'Maya Woods loses her cool in Austin'
'Desperate championship wannabe: Maya Woods vs Pierre Gasly drama'
'Maya Woods goes for Pierre Gasly after three-car crash in Austin'
'Hurt Charles Leclerc? It's your funeral.'
'I think she was just worried for Charles and annoyed about the DNF: Gasly on heated exchange with Woods during red flag.'
--------------------
I look up from my phone, closing Twitter with a heavy sigh.
'Okay, be honest. Did I overreact?'
Charles also glances up, meeting my eyes from where he's sitting on the opposite side of the hotel room. He opens his mouth, as if he's going to say something, then simply closes it again, grimaces, and nods. I close my eyes and dramatically collapse backwards onto my bed.
'I didn't mean to.' I mutter, under my breath.
And it's the truth. Watching the clip back, I actually can't quite believe it's me. I don't know what possessed me in that moment, but I look totally insane, and as for all the shit I said to poor Pierre...
'If it makes you feel any better,' Charles finally pipes up, 'Pierre's not holding it against you.'
'No?'
'No. I think he understood that you weren't thinking about what you were doing, and he's accepted your apology.'
I turn my head sharply to look over at him.
'But I didn't apologise yet.'
'I did it for you. Because I already know you're sorry.'
'And he said it's okay?'
'Yeah.'
'Thanks.'
'No worries.'
There's a moment of silence, but I can feel the weight of something hanging in the air. It's a tension that has been there ever since we got back from the race, radiating out of Charles like heat from a fire. I can tell that he wants to say something, ask something. Something he's afraid to voice. And I decide to make it a bit easier for him.
'What is it?' I ask, after a minute or two.
'What d'you mean?'
'You want to say something. What is it?'
'I don't...'
'Charles. Don't try that, you know it doesn't work on me.'
'I'm not trying anything.'
'You're trying to brush it off - whatever it is - probably because it might create conflict. But you don't have to. Not with me.'
Another heavy silence. I sit up on the bed, leaning back against the pillows and giving Charles my full attention. For the first time, I realise how uneasy he seems. He's twirling the ring on his index finger and one leg is bouncing feverishly. Suddenly, he can't seem to look me in the eyes, gaze instead glued to the hotel carpet, cheeks flushed slightly red.
'I just...' He begins, then stops, 'Pierre told me some of what you said to him.'
'Okay...'
Nerves start to flutter in my stomach, brain anxiously trawling through everything I said, searching for what might have made Charles like this.
YOU ARE READING
Clean Air - Charles Leclerc
Fanfiction'It's easy to hate someone when you don't know their story. Before, I saw him as the one thing getting in my way, someone who breezed in and took everything from me with no good reason why. But I came to realise that both of us were carrying huge bu...
