delicate - charles leclerc

fabrik nightclub

d e l i c a t e

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and it's hard to be at a party,
when i feel like an open wound

.҉     .҉     .҉

"I CAN'T BELIEVE you wore that slutty little dress just to cover it with a massive jacket," Nora complains, looking at the photos she took of me on her phone. My heeled boots click loudly with every step I take, filling the silence in the street.

"It feels wrong wearing this jacket," I say, stuffing my hands into the pockets. "Like it's high treason, you know? Like a Red Bull baby in a Ferrari jacket?"

"I guarantee you—and I say this affectionately—that no one will give a shit," she starts, her acylic nails make loud tapping noises on the glass of her iPhone. "I will give you fifty pounds if anyone even mentions it."

I push my hands further into the jacket, wrapping it around my body. I haven't worn anything this revealing since I was eighteen, maybe nineteen, then I met Jack and he didn't like me doing runway or modelling for Victoria's Secret or any other "sexy" company. Eventually he managed to find issues with any brand I collaborated with, so I put modelling behind me and I started to pursue acting for a while.

"You look good, Juni," Nora says, as if she can sense my apprehension.
"Is it too much? The little black dress and the eye makeup? I feel—"
"—I feel,"  Nora interjects, "that you have forgotten that you're a literal model. You look amazing, babes."

I love Nora. I really do. She's one of my best friends and understands me better than I do. She loves coming to the races with me, not because she loves Formula One, but because she loves meeting all the drivers. If I let her have her way, she would've snogged the face off of half of the eligible bachelors of F1 by now.

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The entrance to the club is swarming with people. From the Red Bull team to drivers and their partners, nearly every person involved with the races has gone out tonight. Nora and I are meeting Max and his girlfriend, Kelly, somewhere inside, it's been a while since I've gone out to a nightclub and in all honesty I can't really remember how to act in one.

Nora leads me by the hand through the crowd, pushing people out of her way as I apologise to them behind her.
"June!" I heard Max call from somewhere. I tugged on Nora's hand to stop her from walking on. "June!" He called again, and I see him standing by the bar with Kelly, waving us over.

I gave Max a quick hug to congratulate him on the race. I've known him since he started at Red Bull, when he was seventeen and I was sixteen. He's the closest thing I had to a brother when I was a teenager, I used to come out to the races just so I could see him. And privately, you know, just between myself, to see Daniel Ricciardo and some of the other drivers.

"Did you enjoy the race?" He asks, leaning against the bar "I don't think I saw you."
"God, you were amazing as per usual. I'm glad you're with Red Bull," I tell him.

Nora orders us drinks as Max is explaining how there's a VIP booth in the back for all the drivers if we're interested. Nora is, of course. Though I'm against her sleeping with any of the drivers, as soon as the season finishes they're fair game in her eyes and there's absolutely nothing I can do to stop her.

Once we have our drinks, Nora and I follow Max and Kelly to the VIP booth. A few drinks and a round of shots—just for Nora, though—later, Nora drunkenly abandoned me to "try and chat-up Danny Ric." I chose to stay at our table and debate upon opening my messages from Jack. There's nine texts, five Snapchats, three Instagram DMs and two missed calls. Just from today.

I sigh inwardly, clicking on messages.

imessage

jack mon cœur<3
I just want you to say that you are sorry. Then
we can forget all about this.

Juni baby, you know I'm a very forgiving person just
say that you are sorry. I will forgive.

June.

Last chance. If you do not apologise I will not take
you back. Say goodbye to being famous because
when I drop you people will forget all about you.

Mon amour I'm sorry. Can't you say sorry too?

I know you can see these you stupid bitch. 
Watch me move on.

Video attachment

Have fun being a nobody again. You
are nothing without me.

Nothing.

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I click on the video, against my better judgement, and watch him at a club somewhere, probably back in Paris. He's dancing with some girl, all I can think about is how pretty she is as he pulls her in for a kiss. I remember what that was like. Not vividly, it feels like it was so long ago when he would delicately guide my lips to his with a gentle hand. Most of the kisses we have had the last while have left a sour taste in my mouth. He would kiss me most when he was drunk.

"I like the jacket," a man says. I look up and recognise him immediately, not just from watching him at the races but from watching all his interviews and the occasional stalking of his Instagram.

"I'm Charles," he says, smiling. "Can I sit?"

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i watched charles week in LA vlog while writing this and the part where he plays basketball and has his shirt off??? omg... i need to be neutered lolz

but anyway if mf charles leclerc met me in a club and asks can i sit? like babes CAN I SIT??? jkjk (im not)(i am)(im not)

<m3