"Thirst trap? Pfft. Seriously?"

Tsukishima scoffed, lips twitching in disdain as he rolled his eyes at the screen. His thumb hovered over the photo—your photo. It was stupid. Just a normal post. Nothing overt. Maybe the lighting was good, maybe your expression was annoyingly confident. Either way, it shouldn’t have gotten to him.

And yet, there he was. Zooming in.

Twice.

He blinked. Slowly. Then clicked out like the image had personally insulted him.

"What the hell," he muttered, annoyed more at himself than the post.

For over three years, you’d been just that guy. His co-op partner in crime. His trolling sidekick. The one who’d teabag NPCs mid-fight and scream “LAG!” whenever you lost. You were chaotic, snarky, occasionally sociopathic online—and he liked that about you. You were, by all definitions, his kind of asshole.

But attractive? No. Never. You weren’t supposed to be attractive. You were supposed to be a faceless gremlin behind a screen with zero hygiene and a suspiciously loud keyboard.

So the photo? Yeah, it messed him up a little.

Even worse, your comments section had turned into a public thirst fest. Every line oozed with cringe: “Marry me.” “God took his time with this one 😫” “Drop the skincare routine AND the number.”

Tsukishima stared at the screen like it owed him money. His jaw twitched.

“Tch. Desperate.”

Without hesitation, he closed the app, opened another, and switched to that account—the burner. The one no one knew about. The one he used when he wanted to lurk, bash, or say something mildly cruel without consequences. He didn’t even blink as he went down the comment thread like a hitman on a contract.

“Bold of you to assume they’d even notice you lol.” “Cringe. Try touching grass.” “Desperate ass.” “You all look down bad and unemployed.”

He hit send every time, stone-faced and efficient. A hater with purpose.

And then he just stared at the post again. Quiet.

You. The person he’d been banned with more times than he could count. The same person who once faked a full southern accent in voice chat just to troll a Texan guild leader. The same person who convinced a child their sword was cursed and bought it for 1 gold.

That person was hot?

He hated this. Hated the slow realization that maybe, just maybe, he’d been a little more attached to their stupid late-night calls than he admitted. That maybe your laugh had been living rent-free in his head way before this post.

Tsukishima leaned back in his chair, tugging his hoodie over his head like it might smother the thought.

“...What a weird guy,” he muttered under his breath, closing the app—but not before bookmarking the post.

For research.

Obviously.