Chapter One: A Ping of Fate
It started with a simple notification.
Freddy lay in bed, the soft blue light from his phone screen casting shadows across his face. It was a quiet night, the kind where loneliness felt louder than usual. He scrolled through his feed, liking random posts, laughing softly at memes, until a message request popped up:
"Hey... I really like your poetry."
The name was unfamiliar: Dau._
Freddy blinked. He clicked the profile. A private account. Just the bio: "I feel deeply, maybe too much." No posts. No followers shown. A quiet mystery.
Normally, Freddy would have ignored it. But something in that simple message—gentle, respectful—made him pause. He typed back:
"Thank you. Not many people even notice."
The reply was instant.
"That's because they don't read with their hearts."
Freddy sat up. Who was this?
Over the next hour, they chatted. About words. About music. About what it meant to feel like you don't belong, even in spaces that claim to be safe. Freddy found himself opening up, cautiously but curiously.
Dau didn't ask for selfies. He didn't flirt aggressively. He just listened. And when he spoke, his words felt like poetry, unpolished and real.
Before logging off, Dau said:
"I hope you sleep well tonight. You deserve peace."
Freddy stared at the message long after Dau had gone offline. No one had ever said that to him. Not like that. Not with such quiet certainty.
He didn't know who Dau really was. Not yet.
But in that moment, Freddy felt something stir in him.
Not attraction.
Not obsession.
Something gentler.
Hope.
Chapter Two: DMs and Midnight Calls
The next night, Dau messaged first.
"Hey, Freddy. How was your day?"
Just seeing his name brought a soft smile to Freddy's face. He had waited for that message all day, checking his phone more often than he cared to admit. It was silly, he thought—catching feelings for someone he'd never met, only known for a day. And yet, it didn't feel silly. It felt... safe.
They talked for hours.
Dau told him about his love for acoustic music, how the guitar strings felt like veins carrying emotions. Freddy shared a secret Instagram page where he posted his raw, unedited poetry—something he never shared with anyone. Dau read every piece, responding with thoughtful, personal reactions, not just generic praise.
"This one… 'I kissed the silence goodnight'… That line hit me like a wave," Dau messaged. "You write what I feel but don't know how to say."
Freddy blushed. No one had ever seen him like that before.
As the nights passed, the chats became longer. Text turned into voice notes, laughter echoing softly through midnight stillness. Then came the first call. Freddy hesitated before answering, nerves twisting in his stomach. But when Dau's calm voice filled his ear—soft, steady, warm—it was like being wrapped in a blanket made of light.
They talked about everything.
Family.
Fear.
Loneliness.
Love.
Freddy confessed how love always felt like a war—one where he always lost.
Dau replied, "Maybe the problem isn't that you love too much… maybe it's that they loved too little."
Freddy said nothing. His silence wasn't empty—it was full. Full of unspoken thank-yous, of cracks quietly sealing shut.
Before the call ended, Dau said softly, "If no one has told you today—you're enough, Freddy. Just like this."
Freddy didn't sleep that night.
He floated
Chapter Three: A Digital Flame
Two weeks passed.
Freddy and Dau now talked every night without fail. Their calls weren't just conversations anymore—they were rituals. Even the silence between them felt sacred. Freddy didn't know how to describe what they had, but whatever it was, it glowed softly in his chest like a lantern in the dark.
One night, Dau said it.
"Freddy... I think I'm falling for you."
Freddy's breath caught. He stared at the message for nearly a minute before replying:
"Me too."
It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't loud. But it was real. Honest.
They didn't label it. They didn't need to.
But love—real love—rarely blooms without drawing shadows.
A few days later, Freddy got a follow request from someone named Sam_.wth. The profile looked casual: filtered selfies, gym pics, some deep captions. They had one mutual follower: Dau.
Curious, Freddy accepted.
The first DM came quickly:
"You and Dau, huh?"
Freddy blinked. He hadn't told anyone about Dau. Not even his closest friend.
"Yeah. You know him?"
"He's my uncle," Sam replied.
Freddy paused. Uncle? But Dau never mentioned—
"Small world," Sam continued. "Just... be careful, Freddy. There's a lot about Dau you don't know."
Freddy's stomach tightened.
He tried asking Dau about Sam the next night, casually.
Dau's voice shifted—subtle, but Freddy noticed.
"Yeah, Sam's family. But... we're not close. He's been through a lot. Just don't let him mess with your head."
Freddy nodded, even though doubt crept in like a cold draft.
Still, he pushed it aside.
He trusted Dau.
But something had shifted. Slightly. Quietly.
Like a match striking in the dark.
A digital flame had been lit—and somewhere in the background, shadows began to stir.
---
Chapter Four: Ghosts in the Feed
The day started with sunshine. Freddy was smiling more. Writing again. Even his coffee tasted better.
But peace never lasts long online.
That afternoon, while scrolling through his notifications, Freddy noticed a new message request—Eddy.Lane. The name rang a faint bell, but he couldn't place it. The profile was clean: a few black-and-white photos, aesthetic quotes, barely any personal info.
He hesitated, then opened the message.
"Hey Freddy. Hope this isn't weird. I saw you on Sam's story. You're with Dau?"
Freddy's chest tightened.
"Yeah. Why?"
"Just wanted to say... be careful. You seem like a sweet guy. Dau plays games."
Freddy frowned.
"What games?"
"He was talking to my friend a few months ago. Said he was in love. Same sweet words. Same late-night calls. Then ghosted him when someone new showed up."
Freddy stared at the message.
His hands trembled slightly.
"That doesn't sound like him," he replied.
"I know how it sounds," Eddy sent back. "Just don't let your heart get used, Freddy. I've seen him do it before."
Freddy didn't reply.
He closed the app.
Then reopened it.
Typed a message to Dau.
Deleted it.
That night, he and Dau still talked, but Freddy's voice had a quiet edge to it. He tried to act normal, but Dau picked up on it.
"Everything okay?"
"Yeah... just tired."
But he wasn't tired. He was spiraling.
Sam's warning. Now Eddy's message.
What if they were right?
Or worse...
What if they were lying?
And in the shadows, someone was stitching cracks into their love, one quiet message at a time.
Chapter Five: The Circle Closes In
Freddy couldn't sleep.
Not since Eddy's message. Not since Sam's warnings.
Dau still texted every night—still warm, still present. But doubt had dug its claws deep into Freddy's thoughts. He didn't know what to believe anymore. He just wanted to breathe.
Late one night, around 2:17 AM, Freddy's phone buzzed again.
Unknown Account: "You up?"
No name. No profile picture. The account had no posts, no bio, no mutuals. Just the username: @SoulEcho__
Freddy stared at the screen.
He hesitated... then replied.
"Who's this?"
A minute passed.
@SoulEcho__: "Someone who knows what's going on behind your back."
Freddy's stomach sank.
"What are you talking about?"
@SoulEcho__: "Dau isn't who you think he is. He's been talking to someone else. I thought you deserved to know."
Freddy's fingers went cold.
"Who are you?"
@SoulEcho__: "Someone who cares."
Attached was a screenshot. A blurred picture of a chat. A profile that looked like Dau's, saying:
> "Can't wait to hear your voice again tonight."
Freddy's chest tightened.
It was dated yesterday.
He didn't know what to believe. The messages, the warnings, the fake smiles—his trust was unraveling like thread.
He typed a message to Dau.
Stopped.
Then called.
No answer.
A few minutes later, Dau texted:
"Sorry love, fell asleep. You okay?"
Freddy stared at the screen.
Everything in him wanted to believe. But belief was bleeding.
And somewhere behind that fake account… behind those lies… was someone pulling strings.
What Freddy didn't know was that @SoulEcho__ wasn't random.
It was Seth.
And he had just opened the wound that might destroy everything.
Chapter Six: The Fall
Freddy didn't sleep that night.
His mind raced with questions that had no answers—at least not the ones he wanted. The screenshot. The anonymous message. Sam. Eddy. All pointing in the same direction.
Toward Dau.
But when he looked back at their late-night calls, their tender words, the way Dau made him feel seen and safe... he couldn't imagine it all being fake.
Still, doubt is a seed. And it was growing roots.
The next evening, a new message came. This time, from someone named @Vin_RealTalk.
Freddy groaned. Another one?
Vin's message was blunt.
"You need to open your eyes. Dau is using you."
"Who are you?" Freddy replied.
"Let's just say I've seen the game from the inside. Ask Dau who 'Theo' is."
Freddy froze.
Theo?
Vin followed with another screenshot. This time, it was a snippet of a video call. The profile in the corner was Dau._—same name, same layout. The face was blurred, but the tone of the chat was unmistakably intimate.
"This is from two nights ago," Vin wrote. "You were asleep. Dau wasn't."
Freddy couldn't breathe. Every part of him screamed wait, ask, confirm... but his heart was already fractured.
So he did the one thing he hadn't done since they started talking.
He left Dau on read.
That night, Dau messaged again.
"You okay, love? I've been feeling something's wrong. Talk to me."
Freddy stared at the message. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard, but he had no words. Just a storm.
Then he did it.
He blocked Dau.
Silence swallowed everything.
No more goodnight calls.
No more midnight laughter.
Just a broken screen and a heart too tired to cry.
Somewhere far from his phone, Dau saw the message "User not found."
And in that moment, he knew—
Someone had gotten to Freddy.
Chapter Seven: Vanishing Blue Ticks
It had been five days.
Five days without a word from Dau.
No messages. No typing dots. No stories. No late-night calls.
Just cold, empty silence.
Freddy checked the chat anyway—out of habit, out of hope. But all he saw was the last message Dau sent:
"Talk to me."
The blue ticks stared back like ghosts.
But there was more than heartbreak haunting Freddy now.
It was guilt.
Not because he left Dau unread.
But because he knew deep down…
It wasn't just him.
Not really.
Weeks before the messages from Sam, Eddy, Seth, or Vin—there was a secret.
A secret that started with desire.
And turned into a quiet, fragile agreement.
Dau, Freddy, and Eddy. Together. All three.
It was Dau's idea. He believed love didn't have to be boxed in. That connection could stretch beyond boundaries if it was honest and respectful.
Freddy had hesitated. But Eddy was charming, soft-spoken, and surprisingly thoughtful. When the three of them called together, it felt surreal—like some hidden part of him had found freedom. No rules. No shame. Just love in its own chaotic shape.
But things shifted.
Eddy grew distant. He started calling Freddy less. Messaging at odd hours. Sometimes not replying at all. Dau assured Freddy it was just stress. But the warmth began to fade.
Then came the whispers.
The lies.
The betrayal.
What Freddy didn't know was that Eddy had grown jealous.
Of the way Dau always said "goodnight, Freddy" last.
Of the way Freddy lit up when Dau spoke.
So Eddy turned to Seth.
And Seth turned to manipulation.
And Vin? Vin just wanted to watch things burn.
Now, Freddy sat in silence, realizing the pieces fit too perfectly. That maybe Dau never betrayed him.
Maybe it was Eddy who cracked the golden love from within.
But it was too late.
Dau was gone.
And Freddy had been the one to shut the door.
Chapter Eight: Password to the Truth
Freddy didn't plan to tell anyone. Not about Dau. Not about Eddy. And certainly not about the twisted triangle they had all tried to protect.
But Mercy wasn't just anyone.
She'd been his anchor since childhood. The one person who could look at him and see the storm before he spoke.
She noticed the change instantly.
"You've been quiet," she said, brushing her braids behind her ear as they sat beneath the big tree behind her house.
"I'm fine," Freddy muttered, eyes on his phone.
"Don't lie to me. Is it about Dau?"
Freddy flinched.
"I blocked him," he confessed. "And I think I made a mistake."
Mercy didn't judge. She never did. Instead, she asked the one question no one else had:
"What really happened between you, Dau, and Eddy?"
Freddy hesitated. Then, piece by piece, he let it spill—the agreement, the late-night calls, the harmony that once existed between the three of them.
And then, the unraveling.
Mercy listened in silence. Her expression sharpened only when he mentioned the fake accounts and Vin's message.
"That doesn't sound like Dau," she said. "But it sounds exactly like someone pretending to be him."
She asked to see the screenshots.
Freddy handed her the phone.
She scanned the image with careful eyes.
"This screenshot—look closer at the profile. The username's one letter off."
Freddy zoomed in.
It wasn't @Dau._.
It was @Dauv._—a clone.
His chest tightened. "You're right…"
Mercy opened her laptop. "If we can get into your old shared cloud folder—the one you and Dau used—I bet we'll find more. Do you remember the password?"
Freddy nodded.
It was a line Dau once whispered during a call:
"Golden love never fades."
They typed it in.
The folder opened.
And there—buried deep in the backups—was a full voice note Dau had recorded but never sent. A confession.
Freddy clicked play.
> "If you're hearing this, Freddy, it's because I'm losing you... and I don't know how to stop it. I never wanted to share you—I just wanted you to be loved fully. I thought Eddy could do that too. But he changed. He became someone I didn't recognize. I think he's trying to break us. And I'm scared he'll win..."
Freddy dropped the phone.
Tears welled up.
Everything he thought he knew… was shattered again.
This time, not by betrayal.
But by truth.
And the realization that maybe the golden one had been honest all along.
Chapter Nine: Mercy's Mission
Mercy had never been the type to sit back and watch people she loved suffer. And now, with the truth burning in her chest and Freddy silently crumbling beside her, she knew one thing—
She had to act.
That night, she created a fake profile—something convincing, untraceable, bold. She named it @TruthUncovered.
She followed Eddy first.
Then Seth.
Then Vin.
Each one accepted, within hours.
By midnight, Eddy sent a DM:
"New face. You cute. Where you from?"
Mercy didn't reply.
Not yet.
She just scrolled.
Read.
Collected.
And found something strange on Eddy's story highlights—screenshots of DMs from Seth and Vin, blurred names but recognizable language. Words that matched exactly what Freddy had been sent days earlier.
She screenshotted everything.
Then she texted Freddy:
"I'm going in."
---
The next day, Mercy messaged Eddy directly from her real account.
"We need to talk. In person. I know what you did."
The reply came fast.
"You're bluffing."
She sent a photo of the fake account chatting with Eddy and a screenshot of the blurred story highlight—unblurred using reverse tools.
Ten seconds later, Eddy called.
Mercy didn't flinch.
"I'm only going to ask this once," she said, voice cold. "Why did you turn Freddy against Dau? What did Dau ever do to you?"
There was a pause.
Then Eddy laughed. Quiet. Bitter.
"He picked him," Eddy said. "That's it. He picked Freddy. I was supposed to be the one."
Mercy's heart sank.
"You three agreed," she whispered. "It wasn't a competition."
"Maybe not to Dau," Eddy said. "But it was to me. And when he started saying 'I love you' to Freddy more… when he started falling too hard? I couldn't take it."
Mercy didn't say a word.
"And Seth?" she asked. "Where does he fit?"
Eddy hesitated.
"He hates Dau. Always has. Said he was fake, arrogant. I just… gave him a reason to go after him."
"And Vin?"
"He just likes drama."
Mercy hung up.
Her hands were trembling—but her heart was steady.
She turned to Freddy, who had been listening from across the room.
"It was never Dau."
Freddy nodded slowly, tears running down his cheeks.
"I blocked the one person who truly loved me."
Mercy reached for his hand.
"Then go fix it."
Chapter Ten: The Eve We Fell
(Flashback – Christmas Eve, One Year Ago)
It was cold that night.
The city glowed with strings of fairy lights, laughter drifting from balconies, and the scent of roasted food warming the air. Freddy had nowhere to be—not really. His family was scattered, and most of his friends were out of town.
Except Eddy.
They hadn't known each other long then. Just a few chats in a queer support group online, a couple of video calls, playful flirtation sprinkled with real stories. Vulnerability.
And loneliness.
Eddy had texted:
"Come over. No one should spend Christmas alone."
Freddy had hesitated.
Then said yes.
---
Eddy's apartment was small but warm—pillows tossed on the floor, candles burning low, an old playlist humming in the background. He wore a loose sweatshirt, no socks, eyes soft behind his glasses.
Freddy smiled nervously at the doorway.
"You clean up well," Eddy teased.
"You burn candles like a romance novel," Freddy replied.
They both laughed.
Then silence.
Comfortable.
Electric.
They drank cheap red wine on the floor. Talked about things that didn't make it into Instagram posts—family fights, closeted friends, feeling too much all the time. Freddy said love scared him. Eddy said love had already hurt him.
Then, softly:
"What if we didn't sleep alone tonight?"
Freddy looked up.
Eddy didn't reach. Didn't push. Just waited.
Freddy nodded.
They kissed.
Not fast. Not rough. Just warm—tentative and hungry. They moved to the bed slowly, clothes dropping like armor. Skin to skin, chest to chest, breath to breath.
It wasn't about lust.
It was about needing.
And that night, under fairy lights and soft covers, Freddy let someone hold all of him. Fully. Freely. For the first time in a long time.
When the morning came, Freddy woke up in Eddy's arms.
And whispered:
"Maybe I believe in this."
Eddy had smiled.
But now, a year later, that smile felt like a lie written in heat.