Misery | Charles Leclerc [Abandoned]

𝚃𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚢-𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗.

"Hey! Welcome, welcome." Lando opens the door happily for Charles who has Carlos next to him. The runner-up winner of the British Grand Prix steps aside so the two Ferrari drivers can enter the already crowded house. It is not so bad you can't walk but everywhere he looks he sees small groups of people chatting or dancing, all with drinks in their hand. The music is not too loud but it is enough for people to use the open space in the living room as a makeshift dance floor.

"Beer is in the fridge, other drinks as well, snacks are on the counters, just take whatever you want." Lando walks into the kitchen and opens the fridge to show it stocked to the brim with alcohol and soft drinks. How he has managed to get all that stuff on such a short notice is a mystery for Charles, but he is not complaining as he takes a bottle of beer from the fridge. "Feel free to dance or mingle or hang around, just don't forget to celebrate me and McLaren." He winks at the last statement before walking back into the living room.

"I never taught him to be so full of himself," Carlos says, watching his old teammate enter the living room with a lively cry and the whole room raises their drinks in cheers. "Must have been Daniel."

"What did I do?" A voice carried by an Australian accent comes up from behind them. Charles laughs when Carlos jumps high into the air at his shock. Daniel booms his loud laugh and opens the fridge. " I'm not that scary, right?"

"Terrifying," Charles chuckles and clicks his bottles to the newly opened one of Daniel Ricciardo. "It's good to see you, mate."

"Same to you," the Aussie smiles and turns back to Carlos. "Now what did I do?"

The three keep chatting for a bit but they are blocking the way to the drinks so they move out to the living room, looking around for somewhere to sit or stand freely. Charles scans the room with his eyes in search of a certain brunette.

"On your right," Carlos murmurs in his ears, the smirk in his voice clearly audible. Charles whips his head around and follows Carlos' gaze to the 'dance floor'. His ability to breath is taken from him and his jaw goes slack, making his mouth hang open.

God, fuck him.

She is so beautiful. Fayen has changed into a dark green cocktail dress that flows around her easily, exposing her long legs that end in her feet standing in high black heels. Her hair hangs loose in those soft waves, and it frames her face elegantly, even while she is moving to the beat of some reggaeton song he didn't know. She is dancing with Grace and another guy he didn't know. They are all laughing and Fayen's face is lit up with so much joy Charles feels the smile that comes to his own face. She is a goddess.

The way she is moving is anything but holy. It is utterly sinful. Reggaeton is a Spanish music style which is combined with a lot of hip shaking and body rolling. Charles has nothing against the music, but at this moment he feels like the whole genre needs to not exist for him to keep his sanity in check. She is moving smoothly, like she knows what she is doing, while the other guy tries to teach Grace the intricacies of the dance style. Fayen is assisting him in being his partner while he demonstrates.

Charles wants to murder him.

"Who are we searching for?" Daniel asks curious, not missing the expression of pure lust and rage that has appeared on Charles' face.

Carlos chuckles and points with his chin. "Brunette in the green dress. Fayen Gasly to be precise." Daniel follows Carlos' line of sight and nods.

"Oh yes, she is a vision." The two men laugh and turn back to Charles who still hasn't been able to pry his eyes away from the dancing group - more people are joining them.

"Can you two fuck off," he mumbles and dugs his head before making his way through the crowd to stand at the other side of the room where he should be hidden by the shadows enough to not look like a watching creep. He hears the other two laugh harder when he leaves them and irritation flares in his chest.