Her || Charles Leclerc

41. Hygge

The high-pitched tone of the alarm shattered the stillness of the early morning. Matilde stirred under the covers, groaning softly as the noise dragged her from her warm sleep cocoon. Her hand shot out instinctively, searching for her phone to silence the offending sound, but it wasn't her phone making the noise.

She sighed and pulled the covers over her head. It was way too early to wake up.

The alarm cut off abruptly, leaving an oppressive silence behind. She heard and felt someone move beside her, but she let that be. After a few seconds, she drifted off again, only to be greeted by another alarm a couple of minutes later. The second alarm blared through the room, more insistent and shrill than the first.

Matilde groaned louder this time, her hand clutching the duvet tighter as if it could shield her from the merciless assault. "Charles," she grumbled, her voice hoarse with sleep. "Why do you need two alarms? Are you trying to kill me?"

A soft chuckle came from beside her, followed by the sound of sheets rustling. Charles reached over, silencing the second alarm with a practiced tap on his phone. "Sorry," he whispered. "I forgot I set two alarms. The first one's to wake up, the second's to make sure I actually get out of bed."

Matilde didn't respond. She simply let out a muffled whimper and curled into herself under the duvet.

"Come on, Mat," he said, gently tugging at the corner of the blanket. This was the first time he saw a grumpy morning person in Matilde. But perhaps it was because of the lack of sleep. "You need to get up, too."

"I don't care," she mumbled, her voice barely audible. Then she removed the covers from her face, looking at him with squinted eyes. "Morning," she mumbled.

"Good morning." His smile widened as he watched Matilde's groggy expression slowly shift into something resembling awareness. She squinted at him, her messy hair falling over her face, and he couldn't help but laugh softly.

"What's so funny?" she mumbled, her voice muffled as she turned her face into the pillow.

"You," he teased, brushing a strand of hair away from her cheek. "You're not exactly a morning person, are you?"

"Not when someone sets a thousand alarms," she grumbled, though there was no real bite in her tone. "What's your problem? Do you have stock in alarm companies or something?"

Charles laughed, his warm breath fanning over her skin as he leaned closer. "Maybe I just wanted to spend more time with you this morning."

Matilde peeked one eye open at him, her lips twitching into a faint smile despite her best efforts to stay grumpy. "Smooth," she muttered, but she shifted closer, resting her head on his chest.

He wrapped an arm around her, his hand trailing lazily up and down her back. "See? Not so bad being awake, is it?"

"Debatable," she mumbled, her voice already sounding drowsy again.

They stayed like that for a while, the world outside their little bubble forgotten. The steady rhythm of Charles's breathing, the warmth of his hand on her back, and the softness of the moment made it hard to care about anything else.

Eventually, Matilde tilted her head up to look at him, her sleepy gaze meeting his. "You know," she said, her voice low, "if you want me to get up, this isn't helping."

"Then, let's get up," he said, which made her nod. He planted a kiss on her hair. "Ready for today?" They both got up and stepped out of bed.

"No," she honestly shared and made a bun in her hair. "Fuck, it's race day." The realisation hit her. "The last race of the season." A rush of nerves flushed through her veins.