: ̗̀➛ part three of the
one for the road series
SNOWFALL / CL16
in which two childhood friends reunite. a formula one driver wants to learn how to snowboard and it just so happens that the daughter of his mum's be...
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✧ ˚ · . CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE . · ˚✧ lost in your current like a priceless wine
paris, february 2023
The moment the comforting buzz of the machine started, Charles' grip on my hand tightened immediately. Laying on my stomach, with Charles standing at the head, I felt the artist situate herself on my arm where the stencil had been placed just above my elbow. It had been Charles' own idea to come with me to my appointment, but the moment his green eyes met mine, I could tell he was regretting that very decision.
Who would have thought a Formula 1 driver would be afraid of needles? The new discovery made me giggle, but I quickly held my breath when I remembered the woman about to inject ink into my skin. I barely winced as the sharp string of the needle sizzled up my arm, yet I caught Charles' wide eyes, his expression one of pure concern.
"That sounds like it hurts," he mumbled quietly to me, and the tattoo artist, Olivia, laughed. I could only smile in response and slightly shake my head—more than that and I was afraid my arm would move along with the motion, and that was the very last thing I wanted at that moment. "Are you sure?"
"I've gotten tattoos before, babe," I said softly, yet Charles still reached for my free hand, intertwining our fingers and softly squeezing mine. "It's really more of an uncomfortable tickle that anything else."
Charles' brows only furrowed deeper, but his green eyes slid away from mine and towards where Olivia was tattooing my arm. His expression turned into one of astonishment, laced still within hints of concern and anguish. Unlike Charles, I had no direct view of what was being permanently inked onto my skin, yet I was feeling none of his anxiety. I had gotten tattoos by Olivia before, and they get always outdone my expectations.
The longer I laid there waiting, the quicker my heart started to beat with anticipation for the final product of the design. This tattoo, one that already held an incredibly important meaning, now felt even more so with Charles by my side. L'espoir meant hope after all, and now it felt like that hope had not been for nothing—in the end, Charles and I had found our way back to each other. I was aware we still had years to go, but something deep inside of me assured me that we would survive that. If we could still find love after nine years, if we could still trust each other after what we had went through, I knew we could get through anything.
We had both grown from our mistakes, had learned to not only listen to the other but also to listen to ourselves. Life with Charles now felt as easy as breathing—the past few days had been a blissful routine in which we respected each others daily lives while still relishing in the time spent together. I knew we didn't have long before the Formula 1 season would whisk all of that away, but I was prepared to uproot some of my life to support Charles in different corners of the world.
