HOME | charles leclerc

sixteen.

My eyes fluttered open and I immediately squeezed them shut, the sunlight bleeding in through the windows making my head throb.

"Oh, fuck." I muttered, pulling my comforter over my head.

How much did I drink last night?

I noticed that I was no longer wearing the dress I'd worn last night, but instead an oversized tshirt – potentially one I'd borrowed from Lando or Charles in the past. Interesting, I don't remember changing.

Rolling over and seeing I was alone in bed was comforting.

Clearly, I was drunk enough that I could've definitely brought someone home with me, but the other side of my bed didn't even look touched. So, I spent the night alone.

How had I gotten home?

I let out a groan, tossing the covers off of me and reluctantly rolled out of bed. I might as well remove what was left of my makeup and shower. I think Charles and I are going out to lunch today? I vaguely remember making those plans on the way to the club last night.

My bare feet carried me to my ensuite, I flicked the light on as I stepped in front of the mirror. And my makeup was gone?

There's no way I took that off by myself last night.

I hate not remembering anything. I usually remember what happens when I'm drunk, but clearly I had been more drunk than I thought. After a certain point last night, all of my memories were gone. It was almost as if half the night never happened.

After turning the shower on and letting it heat up, I peeled off my pajamas and slipped inside. For the most part, I took quick showers, but due to how intensely my head was throbbing at the moment, a long shower sounds extremely enticing.

The shower lasted for longer than I thought, but it was worth it, seeing as my head only hurt a little now. I even took my time getting ready, letting my hair air dry as I scoured my closet for something to wear. Maybe I should've put in more effort, but dressing nice while suffering through a hangover just didn't work.

My jeans, hoodie, and sneakers were about as dressed up as I was going to get. Hopefully Charles hand't planned anything too fancy for lunch otherwise we'd either have to change restaurants or I was going to be severely underdressed.

"Bonjour!" (Hello!) I heard his voice ring through my apartment as he used his spare key to get in.

Was it really that late in the day already?

"Bonjour Charlie! Je suis dans ma chambre." (Good morning, Charlie! I'm in my bedroom.)

A few seconds later and he showed up in my bedroom door, thankfully, dressed similarly to me.

He had the sweetest smile on his face. I wonder what had him so happy? "Comment se passe ta gueule de bois?" (How is your hangover?)

"Le réveil a été terrible." (Waking up was terrible.) I laughed, running a hand through my hair as I meandered around the room to gather everything I needed before we left. "Je ne me souviens de rien après la sixième salve de tirs." (I don't remember anything after the sixth round of shots.)

I grabbed my phone from my bed, tossing it in the tote bag I planned to take with me. I furrowed my brows, suddenly aware that Charles hadn't responded to what I said. He normally always took the chance to poke fun of me for my hangovers.

My gaze found him when I finally turned to face him, a frown instantly pulling on my face. His smile was gone and he looked like a kicked puppy.

"Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?" (What's wrong?) I queried.