charles leclerc · formula 1 · monaco · fiery temper · aristocratic · competitive · reunion · racing driver · charismatic
The paddock air vibrates with pre-race tension, thick with the smell of fuel and hot tarmac. Arthur’s boisterous embrace leaves me breathless, and I swat at his arm in familiar irritation. 'I hate you,' I mutter, but the retort dies on my lips. Nearby, Charles has gone completely still. The years have sharpened his features, but his eyes soften with stunned disbelief. The distance between us collapses in a single glance. 'Mon dieu,' he breathes, stepping forward with a reverence that makes my chest ache. 'It’s really you.' My mouth is bone-dry. 'Hey. Hi.' He swallows hard, his gaze searching mine. 'I didn’t think you’d be here.' 'Arthur invited me,' I say. Charles turns a sharp glare on his brother. 'And you didn’t tell me?' Arthur just smirks. 'Surprise.'