then you flashed your green eyes at me || Charles Leclerc

chapter eleven

Alya groaned and rolled on the bed as her ohone started ringing. Without opening her eyes, she struggled to answer the call - she was too tired to do anything properly.

"Bonjour chérie" someone said. She sat up straight, eyes widening as she completely woke up. Only one person called her chérie.

"What the hell" she said. 

"How are you? Are you on your way to the airport?" he asked.

"I- what?" she passed her hand through her hair, trying to process whatever he was saying - she couldn't really function in the morning without coffee. "Why are you calling me?"

"Lando can't pick you up when you get to Monaco, so he asked me to get you. Are you on your way to the airport in London for your flight? I wanted to know if you'll be on time"

"My way to the airport?" she asked confused. "What day is it?"

"It's thursday. It's the day you fly to Monaco to look for an apartment" he replied. 

"It's wednesday"

"No, it's thursday"

"No, it has to be wednesday"

"I assure you, chérie. It's thursday. Check your phone" he said. She did. She took the ohone away from her ear, put him on speaker and read the date and time. 

Her eyes widened. 

"Fuck, it's thursday!" she said, frenetically trying to get out of bed. She fell on the floor with a loud thud.

"I told you. What was that thud I heard?"

"I fell on the ground" she simply said.

"You what?" he asked. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah yeah it happens constantly, don't be surprised" she said, then she heard him giggled. "Bitch stop laughing" she said.

"So you're going to be late?" he ignored her.

"I don't know" she said, grabbing a few clothes and shoving them in her suitcase. She rushly brushed her teeth and put her beauty case in her bag. Then she grabbed her passport, phone, boarding pass, tickets and suitcase and rushed out the door. "I'm going to the airport, I'll let you know if I catch the flight. God, why did I sleep so much?" she asked herself. Without waiting for an answer, she hung up the phone and hopped in the car.

Twenty minutes later she had parked in the airport parking lot. She had probably collected a few speeding tickets along the way, but she didn't really care. She went through security and caught her flight just on time. Before turning the phone in airplane mode she texted Charles - the thought she was actually texting him felt weird - that she was about to take off. 

She then fell asleep, and didn't wake up again till the landing.

In the meanwhile Charles had told Carlos that he couldn't go to the airport to pick up his brother, who was coming back from a trip with his friends, and asked him to go pick him up. Of course, Arthur was actually at home, chilling in front of the tv - something that Carlos didn't know. He was, of course, blindly going to pick up Alya.

Why was Charles helping Alya sort things out with Carlos? He actually had no idea. The night he punched him it had been an impulsive reaction. He didn't know what was wrong. It was like his hand wanted to hit him hard enough to hurt his face and ego - which in the end had happened. But it wasn't clear to him why that necessity had come up in the back of his brain, nor why he had actually listened to it.

What he did know was that he had apologized the next day to Carlos and everything was fine. But then he had heard from Lando that Alya wasn't doing good since they hadn't been talking, and something had moved inside his stomach. It was some mixture of happiness, sadness and compassion that he couldn't really explain. 

Was he happy because he had talked to Lya more than Carlos had in the past few days - even though it was just to collect information from both side to help them? Yes, he was.

Was he sad because she was hurting? Yes, he definitely was.

Was he feeling compassionate because he didn't want her to hurt so much? Yes.

But did he know why? Absolutely not. 

He had talked about it with Pierre, and in his opinion Charles was developing feelings for Alya. But it didn't make sense, at least not to him. She had turned him down, and had pushed him away at any chance she got - even when she was drunk. She had been angry at him more times in two weeks than his brother in three years. And everyone knows siblings base their relationship on fighting. 

Also, she didn't like him. Why would he like someone that didn't like him in any way? It would have been self destructive. So he was convinced that that wasn't the case. He didn't have feelings for her. Even though, sometimes, his mind went back to that night on the roof, her face wet for the tears, her breath too short to let her live. And he would get worried sick that something like that could happen again, and that he wouldn't be there to help. 

But no, he didn't like her.

On the other hand, Carlos had mixed feelings. They had always been close friends, and they had always had a flirty relationship - a platonic one. Then he hadn't seen her in person for months, and seeing her again had done something to him. She was beautiful, and caring, and funny, and flirty. And having that again in his life - this time as a single man - had messed with his head.

The kiss they had shared that night, that was something he had dreamed of for a while. He knew that she was drunk, he knew that it wouldn't mean anything. But he had wanted it so bad, that he was ready to have it in any way, even if it was just for one night. 

But then Charles had stopped the moment, and had made him realize that she wasn't in herself. Alya wouldn't have kissed him if she was sober, and he knew that. He really did. And he felt like shit.

He didn't want to hurt her feelings by not answering the phone. But he felt guilty, and didn't know what she remembered of the night, and he didn't want to mess things up even more. And then one day, two days, three days had passed and he felt like he had no right to go back into her life like nothing happened. And honestly, he didn't want to know what she felt - not entirely at least. 

He pulled up at the airport and walked to the gate from London. He thought about Alya and the fact that she was coming to Monaco one of those days. She had been planning it for months, even sent them to look at a few apartments to help her when she would've gotten there. 

He just wanted to hug her again. And help her get a flat and be happy. He wanted to be a part of her life again, but didn't want to talk about anything. He felt like a coward.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost had a heart attack when someone tapped his shoulder. He slowly turned around, expecting to see Arthur Leclerc in front of him. He freezed when he realized that it wasn't him.

"Carlos?" Alya asked, shocked. "What are you doing here?"