Chapter 7

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Lando's eyes fluttered open as he was pulled out of his deep sleep, the sound of Max and Charles rushing around the house booming through the spare bedroom as they frantically tidied the house to get ready for Christmas Eve.

With a reluctant groan, Lando begrudgingly lifted his head from the pillow, his headache subsiding after spending the previous day curled up in Charles' spare bedroom, wallowing in self-pity. His hand emerged from beneath the warm blanket, darting out to grab his phone, a shiver coursing through him as the cold air met his skin. He retreated back within the blanket, checked his phone, and frowned when he saw no new messages from Oscar.

After Lando abandoned the party —after Oscar had abandoned him— he had woken up the next morning to messages sent from the Aussie at 4am, begging him to return home. The messages continued all the way into the next day, pleading with him and making promises to tell him what happened. Lando ignored them all, swiping them off his phone after staring at them each for a few minutes.

It gave him some sick satisfaction, knowing Oscar was grovelling and Lando hadn't given in to the attempts, no matter how tempting it was. Except, the grovelling already stopped and now he found himself feeling miserable all over again.

It was now Christmas Eve and Lando still hadn't returned home, spending the last two nights at Charles' place. The Monegasque voiced that he was more than happy to accommodate Lando the past two nights while he figured out what to do with himself. He felt guilty for interrupting his time with Arthur and Max, but how was he supposed to return home after that?

He heard the sound of footsteps coming closer and he shifted until his body was fully submerged beneath the blanket, entrapped in the heat. The door swung upon with a slight crack and Lando wrapped himself up tightly in the blanket.

"Come on, get out of bed before I drag you by your ankles." Charles' accented voice burst through the silence Lando had come to love. He mentally cursed to himself, refusing to move a muscle. "I know you're awake, you need to get up today."

"I don't need to get up, I can stay in bed all day again." Lando protested with a whine.

"No you can't, because I won't let you. Get up and have some breakfast. Then, we're talking about what you're going to do from here."

"I don't wanna talk about it, Charles." Lando responded with a miserable voice, his grip on the blanket around him loosening as he thought about the night of the party.

Yesterday, they left him alone to drown in his sorrow, only entering the room to check on him and bring him food. Lando had tried desperately to eat, but he could only stomach a few bites of each meal they brought, even only having a couple of sips of water despite the mind-curdling hangover he had.

He couldn't find it in himself to do anything, the motivation to move or continue with anything left his body the moment Oscar chose to leave him there. Everything inside him slumped and came to a halt, feeling trapped in his own body and mind.

Charles' hands entered the blanket at the bottom of the bed and gripped onto Lando's ankles, yanking him down the bed as he let out a loud yelp. The blanket was suddenly flung off his body and on the floor, the ceiling light blinding him with a hiss. Charles stood over him with his hands on his hands, tapping his foot. "You will eat your breakfast, and then we'll talk about what you're doing. Got it?"

Lando cursed to himself and sat upright, his muscles aching as he dragged himself up. "Got it."

"Good." Charles smiled and went to walk out the room, hesitating as he reached the doorway. "Go shower, you stink, breakfast can wait."

"I've just had my heart broken, fuck you! I'm allowed to stink!" Lando shouted after Charles, who strutted away without a care. As annoyed as he was, he knew it was Charles' way of caring for him and making sure he looked after himself.

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