✧ 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 ✧
where a driver with a fake relationship ends up falling for another team's graphic designer that holds too many secrets
"their secrecy was the one that join...
Despite running away as soon as possible from Barcelona after the race, back to Monaco, her face still remained in his memory, and despite everything he had tried to erase the memory of that night, it simply proved itself impossible, like a tattoo etched on his skin.
He simply climbed off from his bed after waking up, hoping the hot water from the shower falling onto his face would rid him from the spiraling thoughts, at least, for a long time. By the time he was back in the bedroom, a towel hung tightly on the hip area, with the hair dripping wet, before he picked the clothes.
Then something fell out from his backpack, that he hadn't put away still from when he had arrived back home, a red envelope that only had his name written up, in a cool font. He sat at the verge of his disheveled bed, to open it.
He turned nervous, as he was opening it, he didn't want to break the envelope, as well as anything that could be inside, even if it was just a piece of paper, a portrait of himself.
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He felt intrigued as to who the author could be, and when he turned the paper over, he stumbled upon a handwritten letter, that simply read:
Hi Charles,
I know that you most certainly have no idea of who I am, but I do know you, and I just wanted to say that you're one of my favorite drivers out there on the grid! I hope that you are reading this, meaning that I was finally able to go to a Grand Prix (it's not my first race though, but probably the first since you got into F1, been following your journey for a long time). I also want to thank you because, despite being a stranger, watching races has helped me a lot with my own issues
Thanks for taking the time to read the letter! :) With love, janice [@janicee.g]
That name was oddly familiar to him, but the reason felt strange. It's like he recognized a face by hearing, or in this case, seeing a name, but as he held the paper, nothing came through the memorabilia inside his brain.
— 🏎️ —
But nothing prepared him for how things would drastically turn at the Monaco Grand Prix. It was the most important race for him in the calendar, and the one he never got to finish, at all.
The day of the race hell broke loose, and never stopped pouring through the day. That wasn't such a good prelude for a race, again.
Despite finally being able to finish one home race, my happiness due to that had to get tainted because the decisions in the team completely messed up everything. From a perfect start at the front, to a not so good finish line, in a fourth place, while everything was soaked, to the cars and the track, to, something more deep, his face behind the helmet and balaclava, with tears of pure impotence.
He didn't want to look at his team. He just wanted to hide into his room, and never get out of there, at least, until the interviews, then hide again. This was one of the days that he couldn't bother to hide the anger that pooled in his soul, a broken heart with issues that only seem to get more and more damaged.
