Chapter Text
Three days had passed since the infamous “Mat Incident,” and the atmosphere in the building was incredibly awkward. Hobin barely made eye contact with Taehoon, and Taehoon was being uncharacteristically quiet, spending most of his time staring out the balcony window while spinning a wooden chopstick between his fingers.
Gaeul was sitting at the dining table, typing out another analytical breakdown of their latest short video under her alternative account. She was so deep in the zone, responding to a user named Hobinsusedhoodie about the psychological implications of Taehoon sharing his jacket, that she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her.
“Hey.”
Gaeul jumped a foot into the air, her heart leaping into her throat. She frantically tried to minimize the window on her laptop, but a massive, pale hand slammed onto the top of her screen, stopping it halfway.
Taehoon was leaning over her shoulder, a juice box in his other hand. His sharp eyes were locked onto the laptop screen.
Gaeul froze. Cold sweat poured down her back. This is it, she thought, her life flashing before her eyes. I’m going to die. He’s going to use a 540-degree kick to turn my skull into a soccer ball.
Taehoon blinked, reading the text on the screen out loud in a flat, monotone voice.
“’Taehoon’s body language clearly shows an alpha-male territorial instinct whenever Snapper gets too close to Hobin, suggesting an underlying layer of romantic protectiveness.’ ...What the fuck is this?”
Gaeul gulped, her voice squeaking. “I-It’s... it’s just... data analysis, Taehoon! Market research!”
Taehoon’s eyes scanned upward, landing on the profile name in the top corner of the screen.
“xxSnipperWolfxx?” Taehoon read, his brow furrowing. He paused for a full minute, his brain processing the information. Then, a dark, terrifyingly sharp smirk slowly crept onto his face. He leaned down, his eyes locking onto Gaeul’s terrified expression. “So... you’re that famous shipper everyone in the comments keeps talking about. The one who keeps telling the internet that I want to eat Hobin alive.”
“I can explain!” Gaeul cried, throwing her hands up in defense. “The algorithm was dead! The views were dropping! Shippers bring high engagement rates and higher watch-time retention! I did it for the company! For the money!”
Taehoon didn’t yell. He didn’t kick her. Instead, he just pulled up a chair and sat down right next to her, crossing his legs. He tapped the screen with his long finger.
“Who said I’m mad?” Taehoon muttered, his voice dropping low.
Gaeul blinked, her panic faltering. “Huh?”
Taehoon looked toward the hallway to make sure Hobin wasn’t around, then turned back to Gaeul, a strange, slightly frustrated expression crossing his face. “This ‘SnipperWolf’ guy... you have a lot of influence over the fans, right? They listen to whatever garbage you type.”
“Uh... yeah,” Gaeul stammered. “The community treats my comments like objective truth.”
Taehoon stayed silent for a second, his ears turning a very distinct shade of pink. He aggressively sucked on his juice box until it made a loud, empty crushing noise, then threw it into the trash can with perfect accuracy.
“The next time we do a live stream,” Taehoon said, looking away from her, his jaw tight. “Tell the chat to demand that Hobin cooks for me on camera. Tell them it’s a ’24-Hours Partner Challenge’ or whatever the hell you call it.”
Gaeul’s jaw dropped. She stared at the terrifying prodigy sitting next to her. Wait... he doesn’t hate the shipping. He’s... he’s using me to get closer to Hobin?!
“Taehoon...” Gaeul breathed, her inner fangirl instantly waking up and screaming at maximum volume. “Are you... are you telling me that my analysis was actually right?”
Taehoon stood up, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets. He walked toward the door, but stopped just before leaving, looking back at her with a sharp, warning glare that carried absolutely no real malice.
“If you tell Hobin about this, I will actually kill you,” Taehoon threatened, his ears completely red now. “Just write the damn comment, Wolf.”
He slammed the door shut behind him.
Gaeul sat in the silence of the room for a full three minutes. Then, a slow, brilliant, entirely unhinged smile spread across her face. Her eyes glowing with the fire of a thousand burning suns. She didn’t just have a ship anymore. She had the co-captain of the ship working directly with her.
She chuckles devilishly, she knows exactly how she’ll execute the plan.