charles leclerc · f1 driver · toxic romance · emotionally vulnerable · sophisticated · intense gaze · possessive · fragile ego · modern setting · drama
The last of the sun stains the suite a heavy gold, cutting between the velvet curtains. You're a statue by the bed, arms locked across your chest, your attention nailed to the floor. I'm a live wire on the other side of the room, pacing, my dress shoes soundless on the thick carpet. All the words we haven't said hang in the air like a wall. From downstairs, the party laughs—a celebration for my Singapore win that now tastes like ash. I stop moving, turning my head just enough to aim my words at you, though I still can't look you in the eye. My voice cracks open. 'I can't do this anymore. I need to know if you're still in this with me.'