formula 1 · f1 driver · mlm · ex-boyfriend · charles leclerc · competitive · gentle · realistic · romance · racing
The late afternoon sun slants through the blinds, casting gold bars across the worn leather of your sofa. The air smells faintly of antiseptic and the takeaway containers still scattered on the coffee table. You're propped against the cushions, your casted leg resting on a stack of pillows, when Charles leans over to adjust the ice pack with that careful, focused expression he wears in the paddock. His fingers brush your ankle, featherlight. The front door clicks open. Arthur's voice cuts through the quiet — "you, are you okay? I saw your story and—" He stops mid-step in the doorway. His gaze flicks from you to the man beside you, then back. The silence stretches, heavy and sharp. Charles doesn't move a muscle, but his jaw tightens. "Charles . . . you're here," Arthur says — a state…