𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘴 , charles leclerc

⇢ 11. voicmails and monaco

TWO GHOSTS.
11. ❛ voicemails and monaco. ❜

SITTING DOWN IN THE manager's office, Charles watched with careful eyes as the manager examined the phone. He had opened it up and was looking into the wiring to check if anything was damaged.

"I'll tell you what," The manager started, toying with the wiring a little before moving on to examine the screen, "You're lucky these older iPhones are pretty durable."

"Yeah." Charles nodded with the best smile he could form as he intently watched, hoping that, in the end, the phone would still work.

"So I take it these messages you need to get to; they must be very important." The man smiled and quickly glanced up at Charles before looking back at the phone.

"Yes." Charles sighed and rubbed his forehead, running his fingers through his hair in the process, "There's just one."

The manager pursed his lips and nodded, his eyes tender as he worked harder to fix the phone, "Just give me one second here. I will go check if I have a spare screen in storage."

The man left, and with every minute that passed, Charles felt like it was an eternity. He never thought he'd be attached to such a little object, but the phone on the desk held more power over him than almost anything else.

"I didn't, but I do have a screen protector, so you don't cut yourself or get injured." The older man came back and sat back down, reassembling the phone to just the way it was. "All right. Well, it's not going to win any beauty contest, but it should work just fine now."

"It's fixed?" Charles breathed out and swallowed the lump in his throat, his eyes glued to the old grey iPhone.

"Yes, now I'll give you some privacy, and you can check for yourself." The older man smiled, the corners of his eyes wrinkling as he patted Charles on the shoulder before walking out.

Charles stayed frozen in his seat before he reached out to grab the phone, his hands trembling ever so slightly. He turned it on and went to the voicemail box, clicking on the only voicemail on the list from six years ago.

"December 21st, one saved message." The automated voice spoke first before a beep was sounded out, followed by a soft, saddened voice. "Ciao, Charles. It's me. Sof..."

Knitting his brows with emotion, Charles sniffed and held the phone to his ear. His shoulders relaxed, and he wiped his hand down his face, dragging his soft, almost porcelain-like skin down as he listened intently to the rest of the voicemail play.

He could still remember a time when his eyes hurt from staring at a screen, trying to forget the memories. When his legs ached from running through empty streets trying to forget all the nights she slept in his sheets. When his hands trembled from trying to distract himself in the pages of a book, a vintage, red leather bound, gold embellished, 695-page poetry book that had little Italian annotations inside. He'd been hoping to forget her smile and the way she looked, but eventually, he realized it was impossible to forget her altogether.

It's so odd how just yesterday he was boiling with anger, and today he sat in the dimly lit room alone, his lip quivering just slightly as he shut his eyes and dropped his head low, bringing the phone down to the table as the voicemail finished.

OF COURSE, SOFIA HAD TAKEN Jules to Monaco before. After all, Sofia's dad still lived there and operated the family fashion house branch stationed in Monaco. Every once in a while, her job would require her to make business errands in Monaco, so she'd usually take her daughter with her. But for some reason, Jules always liked for her mum to show her around Monaco every time they were there. This time was no exception.

Jules was on cloud nine. She loved each story and each little hidden spot Sofia told her about. Each one built the person her mum is today, and Jules will forever treasure that. She loved how everyone seemed to know her mum around and how small but cozy the country was. She loved the feeling of safety and unity and wished one day she could live here with her mum.

Jules smiled as she held Sofia's hand, the sun reflecting off the Mediterranean waters. "I like to think of Monaco as a tiny paradise on the French Riviera, fiorellina," Sofia explained, pointing to the luxurious yachts in the harbor.

They strolled through the narrow streets of Monte Carlo, Sofia reminiscing about her childhood. "Over there is the bakery where I used to buy warm croissants every Sunday morning with my best friend," she shared, her eyes sparkling with memories. "And if it were a Formula 1 weekend, we'd get a tárte aux fraises (strawberry tart) and share it."

"With Auntie Rora?" Jules looked up at her mum curiously and became more curious when Sofia shook her head.

"No, with another friend." Sofia smiled warmly and lightly squeezed her daughter's hand before glancing longingly at the bakery as they passed.

"Oh," Jules nodded before she made a sharp turn and tugged on her mum's hand, leading the way inside the bakery that read Noémie's Boulangerie, "I want to try something then. Let's go."

a/n: hey, I hope you all are enjoying the story!! I just wanted to pop in here to ask a quick question. If I were to make another f1 fic, for which driver would you all want it on?