Formula One, Oneshots.

Sebastian Vettel & Charles Leclerc.

Based on the Monaco GP 2022.
Probably very sad.
Also, thank you for nearly 50k reads. I can't express how thankful i am to all of you.
Enjoy :)

All of the hard work, the dedication, the blood, sweat and tears that went into this weekend, were gone in a matter of seconds. One split second decision could cost everything that you had dreamed of in life. The heartbreak would never be erased. How could it? When something you had worked so hard for, had wanted so much is just ripped away from your finger tips. It would only become more daunting, more painful, more difficult to understand why a strategy like that was even thought of. These were only Charles's opinions but they were valid and right. Though, imagine if you were on pole position to win your home grand prix, and the start you had such a huge lead, but a wrong pit stop strategy screwed it for you. The anger at the team, the anger at yourself. The disappointment that you have for yourself and for your team. No words can heal the wounds that were tore right open and then left open while you bleed out onto the white granite tiles. Atleast that's how Charles felt about losing his home GP. Devastated is really the only word to describe how Charles felt. As soon as the pitstop was called, he knew that that was it. That it was over. That everything he had worked so hard for in practice, in qualifying, was gone. He remembers the scars on his arms, from 2018. His first home grand prix in Formula One. The first home gp that he didn't end up finishing for four years after that. One slightly happy thought for Charles was that he finished his home gp. He hadn't won it no, but he finished at-least. He was just so heartbroken, so lost, so angry, and so frustrated. His hopes for a first championship were slowly slipping away from his grip. Things were looking so good at the start of the season. But now, things were very much in question. Gutted, emotionally exhausted, anger; only words to describe how Charles felt. But as with everything in life, the show must go on.

Post-Race Interviews:
Charles was being interviewed by David Coulthard, they chatted about the devastation of placing fourth in your home gp. David seemed to empathise with Charles, he understood what it was like to lose a race, let alone in your home country. Charles just wished to go home, get into his bed and cry all night. But he knew he couldn't for quite a while. He still needed to do his debrief, but he just couldn't think about facing it. Charles felt something brush up against his back. Charles turned around, smiling lightly when he was greeted with the face of his former teammate. Seb, the face of the familiar German man never failed to make Charles smile. Charles had been head over heels for Sebastian for years. His crush on the older man only growing stronger. Charles didn't want his barriers to break down, they always did around Seb and they had a code word for whenever the other needed help. Charles knew he needed Seb. Seb pulled Charles in for a hug, and Charles whispered "Nova". Seb instantly knew what that meant, he nodded to Charles. Knowing that 9pm in Charles's apartment would be perfect as Ferrari were always finished with debriefing by 7.45 and the track was 15 mins from Charles's apartment. Seb decided to give Charles an hour to shower and clean up.

Sebastian was and had always been so hypnotised by the young monegasque. Charles was very handsome Seb would often think, but most of the time he could only describe Charles as beautiful, like the most gorgeous piece of art. So perfectly painted, so perfectly measured and framed. And then hung up on a wall, in a massive museum in some fancy city, in the perfect position so that everyone can see how truly perfect this piece of art is. And that piece of art Sebastian is talking about is a 24 year old Monegasque Brunette who drivers for the Scuderia. Seb is ten years older than Charles, but if love is meant to be, it'll be.
Seb packed up an overnight bag before heading to Charles's apartment. He was expecting what he knew he would see when Charles opened the door for him. A heartbreaking sight, the Monegasque with tear stained cheeks, bloodshot eyes, big hoodie and boxers, his hair in a mess and his cute little glasses he would wear in the evenings. Sebastian scolded himself and headed off to Charles's.

Charles heard the three soft knocks on his door. Knowing it was Seb, he went over to the door and opened it. The German looked so good, cute, cuddly. Everything that Charles wanted. Charles closed the door behind Seb, and then hugged him from behind. Seb chuckled and lead Charles to the sofa. The Monegasque looked so cute in his hoodie and boxers. Seb sat down and Charles climbed onto Seb's lap, they stayed like that just holding each other. Charles thought about how good this felt, how this felt like it was right. Charles had never breached the subject in a conversation with Seb, but now felt like the time to do so. So he took in a big breath, and whispered "Sebastian?" shakily. Seb hummed, admiring the young man. "This is going to be difficult to say. But I will try my best, please don't get mad. I can't handle that after today." Seb grabbed Charles's hand and placed a kiss to the back of his hand. "Continue Charles." Seb just assumed Charles wanted to vent about the race. But he was surprised when he didn't.
"Seb, i, I don't know how to say this. Seb, I think i'm in love with you." Charles let out a breath, Seb's grip on his hand tightened. "You are serious?" Charles nodded, "Certain of it, I've had feelings for you ever since we met." Sebastian smiled, "Ever since I laid eyes on you Charles I knew you were something special. I'm in love with you too." Charles smiled, a happy tear rolled down his cheek. Sebastian placed his hand on Charles face, their eyes connecting, and both closing the gap. Their lips met in a sweet kiss, and it was like everything they felt intertwined together and become one. Charles knew he had found his always and forever. And Sebastian knew he wouldn't let that beautiful framed piece of art fall into disrepair.

End.