ੈ♡˳ FIVE
promises

GRACE WOULD BE LYING if she said she hadn't dressed for the occasion. over the top of warm winter stockings was a tight, grey and white plaid skirt fastened with a black belt. to keep the rest of her warm, she wore a long-sleeved white woolen top, and a knitted white cardigan over the top. it was warm enough to get her through the air because she didn't plan on being outside for too long, and she also cared more about how she looked rather than the weather.

she'd been restless ever since she left lando at the edge of the jetty. with five hours to kill, grace bounced between listening to music, watching netflix, sketching new ideas and messaging eliza. she desperately needed something to keep her busy in the lead up to four o'clock, but every little thing she did seemed to make time go slower. seeing lando again was one thing, but seeing both him and charlize in the same place after all these years? her chest felt strangely tight.

however, clothes were a free distraction. they were her one constant form of comfort because clothes couldn't leave. they might get stained, ruined, or too small, but they were loyal to who owned them. clothing couldn't leave. after spending an hour picking what to wear as if it were a huge deal — and spending the rest of the time planning other outfits to keep her busy — she waited impatiently outside the front of the hotel she was staying in.

by the time that lando was three minutes late to pick her up and she considered just texting him for the address, she heard the soft rumble of an expensive engine before she saw what car it belonged to. her eyes widened the tiniest bit in excitement at the gorgeous car rolling smoothly down the street . . . until she noticed who the car belonged to, which should have been a telltale sign by the logo on the front.

well versed and tasteful in cars, grace couldn't help the awe she felt when the mclaren 675lt spider with a sleek, carbon blue finish pulled off the road to park along the curb. she knew how to appreciate a good vehicle, and the one that was clearly custom-designed was exactly that. it was a shame about who owned such a beautiful piece of machinery.

the passenger window slowly rolled down. "you're gonna freeze if you stand there any longer."

"i'd be," grace looked down at the watch on her wrist as it sparkled in the afternoon sun, "four minutes warmer if you got here on time."

lando just clicked his tongue. "couldn't find my keys." leaning across with his seatbelt buckled still, he opened the passenger from the inside. grace watched the door open upwards for a moment before she held onto it, climbing into the passenger side and pulling the door closed after her.

on the way in, she noticed that there was some kind of logo on the headrest of his car; his initials to form the number 4. clever. as soon as she settled into the car, she removed the pearly white gloves she had knit by hand, embracing the warmth of the inside of the mclaren. at least he put the heater on. god, she would've preferred to walk than sit in a freezing cold car with lando.

wordlessly, lando checked the blindspot over his right shoulder before pulling back out to merge with the road. the familiarity was back, just as it had surfaced around lando ever since she had arrived in monte carlo. it was a twisted feeling of hot and cold, each warm flush accompanying a cool shiver, each memory drenched in ice sitting under the heat of the sun.

"do you remember your birthday?" he asked suddenly, not sparing her a glance, keeping his eyes solely on the roads he knew better than most. grace fought the urge to cut him off with a 'you certainly didn't' after the five birthdays he had missed. january sixteenth. "your eighteenth?"

nonetheless, she knew what he was talking about. after going out to dinner with their combined families, they'd gone out to meet up with some friends at a reputable club owned by a friend of grace's cousin. "i remember having to get dressed in the tributo," she commented, her gaze fixed on the surroundings out the side window. those dressed warmly with shopping bags, those deciding to go for an afternoon run, and those who dined in at the lovely cafes along the sidewalk. "i hated that outfit."

it had been a time of the tranquility she missed. lando had picked her up from the dinner afterwards in the ferrari f8 tributo, claiming that they were going out for a drive to the cinema to spend the rest of the evening watching some movie she couldn't remember of. their family saw no issue with it and waved them off . . . not expecting them to lie and head out to a club instead.

grace was never a fan of clubs. there were too many people she didn't know, but she was never one to complain. plus, their friends were all waiting for them there, anyway. the classiness of the dinner had disappeared when she got changed out of the chanel, old money outfit she'd worn into the italian restaurant and swapped it for a tight-fitting, short black dress decorated with fluorescent yellow patterning. it wasn't an ugly outfit considering the club's theme that night had been 'fluoro', but grace was never a fan of wearing anything than soft shades — baby blues, pastel pinks, whites and beige and grey. she never had the confidence to wear black or bold colours.

lando remembered it a lot clearer than he wished he did. he'd been sitting in the driver's seat, alternating between scrolling on his phone and making sure no one was walking too close to the car while she was changing. though he did not look at her out of respect and because he had a girlfriend, it wouldn't have mattered if he did anyway. he was no stranger to everything that was her.

"i thought you looked good," he said what she remembered him telling her a million times that night. grace had felt terribly out of place in the dress that lando had picked up for her to wear, and the most he could do was drape his leather jacket around her shoulders in the hopes that it helped her feel more comfortable.

'you look perfectly fine, gracie,' eighteen year old lando had promised her when they got out of the car to walk to the club. 'i think fluoro yellow just might be your colour'. grace had believed it then, even if only for the night, but she hadn't worn anything like that since. she stuck to comfort of colours that made her feel like a diamond in light tones, rather than the mysterious onyx in the dark.

"you shouldn't have," grace's eyes flickered down to her hands, their warm blue turning cloudy grey as she traced the few freckles across her skin. "look what happened."

his hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. he fought desperately against his vocal cords, trying to find the right words to say but never finding anything that he could physically utter. lando had been taught that some things were better left unsaid, and years of attempts at media training had done nothing but drill it into him even more. he let the car fall into silence, a silence that suffocated, and a silence that was unknowing tearing into their heartbroken heartstrings.

EVEN IF IT WERE only for a few moments, grace enjoyed the cool, crisp air that stung her face . . . that was until they walked through the apartment building until they were at charlize's door. the air was gone, and all that was left in its place was the toxic carbon dioxide that seemed to replace the oxygen she couldn't grasp onto.

"you ready?" lando asked her, glancing across at her. he watched grace nod, but he watched her eyes spell out the exact opposite. in a rich blend of grey, anger and anguish had made themselves a home, nestling into the cool confines of her irises. he didn't dwell on it like he would once upon a time, and knocked on the door before them in a pattern he had knocked in his whole life. grace was no stranger to it.

the muffled sound of heels echoed on the other side of the door, and grace and lando shared a look of confusion. oh god, grace hadn't thought this part through entirely. she thinks it's a social call— that her and lando are going to— she was glad to be knocked out of her thoughts when the door was opened to a face that made grace want to be sick.

though she had seen charlize over a year ago, there was something different now in the way she looked at her. knowing now that her and lando had gotten together briefly when in monaco and charlize hadn't opened her mouth to gloat about it made it feel worse. charlize, stood in cherry red high heels, a short white skirt with a red jumper, found lando's eyes straight away as if he were the only one in the corridor.

grace didn't let her get a word in. she pushed past charlize and entered the small apartment, her knee-high boots thudding loudly against the wooden floorboards until she dropped down to sit on the white couch in the open living space. lando leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest while charlize stood frozen.

"lando?" her voice jumbled out into confused chatter, "you— why is— huh?"

"hi, char," grace waved enthusiastically at the girl, the kindest of smiles spread across her face.

turning on her heel, charlize stared at grace with wide eyes, watching as her former friend kicked her shoes up onto the glass coffee table in front of the couch. "wh—why are you . . . why are you here?" she cleared her throat.

"oh," grace nodded slowly with a shrug, "well, i assumed you invited me over. i mean, why would you send a brick through my window if you didn't want to see me?"

"what?" charlize chuckled awkwardly, shifting on her feet. "why would i— i didn't— i didn't—"

"i'll admit that the invitation was a little . . . obscure, but i figured you just wanted to catch up before the ball," grace said nonchalantly. her voice didn't waver once, built strongly on class, charm and a confidence that she strutted around with effortlessly.

in a flurry of blinking, charlize turned to face lando. caught in the middle of an old friend and an ex, she felt cornered in her own home. "lando," she breathed pleadingly, "tell me this is a joke. that grace is just—"

"orange string," he drawled, not moving from his spot against the doorframe. "i thought you said you were over it, charlize."

charlize, realising that lando wasn't going to side with her like she had originally thought, tried a different approach. "you can't blame me for still being a little mad! it's her fault—"

"uh," grace piped up from where she had been listening to the two converse. lando and charlize glanced over at her, lando's eyes tinged in glittered amusement when he saw the blonde getting comfortable in charlize's apartment, flipping through some of the books that were stacked neatly on the coffee table. "it was actually lando's fault, if my memory serves me correct."

"yep," lando nodded definitively. "all my fault," his answers were short, dry. he didn't want to be standing in charlize's apartment, and he sure as hell didn't want to be standing in it with both charlize and grace. that was awkward enough. "so, uh, can you cut the shit and leave grace alone? she got the invite fair and square."

charlize huffed loudly. "you used me," she glared at lando, "to bring this fucking—" she caught herself, fuming. "get out."

"oh," grace sighed loudly, the mock of hurt twisting around her words like poisonous vines. "i thought you wanted to see me. nevermind," she hopped up from the couch, tossing the books haphazardly onto the coffee table in a cluttered mess, knocking an unlit candle onto the floor in the process.

stopping right in front of charlize, grace's eyes turned to stone. lando, who could tell every time a different emotion tumbled into her gaze, could only see one. hatred. the gorgeous blue looked like the storm clouds he would sit out on his balcony and watch roll across the sea whenever the weather took a turn during the off-season. "i'm going to the fitting tonight whether you like it or not," she said, voice low. "i swear, the second i find dirt on you, your career is gonna burn to the fucking ground. don't threaten me ever again."

grace didn't spare her a second glance. she walked straight past charlize and lando, leaving charlize dumbfounded and lando with a grin on his face. "which window did you hit?" he asked charlize, straightened up and stuffing his hands into his pockets. she didn't answer, and that left him with one conclusion. "out of all the windows you could've hit, you chose that one," he shook his head. "nothing's more coldhearted than that, char."

he left charlize behind and followed grace down the hallway.

GRACE hit the button beside the elevator, absentmindedly curling a blonde strand of hair around her finger as she waited what she considered too long to leave the apartment building she never wanted to step foot in ever again.

"grace," lando said carefully, his voice softer than it had been to speak to her since he had first seen her after so long. "the fitting tonight . . ."

"what about it?" grace asked with a shrug. "we're supposed to make sure everything fits the models properly and do any final adjustments."

"i—" lando's words fell silent. he fought an internal battle with himself in whether he should speak or not until the louder part of his brain emerged victorious. "she'll be there, right?"

"yeah," she nodded, "can we not talk about her, please?"

"fine," he agreed, biting the inside of his cheek for a moment. "but i was wondering . . . do you want me there? y'know, just in case she tries something?"

the elevator dinged as the silver doors opened to the luxurious interior. his idea wasn't half bad, she'd give him that . . . but it also meant that she actually had to be in his presence a lot longer than she liked. "alright," she relented, "only if you don't complain about it."

together, they stepped into the elevator, and he reached forward to press the button to the ground floor. "promise," he said casually, "you won't even know i'm there."

x

FOR ONCE, LANDO HAD been right. from the very moment they walked into the location of the dress fittings, she hadn't been interrupted or distracted once by his voice.

they were in a theatre that had been rented out for the night by the staff of the mediterranean purely because it had so many dressing rooms to accommodate many designers and the models assigned to them. with the theatre larger than what you would usually see, grace had no issues with space when it came to about thirty people being in the room to either model or help the models into the dresses.

the only times lando had spoke had been to politely converse with a few of the models who had recognised him, and so it had been smooth sailing. there was no sign of charlize, the dresses were all sitting nicely, and grace was at home comfortably in her element.

except for one tiny issue. well, huge issue.

grace loudly cleared her throat. "has anyone seen valerie?" she called out to the room that had fallen silent as soon as she spoke. she dropped a lime green dress train that she had been fixing down to the floor and picked up the pastel yellow clipboard that held the names of every model and their assigned dress. "you know, the one wearing dress twenty-four?"

a chorus of mumbles echoed around the room as the models looked around to try find valerie. a pit opened up in grace's stomach as she scanned the room, threatening to swallow everything she had worked hard for. the dress, her staple piece of in the bleak midwinter, needed to be perfect otherwise it could all go so horribly wrong on valentine's day. and the worst part? no two models had the same measurements. some were close, but in the range of diverse models she had to work with, everyone was a different size.

"i think she said she's sick," a woman with strawberry curls spoke up. "she said she'd be fine by the ball, though."

"fuck, fuck, fuck," grace threw the clipboard down to the side and wrung her hands together tightly as she fell back into the plush chair she had been sitting in earlier. it can't go wrong now, she panicked, and the room became so much more crowded than it did before. the noises were louder and deafening, the lights were shining too bright, the walls were closing in and—

"grace."

lando's voice sliced through her panic. he moved from his chair to kneel down in front of her, his hands on the armrests of her chair. "grace," he said again, his voice so much quieter than the chatter but it seemed so much louder. "c'mon, this is fixable."

"leave me alone," she shook her head, her hair spilling down over her shoulders. "i need to think."

"we both know that won't help," he tried again, his voice firmer. "listen to me." unwillingly, she gave in, meeting his gaze of green. in her panicked state, she couldn't read his eyes; couldn't read the mild concern that sparkled under the bright artificial lights. "is there anyone that can fit that dress?"

"no," she dug her fingernails into the back of her hand again, a terrible habit that had never seemed to die. lando noticed, but instead of doing something like he once might have, he gripped the armrests tighter. "it has to fit perfectly or— or—"

he watched her take a shaky breath. "can . . ." his eyes flickered up to the ceiling for a moment, "can you fit it?"

grace was caught so off guard that she let turned away from him to choke out a cough. "can i—?"

"answer the question," he met her gaze again, tone more demanding, but his eyes were still decently soft. it was strange, and she hated it. hated him.

"i can," she nodded, blinking away the blurry gloss covering her eyesight. "we're the same size."

"grace, i want you to go put the dress on for me," his voice returned to what it had been before to try soothe her anxiety. "i'll ask everyone to get changed and leave if it helps."

lando knew better than anyone else. she knew that he knew that. he knew she was always the one behind the scenes, the one who would rather be behind the camera than in front of it. in her early days of designing, she would never accompany who she had just styled out in front of any camera because she was more comfortable behind the scenes. she thrived in the background where the only pressure she had to worry about was coming from herself, not the hundreds of articles and social media posts. it seemed that, even after all these years, that hadn't changed.

"promise me you'll get them all to leave," she said in almost a whisper. she couldn't meet his eyes in fear that she'd be that naive eighteen year old again.

"i promise." lando backed away from her, standing back up as she moved past him without another word to pick up dress twenty-four from the rack.

GRACE, riddled with anxiety, stepped behind the thick red curtain.

she had the hands of a designer — fingers littered with miniscule needle wounds and hands so steady they could rival a surgeon. so when her hands started to rapidly shake as she unzipped the garment bag, she knew she was in trouble.

soon enough, she was met with only silence as she carefully stepped into the dress, pulling it up until she could feel the corset top tighten around her midsection, flattering the top half of her body while the near-transparent skirt flared out around her. "okay," she whispered, staring at the brick wall in front of her, too scared to glance down at herself and instead just working the dress by feel. the delicate sleeves cradled her arms majestically as it flowed down her wrists like falling snow; the skirt felt airy and light as if there were barely one there at all. it didn't feel right to be wearing such an outfit, even though she spent weeks slaving over it until it was perfect.

grace designed the dresses. she never wore them. this was the first time she had ever worn one of her own creations, and it just so happened to be the piece that meant the world to her, the piece that she was letting her whole career ride on.

with a deep breath, she called out, "is everyone gone?"

"everyone but me," lando called back. that's the problem, she thought, biting the inside of her cheek as she clenched and unclenched her fists, flexing her fingers in between.

taking one last deep breath to calm her anxiety, she pulled back the red curtain and stepped back out into the main section of the dressing room. the dressing room that was filled to the brim with bright lights, large mirrors, and lando norris.

lando looked up from his phone as soon as he heard the rungs on the curtain rattle against the rod. the second he did, he clicked his phone off, dropping it down onto his lap. he didn't know where to look first, jade eyes raking over every single inch of her in nothing but wonder.

his mouth moved before his brain did, saying the one thing he knew would break out the internal battle into his head until a migraine formed. "gracie . . ."

x

notes !

woah.