not when it was your second-oldest, who had for so long looked as if he was your youngest, in this hospital-bed, and who you’d had to worry about already often enough because of his dangerous hobby…!
After the many shock moments of his admittedly pretty scary, but luckily all harmless crashes so far, Lando suspected that this tumble down the stairs had just been one scare too much for his poor mother’s heart - probably also influenced by the unexpectedness of the whole incident, as it had happened on a Wednesday in an off-week and therefore nowhere near the time-span in which her subconscious mind might be ‘reckoning’ with getting such a call.
Therefore it was no wonder that, right from when she had arrived at his hospital bed, Cisca Norris had switched into full-mother-hen-mode and had been more protective of him than Lando had ever experienced before, barely leaving his side for anything.
And even in the last days at home, she had taken extra-good care of him, always making sure that he was neither hungry nor in pain, that he was sitting comfortably and propped his leg up often just like the doctors had prescribed, that he was drinking enough and got some fresh air and so on and so on.
But even if it at times had been a bit too well-meant and Lando had to remind her a few times with a sometimes more, sometimes less annoyed “Mum…!” that he was not a kid anymore and neither on the verge of death, he nonetheless had been very grateful that she’d been here; and not only because of the housework or that she drove him to his follow-up appointments at the doctor’s.
No, if it had been only about that, he could have just employed someone, but actually, he was glad to not have a stranger around the house. After a week in the hospital with so many changing faces in the staff, his introverted brain just wanted to have some familiarity and calm again. And is there a more familiar and trusted person in the world than your own mum?
Also because, let’s be honest: No matter how old you are, when you’re sick, it’s just nice to receive the comfort and care that only your parents can give.
And also in the view of how little time Lando, through the stodged schedule of F1, normally got to spend with his family in general, he had quite enjoyed these unexpected days with his mum; and most likely, she had been just as glad about him agreeing to it - again, speaking of keeping an eye on him and stuff.
She had only left this morning, only minutes before Jon had come, in order to drive back to Glastonbury - albeit much later than initially planned.
Not that they had overslept or anything (…which could have been probable, since Lando for once didn’t need to set the alarm for himself at the moment) - no, they had both been up and even had had breakfast together already and her bags had been standing in the hallway all packed. But there had been just so many things that she “only just quickly” wanted to do or re-check around the house before she left, that she had ended up running horribly late.
Obviously only with the best intentions for him, but when it had been almost 10am instead of 8:30, when she had originally wanted to leave, Lando had had to step - pardon - hobble in, because he knew probably better than most people that planes were some moody creatures and you shouldn’t let them wait too long. And especially this one should they not miss, because his parents were not going just anywhere, but were accompanying his sister Flo to the US, where she was representing England in a worldwide equestrian junior competition.
Of course his mum had offered multiple times to stay longer with him if he needed her help or would just be more comfortable with someone around, just in case-
But Lando knew how much their parents’ support meant to Flo and also how much they on the other hand had already been looking forward to going with her and spending a little vacation in the US; which was why he’d declined said offer and had, with kindness, shoved his mum over the doorstep this morning.
Apropos - still standing in his hallway, the young Briton reflexively reached into the pocket of his sports shorts for his phone, to check if she had maybe meanwhile texted him (…which he also managed to do without losing balance again, wohooo, success!) - but much to his concern, there were no new messages.
A little sigh escaped his lips.
He really hoped that she had made it home in time and that they could catch their flight without too much stress. He’d feel so bad if they had to hurry and run, or might even miss the plane just because of him - argh, no, he didn’t even want to think about that…!
He hated being a burden to anyone, and even if no-one in his family had ever given him that impression over the last three weeks, he still couldn’t help but feel like one in his current state - which was why he’d also strictly turned down his mum’s idea that Cisca or Olli could come over and stay with him for while she was away on the other side of the big pond:
Cause without doubt, his youngest sister was quite happy to have the house to herself for once, which, as he could confirm from when he himself still used to live at home too, does not happen too often when you are one of four children and your parents work from home, and especially not for her as the nestling - well, and Olli was surely not wild about playing the baby-sitter either, when he on the other hand could spend some time with his girlfriend, who had just returned from a longer business trip.
And even if his mum had reaffirmed him that it’d be no trouble and he also did not think that his siblings would seriously protest if she ordered them to come here (…as a mother of four, she was naturally quite assertive!), he still didn’t want to ruin their plans - like, just because he’d been stupid enough to trip and fall on the simulator stairs…!
Involuntarily reminded about the exact details of his mishap, Lando felt a shiver of embarrassment run down his back, together with the growing bewilderment over his own clumsiness: Heck, he was a professional racing driver, he was risking his life and physical integrity on a regular basis for his job - and he had broken his leg because he’d missed a step in the dim lighting conditions of the sim room, seriously?!
That was really a shame that had no equal…
Not that having a broken bone alone already sucked (and hurt!) enough, but couldn’t he have sustained his injury in a… cooler way? Something that was suitable for his profession at least, like a spectacular accident on track or something? With multiple rollovers and sparks and stuff, and with the car being a total wreckage afterwards, but with him climbing out of it on his own, emerging from the stilling dust like in a trailer of a new Marvel movie, refusing any helping hands and even slacking the fire on the rear by himself by casually grabbing the next fire extinguisher, while the paramedics are urging him to please just come to the ambulance with them, because his leg looked horrible, but he would just wave them off all cool and would continue to put out the fire first-
…okay, maybe he got a little carried away by his fantasy with that one, but- yeah.
Even if the team had issued a press statement that only vaguely said that he ‘broke his shinbone while preparing for a race’, so that the public didn’t know about the detailed circumstances, he was still struggling with it. The story behind his injury was just the most embarrassing of all time, and it made him feel only more miserable than already.
…which was probably another reason why didn’t want his siblings to come over and stay with him for while his mum was away: If the cast had been the consequence of a racing accident, it would have felt way more acceptable for him - occupational risk and stuff! -, but like this, he just didn’t want them to suffer from the aftermath of his stupidity, too, or at least not more than already.
For his liking, he’d kept his friends and family busy already enough over the past few weeks anyway (and be it only for how they’d all checked on him so often, no matter wether in person or via phone calls to his hospital bed); and although Lando kind of was aware that no-one would hold it against him - because actually, that’s just what friends and family were there for, right? -, he still thought that it was about time to give them a break.
It was without question that he would have to accept further help again at some point until the cast would be off, but he was determined to get along on his own for those two weeks. Maybe also to prove to the others that he was not a total failure, but could actually handle things on his own without creating a huge disaster.
And actually, the odds therefore were quite in his favour:
Only just yesterday, his mum had done the shopping for him and had restocked the most important supplies - like toothpaste, shower gel, toilet paper and all such cannot-go-without-stuff, plus some fresh bread, fruits and vegetables, and even some car magazines for him to browse through - as well as a box of these wickedly sugary cookies that he’d used to love when he was younger and that, as she had told him with a wink, Jon didn’t need to know about.
(And oh, Lando was definitely not planning to let them survive long enough for his trainer to discover them. Preparing for his comeback or not, he deserved some soul-food in his state, and especially after the torture-work-out of today…!)
Furthermore, thanks to the food-subscription-service for athletes that Jon had recommended to him early in their cooperation, there was also a week of all pre-cooked and neatly packed meals waiting in his fridge, that he only had to warm up. With his own (to put it mildly) rather poor cooking skills, he had never regretted his subscription before either, but right now, it was definitely paying off. Using the microwave was still within his realms of possibility after all, even on crutches.
And to ease the rest, his mum had also brought his most necessities downstairs, so that he didn’t even have to climb the stairs, and had set the guestroom up for him - which was a bit weird, sleeping in his own guestroom and using the smaller bathroom there, but it was certainly better than dragging himself up the whole stairway into the first floor, especially when he was alone now…!
So all in all, Lando thought that everything sounded pretty neat so far, didn’t it? By all means manageable. No need at all for brotherly or sisterly supervision!
Plus, he knew that as a last resort, he could still call someone - Max, for example, or Sacha, or even Jon, who had also repeatedly stressed that he could reach out to him anytime if he needed help with something all of a sudden, since the physio didn’t live too far away. And Max and Sacha wouldn’t need much longer than twenty minutes either to get into their cars and to his place if he should ask them to come.
Which was in fact very calming to know for the worst case, but Lando nevertheless didn’t want to draw on this unless it was really necessary - like, not unless there wasn’t a giant spider sitting between him and his crutches, or when the boiler for warm water would give up and someone would have to go into the basement to check or whatever.
Only when he really couldn’t solve it himself.
Because apart from his ever-growing guilty conscience, there was also this other part in him that was actually even looking forward to getting to spend some time on his own again - as much as he loved his mother and was grateful for her help, he was an introvert after all. Constantly being surrounded by people on the job was one thing, but having someone with you in the house all of a sudden for two weeks straight, after only having lived here alone before, was a different story.
So, no, as long as it could be avoided, he really wouldn’t call anyone over. It wasn’t only his dear ones who could use a break by now…! After those last turbulent weeks, he just wanted to spend a lazy Sunday on his own and get some rest, and in view of all the preparations, he was also confident that he could do this.
He would totally get along. Of course he would! Why not, even?
He was a grown-up in his own house after all, broken bone and cast or not - and as such, he would enjoy a nice, relaxing Sunday now! Chaka!
And as the first step to put this plan into practice, he got going (…well, hobbling) again, setting off into the direction of the bathroom, in order to freshen up and change.