i was misdiagnosed as having different rage and defiance disorders my entire childhood bc every white psyche and doctor i saw only saw me as black and nothing else, they saw black ppl as inherently violent and stupid and could not picture me being autistic and dealing with delusions, and u think race has nothing to do with it?
“majority of white people see anyone brown as subhuman” “ugh! that sucks….. its just like how some ppl r a little rude to me, a white person, for having green hair!” no. thats different, i promise u its different
ⓘ : drunk sex / intoxication, explicit smut (oral + penetrative), messy sex (spit, slick, cum leaking, soaked sheets), praise kink, light filth / dirty talk, overstimulation, crying from being overwhelmed, pinning / light manhandling, switch dynamics (starts sub, flips to dom), creampie
👼🏻 : hi me is back …
you barely get the apartment door open before anton is on you.
he’s been like this the whole ride home. clingy. restless. hands never staying still. the second the door clicks shut he crowds you back against it, face buried in your neck, breath warm and a little sweet from whatever he’d been drinking. his hands are already under your shirt, palms sliding up your sides like he can’t stand not touching you for even a second. you can feel how hard he is already, grinding against your thigh without shame.
“missed you,” he mumbles, voice soft and a little slurred. “kept thinking about you all night. kept getting hard just imagining how wet you’d be for me. couldn’t focus on anything else.”
you laugh under your breath, trying to steady him. “you’re drunk.”
“mhm.” he nuzzles closer, lips brushing your jaw, then lower, mouthing at your neck like he’s already tasting you. “still want you though. want you so bad it hurts. please let me… just let me feel how wet you are. just for a second.”
his hand is already sliding down the front of your pants before you can answer, fingers pressing between your legs. he makes a tiny broken sound when he feels how slick you already are.
“fuck… you’re soaked. were you thinking about me too?” he rubs slow, messy circles over your clit through your underwear, making the fabric stick to you. “please don’t make me wait. i’ll cry. i swear i will.”
you let him touch for a while. let him get all soft and desperate against you, little punched-out noises spilling out of him every time you roll your hips into his hand. he’s so easy like this. so open. so needy. every time you kiss the side of his neck he melts further, fingers slipping under the soaked fabric just to feel how wet you are for him.
“you’re already this desperate?” you murmur. “barely even home yet and you’re fingering me against the door.”
he nods against your skin, hips stuttering harder against your thigh.
“can’t help it… you feel too good. always feel too good. please— please let me taste you. i need it in my mouth.”
you guide him toward the bedroom and he follows without resistance, still trying to keep his hands on you the whole way. the second the backs of his knees hit the mattress he pulls you down with him, letting you climb over him. for a few minutes he’s pure submission. head tipped back, thighs open, hands gripping your hips while you kiss down his chest and mouth over the dark, wet spot already spreading on his jeans. he keeps making these tiny broken sounds, hips twitching every time your tongue presses against the soaked fabric.
“feels so good… fuck, you’re so mean, teasing me like this—”
“you love it when i’m mean to you,” you say softly, and he nods fast, eyes shiny and a little unfocused.
“do, i do, i love it, please just— just a little more—”
then something shifts.
one second he’s under you, soft and open and begging. the next he’s flipping you with surprising strength for how drunk he is, pinning your wrists above your head, eyes dark and shiny and a little wild. his voice is still soft when he speaks, still a little thick from the alcohol, but the words are different.
“stay still,” he says, almost like he’s asking. “just stay still for me, okay? i wanna take care of you. i need to.”
he’s already pulling your clothes off with clumsy urgency, still making those little frustrated noises under his breath like he’s overwhelmed by how much he wants it. when he finally gets you naked he just stares for a second, lips parted, cheeks flushed, eyes locked on how shiny and wet you already are between your legs.
“look at you,” he whispers. “already dripping. gonna make such a mess of you. is that okay?”
“yeah,” you breathe. “make a mess of me.”
he makes a soft, relieved sound before he sinks down between your legs.
he doesn’t tease. anton’s too desperate for that. he licks into you like he’s starving, messy and loud, tongue flat and greedy. spit and slick smear across his chin almost immediately. he moans against your cunt every time you gasp, the sound wet and filthy, and when you tug at his hair he only presses closer, nose buried against your clit while his tongue fucks into you.
“taste so fucking good,” he mumbles, voice muffled, spit connecting from his mouth to your cunt when he pulls back just enough to breathe. “could stay here forever. could drown in it… but i need to be inside you. need it so bad.”
he sits up long enough to shove his jeans down, cock heavy and wet against his stomach, the tip already shiny with precum. when he lines up and pushes in, the sound he makes is almost a sob—high and broken and so fucking needy. the stretch is filthy, wet, the slick sound of it filling the room as he sinks all the way in.
“fuck— so tight. so warm. so fucking wet for me.”
he starts slow. deep, rolling thrusts that make his thighs shake. his forehead is pressed to yours, breath coming in soft little pants against your mouth. every time he bottoms out he lets out this tiny broken “ah—” like it still surprises him how good you feel. you can feel how wet you both already are, the mess of it spreading between your bodies with every slow drag of his cock.
but then the rhythm changes.
he sits up a little, one hand wrapping around your throat just enough to feel your pulse, the other gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks. his thrusts get sharper. deeper. meaner. the soft, careful boy from a minute ago is still there in the way his voice cracks, but he’s fucking you like he wants to leave you ruined and dripping.
“take it,” he whispers. “take all of it. you’re doing so good for me already— look at you, taking my cock so well, making such a mess—”
he needs the praise. you can feel it in the way his hips stutter every time you give it to him.
“you’re doing so good, anton,” you tell him, voice rough. “fucking me so deep already. so messy.”
his eyes flutter and he makes this wrecked little sound, thrusting harder. the wet slap of skin on skin gets louder. filthier. every thrust pushes more slick out of you, coating his cock and dripping down onto the sheets.
“yeah? i’m doing good?” his voice is shaking. “tell me again. please. tell me i’m doing good while i ruin you.”
“you’re doing so fucking good,” you gasp. “using me like this… feels so dirty. so perfect.”
he almost sobs at that, hips snapping forward harder.
and that’s when the tables fully turn.
he doesn’t slow down. doesn’t soften. he just keeps going, deeper, meaner, the wet sound of it filthy and loud in the quiet room. every time you try to rock up to meet him he pins your hips down and fucks into you harder, chasing the little broken sounds that start spilling out of your mouth. spit drips from his open mouth onto your chest. his cock is shiny and dripping with you every time he pulls back.
“ah— anton, wait, it’s— it’s too much—”
“no,” he breathes, almost gentle, even as his cock drags against that spot that makes your vision blur. “you can take it. you’re taking it so well. just a little more. just let me ruin you properly. let me make you drip for me.”
your voice starts cracking. the soft, controlled responses from earlier turn into high, needy little whimpers you can’t hold back.
“please— fuck, please, it’s so deep, i can’t— it’s so wet—”
“you can,” he whispers, forehead pressed to yours, hips relentless. “you’re doing so good for me. look at you, already shaking. already so fucking messy around me. gonna make you come like this. gonna keep you full until you’re crying and leaking.”
you do start crying a little, overwhelmed, thighs trembling around his waist as he fucks you through it. every thrust punches another broken sound out of you, higher and needier than the last. the sheets under you are soaked. every time he bottoms out more slick squeezes out around his cock and drips down your ass.
“anton— anton please, i’m gonna— i can’t, it’s too good, please— i’m making such a mess—”
“that’s it,” he murmurs, voice still soft, still a little wrecked from the alcohol, but so sure now. “whine for me. let me hear how ruined you are. you’re doing so fucking good, taking me like this. soaking the sheets for me.”
he doesn’t stop when you come. he just keeps going, fucking you through the aftershocks until you’re sobbing and clinging to him, voice completely gone soft and desperate. your cunt keeps fluttering and leaking around him, making the most filthy wet sounds with every thrust.
“please, anton, please, it’s too much, i can’t take anymore— it’s so messy, i’m so full—”
“you can,” he says, almost tender, even as he drives in deep and stays there, grinding against you until you twitch and whimper again. “you’re mine right now. let me finish ruining you. let me fill you up.”
when he finally comes it’s with a soft, punched-out moan, hips pressed flush against yours like he wants to stay buried forever, cock twitching as he pumps you full while you’re still shaking and oversensitive underneath him. you can feel it leaking out around him almost immediately, hot and thick, mixing with how wet you already are.
he doesn’t pull out right away. just stays there, breathing hard, face tucked against your neck, still making tiny little sounds every time your walls flutter around him and more of the mess drips out.
“…was i good?” he asks after a long moment, voice small again. “did i ruin you okay? made you all messy like i wanted?”
you can barely answer. your voice comes out broken and wet.
“you ruined me so bad,” you whisper. “i’m so fucking messy. can’t even think.”
he makes a soft, pleased little sound at that, soft and sticky and still inside you, already shifting his hips like he wants to start all over again even though he’s still half-drunk and the sheets under both of you are completely wrecked.
synopsis . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. anton could never let you go to sleep mad at him.
ʚɞ pairing boyfriend!anton x girlfriend!reader - content couple arguement // fluff // drabble // imagines // established relationship // anton lowk pmo in the beginning but its ok cs that's dada - wc 1.2k
a/n: anton in lee youngji's video. that's it. (i need us anton biases to hide him..)
~~~~
it was 7:42 PM.
you had just gotten off of your long exhausting shift from the hospital. patients all day had been yelling at you, demanding things you couldn’t even give them, and just being straight up rude— being home was the only thing that was on your mind the whole day.
as the door opened, you peered into the kitchen.
anton was sitting at the kitchen island on his phone— already in his pajamas. he immediately looked up and smiled at you.
“hi, baby girl.”
you gave a small smile. “hi.”
anton made his way over to you, hands soon finding the back of your waist to pull you into a small comforting hug. he had his chin pressed on the top of your head.
“busy day today?”
you nodded, sighing into his chest. “mhm..”
he then let you out of his grasp, watching you walk towards the pan on the stove.
but.. the pan was empty.
great..!
“where’s the food?” you turned your head back to glance at anton.
he stared back at you, “i ate it,” he let out a small chuckle. “what’s wrong?”
“what do you mean, what’s wrong? did you not care to leave me some?”
“i just got home an hour ago, it was something small.” he shrugged. “you can cook yourself, that’s why i left the pan there.”
you paused. did he really just say that?
"what did you say?"
"i said you can cook."
anger fumed in your mind.
seriously, what was wrong with him?
already being home from a hectic day at work, you were at your breaking point.
“i can cook?" you scoffed. "anton, you sound like a jerk right now.” before you could continue and explode even more, you stopped yourself. you took a deep breath, closing your eyes.
anton stood still in the same place, observing whatever was happening right now in this moment. you then walked off and took your bag into the bedroom you and him shared.
“w-where are you going?” he spoke, trying to follow you.
“i’m showering.”
before he could say anything, you shut the door to the room— leaving him now staring at the white door. he sighed, rubbing both of his hands on his eyes.
inside of the bedroom, you could feel the literal steam coming out of your ears and mouth.
after your shower, you had calmed down much more.. but you were still irritated from anton’s response. you opened the bathroom door to see anton laying on his side of the bed like always. he flicked his head up away from his book he was reading to look up at you exiting the bathroom. you glanced at him for what felt like two seconds, before you walked out of the room. he furrowed his brows and put his book down.
you laid onto the couch in the living room, pulling one of the big blankets you and anton had bought for the living room specifically. the big blanket was now pulled over you comfortably, making you now very sleepy.
before you could fully fall asleep, you felt a presence right next to you. you didn't have to look to know who it was.
anton crouched down beside the couch, resting one hand against the cushion as he leaned closer.
“.. are you actually sleeping on the couch?” he asked quietly.
instead of answering, you simply turned onto your other side, facing your back to him. you tugged the blanket up under your chin more.
anton let out the smallest sigh. ".. yeah," he mumbled to himself. "i deserve that."
a moment later, you felt the couch shift again.
his arms carefully wrapped around your waist from behind, hesitant at first, almost like he was testing whether you'd push him away. when you didn't, he slowly melted into you instead, holding you against his chest.
you felt yourself relax a bit, feeling the warmth of anton.
his chin rested lightly against your shoulder before he buried his face into the back of your neck, pressing the gentlest kiss there.
"hey.." his voice was barely above a whisper. "i'm sorry."
another soft kiss. "please don't be upset at me."
you stayed quiet.
he knew you were awake, and he also knew you needed time.
".. i know you had a tough day." he continued after a few seconds. "i should've known to at least make you dinner."
his grip tightened just a little around your waist. "i'm sorry for being inconsiderate.. and telling you that you could just cook your own food." he sighed against your skin. "i wasn't thinking clearly."
he paused, rubbing slow circles against your side with his thumb.
"you work so hard.."
his voice softened even more.
".. you deserve to be pampered when you come home."
he nuzzled further into the crook of your neck.
"i'm sorry.." he whispered. "i miss you a lot too. sleeping in an empty bed tonight wouldn't make anything better."
there was another stretch of silence.
".. do you forgive me?"
you stayed still for another few seconds, letting every word settle.
still tucked comfortably in his arms, you gave the tiniest nod— it was barely noticeable.. and to be exact, you were still just being a little stubborn.
anton couldn't help but smile.
his hand gently cupped your cheek, carefully turning your face toward him just enough for your eyes to meet.
there was nothing but guilt and affection.
he leaned forward, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your lips before pulling back just enough for his forehead to brush yours.
"c'mon," he smiled hovering over your lips.
"use your words, baby."
".. yes."
his smile immediately grew. before you could say anything else, one arm slipped beneath your knees while the other reached behind your back.
"anton—"
you let out the tiniest laugh as he effortlessly lifted you into a princess carry. your arms naturally looped around his neck, your face finding its usual spot against him.
".. my poor baby," he murmured as he carried you down the hallway.
you smiled to yourself before leaving a trail of tiny kisses along his jaw, then another against his cheek.
".. there she is." he chuckled quietly.
by the time he carried you into the bedroom, the only light left was the little lamp on the nightstand. its warm, golden glow filled the room, making everything feel softer.
anton carefully lowered you onto the bed— pulling the comforter over you, making sure you were completely tucked in before climbing into bed beside you.
with one hand, he reached over and switched off the lamp.
darkness settled around the room, and almost immediately, his arms found you again. he pulled you against his chest until there wasn't even the smallest gap between you.
you let out the quietest sigh, your forehead resting beneath his chin as his hand slowly rubbed up and down your back.
maybe that was all you needed.
just your boyfriend holding you close after a long day, reminding you that no matter how stressful life became— you never had to carry it alone.
whenever you wake up, the first thing you noticed wasn’t the sunlight pouring in through the window, or the beautiful symphony of the birds chirping. not even the gentle hum of the AC.
what you first noticed was him.
“good morning,” anton mumbled, his voice still heavy with sleep as his face was buried somewhere between your neck and shoulder.
you blink, your mind still in a haze due to waking up, when you realize you physically can’t move.
his arm is wrapped tightly around your waist. one of his legs is hooked over yours while his hand is resting under your shirt, warm against your stomach as his fingers flexed slightly, like he was making sure you’re still there.
“anton,” you mumbled, your voice scratchy. “i can’t feel my leg.”
“that’s okay,” he replied, almost immediately. he buried his face deeper against you, his grip tightening instantaneously. “it’s not like you need it right now.”
you let out a quiet laugh at that, even if you tried to, unsuccessfully, wiggle free.
“antonnnn, you’re crushing me.”
“i’m cuddling you.” he corrected, not moving an inch.
“you’ve been cuddling me for eight hours now.”
“and i’ll do it for eight more.” he smiled, pressing you closer against his body just to prove a point. you sighed, but there was no real frustration behind it. this was just him.
anton’s the kind of boyfriend who always has to be touching you in some sort of way, but not always in a suffocating, overwhelming sort of way. something more like a hand on your waist. fingers laced with yours. his head on your shoulder. your hand in his hoodie pocket when it’s cold outside.
but right now he’s being particularly stubborn.
“baby,” you try again, softer this time. “i have to get up.“
“you don’t have to.” he emphasized. he wasn’t gonna budge at all. you groaned, trapped in his iron grip. “you’re impossible.”
“mhm, but you love me. come on, please don’t get up?” he asked, his words practically coming out in a whine.
you sighed in defeat, letting him hold on to you.
“okay fine, five more minutes.”
“ten?”
“five.” you warned.
anton frowned, deciding to push his luck. “eight?”
you rolled your eyes. “fine we can just do ten.”
he beamed at you like a child on christmas day. he settles back in, completely content as his hand drew lazy circles on your side. you stared at the ceiling for a bit, before glancing at him.
childhood bsf!anton x yn | wc: 8.9k
angst, pining, emotions, dry humping & make out at the end
do not fear.. if this does well, there will be a pt. 2 & anton at the end is based off of how he looked on youngji's show.. yummy
anton has broken your heart three times, and counting.
the first time was at the sandbox, when you were both four. he didn’t say hi when you joined him, and he didn’t offer you any of his shovels. your mom laughed when you cried about it later at home.
the second time was in the third grade, when you saw him for the first time in years at an arts summer camp. the two of you were in different camp groups, but you happened to share the same time slot for music class. he was still cute and quiet. he smiled the same way he used to.
you sat beside him with a shy smile. he scooted away.
“anton,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
he looked at you from the corner of his eye before slowly turning toward you.
“we went to preschool together. i’m yn.”
you watched anton open and close his mouth.
“oh, really. that’s cool,” he said dryly, before turning away.
your heart dropped straight to your stomach. it was a worse reply than anything you could have imagined.
your mom laughed about that incident, too.
because your parents knew each other, you heard about anton every now and then. when your mom told you he’d be attending the same middle school as you, you really didn’t care. after the failed conversation at summer camp, you had sworn him off.
but then you saw him.
anton at twelve years old was handsome. his hair had been freshly cut, leaving the back of his neck clean and exposed. he stood slightly taller than the other boys, all long limbs and awkward movements, like he’d grown too quickly and hadn’t figured out what to do with the extra inches yet.
you shared the same homeroom, and this time he greeted you first. you pretended not to care, and he shrugged in response and gave you a tight-lipped smile.
a few weeks into the school year, you learned that anton was musically gifted compared to the rest of your peers, some sort of cello genius. you also learned that he was awkward in more ways than one. not only in the way he moved, but socially, too.
from across the courtyard, you watched him take a step back when a girl approached him with a smile. anton’s cheeks turned pink when she reached up to poke his shoulder. he nodded slowly at whatever she was saying, and you couldn’t help but wonder what could have possibly made him blush like that.
you felt frustrated and wronged at the sight of another girl standing so close to anton. you decided it couldn’t happen again.
after school, you found him slouching outside, leaning against the brick wall of the building.
“anton!” you waved from the door and walked toward him. he didn’t step back the way he had with the girl in the courtyard, and that made you smile.
“hey, yn,” he smiled back.
you wish he wouldn’t. you had to look away before he noticed the pink blooming across your cheeks.
“i’m sorry i didn’t say hi back to you earlier.”
anton watched you tuck your hair behind your ear, only to pull it free and tuck it back again. you were chewing on your lip. he realized he hadn’t answered you.
“it’s ok, i get it,” he gave you a tight-lipped smile.
you let out a relieved sigh and told him that was great. then you waved goodbye and told him you’d see him tomorrow.
anton had been your best friend ever since.
your eyes follow anton as he walks into the cafeteria, shoulders slouched beneath a backpack that is definitely full of things he could get rid of.
he sits at a lonely table in the corner of the room and pulls out a meal-prepped lunch of ground beef and rice. he doesn’t take a bite until he’s put on his expensive noise-canceling headphones and started his music. His eyes stay fixed downward. his leg bounces frantically beneath the table.
you think anton should be more confident. he’s smart, talented, kind, and everything about the boy is gorgeous. you wish he could see himself through your eyes. but then he would be in love with himself.
“i still don’t understand how you’re such good friends with him,” giselle follows your gaze and points her yogurt spoon in anton’s direction.
“i genuinely don’t think i’ve ever seen him open his mouth to speak.”
your other friends glance up from their phones and giggle, looking between you and anton before returning to their screens.
“it’s just been so long. we’re comfortable. we grew up together,” you shrug, and it’s true.
you and anton have grown into completely different people.
he’s continued with orchestra, eventually becoming section leader and making most of his friends there. outside of orchestra, he’s a record-breaking swimmer who, ironically, can barely speak above forty decibels.
no one pays Anton much attention unless he’s standing beside you.
when high school began, you found yourself in the center of everything. teachers loved you, you had friends in every class, and your grades were good. while anton was always alone, you found yourself constantly surrounded by people.
“but do you think that'll last?” giselle stirs her yogurt without looking at you.
“what? me and anton being friends?”
“yeah.”
you furrow your brows. giselle finally looks back up.
“boys and girls can't just be friends,” she says knowingly.
“it’s worked all this time. i can’t see why it would stop,” you answer.
the look on her face makes you want to eat your words, because she knows you like anton, and you know you like anton, and everyone besides anton knows you like anton.
“you’ll meet someone better in college, anyways.” one of your friend offers, nudging your shoulder.
you ponder the reality of college. for the first time in eight years, you and anton will be going separate ways. what if everything between you really does end?
you stop by the orchestra room at the end of the day, as always. anton is sitting on the ground with his back to you. his head hangs low over his phone.
you think he’s adorable.
maybe it’s because he’s so earnest. maybe it’s because he’s so nerdy and quirky. there’s something endlessly endearing about him, something that makes your chest ache whenever you look too long.
you walk over quietly and wrap your arms around his neck.
anton knows it’s you.
he knows how you smell, and he knows how you feel. it’s crazy, but anton thinks he could even recognize the way you breathe. even so, he still freezes every time you’re near. he doesn’t know why.
“i’ll be over after cheer practice,” you say against his ear.
you know his face is red. he brings one of his large hands up and closes it around both of yours, gently pulling you off him.
“i know,” he says so softly, you almost think you imagined it.
the way anton looks at you makes it seem like he wants something more. the way he keeps holding your hands makes it seem even more possible. he shifts his body until he’s facing you completely, and for a moment—just one—you think he might kiss you right here in front of everyone.
then he breaks into a smile and stands up, offering you a hand.
anton is a sweet boy. he’s always been a good boy. sometimes you worry he might be too sweet for his own good. especially in moments like this, when he offers you his hand to help you up. when he insists on carrying your backpack all the way across campus to the gym, even though his car is parked in the opposite direction. when he does things that feel so much like love and never once calls them that.
it would feel right to kiss him on the cheek before you part ways. it would feel natural.
but you know you can’t. so instead, you punch his arm lightly and tell him to drive safe. and anton smiles that small, gentle smile that has been breaking your heart for years.
it’s the end of your last summer with anton and you’ve finally figured out the breaststroke he’s been trying to teach you every week.
being a fresh alumnus on a swimming scholarship to a big university, anton had been granted personal hours at the pool whenever he wanted. the hours you two didn’t spend bussing tables for pocket money were spent at the indoor pool, where anton and you played coach and student.
you’re wearing your lucky bikini when it finally clicks.
the first time you wore it, last summer, anton had been completely lost for words. he’d turned red and coughed whenever you got too close. by the end of the day, after working up an almost painful amount of courage, he’d quietly told you that you looked pretty. you think about it more often than you should.
when you emerge from the water, anton is grinning from the next lane over, shaking his head. You immediately swim beneath the lane line until you’re only a foot away from him. he hasn’t smiled at you like that in a while. it means more than usual.
“i really didn’t think it’d happen this summer,” he admits.
his voice is so soft you probably wouldn’t have heard it from any farther away. so you move closer.
your chest is still rising and falling from the swim when you make your way toward him. underwater, your footing slips. before you can lose your balance completely, anton’s arm wraps securely around your waist. he catches you without hesitation.
one second you’re falling, and the next you’re pressed flush against him.
you’re suddenly terrified that anton can feel your heartbeat through your chest.
the last time his arm had been around your waist like this was when he kissed you in the basement of his family’s lake house.
you never thought your parents would agree to let you and anton spend a few days there together. anton’s parents, sure. yours, never. it was a testament to how much they trusted anton, they’d said.
you brought giselle, and anton brought a friend, too.
even though you’d spent the entire summer in swimsuits around one another, everything felt different at the lake house.
the lake house was skin against skin and stolen glances. it was lingering looks quickly disguised whenever the other person noticed.
every time you climbed out of the water, anton was there waiting with a warm towel. every morning, after his run, he brought back an iced latte for you before you’d even gotten out of bed.
one morning, anton disappeared on a hike with his friend without telling you. so when he came back, you picked a fight with him out of pure spite. you’re not proud of it. in the middle of your anger, you stormed down to the dock and slipped off the edge.
the moment panic set in and your arms began flailing, anton dove in after you. one second you were alone. the next, his familiar arms were around you. he pulled you back to shore.
“are you okay?” his voice had sounded frantic. his eyes looked even worse.
wet hair dripped onto your shoulders as he waited for an answer.
you already knew you loved anton. you’d known for years. but in that moment, it was staring you in the face.
he hadn’t even stopped to take off his shirt. his clothes were soaked through with lake water. all because he’d been worried about you.
a few tears escaped before you could stop them. thankfully, they blended in with the water on your face.
you searched his eyes for any sign that he didn’t love you back. you couldn’t find one. you couldn’t find the courage to speak, either. so you just nodded.
anton spent the rest of the day convinced it was his fault. if he had told you about the hike, you wouldn’t have gotten upset. if you hadn’t gotten upset, you wouldn’t have wandered off. if you hadn’t wandered off, you wouldn’t have fallen. the logic didn’t make much sense, but neither did anton whenever it came to you.
he spent the rest of the afternoon hovering nearby, catering to you in every way he could think of. anton hated when you were mad at him. he hated feeling like he’d done something wrong. sometimes you thought he would do absolutely anything if it meant seeing you happy.
after dinner, giselle puts on a movie that no one is particularly interested in. it’s the last night and you need to pack, so you retreat to your room first, then followed an hour later by giselle, then anton’s friend. around midnight, you sneak out of bed, careful not to step on the creaky floorboards as you make your way downstairs.
the basement was dark except for the television.
anton was still there. another movie played quietly across the screen while his head rested against the back of the couch.
he looked up when he heard you. he scoots over when he sees you at the foot of the stairs, but you sit right beside him anyways, resting your head on his shoulder.
“thank you for saving me earlier, anton.” your voice always sounded softer around him.
“of course, yn,” he replies before sitting up.
“i’m glad you’re ok.”
he’s looking into your eyes again. the basement was dim, but somehow that only made him prettier. your faces are only inches apart, and you think he’s getting even closer.
you were suddenly aware of every breath, every blink, every tiny movement.
“i’m sorry for getting mad at you, too,” you whispered.
anton’s eyes kept dropping to your lips, the same way yours kept drifting toward his. he shook his head.
“it’s okay,” he mumbled. his voice was barely audible.
“you’re the only thing that matters anyway.”
for a moment, neither of you moved. then anton kissed you softly.
the world seemed to stop. you felt detached from your own body, as though you were floating somewhere above the room, watching it happen to someone else.
your first love became your first kiss.
when you kissed him back, you felt him smile against your lips.
his hand found yours. he pulled you closer until there was nowhere left to go, gently trapping you between the couch arm and the warmth of his chest.
it was clumsy and messy, but it was anton, so you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
after kissing for what felt like an hour, anton tucked you under the covers in your room and kissed your forehead before retreating to his own room. neither of you ever brought it up again.
“i didn’t think a lot of things would happen this summer,” you admit softly, your fingers tracing absent-minded shapes through the water droplets scattered across anton’s chest. anton coughs and immediately drops his arm from your waist.
anton has been different since the lake house. he’s been more awkward. distant.
you let your hand fall from his chest, but you stay where you are. you’re close enough to see the way his jaw tightens, and to notice that he still won’t look at you. that’s how you know something is wrong. because anton always looks at you.
“our time slot’s almost over,” he says after a moment with a quick glance at his watch. his voice is flat and careful.
when he turns away again, you feel something sink inside your chest.
he doesn't even offer you a hand to get out of the pool.
it’s incredibly hot outside.
the second you step into the sun, you almost groan. the heat presses against your skin like a heavy hand. the pavement shimmers. the air feels thick enough to drink.
but you don’t. you don’t want to do anything that could possibly upset anton. you already think he’s mad at you.
normally, he opens the passenger door before you even reach it. today, he walks straight past you and gets into the driver’s seat.
your stomach sinks.
the heat trapped inside anton’s car is almost as suffocating as the silence between you.
he starts the engine and immediately cranks the air conditioning. then he pulls out of the parking lot without turning on any music. he doesn’t offer you his aux cord, so the two of you drive in silence.
by the time anton parks outside your house, you feel confused and nervous and scared all at once. everything is ending. you move into your dorm next week, so today was the last swimming session of the summer. you and anton don’t have any plans after this. the thought sits heavily in your chest. the way he’s acting makes it worse. the fact that he’s been acting like this ever since the lake house makes you feel sick.
because what happened at the lake only deepened your feelings for him. it solidified them and made you completely confident that he liked you too. because who kisses someone they don’t like? not your anton, you’re sure of it.
you unbuckle your seatbelt and turn toward him.
“thank you again,” you say, leaning closer.
anton leans toward you, too. almost unconscious, almost instinctive. a small smile appears on his face, shy and reluctant, like he doesn’t entirely mean for it to happen.
“for what?” his voice is quiet, always quiet.
“teaching me the breast stroke.”
neither of you say anything.
you could kiss him right now. you could close the distance and relive that night at the lake house, when everything felt simple and life seemed to settle into the shape it was always meant to have.
your eyes drift to his lips, soft and pink. only inches away.
anton notices. he watches your gaze drop before it returns to his eyes.
his chest tightens. he thinks his heart might burst out of his chest if you get any closer. he’s been a nervous wreck since he picked you up this morning. his pulse hasn’t slowed down once.
everything is a mess.
“i should never have kissed you.”
the words come out suddenly. anton pulls away as if he’s been burned and sinks back into his seat.
for a second, you think you misheard him.
“what?” your heart drops. you watch him drag his hands down his face. the motion looks exhausted. desperate.
you think you stop breathing.
“i never should have kissed you, yn.”
“anton—” you reach for his wrist, but he pulls away immediately. the rejection is so quick it stings.
“i kissed you and i messed everything up, and now things are never going to be the same.”
“wait, stop—”
“i didn’t want to go to college without kissing a girl, okay?”
you shake your head. tears immediately fill your eyes. you know anton. you know him better than anyone, and you know that isn’t true. he wouldn’t care about something like that. he wouldn’t use you. he couldn't.
anton keeps talking, but the words blur together. you can see his mouth moving, and you can hear his voice. but you’re somewhere else. you’re back in the lake, and the water is dark and cold. you’re reaching for something solid, but this time, anton isn’t there to pull you out.
“anton, i’m in love with you.”
the words escape before you can stop them. tears spill down your cheeks, and your bottom lip trembles. this isn’t how you wanted to tell him. you imagined a hundred different confessions over the years. none of them looked like this.
none of them happened inside a sweltering car with tears on your face and your heart hanging open between you.
anton freezes. his brows furrow. he looks confused, flustered.
you tell yourself it’s because he didn’t expect you to say it first. you tell yourself he likes you too. that even though he’s shaking his head right now, he’s going to smile in a second. you tell yourself he loves you the same way you love him.
that he’s going to reach for you. that he’s going to kiss you again before you go inside.
“you shouldn’t have said that.”
silence follows. only the hum of the engine remains. the steady rush of air from the vents fills the space between you.
you feel your heart physically shatter. your chest aches so suddenly and so sharply that you struggle to breathe. anton’s voice sounds unfamiliar. it’s still hushed, but now there’s something harsh underneath it, something final. the worst part is that you know he means it.
“what?” is all you can manage to croak.
anton refuses to look at you. “you shouldn’t have said that, and i shouldn’t have kissed you.” he swallows hard. “everything is all… fucked up now.”
you stare at him. you don’t know who you’re sitting beside anymore. the anton you knew seems to have disappeared sometime during this conversation. this person looks like him, sounds like him. but it isn’t him. it can’t be.
“i’m not someone you can like, yn,” anton says it after a long pause. you don’t understand what he means. the sentence sounds absurd. it sounds insane, and so not anton.
“i love you, anton,” your voice cracks on his name, and it feels like a plea. it feels like a final attempt to save something that’s already sinking.
anton turns farther toward the window, away from you, and everything.
the closest thing you get to a response is a slow shake of his head, followed by a heavy silence. the last five minutes is all it took to destroy the future you’d spent years dreaming of.
your mind drifts back to the sandbox, where anton first rejected you. then the summer camp, where anton ignored you.
maybe he’s always been the same. the realization settles quietly inside your chest.
this is the third time anton has broken your heart. when it finally sinks in, you open the car door and this time, you don’t look back.
you leave in tears.
you haven’t seen anton since.
for the next four years, you do everything you can to avoid going back home.
during the summers, you stay in the same city as your university and work as much as you can. when winter break comes around, you spend most of it shut inside your house, only leaving when absolutely necessary.
you become good at avoiding places that might still remember you.
there is only one sighting of anton during your entire college career, when your only serious college boyfriend wanted to meet your parents.
it was your twentieth birthday, the second one you would celebrate without anton. you'd been missing home lately, and taesan thought surprising both you and your parents would make the day feel special. he told you he was taking you somewhere nice for dinner. you believed him. it isn't until he merges onto the interstate that your stomach drops. you know exactly where he's taking you.
when taesan insists on stopping at the grocery store to buy your mom a bouquet of flowers, you convince yourself it'll be fine.
it's the end of september. anton would be at school. there's no reason for him to be home. there's no reason for him to be here.
but there he is, standing in front of the cake display near taesan.
you hear him before you see him and somehow, that's enough.
his younger brother has shot up over the past few years, nearly as tall as anton now. anton himself has grown even taller. broader. stronger. his shoulders stretch wider beneath his sweatshirt than you remember, the kind that could probably block out the sun if he stood in front of it.
he's wearing a baseball cap. from the strands of dark hair curling out beneath it, you can already tell it's the longest you've ever seen him wear it. you can't bring yourself to imagine what he looks like from the front.
then he laughs, and suddenly you're back in the basement of the lake house. your first kiss. his hand in yours. his smile against your lips.
you wonder if he remembers it's your birthday. you wonder if that's why he's standing in front of the cakes. you wonder why he's here. you wonder if you still love him.
it becomes too much.
your chest tightens and the grocery store disappears.
you're back inside anton's car, the air conditioning blasting against your skin while you struggle to catch your breath. two years of running away haven't changed anything. you're still the same girl and somehow, anton is still the same boy.
you hear someone say your name. you aren't sure whether it was anton, or junyoung, or taesan. you see anton begin to turn and you dash. you text taesan that you forgot your purse in the car, that you’ll wait for him there. you broke up with him two months later.
anton can’t wait to see you. or rather, he can’t wait for you to see him. he knows it’s selfish of him. you still have his number blocked and he’s never been able to find your instagram. still, anton believes you'll find your way back to each other. because if you weren’t meant to, you wouldn’t have spent so much energy avoiding him. people don’t run from strangers, they run from the people who still matter.
he hears through your mom that you'll be moving back home after graduation while you search for a place in the city, just like him. he thinks it's fate. he can't wait to see you. he wants to show you that he's different now. better. he isn't the painfully quiet boy you left behind four years ago. he's confident now, almost too confident. his body he built through swimming at the collegiate level is something he’s proud of. he’s read so many self-help books in the past three years he prides himself in his mindset. he likes the person he’s becoming. anton thinks everything he’s done to improve himself was to ultimately benefit you. he thinks he’s finally deserving of you. that now he could be someone you can like.
when he runs into your mom at the grocery store, it feels like confirmation that he's right. she smiles at him with the same warmth she always has, like she's finally found a son who wandered too far from home. his own grin appears before he can stop it. when he tells her he'd love to see you sometime soon, she gives him a hint about where you spend most of your weekdays.
anton smiles for the rest of the afternoon.
it’s been a month since you’ve graduated, and you’ve accepted that seeing anton again is a possibility. you’ve spent that same month hoping it never happens.
a part of you believes you’ll be ok if it does. you don’t think you’ll feel the same anymore. you’ve grown. you’ve lived. you’ve dated, you’ve broken up. you’ve learned to move on. anton is a memory at most.
“you’d never guess who i ran into at the store, yn.” your mom’s voice drifts in from the kitchen along with the rustle of grocery bags. anton comes to mind. you have a feeling he's the only person she'd bother making you guess. still, you decide to play dumb.
“oh. who’d you see?”
your mom sets her purse on the counter before taking a seat at the island, leaving you to put the groceries away.
“you’re supposed to guess.”
you have to fight back an eye roll and instead settle for a heavy sigh and make your voice flat. “i genuinely have no idea.”
she takes a long drink from her water without taking her eyes off you. she’s being careful, so you know it has to be anton. she wouldn’t dance around anyone else’s name like this. her gaze grows heavier by the second. you turn away and busy yourself washing grapes beneath the faucet.
"i ran into anton," she says at last, her voice softer now that she can only see your back. "he was picking up groceries for his mom. always been such a sweet boy, that one."
“tiny toni?” your dad enters the kitchen, saving you from having to respond. he nudges your shoulder and grabs a grape. “the one who broke my daughter’s heart?”
you freeze. he catches your expression and laughs.
“that was so long ago,” you say lightly. it really was. you and anton are different people now.
"i'm not sure we can call him tiny toni anymore," your mom says.
teenie tiny toni started as something a sixth-grade boy called anton to make fun of him. you'd stolen it before it could hurt him and turned it into something affectionate, something that belonged only to you and your parents.
he would always be tiny toni. his voice had been tiny. his body had been tiny. he'd always seemed too gentle for the world. hearing your mom say there was no more tiny toni feels strangely unsettling.
"and judging by the way he looks now," she continues with a smile, "i'm sure he's broken more than just yn's heart."
your hands stop beneath the running water. "what?"
you turn around, your brows pulling together. the words don't make sense. how could anton possibly look like someone who breaks hearts?
anton, the quiet orchestra kid. anton, who apologized when someone else bumped into him. anton, who never believed there was anything particularly special about himself. anton, who once looked you in the eye and told you you couldn't possibly like him.
"impossible," you mumble, your thoughts somewhere else entirely. "he's a total nerd."
you know that version of anton. or at least, you used to. the realization settles heavily inside your chest. you don't know who anton is anymore. and somehow, that's harder to accept than never seeing him again.
your mom smiles, almost knowingly.
"you'll have to see for yourself, sweetie."
being back at home is boring.
giselle would normally be your only option for someone to hang out with, but she’s moved to tokyo. with nothing much to fill your days, your mind keeps circling back to anton. you find yourself wondering what he could possibly be like in 2026. what he did in college. whether he ever dated anyone. whether he fell in love with a concert pianist, or maybe a ballerina, and convinced himself that because they were alike, he was finally someone she could like. you wonder if he’s even taller now. your mom seemed to think so. the last time you saw him, he'd already filled out in a way that caught you off guard, but you wonder if swimming had changed him even more. you wonder if he finally thinks well of himself. if he ever thinks about you at all.
by the third night of lying awake imagining anton, you decide you need to put your mind somewhere else.
hardly anyone is at the gym at 10:30 p.m. you're halfway through your cooldown on the treadmill when your attention drifts toward a girl struggling beneath a bench press. her arms are shaking so badly that you're almost certain she'd have trouble lifting the empty bar.
"help," she calls weakly. it sounds almost theatrical. you notice her turn her head deliberately to the right, toward someone whose view is blocked by a row of machines. you assume help is already on the way and turn your attention back to the treadmill.
"thanks, toni." the syrup in her voice makes your stomach tighten.
without even looking over, you know she's batting her eyelashes at him. you hope it isn't your toni. you hope it isn't anton. you don't want to hear his voice. you don't want to find out.
closing your eyes for a brief second, you decide to cut your cooldown short. you'd come here to get your mind off him, and somehow he'd followed you anyway. of course the first time you'd run into anton in years would be when you're sweaty, exhausted, and feeling like the least attractive version of yourself. you need to leave before he sees you.
you hurriedly stop the treadmill and grab your things. by the time you're speed-walking toward the exit, you hear footsteps quickening behind you. you walk faster, but it doesn't help.
"do you always come to the gym at such degenerate hours, yn?" it's anton's voice, or at least you think it is. it's deeper than you remember. louder. steadier. somehow more certain of itself.
maybe you can still get away. maybe he'll think your music is playing too loudly through your headphones. maybe if you just keep walking—
a careful hand closes around your arm. "yn."
you brace yourself before turning around. somehow, the reality is worse.
it would be ridiculous to call him tiny toni now, even as a joke. he's settled into himself in a way you never imagined he would. the awkward, lanky boy you grew up with is gone.
anton's shoulders have broadened enough to stretch the black compression tank across his chest, the fabric hugging muscle that simply hadn't existed the last time you saw him. a faint sheen of sweat catches the light along the curve of his arms before disappearing beneath the edge of the tank. when he lets go of your arm, the muscle shifts naturally beneath his skin.
his face has changed, too. the softness is gone. his cheeks have given way to defined cheekbones and the beginning of a sharp jawline. he's handsome. he’s anton.
he's looking at you with the same bright grin you've known since middle school, the same familiar gleam sitting quietly in his eyes. for one dangerous second, you think maybe he isn't just a memory anymore. maybe anton could still be your friend.
"do you let other girls call you toni now, too?"
you watch his grin stretch into an even bigger smile. you almost smile back, almost. your question was genuine.
instead, you roll your eyes, and for the briefest moment everything feels strangely familiar.
"you're still the only one who gets to put a 'tiny' in front of it," he says. "if that makes you feel any better."
"aw, thanks." you clap your hands together dramatically, smiling only for show.
anton laughs, and the sound lands somewhere deep inside your chest.
"and no," you continue, "i'm only here this late because i couldn't sleep." you hesitate. the last thing you want is to stand here talking to anton while you're flushed and sweaty and he somehow looks like that. "but i think i'm pretty tired now."
his smile fades into the slightest pout. "but we—"
"we can make plans," you interrupt quickly, turning back towards the door. "you know where to find me."
anton blinks, then breaks into a blinding smile. “yeah. i do.”
everybody wants anton now. at least, that’s how it feels to him. and from what you’ve seen, that’s how it feels to you, too. so why didn’t you want him? why couldn’t he have you?
anton asks himself those questions as he knocks on your front door for the third day in a row. he comes around midday, when he knows your parents will be at work and you'll most likely be home. today seems like it'll end the same way the last two did, in silence.
he waits anyway. it's been almost five minutes before he smiles to himself. he knows exactly where to find you. the problem is, you don't want to be found.
he can't blame you. some days, he still isn't sure he's forgiven himself for what he did four years ago. but he wants you. and somewhere beneath all the hurt, he thinks you might still want him, too.
he fishes around the center console until he finds an old receipt, flips it over, and scribbles across the blank side before sliding it beneath the flower pot beside your front door.
let’s grab a bite. pick u up @ 6 on friday - your toni.
giselle doesn’t believe that anton could be hot. when you go as far as using the word sexy, she decides she really doesn't believe you and that she’ll need a picture as proof. you tell yourself that’s the only reason you’re taking so much time to doll yourself up for tonight. it’s only because giselle wants proof. that’s what you tell yourself.
the days after running into anton at the gym had been spent mourning the version of him you'd always known. the quiet, awkward boy seemed to have disappeared somewhere during college, replaced by broad shoulders, easy confidence, and a smile that flirted without even trying. you used to be the only girl anton talked to. now you're fairly certain you're the only girl in town who isn't talking to him.
you're not even sure you want to know this version of him. what if you still like him? worse—what if after all these years, you still want him just as much?
but curiosity has always been your biggest weakness. what did anton do in college? what did his weekends look like? did he ever fall in love? what kind of people became his friends? did they know the shy little boy who used to hide behind you? or only the man he seems to have become?
by five-thirty on friday evening, you feel sixteen again. it's embarrassing.
you're standing in front of the bathroom mirror curling your hair because you're excited to see a boy. except this isn’t any boy, it’s anton. a version of anton you’ve never met before, one that’s sexy and charming and confident. one you're quietly afraid has nothing left in common with the boy you fell in love with.
when the doorbell rings, you immediately decide you hate him. anton’s wearing a fitted black tee with jeans. the shirt sits just short enough that if he lifts his arms even a little, you're certain the abs you already know exist would be visible. his thumbs are hooked casually through his belt loops. he leans against your doorway with a grin that belongs somewhere between charming and evil. it’s unfair.
“you might be the first person i’ve ever seen to enter a room dick first,” your voice light. anton's brows knit together in confusion before you wave a dismissive hand toward him.
"my parents are out of town for the weekend." you start toward the stairs. "wait here. i forgot my purse."
he listens, without arguing, without following. maybe this still is your anton.
"i think you clean up pretty well, too, yn," he calls after you.
you hate how quickly your cheeks warm.
the drive starts quietly. you try very hard not to stare at anton's forearms. you fail.
it's not just the veins. it's the way they trace beneath his skin whenever his hand turns the steering wheel. the way muscle shifts so effortlessly underneath them. the way one hand rests lazily across the wheel while the other taps absentmindedly along with the music. he looks comfortable, like this version of himself fits.
it's distracting enough that you almost forget the last time you sat in one of anton's cars. this one's newer, nicer. it still smells faintly like him and clean laundry. he hums softly beneath his breath as the song plays through the speakers, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. you wonder if he even realizes he's doing it.
at a red light, he glances over. there's that smile again, small and knowing, almost like he can hear every thought running through your head. instead of looking away like you want to, you hold his gaze. before you know it, you're smiling too.
anton reaches across the center console. his fingertips brush lightly against the hem of your denim skirt. it's barely a touch, more of a graze than anything. still, warmth spreads through your entire body. his hand is so much bigger than you remember. you wonder when that happened. you wonder where else he could put his hand.
"it's a little short, yn." his voice is casual and teasing. the light turns green, and he pulls his hand back to the wheel.
"do you always wear stuff like this when you go on dates?"
your heart is still racing from where he'd touched you. it takes a second for his words to register. date? you let out a laugh before you can stop yourself. "who said this is a date?" you glance over at him with a grin. "we're only friends, toni."
"are we?" he tilts his head slightly. the question is quiet and more hopeful than teasing.
you look back out the window.
"we were." you pause. "we still can be."
for a moment, anton doesn't answer. you catch him jutting out his bottom lip, nodding once as though he's carefully turning your words over in his head. you smile to yourself.
"but..." you say after a moment, chewing absentmindedly on your bottom lip, "if you want this to be a date..." you glance at him from the corner of your eye. "...i guess we'll see how it goes."
the longer you spend with anton, the more it feels like nothing has changed. somehow, he’s still your best friend, and you’re both seventeen years old and secretly in love with each other.
two and a half hours later, your cheeks are warm and your face is flushed from laughing. anton sits across from you in the booth, looking at you the way he always used to. everything feels funny and every minute you spend with him makes you feel lighter than the last. you think that if anton keeps looking at you with that adoring gaze of his, you might not make it to the car before throwing yourself at him. anton can’t drink because he’s driving, but he insists on letting you order all the fun drinks your heart desires. every time your glass gets low, he asks if you want another. meanwhile, you’re working very hard to convince him that you aren’t nearly as drunk as you apparently look.
you’ve already learned that college was kinder to anton than high school ever was. most of his closest friends came from the swim team, mostly because he spent nearly every waking hour training with them. he double majored in business and audio production because he wanted to work somewhere in the music industry one day. he stayed involved with the campus orchestra all four years and somehow found time to become swim captain his senior year. he graduated summa cum laude, and for reasons you can’t quite explain, you’re relieved to hear he almost joined a fraternity but decided against it.
there’s only one thing you haven’t asked him. it’s also the only thing you’ve wanted to know all night.
“how many girls have you dated?” the question slips out before you can stop it.
the second anton laughs, your embarrassment immediately turns into irritation.
“don’t laugh at me,” you pout, lifting your hand like you’re about to smack him across the table.
he only laughs harder. reaching over, he gently catches your wrist before you can follow through, guiding your hand back down onto the table.
“what do you want to hear, yn?” he asks, resting his chin in his palm as he looks at you. his eyes seem softer tonight, warmer.
you try to remember if he’s always looked at you this way. then you realize he’s flirting with you and nothing is funny.
“just tell me the truth,” you mumble, bringing your straw back to your lips. after a moment, you add, “i had three boyfriends.”
anton leans back against the booth and lets out a slow breath, tipping his head toward the ceiling.
“three boyfriends,” he repeats quietly. his lips twitch into a smile. his brows pinch together for just a second before relaxing again.
anton has learned over the course of the evening that your patience has gotten noticeably shorter over the last four years. you’ve already gotten annoyed with him more times than he can count tonight. he thinks it’s adorable. he also isn’t sure how much more teasing you’ll tolerate.
“i didn’t date.”
anton has always been able to read you. he could when you were twelve. he could when you were seventeen. he still can. he watches you roll his answer around in your head, searching for something that isn’t there. you’re chewing on your bottom lip now, avoiding his eyes completely. that wasn’t the answer you expected, he can tell. he can also tell you don’t like it.
“that might be worse than if you said one.” you frown into your drink. you aren’t sure you believe yourself, either.
if anton had spent all four years in love with one girl, maybe that would’ve been worse. maybe she’d still have his heart.
but if he’d never dated anyone...
you glance back up at him. with the way he looks now, with the confidence he somehow grew into, it’s hard to imagine he spent four years alone. maybe he just never stayed long enough. maybe he had his fun without ever making anyone his.
“see...” anton begins, his voice quieter now.
he laces both hands behind his head, stretching the fabric of his shirt across his chest and your eyes betray you immediately.
“there was this one girl in my past.” his smile softens.
“she kind of ruined everyone else for me.”
the words leave his mouth before he has the chance to think better of them. he hadn’t meant to say it so plainly. he certainly hadn’t meant to hand you the truth so easily. all he can do now is hope you’re too tipsy to understand what he really means.
you do. you hear every word. worse—you feel them. heat blooms beneath your skin until you swear your entire body is burning. your thoughts disappear. whatever you’d been trying to figure out only seconds ago is completely gone.
all you can think about is anton.
about the lake house. about your first kiss. about the way he looked at you then. and the way he’s looking at you now. all at once, you realize something you’d spent four years trying not to hope for. he loved you too. he loved you enough that every girl after you became impossible.
“anton.”
he looks up. he’s never heard you say his name like that before, so quietly. he can’t tell whether you’re about to cry, or kiss him, or yell at him. he only knows you’re leaning closer. close enough that your perfume reaches him before you do. close enough that he can feel himself making the same mistake twice.
“come home with me.” the words are barely louder than a whisper.
you blame the alcohol as you cling to anton’s arm on the way out of the restaurant.
your fingers wrap around the solid curve of his bicep, your nails pressing lightly into his skin as you stumble beside him. anton lets out a quiet laugh beneath his breath and settles his hand over yours. he smells good, clean, familiar. like anton.
he opens the passenger door for you before walking around to his side. when he leans across you to fasten your seatbelt, he gets so close that your lips nearly brush his cheek. you breathe him in before he pulls away. when he catches you doing it, he only grins. then he closes your door.
the air between you and anton buzzes in the close confines of the car. you rest your elbow on the center console and your chin atop your fist, ogling anton. you find the strength to keep your hands off of the boy, and he keeps his hands to himself as well. each time he glances over to see your big eyes fixed on him, his grin grows a little wider.
when anton parks in your driveway, you’re out of the car before he can open your door for you. you stumble out of your boots, slip your jacket off of your shoulders, and leave them at the foot of the stairs. you know anton will pick them up.
he reaches your room with a smile plastered on his face and your belongings in his arms. you’re sitting on the edge of your bed with your legs crossed and break into a giggle. you watch him gently set your things down near your closet. he wanders around the room, picking things up and examining them. you grow impatient.
“you’ve been here before, anton.”
“i know.” he pauses, voice soft like how it used to be. “everything’s still the same.”
you dig the heels of your palms into the mattress and lean your weight back. “i barely spent any time here during college.”
“i know,” anton repeats. finally, he turns back to you. when he’s close enough, you hook your fingers into his belt loops and pull him toward you. you rise to your feet and reach your hands up to his shoulders, tracing the broadness of them.
“you’re drunk, yn.” anton’s voice is soft. hearing it in your room again makes you smile. you bring your hands to press against the hard muscles in his chest.
“and you’re…very sexy.” you have to rise onto your toes to try to reach anton’s lips.
“come on, toni. it’s just a kiss.” you whisper against his lips with a grin.
anton knows it won’t just be a kiss. the air between you and him tells him it won’t just be a kiss, too. he remembers the last time he kissed you, and even that wasn’t just a kiss, either. but he knows he can’t leave you hanging there with your lips puckered and your eyes closed. he’s still the same anton who’d do anything to make you happy.
both of you immediately sigh when your lips touch. anton tilts his head down further and brings a hand up to cup the back of your head, deepening the kiss so he can reach you better. he’s gotten better at kissing, but you’re still taken back to the basement of the lake house. you’re still the girl hopelessly in love with her best friend, and anton is still the boy who finally found the courage to kiss you.
the way anton kisses you makes you more and more desperate. when it feels like he’s beginning to pull away, you instinctively rise onto your toes to chase his lips, needing just one more second. you’re fisting the fabric covering his chest and breathing into him when you feel him chuckle against your lips. when you both pull back, there’s saliva around both of your mouths. you watch anton’s tongue dart out to taste you on his lips.
you’re scared he’s going to say something cheeky about how badly you need him, so you push him down to sit on the bed before he gets the chance. the smug grin anton was wearing is replaced with a puzzled raise of his eyebrow. when you pull your leg up to straddle him, the grin returns. anton’s hands find your hips and press you against him. you crash your lips against his again and bring your hands to his hair.
anton’s hands move to your ass as he sucks on your face. you start lifting your hips to settle them back onto his lap, your hands in his hair tugging lightly in desperation. you pull away for air and anton goes to your neck, craning his head to suck and nip at the skin. you throw your head back to give him more room and sigh in content.
anton’s plush lips against your skin make you feel even more needy. the breeze from ceiling fan makes anton’s remaining spit on your skin feel cool in comparison to your body burning up. you can feel his bulge beneath you, and the size of him like this already makes your mouth feel dry. he returns to your lips and sticks his tongue into your mouth.
anton’s hands bring your hips down on his and grind you against his dick. he swears he can feel you. a moan escapes your lips that makes him throb in his pants. he has to hide his face in the crook of your neck, and your arms cradle his head to hold him there.
you stop moving suddenly and anton wonders if you came. he pulls away from your neck to find your eyes closed. “yn?” he murmurs.
you don’t answer. anton laughs in disbelief. he’d kissed you to sleep.
he wipes off your makeup and tucks you under the covers before he leaves.
in the morning, you wake up with an upset stomach and swollen lips. you aren’t afraid to check your phone because anton’s number is still blocked. memories of last night flash through your mind as you brush your teeth, making you giggle to yourself. when you change out of your clothes, you notice anton even left a mark near your shoulder. you can’t help but smile.
you don’t remember how it all ended, though.
it isn’t until later that afternoon that you notice the note tucked by your door.
good morning :) i think you owe me one. you know where to find me when you want to continue :) - your toni
i need indian youth to remember this anger and hold on to it and make sure that this time you stand up for muslims, dalits, trans community, framers, manipur and student activists the same way next time. now that you've seen how barbaric our police is, always remember that its first victim is minorities & it is our responsibility to let them know that we will not let that happen. when they come for them you stop the ball there itself.
anton, who loves stealing kisses from you. he can’t help it, you’re just so pretty, he can’t get enough of your kisses. he pecks your lips when you’re making coffee, doing the laundry, doing work on your laptop, or even while you’re gossiping with your best friend on a call. but his favourite time to steal kisses from you is while you’re doing your makeup.
he’s done with the laundry, the dishes, even had the time to sweep the floor. when he walks into the room, you’re still doing your makeup for your date later, blending blush into your skin. he sits beside you on the bed, leaning his head onto your shoulder. anton never rushes you — he loves watching you doll up, and how you’ll do your little twirl with your cute little outfit as he gushes over you.
you’re putting on lipgloss when he steals a kiss, smiling victoriously and leaning back against the headboard without wiping the gloss off. he never does — loves the evidence of kissing you. he also kind of enjoys the taste of your strawberry chapstick.
… until his lips start to sting. anton stares at you, eyes widened, lips slightly plumper. this time, he wipes the gloss off, dramatically wincing in pain. glaring at you when you laugh, reaching over to wipe the lip plumper off. he calms down, pouting.
teasingly (threateningly, in anton’s opinion), you lean in to kiss him, to which he backs away, shaking his head. “no, no — that stings, baby!”
yeah, he’s definitely not going to kiss you with your lip plumper on from now on — perhaps cheek kisses only?
can i interest y’all in some anton brain rot? (smut below the cut)
obsessed with anton getting in these moods where he starts spamming his various accessory choices from time to time.
but specifically him in a fitted cap…god.
especially when he wears them backwards and all of his hair is out of his face. any photo of him taken even slightly from the side when he’s wearing a backwards cap…to die for. his nose is perfectly visible, his skin can be seen so clearly even in little to no light, and he has the craziest bone structure ever.
but what’s really enthralling is the concept of him getting so cocky when he’s wearing said cap(s) around you.
he knows exactly how quickly such a “simple” addition to an outfit flips a switch in your mind.
you’re nodding your head “yes” at everything he’s saying and trying to divert his gaze away from your thighs that rub together, seeking relief.
so naturally he plans an outfit around one of a dozen fitteds.
just to see the way your mind runs a million miles a minute behind dilated pupils.
or the way you struggle to hold said cap atop your own head while you messily bounce on his cock.
before you can properly position yourself above him he’s forcing you stationary with a hand on your hip.
you barely manage to whine in protest before anton’s chuckling beneath you, causing your own figure to vibrate in the process.
“relax, i just wanna see what all the hype is about.” he taunts, voice barely meeting your ears as he forces the smirk off his lips to match yours in a pout.
your eyebrows furrow in confusion, but that only lasts a split section.
when the crown of your head is met with the same charcoal colored polyester that got you in this position to begin with, you immediately understand what he’s getting at.
now instead of him, it’s you, sporting the black fitted cap on your head. it doesn’t fit you as well as it fits anton and you admit you feel ridiculous under his gaze. but you manage.
the final stamp of possession is embroidered near your right temple in cursive.
‘Anton Lee’
the visual forces another white-hot spurt from the tip of your boyfriend’s cock onto the exposed skin of your inner thighs.
“this getting you off?” you question, voice low in volume whilst you mindlessly secure the hat on yourself until. as soon as rests comfortably you tilt your head as if to ask “good enough?”
“didn’t you start this?”
before anton can tease your any further your hand is between your legs once again.
you don’t even bother pulling your his pants or underwear down fully, looking to save as much time as possible.
the contrast of anton’s angry pleaser between your thighs has you swallowing hard and praying he won’t take note of the way drool pools in your mouth.
he’s big enough to basically cast a shadow onto your front, easily reaching above your belly button in “height” with the way you’re currently positioned.
your skin runs molten, a mixture of vulnerability and the lack of space between the two of you.
eagerly forcing the crotch of your panties to the side you hiss at the first drag of his cock through your messy folds.
“all this…for me?” anton whispers, clearly referring to the way your cunt is leaking on his cock, the evidence reflected in the minuscule amount of light your bedside lamp provides.
growing shy you opt for a nod, whimpering as you buck your hips once more. his tip, heavy and oozing pearl colored beads, nudges your clit and you twitch.
in one singular motion you guide the entirety of anton inside, wrongfully holding your breath once he’s buried to the hilt.
the burn is familiar, and it only tempts you more.
“y–you’re—shit—so big, ton.” you whine, attempting to catch your breath and adjust to the stretch.
“yeah? you can take it, princess.” anton pants, anchoring both his hands at your hips, almost insisting you start to move. “my pretty girl can take it all.”
the fullness is nauseating—in the best way. anton’s cock admittedly had ruined sex with anybody else for you the moment you fucked him for the first time.
but clearly you had no complaints.
you couldn’t help but fall addicted to the demand that taking all of him called for. pressure from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.
and you’d do it time and time again with no regrets.
the first lift of your hips is sloppy and uncoordinated, but anton is beyond satisfied. when you allow your eyes to drift downwards you can see every single vein from the tips of his fingers to the underside of his forearms.
he’s trying not to cum.
“mmm—you were made for this, weren’t you? made for me?” anton rasps, his teeth clenched in an attempt to resist.
“y—nng—yes, anton!” you cry , interrupted by an upwards grind of his own hips that punches the tip of his cock against that gummy spot inside.
your head lulls backwards, the brim of anton’s hat knocked by your shoulder blades.
but you don’t let it fall.
your free hand forces it the right way around until your view is partially obscured.
obviously the fact that an item from his closet adorns your figure is having a similar effect on him as it is you. he watches you put on a show as you adjust it before continuing to swirl your hips in his lap.
the noises escaping the back of his throat are a sinful mixture of moaning and whimpering.
if for whatever reason another body was near they may have mistaken them as sobs.
“wearing it better than me, baby” anton pants, nodding towards the accessory atop your head. then he’s hissing at the increased hold your spasming cunt has on each inch of him.
you can tell he’s close, but the way your abdomen is clenching proves that you’re in no position to judge. the squelching coming from below only sends your mind further and further into a frenzy.
“fuck—‘s good…really good.” you pant, tilting your head back slightly to gaze at the man in front of you. but the moment you lock eyes you find yourself regretting your decision.
his gaze is simultaneously near and far. he’s clearly spent but also zeroed in on you and only you.
beads of sweat are peppered across anton’s upper lip and you fight the urge to lean forward and take it between your own. the entirety of his neck is drenched as well. you unintentionally mewl at the sight, imagining the brine on your tongue if you were to lean forward for a lick or two.
fuck it.
careful not to allow anton’s cock to slip out you lean forward, rotating the hat on your head in the process to avoid it getting in the way. once you’re impossibly close you immediately connect your lips right below his collarbone, nipping until his moans follow as instant gratification.
the crack of his hand against your ass cheek causes you to jolt, whimpering shortly after. the sting forces you to clench around him once more, a hot gush trickling from your cunt down expanse of his cock.
your orgasm is coming in hot and fast, adding to the intimacy of the moment.
each of your limbs is tacky with sweat, your arousal practically gluing you to the man beneath you. at this point you’re barely even fucking yourself on anton’s cock due to the way your lower body is full of pins and needles—but to put it simply, you’re a mess.
and anton doesn’t give a fuck.
he’s the only man on earth that could get you this close to cumming, this quickly and with little to no regard for his own release.
truth be told, despite knowing the ins and outs of your body, he could’ve shot his load inside of you the moment you let his hat rest on your head. but you guiding his cock between your thighs was the cherry on top.
sick fuck.
you need to marry him.
eventually you and anton are in sync, slow grinding and labored breathing into each other’s mouths being the name of the game.
“c-close,” you choke, eyes momentarily rolling towards the back of your head. “shit! need—wanna c-cum. wanna cum with you.” the trouble finishing your thought comes with anton’s thumb on your clit, lewdly fondling like the joystick on a gaming controller.
“i’m with you, baby.” anton whispers, planting a kiss to the corner of your lips.
immediately you’re chasing him for a proper kiss when he pulls away, greedily whining as if he isn’t taking you in his arms as leverage and flipping the both of you until your back meets the mattress and his knees bracket your hips.
now it’s anton’s turn to finish what you started.
all it takes is a series of careful deep strokes to get you where you needed to be. the change in angle has you convinced that you can feel each of anton’s thrusts in your chest. tears prick behind your eyelids and your mouth starts to move beyond your mind’s capacity.
“ohmygod!” you manage to cry out, words both slurred and music to anton’s ears as he fucks you through your orgasm.
he follows right behind you—well the mess you made of him. once he can feel you slobbering around his cock his hips aren’t as precise, but you’re too far gone for it to matter.
your ears start to ring and through the disarray you can hear him begging you to cum inside.
in an instant you’re a blabbering mess. nodding like you’re answering the proposition of a lifetime and careful not to let anton’s hat slip from your head.
that’s all it takes for him to press his hips to yours one last time, painting your insides ivory.
anton leans down, finally delivering you the kiss you’d been waiting for. your heart swells and you shockingly manage to kiss back, parting your lips in anticipation of the weight of his tongue on yours. you sigh into his mouth, noticing that he hasn’t even gone soft inside of you.
when you pull back first his eyebrows lift, as if to challenge.
“one more?” you murmur, suddenly coy beneath his gaze.
“on one condition,” anton starts. now it’s your face that reads confusion.
Genre: college au, slow burn, smut
Pairing: RIIZE Anton Lee x afab!reader
Warnings: mature themes, explicit sexual content (18+), did i mention slooow burn long fic? yeah. 80% slow burn, 20% smut.
Notes: 21k words. Listening to Jump Then Fall by Taylor Swift. This was a reworked version of a fic I wrote for a different idol in my other blog. I decided to write it again because I (and a couple others) had grievances with the way the original fic ended. Lol. Hope you like it!
Disclaimer: I do not know them, nor claim they would ever in real life behave the way they were portrayed in this fic. If you see the same fic in a different blog, for SEVENTEEN's Wonwoo, that is me. I did not plagiarize myself; otherwise, lmk.
You met Anton on one hot evening, just two weeks into your senior year of college. It was at a party—one where you’d arrived late after a supposedly quick pre-game session with your girlfriends at Lea’s apartment turned into a full-on mini-party of its own. You’d almost ditched the party altogether, but Mina said she had to meet this guy at the party, or she’d regret it forever. Of course, she was exaggerating, but you went anyway.
You were the designated driver since you were the only one who didn’t drink, which was because you were late even to the pre-game. Yes, you’ve been told that being late is one of your many talents.
As soon as you pulled up to the driveway of the party venue, your friends rushed out of the car and into the house, leaving you behind to park. Just as you were stepping out of your car, you spotted Anton, looking tall next to the lamppost, and handsome under the yellow-orange glow of the light. He was attractive—the slight flush on his cheeks, his skin glowing under the lamplight, and even in simple square glasses and a plain white tee, he radiated some kind of glow that made you pause.
He was cute. And he was heading toward you.
Why though? Did he want to talk to you? Maybe get your number? Oh my god. What are you gonna do?
You stood frozen, heart pounding in your chest as Anton drew nearer. Sure, he wasn’t the first guy to ever approach you, but he was really cute, and it was ridiculous how fast you were crushing on him.
He’s coming, you told yourself, glancing around casually, trying to check if he really was coming toward you. But just as he was about three steps away—bam! He hit the ground, limbs sprawled out in every direction.
You gasped, rushing over. “Oh my God, are you okay?”
He groaned, kicked at the offending rock that had tripped him, and then dramatically flopped onto the grass as if it had betrayed him too.
You crouched beside him, waving a hand in front of his face. “Excuse me, are you alright?”
Anton blinked up at the sky, glaring like the stars were personally out to get him. Then, locking his glassy eyes on yours, he said, “Hi. My asshole friends abandoned me here.” He hiccupped. “I’m kinda drunk and you’re kinda gorgeous. Would you be so kind as to help me out?”
Caught off guard by his random compliment, you chuckled. “Sure. Here, let me help you up,” you said, tugging his arm, trying to haul him back to a sitting position. “You can walk, right? You were walking just now.”
“Walking’s overrated,” he muttered, but with your help, he managed to get back on his feet, wobbling slightly.
You told him your name. “What’s yours? Do you need a ride?”
He opened his mouth to speak, but someone suddenly appeared beside him, patting his chest. It was Sungchan, someone you knew. “There you are, Anton. We’ve been looking all over for you!”
“Sungchan, do you know this guy?” you asked, but before Sungchan could answer, Anton tugged at your elbow.
“Yes,” Anton answered like the question was for him, and then pointed a very unsteady finger at Sungchan. “He’s a fake friend. You should never trust people who abandon you.”
Sungchan chuckled. “What are you talking about, man? You’re the one who wandered off!”
Anton smirked, leaning in to whisper in your ear as if sharing a secret. “Friends who gaslight you are not real friends. Don’t forget that.”
“I can’t believe I ditched my girl for this,” you heard Sungchan mutter as he slung Anton’s arm over his shoulder. “Okay, that's enough from you. Where’s that idiot stone? Eunseok!”
A second later, a man came jogging toward you. “Found him?”
“Yeah, help me get him out of here,” Sungchan said, struggling to hold up Anton’s weight.
Eunseok smiled apologetically at you as they shifted Anton’s arm off your shoulder. “He seems like a handful, but he’s a nice guy… well… sometimes.”
You stepped back, watching them as they wrangled him toward a black pickup truck. “He doesn’t seem that drunk, though,” you noted.
Eunseok chuckled. “With this guy? What you see is not what you get. One time, he got wasted and started working on a coding project. Finished the whole thing in one sitting.”
“Didn’t even remember it the next day,” Sungchan added, making a mock exploding gesture at his temple.
You couldn’t help laughing, finding it both amusing and adorable that a fine man like him would have such drinking habits.
“Anyway, thanks again,” Sungchan said, flashing you a quick grin as they finished loading Anton into the truck.
“Bye, gorgeous!” Anton called from the back seat, popping his head out, waving weakly. “I love you!” he added, blowing a kiss your way.
Eunseok scoffed. “You don’t even know her name.”
Anton’s head snapped toward Eunseok. “Who cares what you think, Song Eunseok? You’re a fake friend!”
You couldn’t help but laugh again, waving them off as the truck pulled away. Standing there, you found yourself thinking about Anton—strangely intrigued by this cute, clumsy guy. But before you could dwell on it for too long, you heard Lea’s voice calling your name from inside the house.
“Why are you still out here? Let’s go!”
You skipped toward her, linking arms as she pulled you inside. “I just met the cutest guy ever.”
Your hunt for Anton started the very next day. Living in the on-campus dorms gave you time to walk around the campus before your classes. The problem was, you didn’t know where to start. Your friends could swear they were sick of you, gushing about him and retelling the story of how he called you gorgeous and basically confessed his love for you in under five minutes of meeting each other.
“I know he was drunk, Jill. But people say you become more honest when you’re drunk,” you insisted, not even trying to hide your excitement as you scanned the cafeteria for any sign of him.
“What’s his name anyway?” Mina asked, scowling slightly as she watched you crane your neck, practically spinning in your seat.
“Anton,” you replied, swooning. “I don’t know his last name, but he’s friends with this guy I know from Sci-Tech, Jung Sungchan.”
Mina scoffed. “Sungchan’s friend, Anton? Aren’t you like neighbors?”
You stopped mid-scan, turning to her with wide eyes. “We’re WHAT?”
As it turned out, Anton lived in the on-campus dorm too. He and Sungchan were roommates, and you only knew this because, apparently, the guy Mina just had to meet at last night’s party was Sungchan.
“You’re telling me I’ve been looking around campus for him like a lunatic when he’s been right under my nose this whole time?” you asked, clutching your pearls.
Jill snorted into her iced coffee. “You’ve been obsessed for, what? Twelve hours?”
“Thirteen, but who’s counting?” you corrected, turning to Mina. “But wait… You and Sungchan?”
Mina didn’t say anything. She just grabbed her cup of iced coffee and looked away with a suspiciously giddy smile on her lips.
Knowing Anton was your neighbor helped narrow down your search. For a while, you tried catching glimpses of him around the dorm. You even took slightly longer routes to campus, hoping to spot him by chance between classes or during meals. But every time, you came up empty—no sign of him at all.
“Just where does this hot specimen hide his gorgeous self?” you grumbled. “It’s been three days.”
Lea watched you with a glimmer in her eyes. “This is a first. You’ve had crushes before, but never hyper-fixated on one until now.”
“Right? I was just thinking the same thing,” Jill affirmed.
“There’s no one like him,” you gushed, tilting your head dreamily. “I think he might be the one.”
Mina choked on her drink. “You’re not serious.”
You laughed, stroking her back gently. “Of course not. I’m just having fun, guys. Relax.”
“Anyway, why don’t you just ask Sungchan?” Jill suggested, sounding like the only sane one in the group.
Oh. Right. Sungchan. Why didn’t you think of that earlier? You paused, considering the idea. It was practical and sensible.
“Do you think that’s weird? Just asking out of nowhere?” you asked, biting your lip.
“You’re the one who’s been running around campus like a headless chicken,” Mina pointed out dryly. “Asking Sungchan would be a lot less weird than that.”
You smiled at Mina, batting your eyelashes prettily. “Ask him for me.”
Mina swatted your hand away when you tried to hold her. “We’re not talking right now. And no, I won’t tell you why.”
You grimaced. “Okay, so secretive for no reason. Well, no one’s asking!”
Jill laughed. “Just go to Sungchan. You guys are friends. And it’s not like you’re asking for Anton’s hand in marriage. You’re just curious.”
“Alright, alright,” you relented, standing up from the table. “I’ll ask Sungchan. I’m also gonna ask him why you’re not talking to him.”
Mina gave you a thumbs up as you left the cafeteria, heading out to start your quest. You just hoped your heart didn’t explode from the anticipation before you got there.
You found Sungchan in the dance room, drinking water after practice. You strode over, determined but trying to keep it cool. He saw you coming and grinned, clearly already knowing what this was about.
“Well, well, well,” Sungchan said, putting his bottle down and crossing his arms with a smirk. “What brings you to my humble corner of campus today? Or should I say... who?”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “No one. I was just passing by and remembered I needed to ask you what happened between you and Mina. Why’s she mad at you?”
“Uh-huh,” he smirked, leaning back on the wall. “Yeah, you are not here to ask about me and Mina.”
“Why not?” you scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. “She’s snapping at people because of you, and she’s so secretive about whatever it is that’s going on between you two, so I’m here to satisfy my curiosity.”
He shook his head, unfazed. “You wanna know where Anton is, don’t you? Don’t worry, I’ve seen this so many times before. You’re already head over heels. It’s pretty common.”
“Is he that popular?” you asked, genuinely curious, but then you shook your head. “No. Don’t tell me. I don’t care. Where can I find him?”
Sungchan chuckled in amusement. “He’s usually holed up in the tech building, doing nerd stuff. You know, coding, hacking the mainframe, whatever those guys do.” He waved a hand in the air. “Oh, and I’m gonna tell you this only because you and I are tight—you’re gonna need to bring a snack. Anton’s been known to forget to eat when he’s in the zone.”
You crossed your arms, half-joking but half-serious. “What’s that supposed to mean? Do I need to worry about him starving to death before I even get the chance to talk to him?”
“Maybe,” Sungchan said, eyes twinkling. “But hey, if he does, I’ll make sure his last words are something romantic. Like… ‘Tell her... she was... gorgeous.’”
“Oh my god, you’re so lame,” you groaned, turning to walk away, though you couldn’t help laughing. “Thanks!”
He called after you, still grinning. “Anytime! And hey, if you need a wingman, you know where to find me!”
Now you had a solid lead... and maybe a ridiculous wingman if things got really desperate. But most importantly, you had a plan: bump into him as casually as you can.
You spent the next few days timing your trips past the IT building. At first, it felt silly—pretending like you were just ‘happening to walk by’—but today, your patience paid off. There he was, standing just outside the doors, tapping away on his phone. Your heart fluttered the second you saw Anton, that same flush you remembered from the night before creeping up your neck.
You were about to walk over, but then a group of people spilled out from the building, laughing loudly as they passed. You turned away, worried someone might recognize you. As soon as they were far enough, you spun back to see Anton, only to find him gone.
Where did he disappear to? Maybe he went with that group of students. Or maybe he walked the other way. You had no idea.
You sighed. “Next time.”
The next time came—several next times, actually. You just couldn’t land the perfect opportunity! The universe was against you; you could swear with how each encounter was always interrupted by other people, unexpected circumstances, and now, even the weather!
You stared at the sky with a deadpan expression. “Really? Just tell me you don’t want us together, why don’t you?” you sneered at the sky, as if it would respond.
You were supposed to do your routine attempt at ‘bumping-into-Anton,’ but the rain started pouring right when you stepped out of your building. As if that wasn’t bad enough, you didn’t bring an umbrella with you. You sighed, scuffing your shoe against the pavement, debating whether to make a run for it or just wait it out.
“Am I that unlucky?” you muttered to yourself.
Staring at your feet, you noticed a new pair falling into step beside you. You looked up and gasped audibly upon seeing Anton Lee standing there with an umbrella in his hand. He looked as handsome as you remembered—neat appearance, well-kept hair, and his glasses that suited his face perfectly.
“Anton!” you exclaimed, making him glance at you.
He scanned you for a second. “I’m sorry. I don’t think we’ve met.”
You told him your name—clearly and in full. “We met at the party last Friday,” you smiled, hoping he’d remember.
“Oh, I met a lot of people that night.”
“You called me nice and gorgeous?” you offered, gouging a reaction from him, but so far—nothing. “And, uh, you also kinda said you love me.”
Anton blinked, clearly taken aback. “I did?” You saw the confusion in his expression, followed by a flicker of embarrassment. He looked away, his jaw tensing slightly. “Sorry, I must have had some to drink. I don’t remember any of that,” he said, his voice softer, but there was no warmth in it. It felt more like a brush-off.
“Yeah, it’s okay,” you said, waving it off casually. “You were really drunk, so it makes sense that you forgot.” You grinned, hoping the playful tone might make the moment less embarrassing.
He seemed like an entirely different person. He was fun that night, sweet even. Was that a one-off thing?
For a moment, neither of you spoke. The sound of the rain pounding on the concrete was oddly loud. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest, not entirely sure if you should say something or just let it go.
“Well, then. I should go,” he prompted, offering a nod.
You nodded back. “Of course. It was nice seeing you.”
You watched him walk into the rain, dry and safe under his umbrella. You couldn’t help but scoff. If it was the Anton you’d met that night, he would probably share his umbrella with you, make sure you were safe and dry.
“What a bummer,” you muttered, looking down at your feet again as you kicked your tiptoes to the floor.
You kept your gaze there, replaying the encounter and how awful it made you feel. You barely noticed the car that pulled over in front of you until you heard someone call out your full name.
When you looked up, you saw Anton in a car with his window rolled down. He turned to reach for something behind him before extending his umbrella out to you. It was long enough for you to reach without stepping into the rain, and you grabbed it with a confused look on your face.
“Thank you,” you said.
He just nodded, lips tight. “You can leave it to the dorm lady when you’re done with it.”
“I will!” you replied, smiling at him.
As he drove away, you waved your hand in the air, your smile getting impossibly wider as you clutched his umbrella in one hand.
“You could’ve offered to carpool, but this is fine too,” you mumbled, grinning so wide your cheeks started to sting.
Just like that, your quest to make Anton Lee fall for you was on. You chased him around—well, not really, but you seized every chance to talk to him. First, you personally delivered his umbrella to his dorm room, which surprised him because obviously, he wasn’t expecting it.
When you found him at the cafeteria that day, sitting alone at a table while working on something on his laptop, you walked over with your tray and casually slid into the seat across from him.
“You look like you could use some company. Lucky for you, I am free right now,” you beamed, and he looked up from his laptop briefly just to see who you were.
“I’m working,” he said, reverting his attention to his work.
You leaned forward with a grin. “I know how to multi-task. I can stay still, look pretty, and eat quietly while you work.”
“Do what you want,” he said, noncommittal.
As long as he didn’t tell you to leave him alone, you were fine with being quiet. He was quiet too, and didn’t seem to mind your presence. So you stayed, eating your lunch while on your phone and occasionally sneaking glances at him.
One time, you found him at the library sitting at a table with his headphones in, immersed in whatever he was working on in his laptop, again. You plopped down next to him, spreading your books out.
“It appears you might need some intellectual stimulation. I’ve been told I’m excellent company for that,” you offered, smiling your most charming smile.
Without looking away from his screen, Anton said, “Pass.”
“Are you coding?” you asked, ignoring his refusal.
“I’m studying.”
“For what?” you asked, leaning back to take a peek at his screen. “You’re reading a book on your laptop?”
“It’s convenient.”
You grimaced. “I bet you don’t know what books smell like.”
“No, and I’m not curious so I don’t really wanna know,” he said, facing you. “Can I have some peace and quiet or do you have anything else you wanna ask me?”
“Oh, of course. Sorry. I’ll just be over here being pretty and smart. Don’t mind me.”
He didn’t respond, just nodded slightly, continuing to work. You watched him for a bit, playfully resting your chin in your hand.
“My man is so smart, but so grumpy too,” you muttered and Anton suddenly glanced sideways at you.
You looked away so quickly, you nearly gave yourself whiplash. Then opened a random book and buried your face in it. You could hear him sighing as you grinned into the pages of the book, hoping he didn’t hear what you’d said but knowing damn well he probably did.
You were grinning when he suddenly snatched the book from your hands, flipping it over before giving it back.
“It’s upside down,” he said, fixing his gaze on his screen again.
If it wasn’t for the plans you made with your friends earlier, you would have stayed in the library all day until Anton left. But alas, it was time to go when you received gazillion messages from Lea asking where you were.
Half-heartedly, you packed away your books and got ready to go. Anton noticed you then but didn’t say anything. You tapped on the table next to his laptop, making him take off his headphones and look at you inquiringly.
“I was thinking of watching a movie this weekend. You’re welcome to join me.”
Anton raised an eyebrow. “I don’t really like movies.”
You shook your head disapprovingly. “Guess we’ll have to change that about you.”
“Good luck with that,” he replied, putting his headphones back on.
Another time, you saw him at the gym when you were there with your friends. He was lifting weights, and you confidently strode over, showing off your figure in your gym outfit. You casually leaned over the machine he was using.
“Wow, so you’re not just working out your brain, you work out your biceps too? Impressive,” you complimented.
“I come here to avoid conversations,” he deadpanned.
“You’re still talking to me, so you’re not really doing a great job,” you chuckled.
Anton sighed, but again, he didn’t tell you to leave. He just continued what he was doing, and you watched for a minute, smirking. You were enjoying yourself, despite his lack of reaction.
“I’ll be over there if you need me,” you said, winking.
“Why would I need you?” he asked, resting his hands for a second.
You shrugged. “You never know when you might.”
As you walked away, your friends were waiting for you, shaking their heads, grinning in amusement, and straight up just facepalming. Mina said, “Girl, is it just me, or are you kinda embarrassing?”
You scrunched your nose cutely at her. “I am, kinda. But it’s okay. He’ll warm up to me soon.”
He didn’t seem put off by your forwardness, which was all that mattered to you because it didn’t seem like you were bothering him. You were resolved to continue what you were doing.
You kept ‘accidentally’ bumping into him at random spots—by the vending machine, dorm hallways, the library aisles, or even walking to class despite being in different buildings.
Sometimes, you felt a little embarrassed, but you liked how fun it was to tease him and flirt with him, despite his aloof attitude. He was gonna break sooner or later, and whatever he decided to do when that happened, you were prepared to accept. You had projected about a dozen different scenarios of him confronting you, but the reality was far more unique.
“Look at us, fate keeps putting us together. Ever think the universe is trying to tell you something?” you told Anton when you coincidentally—for real this time—ended up in the same college seminar together.
He stared at you. “The universe doesn’t work that way.”
Unfazed, you shrugged, opening your laptop. “Maybe not, but it’s more fun to believe it does.”
Anton closed his laptop and turned his body slightly toward you. “Do you like me or something?”
“Yes,” you replied without missing a beat. “Wasn’t it obvious? I made sure you’d get the message, though.”
He was quiet for a while, staring at you with his forehead creasing. Then he asked, “Why?”
You shrugged, keeping your smile. “Because I do. Hey, you confessed your feelings for me first!”
“When did I—” he stopped, realization flickering on his face, and then he sighed. “I told you, I don’t remember doing that.”
“It’s okay. I remember enough for the both of us,” you teased, tilting your head with an innocent smile.
Anton seemed to realize arguing wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He shook his head slowly, as if accepting defeat. “You know what? Do whatever you want, but I won’t take responsibility for your feelings.”
“You’re not telling me to leave you alone?” you asked, raising your brows in genuine surprise.
He looked at you, baffled. “What?”
“You’re not telling me to leave you alone,” you repeated, this time more matter-of-factly. “So can I take that as a sign that I can keep following you around?”
Anton grimaced, though it was more out of exasperation than irritation. “You’re not seriously going to follow me everywhere, are you?”
You grinned mischievously. “No, not really. But now that you mention it, maybe I should. What do you think?”
“Well then, leave—”
“Good afternoon, sir,” you exclaimed upon seeing the professor walk in, cutting off whatever protest Anton was about to say.
You lay sprawled on Lea’s bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, scowling. Next to you, Lea was perched on her stomach, typing away on her laptop.
“The guy’s a tough nut to crack,” you muttered, shaking your head in frustration. “Do you think… he’s just not interested?”
“I thought he made that very clear with how he keeps ignoring you?” Lea replied, not looking up from her screen.
You sat up with a sigh just as Mina and Jill strolled into the room. “He’s not really ignoring me, though,” you corrected. “More like… he just lets me do whatever I want. Like he didn’t care enough to say or do anything.”
“You guys talking about Anton?” Mina asked and you nodded. “Sungchan is inviting him over for movie night. Apparently, he said ‘yes’.”
Your jaw dropped. “No way? He said he didn’t like movies!”
Mina shrugged, pulling out her phone and flashing you the screen. “I don’t know the details, but Chan said he’s wingmanning you.”
You squealed, grabbing Lea by the arm. “Do you have a nice dress I could borrow? No! I should just go back to my dorm and get one!”
“It’s a pajama party,” Jill interrupted, sitting beside you with a bowl of ice cream in hand. “You’re supposed to wear pajamas.”
You paused, considering. “Yes, but... like, how about a cute nightgown? Those count as pajamas too, right?”
Lea shook her head. “You’ll just complain about being cold.”
You slumped back onto the bed dramatically, face-first. “Friendship is dead. It never existed.”
Later, while the smell of butter and popcorn filled the apartment, you rummaged through Lea’s closet, pulling out a cozy sweatshirt that still looked stylish enough for the movie night. “This will have to do,” you muttered, tugging it on over your pajamas.
Lea, now in a matching set of flannel, raised an eyebrow. “You really think Anton’s gonna notice your outfit at a pajama party?”
“I don’t know. But in case he does,” you paused, checking yourself out in the mirror. “at least I look cute.”
When you got back to the living room, the usual chaos of movie night was already in full swing. Sungchan and Eunseok were bickering over what movie to watch while Sohee raided the snack stash.
Sungchan called out your name, waving you over with a mischievous grin. “Look who actually showed up,” he said, motioning to the couch.
You froze mid-step. Anton was sitting on the long couch, casually leaning back with his arms folded across his chest, looking as aloof as ever. He was wearing pajamas, which was unexpected because you didn’t think he’d be the type to engage in silly activities like this one.
“He’s real,” you whispered into Mina’s ear, eyes wide, and she stifled a laugh. To Sungchan, you said out loud, “Jung Sungchan, you’re my number one favorite person in the world.”
Just as you were about to claim the spot next to Anton, Eunseok walked past and plopped down right where you were headed. Without thinking, you grabbed Eunseok by the arm. “Move!”
Eunseok blinked at you. “Why? What’s going on?”
You picked up a throw pillow and hit Eunseok with it over and over again until he moved out of your way.
“Wow. You’re ruthless,” Eunseok chuckled, shaking his head but laughing anyway. “Good luck.”
“Thanks,” you winked at him before turning to Anton. He watched the whole thing unfold with mild amusement, shaking his head as you settled in.
“Comfortable?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Very,” you grinned, inching just a little closer to him. “Fancy seeing you here. I didn’t think you’d really show up. And in pajamas, no less,” you said, flashing him a wide grin.
Anton glanced at his clothes briefly. “Sungchan insisted,” he said flatly.
“Well, I’m glad you came,” you said, batting your eyelashes and hoping you looked cute doing it. “It’s not every day I get to sit next to my favorite person.”
Anton raised an eyebrow, unamused. “Didn’t you say Sungchan was your favorite?”
“Ah, a jealous man,” you said, clicking your tongue. “It’s okay. I like them possessive.”
“I’m leaving,” he sighed, standing up at once.
You grabbed his arm and tugged him back to the couch. “You’re no fun, did you know that?”
“Wasn’t trying to be,” he replied, leaning back on the couch, looking unbothered.
Determined to get some sort of reaction, you scooted closer, pretending to examine his face. “Do you always wear glasses?” you asked, feigning curiosity. “They make you look extra smart.”
He pushed his glasses up his nose, side-eyeing you. “I am extra smart.”
You giggled, undeterred. “I bet you’re super smart, Mr. IT Genius. You could probably hack into all our phones right now.”
Anton didn’t seem fazed. “I’m not that smart. And hacking is illegal.”
“Well, that’s good. Otherwise, you’d see all the photos I took of you before,” you teased, leaning even closer so your shoulder brushed his. “For research purposes, of course.”
This time, Anton did look at you, but only briefly. “What kind of research?”
“Oh, just, you know,” you waved a hand vaguely, “studying the behavior of elusive, handsome introverts.”
“Sounds like stalking to me,” he replied dryly, though his lips twitched into a faint smile. You’d almost missed it if you weren’t staring right at him.
You grinned, feeling triumphant at his tiny show of amusement. “Was that a smile just now? Did I just make you smile? Does that make me your happiness and joy?”
Anton lolled his head back, sighing. “Just what is up with you?” he asked, genuinely bewildered.
Getting a real reaction from him, albeit an exasperated one, made your stomach flutter. “I’m persistent. Haven’t you noticed?”
“I have,” he said, glancing sideways at you.
Before you could respond, Sungchan’s voice boomed across the room. “Movie’s starting, everyone! Grab your snacks, get cozy!”
The lights dimmed, and the opening credits began to roll. You wiggled in your seat, purposely leaning just a little closer to Anton, your head brushing against his arm.
Every now and then, you’d make little comments, trying to catch his attention. Anton remained mostly unresponsive, only glancing at you occasionally, but he didn’t seem bothered either. In fact, the more you nudged him or commented, the more relaxed he seemed.
Finally, you ‘accidentally’ let your head rest on his shoulder. “Oops,” you whispered, eyes still fixed on the screen. “My bad.”
Anton sighed, but to your surprise, he didn’t push you off. “You’re really pushing your luck tonight.”
You grinned up at him, batting your lashes. “What can I say? I like taking my chances.”
“Just watch the movie,” he muttered, sounding annoyed but not making a move to push you away.
With a satisfied smile, you snuggled a little closer, content with your minor victory.
After the movie, everyone stretched and yawned. Sungchan and Sohee were already debating what to watch next, while Jill and Lea were dramatically complaining about the lackluster conclusion to the movie. You continued the night with laughter and conversations over light drinks. It was a school day, so no one was entertaining the idea of getting drunk.
You glanced at Anton, who had stayed quiet throughout the night, except for a few quips here and there. You often flirted with him in between conversations, but as usual, he couldn’t even be bothered.
When the group started to pack up, you took a deep breath and turned to him. “Hey, do you wanna walk back to the dorms together?” you asked, keeping your tone light and hopeful.
You were the only ones going back to the dorms, since the rest of your friends lived off-campus, and Sungchan was obviously staying over at Mina’s.
Anton stood up, gathering his things without making eye contact. “No, thanks,” he said simply, pulling his jacket over his shoulder.
Your heart sank a little, but you didn’t want to let it show. “That’s fine, heh,” you said quickly, trying to brush it off with a casual laugh. “Didn’t think you’d say yes anyway.”
He paused for a moment, adjusting his jacket before looking at you with a slight frown. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” he said, his voice firm but not unkind. “You don’t need to follow me around.”
The words stung more than you expected, even though you’d been joking about it all night. You opened your mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Instead, you just nodded, forcing a small smile. “Got it.”
Anton gave a short nod, then turned and headed for the door without a second glance. As you watched him leave, the giddiness you’d felt earlier fizzled out. You knew he wasn’t trying to be cruel, but his rejection still hurt. You’d pushed and pushed all night, and for a moment, it felt like maybe he was warming up to you. But now, it seemed like you had been wrong all along.
Mina noticed your somber expression and walked over. “You okay?”
You plastered on a smile, shrugging nonchalantly. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll head back now. See you guys tomorrow?”
Your farewell was noisy, with your girls dramatically begging you to stay. There was a big smile on your lips when you exited the door, but as you headed back to your dorm, thoughts of Anton’s words stayed with you.
Maybe this little game of flirting wasn’t as fun for him as it was for you. Maybe you were pushing too hard. It had been fun for the most part, a lighthearted chase that kept your heart racing, but now it was starting to feel tiring—draining, even.
Your brows furrowed in frustration. “I should stop…” you muttered under your breath, kicking at a stray pebble in your path. Then, with a small pout, you crossed your arms tightly over your chest. “Men ain’t shit,” you grumbled, though the bitterness in your voice didn’t quite match the half-hearted way you said it.
“Now, now, sweetheart,” said a greasy, slurred voice from behind you, giving you goosebumps all over. “You don’t really mean that, do you?”
How deeply distracted were you that you didn’t notice the dragged-out footsteps behind you?
You tried to brush it off, pretend you didn’t hear anything. When his steps drew closer and he called out again, you got ready to run. But he’d grabbed your arm before you could make a run for it.
Not so fast, sweetheart.” His breath reeked of alcohol. “What’s a pretty girl doing out here alone?”
You shot him a sharp glance, trying to ignore the knot tightening in your stomach. “Sir, please get your hands off of me,” you said, trying to swat his hand away but he tightened his grip.
“I’m not so bad, am I? C’mon. I could use a little company,” he slurred and every nerve in your body screamed danger.
“Let go!” you snapped, your voice rising in panic. You stumbled back, but his grip was strong, steering you toward the wall behind you. Your back hit the concrete, the coldness of it running up your spine. His fingers dug into your shoulders, breath sour with alcohol as he leaned closer.
“Don’t be scared, sweetheart,” he slurred. “I just wanna talk.”
Your pulse hammered in your ears. You glanced around at the empty street, and the dim lamplights. Panic crawled up your throat when you realized the danger you were in.
“Hey!” The shout cut through the air. You snapped your head toward the sound and almost cried when you saw Anton sprinting toward you.
The drunk man froze, his head whipping in the same direction. That single second of hesitation was all you needed. You drove your knee up hard—right where it hurt.
He doubled over with a strangled groan, clutching himself. Anton skidded to a stop in front of you, wincing at the sight.
“Damn,” he blurted, still grimacing. “That looked like it hurt.”
“Anton…” you breathed, heart hammering in your chest.
He grabbed your hand, his grip firm but reassuring. “Let’s go,” he said, his voice calm but laced with urgency. “Before he gets back up. Come on.”
You ran, pajamas flapping awkwardly as you bolted down the street. Getting harassed in oversized Pucca pajamas—really? The ridiculousness of the situation would’ve made you laugh if you weren’t so shaken.
Your heart pounded as you rounded the corner, Anton’s grip tightening around yours until you were safely back inside the campus gates.
When you finally slowed down, panting, you glanced at him. “Oh my god!”
Anton looked at you, still catching his breath. “I know.”
The simple acknowledgment sent a strange warmth through you. You both stood there for a moment, the adrenaline fading. You were still catching your breath, trying to process everything that had just happened.
“Thank you,” you breathed out. “You really saved me back there.”
“I didn’t. It was all you. That guy’s family jewels are done for,” he quipped, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“Is that a joke?” you teased, pointing at his lips. “Are you laughing at your own joke?”
He looked at you, his expression shifting back to its usual deadpan. “I didn’t laugh. Be more careful next time. Don’t just walk by yourself, especially at night.” His voice was almost scolding, but there was an unmistakable note of concern in it.
You blinked up at him, feeling your heart flutter in a way that had nothing to do with the scare you just had. “You know, I could guilt-trip you right now and say you should have said yes when I asked to walk back together.”
You expected him to sigh and ignore your teasing, like he usually would. But he didn’t. Instead, he quietly took off his jacket, draped it over your shoulders, and zipped it up for you.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d be walking alone when I refused,” he said, sincerely, like he really meant it.
For a while, you couldn’t move, or talk, or even think coherently. Your brain was short-circuiting at the warmth and the smell of his jacket that engulfed your smaller frame.
“I didn’t know your other friends weren’t staying in the dorms,” he added, but you couldn’t hear him over the sound of your heartbeat in your ears.
Anton noticed your dazed stare, his brows furrowing before he sighed, clearly not amused by whatever was going through your head. Without a word, he tugged the hoodie over your head, covering your face.
“Go back to your room,” he muttered, exasperated. “And stop being weird.”
You pulled the hood back, grinning, but he was already walking away.
“Hey! Wait for me! What if he comes back?” you called, jogging after him.
This wasn’t part of the plan. You were doing just fine on the sidelines of college life, navigating the highs and lows of being a student. You were content not drawing attention to yourself in places that didn’t need your presence, happily enjoying the fun college functions from a distance.
Why did you have to join the student council on a whim?
“I’m so sick of this,” you muttered, hauling a large box of banners back into the storage room. Someone else could do it if only there were other hands available to help. Frustrated, you kicked the box, only to recoil in pain when it slammed against your foot. “Ouch!”
“Move,” came a familiar voice. Anton brushed past you, easily lifting the box like it weighed nothing. You followed him inside, a grin creeping onto your face.
“Thank you,” you said, genuine gratitude lighting up your tone.
“Next time, ask for help if you can’t handle it,” he replied with a side-eye.
“There was no one around!” you protested.
“You didn’t ask me.”
“You were busy!”
“Then you should’ve waited until I wasn’t.”
“Why are you mad? It’s not even your job!” you replied, pouting. Anton sighed and walked off. You hurried after him, your shorter strides barely keeping up. When he stopped suddenly, you almost bumped into him. He turned, eyes scanning you with that unreadable expression that always made your chest feel weirdly tight.
“Are you checking me out?” you quipped, knowing how he’d react—a scoff and a side-eye.
Anton scoffed. “Are you heading back to the dorm now?” he asked, and you nodded. “Wait here,” he said before climbing up the sound box to fetch his backpack. When he came back down, he pulled out a jacket and handed it to you.
“Oh, I’m good. I have one in my bag,” you said, shaking your hands.
“Forget it, then.”
“No, wait—I’ll take it!” you said quickly, snatching it before he could put it away. “Mine’s not warm enough. Thanks.”
He rolled his eyes. “Go get your stuff. We’re leaving.”
You blinked. “Together?”
“We’re going the same way anyway,” he muttered. “Can’t have you getting in trouble again.”
“We’re on the campus, I don’t think anyone would try something like that here.”
He turned his back. “If you don’t want to, just say so.”
You smiled, not even trying to hide how giddy that made you feel. “I didn’t say that.”
After what happened the other day, Anton seemed to be warming up to you for real now. Maybe he was just guilty, but at this point, it didn’t matter. You’d spontaneously combust before you pass up on the chance to spend time with him.
You rushed to grab your bag and waved goodbye to your friends before jogging back. Anton was still waiting, looking like he was second-guessing the whole thing.
“Let me just remind you that this was your idea,” you said, laughing as you caught up and laced your fingers with his. He didn’t pull away. “So stop looking at me like I forced you into this.”
He exhaled sharply, looking annoyed though his words suggested otherwise. “Put the jacket on. It’s cold.”
“Oooh, Anton Lee,” you teased, leaning closer. “Trying to get promoted to green flag?”
“I’m not a red flag,” he said monotonously.
“When did I say you were?”
“You kept implying it.”
You chuckled. “You know, they say people who insist they’re not red flags usually are.”
“Just wear the jacket,” he said flatly. “I don’t want to be responsible for your hypothermia.”
You stepped back to slip it on, unlinking your hand from his—only for Anton to catch it again. You blinked, caught off guard.
“Well, damn,” you teased. “Didn’t think you liked me that much. But I kinda need both hands to do this.”
He froze, then released you like he’d touched something hot. That made you grimace.
“Okay, offensive. Do you hate it that much?” you said with a laugh as you zipped up the jacket. “And no one’s getting hypothermia in this weather. It’s not that cold.”
He sighed. “Can we walk quietly and pretend we don’t know each other?”
“Nope,” you said, looping your arm through his. “Impossible. We totally look like a couple right now.”
“We don’t.”
“Yes, we do,” you sang, resting your head against his arm. The two of you walked under the soft glow of the pathway lights, Anton not pulling away from you, and you just basking in the moment.
The school festival was coming up, and you got to work with Anton for the preparations—you as part of the student council, and him with the IT Club. Your tasks didn’t really overlap, but you were content just being in the same space as him.
While Anton worked with a clubmate on the sound system, you were assigned to decorations and logistics. You organized tables, hung streamers, and made sure everything was in its place—all while stealing glances at Anton and his team. Even if your work kept you on opposite sides of the field, you still made a point to stroll by his area now and then, smiling whenever your eyes met. Anton would only nod to acknowledge you, but each exchange was a little jolt of happiness for you.
During a break, you found yourself near the sound booth, leaning against the wall to catch your breath. Anton was just adjusting a microphone, but in your lovestruck eyes, he looked effortlessly cool, his concentration only making him more attractive.
“Don’t just stand there. You’re making me nervous,” he said when he caught you staring.
“Do I? They say being around someone you like makes you nervous,” you shot back with a grin.
“They lied,” he deadpanned, shaking his head. “Don’t break anything.”
“Guess the only thing I’ll be breaking is your heart when I leave,” you said dramatically after hearing someone call your name across the field. “Sorry, Anton. Duty calls. Try not to miss me too much.”
Anton rolled his eyes. “Just go. Don’t come back.”
“Please. You’d notice the second I was gone,” you teased, walking away without looking back.
On the day of the festival, music drifted from the courtyard where the marching band played, and the air smelled faintly of grilled food and sugar. You stood with your friends beneath the banner that read Welcome to the 00 University Festival!, cheering as the president wrapped up his speech about the academy, community, and creativity.
“Let the festivities begin!” he declared, and the crowd broke into cheers.
From there, the day unfolded in color and sound. You tried your luck at balloon darts, lost embarrassingly fast at the ring toss, and nearly tripped through the inflatable obstacle course.
Between rounds, you made your way to the sound booth, where Anton and Wonbin were fine-tuning equipment for the performances.
“Snacks for the hardest-working people on campus,” you announced, holding up a paper bag of food and drinks.
“Thanks a lot!” Wonbin said with a grin, immediately fishing out a snack. “You’re a lifesaver.”
Anton just nodded, his eyes still on the soundboard. “Appreciate it,” he said, taking a sip from the drink you handed him.
“You guys are killing it,” you said. “Can’t wait for the party tonight.”
Wonbin chuckled. “We’ll make sure it’s a good one. You coming to dance?”
“Obviously,” you said, flashing him finger guns. “Wouldn’t miss DJ Wonbin’s big night.”
He laughed, then gave Anton a playful nudge. “Your girl knows how to flatter.”
Anton’s forehead creased as he glanced at you. “She’s not my girl.”
“She’s not?” Wonbin asked, genuinely surprised.
“Not yet,” you cut in, winking at Anton before heading back into the crowd.
The hours slipped by in a whirl of noise and sunlight. You checked in on them now and then—sometimes with more food, sometimes just to say hi. Every time, Anton looked the same: focused, calm, the corner of his mouth twitching whenever you teased him.
“Want a break?” you asked during one of your visits. “You’ve been standing here all day.”
“I’m fine,” he said without looking up. “Just want to make sure nothing crashes before the main event.”
You pulled a waffle from the paper bag and held it out. “At least eat this. A not-so-little bird once told me you forget to eat when you’re in the zone. It was Sungchan.”
He chuckled as he accepted the stick. “Thanks.”
He smiled, and—ugh—you could feel yourself swooning again. “Don’t get me wrong, I like the mysterious, unapproachable vibe you have going on. But you look sooo much more charming when you’re smiling like this.”
As if on cue, Anton’s face reverted to its usual deadpan, which only made you laugh harder. “Default mode’s fine too,” you said between giggles.
He shook his head, but you caught the corner of his mouth twitch again before he turned back to the console.
“Fine,” you said, stepping away with a grin. “I’ll stop distracting you now.”
“Thank you, that would be lovely,” he said monotonously, eyes on the monitors.
You left the booth still smiling, the music from the speakers chasing you across the field. The sun was already setting, painting everything in that golden pre-evening light. Stalls glowed under their fairy lights, the air smelled of butter and smoke, and laughter echoed from every direction.
You met up with your friends again, joining them in games and food, but your gaze kept drifting back to the sound booth. By the time the performances started, the sky had deepened into deep blue. Wonbin’s voice boomed through the mic as he hyped up the crowd, and Anton sat behind him, barely visible save for the top of his head.
The festival carried on around you until the last performance ended and the lights dimmed one by one. By then, the energy had mellowed and the crowd had thinned out significantly.
Students began gathering leftover props and decorations. “I can’t believe how well everything turned out,” you muttered, tossing a pile of streamers into a trash bag.
Wonbin, stacking equipment nearby, glanced your way. “Yeah, it was a success. Thanks for all your help today.”
“Of course! It was so much fun being a part of it,” you replied with a smile. Across the field, you caught sight of Anton winding up cables. Even now, with the day done, he still looked fresh and handsome in the night light. The sight of him made you smile wider.
The student council president clapped his hands, calling everyone’s attention. “That’s a wrap, people. And before we call it a night, I am delighted to announce that we will be going on a weekend escapade after this. A little break for an entire week of working and pulling off such a wonderful festival this year.”
Cheers rose from the group, and your heart skipped at the thought of spending more time with everyone—especially with Anton. This time, not for duties and work, but for fun!
“Glad to see everyone’s up for it!” the president said, smiling. “For now, let’s pack up what we can tonight, make sure nothing gets left behind, and then we’ll head to the after-party.”
You worked alongside the others, packing what needed to be stored away. The rest, thankfully, would be handled by the university staff in the morning. When everything was finally in order, people started drifting off—some heading back to their dorms, others already on their way to the off-campus after-party.
It was a big shift from the organized funfest of the festival to a freer, more unfiltered mayhem. The living room was packed with students, and the atmosphere smelled of alcohol, vape, and perfumes mixed with the faintest hint of sweat. Colorful lights danced across the walls and over the swaying crowd.
“Let’s grab some drinks!” Mina yelled over the music, dragging the group toward the makeshift bar. You followed, adrenaline kicking in as you poured whatever mix of alcohol and soda the jocks had concocted.
Cup in hand, you scanned the room until your gaze landed on Anton. He was standing in a corner, one hand in his pocket, a drink in the other, watching the chaos with an amused expression. The strobe lights caught in his hair, and even in a plain white t-shirt, he somehow stood out.
Without thinking, you weaved through the crowd. “Wow, you’re here,” you said, genuinely surprised to see him.
“Not willingly,” he said, raising his cup in greeting.
“Wanna join the madness?” you asked, gesturing toward the dance floor, where a large group of students swayed, lost in the music and alcohol. Mina and Sungchan were there too, hands on each other like no one else was in the room.
“Pass,” he said, not even giving it a thought.
“Knew you’d say that,” you mumbled, grinning into your cup.
Across the room, Mina waved at you, and you lifted your drink in return. “They look so in love, it’s annoying,” you said, though your smile was soft, not bitter.
Anton followed your gaze, his expression unreadable. “Doesn’t look like love to me.”
You turned to him, surprised. “What? You can’t see it? They can’t even keep their hands off each other.”
He shrugged. “Could be the alcohol. You don’t need love for that.”
You studied him. There was no judgment in his voice but you could tell that he was a cynic. “You don’t believe in love, do you?”
“Love’s overrated,” he said simply, taking a slow sip.
You just nodded, acknowledging his admittance and respecting his opinions. “Are you sure you should be drinking? You can’t handle your liquor.”
He tilted his cup toward you. “This is soda. I’m not drinking. Can’t afford to make dumb mistakes.”
You caught the edge in his tone. “Like calling some stranger gorgeous and confessing your love for them?” you said, half teasing, half testing the waters.
“Exactly that.”
You felt a pang in your chest. Whether it was because he called your first meeting a ‘mistake’ or not, you’re not really sure. But it totally killed the vibe.
“Well, good luck with that.” You tapped your cup against his. “Enjoy the party.”
You turned to leave, but his hand caught yours, fingers curling just enough to stop you. The contact was light, but you could feel his hesitation when he released your hand.
“Where are you running off to?” he asked, clearing his throat and looking away.
You let out a short laugh. “I’m gonna go have some real fun. Dancing, drinking, maybe some games because I’m quite good at them,” you smiled, motioning to the party around you. “It’s a party after all.”
He nodded, and under the flash of blue and red and green lights, you couldn’t quite tell what expression he was wearing when he said, “Have fun, then.”
“I will,” you said with a smile, before melting back into the crowd.
You didn’t see him for the rest of the night, and you didn’t try looking. You just let the music take over, losing yourself in the blur of laughter and lights, and trying not to think about how disappointing it felt that he’d called your first meeting a mistake.
Early Saturday morning, you gathered at the school plaza with other members of the festival working group. You were set to leave at 9 am, and despite the hangover you somehow made it on time—not without a splitting headache that the others seemed to share.
“Alright?” asked Anton, appearing beside you with a scowl when he noticed you pressing your fingers to your temples.
“Oh, hi,” you greeted, forcing a grin before wincing. “Ugh. My head is killing me.”
“And whose fault is that?” he said with a smirk.
Before you could come up with something clever, Wonbin appeared, holding a small plastic bag with a packet of medicine in it. “Here,” he said, offering one to you. “It’ll help with the hangover.”
You groaned dramatically. “Thanks a lot, Wonbin. You’re a literal angel.”
The tips of his ears turned red. “That’s—uh—it’s not much.”
“No, really. You’re glowing. Your beauty is blinding,” you said, squinting up at him as if to shield your eyes. “A literal angel,” you added, making Wonbin laugh bashfully.
Anton scoffed. “Take the medicine before you pass out.”
“Oh, right.” You popped a pill into your mouth, then struggled to twist the cap off the water bottle. Just as Wonbin reached out to help, Anton grabbed it from your hand and opened it with an easy twist.
“Thanks,” you said, raising the bottle in salute before turning back to Wonbin. “And thank you, my angel.”
Soon, the rest of the group arrived, ready for the trip. Since the university didn’t sponsor the outing, everyone had chipped in for expenses and carpooled in whoever’s car had room.
Without giving it much thought, you headed straight to Anton’s car, making yourself comfortable in the shotgun like you belonged there.
He didn’t seem to mind, though he did glance your way. “I thought you were riding with Wonbin.”
“Oh, we’re not that close. And he didn’t invite me,” you said, buckling your seatbelt. “Besides, I’d rather ride you.”
The words left your mouth before you could stop them. His hand froze mid-air, and silence filled the car, you could swear you could hear crickets in your own head.
“With you!” you blurted, mortified. “I meant—I’d rather ride with you.”
Anton blinked, then nodded coolly. “Yeah. I know.”
You laughed awkwardly and turned toward the window, silently begging for the ground to swallow you whole. When the other cars began pulling out of the parking lot, you noticed Anton still hadn’t started his engine.
“Are we waiting for someone?” you asked.
“There he is,” he said, nodding toward Sohee jogging toward the car with a backpack.
Sohee jumped into the backseat, slightly out of breath. “Wow. Thanks for not leaving me behind.”
“I almost did,” Anton muttered, finally starting the engine.
You sank a little in your seat, grateful for the distraction—and even more grateful you didn’t have to say another word.
The car ride was filled with laughter as Sohee took charge of the music, blasting upbeat tracks that made it impossible not to move. He sang along, his voice rising above the catchy beats, and every now and then, he added exaggerated dance moves from the passenger seat, making you and Anton laugh.
“The festival was epic,” Sohee said after a while. “But you know what would’ve made it more legendary? A water balloon launcher. Next year, I’m bringing one.”
Anton rolled his eyes but smiled faintly. “You’d just end up hitting someone with that.”
“So what? As long as you make memories, right?”
You laughed and reached for the iced coffee in the cup holder, holding it out for Anton as he drove. He took a sip without hesitation, not even a glance at your direction as he was focused on the road.
Sohee’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god. Why don’t you two just kiss in front of me, then?”
Anton’s brows furrowed. “Why would we do that?”
“Right?” you blurted, snorting as you turned to Sohee. “Didn’t know you were kinky like that, Sohee,” you teased, narrowing your eyes playfully at him.
Sohee groaned. “You know that’s not what I meant!”
“Well, you’re being dirty,” you said, turning back to Anton. “I was just being nice. Driving is no easy task.”
“Right, just being nice,” Sohee mocked. “When did he stop complaining about you invading his space?”
“Oh, he’s never complained about that,” you said easily.
Sohee gasped dramatically, hand flying over his mouth. “Ever?” he asked, eyes wide.
“Not that I remember,” you said, peering at him in the backseat. “And I remember every single interaction we had,” you added proudly.
“But he doesn’t like it when people are in his space,” said Sohee, pointing at Anton with a surprised expression. “He hates it.”
You glanced at Anton, but he didn’t take his eyes off the road. “Enough, dude. You’re gonna make her think I’m enjoying this.”
Sohee grinned. “Aren’t you? I mean, who wouldn’t want a hot girl following him around, handing him drinks?”
Anton snickered. “What hot girl are you even talking about?”
You gasped, but before you could say anything, Sohee exclaimed, “Dude, are you blind? She’s right there! 1-800-hot-n-fun.”
That made you laugh, just as Sohee leaned between your seats, finger gun pressed to your temple. “Excuse me, ma’am. You’re under arrest for being ten out of ten and too hot to handle.”
You both burst out laughing, and even Anton’s lips curved into a reluctant smile. “Settle down before I kick you two out,” he chided.
Sohee leaned back with a grin, sighing. “Is it weird that I’m more invested in your relationship than you are?”
You pointed at him. “Shut up. No one’s more invested in our relationship than I am.”
As the miles rolled by, the countryside unfolded around you, with fields of wildflowers swaying in the breeze. At some point, you had to stop at a gasoline station because Sohee needed to use the restroom.
“How about you?” Anton asked, just as Sohee had left the car.
You shook your head. “I’m good,” you replied, glancing at him. He was scrolling through his phone and only hummed at your response.
You watched him for a moment—handsome, as always, with that charisma that seemed to come so naturally to him. You didn’t mean to stare, but your gaze lingered on his mouth longer than it should have. There was that faint, almost-smile he always had—like he was always on the verge of actually letting it show. It made you wonder what it’d take to coax a real one out of him.
But more importantly, you wondered if his lips were as soft as they appear to be.
“You know,” you said, voice light but teasing, “you have really pretty lips.”
Anton paused, glancing at you and blinking like he wasn’t sure he heard you right. His eyes flicked to your mouth, then back to his phone, brushing you off as usual. “Thanks.”
“Can you tie a cherry stem into a knot with your tongue?” you asked, leaning a little closer with an innocent smile on your lips.
You knew exactly what you were doing—the teasing tone, the loaded question. It was playful, sultry, but in a way that you could brush off if he didn’t bite. You fully expected his usual indifferent response.
Then again, there was the possibility that maybe he’d pick up your hints this time, and maybe he’d do something about the tension that was building up between you right at this moment. Maybe—
“I don’t think anyone can,” he answered flatly, brows furrowed like he genuinely and seriously thought about the question.
You threw your hands up dramatically. “Oh my god. What was I expecting?” you scoffed, shaking your head and looking away.
Anton remained quiet, so you glanced back at him. His jaw was clenched tightly, and somehow it felt as though you’d said something you shouldn’t have.
You swallowed, unsure whether to laugh it off or hold your breath. “What?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned toward you. Before you could process what was happening, his hand was already cupping the back of your head, and then his lips were on yours.
You were momentarily stunned, grappling with the sensation of his lips pressing against yours and the racing thoughts in your head. His fingers tightened slightly, tilting your head at just the right angle to kiss you deeper. It was firm, yet slow, like he’d been thinking about it for much longer than you’d realized. You closed your eyes as you melted into him, kissing him back and feeling the warmth spread through your chest. Your heart raced in its cage—so wildly that you swore Anton could feel it echoing in his own.
When he pulled back, he was wearing a rare smirk on his lips and a triumphant glint in his eyes.
“So?” He asked, voice low like he meant for only you to hear it. “Can I?”
It took you a second to catch up. “Huh?”
Anton’s lips curved into a full smirk this time. “Can I tie a cherry stem into a knot with my tongue?”
You blinked at him, speechless—then let out a helpless laugh. “Y-yeah,” you stammered, flustered and still catching your breath. “Absolutely. You’re amazing. Basically a pro. Heh.”
You were still reeling—trying and failing to act normal—when Sohee climbed back into the car, completely oblivious to what had just happened. He noticed something, though, because his eyes darted between you and Anton suspiciously.
“What?” you asked, forcing a casual tone that probably wasn’t fooling anyone.
He shrugged slowly. “I feel like I’m missing something.”
“Again with your nonsense,” Anton replied, casually driving away after dismissing Sohee’s suspicion like it was nothing.
Sohee didn’t press, and it was only you who could see the smirk on Anton’s lips, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. It was infuriating, but also oddly disarming. You could still feel the press of his lips on yours, and it took everything in you not to touch your mouth, just to check if it had really happened.
You arrived at the villa, its stone walls glowing warmly under the afternoon sun, half-hidden behind tall trees. There was a welcoming warmth to it, and you hoped it was as comfortable as it looked.
“Wow, this place is massive,” Sohee commented dramatically as he stepped out of the car, looking up at the villa as if it were a five-star resort.
A girl with long hair and a bright smile appeared on the porch. “Hey, guys! You made it!” she called, waving.
“Claire?” Sohee blurted, surprised.
“Sohee!” she exclaimed, running to Sohee for a quick hug.
You caught Anton stiffen beside you, his expression shifting so subtly that you might’ve missed it if you weren’t already watching him.
“What are you doing here?” Sohee asked, pulling away.
Before she could answer, the student council president emerged. “You’ve arrived! Perfect. Have you met Claire?” he said, smiling. “She’s been kind enough to offer her family’s villa for the weekend.”
“Oh, I know these guys. We go way back,” Claire said, gesturing between Sohee and Anton.
When she turned to you, her smile widened. “Hi! You are…?”
You shook her hand, matching her brightness as best as you could. You told her your name. “Nice to meet you.”
“Come on in! Everyone’s waiting.”
As the president led you inside, you caught Claire looping her arm through Anton’s. He didn’t pull away. Something sharp twisted in your chest before you could stop it. Jealousy, it seems.
You glanced at them again—Claire laughing softly, Anton saying nothing, his face unreadable.
The first order of business in the villa was rest, and then dinner. You hadn’t planned on helping out in the kitchen, but when you noticed only a few had volunteered, you reluctantly joined in. A mistake, you realized. From where you stood, you had a clear view of the living room where Anton sat with Claire and a few other people. She looked far too comfortable beside him, her laughter ringing out over the murmur of conversations. Your chest tightened at the sight.
It’s fine. He’s allowed to have a past, you told yourself, slicing the watermelon a little too forcefully. But did she have to sit that close? Exes shouldn’t be that friendly. And did she have to appear now—right after he and I finally—
“Hey, focus!” Wonbin’s voice cut through your thoughts. “You’re gonna cut yourself.”
You blinked down at the board, realizing you’d nearly nicked your finger. “Oh, shit.”
“Why are you so distracted?” Wonbin teased, tossing a look toward the living room before grinning. “Relax. He’s yours. I’m sure of it.”
You let out a dry laugh. “Not with his ex clinging to him like that.”
“I don’t know… he’s heading this way,” Wonbin said, smirking. “So I think I’m right.”
Before you could respond, Anton appeared beside you. The kitchen suddenly felt smaller. “What are you doing?” he asked, eyes on your half-cut watermelon. He gently nudged you aside, his arm brushing yours as he took the knife from your hand.
“What do you think?” you said, pouting as you stepped aside but stayed close.
He sliced the fruit with ease. “I think you’re trying to get my attention. Getting hurt and all,” he replied, making your jaw drop. He laughed at your expression. “Aren’t you?”
“I wasn’t hurt,” you told him, rolling your eyes although your heart was fluttering at the sight of his smile. “And even if I did want your attention, I don’t need to hurt myself to get it.”
Anton nodded slightly. “You’re right. You don’t need to. That’s one of your many talents.”
You grabbed a paring knife, pretending to focus on the pears. “Sohee told me Claire was your ex.”
“She is,” he said simply. “Freshman year.”
You stopped the urge to roll your eyes, raising a brow instead. “So you did believe in love.”
“Just because I had girlfriends before doesn’t mean I believe in love.”
“What nonsense,” you scoffed. “You know, people who claim they don’t believe in love are usually the worst hopeless romantics.”
“Whoever said that was lying,” he said, cutting another piece and slipping it between your lips, his fingers brushing your mouth lightly.
You chewed slowly, feeling a blush creep up your neck. Anton’s gaze lingered on your lips. Normally, you’d make fun of him for it, but after what happened in the car, you couldn’t bring yourself to tease him.
He cleared his throat, looking away and resuming his task. You glanced around, suddenly self-conscious, and grabbed a slice of watermelon just to do something with your hands.
“It’s very sweet. Try it,” you said, offering the slice to him.
Without looking, Anton leaned sideways to you and took a bite of the fruit. You instantly regretted that because now you were the one staring at his lips, recalling the vivid imagery of earlier’s kiss.
“Anton!” a voice called out from the living room, snapping you out of your imaginations. It was Claire and she didn’t have anything to say, just waving at Anton with a smile.
You glanced at Anton, who didn’t even bother to show a reaction, let alone respond. “Does it bother you that she’s here?” you asked, your voice softer now, more curious than playful.
He paused, his gaze finally meeting yours. “No, it doesn’t bother me.”
“So you’re unbothered?”
“I’m unbothered.”
You tilted your head, eyes narrowing in mock suspicion. “You know, people who say they’re unbothered tend to be... well, very bothered.”
Anton let out a small, resigned laugh, finally setting the knife down. His gaze softened as he turned to face you fully. “Again with your odd wisdom.” He raised an eyebrow, his tone teasing but warm. “What’s next? People who claim to have allergies aren’t actually allergic?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,” you shot back, laughing. “Allergies are backed by science. But being bothered when you’re in the same room as your ex? That’s a little harder to prove. Just like not believing in love.”
“You’re too smart for your own good,” he said, flicking your forehead, which made you grimace.
“Alright, no flirting in the kitchen,” said one of your friends, nudging you aside as she passed by carrying a steaming pot. “You two bring these to the patio.”
After the preparations, you moved to the backyard just as the evening settled into a cool, dusky warmth. The smell of barbecue was permeating in the air, rich and smoky. The large grill crackled and popped as steaks, skewers, and vegetables sizzled under Sohee’s watchful—albeit playful—eye.
You sat at one of the long picnic tables on the patio, nursing a cold drink and watching the light from the grill flicker across the faces of your friends. Anton sat beside you, quietly observing the scene while Claire—who had rejoined the group—chatted animatedly with some others across the table. You were trying not to feel too aware of her presence, but it was impossible not to glance her way now and then.
“Hey, are you going to give me a hand, or are you just going to sit there looking cute?” Sohee called to you with a playful wink.
You snorted, setting your drink down and getting up. “You know, you can’t use that line for everything.”
Sohee shook his head, grinning widely. “It’s not a line. You just happen to look cute all the time. Now, get over here and help me with the skewers.”
Anton chuckled beside you, and you gave him a teasing glance as you headed toward the grill. “How about helping him in my stead?”
“I’ll pass,” Anton replied, grinning.
You pouted, feigning a tantrum as you walked away. Sohee handed you a plate of marinated vegetables to arrange into skewers. “So, how’s it going over there with Mr. Grumpy Sunshine?” Sohee asked in a low voice, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively as he leaned closer.
You raised an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean?”
Sohee nudged you with his elbow. “Oh, no, don’t play dumb with me, woman. I saw how you and Anton were looking at each other earlier. You’re practically making out with your eyes.”
You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips. “Okay, you win. You are more invested in our relationship than I am.”
Sohee chuckled. “I’ve known the guy for ages. He’s not usually this present. Normally, he’s off in his own world, but now, it’s like he actually pays attention when you’re around.”
“Liar. He doesn’t even look at me if he can help it.”
“True, but that was before, no?” he said, giving you a knowing grin. “You two have gotten closer lately.”
You opened your mouth to respond, but were interrupted when Anton appeared at your side, casually grabbing one of the skewers you had just finished assembling. “Hey!” you exclaimed, laughing. “You’re supposed to cook them first.”
Anton raised an eyebrow, popping a piece of bell pepper into his mouth. “It’s good raw.”
Sohee gasped dramatically. “It’s what?”
Anton flicked his forehead, hard. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”
You winced at the reddened spot on Sohee’s forehead, but the latter was just grinning at you and wiggling his eyebrows knowingly. You playfully swatted his arm with the back of your hand.
“So dirty-minded, go away,” you scolded, though you were grinning.
Anton smiled softly, and for a moment, the noise of the group around you faded. His gaze held yours, and you felt that familiar warmth spread through your chest again.
Sohee cleared his throat loudly, breaking the moment. “Okay, lovebirds, enough with the eyes! We’ve got mouths to feed.”
Soon, the platters piled high with grilled meats, skewers, and sides. The plates clinked as people passed around dishes, and conversations overlapped in the comfortable atmosphere of friends enjoying a good meal.
You found a spot next to Anton again, your plate full, though you were more focused on the way his knee brushed against yours under the table. Each little touch felt like a secret between the two of you, unnoticed by everyone else.
Prez pointed his fork at you and Anton, grinning. “You two are awfully close for two people who aren’t dating.”
You froze mid-bite, nearly choking as the table turned its attention toward you. Anton calmly sipped his drink, completely unfazed. “We’re just eating, Prez,” he said, but his hand landing gently on your thigh under the table contradicted his statement.
“Yeah, and sitting suspiciously close while doing it,” Sohee quipped, wiggling his eyebrows. You gave him a look that said, ‘You’re dead when I catch you.’
Thankfully, the subject shifted to talks about K-pop groups who performed in this year’s festival and the previous years, too. The evening carried on, full of laughter, good food, drunk anecdotes, and the soft glow of lanterns that lit up the patio as night fell.
You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this light, this content, as the warmth of the barbecue wrapped around you like a comfortable blanket, and the buzz of alcohol numbed the cold air hitting your skin.
“You alright?” Anton asked, placing a hand over your back while you were resting your head on the table.
Everyone had gone back inside, save for a few others who continued their drinking by the poolside. You and Anton were the only ones left at the table, mainly because you were too tired to move and he didn’t want to leave you there in case you fell asleep.
You sat up and stared at him. “My god, you’re so handsome. I could kiss you.”
Anton chuckled. “I think you’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk. I never get drunk!” you snorted, staring at your index finger. “Actually, I do, sometimes… Anyway!” You took a deep breath and tucked your hair behind your ears. “Truth is, I think about kissing you even when I’m not drunk.”
“You do?” he asked, amused.
You stood up and stepped closer to him. He remained in his seat, looking up at you with soft eyes. You wobbled a bit, but Anton caught your arms firmly, keeping you steady. You held his face with your hands, squeezing his cheeks slightly. “Don’t dodge this, okay?”
“So, what happened?” Wonbin asked the very next morning after you told him about last night.
You exhaled through your nose, pouting. “Knowing him, he probably dodged it. I don’t know. I think I passed out before I could kiss him.”
Wonbin laughed, head lolling back and one hand hitting the steering wheel in great amusement. You shot him a glare and said, “Oh, so you think that’s funny, do you?”
He stopped, cleared his throat and muttered, “Sorry.” He fixed his eyes on the road, but he couldn’t hide his grin. “I shouldn’t judge other people’s drinking habits.”
You scowled, turning to the road ahead as you crossed your arms over your chest. “Remind me why I’m riding with you right now?”
“Because Anton and Sohee already left for the hike,” he replied, and that just made you scowl harder.
“Right,” you muttered. “Now I’m sure I made a fool of myself last night, because why would Anton leave without me?”
Prez had a hike planned for the day. This town was known for its clear river winding through the mountain, so everyone agreed to go when the subject was brought up last night. You were woken by Wonbin’s knocks on your door that morning, half-asleep and battling a splitting headache. Long story short, now you’re on your way to the hike with him.
By the time you reached the foot of the mountain, the others were already gathered for the guide’s briefing. Your eyes automatically searched for Anton and found him near the front beside Sohee and Claire. They looked like they’d been there for a while.
The guide called for attention, and as the group responded, Anton turned, scanning the crowd. His gaze stopped when it found yours. There was a flicker of surprise on his face, then recognition. He patted Sohee on the back, saying something to him before jogging toward you.
“There you are,” he said with a small smile. “I heard you weren’t coming.”
“From whom?” you asked.
“Claire said she heard you mention skipping out. I figured you’d want to sleep in after last night.”
You pouted. “And you didn’t think to check with me?”
Anton shrugged. “Didn’t want to wake you. You seemed… pretty drunk last night.”
Heat rushed to your face as flashes of last night came back—your attempt to kiss him among them. The annoyance you were feeling suddenly dissipated. You groaned quietly, hiding your face with one hand.
“Are you embarrassed?” he asked, chuckling lightly as he ducked to peek at your face. “That’s new,” he teased, pushing your hair aside.
You elbowed him lightly. “Shut up.”
He chuckled, then took your bag and slung it over his shoulder without asking. “I’ll carry it,” he said simply.
“Wow, I think you’ve fallen in love with me,” you quipped, grinning playfully at him.
“No. I just don’t wanna hear you whining about how heavy this is halfway up the trail,” he said flatly, taking his hat off and placing it on your head.
The hike started out smoothly, with the morning sun filtering through the trees. Your group moved at a comfortable pace, chattering as you climbed higher toward the mountain’s scenic river. Claire, somehow always managing to walk beside Anton, led the conversation as if the rest of you weren’t there.
“Are you alright?” Wonbin asked quietly, his voice pulling you from your thoughts. He flashed you a knowing smirk, catching the direction of your gaze.
“I’m fine. Just… taking in the view,” you replied quietly, pretending to look around.
“Bet you hate that view, huh?” Wonbin chuckled. “Save your energy. There’s still the climb up to the ridge,” he added, pointing ahead to a steeper incline.
You felt a light touch on your back—Anton’s hand, guiding you over a rock. You caught him giving Wonbin a look, which disappeared as soon as he met your gaze.
“Come on. Let’s catch up to Sohee,” he said, nudging you gently to the front.
As the group made its way up, the conversation turned to old hiking trips. Claire, of course, slipped right into it again, laughing as she talked about a time she and Anton had hiked a similar trail.
“Anton was such a show-off back then. He used to be so energetic and silly,” she said with a laugh, nudging him. “You remember that, right?”
Her voice carried a hint of nostalgia, but Anton barely reacted. He gave a polite nod, keeping his eyes on the trail ahead. “I was younger. Probably didn’t know better.”
Claire smiled at his response, but there was something about the way she looked at him, like she was waiting for him to say more. It twisted something in your chest.
“Yeah, when you’re younger, you make stupid decisions,” Sohee said loudly, flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Totally get you, man. I’ve got one or two I’d erase if I could.”
You didn’t know the details, but you caught the insinuation, and it somehow comforted you a little to know that Sohee wasn’t fond of Anton’s ex.
After another fifteen minutes of steady climbing, you reached the ridge, overlooking the crystal-clear river that sparkled in the distance. Everyone took a breath, the beauty of the view silencing the group momentarily.
Some of the group gathered for a shot, while others wandered around. You stayed back, preferring to enjoy the quiet for once. You glanced at Anton beside you, who seemed quieter than usual, lost in his thoughts. You wondered if it was Claire getting to him, or if he was just being his typical reserved self.
The hike continued around the river, with a playful challenge thrown in along the way. One of the guys dared anyone to balance on two fallen logs that stretched across a small stream.
“Come on, who’s got the best balance?” he called out, clapping his hands together. “It’s a rite of passage for this hike!”
Prez raised his hands in surrender. “I’ll pass. I like my bones unbroken.”
The guy turned to you with a teasing grin. “How about you? You look like you’ve got decent balance.”
You smirked. “Oh, I’ve got more than decent balance.”
Sohee jumped in before you could step back. “Perfect. You and me, let’s go. Loser treats everyone to ice cream later.”
“Me against you?” You scoffed, taking off your jacket and tying it around your hips. “Fine. You asked for this. Don’t cry when you lose.”
You darted forward, arms out for balance. The log wobbled beneath your feet, but you found your rhythm quickly. Sohee was on the other log next to you, his footsteps thudding against the wood as he tried to catch up.
You were almost across when you caught sight of Anton a few feet away—with Claire. She was standing close, her hand resting on his arm as she told some story. You faltered, your focus slipping for a second.
Sohee jumped off the log just a second before you, throwing his arms up dramatically.
“And that’s a win for Sohee!” one of your companions announced, loud enough for the whole forest to hear. Cheers followed, and soon everyone was chanting, “Ice cream! Ice cream!”
You jumped off a moment later, breathless, still reeling from what you saw but forcing a smile for the crowd. “Fine. Ice cream’s on me,” you declared, feigning defeat.
The group erupted into cheers again and started back up the trail. You glanced at where Anton was only to find him already making his way toward you.
“Water?” he offered, holding out a bottle. “Don’t want to have to carry you all the way back.”
You rolled your eyes, knowing he was only trying to downplay his concern for you. “Thanks.” You took the bottle, appreciating the gesture but still feeling frustrated.
“Did you really just lose to Sohee?” he asked, not mockingly, more like he genuinely couldn’t believe it. “That guy’s slow and has terrible balance.”
You scoffed just as you finished taking a sip. “Were you even watching?” you asked, unable to mask the displeasure in your tone.
Anton blinked, brows lifting slightly. “Honestly? No. I didn’t even know what was going on until everyone started cheering.”
You stared at him, incredulous. “Wow,” you said under your breath.
“What?” he asked, looking genuinely puzzled.
“Nothing.” You forced a smile that didn’t reach your eyes, capped the tumbler, and started walking ahead.
He trailed behind, still trying to make sense of your sudden mood shift. You didn’t bother explaining. Why should you? He’d been busy entertaining Claire. Clearly, that was more interesting.
The rest of the hike went by in silence—at least between the two of you. You laughed when someone cracked a joke, helped pass water bottles around, anything to look normal. But Anton never left your side and your sight, and it only made it harder to ignore the tightness in your chest.
It was right on time for lunch. Sandwiches and juice boxes were passed around, the group scattering across the grass in small clusters. Anton sat beside you, peeling open the wrapper of a sandwich and holding it out. “Here.”
You glanced at it, then at him, before shaking your head. “I’m not hungry.”
Right on cue, Sohee plopped down in front of you and held up an identical sandwich. “You want one? I grabbed extras.”
“Thanks,” you said, taking it without hesitation.
Anton didn’t say anything, but you caught the faint crease between his brows. He offered a juice box, but you ignored it. When Wonbin joined your circle and offered you a juice box, you took it, smiling as if nothing was wrong.
You bit into your sandwich, pretending not to hear the sigh Anton let out beside you.
“Good, right?” Sohee said, unwrapping his own sandwich. “We passed by this small rustic cafe on our way here. That’s where we got these from.”
“Yeah, it’s good,” you replied, smiling faintly.
Anton tapped his juice box against yours. “Wanna trade? You like the grape one, right?” he asked.
Across from you, Wonbin was eating quietly. You held out your juice box. “Would you trade with me? I got apple. Yours looks like grape.”
“Sure,” he said, swapping drinks with a smile.
That’s when Sohee frowned slightly, glancing between you and Anton. “Are you guys fighting or something?”
Wonbin smacked his chest lightly. “Dude.” He gave him a pointed look. “Read the room.” Then he grabbed Sohee by the arm and dragged him toward the others.
You kept your eyes on your sandwich, pretending to be far too engrossed in unwrapping the rest of it. Anton didn’t say anything, but you could feel his gaze on you. You didn’t want to look long enough to see what expression he was wearing.
At some point after lunch, while everyone was lounging around or taking pictures of nature, Sohee managed to talk you into looking for wild berries. The guide mentioned there were plenty of them around, so it sounded like a harmless adventure.
You walked with Sohee, Wonbin, and a few others, but Anton decided to sit this one out, mumbling something about someone (you) not wanting him there. That was fine because it gives you time to think things through without him hovering around.
You wandered deeper into the trees with a few others. Sohee was practically bouncing from one patch of greenery to the next, exclaiming every time he found a small cluster of berries.
“Look, these are the good ones! I told you I had an eye for this!” he boasted, holding up a handful of bright red berries.
“Okay, Berry Master,” you teased, bending down to pluck a few yourself. But as you reached for another low-hanging cluster, you misjudged your footing on a slippery rock. The moss-covered surface gave way under your shoe, and before you could catch yourself, you stumbled forward, scraping your hand against a sharp branch. A sharp sting shot through your palm, and you hissed in pain, clutching your hand.
“Are you alright?” Wonbin was quick to notice, walking over to check on you.
You waved him off with a sheepish smile, trying not to make a big deal of it. “Yeah, I just slipped on a rock. It’s not that bad.”
Sohee, always the dramatic one, rushed over too. “Whoa, are you bleeding? Should we get you back? Do we need a first aid kit? A stretcher?”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “I’m fine. I just need to wash it off,” you said, inspecting the cut. It wasn’t deep, but a small trickle of blood appeared.
Wonbin offered you his handkerchief to wrap around your hand for now. “Here, it’s not good enough, but it should help until we get back.”
“Thanks,” you muttered, feeling a bit more embarrassed than hurt.
You went back to the riverbank and the sight of Anton sitting alone by the water came into view. He was gazing at the stream, elbows on his knees, the sunlight flickering across his face. He looked so calm it annoyed you a little—like he hadn’t spent the whole morning confusing you.
When he saw you returning, his eyes immediately dropped to your hand, the makeshift bandage catching his attention. Without a word, he stood up and walked over to you, his brows furrowed slightly.
“What happened?” he asked, concern etched across his face.
“Oh, I just slipped. It’s nothing, really. Just a scratch,” you said quickly, forcing a shrug even though your palm still stung.
Anton didn’t look convinced. Without asking, he took your hand, carefully peeling back the cloth to look at the cut. His touch was soft but firm, and you felt your heart skip a beat as he inspected the wound.
“You should clean this properly,” he said, his voice low, a hint of concern in his tone.
“I will, it’s just—” you started, but he was already pulling you toward the river’s edge.
He crouched down by the water, motioning for you to follow. “Come here, rinse it off.”
You knelt beside him, dipping your hand into the cool water. The sting intensified for a moment before the fresh stream washed the dirt and blood away, leaving the cut cleaner. As if on cue, the guide appeared with a small first-aid kit, handing it to Anton. He opened it without a word, cleaning the wound with a steady hand before pressing on a Band-Aid.
“There,” he murmured. “How’s that?”
“Better, thanks.” You glanced at your hand, grateful, but Anton’s next words caught you off guard.
“You said you don’t need to hurt yourself to get my attention?” he asked with an almost teasing glint in his eyes.
You blinked, torn between amusement and disbelief. “I didn’t do this on purpose! And you weren’t even there when it happened.”
Anton’s lips curved faintly. “You came back with a wound. That got my attention.”
You scoffed, shaking your head. “I didn’t ask for you to clean it up or worry about me.”
His brows furrowed. “You don’t want me to?” he asked gently.
“What—Well… I.. I do!” you stammered, caught off guard by the softness in his tone. “But if you’re just going to hold it against me, then no thanks. I can take care of myself.”
Anton huffed a laugh, though it lacked humor. “As if you need to. There are plenty of people who’d line up to do that for you.” He nodded subtly toward Wonbin, who was chatting animatedly with the others nearby. “Park Wonbin, for example.”
A spark of irritation shot through you. “God, I hope you’re saying that because you’re jealous.”
Anton’s scoff came out a little too loud, and he quickly cleared his throat. “Why would I be jealous?”
“Exactly,” you muttered, pushing yourself to your feet, frustrated. “You don’t like me enough to get jealous of other guys.”
He frowned. “I don’t?”
“No, you don’t,” you said, crossing your arms, looking anywhere but him.
Anton tilted his head, studying you. “Fine. Let’s hear it. What did I do?”
That made you glance back at him. “What?”
“You’re upset about something I did. What is it?”
You laughed dryly. “See? If you actually liked me enough, you’d know the answer to that.” You turned and started walking away.
Anton rose too, exhaling in defeat. “Come on, that’s not fair.”
You glanced back just long enough to stick your tongue out before turning away again.
He could only sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as he watched you walk off. Despite the faint crease between his brows, a small, helpless smile tugged at his lips. “Let’s go back together later, okay?” he called after you, but you didn’t glance back.
Soon, your little respite by the river was over, and you were making your way back down to the foot of the mountain. Anton caught up to you at the parking lot, stepping in front of you before you could reach Wonbin’s car.
“Get in my car,” he said simply.
If someone ever asked what your toxic trait was, it’d be your inability to let go of a grudge. “Don’t tell me what to do,” you shot back.
“I’m not telling you what to do,” Anton replied, unbothered. “I’m asking you to come with me. Not with…” He glanced toward Wonbin, who was laughing at something Sohee said a few feet away. “…someone else.”
You scoffed, arms crossing instinctively. “Did you hear me complain when you came here with your ex instead of me?”
Anton fell quiet for a second longer than expected. You raised an eyebrow, making him chuckle.
“So that’s what this is about?” he asked, looking far too pleased with himself. It was infuriating how close you were to folding just because of that smile.
“Come on,” he said, tone softening. “You don’t have to worry about her.”
“Oh, I’m not,” you denied quickly, huffing. “Why would I be worried? I’m a ten. Too hot to handle.”
Anton chuckled, stepping closer until his hand found your waist. “Don’t hang out with Sohee too much. You’re starting to sound like him.”
You froze as his thumb brushed your damp forehead, wiping away sweat like it was something he’d habitually done for you. You could still feel the warmth of his touch long after he pulled away.
“Come on,” he murmured, already walking toward his car. “Let’s go back.”
And just like that, you followed with your grudge still half-intact, and your heart nowhere near calm.
The ride back to the university had been a blur. Exhaustion from the hike caught up to you, so you were asleep most of the trip. You vaguely remembered the sound of Sohee’s singing and the muffled conversations between him and Anton that filled the car.
When you woke, the sun had dipped low in the sky. Your head rested against the window, and the scent of Anton’s hoodie filling your senses. Your heart raced at the idea that he had placed it over you himself.
The car was already pulling into the university parking lot, the journey back seemingly much shorter than expected—probably because you’d slept through most of it.
“Slept well?” Anton asked, glancing at you with a smile. You smiled back and nodded in response.
Sohee groaned dramatically in the backseat, stretching his arms. “Longest drive of my life.”
“You mean longest ride,” you sniggered, handing Anton his hoodie. “You weren’t the one driving.”
“Different lexicon, same meaning.”
Outside, the cool air met your skin. Anton came around with both your bags in hand. Sohee bade you a quick goodbye before running somewhere, something about a forgotten AirPod he needed to retrieve. You didn’t mind, as it gave you a chance to walk with Anton toward the dorms, together.
“I guess that’s the end of our little trip,” you said.
“Yeah,” he replied, glancing your way. “It was fun.”
You couldn’t recall every detail of the trip, but you knew you and Anton were closer now than before. You could still feel the warmth each time he attended to you, his concern, his subtle displays of jealousy, and although it had been a silly joke, the kiss that sent you reeling in bliss.
At the dorm entrance, he paused, turning to you with a small flicker of worry on his face. “How’s your hand?”
“This? Oh, it’s perfectly fine,” you said, showing him your hand. “You did a good job fixing me up.”
Anton’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile, but close enough. He still held your bag as you walked down the hall, and you didn’t bother asking for it back.
“So, what are you doing today?” you asked, just to fill the silence.
He shrugged. “Assignment. Maybe game after.”
“Sounds exciting.”
“It’s not.”
You laughed, nudging his arm. “Need help?”
“Do you know how to code?”
“No, but I could hand you snacks while you work,” you offered.
He huffed out a small laugh. “No, thanks. I don’t eat and work at the same time.”
“Why not?” you asked, genuinely curious. “Don’t tell me you’re bad at multi-tasking?”
He shrugged. “I’m not. Food just makes it hard to concentrate on the more important task.”
You hummed. “Fair enough.”
You reached your door but didn’t open it right away. Letting him leave felt… anticlimactic. After everything that happened over the weekend, this sudden normalcy felt too unfinished.
“Do you wanna come in for a bit?” you asked, glancing at him.
He blinked, a little surprised. “Why?”
“So we can hang out some more.” You flashed a smile. “You can get started on that assignment. And I can sit around and try my best not to distract you.”
He studied you for a second, like he knew exactly what you were doing but wasn’t going to call you out on it. Then he shrugged and said, “Sure.”
You opened the door and stepped inside, the cool air from your room greeting you as you flicked the lights on. Bed, desk, couch, a small fridge and just enough space for two people who probably shouldn’t be alone together, but are anyway.
“Make yourself at home,” you said, grabbing a couple of sodas from the mini-fridge. “Juice, water, soda?”
“Soda’s fine.” He sank into the couch, legs stretched out, watching as you handed him a can. The faint hiss when he opened it filled the quiet space.
He opened his laptop and began working, and you couldn’t help but take a minute to just… watch him. The subtle shift of his focus, the way his fingers moved over the keyboard—it was distracting in a way you weren’t expecting, and oddly attractive. You sat on the floor next to him, chips in hand, close enough that your shoulder brushed against his knee.
“Why are you down there?” he asked.
“Didn’t wanna get crumbs on the bed.”
“You could’ve just sat beside me.”
You shook your head. “Don’t get me wrong, I would love that, but I promised I’d be quiet, so… yeah.”
“That’d be a first,” he murmured.
For a while, the quiet felt nice—him typing, you scrolling on your phone and giggling at memes. You didn’t think you’d actually manage to keep your promise not to talk, but you did. Mostly.
“So,” you said after a while, “How did you like the trip?”
He shot you a quick glance over his laptop. “It was okay.”
“That’s it?” you asked, brows furrowing. “Just ‘okay’? Not fun? Relaxing? Boring? Total waste of time?”
He leaned back on the couch, taking a break from typing and flexing his fingers. “It was nice and fun. Except for the part where I had to take care of a clumsy girl who hurts herself looking for berries.”
“It was an accident!”
“What about the time you got drunk and tried to kiss me?” he teased.
You froze, searching for a comeback. “I was drunk, so technically that was an accident too.”
He laughed softly. “Liar. You think about kissing me even when you’re sober.”
You gasped, scandalized. “Excuse me?!”
“Your words not mine,” he said, shrugging. “You’re too honest for your own good.”
Oddly enough, the teasing glint in his eyes and the smirk on his lips were more endearing than annoying. “Didn’t think you can be annoying, but people has a way of surprising you, I guess,” you complained, though you didn’t really mean it.
Anton didn’t say anything, he just grinned and leaned back, studying you like he was waiting for something you weren’t saying. You were still pouting, glaring at his smiling face and trying hard not to fold.
“What are you looking at?” you asked when he continued to just stare at you.
He closed his laptop and placed it on the table. “Come here,” he said, patting his lap.
You didn’t even think about it. You just moved—one knee on the couch, your hand finding his shoulder as you settled onto his lap. His hand snaked around your waist, the other resting on your thigh like this closeness was something the two of you do on the daily and not at all out of the ordinary.
He stared at you for a while, that small smile still playing on his lips. All of a sudden, his attention seemed too much, making you shy to the point that you couldn’t look him in the eyes anymore, so you looked away. Anton chuckled under his breath, making you glance back at him.
“What?” you snapped, trying your best not to sound nervous.
“Nothing,” he said, voice low. “You’re fidgety.”
“I’m not,” you denied, fidgeting even more. You looked down at your fingers on his chest. “Don’t you have an assignment to do?”
“How can I when you won’t stop talking?”
“I’ll leave you alone then,” you said, even though you hadn’t moved an inch away.
You gasped when his arm around your waist tightened slightly. That just made him laugh again and say, “You didn’t strike me as someone who’d be nervous sitting on her crush’s lap.”
You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Wow, you’re a vain one aren’t you?”
Anton tilted his head, puzzled. “Am I wrong? You do have a crush on me, though.”
You sighed, feigning defeat, with your shoulders sagging for added effect. “Fine. It’s my fault. I was the one who inflated your ego by following you around and showing you how much I like you.”
Anton’s laughter filled your ears again just before you felt his hand cupping your cheek. His thumb brushed along your jaw and your breath hitched in your throat. The teasing grin on his lips softened and that made your pulse race.
Without a word, he pressed a quick kiss on your lips. Then another. And another. You fully expected a fourth one to come, but it didn’t. Instead, Anton looked into your eyes, intently, as if asking for something he already knew the answer to.
You stayed still, your fingers curling in the fabric of his hoodie. And then Anton leaned in again, as if he was giving you a chance to stop him. You didn’t. You met him halfway, and the kiss landed softly. This time, it was longer, firmer, and definitely sweeter.
His hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, tilting your head for the right angle. You arched into him, kissing him back with the same amount of fervor. When you opened your mouth, he responded immediately, a low, quiet sound escaping him as his hands tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against him.
You gasped when his teeth grazed your lower lip, the sensation sending a shock of warmth through your body. His arms tightened around you, holding you steady, as though he could sense how much you were melting into him.
You kept going until it wasn’t just a kiss anymore. It was something more, something primal, and hot—very hot. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more of him, and he obliged, his lips moving against yours with more urgency, more need.
When you pulled back to breathe, you just stared at him—wide-eyed, breathless, a little dazed. Anton’s smile was small but unmistakably content as his thumb traced the outline of your face.
“Wow,” you said before your brain could stop you. “That was so much better than the one in the car.”
He raised an eyebrow, and you realized a second too late what you’d just said. “I mean—uh, not that that one was bad! Just—this one’s… better.”
He laughed softly, the sound low and warm, before reaching for his laptop.You blinked, watching in disbelief as he balanced it on his knee, his other hand still resting casually at the small of your back.
He’s not seriously going back to his assignment, is he? you thought, jaw dropping a little. But apparently, he was.
You tried to slip off his lap, but he caught your leg before you could move far, holding you there without looking up from his screen. So you stayed—perched sideways on the armrest, your legs resting across his lap, your brain spiraling while he typed like nothing happened.
For the next hour, the room stayed quiet. He worked while you scrolled aimlessly on your phone, pretending you weren’t replaying the kiss over and over again in your head, wondering what it meant, what came next, and if he could hear how loud your heart still was.
In the days that followed, everything between you and Anton felt different. The teasing was still there, but now it came with proximity and tenderness. Before, it had always been you who initiated any kind of physical touch in public—holding his hand, a playful nudge, resting your head on his shoulder when you were tired. But now, it was him, too.
Like the way he’d touch your arm when he walked by, or how he’d casually rest his hand on the back of your chair when you sat together. It was mostly just small simple gestures, but enough to send your heart doing cartwheels every time. Sure, he still maintained his aloof attitude, but his actions spoke louder than his words.
One afternoon, you were sitting together in a corner booth at a café with iced coffee, open laptops, and you pretending to study. Every so often, he’d glance up from his screen, meet your gaze, and flash you that rare, charming smile that made you melt just a little.
“You’ve been smiling a lot lately,” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him.
He didn’t look up. “I always smile.”
“No, you don’t. But lately, you’ve been smiling because of me.”
“You think too highly of yourself,” Anton said, eyes narrowed in amusement. “I smile for a lot of people.”
“Oh? Do you kiss a lot of people too?” you shot back, leaning forward and watching as a faint flush touched his ears.
He shook his head, still smiling but retreating behind his usual mask of aloofness. “That was a fluke. And I didn’t kiss you, you kissed me.”
You gasped dramatically. “You filthy little liar!”
He chuckled and shoved your half-empty cup toward you. “Finish it, or you’ll complain about all the ice melting away later.”
Over time, you learned that Anton wasn’t the type to outwardly fawn over anyone, but these little moments showed how much he paid attention. You wanted to impress him, so you drained your cup in one go, even though you were already full. He chuckled softly, giving you a look that said he saw right through you.
It wasn’t all just the proximity and teasing, though. You’d started noticing how you both went out of your way for each other. He’d grab an extra coffee to give to you on the way to your morning class. You saved him a strangely good cookie from lunch. He’d remind you of deadlines you pretended to forget. And you’d hang out at the IT library to keep him company when he’s working late on an assignment. All these gestures kept piling up.
“Is that a scrunchie?” you asked one time during a cafe run, eyeing the yellow lace scrunchie around his pulse.
“Hmh?” He glanced at his wrist. “Oh. Yeah, it’s a backup. You keep losing yours when we go out.”
“Aw. You’re so in love with me and I totally understand. I mean—” With flair, you flicked your hair out of your shoulder. “Just look at me.”
“Don’t push it,” he warned, taking the scrunchie from his wrist and handing it to you. “Fix your hair. I don’t want it in my pasta.”
You took it with a teasing grin. “Thanks. But you could have gotten those plain black hair ties though. That way, I wouldn’t feel too bad for losing them.”
“I thought it would look good on you,” he mumbled but you heard him just fine.
Out of habit, you would’ve teased him—asked if he’s falling for you. But the way he looked away with the tiniest hint of shyness, the red tint on his ears, and the slight furrow of his brows—everything added up. You didn’t have to ask.
But you kept it playful because that’s what you knew how to do. “Are you falling in love with me, Anton Lee?” you teased one lazy afternoon, batting your eyes like it was a joke.
Anton scoffed, leaning back in his chair with an air of indifference. “I’m not falling in love with anyone,” he denied smoothly.
“Maybe not.” You tied the scrunchie into your hair with a grin. “But you definitely like me.”
Right on cue, the server came over—a middle-aged woman with kind eyes, the type who probably handed out unsolicited but warm advice with every dish. “You two look adorable together,” she said, beaming at both of you. “How long have you been dating?”
“We’re not dating,” you replied immediately, returning her smile. “It’s just me. I like him a lot, and he’s… well, he’s just putting up with my antics.” You scrunched your nose playfully, expecting her to laugh and move along.
Instead, she paused, head tilted. “Isn’t that what dating is?”
You stared after her, blinking. “Sorry?”
She didn’t say anything, and just laughed as she walked away with her tray.You turned to Anton, waiting for him to correct the misunderstanding like always. But he just stared back at you, lips quirking into an amused smile.
This wasn’t the first time someone mistook you for a couple. You’d lost count of how many times people asked things like, “When did you start dating?” And every time, you laughed it off, always the first to deny it, brushing away the idea with a joke.
Not because you didn’t want it… God, you wanted it! But the thought of making Anton uncomfortable, of pushing something he hadn’t acknowledged? You didn’t want that.
Anton, meanwhile, never denied it. Never confirmed it either. He just kept floating over that maddening middle ground that kept you guessing.
After dinner, you walked back to campus with your arm wrapped tightly around his, humming a song you’d been obsessed with lately. Your head swayed with each step—carefree—until Anton suddenly slowed, then stopped.
“Why do you keep telling everyone we’re not dating?” he asked, making you glance up at him.
“Because we’re not?” you replied, brows knitting.
He scoffed, shaking his head as he resumed walking. “For someone who’s supposedly head over heels for me, you sure hate it when people think we’re a couple.”
“I don’t hate it. I actually like it!” you insisted, clinging tighter. “I’m denying it for your sake. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
“Uncomfortable?” he echoed, glancing at you again.
You hesitated, struggling to line up your thoughts. “I just… didn’t want to assume you were okay with it. I didn’t want to make things weird by pushing something you haven’t even said you wanted.”
“Why worry so much about what I feel when I’ve never made a big deal out of it?”
His tone was casual, almost indifferent, but the way he said it suggested something far more profound. You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. His actions and his words were confusing, and you didn’t want to make your own conclusions.
Anton let out a soft sigh, moving a step ahead of you, his hands slipping into his pockets as he walked on.
“Hey, wait up!” you called, jogging after him, completely missing the subtle, satisfied smile playing on his lips.
You were in your dorm room again. This had become routine—your little bubble. Some days you sat across from each other, other days you lay together on your bed, sharing peaceful silence. Tonight, Anton sat comfortably on the couch, legs crossed, leaning against the backrest. He looked relaxed as he talked about his plans for the future.
It was a very Anton sort of conversation. He had been so open about his future, talking about post-college job prospects and what he planned to do with his IT degree. You listened, thoroughly intrigued by how calm and composed he was about the life waiting beyond college.
“What about you?” he asked suddenly.
The question caught you off-guard. It shouldn’t have—given the direction of the conversation, it was inevitable that he’d ask about your future too. It hadn’t sunk in yet, but you’re a senior now, and you knew that you would soon be graduating. And you still had no idea where to begin with the career you wanted so badly.
“What do you wanna do?” he repeated, tilting his head in that way he did whenever he realized you were drifting.
And drifting you were. Your eyes had begun tracing the shape of his mouth without permission—the subtle movements of his lips with each word, the way they pressed together when he paused to think. At this point, it was a habit. You barely registered the question because you were too busy studying him.
“Hey?” he prompted again.
You blinked, your gaze snapping back to his eyes, but the words tumbled out before you could think. “I so badly want to kiss you right now. That’s what I wanna do.”
Anton sighed, like he was already used to you blurting impulsive things. You cackled. His non-reaction is only comical to you now.
You pushed yourself to your feet, still grinning. “Never mind, then.”
You turned to leave, but before you could even take a full step, a firm tug pulled you backward—and suddenly you were in his lap. You got a brief glimpse of him swiftly taking his glasses off and tossing them aside before his lips crashed into yours—all in a span of two seconds.
You froze in delight, then kissed him back with just as much urgency. Before it could deepen though, he pulled away, hands clutching your shoulders.
“There. Happy?” he muttered, feigning indifference. But he wasn’t fooling you. Not even close.
You pouted, still breathless, reaching up to fix the slightly crooked collar of his shirt. “I don’t really wanna talk about careers right now.”
“Okay,” he said, shrugging. “Then let’s talk about us.”
“Us?” you echoed, trying to sound casual, though your pulse had quickened.
He nodded. There was a gentleness on his face that sent butterflies raging in your stomach. “Yeah. Us. Me, you, and what we want this relationship to be.”
The room felt still, his words hanging in the air between you. You couldn’t stop staring at him—at the softness in his dark eyes, the subtle parting of his lips like something else was on the tip of his tongue. Like he was teetering on the edge of a feeling he’d kept quiet for far too long.
Your heartbeat was loud, pounding against your ribs, drowning every thought except him. His closeness was intoxicating, and his lips so inviting. He was looking at you with an intensity that was making it hard to breathe. You stared back, and something, somehow, seemed to have snapped between you.
Anton grabbed your face and pressed his lips onto yours—softly, languidly, like he’d been deprived of it for so long that he wanted to savor every second of it. You kissed him back, closing your eyes.
You could feel every touch. The way his hands slid up your back, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. The way his lips moved with a passion that seemed to match the pounding of your heart. It was overwhelming, how the heat was engulfing you from head to toe.
You pulled back for a moment, just enough to catch your breath, but your forehead stayed pressed against his. His breath was warm against your lips, and his eyes—half-lidded and dark with desire—locked onto yours. He didn’t say anything, but he looked at you like you were the only person in the world that mattered right now.
“Kiss me like that again and I’m gonna take it as your confession of love,” you whispered.
Anton rolled his eyes—and kissed you again, just as intently.
You gasped when he pulled away. “Is that… is that your confession of love?”
“You can be a little dense sometimes,” he sighed.
Before you could react, his hand slid behind your neck again, guiding you into another kiss. This time, it was deeper, hungrier. His lips molded against yours, his grip on you tightening as though he couldn’t bear to let you go. You moaned softly into his mouth, the sound swallowed by the kiss as he tilted his head, changing the angle to kiss you even harder.
You felt dizzy, lightheaded—completely consumed by him. His lips, his touch, his scent—all of it was too much, yet not enough at the same time. You wanted more of him, more of this.
Your hips bucked forward, slamming onto his crotch where you found out that he too was being spurred further into the pit of desire. The contact made Anton grunt, nipping your lower lip and wrapping strong arms around your waist.
Breathless, you pulled away, staring into his eyes and wondering if this was actually happening. Anton lifted you by your thighs and moved from the couch to the bed in a heartbeat. There, he carefully laid you down, running gentle fingers through your hair.
“Anton…” you whispered, unsure of what you were going to say, but needing to break the silence.
He pressed a thumb on your lip, shushing you softly before kissing you again. This time, he abandoned your lips too quickly, moving his kisses down to your jaw and up to your earlobe. The tickling sensation spread through your nerves, intensified by his hand slipping under your shirt to palm your breast. You moaned out, arching toward his touch—your quiet way of asking for more.
Anton’s lips left your ear, trailing to your neck down to your collarbone. His hands were busy with the buttons of your shirt, all while you were angling your neck to give him better access of your skin.
He pulled back once he was done with the buttons, marveling at the sight of your body, and letting out a sharp exhale before lifting the hem of his shirt and tossing it across the room.
“I can do a lot more without those,” he said, gesturing at your set of underwear.
While you were fiddling with the hook of your bra, Anton dived down to kiss your belly, sucking with an intensity that you knew would leave tiny bruises on your skin. He was moving upwards, grabbing a boob as he peppered his path with kisses and then taking his mouth to meet your nipple. As if by his design, he sucked your nipple and pressed his fingers on your sex at the same time.
The moan you let out was throaty, spurred on by the ministrations of his mouth and his fingers. He rubbed tentative circles on your cunt, trying to find your clit based on your reactions. When he did find it, your mouth parted open as you took a sharp intake of breath, and the confidence on Anton’s face made you want him even more than you already did.
“Oh, I see,” he grinned, licking a stripe on your neck. “That’s the spot, isn’t it?”
You bit your lower lip, trying not to lose your mind with just this. “Since when did you talk like thi—agh!”
“Shh, you’re distracting me,” he said after pushing a finger in your cunt that had you gasping. He watched you writhe underneath him, going absolutely insane with just a finger. When he pushed another one inside, you were close to crying, whimpering, and clenching around his fingers.
“Anton please…” you whined, forehead creased and lips downturned—desperate, needy. “Please.”
“Come on. Say it properly. I can’t give you what you want unless you tell me what it is.”
You threw your head back and sobbed before meeting his gaze again to say, “Fuck me, Anton. I need you to fuck me really really good.”
Anton groaned softly, clenching his jaw as he pulled his fingers out of your pussy. He shimmied out of his sweatpants and positioned himself between your legs, watching you with half-lidded eyes.
He licked his fingers and used them to palm his erection. Your breath hitched at the sight, chest heaving up and down as you waited patiently for him to do what he came to do. He lowered himself, placing his hands beside your head as he prodded your entrance with his cock.
“You sure about this?” Anton asked, caressing your face.
“Aren’t you?” you shot back, brows furrowing.
That made him chuckle. “You and your sharp tongue.”
He kissed you again, just as he pushed inside you with one messy stroke. The gasp you let out was guttural—one of surprise, pain, and pleasure, mostly pleasure. The nerves all over your body were rejoicing, feeling both relief and a delightful pain as your cunt stretched exquisitely.
“Damn, look at you,” he drawled, leaning lower to give your open mouth a sloppy kiss. “I didn’t know you could get any prettier. If I did, I would have done this a long time ago.”
“Move, Anton,” you managed to rasp out, not even trying to hide the desperation in your voice. “Please, move. Please, please, please, please!”
He did as you asked, moving languidly as he practiced the clench. That didn’t take long. In no time, he was rocking inside you over and over in a rhythm that made you lose your mind. You writhed and whimpered, urging Anton to keep going.
When it looked like you couldn’t take any more, he paused for a bit, squeezing your skin as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear. Then he lifted your leg over his shoulder and rammed deeply into you, grunting at how tightly you clung onto his manhood.
“Fuck,” he groaned, pausing to take a break. You reached to wipe the sweat forming on his forehead and saw the expression on his face—something between pained and delighted. “We’re not done yet,” he said, hovering over you and ravishing your neck before picking up where he left off.
You kept at it, moving in sync with each other, getting lost in a blur of passion and desire. Your mind was clouded, thinking about nothing except the building pleasure and satisfaction. You rose to meet his thrusts, clawing at his back, moaning and whining for more. And Anton was more than willing to give you what you want, driving himself further into you, kissing you wherever his mouth could reach. All while you desperately chased a high that was almost within reach.
“Oh, Anton,” you cried out, eyes rolling back just before the pulsating release engulfed you with euphoria.
“Damn it,” Anton murmured, his thrusts becoming sloppy and unsteady as he chased his own climax, driven further into a high by your fucked-out face.
Then you both laid there, breathless, staring at the ceiling with nothing but the sound of your ragged breathing to break the silence. You turned on your side, moving towards him and resting your head on his arm. His hands found a spot on your waist, thumb absentmindedly tracing small circles on your skin.
“Is this the part where I ask if I could be your boyfriend?” he asked, breaking the comfortable silence.
You giggled, nudging his shoulder. “We’re way past that now. But I’d still say yes, if it makes you feel better.”
He hesitated, eyes flicking briefly away. “But… I don’t believe in love. Is that okay?”
You rolled your eyes at him, not annoyed, just amused. “It’s okay.”
“It’s overrated,” he added, like it was a fact he’d researched.
“Yes, you’ve mentioned,” you xteased.
Anton shifted onto his side to face you properly, his eyes gleaming with affection and fondness. Those eyes were directed at you—a rare look he saved only for you. “I’m not good at this,” he admitted quietly. “And I don’t know what to call… us. But I know I can’t stand the idea of not being yours.”
Your heart flipped. You leaned in and kissed his cheek. “It’s fine, Anton. If you want me like I want you, it doesn’t matter what we call it.”
“Okay, baby,” he murmured with a smile, fingers brushing your hair off your shoulder. His thumb traced along your neck, his expression changing into guilt. “I may or may not have left some…” he paused, “...marks.”
You jolted upright, smacking his chest. “Anton Lee!”
He just lay there smirking, propped up on an elbow, eyebrows doing a very irritating wiggle.
“The girls are gonna see that and know we had sex!”
He shrugged. “They’ll probably just say something like, ‘About damn time’.”
You glared half-heartedly. “You’re annoying.”
You hopped out of bed and made a beeline for the bathroom. Anton followed behind you, draping an arm around your shoulder and then kissing the side of your head.
“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again,” he said, chuckling lightly.
“No, do it again,” you said sheepishly, looking away. “Just… not where people can see it.”
You peeked at Anton’s face and saw him sporting a massive grin. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
From the start of your official relationship, things shifted dramatically. Anton was a completely different person from his usual aloof self. He was all over you—holding your hand, lying on your lap, hugging you from behind—anything as long as he was touching you.
Your dorm room remained the prime spot for these moments. He’d drape himself over you lazily, stealing kisses whenever you least expected it. The guy who once seemed indifferent now craved your touch like he was making up for lost time.
And in public, it was no different. Anton would always reach for you without looking because he knew you’d be there. He’d lace your fingers together, or rest a hand on your thigh like it was instinct.
It was so instinctive that one afternoon, he accidentally grabbed Sungchan instead—his palm settling on Sungchan’s knee while his eyes stayed glued to his phone. Sungchan, immediately recognizing his chance to mess with his friend, leaned his head on Anton’s shoulder, pretending to cuddle closer.
Still blissfully unaware, Anton absentmindedly reached up and cupped Sungchan's cheek, thumb stroking like a lovesick boyfriend.
“Man, I didn’t know you were this clingy,” Sungchan sighed, leaning in.
Anton blinked, his brain catching up, and when the realization hit, he let out a horrified gasp, yanking his hand so quickly like he’d been burned. “Sungchan, what the f—!” He scrambled across the couch as if distance would erase the moment.
Across the room, you were in stitches laughing with the rest of your friends, watching the whole thing unfold.
“Babe,” Anton called out to you, almost desperately as he fled toward you for safety. The sudden shift into an affectionate voice had everyone cringing.
“I could never get used to this,” Eunseok groaned, burying his face in his hands.
“I hate it when they call each other that,” Sohee added with a mock shiver. “Like, okay, you’re in love and I’m lonely. We get it.”
Anton ignored them, wrapping his arms around you like a child seeking comfort. “I missed you,” he mumbled dramatically into your shoulder, drawing another round of groans.
You tapped his forehead. “I was literally five steps away.”
“That’s five steps too far,” he countered, burying his face into the crook of your neck while everyone pretended to gag.
Moments like this had become normal now—Anton letting people see just how much he liked you, even if he still tried to cling to his “too cool to care” persona. It was adorable.
Despite the teasing, you liked this new side of him. It felt good knowing Anton was willing to show both you and your friends a part of himself that not everyone got to see. Your relationship had leveled up, and it was evident not just in the way he acted but in the ease you felt together now
“Can we go back to when the only simp in this friend group was her?” Jill complained, pointing at you. “Anton’s giving me the creeps.”
Feigning offense, you planted your hands on your hips. “Wow, okay. Sue me for being drop-dead gorgeous and having a boyfriend who is, unfortunately for you all, obsessed with me.”
“Don’t listen to them, babe. Jealous friends are fake friends,” said Anton, covering your ears and kissing the side of your head.
Anton had a patience that made it easy to handle your boundless energy. When you’d burst into a room excited, full of chatter, he would always listen with a soft smile, never overwhelmed by your liveliness. He never tried nor needed to match it—he balanced it.
Anton knew how to take care of you, too. When your stress bubbled over, he’d pull you into his arms, resting his chin on top of your head, whispering words of comfort so softly they barely broke the silence. You’d feel the stress melt away in those moments, reassured just by being close to him.
And you understood him just as well. You knew when he was getting tired, even when he tried to hide it behind his usual stoic demeanor. Like when he’d sit a little closer than usual or his fingers would linger on your arm. That’s when you’d instinctively dial it back, protect him in the way he protected you. You were attuned to his subtle cues, an understanding between the two of you that others rarely noticed.
“Remember when we were in that seminar, and you asked me if I liked you?” you had asked randomly one day.
Anton laughed, a soft sound that felt like a warm hug. “How could I forget? That was when I started falling for you.”
“Really?” you asked, eyes widening at his revelation. Anton rolled his eyes as if he regretted telling you that. “No, but seriously?”
“Yes. You were so confident then. You looked me in the eye and said exactly what you felt. I felt my heart skip a beat for the first time that day.”
“No way!” You swatted his chest, grinning. “So why pretend you didn’t care for so long?”
Anton scratched the back of his neck. “I might’ve enjoyed watching you chase me.”
You gasped, scandalized, and he only smirked. “What were you going to say that day, anyway?”
“Oh!” You sat up, remembering. “I was gonna ask if you were about to tell me to leave you alone before the professor walked in.”
He stared at you, then smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, no. I think you’ve figured out the answer.”
You giggled and climbed right back into his arms, looping yours around his torso and meeting his gaze. “I love you so much.”
“Love’s overrated,” he replied instantly, chuckling. Then, softer, forehead resting against yours, he added, “But love was worth a try with you.”