Archive of Our Own

Just because your new neighbour is hot, it doesn't mean that you have the right to hack into his computer to uncover every single detail about his life.

That is what Snafu's therapist would tell him if she could see him now. Not that he would ever tell her. He ain't that stupid. What he is doing goes against every privacy law the government carelessly put in place and it violates several ethical boundaries, neither of which ever stood a chance against his hacking skills.

Krista (his therapist) would be disappointed to see him waste his talents on petty crime, rather than his programming job or developing some world-changing software.

But the new neighbour, with his auburn mop of hair and that damn smoking pipe tightly held between his teeth while he single-handedly moved every box out of the trunk of his car up to the third floor of the flat opposite to Snafu's, is a very fine looking man indeed.

He moved in 3 days ago. 73 hours, to be exact.

It took Snafu less than 10 minutes to find out his name. Eugene B Sledge.

They have the same landlord who owns both their buildings. Fucking leech. Snafu had hacked him months ago, accessing his data on Eugene had been like stealing candy from a baby.

He gathered from their e-mail exchange that Eugene is moving in by himself, no pets nor partners, he's a student at NYU and 21 years old. He had taken the place without viewing it, a huge mistake when it comes to renting in New York. Mouldy ceilings, loose floor planks and faulty appliances are bound to come and haunt Eugene's future, but something had driven him out of Alabama in a hurry. Causing Eugene to agree blindly to the landlord's contracts and clauses without proper inspection of the details. Some of the e-mails had been answered within minutes of being received.

That is suspicious. Snafu wonders what had been the reason behind Eugene's impromptu move across the country.

While Snafu ain't no Sherlock Holmes, he's better. He has the advantage of living in the modern age with the power to hack through any poorly coded wall against him.

It don't matter if he sounds conceited. His detective work is immaculate, he's learned how to read people through their devices. This gives him the advantage of studying how people communicate across different platforms with different people. It's like a puzzle that only falls together if he gathers all the pieces; Facebook, Discord, Outlook, text messages, call history, search history. iCloud, bank records, everything. There is no better strategy to figuring a person, their flaws, secrets and motives out. 

That's why he hacks Eugene B Sledge.

Really, the man left Snafu no choice, screwing together his Ikea bed, shirtless, in full view of the window.

People draw the line of evasiveness at staring at your hot new neighbour for hours on end through the window. Breaking into his computer and scrolling through the contents of every file he owns, every website he's ever visited or platform he's logged into, reaches a whole new level most people don't touch because they can't.

That's exactly why Snafu doesn't often keep the company of people. Turns out they're all shit if you keep digging for something.

"Am I a bad person, Flipper?" Snafu asks, "or just my own worst enemy?"

In response, his greying dog headbutts his stomach where she's curled up on his lap. She doesn't know the meaning of evasiveness, therefore she can't think Snafu is a bad person.

"I don't think so either."

Eugene had given his landlord a copy of his drivers license as proof of identification. Snafu uses his self-developed password recovery software to quickly decode Eugene's password, which as it turns out, Eugene conveniently uses for everything.

It's stupid, but convenient for Snafu.

His password is Deacon!1999. The name of his childhood pet (displayed all over his public Facebook posts) and the year he was born. Classic.

"You'd almost think he wants to get hacked," Snafu murmurs from the corner of his mouth into the void of his pitch black apartment.

Maybe a normal person would have gotten up from behind their computer screen and offered to help move some boxes up the stairs, or started a round of small talk welcoming their new neighbour to the city. But Snafu has learned over the years not to trust anyone until he's done some elaborate digital digging on. The darkest truths hide behind the most innocent faces.

Snafu rolls his chair closer to his desk to peer more closely at his screen that now fully displays Eugene's desktop. Flipper senses that he's excited and licks his arm. Snafu's hands hover over the keyboard with a thrilling tremble.

"Time to see who you really are, Eugene Sledge."

His very limited number of friends would tell him he's a creep, but Snafu doesn't care. He hears cars come and go outside of his apartment all day long, but it isn't usual for them to park right outside on his block where there's no parking allowed, blasting Fleetwood Mac's Rumors through the speakers.

Snafu doesn't draw the curtains all the way open. He's not stupid. He's not looking for trouble, but curiosity always gets the better of him.

He scans the streets, seeing nothing abnormal first. Passing cars, kids playing down the streets, teens walking in hordes and people in sharp suits bustling up and down the sidewalk barking in their earpieces. It's been a hot summer, so everyone's outside and taking it an involuntary pace slower. Snafu's window is cracked open to allow in a breeze and for the smoke from his cigarette to ventilate out the room.

Through the open crack he hears the blast of the music and the thrill of the bass as Dreams sung by Stevie Nicks in her mellow scratchy voice draws his eyes to the little Fiat 500 half parked on the curb with the windows rolled all the way down.

The owner of the car is what actually draws Snafu's attention. He nearly chokes on a lungful of smoke as he sees the man leaning against the back of his trunk, toned arms crossed boyishly over his chest. He's smoking a pipe, like he's some pretentious 1900's detective or something. It doesn't fit the rest of the aesthetic, that is khaki shorts and a Hawaiian blouse buttoned halfway down to the chest.

He could be a douchebag, for all Snafu knows.

But he got his nose practically pressed against the glass of his window to watches the strangely proper man get approached by his landlord.

"Mr Foreman, it is nice to meet you in person." Snafu's new neighbour takes the pipe from the corner of his mouth and extends his arm to shake hands with the landlord, who is a much shorter man and balding. He offers a polite smile in return although clearly unamused by the music that is coming from the inside of the car.

"You must be Eugene."

"Correct, sir," Snafu senses a southern drawl, it isn't quite 'home' but it reminds him enough to look at Eugene more closely, appreciating his charm the way Mr Foreman never could. "You sure maintain a nice place."

"Treat it right, son and it will stay that way." Foreman fumbles in his pockets for the keys. Eugene waits patiently until they have been handed over. Not once does his smile waver, or does he accidentally blow a whiff of smoke in the landlord's general direction. "You have my phone and e-mail if there's a problem. Rent is due on the 29th of each month. You can read it all back in your contract."

Eugene holds the set of keys up to inspect in the light of the sun. He's relieved to have them in hands, his shoulders relax as he tests their weight and hears them jiggle. "Will do, sir. Thank you for bringing these in person."

"I was just glad someone would take it on such short notice. Every second that place's empty is a waste."

"It sure looked like a fine place to live online, sir," Eugene praises with a big smile, to which the landlord shrugs.

"A waste of money I meant. And don't come crying to me about no leaky pipes, water pressure or light bulbs. The repairs reflect the rent you pay, get me?"

"That shouldn't be a problem. I can be quite resourceful."

"That'll come in handy, take it easy son."

Snafu scans the inside of Eugene's small beat-up car a little closer just as Mr Foreman is about to take his leave. He's surprised to find both the passengers seat as the back of the car completely filled with boxes and bags. Eugene is chipper, new to the big city, with his small car and boyish enthusiasm.

And most importantly, all by himself.

He starts with Eugene's Facebook.

He doesn't find much groundbreaking information but its a good place to map a person's public persona out, who their friends are and what nicknames that they use for each other. He figures out his basic interests, which are bird watching and hunting. Which schools Eugene attended to, his achievements, summer jobs, sports games, parties. He's recently obtained his biology degree, there are professional pictures of Eugene in his graduation gown with his parents on one side and his friends on the other.

Some things stand out to Snafu.

Eugene's family has money. A few clicks to his parents shared profile and Google Map's satellite view of their mansion, confirms that they're positively loaded. Nonetheless, there is no evidence of Eugene ever having gone outside of his hometown, not for school, trips or holidays.

Eugene has a couple of good friends. A guy named Sidney, a childhood friend who'd attended the same high school and University. Most of Eugene's pictures either feature him or are taken by him.

Then there is a girl. She's the same age as Eugene, tall, pretty and Southern. Dorothy. In all their last tagged pictures together she wears a large rock around her ring finger.

It explains little of why Eugene is here in New York by himself. 

He finished his degree at the University of Mobile. He'd even sped through his degree program, finishing in three years. Now, according to his e-mails he's enrolled in NYU, studying art. Studio Art to be exact.

It makes no sense. 

"Do you see this, Flipper?" Snafu asks without tearing his eyes away from the computer screen. Flipper is somewhere behind him rolling around on the carpet, freely enjoying the fluffy rug beneath her back. She couldn't give a shit about Snafu's research. "It don't make no sense."

With the same password, Snafu logs into Eugene's iCloud, which gives him access to every aspect of Eugene's phone through desktop.

"I've got you now," he mumbles with a gleeful smile.

His call history is glaring red with missed calls. Mom, mom, mom, Sidney, Dorothy, Dorothy, mom, mom and mom.

His message history reflects the same narrative. There are hundreds of unopened messages, ranging from unknown unsaved numbers, to over two hundred messages from Dorothy and the mother. Only Sidney's texts appear to have been answered, curtly and sparsely, but enough to appease his friend of Eugene's wellbeing.

Reading people's texts is wrong, but Snafu needs to get to the bottom of why Eugene left his home, fiance and life behind.

Mom: I understand if you are still upset honey.
But it is not too late to come back home

That was two weeks ago. Just before Eugene had moved in and he stopped posting on his Facebook, Instagram and other social media.

Snafu scrolls down the wall of onesided conversation bubbles until he's reached the start of this week. It appears as though Mrs Sledge has increasingly become more desperate in her search for her radio silent son.

Mom: At least accept the money, Eugene. You cannot survive out there without it.

Mom: It would make me feel better knowing you have a roof over your head and food to eat. I am not asking for anything in return. I won't ask you to come back or marry that girl.

Mom: I just want to know you're okay.

There have been no further messages beyond that. Eugene's bank statements show a suspicious pattern of large sums of money that is being transferred to him, but he promptly declines. Another peculiar thing.

Snafu figures that Eugene ran from an engagement with Dorothy. The question is why?

Why should he not accept the money his parents keep sending when they're loaded and he is living in a shoebox? His current only income is that of his art commissions he sells on Tumblr under the nickname Sledgehammer. It isn't nearly enough to pay for his apartment, let alone utilities, art supplies and college. His e-mails for job applications aren't being answered. It won't be long before Eugene's little adventure will come dwindling down.

But that's the bigger narrative. The large motive in the storyline that had brought Eugene to Snafu. Something that is interesting but equally as important as his smaller more mundane existence on the internet.

Snafu hasn't been on Tumblr since 2013, but it's nice to make a comeback and see how everything apparently remained unchanged, unlike the rest of the world that's been moving too fast.

Sledgehammer creates digital art and sketches of birds, botany and occasionally human beings. Snafu has never been great at creating organic shapes such as those heavily featured in Eugene's pieces, but he appreciates the detailed workmanship of patterned feathers and sharp beaks in Eugene's #MyArt tag. Some of which date back to years ago.

He leaves the site none the wiser almost two hours later, still glad that he had found it.

There's two other solid methods to figuring out a person, which is:

1. what porn they watch and
2. what music they listen to.

Music-wise, Eugene is somewhat of a pretentious dick. His Spotify Premium (under his parent's plan) is brimming with classical music and classic rock. Nothing heavy like Snafu blasts through his earbuds, but the type of quiet music that his grandma would appreciate and ask for him to turn the volume of the radio up for.

Eugene watches porn. Nothing obscene, it's men and women without special preference for ethnicity or body type. This is uncommon. Their landlord Mr Foreman, has a thing for large breasts only achievable through hentai and backbreaking plastic surgery. Snafu's next-door neighbour prefers anything anal involving at least one man. And his boss likes black women, small asses. Weird, but common.

Eugene's lack of preference is hard to place. Snafu first speculated that maybe Eugene hadn't been sexually attracted to his fiance Dorothy, some people are gay and find out late, but upon scrolling through his OnlyFans subscriptions, there appears to be no problem in that department. If anything he's practically preference-less.

"What is your story then...?"

Snafu enjoys digging around, perhaps more than he should. It gives him a rush of energy fed by the power that has been installed through the tips of his fingers.

He finds Eugene's photo gallery through his iCloud. Some of the pictures date back to his iPod touch from 2012. He already knew both Sidney and Dorothy at that time. With each year Snafu scrolls by, the pictures become less blurry, professional and Dorothy and Eugene drift closer together and his hobbies (drawing, hunting) become more heavily featured.

There are no nude pictures, as sad as it is. Snafu really tried looking through all 20.000+ items in his camera-roll but couldn't find any. At least Eugene takes an obscene amount of high resolution pictures and is very talented in digital art too.

In the weeks prior to Eugene's disappearance. Or appearance from Snafu's perspective, it becomes clear that Eugene had been planning a wedding.

There are several pictures of him and Sidney in a finely fitted suit. He's snapped photos of the beautiful Dorothy tasting cake samples and licking frosting from her fingertips before it could get on her ring. There are some photos of Eugene with the ring on, jokingly holding it out to the camera, grinning like a happy loon.

He doesn't appear unhappy in any of them. There is no decrease in selfies with Dorothy or forced-on smiles. Eugene is as cheered as the sunny spring they'd had. He preens over his freshly obtained degree, his beautiful fiance and loyal best friend.

Disappearing doesn't make sense.

This is what Snafu knows now: Eugene didn't run from his life because he's gay. He is attracted to women as well as men. Perhaps his fiance hadn't approved of his sexuality, maybe threatening to out him if he didn't stop watching gay porn or drawing cuddling men for commissions on his Tumblr.

Eugene loved Dorothy, he intended to make her his wife. Yet he is here, she is there. He loves his friends, enjoys his art, wants to make his hobby a professional skill. He likes pretentious old people music, he's charming and Southern, yet he ignores his mother's messages, begging him to take her money. His family is loaded, still he doesn't want part of the fortune. It is a lot of information to work with, although it isn't all of it yet. His research has gotten him far, but not all the way over the finish line.

This is what Snafu also knows after his research:

He really likes Sledge.

"I need friends," Snafu says to nobody in particular.

Flipper growls up at him, nothing resembling aggression, just impatience. It's a quarter past her normal walking time and he already has her leash slung around his arm. He was about to call her to clasp it around her collar for their walk, but he is rudely interrupted by the sight of his new neighbour.

"Jesus."

Eugene's window is open, the curtains are too, allowing a stream of hot light into Eugene's apartment. Born in Alabama, Snafu would think he would know to draw the curtains to keep the flat cool.

Snafu uses his own to shield his peeping-Tom charade. "This can't be real."

Yet it is. Eugene sits cross-legged on the floor of his apartment, it's just a trash bag he's sitting on while he assembles his furniture.

Eugene only just moved in, he has no fan or anything to cool himself down during what is essentially the hottest period of the year, everyone swelters indoors while he stubbornly puts his Ikea bed together, alone. 

He doesn't have much. No moving truck, no family or friends to help him. Through the open window, all Snafu can see are scattered boxes and packages. The largest thing he's received was a dresser from Ikea, a bed frame and a mattress.

What is more important though, is how Eugene is practically bare. He's only wearing some low rise jeans with no evidence of underwear or a shirt for that matter. Sweat has matted his hair to his forehead, while beads roll down his temples without exaggeration.

He reads the instructions on the bedframe, his brow knitted with thought while he mindlessly tinkers at the screws at the foot of the bed.

Flipper starts whining when they end up being half an hour late for their walk. Snafu absentmindedly throws her a treat, he can't tear his eyes away from Eugene's flexing abdomen muscles.

Fuck. He needs to find out everything there is to know about this man.

There'd be very little Snafu can do with his accumulated heap of information on his new neighbour, if it weren't for the small red flamed application hidden behind the fourth page on Eugene's lock screen.

Tinder.

Out of all the dating apps on his phone, Tinder is by far the most used according to his daily screentime reports. He's downloaded it on the day he moved to New York, which isn't strange, considering his move coincided with the end of his relationship and engagement.

His sexual orientation is set Queer/Bisexual and has no preference in either men or women or nonbinary people. Just as Snafu has quietly suspected. It is still a nice confirmation. Perhaps that is why he ran from his fiance, according to his Facebook he has only openly dated women, he doesn't appear to be out of the closet on any of the social platforms accessible to his friends and family like Twitter, Instagram and Facebook.

Snafu straightens in his desk chair, until his back pops in satisfaction. Flipper is asleep on the rug behind him, that doesn't stop him from talking to her.

"We hit the jackpot, my friend."

Eugene is permanently logged onto Tinder which gives Snafu the opportunity to snoop around while he isn't online. It's four in the morning, all the lights in Eugene's apartment are off. He is likely asleep.

Snafu first scans his profile, then his matches.

Eugene, 21
less than 1 mile away

New to NY, looking for friends/dates(?)
Art Student at NYU, I enjoy sketching, long walks, good music and arthouse movies
Tempt me with your pet pics
Please no: transphobes/biphobes/exclusionists or minors

Snafu strays on Eugene's pictures ten seconds too long before clicking onwards. He'd seen some pictures on Eugene's Facebook, but these somehow had a better edge to them.

In the first picture, Eugene is wearing a loose shirt, he's presumably standing close to a window, allowing the sun to hit his face and reddened hair. He has a soft smile on his face to draw any sane person in.

The second and third pictures feature him with his friend Sidney. It's clear that the profile belongs to Eugene, but he's seen chucking beer with his friend at a bar, in the second picture they're both shirtless at the Gulf shore of Mobile Alabama, where water is as blue as the sky and the sand paler than the moon. Yet, Snafu's eyes directly follow the lines of Eugene's stomach and chest rather than his environment. He isn't toned or muscular in the sense that he works out, which Snafu can appreciate because he doesn't either.

The final picture is one of Eugene after he's moved to New York. Snafu recognizes the interior of his apartment from the online listing pictures the landlord had shared with Eugene. It's a selfie of Eugene holding up one of his bird sketches, he's dorkish, smiling proudly at his presented work. The corners of Snafu's mouth involuntarily curl upwards.

Fuck, he's in too deep.

Snafu has missed his windows to talk to him when Eugene first moved in. This is the only other way Snafu knows how to contact him again.

He begins by developing a software to analyse Eugene's history of matches and declined matches on the dating site. He needs to establish a pattern of Eugene's turnons and turnoffs to ensure he will be matched to his new neighbour.

Gaining access to this information is illegal, but in his defence, it was criminally easy to hack Tinder.

Information of their users is easily accessible, especially once he has access to their e-mail and passwords. The site itself is poorly protected too. He puts on Selena's Amor Prohibido but finishes breaking in before he finished listening to the album. It's less than thirty minutes later. He's never been on Tinder before, but now he owns it.

Arguably this is a waste of his talents, but he can't get Eugene out of his head.

"I'm in, Flipper." Snafu's eyes scan the screen rapidly, "I'm in."

She doesn't wake up.

Snafu copy-pastes Eugene's history of matches and declines into his software, allowing it to run a full search for patterns to create a database of his likes and dislikes. Snafu kicks his feet up on the desk and waits for the machine to run its course.

This step is important, he'll need to know which people Eugene took an interest in and why. Once he knows, he'll create his own Tinder account and force the website to present his profile to Eugene. It's not luck, or fate, Snafu takes matters into his own hands.

Fifteen minutes later, his program finishes.

Snafu inches as close to the screen as possible to read what had come out of the analysis report of his matches.

"Hm," Snafu clicks through the results with a growing relief. These all seem reasonable.

There appears to be no gender or ethnicity bias, but Eugene's matched nobody over the age of 30 or younger than 20. Sports fanatics are a no-go too, or anyone with more than two shirtless pics. At the same time, people with one shirtless picture stand a better chance than those without. Couples looking for threesomes are always declined, as is anyone with any references the series Friends or Rick and Morty in their bio. He often declines those mentioning their prestigious occupations to boost about their wealth.

Eugene likes to see at least one picture of his matches with friends. Pet pictures really do well and increase the chances of a match profoundly. Mentions of low effort hobbies are favourable over intensive activities. Eugene doesn't like overly photoshopped pictures that have been blurred with Snapchat filters, neither does he appreciate overly professional posed-for pictures.

It's a good database. Enough for Snafu to work with.

He starts with creating his own Tinder account. Using the information he's gathered of Eugene's preferences he makes his own bio.

Merriel, 22
less than 1 mile away

Cons:
- Not very tall
- Not very fit
- Not very rich

Pros:
- Better cook than your mama
- I have a dog and fish
- Won't demand any of the above from you

Snafu's first picture is one of himself, a simple but rare selfie. He's in his black hoodie but the focus on the picture is his face anyway. From this angle his eyes are large and hypnotizing, he took it fresh out of the shower, making his hair look extra soft and curly. It's the easiest tactic to impress white people.

The second picture is of him holding Flipper next to Qwerty's aquarium. He adds a text column that says 'my family'.

For the third picture he has to photoshop himself in an old picture with his friends. It's not total deception. He just edits the 2015 version of himself out and adds a more recent photo so he doesn't look as much like a scrawny teen.

For the last picture, Snafu has to bite the bullet and post a picture of himself bare-chested in the bathroom. It's a good one, but not really meant for others to see. The mirror is fogged for the most part, but it's clear that he's not wearing underwear in it. The bathroom lighting makes his eyes pop and his tenses his abdomen until the illusion of abs becomes a near reality for the snap of the photo.

It's a tad embarrassing, but Snafu feels a little more confident when he clicks on the 'done' button to launch his account onto the website.

Snafu shuts his phone and puts it face down on his desk. He glances at the clock above his desk. It's past 5 a.m.

"Shit," he has work tomorrow.

He removes his clothes and leaves them in a heap next to his bed. He'll probably find Flipper in it tomorrow morning using it as a nest, but he doesn't have time to spare to stay awake and lose more valuable sleep.

The alarm on his phone is on and Snafu crawls under the covers. All the lights have been off all night and the curtains all drawn, making it easy to drop everything and shut himself down.

After such a successful hack he usually falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

But tonight, a gnawing knot in his stomach keeps him staring at the ceiling.

"Is it possible to get a restraining order for staring at your neighbour?"

Flipper doesn't answer him, but Snafu does wonder.

Across the quiet street from Snafu's apartment, Eugene has been sitting in his window all evening, with one leg dangling down the brick wall and sketchpad on his lap, he has been drawing a bird who has made a nest in the tree right outside his bedroom.

How Eugene can see the bird in the pitch-black night is a damn mystery, Snafu can't help but be impressed.

Eugene snaps a picture of the work in progress and uploads it to his Tumblr, but really it should be in a museum if Snafu had a say in it. The anatomy and detailed texture of its feathers and shut eyes make it compelling to look at.

Not that Snafu had predominately paid attention to the long bare leg Eugene had swinging out his window. Those skintight shorts he's keen on wearing leave very little to the imagination.

Snafu hides in the shadows of his own flat, sheltered by darkness and Eugene's lack of sense when he's being stared at.

"I'm goin' to jail," Snafu does repeat to Flipper, who's come to circle his ankles like the good friend she is. "Whoever will look after you when I'm gone?"

She doesn't bark, but she stops long enough to cock her head.

"I don't know either."

Snafu absentmindedly runs his fingers through her fur. He's kneeled by his window, chin propped on the windowsill to keep himself from being noticed. If Eugene were to cast a look at him across the street, he'd probably be freaked out by the sight of two large eyes peaking out at him.

Eugene often seems too lost in his own world to notice how he's being observed.

Snafu thinks that he appears sad sometimes. He still doesn't answer calls from his mother, or Dorothy. Snafu still doesn't have all the answers, but he guesses his sexuality had been kept hidden until recently. Perhaps he had called off the wedding. Maybe they didn't accept him for who he was.

Snafu has resisted the urge so far to hack Eugene completely.

He doesn't usually set boundaries for himself, but something had felt wrong about watching Eugene through his webcam the way Snafu has done with many others.

He isn't sure what scares him more, his own untamable urge to watch Eugene's every movement, or his sudden interest in privacy boundaries.

When Eugene decides to finish sketching, he gets up and draws the curtain shut, drawing Snafu back into the darkness too.

Snafu comes rushing home from work with one mission. Matching with Eugene on Tinder.

Everything is set up for success. His account is brilliant and interesting. He's a real person with interests and some wit, but he isn't overly arrogant or full of himself.

That of course, isn't enough.  

He didn't hack Tinder for no reason.

All he could think about during his dragging office hours was this very moment that he has been working towards. They couldn't have let him leave sooner. All he has to do now is wait for Eugene to get on Tinder.

Too anxious to wait indoors, Snafu decides to take Flipper for a walk after making sure he gets notified when Eugene opens the app, which according to his screentime settings, he usually does around the same time every day early in the evening. This gives Snafy enough time to walk around the block and let Flipper have her way at the local park, before returning back home to his apartment.

He hates to admit how nervous he is. He has never been this nervous for a already successful hack to get him the means he worked towards.

After he's returned and Flipped is sated, Snafu sits behind his computer and cracks his knuckles before hovering over the keyboard.

Right. Hacking Tinder.

His clock reminds him that Eugene will likely get online any moment now, giving Snafu the perfect window to personally modify the order of what people will be recommended as matches for Eugene.

Snafu's deep into the website's traffic system, breaching every algorithm-based order the machine had thought up for Eugene. He starts by removing every other potential competition in the area. That includes a sweet-looking woman named Yua who is also studying art at NYU, a muscular man named Tyrell with a pride flag in his bio wearing a Star Wars t-shirt, and also person named Kennedy who has acid green hair and cradles a cat in their arms.

They have all been binned and won't be recommended to Eugene any time soon. The last thing Snafu needs is more competition in such a big city.

What he does instead pull forward five of the least appealing people and recommend them to Eugene first. Five people who are the exact opposite of what Eugene finds desirable in a dating profile. Two of them are straight couples looking for a threesome, one person doesn't have any pictures of themselves, another has three shirtless pictures (including one with full nudity aside from a sock covering his private part) and man who wears sunglasses leaning against his expensive sports car. His bio reads 'wanna go for a ride?'.

Snafu deliberately puts these five people in the order before his own account. By the time Eugene reaches him, it will come as a relief to match.

"This is good." Snafu shuts the Tinder breach off after he's finished modifying the order. He glances at his phone from the corner of his eye, waiting for the notification sound. His rapidly beating heart tells him that he's nervous even when he has no reason to be. Nobody is going to outsmart him on this one. This is going to work.

He rolls his chair slightly back, just far enough so he can peak between the curtains to watch his neighbour's quiet but obviously occupied flat.

The lights inside are on and Eugene is home. For once the curtains are shut and have been for most of the day. If Snafu is really unlucky, Eugene won't even look on Tinder now.

Behind him, Flipper barks sharply.

"I know. I don't think I could survive that either," he says with a sinking feeling in his stomach. It's past 7 in the evening. "Perhaps I should..." Hack into his webcam. Watch what he's doing. If he's not going to get on Tinder he'll leave Snafu little choice. He's tried doing this the right way, if that doesn't work, he needs to know why and what is so much more pressing for Eugene. Snafu's leg bounces restlessly. He looks at Flipper again, who's watching him from the rug behind him. "Should I hack his webcam?"

Another bark, this one's tone is harder to place.

"I don't know either."

Snafu turns around again until he's facing his glaring blue screensaver. He fills his lungs with oxygen, breathing in deeply. Then he looks back at the window. It would be too easy. He can do this within minutes, he can look straight at Eugene and see what he's up to. Perhaps he can finally confirm why he's left Alabama. Why exactly he left his fiance and rich and wealthy life behind.

His fingers are moving over the keyboard before he can stop himself or reevaluate what he is doing. Nobody is there to hinder him from breaking into Eugene's camera. Just a few clicks away.

"Don't look at me like that," Snafu tells Flipper from the corner of his mouth, he's typing rapidly, putting in code and everything he knows about Eugene to crack another password. This one is his mother's maiden name, still not original. Snafu's done this hack a hundreds of times prior. "Clearly he's asking for it."

Flipper doesn't reply. Nobody is there to tell Snafu no. With one last click, Eugene's blurry face finally stretches across the pixelated view of Snafu's computer screen. He inhales sharply at the sight right in front of him, Eugene Sledge wearing a tattered hoodie, curled up in his chair with his phone in hand.

That's also when the telltale chime of an app notification rings through his apartment. Snafu's phone screen lights up.

Tinder : someone liked you. Open Tinder and swipe right to see who!

Snafu's eyes quickly draw back to Eugene on his left computer screen, who is smiling softly.

Snafu quickly boosts up his second computer screen on the right so he can see what Eugene is looking at on his devices. It's not an easy task, juggling between the new match on his phone, Eugene's blurred face on the left computer and quickly logging in to watch in real-time what Eugene is up to, on the right computer. Which is apparently a sitcom on Netflix to which he isn't paying attention to, and Tinder on his phone.

Morbidly fascinated by his own success, Snafu sees in real time Eugene admiring the picture of Flipper and Qwerty. The caption makes Eugene snort out loud.

"We did it," Snafu mutters quietly, it's a one-way service, Eugene can't hear him, but he can hear the dialogue of the shitty Netflix sitcom. "We fucking did it."

It appears as though Eugene is in the living room, sitting on his couch or chair with his laptop propped up on his lap, Snafu hasn't been able to get a full clear view of the particular seat from the window, but he knows where in the flat it is located.

"Shit."

Instead of staring at Eugene through the hacked webcam footage, Snafu logs onto his phone and opens it to see if it was actually him who has liked him. Snafu clicks his way through the new privacy settings and cookie services on Tinder and finds that his first and only match so far is Eugene, 21. Less than 1 mile away.

"It worked."

His careful profile analysis after stalking Eugene has proven to be useful in figuring out his likes and dislikes.

If he likes Eugene's pets and appreciates his hard work and constantly smiles dreamily into the camera while he repeatedly keeps scrolling through Snafu's well-crafted web of mismatches, he can't be anything but good news.

Looking at Eugene's profile is different now, knowing Eugene had approved of his.

So why isn't Snafu feeling as triumphant as he should be? Is it because of the same reason why Flipper has gone quiet?

"Shit." He can't breathe. "We did it, Flipper."

He clicks on the button to like Eugene back. His thumb slips somewhat, almost swiping Eugene away, but Snafu saves him in the last moment. His heart does a leap when a sound effect announces their match.

Over the webcam, this earns a hearty beam from Eugene that stops Snafu dead in his tracks as he was just about to send him an opening message. Nothing big or revolutionary. According to the database, Eugene only pursues conversations with people who do not make overly corny puns or offer sexual acts in their first message.

Snafu knows that he has already won. Nothing stands between him and sending that opening message.

So why does a small part of him secretly hope that perhaps they would have matched even if he hadn't hacked Eugene? He won't ever know the answer.

What is more important? Being guaranteed to talk to Eugene, or keeping their relationship authentic with no chance of success?

Snafu hits send.

Merriel : hey handsome. love that drawing u made. maybe on the third date I'll let u draw me like one of ur french girls

Snafu's eyes snap up to Eugene's through the screen. His left brow rises in the air at the slight joke at the end of the message, but the smile is clear even in the grainy specks on the screen.

Eugene : You're very handsome yourself, but I'm afraid I haven't practiced drawing the human anatomy enough to do you justice.

Merriel : I'll gladly sacrifice myself for your studies

His heart races talking to Eugene. He can't help but feel breathless.

Eugene : hahahha oh don't tempt me. I'm still a bit new to the area trying to get myself sorted with some friends and such. Are you from around here?

Merriel : im from louisiana actually but ive lived here in ny for a few years now. How are you liking it here?

Eugene : No way Louisiana?? I'm from Alabama. So when you said you could cook you weren't lying. Without sounding completely pathetic, It's been a bit lonely tbh. I don't know anyone around here.

Using dating apps to meet people has been strangely ineffective (until now that is). I didn't know that coming out as bi meant becoming the potential sex object to every other straight couple in the area!!!

So he has only recently come out. Snafu pauses, only briefly hesitating.

Merriel : I'm a great cook fyi and ill gladly have you be the judge of that. I could show you around the neighbourhood if you like? I can't help with the sexual objectification, but there are some great queer friendly places around here.

Eugene : You'd do that?

Snafu and Eugene both jump at the same time when their conversation is interrupted by the shrill ringing of a phone.

A brief glance at his second screen shows Snafu that Eugene is being called by his friend Sidney. Eugene stares at the caller ID, contemplating whether or not to answer it. Recalling Eugene's caller history, he hasn't spoken to anyone from back at home. Te twisted look on his face only worsens as the seconds drag by, until finally he sits up straighter in his chair and decides to answer the call.

He sheepishly holds the phone to his ear with his eyes shut. "Hey, Sid."

"You picked up?!" Snafu can hear Sidney's elated tone through the receiver and webcam. "It's so good hearing your voice again. How's my favourite runaway bride?"

Eugene's chest puffs out with laughter, "fuck you too."

Snafu sits back in his desk chair listening to this. He's dropped his phone to concentrate fully on the conversation, not knowing why there's a growing stabbing sensation in his gut hearing the comforting drawl of Eugene's voice completely off-guard with his good friend.

"Everyone's got themselves all up in a twist worrying over you here."

"I know, I coulda guessed," Eugene sighs. "How's ma?"

"I ain't telling you how to live your life, but you gotta answer your phone to ask her that yourself." Eugene stays quiet. Sidney takes a deep breath. "Dorothy is still heartbroken 'bout the whole gay thing."

"Bisexual."

"I know, I know. Isn't the same, I get it," Sidney allows a moment for Eugene to inhale too, then when he's caught off guard, he strikes again. "You meet anyone while you've been up there?"

"I've been very busy unpacking and applying for jobs-"

"You've been in New York City for a whole month but you still ain't gotten laid? Might as well stayed here in Alabama, Sledge. Been telling you for years that you should start dating them local boys."

"I didn't actually want to leave Mobile."

"Oh I know, but if you're gonna piss off your fiance talking 'bout liking her bits as much as men's bits, you might as well try some men bits, if you get my drift?"

Eugene is smiling softly again. Snafu looks unblinkingly at his second screen to drink it in. Eugene picks at a loose thread on his shorts. "I actually started talking to this guy."

"What?! What's his name?"

"Merriel," Eugene lets the name roll over his tongue as if to test it out. "He's from Louisiana."

"He good news?" Suddenly Sidney sounds concerned, which his joking hadn't allowed before. 

"Yes, actually," Eugene insists. "He offered to show me around here."

"You be careful, Sledge. Don't want no Netflix documentary about you being chopped into pieces by no creep. You understand?"

More laughter. "You watch too much TV. Normal people don't do that shit. Gotta learn how to trust people."

"I find that admirable coming from you, trusting Dorothy to be okay with the gay thing."

"Bi."

"You know what I mean. I-"

Snafu snaps out of it. Like a bucket of ice water's been dumped over him.

In a stiff wordless robotic manner, he begins a full wipe down.

He begins by pulling all the wires from his computers to the electrical sockets. Then he gets up from the chair, opening up the hardware to remove any and all the memory and data chips. Eugene and his voice have instantly been removed from his screen and a deafening silence has fallen over the apartment. Even Flipper is quietly watching from her bed while Snafu brings out the drill to destroy all the chips from the computers and his phone.

He works in silence, patiently drilling through every piece of hardware until it smokes and perishes with a gut-wrenching feeling of pure wrongness.

He broke into Eugene's private world when he was the most vulnerable. Moving to a new city and just come out of the closet.

He has no choice but to shut this entire program off. Fuck. He's a piece of shit.

Snafu gathers the bits and pieces of chips that'd been left after the drill had done what it could to finish it off in the microwave.

He watches the micro bits clang against the walls of the microwave with his arms crossed under his hoodie and his back deliberately turned to the window. It is for the best that he never contacts Eugene again. Snafu should know better than to interfere with fate.

The next day, Snafu takes Flipper out for a walk before he's going to the store to buy new hardware. He regrets what he did with Eugene and hasn't slept all evening. It mostly feels like Flipper is walking him, forcing Snafu forwards on his feet until they wander through the nearby park.

It's mostly empty this early in the morning aside from people passing through, joggers and other dog owners.

He takes back control over his dog and gently guides Flipper to come and sit down on a bench with him so Snafu can light up a cigarette. Once the cigarette is loosely held between his lips, he undoes Flipper's leash.

She stares up at him with wide excited eyes, watching as he pulls her special red tennis ball from the pocket of his hoodie. She barks when her gaze zeroes in on it. Snafu doesn't get to enjoy many things in life, but watching Flipper jump in the air with excitement when he throws the ball opposite the grass field and she chases it to vetch it again, truly cannot be beaten.

Snafu sits back against the bench and inhales a lungful of smoke. He does have work to get through today, but it'll distract him from the guilt gnawing at the back of his head.

He needs to bite the bullet and tell his therapist Krista about what happened during their next session. She told him that this behavior would always come to haunt him, by doing taking these illegal approaches he creates his own obstacles. He can't play God.

"Merriel?"

Snafu hadn't noticed another person sitting down beside him until Eugene scoots closer towards him.

His first instinct is to get up and leave, as he had fully wiped down to avoid communicating with Eugene further. Yet, his legs won't move.

Fuck. Oh fuck.

"Merriel from Tinder," Sledge's smile widens. "What a coincidence."

"You're Eugene."

"I am," Eugene extends his hand to shake Snafu's, who quickly takes them out of his pockets to shake back. He's slow and awkward, but Eugene's smile doesn't seem to waver. "It's nice meeting you in real life. And your dog."

"Flipper," Snafu clears his throat just as Flipper comes strutting back to them, but instead of giving Snafu the ball, she offers it to Eugene by perching her front paws on his knee. "She likes you."

Eugene brightly takes the ball from her, runs his hand through her fur once, before throwing it halfway across the grass field too. He is quick to turn his attention back on Snafu.

"I was hoping to take you on that offer to show me 'round here."

"If you'd like that." Snafu suggests, but it only appears to make Eugene more enthusiastic.

"Great, I can give you my number and we can set a date to get some coffee around here? Or dinner?"

"I left my phone at home." Snafu lies. He'd trashed it.

"Not the tech-savvy kind? I understand, I'm not great with it myself," Eugene fishes his phone from his pocket and hands it over to Snafu, who hesitates to take it. "Just add in your contacts and I'll message you my number, if you'd like it?"

Snafu currently doesn't have a number. "Why don't you send me your phone number through Tinder and I'll message you when I get home."

"Alright..." Eugene doesn't actually seem to understand, how could he? Snafu glances at his screen and sees that Eugene had tried messaging him half a dozen times last night after Snafu had already destroyed his hardware. Eugene adds one more message of his phone number, with a heart emoji. He's a sap, but Snafu likes it. "You've been the highlight of my time here so far."

"Really?" Snafu asks, not quite believing him. "I almost feel sorry for you."

"Don't you dare, I ain't mad about it. Gonna be soakin' up all your good advice when the time comes."

Flipper returns to them once again, Eugene has completely abandoned his sketchbook to throw the ball a little further this time, setting the dog off into a happy open-mouthed chase.

The corners of Snafu’s mouth involuntarily curl up at the two of them together.

"Eugene?"

He turns his attention back to Snafu. "Yeah?"

"You wanted some good advice? Change your passwords."

"What?"

Snafu shakes his head. "Just do it."