BFDI AND II ONESHOT BOOK!

Trife: I Hate that I Love You - part 2

It had officially been a week since Knife and Trophy became a couple. Naturally, the rumours had started to swirl almost immediately. The two of them were spending more time together than they ever had before casually hanging out, talking in quiet corners, even laughing once or twice, which was surreal enough to spark suspicion on its own. Most people assumed Knife and Trophy hated each other's guts. That was just the dynamic, right? But, of course, no one really knew the full story.

No one had any idea that Trophy's aggressive behavior had masked something deeper... years of bottled-up feelings, internal conflict, and denial. It had never been about hate. It had always been infatuation. An ugly, desperate kind he didn't know how to handle. But why would anyone guess that? Nobody was psychoanalyzing them... well, except for Fan.

Fan had been watching their dynamic like a hawk for years, long before this week of closeness. He'd built entire theories around them, weird little diagrams, scribbled notes, multiple blog drafts, some probably with red string... but nobody ever took him seriously. Not until now.

Suddenly, people around the hotel were asking Fan what he thought. Whispers filled the halls. "Did you see them at breakfast?" "They were walking back from the gym together!" "I swear I saw Knife smile. Smile!" And there was Fan, loving every second of it. He was in his element, finally getting recognition for his "silly little theories." Now he was conducting full-on interviews, asking questions, jotting things down in a worn-out notebook.

He'd tried to get something out of Tissues... who definitely knew something– but Tissues, despite being nervous around Trophy as always, stood his ground. He may have been timid, but he was loyal, and he'd promised not to spill anything about the relationship.

Still, Fan was relentless. He wanted confirmation. Something definitive. Because if he couldn't post it to the wiki as fact, it remained speculation, and speculation wasn't enough. He was keeping tabs on every odd moment and collecting "evidence" like it was part of an investigation.

One story he'd gathered came from OJ, who had spotted Trophy and Knife having breakfast together early one morning. Knife had even made Trophy a cup of tea, which, frankly, had shocked OJ to his core. At first, he'd wondered if this was some weird blackmail thing again, like the time Trophy had forced Knife into doing favours back in season 2, But that didn't really hold water anymore. Knife didn't care about appearances these days. He wasn't the type to cave in over embarrassment, not anymore. No, this had looked genuine. Knife had looked comfortable.

By Friday, exactly one week into their secret, sort-of-public relationship... the rumours were burning hot. People were obsessed. And at that very moment, Knife and Trophy were lounging in the hotel lobby as if they hadn't become the week's most talked-about topic.

The scene looked almost domestic.

They were sitting on the main couch, the mid-afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows. Knife was in the middle, flanked by Pickle on one side and Trophy on the other. Trophy had one arm draped lazily around Knife's shoulders, his other resting on his crossed legs while he leaned back, one foot tapping against the coffee table. Pickle and Knife were in the middle of a heated video game match, trying to beat some frustrating boss, gritting their teeth in unison.

They looked normal. Calm. Happy, even.

That's when Fan walked in.

He hadn't expected to find them all there, especially not like this. He froze mid-step, his eyes immediately locking onto Trophy's arm around Knife.

"Oh my god!" he gasped, louder than necessary, voice full of manic glee.

Knife didn't react. His eyes stayed on the game. But Trophy's attention snapped to Fan instantly. His casual arm dropped from Knife's shoulder like it had burned him, folding stiffly across his chest. He narrowed his eyes, his entire expression darkening.