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~I think this time I'm dying~
For some reason, every bone in his body was hurting. If he tried to open his eyes, everything was dark. Something was poking in his ear and he is shocked out of his reverie by his boyfriend's gentle touch.
"Shhhh, c'est tout bien Pierrot," Charles whispered, "keep still, I'm just checking your fever."
Pierre's stomach hurt. It hurt like nothing he had ever felt before, which was saying something considering the number of crashes he has had throughout his life. He wouldn't be melodramatic to say that it was the worst pain he'd felt in his life. Here's the thing: Pierre never gets sick. Sure, he gets migraines often enough and after a race it feels like all his joints are out to get him, but Pierre Gasly does not get sick. He's miraculously never even had the flu, and hasn't had a winter cold since he was a teenager. And yet, here he is in the middle of the summer break, doubled over and feeling like someone is twisting a thousand screws into his stomach. For a moment, he could not breath, could not see, and then-
"Merde. 38.5 degrees," he heard Charles whisper, before running off to what Pierre thinks is the bathroom, but his spatial awareness has dropped significantly. Pierre whines softly, missing the warmth of his boyfriend beside him. Luckily, Charles is quick, returning with a glass of water and a pair of semi-clear blue pills.
Charles kisses Pierre's forehead, handing over the cup and pills and helping him sit up. Usually, Pierre doesn't have a problem swallowing pills, but right now it has never been more difficult and he briefly wondered if he was actually dying. It only takes an eternity, but once he'd finally swallowed the pills and finished the rest of the water, Charles took the cup back and placed it on the nightstand. Carefully, he climbed into the bed and settled himself behind Pierre. Sighing contentedly, Pierre starts to drift off to sleep, the pain finally starting to subside, before he realizes something.
"Aren't you supposed to be leaving to Maranello today?"
Sitting like this, Pierre can't see Charles face, but the soft chuckle he hears lets him know that his boyfriend is shaking his head affectionately.
"You are sick, calamar. I'm not going to leave you here alone. I told the team I would not be there for a few days, and Carlos will tell me anything that is important. You are more important to me than any new strategy the team has come up with," Charles speaks with such certainty that Pierre is struck - not for the first time, certainly not for the last - by how much he loves his boyfriend.
"Dormez, mon amour. You will feel better once you've rested," Charles tells him, pressing a kiss to the top of Pierre's head.
"Promise you'll be here when I wake up?" Maybe Pierre is being childish, but there is some irrational fear in the back of his mind that Charles will disappear. Charles laughs, a bright, beautiful sound, but for a second Pierre is scared that he's been stupid. Then, all of his fears are washed away.
"Pinky promise."
Smiling, Pierre drifts off to sleep.
~Maybe I could wake up, and feel alright~