national treasures| Charles Leclerc

five

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

Watching her from the Ferrari pit, I'm hit with this strange feeling.

A mix of pride and regret that I didn't see coming. 

It's Camille out there, in the Mercedes, handling that car like she's been racing in F1 for years.

She's calm and precise, and every move she makes on track just... fits. 

I always knew she'd make it here; even when we were kids, she had this fire, this drive that set her apart. 

But seeing her now, so composed and confident, it feels surreal. 

She's changed, and yet, somehow, she's exactly the same.

I can't help but think back to the last time we were here, racing together as kids with everything ahead of us. 

And then, how I left—how I just cut it all off. 

I thought I was protecting both of us from the inevitable distance, the hurt. 

But now, standing here, I wonder if I was just protecting myself, too afraid of what would happen if I let her hold onto any part of me. 

Seeing her now, I feel the weight of that choice more than ever.

Part of me wants to go to her, to apologize for everything, for the way I just disappeared. 

But what would I even say? 

It's been years. 

She's grown; I've grown. 

Maybe she's already moved past it, left those old memories behind, and I'd just be dragging us both back into something we're better off leaving buried.

But then, I catch her in the distance, removing her helmet after the race, and smiling as she talks with her team. 

And I can't ignore the pull, that feeling that maybe there's something unfinished here. 

I want to tell her that I'm proud of her, that I can see the strength she's built all on her own. 

I just don't know if she'd even want to hear it from me.

So I stay put, watching from a distance, unsure if stepping forward will make things better—or just bring back the hurt we both tried so hard to forget.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

I spot him in the crowd, standing just beyond the Mercedes garage, and for a second, the noise of the track fades. 

Hugo, here, at my second race. 

Seeing him—taller, more grown up than I remember—feels surreal. 

It's been so long since he could come to one of my races; with school, life, and everything in between, it wasn't easy. 

But he's here, and the sight of him makes me feel like I've finally made it, like everything I've been working for is real.

His grin widens when he sees me, waving wildly, and I can't help but laugh. 

Hugo always believed in me, even when I doubted myself. 

He was the one who'd sit in the stands at karting races, cheering louder than anyone, telling anyone who would listen that his sister was going to be a Formula 1 driver someday. 

And now, here he is, watching me actually do it.

I feel this wave of gratitude, this overwhelming sense of pride.

Not just in myself.

But in him.

In us. 

After everything we've been through, all the tough years with Dad and losing Mom, Hugo's here, seeing this dream come to life. 

It's moments like these that remind me why I keep pushing, why I keep fighting to prove myself. 

Not just for me, but for us, for the family that stuck together even when everything felt impossible.

As I wave back, I feel steadier and more grounded. 

No matter what happens out on the track, having him here, seeing him cheer for me like he did when we were kids... it's everything. 

It's my reminder that, no matter how far I go, I'm never really alone. 

And that, somehow, makes me feel stronger than ever.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

𝓈𝓊𝓃𝓃𝓎 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓀𝓈:

Let me know if I should clarify who is talking/whose POV it is!