Misery | Charles Leclerc [Abandoned]

𝚂𝚒𝚡𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗.

Charles had always been fascinated by thunderstorms. When he was little he would take a chair from the dining room and place it next to a window when it stormed, so he could look at the grey clouds and the lighting coming down. Even the hard crashes of sounds coming from the sky didn't scare him. He didn't understand how it happened, the rain, the light and the sounds but he was in awe of the mighty power of the event.

Later he learned that thunderstorms are caused by friction between strongly rising hot air and strongly descending cold air. These two airflows come close together at high speed and electrical particles charge the cloud like a huge capacitor. This makes discharges possible between the cloud and other clouds.

At twentyfive he now knows that not only grey clouds can cause that friction. Her eyes are like the storms he watched when he was younger. The intense shade of grey, so rich and with all sorts of textures in them that are now burned into his brain. The friction in him feels like an unbearable buildup of hot and cold air flows which alternate each other everytime she is near him.

She causes him to feel so hot he gets prickly and irritated. She is so good at provoking him and he doesn't know how to handle himself. The next moment she is capable of turning all those hot feelings into such cold that he feels chills run over his skin. It is starting to feel inevitable that they are going to collide one of these days and he doesn't know if he is going to be able to handle the storm that it is going to cause.

He tries.

He tries to focus on something else. Get her grey eyes out of his head. Tries to push down the hot and the cold. He tries.

He fails.

Her grey eyes have not left him since the moment she walked away from him. The scent of her vanilla and orange skin that always seems to surround her stuck in his nostrils. The hot feeling of her breath on his skin still tingling in his neck.

It is infuriating. Exasperating. Insufferable.

He swings his arm with all the might he can lay into it. The ball collides with his padel racket, sending the little ball flying over the net to the back of the court. It comes back in full force and Arthur doesn't act quick enough so the ball goes to the ground, giving their opponents a point. Max and Lando share a high-five while Charles' brother just looks at him with annoyance.

"Can you cut it out?" He walks off to take a sip from his water bottle that stands on the side. Charles follows him and shakes his head.

"Sorry, Thur. My head is not in the game." He throws the towel laying on the ground over his neck, wiping at the sweat that has been building there.

"No shit," Arthur replies with a glare. Charles just sighs and takes a big swig from his water bottle, almost draining the contents.

"Need a break already Leclerc's? We're just starting." Lando jumps a few times to show that he is indeed full of energy. They are halfway their second game of padel and Charles is, bluntly speaking, sucking. He is missing all the balls or hitting them too hard and Arthur is getting frustrated with him, as is not an unreasonable thing.

"This fucker needs to take a second and come back to earth," his brother spits out, before taking another sip and putting his bottle down. "I am not planning on getting hit by a misplaced swing."

Charles just glares not in the mood to get bashed by his baby brother.

With the Monaco Grand Prix around the corner Arthur had been staying with their mother. When Lando had asked them to come out for a round of padel and bring a teammate because he was claiming Max Charles had asked Arthur, who was willing to come.