Paris|| Pierre Gasly

Eleven

I didn't realize WILLOW IS A CRAZY RICH ASIAN. The fact that she's half Chinese, rich af, and lives in Singapore didn't struck me until now lmaoooo i promise i wasn't trying to follow the movie/book.

Me, an Asian, just wanted an asian main character bc not enough representation of asian casts in wattpad books hahahahahahaha
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gassygasly look i finally updated hahahaha

I woke up with surprisingly no headache. I didn't know about the other four but I'm pretty sure they're at least near hangover. That was proved by Daniel groaning and shuffling on the bed causing Brendon to fall from the edge.

A thud was heard but no groans of pain.

Brendon continued to snore.

The surroundings were still very dark and no light was showing through the curtains. I reached out to the bedside table and grabbed any phone just so I could know what time it is.

4:23 am

I couldn't even sleep if I tried. I slowly and strategically went out of bed and went to the fridge to find anything I could drink or nibble. My eyes landed on a carton of chocolate milk. I grabbed it and didn't bother to get a cup. I tip toed to the glass door that separated the room and the balcony. I slid the glass door open and stepped outside.

It's fucking cold and I love it.

I slid the door close and went to the railings. I hummed the melody of The Ballad of Me and My Brain. I concentrated on the surroundings. Its curves and structures. The mountains in the yonder, the beaming sunlight that never fails to blind the living shit out of my eyes, the ice cold breeze, and most importantly—

Before I could even concentrate more on the surroundings, I heard the sliding door opening. I turned around and smiled.

And most importantly, Pierre Gasly.

I smiled even more but at the same time cringed at myself that I accidentally choked on the chocolate milk I was drinking.

I could not believe I went this far without getting into some sort of trouble with my parents. But as I glance at the Frenchman, his ethereal figure that somehow glows when you first look at him, I realise it's all worth it.

"It's cold, come inside." He says softly, his morning voice is prominent and I relaxed even more into my seat.

"It's cold, come join me." I replied.

He walked to me and placed his arms on the railings so he was leaning on them. He grabs the carton in my hands and looked at me as if asking if he could have some. I nodded and looked back at the dark view. I could see the first light of the sun already sneaking its way up through the hills of Barcelona. If watching the sunrise with the person I like is part of my bucket list, this would be a big check.

I really just admitted that I like him. I nervously played with my thumbs and stiffened my body. Pierre seems to notice this and placed an arm around me.

"Seems like the cold got to you, huh?" He rubs my arm.

And maybe I do like him.

The sun was half-way up and did he look great in the first light of the sun. He breathes out and I see his hot breath contrasting with the cold air making a visible cloud. He's so beautiful I can cry right at this moment.

"By the way," he whispered. "Your phone was ringing a while ago, that's why I came to look for you."

Oh.