𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 ★ charles leclerc

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙮 𝙛𝙞𝙫𝙚, charles

❝ just for you i'd let it happen. ❞
⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

"You remember that one night after the Austrian Grand Prix?" I start as I sit on her couch and watch her on the ground, playing guitar, and writing down some stuff on her pink notebook she carries around all the time.

She stops mid-note and raises her head to look at me. "Uhm... Was I drunk?" She questions and I chuckle, shaking my head no.

"You came knocking on my door around midnight, you wanted to use the piano." I continue and she opens her mouth, slowly recalling as she nods along. "What were you writing that night?"

She freezes. "None of your business." She mumbles going back to writing.

Okay? Now I'm interested.

I slowly remove Willow from my lap and sit her down on the couch before sliding down and taking a seat next to her on the floor.

"What are you writing now then, pretty girl?" I whisper-ask, sitting right next to her, my hand around her neck and leaning in closer to her, trying to read her notes.

"Just a random song." She answers as she crosses out a word and replaces it.

"Can I see?"  I ask, my hand reaching for the notebook but she slaps it away.

"No. My songs are private." She answers.

"I've heard one before." I remember the night she slept over when she first moved in. That's the first time and maybe only time I heard her voice.

It's so soft and intimate, and emotionally raw. And her vibrato is so vulnerable with that hushy-whispery tone of hers. It's as if she doesn't want to be heard.

Oh!

She doesn't want to be heard. The low tone and not sharing her writing with anyone. It makes sense. But why? That doesn't.

"That was because... I don't know, I was dumb." She mutters.

I move and turn around to face her instead. She stops playing with the strings and looks at me. "What are you doing?" She asks.

"Why won't you let me listen to your music?" I ask, sitting and holding my knees up together.

She raises her shoulder, laying her head down on the middle of her guitar. "I just... I'm a driver you know? Being a songwriter too? I'm barely respected as it is. Singing love songs like a teenage girl doesn't help. That doesn't work together." She explains but it's definitely much more than that.

You don't usually find female drivers, that didn't stop her. Making the world listen to her songs is now 'not working'? That's not it.

"Why are you lying to me, Freckles? You don't lie." I insist, looking her in the eyes. She takes a small breath and frowns.

"I know I can drive. I know I'm good at it." She starts explaining, knowing she can't handle not telling me for too long. That's the thing between us. There's just this kind of feeling that, we can't keep out too long. "But I don't know that I can write. It's just this thing I do from time to time. I enjoy it, I like it, but it feels too personal to let other people hear. I don't even know if they'll like it."