Charles Leclerc, as usual, was in bed, lights off, wrapped like a burrito in his Ferrari blanket. One hand on his phone, the other tucked under his cheek. A perfect picture of innocence—if you ignored the fact that he was deep-diving into Max Verstappen’s Twitter likes like a man possessed.

Of course, he thought he was using his fake account. The fake account. The one no one knew about. The one where his name was something ridiculous like “F1FanGirl420” and his bio just said, “I love chaos and Max Verstappen <3”. He used it only for two things: stalking Max, and obsessing over #Lestappen fan content.

Tonight was no different. He’d saved three new Max pictures to the shrine folder on his phone (don't ask), liked at least twenty Lestappen posts

“Just five minutes,” he whispered to himself, a bald-faced lie he told nightly.

Then continued his normal stuff.

Well, it would’ve been, if he had actually switched accounts.