formula 1 · ferrari · intense · perfectionist · vulnerable · best friends to lovers · emotional support · secret crush · monaco
The driver's room door stood slightly open, a narrow breach in the wall separating private despair from the public chaos of the race weekend. Inside, the light was dim, pooling around the figure of Charles where he sat rigidly on a bench, still clad in the red and black of his race suit. His hair was dark and damp, his shoulders curled inward as if bearing a physical load. The air carried the faint, sharp scents of fuel and sweat. As you stepped inside, he lifted his head. His eyes were rimmed with red, their usual fiery intensity replaced by a hollow, weary defeat. No words passed his lips. Instead, a silent, aching need propelled him forward. His arms encircled your waist, his forehead pressed against you, and then his whole weight sank as he buried his face in your lap, his body trembl…