*◌ೃ࿔ ≡ 🏎️🌫️🫧 .･*｡ charles leclerc x ex!singer!reader — — even though it's been a while, she still turns up on his front door step, and he's always going to let her in.
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—— SHE IS REGRETTING HER DECISION AS SOON AS SHE'S IN FRONT OF THE DOOR.
It was too easy to get here. She knew the roads like the back of her hand, and even if she didn't— her GPS still called this place home. Just finding the mailbox number, the short driveway connected to the garage that she knew held a priceless vintage Ferrari that had seen unholy parts of her, all the way to the door she'd walked out of all those years ago. It felt like yesterday— she wished it had only been yesterday.
But even though the neighborhood had welcomed her, it's warmth braving against the cold air and snow outside, she still had cold feet. All her gusto gone, no confidence left to raise her fist and knock on the door. After all, she didn't have the key anymore.
She shouldn't be here. It was a mistake to be here, to think she could just walk in and leave all her problems at the door like she used to. It was bad idea, he wouldn't want her here. He wouldn't welcome her. She couldn't be here. It wouldn't fix anything.
So, after a long twenty minutes of staring at the door as if it would open by itself, shivering with her heart in her heels, she shook her head as she twisted around and took the first step back towards the elevator. This was a terrible idea.
The lock clicked, and the door peeled open.
Her eyes went as wide as saucers, her hands still holding her arms close to her as she hoped she could simply melt away, disappear before he saw her.
"Oh, excusez-moi, désolé!"
It was the first time she'd heard his voice in six years. Never this close, never this clearly. The same draw pulling her in, warm and comfortable— like it could never hurt her. French curling in her ears so elegantly, just as endearing and romantic as everyone always assumed it would be.
"Y/N? Y/N, is that you?"
She hated how he said her name. But, unable to walk away any further, she plastered on a wide smile and spun around, waving as if he was just an old neighbor or friend she'd run into on the street. "Oh! Hey, Charlie! Gosh, yeah, hey, sorry. Um, I was just... um..."
She didn't have an answer, not a convenient one anyway.
She didn't quite see the glimmer in his eyes when his nickname flowed so easily off her lips, how his heart fluttered just by the sound of her Dutch accent had said his name so loudly. He prayed she hadn't seen it, hadn't seen how badly he wanted to hear it again. He had never realized how badly he wanted to hear it from her lips again.
"Where you outside the door?" He frowned. "How long have you been out here? It's freezing!"
Her eyes narrowed, looking up at the falling snow from the dark sky above. Night had fallen hours ago, but time seems quite lost on her. "Uh... you know. Just... was in the neighborhood..."
