You weren’t proud of it.
Okay, maybe a little proud.
Your boyfriend—Bang Chan—was everything. Gentle, composed, and stupidly attractive. And the problem? Other people knew it too.
So when he started getting more attention lately—strangers complimenting his voice, classmates getting too friendly—you got ideas. Bad ones.
You opened a burner account. Name: “@lovelyluna_” Bio: “Just a girl who loves music... and maybe hot gym rats ;)”
You slid into his DMs like it was a covert mission. “Hey, you look familiar. Do you work out at Gold’s?”
Five seconds. Ten.
You saw the read notification.
Then—
Blocked.
You blinked. Stared. Refreshed. Still blocked.
HE BLOCKED YOU.
Not even a “nah sorry I have a girlfriend.” Just—boom, gone.
Your jaw dropped. “This man,” you whispered. “This loyal, loyal man…”
Moments later, your phone pinged with a message from his real account.
Chan: “Just blocked some random girl trying to flirt. You’d better not accuse me of anything when I get home.”
You stared at the screen, face burning, heart pounding.
You were the random girl.
Later that night, he comes home—calm, smug even.
You’re on the couch pretending to scroll through your phone like you didn’t just commit digital betrayal. He plops down beside you, all warmth and comfort, throwing an arm over your shoulder.
“So,” he hums, brushing his fingers through your hair, “anything... interesting happen today?”
You nearly choke. “N-Nope. Normal stuff. Totally normal.”
“Mmm,” he nods. “Not like a random girl tried to hit on me or anything.”
You freeze. He smirks, watching your expression like a hawk.
“Her bio said she likes hot gym rats. Who even writes that?” he teases.
You force a laugh. “Yeah, weird.”
Then he pulls out his phone and opens your burner profile. “You know what’s even weirder?” he whispers, leaning in— “This girl… had your birthday on her profile.”
Your soul momentarily leaves your body.
He doesn’t stop there.
“She also followed only two accounts: me… and our dog’s Instagram.”
You hide behind your hands. “Okay—OKAY—I can explain—”
But he’s laughing, full and unfiltered, pulling you into his chest.
“I wasn’t mad,” he says, voice soft now. “Honestly… I thought it was kinda cute.”
You peek up at him. “So you knew?”
“From the first message. Who else calls me a ‘thirst trap wrapped in protein’?”
Blush crept up on your cheeks, embarrassed.
It’s been a week. He hasn’t brought it up again. No teasing. No shade.
You think it’s over.
It is not over.
He decided to get revenge by making a account too.
You get a message request on Instagram. @BahngChurros99. Bio: “looking for my gym rat gf. must love dogs and dad jokes.”
You stare at the profile. The thirst traps? Too aesthetic. The captions? Suspiciously you-coded. Then a DM slides in: “Hey cutie, you got a map? Cuz I just got lost in your pics.”
You FLIP.
You don’t respond. You were confused. But the DMs keep coming. “If you were a veggie, you’d be a cute-cumber.” “Just say the word, and I’ll block my real girlfriend. She’s obsessed with me anyway.”