Mon Amour | 𝑪.𝑳

Part 37

Lyla opens the door just wide enough to fit through before closing it behind her and leaving Arthur and Lorenzo outside. Turning around, she was greeted by the complete mess that was Charles LeClerc.

The driver was clinging to Pascale like she was his lifeline. The older woman was running her fingers though her sons hair and whispering in gentle French to try and calm him down but it didn't seem to be working and Pascale nearly cried herself when she looked up to Lyla and saw the look that she was portraying when she saw the state Charles was in.

Lyla sat down on the edge of the sofa, putting a hand on Charles' knee which made him flinch at the contact and cause her to pull her hand back, biting down on her bottom lip.

"Its Lyla." Pascale mutters.

"Lyla's here?" Charles seemed to perk up slightly.

"I'm here." Lyla whispers. "I'm right here."

Charles loosened his grip on Pascale, lifting his head from her shoulder so he could see Lyla with his own eyes before he shuffled forwards and let himself be enclosed by the safety her arms provided him with. Pascale sighed sadly, especially when she saw Lyla tear up as Charles' body shook in her arms whilst his sobs were muffled by his shoulder.

"Don't leave." He says quietly, Pascale frowning at his vulnerable voice.

"I'm not leaving." Lyla replies. "Your stuck with me forever, Charlie."

"I'll give you some time." Pascale says, standing up.

She places a hand on Lyla's shoulder and Lyla smiles. Pascale moved to the door and opened it slightly, sending her son and daughter a sad smile before slipping out and closing the door behind her. Lyla could hear her telling Lorenzo and Arthur they would go home and speak to Charles later but neither brother was having it and eventually, Lorenzo told Pascale he would driver Arthur home later on and Pascale left the two of them sat outside of the door.

The outside world was still turning, although it seemed to have stopped inside Charles' drivers room to let him process and come to terms with everything that was happening.

He did eventually calm down and sat up when Lyla dropped her arms.

She used her hands to cup his face, wiping the tears from his face with the pads of her thumbs and smiling softly at him as he held eye contact with her. His green eyes continuously teared up again and again but every time one of them fell, Lyla's thumb was there to wipe it away.

"Don't cry, pretty boy." Lyla whispers, a small frown on her face when another tear fell.

"Why doesn't it ever go right for me, Delilah?" Charles asks.

"I don't know, Charlie." Lyla admits.

"Just once I want to win. Just once." He shakes his head. "One time, for Papa and Jules."

"I know." Lyla nods, grabbing his face again since she had dropped her hands. "I know."

More tears fell but she quickly wiped them away, resting her forehead against his.

It was a sombre subject and a silence hung in the air between them until he pulled away from her and she dropped her hands, watching him run a hand though his hair before groaning and running them both down his face. Charles then moved back so he could lean against the back of the sofa, pulling his knees up towards his chest and looking at his hands where he then started to pick at the scabs that had replaced the crescent-shaped scars on his palms.

"Don't pick at them." Lyla mutters, shaking her head at him.

"Sorry." Charles mutters, dropping each hand to his side. "Think I should retire now?"