hitched•cl•

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A cloud of tension filled the private jet that Charles had just boarded. He looked over to Milo Crusoe, who had already arrived, and made himself comfy on the left-hand side of the plane. The older Brit was wearing dark wash jeans and, for some reason, a Haas sweater, which Charles found odd considering that he had no relation to the American based team.

Milo raised a brow, "Leclerc." He said with little emotion. There was no smile, and even though Charles hadn't expected him to be jumping for joy, he certainly didn't imagine such frostiness.

Almost as soon as Charles had sat down on the chair diagonally across from the Brit, the pilot came in to notify them that they would be taking off in the next twenty minutes. Milo thanked him, and the middle-aged pilot disappeared back into the cockpit.

Charles wondered about how he would talk to Milo because a lot needed to be said, and tense conversations were not something that came naturally to the driver. However, he didn't need to panic as a grin broke on Milo's face. "You're a right twat; you know that." He remarked with jest. "But I also owe you an apology."

Charles nodded with relief and scratched the back of his head. "Lewis called me a twat as well, but can we get this talk out of the way so we can talk about how you are literally the face of Hugo Boss?"

Milo unbuckled himself from the seat he had chosen to sit opposite the Monegasque, who seemed less tense but was chewing on the side of his lip.

They both sighed as the plane began to taxi, and the cabin fell quiet as the duo naturally filmed the climb out of the window. It didn't matter where they were or what they were doing; if they didn't find something to post on Instagram, it didn't happen.

Once the plane was in the sky, smoothly cruising, and their phones were away, it was time to talk. Charles looked at Milo, who gazed back, and for the first time in a long time, the two friends laughed.

"I knew this would be awkward, but damn, Leclerc doesn't smile at me like that; you're making me nervous." Milo grinned as Charles wiggled his eyebrows before winking. "Is it too late to ask you to find another way to New York?"

Milo looked around the cabin for something to throw at the Ferrari driver.  Only when the second red grape hit him did he stop and eat the fruit that had fallen into his lap.

Then another sigh came from Milo; he looked down at his nervous fingers tapping on the table between the boys. "Is it bad that I don't know how we got to this point?" He swallowed.

Charles agreed, "No, one minute we were at that club and then Presley had gone, and before I knew it, you were in New York with her." He pointed out, and the hitch in his voice cracked as the words left his lips. "I need to know what happened between you two because something has."

This was the point of no returns, and neither man wanted to cross this line, but if their friendship was going to have any chance of being repaired, they both knew that they had to be 100% honest with each other.

Milo looked at Charles, his face glazed with worry. Fear replaced the sparkle in his eyes, and just like Milo, Charles' heart was beating faster than it did when driving through Copse at 300kph.

And then the words that Charles feared came out of Milo. "Yeah, something has happened, a lot of somethings." He gulped, and just like that, Charles' heart sunk. "We should have - but mainly, I should have been honest with you about this." Milo pointed out. "I just didn't want we had to get between you two... but I guess it's too late for that."

Lewis had always laughed that Charles had married the wrong girl in Las Vegas, and he had always naively taken it as that he married someone else's girlfriend, but did Lewis say that because he knew that Presley belonged with Milo?