Formula 1 One-Shots (II)

Charles Leclerc [No Sleep]

A/N Wished by makyna1

WORDS: 1004

PROMPT: "You need to sleep, this is not healthy."
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I have been at my desk for what feels like forever. The soft hum of my computer is the only sound in the otherwise quiet apartment. Blinking rapidly, I try to focus on the screen, numbers and letters dancing around without making sense. The coffee cup beside me is already empty, yet my hand reaches for it anyway from time to time, as if the motion alone would help me stay awake. My eyelids feel heavy, and my body, even though it doesn't move, still seems to hum with an anxious kind of energy.

It is nearing 2 a.m., and my work is nowhere near done, deadlines creeping up on me, and they don't forgive me any breaks. Every time I try to push forward, my brain feels like I've just run into a brick wall. But I can't stop now. Not when the spreadsheet isn't finished, like my boss is expecting it as a result an hour into the next workday.

I rub my hand over my face, feeling the exhaustion settling in. If I could just power through a little bit longer, I could finish everything. Then I could sleep. Then I could rest.

Sleep.

The word feels like a luxury to me at the moment, something I haven't had in the last few days. It's strange to think that a few hours ago, my boyfriend Charles had called to check in on me, his voice filled with concern.

"You need to sleep, love. This is not healthy," Charles had told me, his tone worried but still warm.

I laughed it off, brushing aside his comment as if it were nothing. Still feeling fine, I assured him. I always manage to get through it. There is no need to worry; I can handle it.

Now, staring at the screen, the words "not healthy" repeat themselves in my mind over and over again. My eyes feel dry, and my neck aches from the position I have been sitting in for hours. I lean back in the chair and close my eyes for a moment, hoping this short break could help me gather all my strength.

The soft vibration of my phone wakes me up. I didn't even realize that I had dozed off. I pick up the phone groggily, squinting at the screen to read the name. It's Charles again.

"Hi," I whisper, trying to sound at least a bit awake. "I'm okay, really."

"Love," Charles's voice is soft, filled with concern. "I can hear it in your voice. You're running on less than the last bit of energy. You need to take care of yourself. You're not doing yourself or anyone any good like this."

I rub my temples. "I can't, Charles. I'm too close. If I stop now, I'll fall behind, and I can't afford that. Not with everything that needs to be done."

"But you'll burn out if you keep this up. You can't keep pushing yourself like this. You're not a robot. You need to rest and take care of yourself."

The words pierce through the fog of exhaustion around me. I hate how right Charles is, but still, I can't stop now. Not when the work is so close to being finished.

"I just need a little more time, I swear," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I am serious, love," Charles insists. "You're not indestructible. This is your health, and you need to sleep."

I sigh and rub my eyes again. There is a long pause at the end of the line. When Charles speaks next, his voice is quiet, almost like he's speaking to himself.

"You know, when I was new at Ferrari, I stayed up for almost three days straight, thinking I could just power through. I thought I could do it all—finish the task, ace the racing, and keep up with my life. But eventually, my body just gave out. I couldn't think straight. I couldn't focus. I was a danger to myself and others. I don't want that to happen to you. Please don't let it."

I swallow hard, the weight of Charles's words settling deep in my chest. I can't help but feel the truth in them as if his warning wasn't enough already. It's a reminder I needed to hear. A reminder of how easily I could push myself too far and lose control.

"Okay," I finally say, my voice small. "I'll go to bed, but just for a little while."

Charles lets out a soft laugh. "I am serious, love. Don't just say it, do it. Set the alarm for the morning and take a real break. You need it."

I hesitate, but then I nod to myself, knowing that Charles isn't able to see me. My eyes linger on the screen, the numbers and the looming deadline. But inside me, a quiet part that had been screaming for hours finally lets its defences crumble.

"I'll do it," I say, my voice firm now. "I'll take care of myself. But I swear I am finishing this first thing in the morning."

"You'll do great," Charles replies, his voice filled with warmth and relief. "You will feel so much better after a good rest."

I smile as I set the phone down, save the document, and turn off the computer. Stretching my limbs, feeling the tension in my body slowly begin to release. I am tired, very tired, but there is a strange form of comfort in knowing that I don't have to keep fighting this battle anymore.

As I make my way over to the bed, the darkness of my room wraps around me like a soft, comforting blanket. I sink into the sheets and close my eyes, finally allowing my body to relax. The world will still be there when I wake up again, but tonight, I can rest. I can finally sleep.

And for the first time in days, I let myself believe that taking care of myself is more important than finishing any task.