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It takes Charles a few seconds to spot Carlos by the gate of his building. The sun is directly overhead, but it wasn't as scorchingly hot as he was expecting it to be, but rather pleasant. Perfect for their overdue biking plan today.
Carlos is kneeling next to the bikes, moving and fiddling with the chain of one. As he gets closer, Charles notices that he is wearing his full kit - an all-blue skinsuit fitting his chest and arms snugly and his hair parted on the side.
The other thing he notices is that the rest of the team 55 is missing. Carlos can't possibly go without Gigi, Teto and the rest of his entourage in tow as they are almost always going on rides together, or at least Charles has never seen him go without them. Maybe they are yet to come, he muses to himself.
“Wow, it’ll take me the whole day to count the number of fifty-fives on you.” Charles deadpans as he approaches the pavement where the bikes are
“Isn't that right?” Carlos snorts and counters him cheerfully. He gets up and comes closer, extending his hand out for Charles to grab, and pulls him into a hug. Charles envelops his arms around his body on instinct and mumbles a small “Hello mate” into his shoulder with a back-pat.
As Carlos breaks their embrace and steps back, Charles meets his gaze. His eyes slide slowly over Charles, lingering just a moment longer than necessary. Charles’ spine straightens slightly under the scrutiny, which has Carlos’ lips curving upward, and with a soft chuckle, “I almost thought you wouldn’t show up.” He says, smile teasing at the corners, as if it’s privy to some secret only he knows.
“What? Why?” Charles asks, unsurely, to which Carlos just shrugs lightly and replies, “Thought you’d be busy. Good job on wearing the shorts and not the jeans.” He reaches over to pinch Charles on the stomach lightly, clearly enjoying the pout he gets in response. He bends down to pick up the helmets from the pavement and hands one over to Charles.
“So where is the gang?” Charles asks him, as he buckles the helmet, a familiar click sealing him in.
“Oh, it's just you and me today.” Carlos responds and looks over with a grin.
So today, there are only the two of them. There's no team, no other drivers, no other friends: just Carlos and Charles. It almost makes him hesitant, but he appreciates that no one else is there. It really had been a while since they got to do something together that didn’t involve racing.
“So you’re taking out the time just for silly little me? Oh my my Carlos.” He says playfully, flashing a small smile, and settles onto the bike’s seat. “And thank you for lending me this for today.”
“Monsieur Leclerc, thank you for giving me the opportunity of showing you around,” Carlos retorts in a singsong voice, his heavily accented French dripping with mirth. He can hear the smile in it, because of course it's Carlos, always game, always playing along with his antics. Carlos, who is stupidly kind and caring. Who is infuriatingly like him, who reads him like a book he has pored over a thousand times, annotated with quirks only he understood.
“Give me your watch.” Carlos says, and Charles holds his wrist out for Carlos to do whatever he is doing. His eyes momentarily glance up to Carlos’ face. He can see the freckles spread throughout the bridge of his nose and the flush adorning his face naturally. They’ve done this a thousand times before, being in such close proximity to each other, but he still feels his pulse quicken. He knows he is staring but he can't help it, more so when they are together like this.
“This-”, he explains as he taps on the Strava screen on the watch, “This would allow Andrea to check for your vitals and stats easily. The route we are doing isn’t that straining, but since we are going after gym, so this is essentially cardio.”
Carlos gives him the details about the route they’ll be riding across. It’s roughly a 25 km long course, back and forth. It runs parallel to the seafront, so Charles knows it will be beautiful, especially this time around in the late afternoon.
“I think we are good to go now.” Carlos announces, having put on his equipment and settled on his bike. “Okay so ground rules. No quipping, no shouting, no getting annoyed, let's just enjoy okay?” Carlos winks and flashes him a grin.
Carlos steers the bike leisurely ahead while Charles trails behind him towards the entrance of the building. They pick up the pace and head towards the main road. They ride in silence for a bit with the sounds of the city swelling around them - the constant roar of cars, the chatter of pedestrians, the distant bustling of the streets.
As they leave the city behind, Carlos pedals faster, catching speed as the road becomes more and more vacant now. Charles digs in, legs pumping to match that relentless pace, but the burn creeps in fast and his lungs are clawing for air under the lingering afternoon warmth.
Soon, his breath comes in raggedly, his body aching under the strain and the growing ache in his calves. He rises off the saddle to stand and pedal harder to chase Carlos and keep up with him. But then he realizes Carlos has eased off, glancing back with that knowing look, having slowed deliberately to let him catch up. They cycle a bit more like that, in tandem, before Carlos signals left and veers them onto a narrow slip lane—a shaded path leading towards a resting spot tucked off the main route.
When they stop, Charles dismounts immediately and yanks off his helmet, his ears pounding from the blood rush. He squats down low, squeezing his eyes shut against the throbbing in his head, one hand braced on his knee as he feels his heartbeat slamming wildly in his chest, right up into his mouth.
“How do you even do this so easily?” Charles pants, gripping the handlebars tight as he straightens up a bit, still heaving. “Mate, you’re on another level.” He holds on, chest rising and falling, trying to steady the burn.
Carlos grins, wiping his own brow. “It’s all about how you manage your stamina. You’ll get the hang of it.”
He gets up and chugs down the water from the sipper Carlos had placed so thoughtfully in his bike. His forehead feels sticky, and he knows his hair will get matted sooner or later like this. He brushes them aside, hoping that won't be the case.
“Charles?” He pauses mid-sip and looks at Carlos.“You okay?” Charles nods and gives him a thumbs up.
“Here.” Carlos says,” Take this,” as he takes Charles’ hand and places a blue band of sorts on it. It's a headband, Charles realises. As he turns it around and fiddles with it a bit, he sees the embroidered chilli on it.
“Ah, your revered cycling gear. This is such an honour for me.” Charles teases. He puts the band on top of his head and tugs downward. He adjusts it on his hairline and pushes it just enough to ensure that his hair doesn’t touch his forehead now. He pats down on his head a bit, hoping his hair is not looking as messy as it possibly might.
“Wow” Carlos says softly, and Charles turns his way to see what he is looking at. Carlos’ gaze is on him, eyeing his head. “Mozzafiato” He murmurs, tender and warm. His gaze is softened, locked onto Charles’ face as if he has never seen anything like it ever. Like Charles is the view, as if he is not all flushed and scruffy, with his hair sticking out everywhere. Charles knows he does this on purpose, but can’t help but feel shy.
“Mate, Seriously?” He shoves Carlos lightly, trying to control the red he knows is spreading across his face and the faint smile that is threatening to break. He snorts quietly, looking sideways, familiar exasperation mixed with an odd fondness that only Carlos can bring out from him.
Carlos guffaws and grabs Charles’ arm, his laugh slowing into some snickers. “Wait, stay still.” He fishes out his phone from the back pocket of his tee and points it towards Charles. He snaps a picture, and Charles can only imagine how comical it must be. He lunges towards Carlos, in an attempt to take his phone away, but Carlos deflects it and laughs again.
“You know what, now that I have earned this,” He says, pointing towards the headband on his forehead,”I think it's only fair that I get one of your kits too.”
“You’ll just have to come cycling with me all the time then, no?” Carlos wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.
I really wouldn't mind that, he thinks of saying. He doesn’t. Thinks he should keep that to himself for now.
He doesn't even register when Carlos swung back onto his bike, but the sharp trill of its bell snaps him right out of his thoughts.
“Catch up.” Carlos winks and starts pedalling again, smooth and steady.
“Carlos, wait!” Charles yells, fumbling for his pedals, a laugh bubbling up despite the ache as he pushes off to chase that familiar blue kit once more.
Soon, he sees the 55 on the back of his tee come close enough as he pedals to reach beside his target. He hears Carlos's laugh first, loud and rolling, as he closes the gap, pedalling harder to draw alongside his target. He keeps at it, momentum building, and can't hold back the grin splitting his face as he finally pulls even. “Oh Carlos!” he shouts, half-teasing, half-exhilarated.
Carlos glances over, beaming wide, eyes crinkling with pure joy before he shakes his head in mock disbelief. They eventually match their speed, legs moving in an effortless sync now. Charles can't stop himself from grinning, cheeks aching from the strain of labored breaths after his earlier stint, but the smile refuses to fade.
“Vamos!” Carlos shouts and puts one hand in the air, fist clenched triumphantly and Charles echoes it without thinking, “Vamos!”
“Woo!” he whoops right after, feeling the glorious rip in his thighs, the adrenaline running sharp through his veins.
He sees Carlos slow down and take a slight left, to a hidden trail branching off the main road, climbing toward a secluded clearing above, lined with weathered railing and surrounded by trees endlessly. Ahead of them, the waves lap rhythmically against pebbled shores as sunlight gleams off the water in golden slivers.
“Woah” Charles whispers, as he bends down to catch his breath. “Nice spot, right?” Carlos pants beside him, chest heaving due to the exertion.
Charles nods. They settle into comfortable silence, breaths syncing slowly as the view washes over them. Carlos’ gaze wanders deliberately over Charles’s face, searching or like he’s memorizing every line, waiting for him to say something. There’s a quiet melancholy to it, a shadow behind the warmth that tugs at something deep in Charles’ chest.
“You know,” Carlos says, and Charles nods for him to follow, “I wanted to thank you for coming with me today. I know you don't like biking that much, but you still agreed to do it today. Really, thanks,” and he smiles sheepishly, ducking his head slightly, that boyish charm peeking through.
“Come on, it's nothing.” Charles brushes it off. But the sincerity in Carlos’ words lands heavily, too real and too close. He cares about their relationship, cares enough to plan this whole thing today, just for them.
“Look, I miss you, okay?” Charles blurts, the words spilling out raw before he can stop them. “I know I've said this before and that you're literally 20 metres away, but I really do miss you and I miss this.” He tosses his hand between them. This. Whatever this unspoken thing that is there. Its everywhere, to an extent that it has consumed me, he thinks, but he knows better than to say it out loud.
Carlos leans back against the railing without prompt or encouragement, arms folded loosely across his chest, the casual posture belying the weight in his voice. “I know,” he says softly, eyes lifting to meet Charles’, “I miss it too.”
He hesitates for a beat, and Charles sees it clearly in the subtle parting of his lips and the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. But then he reaches out and places his hand over Charles’ on the railing, enveloping it warm and sure. He squeezes gently, thumb brushing once over his knuckles with a touch that’s steady but tentative, loaded. He looks up again, gaze locking with an unspoken question hanging between them: Is this okay? Charles nods, small but certain, and exhales the breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding.
Carlos caresses the top of his hand with his fingers, brushing his thumb over his knuckles. They lean against the railing in silence for a few moments, with the soft hum of waves and the rustling of trees around the clearing in the background. The seafront looks stunningly beautiful from this point, its surface gleaming beneath the weak sunlight, reflecting the multiple shades of orange the sky has broken down into. Charles takes his time to soak in the atmosphere, letting his thoughts wander lazily and unfiltered.
Last weekend was terrible, he's had races like that before, the kind that claw into your confidence and make you think what even is the point of all this. It has been difficult for Carlos too, this complete 180 for him this season, he knows that from their shared flights. But none of that matters right now because it's so peaceful here, with him, he thinks, breathing deep. On borrowed time, the treacherous part of his brain adds bitterly.
Everything was easier when Carlos was with him, sharing the team. It was like sharing a home—a messy, sometimes fractious, fucked-up home, but still a home. He feels a faint homesickness tug for the rhythm they used to share back then, because now it feels like returning to a house that's changed since you left, rooms rearranged. There is the ache of wanting to close that 20-meter garage gap that has opened between them and make it vanish entirely. Charles feels it coil tighter, unspoken but heavy, every second being a reminder to him of what could be if they weren't bound by contracts and circuits.
We are past this now, ain’t we? He ponders, turning the thought over like a puzzle. They are friends—friends who have talked things out now, who have realised that, of course, things were going to be different with them not sharing the same team anymore, but at the same time, they can still spend time with each other, not out of some contractual obligation, but just because they wish to do so.
He glances over, but Carlos turns at the same moment, and their eyes meet.
“I'm glad we came today.” Carlos breaks the silence, his voice low and calm. The last remnants of golden hour colouring him in warm amber glow, eyes deep pools of honey that pull Charles in like gravity. Charles's own lips curve into a small, genuine smile.
“I'm glad we came today because now I know for a fact that I am better than you at cycling, too.”
“So annoying” he huffs and smacks Carlos on his chest, but Carlos just laughs, knowing the frustration is all fake. His laugh, it's hearty and full of life. It's so on brand for him, Charles realises and he thinks it's how he likes Carlos the best - relaxed, laughing, happy. He is incandescent - shining so brightly, and all Charles wants to do is bask in his light, in him.
“We should head back now.” Carlos says, clasping him on the shoulder.
“Next time…” Charles says tentatively. Carlos pauses mid-buckle of his helmet, looking up expectantly.
“Next time, we should go a little further, to Nice or something.” He hesitates, then adds quickly, “I mean, if you want to go again.”
Carlos has the gall to cock an eyebrow and purse his lips before deadpanning, “Will you wear one of my cycling suits?”
“Oh god, please shut up.” Charles replies.
“But yeah, we should come again.” Carlos's fond smile crinkles the corners of his eyes, a smile Charles can't help but mirror. “I’d really love that, Charlou,” he adds, laughing as he finishes buckling his helmet.
“And you know, I could learn a thing or two more about biking before we come again. Maybe bike around a bit on my own?” Charles ponders loudly, raising his eyebrows with feigned confidence.
“Oh? You’re admitting that I am better than you at something and you want to come out with me again? Are you proposing to me, Charles?” Carlos chuckles, unfunny as ever, and Charles feels the heat crawling up his face again. He rolls his eyes, though his mouth betrays him with a faint twitch upwards.
By the time they ride back to Carlos’ apartment, it is almost night. The cool breeze swept across the water as the sky began to darken. Carlos had offered him to take the bike all the way to his own apartment, but Charles had insisted against it. Carlos walks him the rest of the way after they drop the bikes off, their chatter casual and light.
They reach the gate of Charles’ building. The evening had been good. Charles feels a bit bitter, now that it's ending. He pauses, hand lingering on the bike's grip, words catching awkwardly in his throat. "So..."
But Carlos doesn't let him finish. He steps in quickly and pulls him into a hug, firm and enveloping. He splays his palm against Carlos’s shoulder in response, melting into it. He feels Carlos turn fully, one arm encircling his waist while the other reaches his nape, the pads of his fingers pressing almost too tenderly. He relaxes, wrapping his own arms around Carlos. He savours it completely before squeezing gently and pulling back, he notices Carlos’s smile still lingering, soft at the edges. It makes something in his chest ache and want something he can't exactly pinpoint. But he cannot risk this in any way, he realises.
“Thank you for today. I’ll see you, Carlos.” He manages a timid smile and steps back. Carlos lingers a hand on the gate a beat too long before giving a small wave and Charles turns to enter his building.
This is the only safe option available to him, running away. But the thought does nothing to stop the rapid beat of his heart, or the rush he feels on hearing the genuine, gentle “Ciao” from the other side.
He enters the elevator, resting his head very gently against its wall, and sighs. He can see his reflection in the door’s surface. The chilli on his forehead stares at him mockingly. He tries to swallow the lump in his throat, but it settles down, heavy and uncomfortable.
(But when he leaves, he doesn’t see Carlos’ dejected stare on his retreating figure, nor the smile slide from his face.)