Charles Leclerc - This Love

0.08 Bad Kind Of Butterflies

"Ahhhhh! I'm so happy for you!" Alyssa squealed through the phone. "Nothing happened! Can you relax!" Isla laughed. "He made you breakfast! Who does that? A husband! That's who! Marry him or I'll take him!" Isla stood out on her balcony and sat down. "Alyssa, I don't even see him that way." she said. Alyssa groaned. "Are you serious?! A guy genuinely likes you and your still not over what's his face Verstappen?" Isla didn't want to answer but her silence spoke a thousand words. "Just do me a favour and think about it. Who has treated you better? Max literally never raised a finger to make you food in your entire three years together but Charles made you breakfast his third day of knowing you. Let that sink in!" and then she hung up leaving Isla with thoughts running around her head. Fuck. Alyssa was right. Max didn't treat her like she was special, he treated her like another person but Charles? Charles just seemed to treat her exactly how a girl is supposed to be treated.

Maybe Charles was the right guy. She felt as though she was beyond liking him, to the point where love was more appropriate but the thought of Max still lingered in her head. She got butterflies over both of them; the bad kind for one of them. "Just get out of my fucking head." she whispered to herself thinking it would make a difference but no. He still stayed there. She picked up her phone and began typing a long paragraph to Charles. She poured her heart and soul into it, her blood, her sweat, her tears. All the hurting, the healing, the loving, her absolute all into that paragraph. It meant so much for something so small and she so desperately wanted him to know this but it seemed like she couldn't bring herself to press the send button. She even tried counting down but she kept resetting the timer. No. She still couldn't. She deleted it and threw her phone to the side, clenching her eyes shut out of frustration. Why was love so complicated? "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" she almost screamed. "What do I do when I love you but want somebody else?" She paused and walked over to her keyboard just pressing random keys and hoping it sounded someway decent. "What do I lose if I don't choose and keep it to myself?"

She grabbed a notebook and wrote out a poem before adding some kind of melody behind it. "I've got bad butterflies in my chest, there's something I gotta confess. Yes, somebody is stuck in my head and I, and I." That sounded alright. She just had to keep writing now. Isla didn't even go outside. She kept writing, she wouldn't rest until she did. She didn't finish until the middle of the night and when she did, so many tears had dripped onto her paper that the writing was barely even visible but she made do and sang the song to herself. The passion she put into the song mixed with the venom with each line she sang. All this hurt that she had been hiding for so long had finally come out in this song and she felt this weight lift off her shoulders, almost like she was free from the shackles of her impeding thoughts. She felt like herself once more, but for how long would this last? That was the question she wanted answered...