apocalypse | charles leclerc ✓

chapter 12 | not the same anymore

«But we don't have to talk about it, I can walk you home and practice method acting, I'll pretend being with you doesn't feel like drowning.»

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She rested her chin on her palm, gaze focused on the people eating their little snacks a few tables across from hers. Her vision became bleary, slight patches of red turned into blurs and her eyes were shutting close all by themselves. The exhaustion was winning the battle against her. She felt the breathing escaping through her parted lips go slow, and the weight on her shoulders vanishing away. Oh no, the last part of her brain, the one that hadn't completely shut itself off, wanted to warn her she was falling asleep at the Ferrari dining area. Sloane, who was more jetlagged than anything else, could not care less about that.

It was starting to work on her, the sleeping, and then...someone snapped their fingers right in front of her face. She jolted on her chair at the sound of it, eyes going wide in surprise and placing a hand on her chest as if that would stop her from having a heart attack out of the sudden interruption. Aurora met her gaze, she'd been the one doing the snapping, but taking into account her reaction, her friend seemed alarmed by the response.

"Jesus, I thought you were, like, meditating, not straight-up napping!" Aurora said almost in a whisper. Her Ferrari polo was a bit blinding, Sloane thought. The red hurt her eyes. "I brought you coffee." She set a cup down in front of her, sliding it until the material brushed the side of her hand. "You seem really tired. Are you okay?"

Her eyelids felt so heavy. Sloane blinked. She opened her mouth to speak but closed it instantly when a jawn threatened its way out.

Fuck. The energy had drained itself from her body. "It's the jetlag, I think." Her lips curved into a reassuring smile because when her best friend sat on the chair before her, she could notice the concern growing in her expression.

"Have you eaten? Do you want something to eat? I think they have your favourite cookies here." Her thumb pointed at the food section not too far away from their table. Sloane shook her head no. Her hair fell flawlessly on her face.

The last thing she ate was a rather grotty sandwich at the airport and her stomach still bubbled from the effects it provoked on her. The mere thought of it arose an awful sensation of nausea, making her insides churn. The avocado in that sandwich had seen better days. She almost gagged but opted to take a sip from the coffee to drown the bad taste in her throat and tongue. It was like acid.

Her eyes were fixed on Aurora's as she looked at her over the rim of the cup. When she placed it down, she played with the paper holder around it. "I ate something at the airport, no need to worry."

"You shouldn't be flying like that, Slo. You look knackered." Aurora pointed out, fiddling with her hands on the table, perhaps feeling nervous about letting that statement be known. "It's fine if you decide to skip some races sometimes. I don't think Charles would mind if you took a breather from it." And she smiled, softly, probably with the intention of making sure her words didn't land like an offence.

It didn't offend her anyway. What her best friend stated was true, and she had no problem acknowledging it. Sloane bit the inside of her cheek, tapping her fingers on the side of the cup and feeling the heat on her fingertips.

"It's the first race of the season," First race that happened to overlap in time with a fashion show she got booked for in Paris. In all honesty, she didn't understand how she was still alive, but she'd managed with both. "I wanted to be here...to support. I didn't do Bahrain last year." Her hand gestured nonchalantly in the air. Aurora stared.