[2] ONE || C. LECLERC

TWENTY EIGHT

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CAMILLE

The feeling of Charles' warm body beside me caused me to wake with a jump. He was warm and comfortable, his arm draped loosely across my back and the top of my bum. I sighed, turning my head to face him and closing my eyes to see if I had any sleep left within me. It was hot, the warm sun burning through the curtains which we'd drawn shut after spending an hour sitting in the doorway, talking about Charles' feelings towards the race. I knew that he wouldn't be over it for a while; undoubtedly, it had upset him and it was the only thing playing on his mind.

"Camille?" Charles' voice was riddled with the sweet, heartwarming sound of sleep and I felt my chest flutter when he pulled me closer towards him. I reopened my eyes to find him stirring in his sleep, wetting his lip quickly with his tongue, his eyes remaining closed for another few seconds. Maybe he was trying to find more peaceful sleep like I was. I knew that wouldn't happen now. "Are you awake?"

"Yes, baby," I brought my fingers closer towards my eyes and used them to wake me up a little. A worn out sigh fell from my mouth, whilst Charles brushed his fingertips against the burning skin on my waist beneath my pyjama top. I smiled when Charles opened his eyes. "How are you feeling this morning after yesterday afternoon?"

"Fed up," he rolled onto his back, tugging forcefully onto the strands of his dark hair. I hated listening to the devastation in his voice, because there was nothing I could do to make him feel even the tiniest bit better. "Frustrated. Annoyed. Angry. Upset? I don't know, Camille, I just wish I could do it again."

"You're not disappointed about your loss, are you?" I knew Charles, and I knew that if he didn't get his anticipated finish, he was able to rest and sleep on it, then feel better about it in the morning. I wasn't getting that vibe right now. I knew it was something different.

He was hesitant to reply, but he managed to admit the truth after sighing and reaching for my hand, but continuing to stare towards the ceiling, "no. I let them down, Camille."

"Charles." I shook my head, sitting up and using my elbows to keep myself positioned comfortably beside his warm body. He didn't even look at me. His eyes were clouded over by a sheet of glossy tears, my heart clenching at the sight.

"Don't," he wasn't trying to hurt me. He was the one hurting right now, and despite anything he said to me, I had to take care of him. I knew that any harsh words which fell from his lips were simply out of angst. "I thought about them during every second of the race, thinking about how much my Papa would cry if he was here to see me cross the line. Jules; I thought about how he would rush out of the garage and break rules to get to me after I finished the race. I could see the look of happiness on their faces, but when Lewis passed me, all I could see was disappointment."

"I don't know what to say to you because I can't make that better," I felt like the worst person in the world. I was supposed to be the one who made him feel better when he was feeling down, but I couldn't even give that to Charles. "I'm sorry."

"Me too." I knew he would continue to doubt himself about this weekend and that it would be part of his everyday thought process for weeks to come.

I looked at him a few seconds longer; he didn't even look back at me. I understood, and I accepted that he was hurting. Leaving him alone to collect his thoughts was the best thing to do, so giving him space was my only option right now. I pushed the duvet away from my tanned legs and hung them over the side of the large mattress. Charles didn't acknowledge my movements and I could feel my chest aching as the seconds passed, tears slipping from his eyes and staining deep into his skin.