national treasures| Charles Leclerc

one

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

I remember the sound of the engines, the smell of rubber and gasoline filling the air, and the rush of adrenaline that flowed through my veins every time I climbed into that kart.

But what I remember most was Charles.

His laughter rang through the track as we raced side by side, always pushing each other, always striving to be just a little bit faster.

Back then, it felt like nothing else mattered.

It was just us, the track, and the endless possibilities.

We'd challenge each other to beat our times, teasing each other whenever one of us took the lead.

But it wasn't just about competition; it was about the bond we shared.

I don't think we ever said it out loud, but it was clear.

We were inseparable.

Our friendship grew in the quiet moments between races, when we'd sit together, our hearts still racing from the laps, talking about everything and nothing.

I'd catch him glancing at me with a smile, his eyes sparkling, and I'd feel a flutter in my chest.

It was simple then—our connection, our first love, was like the perfect race.

No mistakes, no hesitations, just the thrill of being together.

The first time he kissed me, it wasn't like anything I had imagined.

It was just as effortless as everything else between us.

But at that moment, I knew.

We were more than just friends—we were everything to each other.

But life has a way of changing things.

When Charles left for F1, everything shifted.

The bond we shared, the love we thought would last, shattered.

We didn't get a chance to say goodbye, not really.

And now, years later, I can't help but wonder if that time we shared was just a dream or something more.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

The roar of the engines and the hum of voices in the paddock felt surreal.

Here I was, dressed in Mercedes gear, walking the track I had dreamed of for years.

This was my moment, my first race weekend in Formula 1, and I could feel the anticipation buzzing under my skin.

I wanted to savour every second, but the nerves wouldn't quite let me.

"Hey, rookie," Lewis grinned, clapping a hand on my shoulder as we walked toward the garages.

"First weekend—how are you feeling?"

I laughed, trying to shrug off the tension knotting in my stomach.

"Excited. Nervous. Mostly trying not to trip over my own feet."

"Good," he said, nodding.

"Use that. It's normal. Besides, you'll be fine out there. You wouldn't be here if you weren't ready."

I nodded, grateful for the encouragement.

Lewis had been incredibly supportive since I joined Mercedes.

His confidence in me steadied my nerves a little, but I couldn't ignore the pressure to perform.

I wasn't just here to race; I was here to make history, to prove that I belonged.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆