Chapter Text
Night falls in Maranello.
And with it, the lights begin to come on over the hilly landscape, with gentle undulations covered in vineyards in the villages surrounding Ferrari's heartland.
And Charles Leclerc was there, watching him intently as his gaze wandered across that bright and dazzling landscape...
That night had been tough. Things at the factory weren't going as expected for the team, and the working relationship with his teammate wasn't as wonderful as Ferrari's marketing team had made it out to be, and somehow, it was taking its toll on his performance on the track.
He and Lewis had nothing in common. Their visions and approaches to the team were completely opposite, trying to get the best performance from a car that wasn't meeting the expected goals, which was somehow causing friction in their working relationship in marketing and promotion.
Charles hated that.
He hated admitting that he was always right.
The intermittent "beep" of the cell phone intercom buzzed in his eardrums, like a deep echo. And the fact that he'd had half a bottle of grappa in his system didn't help him regain his composure either.
He was anxious that he wasn't answering his calls.
And Charles hated it when he didn't.
He sighed deeply when his voicemail rang on the other end of the line, echoing the distinctive Spanish accent that had been tormenting him for months.
Hola, I’m Carlos. I can't answer right now, but leave a message and hopefully I'll get back to you. Byeeeee!”
Charles doesn't notice when his eyes begin to fill with unshed tears.
The tears he'd probably been holding back since he decided to make the call. Carlos's voice kept echoing in his ears, a reminder that he'd always have him so close, yet so far away...
His feet wobble with difficulty as he balances the bottle in his left hand, while holding his cell phone to his ear, a little more tightly than he should. But he's angry, and he doesn't even really know who he's angry with.
"No, yes... yes, I know," he hisses, in a weak attempt to pronounce the words correctly while answering a question only he himself has been asking himself in his head. "You're the one to blame for why I'm such a mess now..." he says, before continuing, "You... Carlos, because you mess up my life. I wish I'd never met you....I wish I'd never let you into my life... I HATE you!"
Charles isn't aware when his senses have failed him and his body hits the crystal-clear water of the pool, but Charles lets himself be carried away by the emptiness...
...because sadness is deeper when there's no one else to share it with.