Misery | Charles Leclerc [Abandoned]

𝚃𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚢-𝚏𝚒𝚟𝚎.

He looks up, ready to ask for clarification but at that moment the waiter comes back out with their drinks. Fayen takes the wine directly from him and takes two sips before lowering the glass and playing with it. She turns the foot in her hand and looks at the dancing liquid. Charles is not able to read her mind, but he has learned when to wait with Fayen. She will speak when given space and retreat and fight when pushed, that much he has learned by now. Progress.

So he waits, taking a sip from his own wine.

"It might- I mean-" She is searching for the words, not succeeding in finding them. She takes another sip and then puts the glass down turning to Charles. He meets her eyes over the table and sees she is gathering the courage to go on. He gets a weird feeling of Deja-vu from weeks ago when they were up on that roof again. Then, too, he had wanted to push, to coax her out of her defences. He remembered an overwhelming urge to take the woman in his arms then. He didn't. The same feeling creeps onto him now and the ember in his chest blazes. He can't think. The only thing getting past the sparks is the overwhelming push from his insides to touch. Hold.

Kiss.

Friends. We are friends. He can't push her. He won't.

But he could show her support and that he is there to listen to her. His heart starts speeding up as he moves his hand above the table and moves to place it over Fayen's that is resting next to her glass. He feels the shock vibrating through him, almost familiar at this point, when he rests his hand on hers. The static load between them is growing heavier.

She doesn't pull away. She just stares at their hands, his bigger than hers, but aligned perfectly. He feels her pulse quicken under his hand. His insides are screaming at him, his head chanting friends over and over and the tingling in his arm spreading to his arm into his chest fueling the ember to a small fire.

Charles doesn't know where his boldness comes from, but he curls his fingers around the edge of her hand. His thumb in the perfect position to swipe over her skin, once, twice.

She unlocks at the third. Her head snaps up and he hadn't noticed that he was leaning a little closer, so he leans away a little so he can look at her. Another assuring smile and she sighs. "That is my fault, I know." She takes another breath and then there is no stopping her.

"I was, in fact, ignoring you. I am sorry Charles. It was a petty thing to do and also immature. I just didn't know how to deal with you at that point." She flicks her eyes between his and their hands while rambling. He is having difficulty keeping up but he tries his hardest.

"It was going so well and I was enjoying texting you the most random things. I liked getting to know you, I really did. But is was confusing. I mean- well." She trails off the sentence. Charles' inside are not calming down from this explanation.

"And then I was also swamped with work for fashion week and you being in Canada doing, I don't know what, it kept my mind spinning and I couldn't focus on work. That is not to say that you don't have the right to do whatever you want." Her cheeks flush at the confession, but Charles doesn't get the chance to get a word in.

"And then Grace came along with all her poking and insinuations I just got mad. I was so stressed out and started blaming you because that was the easiest way to deal and not think about- well- yeah." She takes in a breath and looks down at their hands again. All the time Charles kept stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. A second of silence. Then she turns her hand so her palm is meeting Charles' and she folds her fingers around his hand. They are properly holding hands now and Charles feels like his heart is going to race away from him.

They could not do this. Be friends. But she squeezes his hand firmly.

"I am sorry. I'm just not good at this." She smiles weak and her eyes are searching his face for a reaction.

Charles' head is spinning. He is holding hands like a eight year old on the playground and he feels like he is on fire. Most of her words haven't fully registered and the only think he can think about is how soft her hand feels in his. How perfect. The last thing she said sinks in and he furrows his brow. He breathes and squeezes their hands again. "Good at what?"

Her eyes soften and a shame red comes to her cheeks. Then his hand feels suddenly like ice, he even imagines a draft blowing over his empty palm as Fayen retreats her hand from his.

"At feeling," she says, almost a whisper.

It's the most honest thing she has said to him. And that is saying a lot because they have had some heavy conversations already. It's like a punch to his throat and the air is pushed out form his airway. Feeling.

Feeling what? Feeling things for him?

He shakes his head, not knowing what to say to that, and he sees it happen. The walls that had crumbled under his touch go up again. Her eyes lose the curiosity they had a moment ago and the smile she grows on her face is not the smile he loves.

"Anyway, I just wanted to say sorry for that. I hope you can understand, I was under a lot of stress. I won't ghost you again." She nudges his shoulder in such a friendly manner Charles wants to throw up from the touch. "Promise."

He still doesn't say anything and Fayen's smile falters a little. "Charles?"

But he is consumed by his own thoughts. Feeling. It can't happen. His mind is all over the place, but the place where they settle is a name.

Pierre.

He will skin Charles alive if he knew. All this time Charles has thought Fayen didn't feel anything more than hatred and later maybe friendship, but if it is even slightly more... He can't lie to himself. He has feelings for the beautiful brunet in front of him that is still watching him with those intens grey eyes. But he has to lie. He can't take Pierre from Fayen. He will tear Charles appart, but his relationship with his sister will be touched as well and Charles is not going to be responsible for that.

He knows their relationship isn't easy as it is and a 'you hooked up with my bestfriend' problem, wouldn't help their bond.

Fayen her walls are Charles' greatest enemy, because they keep the woman from him. Keep her subdued, while she deserves to be bold and loud and beautiful. But now, now the walls are his best defence.

So he plasters a smile on his face and raises his glass to her. "Don't worry about it." He takes a sip and it feels like swallowing acid.

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