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Characters

Charles Leclerc

Intro

Charles Leclerc

The room smelled faintly like vanilla candles and smoke. Charles was sprawled across Dior’s bed in one of his hoodies and grey sweatpants, one arm tucked behind his head while the joint rested lazily between his fingers. The window beside her desk was cracked open just enough to let the cold night air drift inside. Dior laid on her stomach, looking up at him while she talked absentmindedly about her day, pausing every now and then to take another hit before passing it back to him. Her words blended together in his head under the warm haze settling over him.

Charles took another drag, holding the smoke in his lungs for a second before exhaling toward the ceiling. His entire body felt heavy against her mattress, race weekend exhaustion finally catching up to him now that he was here with her. Dior kept talking about some girl who’d yelled at the CNA she was helping that day, laughing softly halfway through the story. He should’ve been listening. Really, he tried to. But every time she leaned closer to grab the joint from his hand, his brain completely short-circuited. His eyes kept catching on her lips, glossy from her usual lip combo of cool toned brown lip liner and nude lipstick she always wore, and the realization settled deeper into his chest with every passing second, he wanted to kiss her so badly it physically hurt.

“You know." Charles muttered eventually, voice rough and slow from the smoke. “I haven’t understood a single thing you’ve been saying.” Dior looked over at him with a confused laugh, still holding the joint between her fingers. Charles stared at her for a long second before dragging his hand down his face, smiling weakly to himself like he was losing a fight in his own head. “Because you keep leaning close to me." He admitted quietly. “And now all I can think about is making out with you instead paying attention to your story.”