Chapter Text
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In his defense, at the time it simply seemed like the only explanation was that Nico Rosberg, heir to the wonderland throne, son of the Queen of hearts—hated his guts.
It all started when Professor Tailor had introduced the project, a fully designed and produced runway collection with the topic of 'What makes you, you.' As soon as the teacher began speaking, Charles' brain began filling with ideas.
Until the eventual bomb dropped.
"This will be a partner project," the tailor said with a smile much too sweet for Charles' liking. "You must know how to work together, after all—teamwork minimizes the work and multiplies the success."
Charles almost visibly flinched at the words. His eyes scanned the room around him, everyone seemed thrilled by the idea of less work. Charles felt a soft churning feeling in the pits of his stomach, he really didn't want to have to hunt down somebody to be his partner.
It wasn't like he was socially inept—he wasn't! In fact it was somewhat the opposite. But, being best friends with George Russell, Alex Albon and Pierre Gasly somehow made him appear much more extroverted than he really was.
Plus, it wasn't like he knew lots of people in this class. Sure there were the occasional people he could talk to—but nobody he truly clicked with.
So maybe that's why instead of making him groan and complain, the professor's next words eased the tension rushing through him.
"And I will be picking your partners," professor Tailor smirked. "In fact, I already have them picked." He smiled—summoning up an engraved fabric to the front of the classroom.
As he listed off the duos, Charles couldn't help but notice how the gold embroidery stood out beautifully against the pale blue fabric. In fact, it reminded him a lot of his mother's dress—the one she had worn the night she lost her glass slipper and met his father.
While he thought back to the story he had heard a countless amount of times before but still seemed to fall more in love with it more and more every time, a voice snapped him out of his daydream.
"Charles Leclerc and Nico Rosberg." Professor Tailor smiled at him gently, almost like he could sense the panic suddenly filling his bones.
It wasn't like he hadn't heard of Nico or didn't know who he was, who didn't know Nico Rosberg? Everyone in school had heard of his fights with Lewis last year—how the couple had broken up and shattered both of their hearts into a million tiny pieces.
Charles almost shuddered at the thought of it, he liked stories of finding love, not losing it.
Then, everyone heard about how they got back together. But even then, Nico was known for a lot more than Lewis. Nico Rosberg, son of the queen of hearts. He was known for his bold statements, his lack of shame and embarrassment, and his ability to tarnish anybody's reputation.
It was terrifying knowing what he was capable of, but that wasn't what made Nico so scary to Charles. No, what scared Charles was how utterly perfect Nico was.
Charles had seen Nico's designs and the outfits he had created, he had seen Nico's grades and how he was one of the top students in the whole school. He was social and not to mention, handsome. He was incredible.
So the idea of him hating Charles? Terrifying.
Nico appeared in front of his desk, dragging Charles out of his inner thoughts. He stared at the boy with a curious expression but didn't say anything. He set his bag beside the empty chair next to Charles. That's when Charles looked around and realized, everyone had already moved around to sit with their partners.
Charles flushed, "Sorry." He apologized sheepishly.
Nico shrugged, pulling out a white sketchbook out of his bag. He still didn't say anything. Charles felt a rush of shame run through his blood as he quickly copied Nico's actions.
"I was thinking, what about a runway inspired by our stories? Who we are, who we're set to be, who we were?" Nico hummed, looking at Charles with an unreadable expression. Normally, Charles is amazing at being able to tell how his friend were feeling—but he couldn't read Nico at all.
"That's a good idea." Charles admitted. He swallowed loudly, "But isn't the project meant to be—well on what makes us—the current us—us?" Charles stammered, mentally slapping himself in the face.
Nico raised an eyebrow, abruptly stopping his sketching. He looked at Charles pointedly. "You're correct."
He nodded at Charles, almost like he could tell Charles had an idea he was begging to spill out.
"What if we each make six outfits inspired by different people?" Charles began, "The people in our lives who have changed us for the better—or just people who have been a big part of our lives."
Nico blinked, Charles hoped that he didn't sound stupid. "That's brilliant." Nico hummed, "We should make lists of six people to begin with."
Charles looked back at Nico, he was diligently working, not even giving Charles a single time of day.
Charles swallowed the lump forming in his throat and got to work.
'This'll be a long project.' He thought to himself.
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