Little Things

32- Blowtorch

"Thia why won't you talk to me?"

"Hm?" I snap out of my spaced out state, looking over at my brother

"What happened? I haven't really talked with you since before France, that was like a month ago"

"It was two weeks, not a month"

"Still, you get what I mean"

"Nothings happened, just busy" I shrug, choosing to keep out what happened after the last gp, and the panic attack I had yesterday

"I saw you and Charles posted an interview together"

"Yeah, the team asked if we would want to so why not"

"Do the fans now officially know?"

"No, Charles and I aren't fully comfortable posting each other and openly saying it yet, we're going to give it a bit longer" I hate that I have to lie to him

"Do they know you two dated before?"

"I'm not sure, we never posted each other on our main accounts, just the private ones so either people would've had to see us in person and kept pictures, or they'd have to look really hard for clues"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you love him?"

I can see Charles sitting a few tables away from us at the restaurant, talking with Lando while they eat breakfast, I divert my gaze back to Max with a small smile, "Yeah, I do" My heart physically hurts as I say the words, my eyes going back to Charles for a split second, only this time, he too was looking over at me.

We hold our eyes on one another until I can't stand it any longer, switching my gaze back to my brother

"I actually need to get to the paddock, you know quali briefs and stuff, but I'll see you later" I stand up from the table, patting my brothers shoulder as I walk to the elevators to get to my room

Right as the doors about to close, a hand slips between the doors, reopening them

Charles.

My jaw tightens as I look down at the ground, trying unreasonably hard to not look up at him

We haven't spoke since I practically ran out of my drivers room yesterday, to afraid of confrontation with the obvious.

That I'm Charles Leclerc's personal prison, and he's dying to escape.

The door chimes before opening to our level. I walk out before him, his footsteps acting as confirmation that he's following me.

We spend the next twenty minutes in silence as we prepare to leave, and right as i'm about to do so, his voice stops me.

"Alethia, wait" His words are rushed, as if not noticing i'd been attempting to leave until my hand was already on the door

"What?" My tone is emotionless, trying my hardest not to tell him my every thought with just one word.

"You ran off yesterday, you didn't even let me answer"

"I'll do you the favor of answering for you. Yes, you hate me, and yes, you'd rather be with someone else. Now can I go?"

"Alethia" He sighs

"What? Gonna tell me i'm wrong? You're the same guy you were back then, so why would the answer be any different?"

When he doesn't respond I scoff, leaving the hotel room.

I almost thought things could be different after what happened at the club.

That maybe, just maybe, I wouldn't let history repeat itself.

I thought i'd learned, i'd grown. That I could be immune to him after what happened the first time.

I spent so much time convincing myself that I was passed it all, that it's just another memory.

But experiencing it again after sustaining off purely memory is like comparing a match to a blow torch.

Matches light candles, they emit comforting scents into your home. Candles act as a soft light, you watch their dancing flames peacefully. 

A match lights a flame in your heart, teaching you what it feels like to be in love. The warmth that flows through you at the mere thought of him.

Matches bring you peaceful late nights under the stars, the sound of a crackling fire filling your ears. The soft wind, the crunch of leaves under your shoes, love is like fall. Soft, comforting, home.

A blowtorch burns things. It emits flaming heat with the intent of direct, calculated, scorching.

A blowtorch takes your heart and chars it, watching it slowly burn until nothing but dust is left. Blowtorches are aggressive, and don't contain regret as everything they do is planned. Nothing goes without purpose.

A blowtorch can create forest fires. Burning buildings. Pure, overwhelming, power. Roaring flames, uncontrollable aggression.

Heartbreak.

Words: 790

This is so horribly short I apologize profusely

This is also a filler chapter i'm sorryyyy ik you guys want the interesting stuff but we're getting there 😭