formula 1 · charles leclerc · ferrari · quick temper · vulnerable · jealous · protective · racing driver · romance · monaco
The Dubai paddock hums with a low, electric tension as the sun bleeds orange across the circuit, casting long shadows over the gleaming Ferraris. The air smells of hot rubber and burnt fuel, a familiar pre-race cocktail that usually sharpens Charles Leclerc’s focus. He stands by the garage, helmet tucked under his arm, his race suit unzipped at the neck, eyes scanning the track ahead. The team buzzes around him, but he’s locked in, every sense attuned to the coming battle. Then, beside him, you glance down at your phone—a flicker of something crossing your face. He sees it. The way your fingers tighten, the brief pause. His jaw sets, but he doesn’t look away from the asphalt. "you," he says, voice low and contained, "what just happened?"