ain't love; formula one imagines

charles leclerc ; friends

a/n: idk something abt this feels off - i like it but then i hate but then i like it again but then it feels ooc but then its like i dont actually know this dude... its too much.... anyway here's ur daily dose of white boy material <3 *mwah* 

☾

At first, they were only little things. And, of course, it probably shouldn't have begun that way to start with. But things happen as we all know. Gazes lingered; touches longed after; boundaries were crossed. 

"What's wrong?" Charles asked, taking a sip of his iced coffee. You stared into his glasses, almost in an attempt to hide what he was thinking. Looking at your reflection, you realized how easy it must have been to read instead. 

You cleared your throat. "Nothing," you replied, before lifting your own drink and swallowing the rest. "Just..."

"'Just...'?" Charles said, trying to get you to speak. You weren't often closed off about your feelings or thoughts, but this was just one thing you weren't wanting to talk about - ever, in fact. 

Sighing, you rambled your thoughts to get a clear answer. "Dunno, I guess." You paused. "Thinking about life, I suppose."

Charles leaned back in his chair, humming. He bought his fingertips together, furrowing his eyebrows as if to look deep in thought. "You're upset about your ex still, huh?" He asked. To be fair, you hadn't thought about your ex since you broke up with him over a month ago - he had constantly speculated about your relationship with Charles, though you had, again and again, attempted to explain it all away. Not even the 'I love you's would work. 

"Yeah," you mumbled. "Something like that." 

Charles leaned back forward, resting his elbows on the table. He shifted his legs in the process, one of his knees bumping into yours and sitting there. You held your breath internally. There it is again - one of those small things. 

"You done?" Charles asked, pointing to your drink.

"Ah, yeah," you replied, pushing the glass to the side. "It was alright - a bit too sweet for the morning." The two of you normally put one day of the month aside to have a full catch-up at a local cafe - there's only so much that phone calls and social media can do to help to explain everything. "How's yours?"

"Pretty good, actually." He smiled, pushing the drink towards you. "Try." He said. Again. Something so small and innocent about sharing a drink with your friend, but somehow so intimate and sensual all at once. And you knew it wasn't a question of whether you wanted to have some - he wanted you to have some - to drink from the same glass as you. 

You shrugged as if to act nonchalant about the situation, though internally you were wanting to shake away your thoughts. 'We're friends.' you told yourself. 'Friends do things like this.' Right? You take the drink and bring it to your lips, eyes darting to Charles' who is still hiding behind his sunglasses. You finally swallow the drink. 

☾

A few weeks go by and you tried to forget about the moment, keeping yourself productive to do anything but think about Charles or the cafe. However, every time your phone buzzes on your desk you can't help but get a little excited over the prospect of getting a notification from him, causing you to put your nerves and anxiety on reset. 

When Charles did decide to call you again, you were in the middle of your workday. Hesitating, you answered the call. "Hey," he greets once you answer, not even giving you a moment to speak. "I'm coming home for the next three days to calm down after the weekend." There was a slight strain in his voice. You could tell he was hungover.