A SONG FOR THE ONE WHO STAYED
requested imagine (REQUESTS OPEN!!)
GENRE: angst
PAIRING: Charles Leclerc x fem! Pianist Reader
WARNINGS: Alcohol consumption, just pure angst tbh.
SUMMARY: After race weekends, Charles Leclerc finds solace in the dim corner of a bar in Monaco, where a quiet pianist plays songs that sound like heartbreak and home all at once. Neither shares their name; neither needs to. When he disappears without goodbye, she only learns who he truly was through the media following his disappearance from the bar — and through the silence he leaves behind. Months later, her first original composition makes its way into the world, and in an interview after a Grand Prix, he reminds her he'll always be her biggest fan.
NOT PROOF READ - WORDS - 2.4k
🏁............🏎💨..
The streets of Monaco after dark gave off a vibe like no other - one you had only dreamt off before packing your bags one day and heading here. You weren’t fully stupid as many called you, Monaco of all places - a place known for its high income residents, and luxury lifestyle. You had connections, a distant family that owned a remote but popular jazz bar with the locals, it had built a name for itself over the years and after a few messages and catch ups you had secured a job as their pianist for the evenings. You’d sit down and play your usual pieces and by 2 you’d be walking down the narrow streets back to your apartment you were yet to call home, because to you home was your music and your piano. You had learned not to seek comfort in anything else, only your hands as they switched between chords in that dimly lit bar full of lost souls and wandering residents, all seeking answers in your melancholy melodies.
To you music was your conversation, you refuge from the world, and your heartbeat.
He had entered quietly one evening like most people in need of a drink or two with some soothing music as their background noise. The man was tall yet walked hunched over slightly as though he was carrying around copious amounts of stress and worries that were weighing him down. He went unnoticed, most likely due to the cap covering his face, leaving it up to your imagination, as it’s clear he himself doesn’t want to be noticed either. He sank himself into a corner booth near the back, letting all his stress be lifted off his shoulders for the meantime as he nursed a drink in his hands, taking a sip here and there.
You sense the man's gaze on your hands as they effortlessly glide from the keys in soothing manner. He was clearly in a trance as his ears followed along with the dark yet calm melody, his reaction alone caught through the corner of your eye was enough to keep you efforts high, hoping to bring the man at least some comfort away from the issues you could see he was quietly hiding.
-
And yes, Charles did in fact have issues and worries piling up in his mind, he was a driver for Ferrari so what on Earth could be stopping him from feeling positive. Well he was having a rough season, in fact probably the worst on his record so far. The car had been having issues since the Japanese Grand Prix at the start of the season, and ever since he was struggling to even keep the car on track, let alone getting it on the podium. Sure, he could blame it on the car fully, but instead he decided to let it chip at his own confidence and abilities. He believed he was the issue, in fact the main problem.
So for escapism he had found himself sitting in the remote bar on a quiet street in his hometown.
-
As he gets up to leave near closing time, everyone notices his presence now, but most of all you notice him, and he notices you in the crowd of people bustling around getting ready to leave soon themselves. Yet this man seems almost untouchable, like a dream glimpsed through fog. Just his presence alone tonight left your music sounding warmer, softer, and at times slower, as if the last note was left lingering instead of ending suddenly. He doesn’t know your name, and you don’t know his, but you know he’ll be back and you’ll be waiting.
-
Weeks pass by and this mysterious man finds himself stumbling on over to the bar as much as he possibly can considering his busy schedule. And as he does he drifts closer towards you, moving up towards your piano slowly as the visits become more frequent. You noticed he never ordered the same drink twice in a night unless it was a whiskey on the rocks, and always made sure to tip quite a large amount as he left into the empty streets. The man would also appear to make small gestures towards you, such as a subtle nod when a melody of yours landed right or a sip of his drink in sync with a minor chord once in a while.
You could feel all of it before you could understand it properly, he felt in tune with the rhythm at all times, a rhythm that was no longer just yours, but a silent duet that formed in the crown of a room full of words that were never spoken. It felt perfect.
-
It was a late night on a Monday, Charles had just gotten back from Hungary, and was certainly not in the mood to head back to his desolate, quiet apartment after another disappointment on track. The streetlights of Monaco glimmering onto the streets as he makes his way up a steep hill up to the street he had now become familiar with. Charles had his jacket swung over his shoulder as his body felt like collapsing, his car was shit and his body certainly felt like shit as well, his muscles aching horrendously but knowing by the end of the night he would be cured through the gentleness of your music.
Tonight it felt different as Charles made his way through the worn out wooden doors that felt authentic to its past, the air almost as heavy as his body felt. He looked around and saw the bar emptier than usual, he tried to pay no attention to it as the sound of piano filled his ears. This time after ordering his first round of drinks he sat the closest he ever had, yet far enough not to startle you. It wasn’t just the bar air that felt different, it was your tone in your music, it was just you today, no extra instruments such as the usual trumpet or double bass. Tonight's performance felt more raw and Charles didn’t want to miss a moment of it.
The moonlight had painted the walls gold by the time you were playing your last piece, a raw emotional one you had composed in your own time while trapped in your apartment a few years back. Its melody spoke louder than anyone ever could, he watched as you got lost in the melody, forgetting about your surroundings even for these few minutes, and Charles himself was there alongside you, feeling your emotions in waves of admiration.
Before either of you knew it you were packing away your sheet music and lazily making your way to the bar to close up. Charles was left star struck, afraid to move and call it an end for tonight, the clock struck 2 outside, he knew if he didn’t make a move now he’d live to regret it.
You brushed past your piano last time taking a deep breath as you held onto it, knowing that you had a long walk back to your “home”. As you turned towards the exit the man who had now become a regular was standing in front of you, clearly nervous yet filled with passion. It takes you by surprise, you never talked to the locals or customers, you were here to perform, to even partially lift their spirits with music, yet if you ever did want to talk to one of them it would've been the mysterious man in front of you, cap still covering most of his face.
“Hello, uh- sorry this is very sudden but that last piece was beautiful. I mean, just everything about it was perfect.”
You stand there for a moment soaking in this sudden compliment, it had been so long since someone had truly listened to your work especially in the bar and said anything about it. You try to avoid his gaze looking down at your feet as you muster up a response.
“Well, thank you it means a lot knowing some people still appreciate live music like that.”
The silence of the empty bar was sharp enough to cut through the rising tension. You both wanted to speak but nobody was ready to be the one to talk. Until Charles had enough and got to what he had been dying to say ever since he first stepped into the bar.
“Y’know. You play like you’ve lost something?”
You can’t help but somewhat be taken aback at first, feeling as if he’d cracked the code to the crux of your passion for music, and Charles himself could see that, a part of him dared to speak once again but instead stayed patient waiting for your answer. You carefully whisper out your reply.
“And what about you.?”
“I drive.. Like I'm trying to find it.”
The pause that followed felt longer than any track time Charles had ever set, the street lights twinkle indifferently and infinitely as they exit out of the warm bar simultaneously. As they get ready to part ways he removes his cap for the first time in her presence, you see him fully, and for the first time under a streetlamp he sees you fully, too.
As the next few weeks go by he makes another appearance here and there, however Charles know it’s only a matter of time before this ends, the next Grand Prix is in a weeks time and he’s set to fly out today. His last visit in a while feels melancholy as how your music had felt, yet recently it had become a more uplifting tempo, and a lot more bright. But it wasn’t the same, just as he would never be the same unknown man he was before that night. You had still seemed to not know who he was, to you he was just another lost soul seeking comfort and that's what he wanted until one day he spotted a fan coming his way as Chalres was leading you home after a night of music.
After a few detours he had walked you to your apartment complex, this was it, in more ways than one and he dreaded it.
“Well this is my stop then, thanks for walking me home it gets kind of lonely here and there.”
“No problem, it’s the least I can do after staring at you all night as you play.”
You chuckle at his reply and lightly punch his shoulder.
“It’s my honour, knowing that you stick around till closing hour for the music really means the world, it's my pleasure.”
A silence similar to the first time they talked falls under them, the stars glimmering above as they both look up to admire them.
“So.. Is it always going to be bar gigs for you, or is there a bigger dream in mind?”
You sigh and blush at his question.
“Well, I don’t know it always felt embarrassing, I always wanted to get my music out there somehow. It’s just hard at the moment as well. The bar takes up a lot of my time, but maybe one day.”
“I think you’ll get there soon, and when you do I hope I’ll be the first to know.”
“Anything for my biggest fan of course.”
The two of you chuckle as a warmth finds its way soaring through Charles, for once it wasn’t someone calling them a fan of him, but him being called a fan of someone else. It felt relieving, knowing that even in Monaco some people weren't aware of his life on track. He’d miss these few weeks of pure blindness to his career, but everything lead back to his racing eventually, he could never escape it no matter how much he wanted to. And in that moment with no thought behind it just pure instincts and emotion, his eyes met yours full of admiration and pent up emotions, his gaze shifted towards you lips as yours did to his, and before either of you knew it your lips had met, not full of hunger but full of pure love, and emotions that couldn’t be explained in any other way.
After a moment neither of you wanted to end your lips parted as you shared a long look, one that left an imprint on one another and would never be forgotten. The man you had not even known the name of had made you feel so many emotions you could never explain properly.
“I’ll always be there to listen to your music, it's beautiful, everything about you is mon amore. I’ll be here no matter where I sit listening to it, in the back or the front.”
“Thank you, truly, thank you.”
And after that the night had come to an end, as you were about to enter the building you turned back to look at him leave, yet as you did he was standing staring back at you. To Charles he knew this was it but you were left with wondering what was to come.
By the morning you don't remember the last thing he said to you that night, only the way the air seemed to hum after he left, a note held too long before fading into silence. For weeks, you kept glancing toward the door between songs, half-expecting his familiar shadow to appear, half-hoping it wouldn’t hurt when it didn’t.
The world revealed who he was in headlines and recent podium photos in the local newspaper, Charles Leclerc, a driver for Ferrari in F1. but to you, he was still the man in the corner who listened like the music meant something. Months later, when your first composition quietly slipped into the world, you thought of him only once in a while, until a post-race interview started playing in the background of the bar. His voice, calm and certain, carried through the static: “There’s this piece I can’t stop listening to… it reminds me of home.” Your piece, your composition inspired by him. And in that moment all that you could do was smile because of what the two of you had in that brief time, instead of letting your tears fall right there and then you placed your hands back on the piano and began to play your song inspired by the man who used to sit and listen.
Charles.
