apocalypse | charles leclerc ✓

chapter 20 | till breakup did us part

[ Final Chapter ]

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Baku, 2022

«The moments that stay, they turn out all wrong. When I look around, you're gone.»

His first instinct was to reach for her on the other side of the bed, her side of the bed, because Sloane would always be there...except this time it was empty. She was gone. He groaned, retracting his arm and pressing a palm to his forehead, a piercing ache spreading in every corner of his head. Charles rolled onto his side, squeezing his eyes shut as if that would help reduce the sensation of needles prickling at his brain. Everything hurt. Emotionally and physically. And he couldn't even properly remember the day before except for Sloane breaking up with him...and then DNF-ing. Getting drunk, for sure. Fuck. Another groan escaped from him. Shit. That hurt.

"Great, Sleeping Beauty is finally awake." A voice that sounded a lot like Pierre's — no, it was definitely Pierre — slipped into the room. With as much effort as he could muster, he opened one eye, the sight of his friend becoming less blurry while his vision adjusted to the light. His head was giving up. "Next time, if you're going to get shitfaced and do something stupid, make sure to invite me first." He sat on the end of the bed, shaking his head but seeming amused.

He propelled himself with an arm, rubbing a hand through his face. Every movement made the pounding in his head worse. "I don't know what happened."

"Oh, I can tell you what happened." Pierre raised an eyebrow. "I know you like to keep it in the same friend group but for fuck's sake at least break up with Sloane before you try to get into Aurora's bed. That poor girl looked terrified when I picked you up from her hotel room."

Aurora. Hotel room. Breakup. Sloane. A little bit of everything flashed back and the headache grew stronger. He flopped onto the bed again with another sound of protest, covering his face with both hands. The one thing Sloane had asked since the beginning, to not get Aurora involved, and then he went and did the exact opposite. Now he owed Aurora more than one apology. He wouldn't blame her if she decided to complain about him at a company level.

"You were passed out by the way." Pierre carried on. "I found you snoozing in her bed, Charles. Why would you—"

"She broke up with me." He interrupted before the retelling of the night before continued. He didn't need a step-by-step description of everything that'd gone wrong the previous day. Pierre's face contorted in genuine surprise. "Sloane called me to break up. Hours before the race."

The French driver pursed his lips in a frown. "Shit, that's—over the phone? What a bitch." While Charles glared, Pierre winced. "I mean, sorry, but that's fucked up. Couldn't she have waited after the race...nevermind, that would've been worse. Is that why you were behaving like an ass with everybody?" He wasn't helping a lot on the case so the glaring from his side didn't vanish. Pierre took notice of it. "Sorry. I'm sorry, Charles. Do you want to talk about it?"

No. He wanted everything to stop feeling like shit. Charles shook his head, not in the mood to dwell on it.

"That fucking sucks, man."

Well, yeah, it fucking sucked indeed. He took a deep breath and asked for the time. Pierre checked his watch, told him and Charles proceeded to mumble a string of curses in French. He'd missed his flight, and where was his phone? The team would kill him. When Pierre offered to share a car to take him back to his hotel, he declined and assured him he could find a ride himself. His phone was dead, but he'd leave that for later. Everything felt unreal. His body carried an invisible heavyweight and he was there in the present but at the same time, he wasn't. He thought of Sloane, where she was, and ignored the ripping twist inside of him.