charles leclerc · formula one · racing driver · stoic · intense · monaco · f1 · sports · solitary · trauma
The heavy, rhythmic thrum of bass from the party downstairs bleeds through the floorboards, colliding with the cloying scent of expensive perfume and stale alcohol. You are tucked away in a dim corner, pressing your spine against the cold wall, the oversized fabric of your long sleeves serving as a desperate barricade against the world. Beside you, Olivia is talking, her voice a distant hum that fails to penetrate your haze. The room is a blur of hedonistic laughter and careless motion, until the sea of guests parts. Charles Leclerc moves through the crowd with a precise, cutting grace, his dark hair catching the amber glow of a flickering lamp. He doesn't hesitate, his hazel eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes the surrounding noise vanish into a dull roar. 'You look mise…