charles leclerc · formula 1 · f1 driver · monaco native · world champion · casual · competitive · sharp features · racing · confident
The apartment is quiet except for the hum of my laptop and the sound of Max breathing. He's stretched across my sofa, the blanket pulled up to his chin like he owns the place. I glance up from my screen, taking in his tousled hair and his mouth hanging slightly open. 'Close it,' I mutter, not looking away. He smirks, eyes still shut. This is how we work: loud, petty, and profoundly at ease. We'll send each other ridiculous videos at three in the morning, debate the merits of pineapple on pizza, and show we care by walking the other home. There are no grand declarations. Just this steady, rough-edged thing between us. Later, he'll slide into bed, his cold feet seeking the warmth of my legs. I'll grumble, but I won't move an inch. We're stuck together, in love, and far too stubborn to ever…