Formula One, Oneshots.

Charles Leclerc & Pierre Gasly.

No info today, switching it up a lil.
Apologies for the very long gap in between chapters.
enjoy :)

When you create memories, cherish them. When you make love, take care of it. When you find happiness, don't lose it.

That is what Pierre told himself for many years. Many years of confusion, hurt and heartbreak. But was it love, he was only 15 when it all started. But it felt right to him. It felt natural, he felt loved. The long history began at 15. He had met his crush, his first love while karting. He remembers having to say goodbye to him. How horrible it was. Charles. Charles had left him. He had left Pierre five and a half years ago, it wasn't planned, it really wasn't. Charles had been sending Pierre letters every week, since he left. Pierre had no explanation on how he felt, he had started having these feelings when he and Charles spent nearly every weekend together. Maybe it was just a schoolboy crush, but it shouldn't have hurt this much when he had to say goodbye to Charles. You know it felt as if a monster was trying to break out of his heart, and all Pierre could do was clutch at his heart, and with no choice but to just let the tears fall. It nearly destroyed him every-time. But he knew where he could go to feel the closest to Charles. Now at 20 years old, he still went to the place where he and Charles would spend the most time before he left so abruptly.
Pierre walked into his living room, the beautiful white Steinway & Sons grand piano, stood right there. It was satin gloss coated, it screamed innocence and that reminded him of Charles. Well, not only that, but the piano itself belongs to Charles. Pierre saw his ghost. A translucent mist, but the outline and every feature was there on this entity. Pierre blinked, the ghost not disappearing. He knew his mind was playing tricks on him, Charles was somewhere far away. Not dead, and not a ghost. Just in a different country, or so Pierre thought. Pierre kept blinking, the ghost getting even more real than it had been. Pierre cried out, his despair was evident. He could barely go five minutes without thinking about Charles and the fast moving emotions just overwhelming him almost instantly. He didn't understand how he could be so mentally and physically pained by not knowing where he is, what he looks like now, how he sounds now. Pierre misses Charles, and it's way more than he would like to admit.

Charles sat on the window cil, staring out of the window that overlooked Monaco. He could see Pierre's house from here. It sucked not being able to tell Pierre that he has been here the whole time. Charles was taken by his family to live in a "safe" house. Though, with the amount of scars, cuts, bruises and dried blood all over his body, the word "safe" wasn't really true. Yes Charles could write to Pierre often but that was because he would open the window as the postman went past and asked him to deliver it. The postman agreed to do it, and soon after that Pierre had started writing to him too. Even though, Pierre's letters made Charles incredibly happy, Charles wasn't sure his body could take the brutal beatings that it was receiving. His body was starting to concede to the pain. He wouldn't be able to stay like this any longer. He packed his duffle bag, Pierre's letters, and he opened the window and Charles did the only thing he knew how to in that moment, he ran. He ran half naked through the streets of Monte Carlo, fighting to get to Pierre's apartment before he could be recaptured by his family. A few tight corners and some long straights, Charles had arrived at the lobby of Pierre's apartment block. He asked the receptionist for Pierre's room number, "Room 26". Charles ran to the elevator, getting in and pressing the button to the 8th floor. He barged through the elevator doors when it stopped and charged towards Pierre's door. He could feel the tears already streaming down his face, he pounded on the door, anxiously waiting for the door to open.
Pierre opened the door, gasping at what he saw. A bruised and bloodied Charles Leclerc, tears pouring out of his eyes. Pierre pulled him into his apartment and slammed the door shut. Charles frightened by Pierre's random outburst of anger, making him jump into Pierre's arms. Pierre's grip was tight around Charles, his chin resting on the top of Charles's head. Charles was shivering, he was cold, the only clothes on him were a pair of shorts and nothing else. Pierre noticed and carried him to the bathroom, where he started to run a warm bath for Charles. Once the bath was running, Pierre turned to Charles, "I'm going to get you some clean clothes Cherí." Charles's heart warmed up at Pierre's words, he hadn't said anything to Pierre since he arrived, he didn't know if he still had a voice. Charles hasn't spoken for five years. Too terrified to say a word, in fear he may be beaten. He knew Pierre wouldn't ever hurt him. Charles turned the tap on to cold to get a drink, he drank from the tap, the water sloshing down his throat. It felt good, it lubricated his mouth and throat. Now he should sound good. He wanted to impress Pierre, Charles doesn't even know what he sounds like himself. He can remember the day he stopped talking, it's time to change that.
Pierre came back with a pink hoodie, some boxers, socks and jogging bottoms. Charles smiled at Pierre, and motioned for him to come closer. Pierre smiled as he stood between Charles's legs, the countertop of Pierre's bathroom wasn't very comfortable but Charles didn't care. Pierre spoke softly to Charles, "I've missed you, you have no idea." Charles giggled slightly, "I've missed you too Pierre." Charles was wide eyed, as was Pierre. Charles's voice, deeper, more gravely, husky, and the accent as rich as anything. Pierre was definitely lusting after Charles but he mustn't, Charles is fragile and Pierre has no idea what has happened in the last five hears. Charles was shocked to find out that was what he sounded like. He would admit that he thought his new voice was very attractive. Charles smiled at Pierre, before Pierre moved to turn off the bath tap. Charles smiled at how Pierre took care of him, Charles didn't wash himself in the bath. Pierre made it his job to wash Charles, making sure every drop of blood was banished from Charles's tanned skin. His fingers tracing the skin of the monegasque, Charles following Pierre's eyes as Pierre cleans him. Charles isn't lying when he says he is in love with Pierre. He has loved him since they were teens, fooling around and making memories they would remember forever. Charles knew that he and Pierre were meant forever. He just hoped Pierre returned the feelings.
Pierre sighed, while putting the flannel back into the water. He looked up to see Charles staring back at him. Charles offered his hand to Pierre, their fingers interlocking. Pierre sighed, and placed a kiss to Charles's hand before whispering just loud enough for Charles to hear him, "I love you Charlie." Charles gasped, Pierre had felt the same about him. Charles couldn't have felt happier, he knew he would be safe here with Pierre. He knew he would be.
"I love you too Pierre."
And Safe Charles was, he knew Pierre would protect him. And he did.