Gasoline - [Charles Leclerc]

1.5

Wow. Bahrain sucks. Charles took a seat on the leather couch in his driver's room, his elbows resting on his knees, overall down to his waist and his fireproof undershirt was soaked with his sweat. The fan was on and gently blew some fresher air his way. He fiddled with the bracelet around his wrist and he was quiet, having no particular feeling as he started down at the Ferrari red shoes on his feet. That would be his first win, if the car didn't slow down in the last half of the race. It had hurted that he had so say that the safety car saved him. Hell, it sounded even ironic. His eyes flickered to the trophy for the third place that stood next to him on the floor. He didn't want that trophy. He wanted the biggest one that had been handed to Lewis Hamilton today. And the Mercedes team garage even dared to clap as if it was the overtake of the year. The race had started so strong, but ended so weakly.

What relieved Charles a slight bit, was that it wasn't his own mistake. He hadn't parked the car in the wall, he hadn't been reckless, he had fair fights with the others on track. It was just the car that wasn't reliable today. He wasn't even mad. He was just sad, disappointed, and those feelings were even worse than anger. He had given short answers to the journalists, short answers to the Parc Ferme interview and he had appreciated the nice words of the winner and from Seb and his crew, but nice words weren't going to give him the victory he deserved. Saturday had been a festive day, his first pole position. Edrice had called him to say she was so happy for him and she'd quickly hang up the phone to let him celebrate with his team after saying he was totally going to win the race today. Charles moved his fingers through his hair, it was probably completely messed up after it was stuck under his helmet for nearly two hours.

Charles took a deep breath and lifted his head, leaning back against the couch and taking his water bottle to get rid of his dry throat. Okay, enough sad-time, next time will be better. He didn't allow himself to think about it too much. It had happened, he couldn't turn back time. He could only move on. "Charles, pronta?". Andrea peaked around the door as he had left his driver alone for a bit. It was time to leave the circuit, the team had packed up already and they were about to get to the airport to leave Bahrain. "Ten minutes". Charles replied and gave him a small smile, jumping up from the couch to get changed as he still hadn't gotten out of his overall. He quickly replaced it for a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, stuffing all of his belongings in his bag before making his way outside. Multiple mechanics patted his back and sang the Italian national anthem afterwards, laughter still able to echo through the paddock. Charles promissed they'd hear their anthem next time, after the Monegasque of course.

He was tired, the race had been intense as it was warm here. He looked forward to eat something at the airport and then sleep the whole flight if possible. Edrice could imagine he was tired and not in such a happy mood as he Always was, so she decided to leave him be and she'd text or call him later, not wanting to bother him. She was joining him in Shanghai in two weeks and she absolutley looked forward to it. She had been to Geneva meanwhile, where she had taken over the Instagram stories of Maserati and had done her conference for Audi together with Lucas di Grassi and Audi DTM drivers. She had flown back to London afterwards, recording for Lexus with the camera team and then wrote back to the invitation she had received for an interview and a photoshoot with Vogue. She had been happy to seen their PR in her email, Vogue was such a big magazine and she felt honoured that they'd want her on the cover.

Jomana hadn't replied to her message about it yet, but that could be because she was on her way to Gizeh and the flight was quite long, including a lay over as she had told. Maybe she could spend some time with Charles inbetween as well, before she'd see him again as they went with the jet he hired to Shanghia, yeah that would be great.

Charles arrived back in Nice around four in the morning. He had slept some hours of the eleven hour flight, but remained awake the rest of the time. Andrea had gone to his own apartment and so did Charles, glad he could dive in his own bed again. He had no trouble shoving his suitcase out of the way and stripping himself from his clothes to sleep another four hours atleast. He woke up again when his alarm of nine o'clock rung and his hand reached over to the nightstand to turn it off. Charles scrolled through his contacts to find Edrice, tapping on the FaceTime icon this time as he not only wanted to hear her voice. It took her a moment, but eventually her head popped up in the screen. "Hi, Charles". Her voice sounded and his heart warmed up as he rolled to his side to rest his arm on the pillow. "Hey". His voice croaked with sleep and it caused her to chuckle.