Moscow Mule - [Pierre Gasly]

XVI

              "Bro," Charles put his arm around Pierre as he pulled him close. Pierre glanced between his friend and the drink in his hand, his hazed eyes and his slurred speech. Charles was drunk after he got the pole position in Baku again, just like last year. As Ferrari has an amazing straight line speed, they should be perfect for Sunday. And damn did Charles look forward to beating Max Verstappens ass. "Bro," Charles replied, as if Pierre wasn't already staring at him for a couple of minutes. "I have to apologize," Charles continued. "What are you talking about?" Pierre asked, ducking his head a little to be able to hear him over the loud music of the club. "I kissed your girl, mate," Charles slurred. "She was in Paris after the Monaco Grand Prix and I asked her out, because she said you two weren't together or anything." Pierre's fingers curled a little tighter around his glass. "We weren't," Pierre replies, because in the end, that was the truth. "She's in love with you, mate," Charles says. "Did she kiss you back?" Pierre heard himself say. "No, she pushed me away," Charles laughed. "Told me not to ask her out again." He chuckled softly, that sounded like her.

"Hey, man!" Charles saw Lando walking around and was distracted immediately. Pierre left his drink on the table and moved out of the club. The last two weeks had actually been excruciating. The only reason why it hadn't completely torn him apart was because he managed to get her out of his head as soon as he closed his visor. "Where are you going?" one of his mechanics patted his shoulder with a smile. "Just to get some air," Pierre lied, giving a grin in response before pushing through the sweaty bodies. He walked out of the club and was glad to get some fresh air. He took his phone from his pocket. It was time to get back to the hotel anyway. He opened his texts, looking at the last text Azar had sent him. 

[Azar]: I stole your heart, dug my own grave, and buried it with me.

He hadn't understood what she meant with it, but now it made sense. Pierre had left her on read. He sighed deeply, he truly had no idea what to do with her. Azar had been clear when she left his hotel room upset in Monaco after he asked her if she wanted to be in a relationship with him. Well, he didn't even want to put that stamp on it, he just wanted to know if they could put a label on whatever they were. Because he hadn't been seeing anyone else besides her, and he didn't want to either. Truth was, she could get him back anytime. She just had to say she was sorry, and he'd run back into her arms. Pierre felt guilty, actually. Because the way he felt right now? Rejected and left alone? That's how he left a lot of his ex-girlfriends. And no one should feel this because there was someone in the relationship with attachment issues. Long story short: Azar should get her shit fixed. And he was angry, frustrated. He wanted her to know he wasn't someone to play around with, but at the same time, he... He loved her. 

Pierre had fallen in love, because she matched his humor, his energy, his craziness. God, even their schedules, were perfect for him. He wasn't ready yet to settle down and start talking about marriage and starting a family yet. Seeing the way Azar reacted to Daria and his friend, Nadri, made him feel that they were on the same line with this, but labeling whatever they had until Monaco was apparently enough to scare her away. Pierre hadn't wanted to push her, but he wanted her to be his. He wanted to show her off as his girlfriend, he wanted to be at her shows, he wanted her to be there at his races when she could. He saw nothing wrong with having different schedules at all. Pierre reached his hotel and went inside, making a beeline for the elevator, hoping there were no fans still around wanting a picture as he sped up to the twentieth floor of the skyscraper hotel. It was late enough when he reached his room, and he really had to go to sleep soon, because he wasn't looking forward to a scolding from Pyry at all.

[Pierre]: Find a way to revive it, then. You know where to find me.

Pierre reread his text a couple of times and then send it, immediately setting his alarm and leaving his phone to charge on the nightstand. He went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face, soon after he let himself fall on the bed. Pierre repeated the way Charles had told him, I kissed your girl, mate. He shook his head, wanting to get rid of the image in his mind.