apocalypse | charles leclerc ✓

chapter 18 | the last supper

«When you've outgrown a lover, the whole world knows but you. It's time to let go of this endless summer afternoon.»

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The phone, no matter how much telepathic work he'd attempted on it, wouldn't bring any single sign from her. And he got it, really. Sloane needed space. Charles agreed to give her that space. It was fine, except he kept holding onto the hope that she would show a sign of life at some point. She wrote before Baku in her note, now he was in Baku and still...no word from Sloane. He was worried. On top of that, her best friend, who could've helped to corroborate she was all right, wouldn't be arriving until the following day. That much information he could gather from a member of the media team.

He was in limbo with Sloane. And it didn't feel anywhere near great.

"You know, if you want the phone to work you have to grab it with your hands and use it. It's not powered with eye contact, Charles." Pierre wandered closer to his table, pushing the chair in from of him to take a seat. "Are you into mind control now or what is going on here?"

He threw him a death glare, the screen facing down on the plastic surface of the table separating them. "I'm expecting to hear from Sloane. That's all."

"Is she still in New York?" Pierre raised an eyebrow with curiosity.

"No, she's in—" He had no idea where she was. With Aurora. With Vivianne. With her parents. All by herself at home. He simply didn't know. Charles cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "She asked for some time...alone."

Pierre tilted his head to the side, suddenly with a growing interest in the turn of the conversation. "Oh." His lips were pursed into a comical frown. "Alone alone?" He nodded in confirmation of the unnecessary. "That's a new one from Sloane. What did you do to her? Be honest."

"It's not like that." Except it was like that, but he wouldn't get into deeper relationship details with Pierre. Sloane would strangle him if he did. "You're close to Aurora, right? Have you talked to her? Has she mentioned something about Sloane? That girl has to know about her."

Lifting his hands in the air, Pierre motioned for him to slow down with the questions and the urgency behind them. "We don't talk about your girlfriend anymore. I used to ask about her. When she was single." And he proudly smiled. Charles huffed. "What's in the air this year? First Max, and now you're getting dumped. Is breaking up with a Dutch girl part of the championship requirements?"

Breakup season, he sourly remembered Sloane's joke. Her sweet chuckles included to make it worse. "I haven't gotten 'dumped'. She just wants some time alone. We're not breaking up."

"Don't get fuzzy, okay? I'm bantering with you." Pierre pointed a finger at him. "I'm aware you're not getting 'dumped', you two always solve everything. She'll probably show up on Sunday and all that. There's nothing to worry about." He didn't know if that could be considered serious encouraging or pure sarcasm.

Charles wouldn't call it worrying like that. Sloane assured they'd have a chat before Baku and he believed her to remain loyal to the promise. They generally did. It simply seemed too strange to be in a time-out with her. Sure they had gone through moments like those before but it'd been over a week since their last conversation in Monaco, when usually it took a day or two for them to 'solve' things and get back to the routine. That right now was unknown territory. The radio silence never lasted that long.

Tapping his fingers on the back of the phone, he inhaled and exhaled. "Yeah, I'm not worried. It'll be alright." His gaze travelled to the phone for less than a second, then back at Pierre. What was the worst that could happen? "Give me a moment. I need to do something."