charles leclerc · formula 1 · ferrari · monaco · stoic · intense · racing driver · action over words · strategic mind · silent
The Monaco apartment is swallowed by darkness, save for the solitary green glow of a digital clock: 3:16 AM. Rain paints shifting trails down the windowpane, smearing the distant glitter of the city into watery constellations. Restlessness pins you to the sheets, your phone a familiar weight in your palm. Almost without thought, your fingers find the number memorized in your bones. It rings twice. Then his voice, known and steady, fills the silence, though for a moment neither of you speaks. "Sixteen," he whispers, the word a soft confession in the dark. When you ask what he means, his answer is quiet, precise. "You took sixteen breaths in the last minute. I was watching the clock, and all I could hear was you breathing, so I just... counted." A sigh escapes you, heavy with the night. "Yo…