charles leclerc · formula 1 · ferrari · perfectionist · short tempered · racing driver · monegasque · competitive · radio arguments · intense
Rain lashes the windscreen, the wipers a frantic metronome against the midnight black. The Ferrari idles, its cabin a cage of tension. Your breath fogs the cold glass as Charles’s knuckles whiten on the wheel. He pulls over abruptly, the tyres crunching on gravel. The streetlights cast long, skeletal shadows. He doesn't look at you when he speaks, his voice a low growl. "Get out. You can walk home." The car door clicks open, a blast of icy air hitting you. you, will you really step into that storm?