national treasures| Charles Leclerc

seventeen

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

The race is going well for me so far. 

I'm in the zone, focused on the track, and my car responding well.

I've worked so hard to get here, and in moments like this, I feel like everything is clicking. 

That is, until a loud crash echoes through the circuit, followed by a sudden red flag. 

The cars come to a halt, the drivers slow down, and I see the marshals rushing toward the wreckage.

I don't even need to look twice to know who it is—Lance Stroll and Logan Sargent. 

The sight of their cars tangled together, both drivers shaken, makes my stomach drop. 

There's a tense moment as the track goes quiet, everyone holding their breath, waiting for news. 

The red flag is the right call, but it doesn't ease the dread pooling in my chest. 

We all know the risks we take out there, but when something like this happens, it's a stark reminder of just how dangerous this sport can be.

I try to push it out of my mind as the race is paused, but my thoughts keep drifting back to the wreck. 

I'm not the only one. 

The paddock is on edge, the energy in the air heavy with concern. 

It's almost as if everything else—my performance, the rivalry, the stress—is secondary to the well-being of my fellow drivers.

I'm sitting in the garage when I see Charles walking toward me. 

At first, I wonder if it's just my mind playing tricks, but no—he's headed straight for me. 

I tense up, wondering if he's come to say something awkward, something about the race or the incident. 

But when he stops in front of me, there's none of the usual stiffness in his posture. 

Instead, he seems... concerned.

"Are you okay?" His voice is quiet, a far cry from the usual bravado I'm used to hearing from him.

I blink, surprised by the softness in his tone. "Yeah, I'm fine. I wasn't involved, so... just worried about Lance and Logan."

"I know," he says, glancing toward the track, his eyes briefly darting to where the wrecked cars are being towed off. "It's scary, seeing that happen. Glad you're safe."

His words catch me off guard. 

We haven't spoken like this in a long time. 

The usual tension, the unspoken weight between us, is still there, but it feels... different this time. 

It's not forced. 

There's a vulnerability in his eyes that I don't often see, a glimpse of the person I once knew. 

The person I'm still not sure how to deal with.

"Thanks," I reply, my voice quieter than I intended. 

I look at him, searching his face for any trace of the old Charles, the one who used to know me better than anyone. 

"I'm just... glad it wasn't worse. They're both alright, right?"

"Yeah," he nods, his brow furrowing. "They're both shaken up, but they'll be okay."

We fall into a silence, but it's not uncomfortable.