Shifting Gears || cl16/ln4

Gear Eighteen

In the hotel room

My eyes widened as I heard Charles' voice, and I immediately got out of bed to find him standing there with a confrontational and confused expression as he looked at Arthur. Charles' gaze immediately turned to me, and I crossed my arms, responding with a hint of defiance, "No, the real question is, what are you doing here?"

The room held an unexpected tension, caught between the presence of the Leclerc brothers and the lingering connection I had shared with Arthur. As Charles and I exchanged a charged gaze, the air seemed to thicken with unspoken questions and the weight of our intertwined histories.

Charles sighed, his gaze shifting between Arthur and me. "I was just checking on my brother," he explained, a touch of defensiveness in his voice.

"Checking on your brother?" I retorted, the skepticism evident in my tone. "This is my hotel room, in case you've forgotten."

Arthur, caught in the middle of the sibling tension, attempted to diffuse the situation. "It's fine, Willow. I can go if it's causing a problem."

Charles shot Arthur a stern look before turning his attention back to me. "I don't trust him around you."

Rolling my eyes, I scoffed, "That's rich coming from you. If you're so concerned, maybe you should focus on your own actions."

The room hung with a charged silence, each word uttered adding another layer to the complex dynamics at play. It was a collision of conflicting emotions and unspoken truths, leaving the three of us entangled in a web of history, rivalry, and the intricate threads of connection that refused to be severed.

Arthur, sensing the escalating confrontation, interjected, "Maybe I should go. I don't want to cause any more trouble."

Charles shot him a pointed look, and I could see the conflict in Arthur's eyes. As he headed toward the door, he cast a glance my way. I couldn't let Charles dictate Arthur's choices.

"No, Arthur, your brother doesn't get to decide what you do and who you talk to. Stay," I said, looking at Charles defiantly. I stormed towards the door and shut it into his face, a symbolic barrier against his attempts to control the situation.

Arthur, caught between the conflicting dynamics of sibling loyalty and newfound connection, hesitated for a moment. The room, now a refuge from the outside tensions, became a battleground for individual agency.

"Charles will kill me," Arthur said, an unsure smile breaking through the turmoil in his eyes. He took a step back from the door and sat back down on my bed.

I chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood, "Well, I don't think he has a say in your social life, does he?"

Arthur's smile grew more confident, and he shook his head, "No, he doesn't, but he'll still kill me."

As the tension eased, we resumed our conversation, intertwining stories and shared experiences in a way that felt natural, free from the constraints of familial expectations.

In the gentle ambiance of the room, Arthur's hesitancy gave way to a more relaxed demeanor. "You know, this feels nice," he admitted, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "I rarely get to just be Arthur, not Charles' brother or part of the racing drama. Being in your presence makes it seem easy."

A soft smile played on my lips as I appreciated the sincerity in his words. "Sometimes, we all need a break from the roles society assigns us," I replied. "With me, you're not Charles' brother or part of any racing drama. You're just Arthur, and that's perfectly okay."

As the night unfolded, Arthur and I continued to share stories, aspirations, and even our perspectives on life outside the racing world. The atmosphere, now charged with a newfound friendship, felt like a sanctuary where the weight of external expectations was momentarily lifted.