#anton lee ff

[moonriizing]

Jump Then Fall | l.anton (+18)

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.

Sohee leaned close, whispering, “That’s Anton’s ex.”

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.”

[fin]

[fleurliz]

𝐹avOriTe

bf!anton x f!r    (  ≧ᗜ≦)    fluff    ──────✿  ❕ clinginess and shirtless ton  1.1k   💌      

The apartment is quiet when Anton slips in, the soft click of the door lock followed by the shuffle of his shoes. It's late — much later than he wanted — but rehearsals ran long and no one had the heart to leave until everything was perfect. Still, he hates being away from you for this long.

He drops his bag gently by the door and heads toward the faint blue light coming from the living room.

You're there, curled up on the couch, one leg tossed over a pillow, the other peeking out from beneath the hem of hisoversized shirt — a shirt that hangs off your frame like a blanket. The TV is still playing Ginny & Georgia — of all things — and the remote is loosely gripped in your hand, thumb resting just beside the volume button.

Anton smiles.

You must’ve tried to wait for him.

He pads over and crouches beside you, brushing a few strands of hair from your cheek. Your face is relaxed, lips parted slightly in your sleep. The kind of sleep where nothing could wake you.

Gently, he slips an arm beneath your knees and the other around your shoulders, lifting you bridal style. You stir a little, nose scrunching as you unconsciously curl against him, tucking your face into the crook of his neck.

His heart melts.

“Of course you're cuddly now,” he mumbles with a grin, carrying you to the bedroom.

He lays you down carefully, but before he can even pull away, your hand tugs weakly at his shirt.

“No—stay.”

He chuckles softly. “Baby, I need to shower. I smell like a gym.”

“Don’t care,” you mumble, eyes still shut. “Smell like… Anton.”

“I don’t even know if that’s a compliment,” he says, amused. But he presses a kiss to your forehead anyway, lingering for a second longer than necessary.

You let go, eventually, and Anton slips into the bathroom.

The sound of water running fills the apartment. You drift in and out of sleep, only properly waking when you hear the door click open and the faint whirr of a blow dryer. You peek through barely opened eyes.

He’s standing in front of the mirror, towel around his waist, head bowed slightly as he runs his fingers through his damp hair while drying it. The muscles in his back shift with each movement, and even in your sleepy haze, you can’t help but admire the view.

Without a word, you stand and pad across the room. He doesn't notice you until your arms snake around his waist from behind and your cheek presses into his back.

He stills.

Then: “Why are you awake?” His voice is quieter now, low and sweet, like it’s reserved just for you.

You smirk against his skin. “God forbid a girl misses her boyfriend.”

Anton lets out a breathy laugh. He turns the dryer off, setting it on the counter.

He twists in your hold, turning to face you. Your arms stay wrapped around him loosely, and he dips his head until your foreheads touch.

“Still sleepy?” he murmurs.

You nod. “Mhm.”

“But not too sleepy to sneak up on me in my towel?”

You smirk. “Maybe I like what I see.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Should I dry my hair more often, then?”

You giggle, fingers tracing the edge of the towel just to mess with him. “You’re so cocky.”

“And yet,” he leans in, brushing your nose with his, “you’re wearing my shirt. Again.”

“It’s comfortable.”

“It’s mine.”

“And I’m yours,” you counter, eyes twinkling.

He kisses you then — soft, slow, like he’s been waiting for this all day. His hands settle on your hips, thumbs brushing the skin above your shorts, and when he pulls away, you chase his lips instinctively.

“I missed you,” you whisper against his mouth.

“I missed you more,” he says, voice almost a sigh. “Come back to bed with me?”

You nod, eyes fluttering. “Only if you carry me again.”

He laughs, shaking his head, but he lifts you easily. “Spoiled.”

You nuzzle into his chest, a content smile on your face. “Yours.”

[seventeensbabye]

⟡ ݁₊ . ˎˊ˗ FIRST TIME (PT. 1)

𓂃　۪ ׄ requested?noo!

₊ ୧ genre: slow burn, friends-to-lovers, emotional tension + soft smut and domestic intimacy. 𓈒 ׄ paring: anton x fem!reader

𓏸⠀ 𓈒 warnings/tags cursing, drinking/alcohol use, mentions of public sex, virginity loss, kissing, nipple sucking, slight dirty talk, fingering, nude photo mention, car sex mention, creampie, softdom!anton, virgin!reader 𓏸⠀ 𓈒 word count: 5405

𓈒 ׄ summary: you went to go hang out with your friends not knowing anton would be there, you two always had the weirdest relationship. never speaking but there was always something filling in the words you never spoke. after a few drinks and some games everything unfolds. ₊ ୧ m.list! 𓂃　۪ ׄ a/n: i actually love writing soft!dom anton fics, i need him bad. (part 2!)

it wasn’t even that late. just 8pm on a friday, and with nothing better to do, you let kimmy drag you out to chill with sohee and wonbin. what she conveniently forgot to mention was that anton would be there. and of course, you hadn’t dressed up. just grey sweats, an old hoodie, and a tight tank top that fit wrong in all the right ways. the kind that barely held up against your chest.

place was lowkey dead when you showed up. wonbin and his girl were already cozied up in the couch corner like a damn movie scene. you and kimmy slid in fast, plopped down while sohee handled the food order, and made pointless small talk with the lovebirds like it wasn’t all background noise anyway.

and anton? 

he was just… there. leaning in the corner, silent, eyes tracking the room. mainly you. like he was taking notes. someone put on music. it played low, just enough to keep things from feeling awkward. sohee ended up inviting jaehyun and his girl, and they pulled up right when the food did, bringing along two more girls like it was nothing. once the couch filled and everyone got comfortable, dinner was on, bottles of soju popped open, and things started to loosen up.

the girls were on him instantly. like moths to a flame. barely five minutes in and they were already clinging to anton’s arms, laughing too loud, touching his chest like it was a party game. he didn’t look amused though, not even close. his jaw was tight, expression flat, eyes flicking toward you every so often like he was silently begging for an out. like he hated how casually they were draped over him.

you kept quiet, half-focused on your drink and the way your hoodie kept slipping off your shoulder. a couple drinking games started up to break the ice. truth or dare got old fast, so someone suggested ‘never have i ever.’ classic. harmless. at first.

"never have i ever hooked up in a car."

sohee giggled, immediately taking a sip. three others did too.

"never have i ever had a one-night stand."

one of the random girls tossed in, locking eyes with anton as she drank. he didn’t lift his cup.

"never have i ever gotten head in a public place."

jaehyun grinned, and suddenly the room was louder, people ooh-ing, sipping. kimmy drank. so did wonbin’s girlfriend. you didn’t. you stayed quiet through a few rounds, fingers playing with the rim of your glass. the more questions were asked, the more it hit you just how little you’d done. your cup stayed frustratingly full.

"never have i ever sent a nude." 

someone smirked. you hesitated. you’d sent one, barely. cropped. tasteful. still didn’t drink. it got tense when someone said:

"never have i ever faked an orgasm." 

and all the girls laughed while you just looked down. then anton spoke. first time all night. voice low, smooth, cutting through the noise like a blade.

a: “never have i ever lied during this game.”

and for the first time, you felt his gaze pin you in place. your breath caught. your fingers wrapped tighter around the bottle.

you stayed quiet after the game ended. cheeks warm, stomach heavier than you expected. the soju was working slow, settling somewhere behind your ribs while the room started to buzz with loose laughter and louder music. people had peeled off. wonbin and his girlfriend curled back up, sohee half-asleep against kimmy’s boobs, the two random girls on the floor now trying to learn some tiktok dance.

you got up to grab a water, slipping into the kitchen just to breathe for a sec, hoodie sleeves pushed up and tank still sticking to your skin a little too tight. you leaned against the counter, sipping slow, watching condensation roll down the side of the bottle.

a: “your nails look good.”

you jumped. not dramatically, but enough. he was just there. leaning against the other side of the counter like he’d been waiting. like he’d followed.

you: “oh. thanks.”

you looked down at your hand on the bottle, at the simple glossy set you’d forgotten you even had done. square shaped. nude pink. kinda grown out.

you: “they’re old.”

a: “still pretty.”

you blinked. didn’t say anything. just let your eyes flick up to meet his. he wasn’t smirking, wasn’t teasing. just watching you with that same unreadable stare, like he was still trying to figure out what to do with you.

you: “you’ve been quiet all night.”

a: “so have you.”

he said it like it meant something. like he noticed.

you: 'i didn’t really think you’d be here.”

a: “same.”

he reached past you, slow, grabbing a water from the fridge. his chest brushed your arm, just for a second, but it was enough to send a spark straight down your spine.

a: “you don’t like drinking games?”

you: “not when i’m basically losing the whole time.”

a slow smile curved at the corner of his mouth.

a: “i don’t think you lost.”

you raised a brow.

you: “my cup didn’t go down once.”

a: “exactly.”

he stared, for a long time. way too long. the kind of stare that started to itch under your skin, not because it was creepy. but because it felt like he saw way more than you wanted him to. it went quiet. awkward quiet. not even background-music-to-drown-it-out quiet.

then jaehyun turned the music up just a little, grabbed sohee’s hand and dragged him your way, both of them half-tipsy and giggling as they walked up. jaehyun’s arm slung over your shoulder without hesitation.

j: “so what are you two talking about?”

s: “they’re awkwardly staring at each other, they never speak.”

j: “maybe they’re reading each other’s minds.”

sohee laughed. loud. like, scream-laughed. jaehyun started cracking up too, dramatic as hell. anton? didn’t even flinch. just blinked once. still staring at you.

s: “yeah right, she’d know exactly what he thinks ab-”

anton reached over and tapped sohee’s chest with the back of his hand. light, casual, but purposeful. like a silent shut the fuck up. jaehyun paused, brows pulling together in confusion for a second before it hit him. his eyes flicked to you, then to anton, then back to you.

you just stood there. clueless. bottle in hand. cheeks warm. wondering what the hell anton didn’t want him to say.

the night dragged on in that sleepy, drunken way. everyone loose and swaying, dancing like they were underwater, limbs sloppy with soju and laughter. after a while, things slowed down. the two extra girls dipped out with barely a goodbye, and wonbin started tossing blankets onto whatever furniture had space left, mumbling something about “crash wherever.” sohee ended up knocked out on top of kimmy, head pillowed right on her boobs like it was the most natural place in the world. jaehyun and his girlfriend were already out cold, tangled up on the couch like they hadn’t even meant to fall asleep.

you stayed behind to clean. mostly to avoid the awkwardness of not knowing where to sleep. the kitchen was dim, just the warm under-light of the cabinets glowing above the sink. you washed the last cup, fingers wrinkled and cold, then reached for a towel and dried your hands slowly. he was still there.

anton. silent. leaning in the corner like he’d been assigned to haunt you.

you didn’t look at him, but you could feel him. the way his gaze stuck like heat to your skin, no matter how hard you tried to act normal. his arms were crossed tight, hoodie up, jacket barely zipped to show the black tank underneath. the chain on his neck shimmered faintly under the kitchen light, resting against the sharp dip of his collarbone like it belonged there.

you turned around, leaning back against the sink, heart thumping stupid hard. his eyes were unreadable. still. waiting.

you: “uh, it’s late... i think i should go.”

he didn’t move. didn’t blink. didn’t say anything at first. and you weren’t sure if you wanted him to stop you or let you leave. your throat was dry. the silence between you two crackled like static.

a: “or you can stay.”

his voice was soft. quieter than before. low and warm like he didn’t want to wake the rest of the house, like the words were meant just for you. you blinked, lips parting slightly. hesitated. he hadn’t moved from the corner, but his eyes were steady on you, unreadable, mouth tugged into something that wasn’t quite a smile but wasn’t neutral either.

you: “yeah, uh… i mean, i could just crash next to kimmy or something.”

you said it like a question. like you were giving him a chance to correct you. and he did. just with a slow step forward.

a: “or…”

your heart stuttered. the way he said it. like there was only one real option. like you already knew what he meant. he stopped a couple feet in front of you now, close enough to smell the faint laundry scent of his hoodie, the lingering soju on his breath, the clean musk of his cologne still clinging to the chain on his neck.

a: “you don’t wanna sleep next to sohee snoring all night, do you?”

you let out a breathy laugh before you could stop it, glancing down. your palms were suddenly sweaty against the dish towel still in your hand. when you looked up, his gaze was already dropped. locked on your neckline, on the way your tank dipped low across your chest. he didn’t look away when you caught him. not even a flinch.

you: “so what… your room, then?”

his brow lifted a little. almost surprised you said it out loud.

a: “only if you want to.”

his voice was even softer this time. careful. like he didn’t want to scare you off. like he knew exactly how inexperienced you were after that game. and that’s what made your stomach twist. because the offer wasn’t cocky. it wasn’t performative. it felt like he was being gentle on purpose.

you: “just sleep?”

he took one more step, now close enough that his fingers could brush your wrist if he reached.

a: “whatever you want.”

you didn’t remember agreeing aloud. just remember setting the towel down, heart in your throat, and following him out of the kitchen.

his room was clean. like, surprisingly clean for a boy. soft lamplight glowing from the nightstand, bed already made. gray sheets, dark comforter, one too many pillows. the window was cracked just slightly, letting in the faint hum of the night and the cooler air that instantly brushed your skin. you stepped in first. he followed. closed the door behind you with a soft click that made your whole body flinch. you didn’t know what to do at first. just stood awkwardly near the edge of the bed, hands shoved into the pockets of your hoodie, swaying slightly on your heels like you were waiting to be given instructions. anton didn’t say anything. just pulled the hoodie off over his head and tossed it onto the desk chair in one clean motion.

his tank clung to his torso like second skin, chain catching the light as he moved. he didn’t seem in a rush. didn’t seem nervous. just calm. unreadable. that same quiet confidence you’d been trying not to obsess over all night.

a: “you cold?”

you shook your head quickly, maybe a little too quick.

you: “no. i’m good.”

his lips twitched. not quite a smile, but enough to make your chest tighten. he sat at the edge of the bed, legs spread, arms resting on his thighs, watching you like he was giving you space to figure it out.

a: “you can sit, y’know.”

you: “right. yeah.”

you climbed onto the bed slowly, slipping off your hoodie to leave just the tank and sweats, trying not to notice how his eyes subtly dropped to your chest again before flicking away just as fast. you sat cross-legged at the edge, a full two feet between you both.

silence settled in again, thick and quiet and warm. his room smelled like him. something clean, faintly woody, like soap and skin and that cologne you were already starting to memorize.

he leaned back on his palms, looking at the ceiling.

a: “you really haven’t done any of that shit they asked about?”

you froze. not offended, just surprised. your head tilted slightly as you looked at him, unsure if he was teasing.

you: “no… i wasn’t lying.”

his gaze met yours again. softer now. like something shifted behind his eyes.

a: “good.”

you blinked.

you: “good?”

a: “yeah. means no one’s ruined you yet.”

you stared at him. breath caught. and he didn’t explain himself. just leaned back further onto his elbows and let the silence stretch again. comfortable this time. he didn’t reach for you. didn’t touch you. but the tension was there, thick enough to taste. you laid back slowly beside him. close, but not touching.

and neither of you said anything for a long, long time.

the ceiling became the safest place to look. your head rested on his pillow, hair spread out around you, heart thudding too loud for how quiet the room was. anton hadn’t moved since you laid beside him. just stayed still on his elbows, head tilted your way, like he was watching you without actually turning to look.

your arms weren’t touching, but they were close. enough that when you shifted, just a little. your elbow grazed his. a brush of skin, warm and electric. your breath hitched.

he noticed.

his eyes flicked down to where your arms met, then slowly up to your face. and for a second, neither of you looked away. you were the first to blink.

you: “you always stare this much?”

his lip quirked at the corner. just barely.

a: “only when it’s hard to look away.”

you didn’t know what to do with that. so you just smiled a little. tight, nervous and rolled onto your side to face him more directly. your knees curled slightly, one hand tucked under your cheek.

he mirrored you. slow. careful. like he was testing gravity. his hand lifted, hovered halfway like he wanted to tuck your hair behind your ear but thought better of it. it dropped softly onto the space between you instead, fingers brushing the blanket.

your heart beat like it was trying to climb out of your chest.

you: “you’re… really close.”

a: “do you want me to back up?”

your lips parted. you meant to speak. something, anything. but it didn’t come out. instead, you shook your head slowly. barely. and that was it.

he leaned in. no warning, no dramatic pause. just a slow, clean shift forward until his mouth ghosted over yours. his breath warm. still not touching.

you tilted forward that last inch and that’s when he kissed you. soft. deliberate. like he was tasting the moment, not just your lips. his hand lifted again, fingers finally slipping into your hair this time, cradling the back of your head so gently it made your whole body ache.

he didn’t rush. didn’t push. just kissed you again, deeper. letting it linger. letting it bloom. his thumb brushed your cheek, and your fingers curled into his tank like instinct. you barely pulled apart, noses brushing, breaths shallow.

a: “wanna leave?”

you: “n-no.”

your voice was barely a whisper. he kissed you again.

you weren’t even sure how long the kiss lasted. just that it left your lips tingling, head light, heart pounding loud enough you swore he could hear it. you were still curled toward him, fingers resting soft on his waist, like any sudden move might shatter whatever was blooming between you.

he kept close. lips parted against yours, breath warm, noses bumping softly as he hovered, waiting. checking.

a: “okay?”

his voice was barely a murmur. the kind of softness you didn’t expect from someone who looked like him. it made your chest squeeze.

you: “yeah. yeah, i’m okay.”

he smiled at that. tiny. quiet. then leaned in again. this time, the kiss was deeper.

slower.

like he wanted to savor it. like he meant it. his hand slid further into your hair, cradling the back of your neck, keeping you steady while his lips moved against yours with more pressure. more certainty, it wasn’t rushed. there was no bite, no hunger. just the quiet, growing intensity of something that had been held back too long.

your hands moved without thinking. one sliding up the front of his tank, fingertips brushing the neckline, the other curling around the crook of his arm. he felt solid. warm. real. and when he shifted closer, you let him, your knee brushing his thigh, the space between you finally disappearing. he kissed you like he wanted to learn the shape of your mouth.

like he’d been waiting for a reason.

his tongue brushed yours gently, testing, and the small sound you made in your throat. half gasp, half surprise. made him pull you even closer. not with force. with need.

your breathing got shaky. his lips trailed the corner of your mouth before returning to center again, deeper now, more open, more yes, more. you tilted your head, fingers sliding up to cup his jaw, and that’s when he exhaled against your skin, low and sweet and aching.

your bodies weren’t tangled, but they were close. everything touched. legs, hips, chests. nothing rushed. nothing messy. just slow, heavy kissing in a room where no one could see. no expectations. just you and him.

and the quiet feeling that maybe, just maybe, he’d wanted this for a while.

his hands moved first. not greedy, not rushed, but more sure now. like the kiss had unlocked something in him. his fingers slid down from your hair to your jaw, thumb grazing your cheek like he couldn’t believe you were really there. he kissed you again, deeper this time, tongue parting your lips like he was testing how far you’d let him go.

you let him.

god, you let him. lips opening with a quiet sigh, the kind that slipped into his mouth and made his hand twitch against your skin.

your body shifted toward him instinctively, one leg brushing up over his, hooking at his thigh just barely. not fully on top of him, but close. too close to call it innocent. the fabric of your sweats brushed his tank, thin layers between the heat already building between you.

his breath hitched.

he pulled back just slightly, forehead leaning against yours, lips swollen, voice raw.

a: “you sure?”

your chest rose with a shaky breath. the air between you was charged. too hot, too heavy, too real. and yet you nodded.

you: “y-yeah..”

he kissed you again. slower, firmer, like your answer did something to him. his hands dropped to your waist, warm and steady, gripping the hem of your tank. not tugging. just resting there. waiting. you shifted forward in answer, hips brushing his, and he groaned. soft, muffled, into your mouth.

his hand slipped under your shirt.

fingers warm, moving up your sides so slow it made your whole body clench. his touch wasn’t rough, wasn’t even sexual yet. just exploring. learning the shape of your ribs, the softness of your skin, the way you shivered when his thumb grazed the underside of your bra.

he kissed down now. along your jaw, your neck, the spot under your ear that made your breath catch and fingers grip his hoodie tighter. his lips were soft, open, leaving slow, burning kisses down the side of your throat as your head tipped back to give him more. you whispered his name. barely.

and he shivered.

a: “fuck…”

your tank was pushed up now, fabric bunching just under your chest, and his hands were trembling slightly against your waist like he was trying to keep himself from doing too much, too fast. but your body was already pressing into his, needing more. hips shifting, legs tangling, lips searching for his again like you couldn’t bear even a second apart.

he let you climb into his lap slowly, hands steady on your thighs, lips back on yours in seconds. the kiss turned hotter, deeper, breath catching, tongues brushing, fingers gripping tighter.

the chain around his neck was cold where it brushed your skin, a sharp contrast to how warm the rest of him felt. solid under you, eyes fluttering closed, hands sliding further down your back until they were splayed just above your ass.

and still, he didn’t rush.

he just held you there. kissed you like he was scared to stop. kissed you like this was a secret you both needed to keep.

his fingers traced your back beneath the tank, slow lines up your spine that made you shiver, then dipped down again to rest just above the waistband of your sweats. not pushing. just holding.

your thighs were folded around him, knees on either side of his hips, bodies flushed close but not grinding yet. not quite. it was enough to feel the heat of him though. enough to feel the subtle shift in his breathing when your chest pressed into his, when your hands slid under the edge of his tank to touch bare skin for the first time.

he was warm. solid. flexing slightly under your fingertips like he wasn’t used to being touched that soft.

you: “can i…?”

your voice cracked halfway through, but you didn’t need to finish.

he nodded once. slow. lips parted. gaze locked on yours.

you lifted his tank, pushed it up gently, and he helped, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside without breaking eye contact. the chain slid back against his collarbone, now glinting directly against skin. your palms flattened over his chest, tracing the lean muscle, the dip between his pecs, the warm stretch of his torso down to his ribs.

he looked wrecked. already.

eyes half-lidded, jaw tight, breath shaky as your hands moved over him like you were trying to understand every inch.

his hands returned the favor. fingers slipping beneath your tank again, this time with more purpose. they slid up your stomach, slow and steady, until his thumbs grazed the swell of your breasts. he paused. looked at you.

a: “okay?”

you nodded, breath caught in your throat, and he moved. lifted the tank gently over your head, leaving you in nothing but the soft lace of your bra. his hands stilled again at your sides, eyes sweeping over you like he didn’t know where to look first.

a: “fuck, you’re…”

he didn’t finish. just leaned in and kissed you again. deeper this time, his tongue stroking yours slow and dirty, hands finally sliding up to cup your chest over the lace. his thumbs brushed your nipples through the fabric and you gasped softly, body arching into him like instinct.

you could feel him now. properly. hard beneath you, shifting slightly like he was trying to stay patient but your soft little noises were testing every ounce of control.

his lips broke from yours to kiss down your neck again, tongue dragging along your pulse, teeth just barely grazing your skin.

a: “you’re driving me insane.”

his hands moved behind you, unclipping your bra with one smooth flick. so careful, so soft. and you let the straps slip down your arms.

bare now, skin to skin, you felt everything. the way his hands cupped you, full and warm, the way his mouth dropped to your chest and pressed slow, open kisses between them, then lower. his breath was shaky against your skin. reverent. like he wanted to worship you but was still afraid to go too far too fast.

your hands threaded into his hair, tugging gently, and his lips finally closed over your nipple. tongue flicking slow. sucking just enough to make your thighs clench tight around him.

you gasped. hips grinding once against him by accident, your first real slip. his head tilted up, lips still parted, eyes dark and steady.

a: “baby…”

a whisper. half warning. half praise. he sat up a little, one arm firm around your waist now, holding you close, the other trailing down your back and over your hip.

a: “tell me if you want me to stop.”

you shook your head instantly. breathless. dizzy. his fingers dipped beneath your waistband, slow and careful. your breath hitched as his palm settled low over your hips, just enough pressure to let you feel it. his touch dragging the band of your sweats down a few inches, knuckles grazing the edge of your panties.

he paused. eyes flicking up. watching your face like it held the final green light.

a: “still good?”

you nodded, eyes wide, lips parted.

you: “y-yes. please.”

his mouth twitched. like he was trying to smile but couldn’t, not with how tense his jaw was. not with how hard he was under you, still untouched.

he pulled your sweats down slow, sliding them past your hips until they bunched around your thighs. you shifted to help, and he made this sound. low, shaky, guttural in the back of his throat when he saw the wet spot already blooming through your panties.

his fingers hovered there. barely touching.

a: “fuck.”

he dragged the pad of one finger up the center seam, slow enough to make your eyes flutter, your thighs twitch.

a: “you’re soaked.”

his voice was wrecked now. rough and low and full of disbelief. like this was doing something to him. he leaned in again, kissing you hard. no hesitation this time. his hand slipped beneath your panties, finally touching you skin to skin, middle finger sliding between your folds like he’d been dreaming of it.

you gasped into his mouth. body jerking. 

a: “relax.”

he whispered it into your mouth, kissing you again, slower now as he rubbed soft circles over your clit. not fast. not rough. just enough to make your hips rock into his hand. he pulled back to look at you, chest heaving, eyes dark and locked on your lips.

a: “you look so good.”

his forehead dropped to yours, breath mixing with yours as he slid a finger inside you. slow, deep, curling just slightly. your whole body arched. you moaned, breathless.

you: “oh my god…”

he shushed you gently, kissing your cheek, your neck, his voice shaking now too.

a: “i got you, baby. just let me make you feel good.”

his other hand gripped your thigh, pulling it higher around his waist. the friction between you got thicker. his hard cock pressing against your soaked panties as his fingers moved inside you, pumping slow, thumb circling your clit in rhythm.

you rocked against him without even thinking. whimpering into his shoulder, mouth open, hands in his hair, on his back, everywhere. trying to hold on.

he kissed your chest again. your nipple. sucked slow, moaned against it.

your hips started chasing him. rolling into every stroke of his fingers, needy now, panting, mouth spilling quiet, desperate sounds into the space between you.

you: “anton- please- fuck-”

his forehead dropped to your shoulder, teeth pressing soft against your skin.

a: “you’re close, huh?”

you couldn’t even speak. just nodded, thighs trembling, one hand clutching the back of his neck like you’d fall apart without it. he fucked you slow with his fingers, lips on your chest, his voice in your ear.

a: “don’t hold it in, baby. let go. let me feel you.”

you came with a cry, whole body curling into him, hips twitching, thighs squeezing tight around his waist. his fingers didn’t stop until you were gasping, until the aftershocks made your body shake in his arms.

he kissed you again. softer now. tongue brushing yours like he wasn’t done yet.

a: “you good?”

you: “mhm.”

barely a whisper. he smirked, finally.

a: “then lie back.”

you didn’t even realize he’d tugged his sweats down until you felt it. warm skin, thick length pressed between your thighs, just barely brushing where you were still dripping from his fingers.

your eyes flicked down, catching a glimpse of it. flushed, heavy, so hard. your stomach flipped.

you: “oh-…”

a: “yeah?”

he was watching your face like it would break him. like if you flinched, he’d stop. even now, when his tip was slipping through your folds. gathering your slick, teasing your entrance. he held himself back. breathing hard. arms caged around your waist like you’d disappear.

a: “we can stop if you want.”

you: “no.”

your voice was soft, but certain.

you: “i want you. anton.”

that did it.

his head dipped, mouth finding yours again. hungrier this time. his tongue tangled with yours, groaning low as he started to push in. your hands gripped his shoulders, nails dragging into his skin, thighs trembling around his waist.

the stretch made your mouth fall open. not painful, just full. every inch dragged a sound from your throat you couldn’t hold in.

a: “fuck, you’re tight- shit-”

he buried himself slow. all the way. hips flush against yours, forehead pressed to yours like he was using you to breathe. you gasped, walls fluttering around him, so overwhelmed you didn’t even know where to touch, his shoulders? his face?

he didn’t move right away. just held you. cock throbbing inside as he kissed the corner of your mouth, whispering. 

a: “you feel… insane. you’re okay?”

you nodded. he was so careful at first, just rolling his hips in shallow strokes, letting you feel him. letting your body adjust. every pull made your back arch, every push made your mouth drop open in a whimper.

he slid a hand under your thigh, lifting it higher to change the angle. the next thrust hit deeper. your moan came out broken.

a: “that’s it. just like that, baby.”

he moved a little faster. lips on your neck. chest to chest, skin sticking with sweat as the heat built. it wasn’t rushed. it wasn’t loud. just the sound of your breathing, the wet drag of his cock inside you, and his soft, wrecked voice every time you clenched around him.

a: “you feel so fucking good.”

every thrust hit just right, making your whole body shake. the friction, the stretch, the way his chain swung and hit your chest each time his hips met yours.

you: “anton- i’m gon-”

a: “cum. cum for me, baby.”

you shattered around him, pulsing tight, crying out into his shoulder. he groaned deep, hips stuttering, losing rhythm as you clenched again. and he spilled into you with a low curse, fucking it in slow, riding out every last twitch.

he stayed inside you for a long second. catching his breath. face buried in your neck.

a: “fuck.”

his voice was hoarse. spent.

a: “you okay?”

you: “y-yes.”

barely audible.

he kissed your shoulder. your cheek. your lips. over and over. like he wasn’t done. like he couldn’t be done. and honestly… neither were you.

he hadn’t said much right after. just pulled you into his chest, slow and careful like you’d break if he touched too hard. kissed your forehead. wiped the sweat from your hairline. held you like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. now? it was quiet.

but not awkward.

just… heavy. his thumb brushed over your skin. your tank top long gone, and you were only half-covered by the blanket. anton hadn’t even bothered to put his sweats back on. just laid there in his briefs, hair sticking to his forehead.

he tilted his head to look at you, that same unreadable expression he always had, but softer this time. eyes warmer. like he’d felt something shift too.

a: “that… wasn’t just sex.”

your breath hitched.

you: "it wasn’t.”

he looked relieved when you said it. like he didn’t have to keep pretending he didn’t care. his fingers trailed down your side, lazy. tracing the curve of your waist, the soft dip of your stomach.

a: “you were perfect.”

you blushed. turned your face into his neck. he laughed. real and quiet and a little raspy. then he tugged you closer, thigh between your legs again. the night felt like a dream that had only begun.

© seventeensbabye: all rights reserved! reposting/modifying of any fic, or piece of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed! translations are not allowed.

[2i1han]

see you again | anton lee

pairing : camp host!anton x f!reader/oc addressed as wen ⭑ wc : 5.2k

tags : summer love, childhood sweethearts reunion, coming of age, soft romance (?), fluff

playlist : i wait for you / alex g , to all of you / syd matters , skinny love / bon iver , somethin stupid / frank sinatra , oldest trick in the book / matt maltese , intolewd / matt maltese , photograph / ed sheeran , cigarette daydreams / cage the elephant

remembering a boy from your childhood during a three-day summer trip, you return to the same camp from 16 years ago hoping to piece together the memories.

growing up, you had your fair share of friends. you were the kind of kid who'd wave at strangers and start conversations on the swings. outgoing, chatty, always the first to suggest a game of tag or hide and seek. the neighborhood kids adored you. some even called you the "mayor" of your street. at one point or another, nearly all of them had been your playmate, even if just for a single afternoon.

you don’t really remember much before the age of eight, except for one kid.

you were five when your parents took you camping to a forested site hours away from the city. a trip that was supposed to be ordinary, just a short weekend surrounded by pine trees and buzzing cicadas. the campsite had the smell of firewood and damp grass, and the lake glimmered under the summer sun. that was when you met a boy who changed everything, even if you wouldn’t remember it clearly for years.

he was around your age, with chubby cheeks and grass stains on his shorts. his hair stuck out in funny places like he had been rolling on the ground.

"hi," he shyly approached when he saw you standing by your parents' tent. "i like your shoes."

you blinked down at your pink sneakers, confused. "they got wet."

"that’s okay. mine are dirty."

he held out a rock with a shiny stripe in the middle. "this is for you. it looks like candy but it’s not. i found it by the river."

you nodded solemnly and took the rock like it was treasure. and from that moment, you were inseparable.

you ran around the campsite, chasing butterflies and pretending the trees were giant towers. you dug for pretend treasures, you played hide and seek, though you always gave away your hiding spot by giggling. you climbed the same stump over and over like it was a castle.

when your parents sat down by the fire to talk and laugh, the two of you built a tiny fort out of sticks and pretended it was a bakery. you made mud-pies and "soup" with leaves and pine needles, serving them to your parents.

on the second day, he grabbed your hand and tugged you toward the flower-dotted clearing near the edge of the forest.

"let’s play wedding," he said, eyes wide with excitement.

"what's a wedding?" you asked, blinking.

"it’s when you get married and be friends forever and eat cake."

you paused, then smiled. "okay, but i wanna wear a dress."

"you can pretend," he said, and gave you a little flower—a forget-me-not—clumsily plucked from the grass. he connected it and pushed it gently onto your pinky.

"this is your ring. it’s magic, so you gotta keep it safe."

you held it up like it was made of diamonds. "now we’re married?"

he nodded seriously. "yes, i’m the prince and you're the princess."

he picked up a stick from the ground, not too long, with a bend at the end and held it up like a wand. "we're married now," he declared, puffing out his chest. "the spell is complete!"

"what kind of spell?" you asked, eyes wide.

"a forever spell," he said, matter-of-factly. "so we can be best friends and play every day."

he tapped your shoulder with the stick like he was knighting you. you giggled and grabbed a twig of your own, mimicking his movements.

"and now i crown you king of mud pies," you said.

he burst out laughing. "then you're the queen of tree forts!"

you both laughed so hard you ended up collapsing into the grass, side by side, staring up at the patches of blue sky peeking through the branches. a dragon-shaped cloud drifted by, and you pointed at it at the same time.

"jinx!" he yelled.

and then you raced to see who could reach the stump first, already forgetting who won last time.

that night, you sat beside him by the campfire. he gave you the last marshmallow.

but by the third morning, his family had packed up early. you remember waking to find their tent gone, only an empty space left behind. no goodbye. just the smell of burnt logs and the forget-me-not still tucked under your pillow.

after that you never asked your parents about him. not once. you only mentioned the campsite again when you turned eight, asking if you’d ever go back there someday. but when a new campsite opened closer to the town, just minutes away, your dad chose that instead. you never returned to that faraway forest again. you even forgot what it looked like, or what it was called.

life went on.

sixteen years passed. you were now in your third year of university. childhood felt like another lifetime, buried beneath the noise of lectures, parties, and leaving your hometown behind. you weren’t sure whether to visit your parents this summer, especially with friends inviting you on a beach trip. but in the end, something pulled you back.

it had been a year since you last saw your family, so you booked the trip home.

and that one decision , that small, almost random choice would change your life more than you could ever imagine.

the cab slowed at the familiar street. your parents' house stood there just as you remembered: a cozy craftsman-style bungalow painted in a warm, earthy yellow, with white trimming that caught the sunlight. it wasn’t grand, but it had the kind of comfort that hugged you before you even stepped inside.

you reached for the neatly folded cash, handed it to the driver, then stepped out with your single luggage and backpack in tow.

climbing the porch stairs, you opened the door slowly and peeked around the living room. there, by the kitchen counter, were your parents, sipping coffee and talking.

"i’m home!" you called out, voice rising with excitement.

your mom turned first, eyes lighting up as she put down her mug. "wen, sweetheart!"

your dad stood, grinning, as both of them pulled you into a hug. your mom cradling your face and your dad giving your back a pat so strong it knocked a laugh out of you.

"we didn’t think you’d come home this summer," your mom beamed. "we missed you."

"i missed you too," you said, pouting a little as your dad took your backpack and wheeled your luggage upstairs.

"come on now," your mom said, already walking back to the kitchen. "you’re just in time. we made breakfast."

you followed her, the scent of eggs and toast filling your nose, the warm kitchen light casting a soft glow over the countertops. you began to talk. about classes, your professors, the annoying group project that never ended, but somewhere in the back of your mind, the memory of that boy hung around.

soon enough, you and your parents had gathered around a peaceful dinner table. the clink of utensils and warm scent of seasoned steak filled the space as laughter passed easily between you and your dad, your conversations ranged from random stories to summer vacation plans.

"how about another camping trip?" your dad suggested, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of steak.

you shrugged at first, nonchalant. but then a vague memory stirred—of trees towering above your five-year-old self, of pine needles on your shoes, and a quiet little boy who'd once been your entire world in two short days.

"in that old campsite?" you looked up from your plate, browa lifted.

your dad shook his head, eyes still on the steak he was slicing. "nope. i meant the usual site, just a few minutes away."

you pouted a little without realizing, pushing peas to one side of your plate, then corns to the other. your parents exchanged quick, knowing glances.

"why?" your mom asked with a playful smirk. "do you want to go back there?"

you narrowed your eyes at her. "no, i'm just curious. we only went once."

"you know," your dad said, a grin tugging at his lips, "when we first and last went to that campsite, you were five. this small." he gestured with both hands beside him, chuckling. "there was this boy your age. he was the son of the couple in the tent next to ours. you two were like two peas in a pod!"

"oh, you even played weddings!" your mom added with a laugh, leaning back in her chair and dabbing her mouth with a napkin.

you listened, smiling as the memories slowly began piecing themselves together— images of flower crowns, tiny feet running across crunchy leaves, and a shy boy with black clothes and quiet voice.

"really?" you asked, leaning forward with interest.

"really," your dad nodded. "and the boy even gave you—what's it called again?"

"myosotis," your mom answered. "forget-me-nots. he put one on your finger like a ring."

you couldn't help the small laugh that left your lips. "that's actually kind of sweet."

just as you were about to say more, your mom's face lit up as something clicked in her head. she stood up with a sudden spark of excitement. "oh! we figured you'd eventually ask about it when you got older, so…"

she walked over to the living room and opened one of the cabinets near the back. you turned slightly in your chair, watching her rummage through the rear shelves until she pulled out a small wooden box. she brought it back and placed it gently on the table.

"we had one flower preserved in resin," she said, flipping open the lid.

inside was a silver ring. at the center was a smooth resin dome, and nestled perfectly inside was a single blue forget-me-not.

your eyes widened as she placed it into your palm. "thank you!" you grinned, slipping the ring onto your finger. it was adjustable, and it fit just right.

you held your hand up, admiring the little flower frozen in time. "this is really pretty."

"told you," your mom said, giving your dad a nod as they both watched your reaction.

as you closed the box and placed it beside your plate, you suddenly remembered what you meant to ask earlier.

"by the way… what was the name of that campsite?"

"camp windlow," your dad replied.

you hesitated, then asked, "mind if i spend a day there?"

they both nodded without hesitation.

"go on," your mom said. "just don't forget to come home and spend the rest of summer with us."

you smiled, feeling the ring on your finger—light, and comfortable. "i won't."

the next morning, you got up early, only to find your father already awake in the kitchen, sipping coffee and flipping through the newspaper. you had planned on taking a cab, but the moment he spotted your packed bag, he stood from his seat with a familiar look that said "you're not wasting money when i have a perfectly working car."

so instead, you found yourself in the passenger seat with one large bag, a singular tent, a portable table, and just enough food for a night. your dad drove you through the winding, tree-lined roads until you reached the trail entrance. he pulled over by the wooden gate and waved you off with a smile as you stepped out.

"call me if anything," he said as you nodded. waving before driving away.

you turned toward the gate. it stood quietly in the midst of trees, like a threshold between now and then. off to the side, an old but well-maintained wooden sign read: camp windlow trail

you noticed a bus parked nearby, likely for a group of students already at the site. you gave it a passing glance before starting up the trail. it was a short hike. just a few minutes, and then you saw it another wooden sign greeted you at the clearing, nailed to a tree: welcome to camp windlow

the space opened up into a cozy camp ground, surrounded by cabins and a cluster of trees. off to the side near the entrance was an old camper van with a sign hanging beneath a shaded awning: camp host.

you made your way to the rv’s side window. the soft crunch of leaves beneath your shoes was the only sound. you tapped the small bell on the built-in counter and tiptoed to peek through the screen, but the space inside looked empty.

just as you were about to turn around, you caught movement in your peripheral. a tall guy near one of the cabins—mid-conversation with a student—looked in your direction. he said something to the student, nodded, then jogged toward you.

"good afternoon, miss. welcome to camp windlow," he greeted with a small nod.

his dark, tousled hair fell over his forehead, framing gentle features. his eyes had that warm, sleepy crescent shape when he smiled. he wore a loose, off-white baseball jersey with thin black pinstripes, and beneath it, the collar of a black shirt peeked out.

"hi, uh—yes. are you the camp host?" you asked.

"yes, miss. sorry i wasn’t at the station. some students needed help with their cabins. i’m the only volunteer on duty today," he said, voice soft and low like it could disappear if you weren’t listening close enough.

you gave a small nod. you had more to ask, but decided to keep it simple. "i just wanted to check where i can set my tent up. i’m not renting a cabin."

"got it," he said, then gestured ahead for you to follow. "come on, i’ll show you the tent area."

you followed him past the cabins, toward a grassy clearing beneath tall trees. the space was flat and quiet, the sunlight filtering through the canopy tree above. you could see the river nearby, shimmering under the noon, and a small wooden shed sat near its edge.

"you can pitch your tent here. it’s a good spot. but let me know if you’d prefer somewhere else," he offered, pausing to look back at you.

"no, actually this is great already," you said, giving a casual wave of your hand.

"cool," he smiled, continuing. "there’s a water pump near the cabins if you need it. just a heads up—no wandering after nine."

you nodded, noting the direction he pointed in.

"thank you," you said.

"how many days will you be camping?" he asked.

"just a day."

"alright. i’ll log you in real quick so i know you’re out here," he said, turning toward the rv. then he paused, glancing back. "oh- and your full name?"

"wendelin hale." you replied.

he blinked, as if a bulb went off in his head before nodding, jogging back toward the camper van.

you dropped your bag down and took a breath, turning to look at the view of the river. it was quiet and beautiful. familiar in some way. you looked around, piecing together scattered memories, smiling to yourself in recognition. this might’ve been the exact spot where your parents had pitched the tent years ago. across from it was probably where the boy’s family stayed. and in that nearby park space where the two of you had played wedding.

you chuckled softly and wandered closer, tapping your hand against the trees as you passed, letting your fingers graze the bark like an old habit.

when you turned back toward your spot, you caught the camp host looking up from the logbook through the rv’s side window. he glanced at you. you smiled politely, and he returned it before lowering his gaze back to the page.

he looked out toward the area you’d just visited, staring for a moment with a knowing smile. then, he went back to work.

you unzipped your bag and pulled out the tent, sighing as you knelt by it. it had been years, and you barely remembered how to set it up. you fiddled with the poles and fabric, trying to recall the steps, but it quickly turned into a mess.

from the rv, the man noticed you struggle. he stepped out and jogged over.

"need help with that?" he asked.

you gave him an embarrassed smile and nodded. "yes please."

he smiled back and knelt beside the tangled tent, hands moving skillfully.

"i'm guessing this is your first time camping alone?" he said as he worked, not looking up.

"yeah, just a day of trip down memory lane," you replied, watching him work, trying to learn.

"places like this can really hold onto the kind of memories you want to relive," he said, echoing your thoughts.

"deep talk," you said with a faint smile.

before you knew it, the tent was standing, sleek and sturdy, a perfect black triangle in front of you.

"well, i could say i’m also here for a memory lane trip," he said, standing and dusting off his trousers. "there you go."

you nodded, impressed. "thank you."

"of course. miss hale, right?"

"yes," you replied, smiling. "but no need for formalities."

"just trying to stay professional."

"okay... sir—?"

"lee," he said. "anton lee."

"alright, sir lee," you chuckled.

anton smiled at that, then looked at you more closely. "you seem socially entertaining for someone camping solo."

you shrugged as you started setting up your small foldable table. "not really. i just prefer solo trips like this so i can unwind peacefully."

"fair," anton said, nodding. he stepped closer and unzipped the tent door, folding it up neatly to keep it open. "want help with the rest?"

"yes, thank you."

he helped you with your things in silence, arranging everything carefully. after a moment, you spoke again.

"you mentioned you’re here just for a quick nostalgia trip?"

"yeah, well… i figured i could also volunteer for the summer. extra credits for uni, you know," anton replied.

"oh, so you’re a student?"

"yup. just like those people over there." he nodded toward the cabins where students were busy setting up for camp. "and you?"

"i’m in uni too," you said.

"cool! just around here?" he asked as you both kept working on your setup.

"not exactly. my hometown’s a small town somewhere around here in oregon, but i study in portland. five hours away."

"you sound pretty established," anton smiled.

"not really," you shrugged, standing once you were finished setting up, noticing anton was done too. "still stuck here in the same state."

"hey, at least it’s something," anton said as he walked toward the riverside. you followed him, and together you sat in the open wooden shed.

"so, what about you?" you asked.

"really complicated," anton chuckled. "my hometown’s all the way in new jersey."

"that’s basically a plane ride away," you gasped. "how’d you end up here?"

"like i said, complicated. i just got back here after many years. i also decided to study around portland."

"and you volunteered as a camp host here." you laughed.

"obviously," anton nodded. "you know, you kind of seem familiar."

you looked at him, that same strange feeling rising inside you too. "yeah, you do too."

"what’s your name again? wendelin?"

"mhm, why?"

"nothing, just… i used to know someone with a similar name. well, not exactly the same, but she's called wen."

"that could be wendy or something else. wen’s a common nickname."

"i know."

"so, you think i seem familiar just because of my name?"

"maybe?" anton shrugged.

"well, you seem familiar too, somehow," you said, watching him, waiting to see if he wanted you to explain. "the first time i came here, i was about five," you started. "i had a friend, but i don’t remember his name."

"was it a girl?" anton asked.

"no, no." you shook your head, smiling at the memory. "we used to play a lot around here. we even played wedding. it’s cute but also kind of embarrassing. my parents teased me for it."

you looked down at your hand, twisting the ring on your finger.

anton noticed. "he gave me a forget-me-not flower ring. my mom even had it preserved in resin," you explained, showing it to him.

"eerie. i remember having the same memory," he said. "same place, same story. that’s why i came back here, to volunteer this summer."

"if i didn’t know your name, i’d swear that boy was you," you chuckled. "but i don’t think i ever heard the name anton back then."

"i get that," he smiled. after a pause, anton looked at you with a spark in his eyes.

"is it chanyoung?"

and as if remembering a song you've been searching for your entire life, it clicked in your head.

"chanyoung-ah, come here! it's time to eat!"

her mom's voice echoed in your memory. you could see him—five years old, turning to wave at you. his small feet kicked up dust as he jogged across the field to his mother’s table, where bowls of food are laid.

"come!" his mom then called out to you, her warm smile beaming under the shade of the pine trees. "wen? do you want to come over and eat with chanyoung?"

you’d nodded excitedly, cradling the bowl of leaf soup in both hands as you placed it carefully down by the tree where you’d been playing, then ran toward them with light steps.

you stared out at the river, its surface glinting under the sun. you smiled to yourself. a wide, happy, almost disbelieving smile, as your eyes visibly brightened up in recognition.

"chanyoung!" you beamed at him as he did too, his eyes crinkling with that same lighthearted smile. "since when were you anton?"

anton let out a chuckle, the corners of his lips curling into a smile that made your heart slightly jump. he glanced at you briefly before turning his gaze back toward the river ahead, hands resting loosely in his pockets.

"well, when we settled here in the u.s., i had to go for an english name. so, i pretty much went by my english name my entire life outside our house."

"i would've... never remembered." your voice came out quiet.

"that's on me," he replied with a smile. "it's nice to meet you again, wen. i kind of had a hunch when you started wandering off to specific spots here earlier."

you smiled to yourself, looking down shyly, hiding the stupid grin spreading across your face. you swung your feet a little from your seat, your heels lightly tapping the wooden platform beneath.

"so, that’s why you looked familiar. you still kinda look the same as when we were kids," you said, grinning up at him.

"well, you changed. your hair used to be some kind of lighter blonde and now you’re brunette," he pointed out. "but your eyes are still the same pretty shade of hazel."

"you remember that?" you turned to him, surprised, trying to keep your tone from sounding too delighted.

"of course." anton sighed before hopping off the seat. "you wanna walk around?"

you hummed and then nodded, hopping off your seat too. leaves crunched beneath your shoes as the two of you wandered off, the camp fading behind you as you stepped deeper into the quieter parts of the grounds.

you and anton walked around the wide area, the soft rustle of wind through tall grass and tree branches filling the silence between your conversations. every step brought you to an old spot. you even unlocked more memory you've completely forgotten. thanks to anton, who seemingly had remembered everything.

"that’s where you scratched your knee," anton said, pointing toward the root of a large tree, half-exposed in the dirt. "you tripped there. i thought you were gonna cry but you laughed."

you furrowed your brows for a moment, but then a smile bloomed across your face. the picture came back to you—your five-year-old self giggling with a scraped knee and grass in your hair.

"wow, you remembered again?"

"of course," anton nodded, walking beside you, relaxed. "i considered you as someone important in my life. you were also my first friend back then. i never really interacted with anyone as a kid, but you didn't scare me, and i found a friend in you."

your heart warmed at anton’s words. you looked down for a moment, suddenly feeling a little guilty. not for forgetting completely, but for remembering less than he did.

"i’m sorry i couldn't remember a lot," you said.

"don’t be sorry for anything." he waved his hands dismissively, his voice light. "if anything, i should be sorry for suddenly leaving."

you turned your head slightly toward him, curious.

"we were five and things happen," he continued. "the babysitter of my younger brother who's a baby that time called my parents that day, saying he got sick and was hospitalized. so we had to go back home earlier than we planned to."

"that’s okay. i understand." you paused, then looked up at him with a smile that tried to push away the lingering guilt. "well, at least we’re here now again, right?"

anton looked at you with soft eyes, his expression calm before nodding.

"i hope i don't come off as weird but—" anton paused, stopping beside the path. his voice dropped to a murmur. "i feel... unexplainably comforted. happy, even. you're the reason i came back here."

you looked at him closely, eyes searching. his gaze never left yours.

"why?" you asked. "is it really that important to you?"

you waited for an answer, but instead, anton simply exhaled softly through his nose and offered a lopsided smile. "it's almost sunset," he said, glancing toward the golden sky. "you shouldn't miss the view from your spot." then, without another word, he turned and walked back toward the main site.

that evening, the two of you sat on the log seat beside the crackling campfire. a few snacks between you, and hours spent sharing stories from your shared childhood. you told each other what life had become. he shared that he'd taken up swimming in university, dabbled in instruments, and, at his core, remained the same introverted boy you remembered.

anton didn't seem surprised when you told him you'd become an art major and that you had a decent circle of friends.

"i always knew you'd be an artist. you used to draw cool things for me, remember?" he paused, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "i still have them, actually. my parents kept a box of my things. your drawings are in there."

as the night wore on, you realized how naturally your bond had rekindled. anton had always been interesting and it became clear that the years hadn't eroded what once connected you. you both laughed, talked, and forgot about the time.

you looked at him with guilt simmering behind your words. "i hope you don't think i saw you as someone unimportant."

anton smiled gently, reaching out to pat your shoulder. "i never did. because if you did think of me as someone unremarkable in your life, you wouldn’t have bothered coming back here..." he then nodded toward your hand. "...or wearing that flower ring again."

"and..." he spoke again, but then hesitated, as if something weighed on his chest. "and it's getting late," he said instead, standing up. "i should head back to the van."

you didn't push as you just nodded. "do you want to exchange contacts?" you offered, standing up as well.

"that'd be nice," he said, pulling out his phone. you exchanged numbers, and the night passe from there.

in the morning, you got up early. students were already busy around the campsite as you sipped on a warm coffee. you looked over at the van and saw anton setting up his things. you smiled at each other.

"good morning!" you called out.

"good morning," he called back. but you didn't hear him. you only saw the shape of the words on his lips. you smiled anyway and went on with your day.

anton went to his daily morning work, while you joined a group for exercise. later, you packed everything up. new clothes on, your tent dismantled and tucked back into your tent bag. it was time to leave.

anton approached, his morning work done. "leaving already, i guess?"

"yeah," you smiled tight-lipped, slightly disappointed. "told my parents i'd only be out for a day. my dad's picking me up too."

anton nodded in understanding. "i already have your number, so i don't think there's anything to be sad about."

he helped with your bags until your phone buzzed with a notification from your dad—he was near.

"i should get going," you said, sliding your phone into your jeans pocket.

"i'll walk you down," anton offered.

he lifted your tent bag and your folded table while you carried your own backpack. the walk down the trail was peaceful, though the thought of saying goodbye made your chest feel heavy.

by the roadside, anton carefully set down your things in front of you.

"let's keep in touch," you said.

"sounds nice," he replied. a second of silence followed. then, he spoke again.

"and—it is. it is that important to me because you promised me, and i held onto that."

you blinked, confused, watching as anton smile.

"you've forgotten," he said. "but the evening before the morning we left, you told me something by the riverside."

he looked down briefly, then up at you again.

"you promised that you'd see me again. that we'd be friends forever—because we're married."

anton laughed a little.

"and... i'm happy you didn't break it even though you forgot about it."

the memory then struck you like a spark to dry wood. your small pinky held out to his.

"when we get home, i’ll see you again no matter what. because if we’re married, we’ll forever be friends."

the memory clicked into place like the last puzzle piece in a long-lost picture.

"i remember now," you said. smiling warmly back at anton.

then, a white car approached from the distance, pulling up just then. your dad rolled the window down, eyes landing on the two of you with a knowing, content smile as if he had seen this coming.

"did i make you wait?" he asked.

"just in time," you replied, opening the backseat door as anton helped load your things.

you then turned to him once more.

"i won't say goodbye."

"yeah. i won't, too," he said with a small smile. then, anton pulled you into a warm hug before letting go.

you opened the front seat door and got in. just before it closed, anton stepped forward.

"wen," he said, as you looked at him through the open window.

"see you again."

[nanaluvsyouu]

Get a guitar?

Random Anton texts!

Likes, comments and reblogs are really appreciated :)

not proof read

[fleurliz]

𝒯ired

【 ## 】    —   PAIRING    …    anton    x  fem!reader   ⋆     fluff    //   shirtless ton(again)    +     pet  names ,     …               —    m.list   ˖ 

The bed was cold.

You blinked a few times, still tucked in the mess of blankets you’d fallen asleep under with him. But your arms reached out and hit nothing but sheets. Your face scrunched as you turned around fully — empty. No anton. No warmth. No steady breathing in your ear or that slow little sleepy murmur he always did when you shifted beside him.

“…the hell,” you whispered to yourself, still raspy and pouty from sleep.

You dragged yourself out of bed, an oversized t-shirt swallowing your body, hair a little messy and steps wobbly. The apartment was dark, the faint hum of the fridge the only sound. And then—

Clink.

The soft sound of a spoon tapping something. You squinted toward the kitchen.

And there he was.

Anton, your sweet, sweet boy, standing by the counter with a glass of water and a tub of yogurt, shirtless in those grey sweats — the ones you swore he wore on purpose when he wanted to ruin your night’s peace. His hair was messy, like he’d been running his hands through it, his eyes still puffy with sleep.

You stared.

You always stared.

And then you moved, padding across the floor until you were behind him. You wrapped your arms around his waist from the back, face pressing between his shoulder blades with a soft little sigh.

He froze for a second. And then you felt the way his back shook with a quiet chuckle.“Couldn’t sleep without me, huh?”

his voice was husky, slow, laced in that late-night softness that made you melt every time.

“I woke up and you were gone,” you mumbled into his skin, already frowning. “Not cute. I was cold.”

He turned around slowly in your arms,

and his hands found your waist immediately — warm, big palms running lazy circles on the small of your back.

“I didn’t wanna wake you,” he said gently, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You looked so cute sleeping.”

You hugged him tighter, burying yourself into his chest. “Let’s go back to bed.”

He chuckled softly, letting you hold him like he was the blanket you’d been missing. His arms circled your waist again, pulling you in with this slow, sleepy strength that always felt so secure — like you could fall asleep standing up in his arms and it’d still be the safest place in the world.

“I was literally gone for 10 minutes,” he whispered into your hair.

“Too long,” you mumbled back. “Missed you.”

You felt his smile against your scalp, and he kissed your head, a little longer this time. “You’re so clingy when you’re sleepy.”

“Am not,” you grumbled, already burrowing further into him.

“You are,” he laughed gently, “but I like it.”

You were quiet for a moment, just letting yourself melt into his chest — the steady beat of his heart, the heat of his bare skin under your palms. His hand rubbed slow circles into your lower back, like he was trying to memorize the curve of you all over again.

And then, out of nowhere—

“Wait… why are you shirtless?” you suddenly asked, brows furrowing as you pulled back to look at him. “Isn’t it cold?”

He blinked, deadpan. “…You always steal the blanket.”

You gasped. “That’s not true—!”

“It is. I literally woke up freezing,” he said, fake serious. “You had all the covers wrapped around you like a sushi roll.”

You laughed — a sleepy, snorty giggle that made his heart do flips. And then your fingers brushed down his abs, featherlight. Not for any reason. Just… touch.

“Well, I’ll keep you warm now,” you said with a pout, reaching up to kiss his jaw — then his cheek — then the tip of his nose.

He blinked slowly, the tips of his ears pinking.

“…You’re not gonna let me eat my yogurt, are you.”

“Nope,” you said, all smug and clingy, tugging him back toward the bedroom by the waistband of his sweats. “You can have breakfast in the morning. Right now I need cuddles. Urgently.”

“Yes ma’am,” he sighed playfully — but there was no resistance.

Back under the covers, he tangled his legs with yours, pressed his chest to your back, and whispered, “Is this better?” against your neck.

You just hummed, half-asleep already.

“Best boyfriend ever,” you mumbled, and he smiled so hard it hurt.

He kissed your shoulder — and finally, finally let himself fall back asleep, now that his favorite girl was warm in his arms again.

—🤍 :: we’re getting less and less creative with those imagine name🔥 (idk if thats even the right word…)

[seventeensbabye]

⟡ ݁₊ . ˎˊ˗ 𝓒YBERSEX

ෆ ･ 𝓖ENRE: smuttt! ෆ ･ 𝓟ARING: anton lee x fem!reader

ෆ ･ 𝓦ARNINGS/𝓣AGS: sexting, phone sex, nudity, dirty talk, pet names (pretty girl, baby, babe, princess), masturbation (f/m solo), nudes, language, desperation.

ෆ ･ 𝓢YNOPSIS: anton is across the world, needy, desperate, missing you. and you are just as bad. what starts as a picture turns into much more... ෆ ･ 𝓦/𝓒: 1281

ෆ ･𝓜.LIST! & 𝓣AGLIST!

“and he dont even scroll through insta, unless he going through my pictures.”

you and anton have been together for a while. so much so that because of this random ass distance that got placed between you two, you call to send your hugs and kisses. only for a couple of months. he was on tour, most of the time you cant even call because of the timezones and man it sucks. but somehow, some way you two figure it out. he hates not talking to you, you’re his calm in the storm really. you’ve never been the type to send videos or pics of yourselves but recently you and him both have been extremely needy. its like your sex drive skyrockets when the two of you are apart. the not wanting to send pics or videos didn’t last long though. you’ve been desperate and anton has been STRESSED. i mean it gets so bad, he’ll call just to have you talk so he could sleep. that wasn’t enough anymore. the texts started to get desperate, hungry.

a: i need you. bad.

that was the text you got at 1 in the morning. it was late for him you assumed since he was sending texts like this. it didn’t cross your mind what he meant by it though. you stared at the screen for a second, half asleep, before responding back.

you: what do you need babe?

the bubbles appeared, then disappeared. anton was never the most confident saying things like this because he always lived with the worry of making you uncomfortable. little does he know, you’d do anything for him. extra when you’re feeling generous. the three dots appearing again. then a picture. nothing sexual, just him. in bed. the room was dark. his chin rested on his arm, you could tell he was shirtless. his hair fell over his eye, barely showing the other, he had his lips puckered in a pout. it was something about the picture. you couldn’t tell if he was asking for something or if he just wanted you to see him but, damn he was sexy. you responded back with a picture too, you were in his hoodie, chewing on the plastic part of the drawstring. hair messy, eyes tired. he took no time to respond.

a: you look pretty, baby.

you laughed before responding.

you: whatever.😒 u’re just saying that bc you miss me. a: i do, you’re saying that like you don’t miss me. you: u know i do. a: i like seeing you in my clothes, thats all. maybe, you could show me whats underneath.

you froze. he knew you slept with nothing on, just panties and a bra. you hesitated for the slightest bit before responding, you weren’t scared. you just didn’t expect it.

you: you just wanna see me in my underwear a: i’ve seen you with and without it on. 😔 you: so you want me to send a picture… 🤨 a: only if you're comfortable, babe.

you didn’t even feel nervous, you just pulled the blanket off. snapping a few pics of you in the mirror next to the bed with the hoodie on first. being a tease, flashing just enough to leave him speechless, and sent them to him. the dots appeared, disappearing quickly. appearing again, then disappearing again. you knew he was struggling, dying on the other side of the screen. then, you pulled off the hoodie. snapping pics of yourself sitting pretty in his favorite color. one specifically with your back arched on the bed. front view of course, head facing the mirror. you couldn’t give him all in one go right. just enough to make him want you more. you sent those with invisible ink. he read it but it sure did take him a while to respond.

a: fuck baby, i cant do this... you look so good. you: i know. 😉

you couldn’t even slip on the hoodie before he called. he didn’t even know how to speak the second he seen your still half naked body.

a: “i— you— i need to come home. i need to feel you, be in your skin.”

you just smiled pulling the hoodie back over your head. you could see the slight sadness in his eyes. he didn’t say anything about it though. he just sounded so wrecked. so desperate. so needy. you two talked the whole night. after that the pictures became more of a routine. not just from you, but from him as well. fresh out the shower, after practice, half nudes. it wasn't until you sent him a video of you dancing half naked in the mirror, nipples hard, poking through your lace bra, when he snapped. it was a while after that when he called, late breathless, only wanting to ‘hear the sound of your voice’ while he stayed silent. it wasn’t until you heard him whisper your name when you notice he was jerking off to you. you never thought he would be the type to do something of the sort but he was and you fucking loved it. you would call him just to hear him moan quietly into his blanket.

you had been touching yourself to him too, just off camera. it was one night when you slipped up. you were looking at some of the pics of him in the messages, pleasing yourself to the thought of him. you were loud, eyes rolling back, just hitting your climax when you started voice recording. how? you had no fucking clue, but you were too into it to notice you sent a 10 second voice note to him moaning his name. and too your luck anton was never slow at responding. he seen it the second you sent it. you hadn’t even came yet before he responded. that response letting you know exactly what you just did. you froze, hands shaking. 

a: damn you sound sexy, princess..

you didn't even respond, you could unsend it but what would that do for you? exactly, nothing. you just sat there, staring at the screen. then minutes after shock, he called, you answered quick. phone still sitting where you dropped it.

you: “im sorry, i did-”

a: “dont apologize, i loved it.”

he already sounded wrecked. voice low, rough. you just blinked. you didn’t know what to do in the moment. but the fucking sounds coming from the other side of the phone made it hard for you not to wanna continue. and that feeling in your stomach settled, your hands stopped shaking, you picked up the phone. hands moving slowly at the sound of his whispers and moans. you couldn’t hold back. your fingers moved faster, rubbing at your heat. your head falling back, he could see you. almost all of you, but you know what was the best part? him hearing you, your hand moved faster, rubbing harder. mouth open, his name slipping from your thoat. 

you: “f— ah— anton...”

a: “shit, please don't stop, pretty girl. cum for me baby.”

both your and his hand moving violently at the sound and sight of each other. moans and whimpers released from the back of your throats while you fucked yourselves on opposite sides of the screen. your back arched, his eyes rolled back. until, the both of you came for each other. hard, loud, bodies trembling. once you two finally came down from the high, you just laughed. neither of you thought it would get to that point, but you didn’t regret it. for the rest of the night you two just whispered sweet nothings and a bunch of ‘i love yous’ into each other's ear until the night ended.

꒰ঌtaglist! @angelhyuka @ykvdani @roe-sinning @taehyuns-biceps @rex-ie @hehebeanis @smiles4hyuck @pookie-20204 @raven-xoxo @mangalovesanime-blog @euiyox @guliexe

© seventeensbabye: all rights reserved! reposting/modifying of any fic, or piece of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed! translations are not allowe

[moonriizing]

Goodbye Summer | l.anton (18+)

Crazy what two years can do to a person. What do you mean the cutie pie, adorable ball of sunshine Chanyoung Lee, has turned into this tall, grumpy, and unfairly hot specimen who calls himself Anton?

Genre: childhood friends to lovers Pairing: Lee Chanyoung|Anton x afab!Reader Warnings: mature themes, explicit sexual content (18+) Notes: 19k words. Listening to Goodbye Summer by F(X) ft. D.O. Posted a little late because I got carried away, lol. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally, nor do I claim they would ever behave in real life like they were portrayed in this story. ALSO, if you see a similar story from a different blog for a different idol, that is me. xoxo, cal.

You rolled the car windows down, letting the salty air fill the car as you hummed along to the music playing through the speakers. It had been two years since you last made this drive, but every curve of the road was ingrained in your memory. You remembered how you used to count the palm trees as a kid, making up silly games to pass the time while your mom laughed at your endless energy. Back then, the beach house felt like the one constant in your summers, a place where time moved slower and the world outside didn’t matter.

Two years away felt like an eternity, but now, as the Lee family’s beach house came into view, it was like no time had passed at all.

Your mom stirred in the passenger seat, stretching as the car slowed down. “Did you sleep well?” you asked.

“I would’ve, if you hadn’t been singing off-key the entire time,” she replied, rolling her eyes playfully.

You gasped in mock offense. “Off-key? Excuse me, but that was a performance, mom. You’re just not cultured enough to appreciate my artistry.”

“Artistry, huh?” She laughed, shaking her head. “Is that what we're calling it now?”

You parked the car in front of the house, taking a moment to soak it in. The Lee family’s beach house looked exactly as it always had—whitewashed walls with a wide porch and tall windows that reflected the warm glow of the setting sun. For a second, it felt like you were stepping back in time, like the past two years hadn’t happened at all.

Aunt Hyejin was the first to greet you at the door, her arms wrapping tightly around you as she exclaimed, “Look at you! You’ve grown so much! You’ve gotten prettier too.”

You laughed, leaning into her embrace. “I could say the same about you, Auntie. You are glowing! What’s your secret?”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she teased, brushing your hair back to study your face. She squeezed your cheeks lightly before kissing your forehead. “Come in, come in! Junyoung is dying to show off how tall he’s gotten.”

Junyoung was quick to make good on his mom’s words, bounding down the stairs with a grin. He too greeted you with a hug, crouching down to your smaller frame.

“Told you I’d be taller than you one day!” he declared, puffing out his chest.

“And I told you I’d deny it when it happened,” you shot back, ruffling his hair and gasping because you had to tiptoe to reach the top of his head. “Wow. You really did grow up.”

The house itself was almost exactly as you remembered it. The same yellow curtains fluttered in the breeze, and the faint smell of ocean air and Aunt Hyejin’s cooking permeated the halls. It was comforting, familiar.

But there was one thing—or rather, one person—who didn’t match your memories.

He was sitting on the sofa when you walked into the living room, one leg crossed over the other, a phone in hand, and not the slightest hint of acknowledgement on his face. His hair was darker, longer, falling into his eyes in a way that seemed deliberate. His clothes—a loose linen shirt and tailored shorts—looked like they belonged to someone who spent their summers at yacht clubs, not building sandcastles on the beach.

“Chanyoung, greet them properly!” Aunt Hyejin chided with both affection and exasperation in her tone.

The man on the sofa finally looked up, his eyes meeting yours. For a moment, you froze, searching for something familiar in the sharp line of his jaw and the effortless confidence in his posture.

“Welcome back,” he said, his voice lower than you remembered, more measured.

You blinked, trying to reconcile the image in front of you with the boy you used to know. Before you could say anything, your mom appeared beside you, greeting Chanyoung with a hug. He rose to his feet, smiling genuinely as he let your mom embrace him.

“You’ve grown so much!”

While they were catching up, Junyoung approached you quietly, whispering in your ear. “I know what you’re thinking.”

You glanced sideways at him. “I’m sure you do,” you scoffed. “When did this happen?”

Junyoung shrugged. “Dunno. He went to college and came back like this. He’s called Anton now by the way.”

“Anton? He hates that name.”

“Right?” he agreed, chuckling. “Dude gained some muscles and turned into this emo cool kid.”

The rest of the day passed without a single meaningful interaction with Anton. Not for lack of trying on your part—you simply didn’t get the chance.

It was subtle, his avoidance. The kind of thing no one else would pick up on. Your mom, Aunt Hyejin, and Junyoung didn’t seem to notice anything, too caught up in catching up. But you? You noticed. Every time you entered a room, Anton was suddenly walking out. If you so much as glanced his way, he was already looking elsewhere, pretending to be engrossed in his phone or staring at some invisible point in the distance.

And then at lunch, he didn’t even sit down to eat with everyone. “I’m going out. Back before dinner.” he said nonchalantly, already halfway out the door.

“Probably off to the clubhouse to meet his friends,” Aunt Hyejin explained with a shrug, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

You nodded along politely, but inside, you were itching with curiosity. What friends? Since when did Chanyoung—no, Anton—have a social life so demanding that he couldn’t sit down for a meal?

Eventually, the guessing—and the long drive—caught up with you. You slumped into your room, the familiar comfort of the bed almost tricking you into thinking nothing had changed in this place. But the moment your head hit the pillow, your eyes grew heavy, and the next thing you knew was waking up to the faint glow of moonlight and a dim bedroom.

You groaned, blinking at your phone. Dinnertime.

Throwing on a sweatshirt, you stepped into the hallway, still half-asleep and thinking only of food. You turned the corner—and walked straight into a wall.

Or, well, what felt like a wall.

“Ow,” you muttered, stumbling back and clutching your nose. You looked up to find Anton standing there, looking as unfazed as he had been since you got here.

“Oh, it’s you,” you said before you could stop yourself.

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t say a word. Without thinking, you blurted, “What did you do to your hair?”

Anton didn’t respond right away. Instead, he tilted his head, like he was deciding whether to entertain your question. Then, he reached out and rested his hand on top of your head.

“What are you—”

Before you could finish, he brought his hand down to his chest, his eyes flicking between the two points as if measuring your height.

You scowled. “Hah! Wow. I see you got a few inches taller. Congratulations,” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

Anton’s lips twitched, just barely, but he didn’t say anything.

“Ugh, whatever,” you huffed, spinning on your heel and stomping down the hallway toward the dining room.

Behind you, you didn’t see the way his lips curved into a small, teasing smile.

By the time you reached the dining room, the table was already set, laden with dishes that made your stomach growl on the spot. 

The dining table was a sight to behold, as always. Aunt Hyejin had gone all out—steamed crab, grilled shrimp, roasted vegetables, and enough side dishes to feed a small army. The familiar spread made you smile; some things never changed.

The family had already gathered when you arrived, and everyone greeted you with warm smiles. “Sweetie, can you go get Anton?” Aunt Hyejin asked, beaming at you as she placed bowls of rice on the table.

You turned your head just in time to see him walk in, his hair still damp from what must’ve been a shower. He wore a plain white t-shirt, its loose fit and sleeves doing nothing to hide his defined shoulders. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’d walked out of a magazine ad.

Anton glanced around the table before taking the empty seat next to his mom. “Where’s Dad?” he asked simply, reaching for the pitcher of water.

“His trip is getting extended for a few more days,” Aunt Hyejin explained, placing a rice bowl in front of Anton. “He’ll be back next Saturday.”

You made a point of sitting as far from Anton as possible. Not that you were being petty or anything. Okay, maybe you were a little petty.

“Dig in, everyone!” Aunt Hyejin said cheerfully as she sat down.

You didn’t need to be told twice. The meal was as delicious as you remembered, and for a while, the conversation was light—updates on Junyoung’s basketball team, your mom recounting a funny story from work, Aunt Hyejin asking about your classes.

Then, inevitably, the focus shifted to Anton.

“So, Anton,” your mom began, her tone warm and curious. “What have you been up to lately? Your mom tells me you’ve been very busy.”

Anton looked up from his plate, his expression polite but detached. “Just the usual,” he said. “School, work, hanging out with friends.”

“Oh, right! You’re working at that startup now, aren’t you?” Aunt Hyejin chimed in proudly. “He’s been so dedicated, working part-time while keeping his grades up.”

You tried to hide your surprise. The Chanyoung you remembered hated being busy. He used to complain about school work piling up, always looking for an excuse to go to the beach instead.

“Wow,” you said, before you could stop yourself. “Who knew Chanyoung Lee would turn into such a responsible adult?”

Anton’s eyes flicked to you, and for a moment, you thought he might actually smile. Instead, he just shrugged. “People change.”

The casual way he said it annoyed you more than it should have. “Clearly,” you muttered, stabbing a piece of shrimp with your fork.

If anyone noticed the tension, they didn’t comment on it. The conversation moved on, but you couldn’t help sneaking glances at Anton throughout the meal. He barely spoke, answering questions with short, polite responses and deflecting anything too personal. It was so unlike the boy who used to dominate every dinner table conversation with ridiculous stories and bad jokes.

At one point, Junyoung leaned over to whisper, “You’re staring.”

“I am not,” you whispered back, cheeks heating.

“You are,” he insisted with a grin. “What’s your deal?”

You glared at him. “What’s his deal? He’s acting so weird.”

“If you ask me, I think you’re the one acting weird,” he whispered back.

You were about to retort when Aunt Hyejin’s voice prompted the attention of the table. “So, Anton, are you spending time at the clubhouse tomorrow too?” she asked.

“Yeah. A few friends are back in town, so I’ll be there a lot,” he replied, his tone casual.

“Oh, the clubhouse,” you deadpanned, unable to resist. “Sounds very exclusive.”

Anton’s eyes flicked to yours, something unreadable passing through his gaze. “It’s just a place to hang out,” he said evenly.

“Hm. Fancy.” You stabbed at your food with a bit more force than necessary.

Junyoung snickered beside you, “She’s jealous.”

You elbowed him hard, making him yelp. Across the table, Anton’s lips twitched, but he didn’t say anything.

When dinner was over and the plates were being cleared, Anton finally turned to you, his tone deceptively casual. “You’ve got some rice on your face.”

“What?” You froze, quickly swiping at your cheek.

“No, other side.”

You wiped again, glaring at him when his expression didn’t change. “Is it gone?”

He shrugged, standing up and grabbing his plate. “Sure,” he said, walking off, and you could’ve sworn you heard him chuckle under his breath.

Beside you, Junyoung was laughing so hard he nearly fell out of his chair.

The morning light filtered through the open window, and the cool breeze made the thin curtains sway gently. You stretched lazily, the familiar sound of waves crashing against the shore reminding you that you were in the Lee family’s beach house, finally back after two years. 

You got up and brushed your teeth, observing your face in the mirror for any changes. As you stepped out of your room, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and waffles made your tummy growl. You could hear your mom and Aunt Hyejin talking.

And by the time you made it to the kitchen, they were already preparing to leave. “Morning. You guys heading out?” you asked, helping yourself to the coffee machine.

“Good morning, honey!” Your mom turned to you with a smile. “We’ll be downtown all day to see the market and buy some things for the house.”

“What are your plans for today, sweetie?” Aunt Hyejin asked.

“I think I’ll go for a swim,” you replied, setting your mug down the table.

“That’s nice,” Aunt Hyejin beamed, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “I was thinking of asking Anton to show you around or take you to the clubhouse, but he went out for a jog early this morning.”

“Thanks, Auntie, but it’s okay,” you replied quickly, almost too quickly. “I don’t really feel like going anyway.”

Your mom raised an eyebrow at your tone, but she didn’t comment. Instead, she kissed your forehead before grabbing her purse. “Alright, have breakfast before you go out, and don’t forget your sunscreen!”

“Also, sweetheart,” Aunt Hyejin prompted, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Could you tell Anton when he gets back that I left a note for him? It’s on the fridge and tell him he needs to do it as soon as he’s back from his run.”

“Okay, Auntie. I’ll let him know.”

You walked them to the door, waving them off as they left, then headed upstairs to change. A swim sounded like the perfect way to spend your first real morning back—just you, the ocean, and some much-needed time to clear your head. Usually, Anton would wake you up early on your first day back and drag you to the beach for a swim, but you weren’t counting on it today.

When you made your way down to the beach, you weren’t expecting to find Junyoung and his friends there.

“Oh, it’s the old lady!” Junyoung called out to you as soon as he saw you, a cheeky grin plastered across his face.

“I’m not old, you brat,” you shot back, squinting at him. He’d gathered quite the group, and a few familiar faces smiled at you from where they sat on beach towels.

“Wow, you’re really here,” one of the girls, Hana, said with a laugh as she stood up to hug you. “It’s been ages!”

“It’s only been two years,” you chuckled, hugging her back. “But I can see that you’ve all grown up so much,” you added, marveling at how much they’d changed in two years. The boys were taller, the girls more polished, and there was an air of confidence about them that made you miss being a teenager a little.

“You sound like my grandma,” Hana teased, shaking her head.

“Don’t encourage her,” Junyoung interjected, smirking. “She’s ancient.”

You rolled your eyes, flicking sand at him playfully. “Whatever, I’m going for a swim. Enjoy roasting me while I’m gone.”

Junyoung laughed, holding up a hand as if in surrender. “Don’t drown, grandma!”

You flipped him off as you walked toward the water, grinning.

The water was cool and refreshing, lapping against your skin as you waded in deeper. From the corner of your eye, you noticed the beach slowly coming to life. Families were setting up umbrellas, kids were building sandcastles, and a couple was walking hand in hand along the shore. It was a scene you’d witnessed countless times over the years, but it never failed to make you smile.

Your thoughts drifted to the summers you’d spent here as a kid. Each year brought new faces—tourists you’d befriended for a few fleeting weeks, locals who became your seasonal playmates. You’d always been quick to mke friends and form bonds, though many of them faded as quickly as they’d formed.

And, of course, there were the crushes. The endless parade of cute boys who caught your eye. Some of them, you tried to shoot your shot. Most of them, you’d never had the courage to talk to. As usual, those feeling faded when the summer was over.

Well, except for one. Sungchan.

He’d been your longest-running crush, a boy from the neighborhood who was a few years older. Every summer, you’d spot him on the beach or at the local shops, always surrounded by friends, always smiling. You never got beyond the occasional shy wave or stolen glance, but that didn’t stop you from swooning over him every chance you got.

You smiled to yourself, wondering what he was up to these days. Was he still living here? Still as effortlessly cool as you remembered?

Your gaze drifted toward the lifeguard tower, the only unfamiliar fixture along the beachline. It wasn’t there last time you were here, but that wasn’t the reason you couldn’t keep your gaze away. Sitting there, casually surveying the beach, was none other than Sungchan. And he looked even better than you remembered.

His features had sharpened with age, his shoulders broader, his smile just as dazzling. He wore a red lifeguard tank top and sunglasses, looking relaxed and confident as he chatted with another lifeguard.

“Of course,” you muttered under your breath, treading water as you stared. “He’s still ridiculously handsome. Great.”

You shook your head, forcing yourself to look away. You weren’t that starstruck kid anymore, and you weren’t about to start crushing on him all over again.

Soon, the water started to lose its allure when the morning sun climbed higher and the heat started to prick your shoulder. With a content sigh, you decided to head back toward the shore. You ran your fingers through your wet hair, mentally noting how good the ocean always felt no matter how many summers you spent here.

But just as your feet hit the shallows, a sudden shout caught your attention.

“HEADS UP!”

Before you could react, something smacked into your forehead with a dull thunk. The world turned slightly as you stumbled backward, landing awkwardly in the sand.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” A boy hurried over, looking horrified as he grabbed the Frisbee floating on the water.

“It’s alright,” you muttered, waving him off as you pushed yourself up.

“Hey, are you okay?” another voice called out—calm, authoritative. You turned your head, and there he was, Sungchan, jogging toward you.

The boy with the Frisbee immediately began apologizing again, but Sungchan dismissed him with a quick, “It’s alright, just be more careful next time.” His focus shifted to you. “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, trying to brush sand off your legs. “No. I’m fine.”

“Uh-huh,” Sungchan cut you off, gesturing at your forehead. “You’re bleeding.”

“What?” You blinked, reaching up to touch your temple. Sure enough, there was a faint smear of blood when you looked at your fingers.

“Just a small cut,” he said, helping you up. “Come on, let’s clean that up.”

You barely had time to protest before Sungchan was already leading you toward the lifeguard tower. You waited by the steps as he grabbed a first aid kit with urgency.

“Sit,” he said as he stepped down. You sat and watched Sungchan do his thing. “This’ll sting a little,” he warned, dabbing at your cut with an antiseptic wipe.

“It’s fine,” you mumbled, feeling the heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck. The proximity was overwhelming—he smelled like sunscreen and saltwater, his face far too close for comfort.

As he finished cleaning the cut, Sungchan grabbed a band-aid and carefully placed it over the small wound. His hand lingered for a second longer than necessary, his brow furrowing slightly.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” he asked suddenly.

Of course, he didn’t remember you. “I guess,” you said, offering a small, nervous smile as you told him your name. “From a couple summers ago.”

Sungchan’s hands paused for a second, recognition lighting up his face. “Ah! Yes. I remember you now.” He let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “Wow. You’ve… changed.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you quipped, trying to ignore the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “You’ve changed quite a bit too.”

He smiled and pointed at yout cut. “You’re lucky it was just a small scratch,” he said, eyes lingering on you. “Or else I might have had to go full lifeguard mode and perform some CPR.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back on the lifeguard tower. “I’m pretty sure I’d survive without the dramatic rescue.”

Sungchan chuckled, his voice dropping just low enough for you to hear. “You sure? Because I don’t mind saving you each time you need me to.”

A small laugh escaped you, feeling more at ease now. “Why, thank you. But I think I can handle myself.”

“Oh I don’t doubt it,” he said, his tone shifting to something a little more teasing. “But I really wouldn’t mind seeing more of you.”

You raised an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth twitching into a smirk. “Is that so? Are you flirting with me, Sungchan?”

He shrugged, pretending to look innocent. “Would it be so bad if I was?” he asked back, gaze flicking at your lips for a split-second.

Before you could respond, you caught movement from the corner of your eye. When you glanced sideways, it was Anton. He stood just a few feet away, his expression dark and unreadable. His eyes moved from you to Sungchan, his jaw tightening ever so slightly.

You waved at him. “Hey! You’re back!” you called out, remembering Aunt Hyejin’s instruction to remind him of a chore.

Anton didn’t respond, his eyes flicking over you briefly before he turned and jogged toward the house, his pace quick as if he had somewhere to be.

You frowned slightly, unable to dismiss the attitude. “I’ve gotta go,” you said, standing up quickly. “Thanks for this. And see you around, Sungchan.”

“Oh, you’re leaving?” Sungchan asked, his tone still light, but there was a spark of curiosity in his eyes. He stood up too. “Will I see you at the party tonight? 8pm at the clubhouse?”

You didn’t give it much thought as you glanced at Anton’s retreating figure. “Yeah! See you there!” You flashed a smile, already jogging after Anton.

“Anton, wait up!” you called, sprinting after him on the sand. Your feet sank with every step, making it harder to keep up. He didn’t even glance back, his strides deliberate and fast, like he was on a mission to get as far away from you as possible.

“Seriously? Are you even listening?” you shouted, frustration lacing your voice.

Still nothing. By the time you made it to the house, your chest was heaving, partly from running and partly from annoyance. Anton was already in the kitchen, chugging down a glass of water.

“Your mom left a note for you on the fridge,” you said, your tone sharper than you intended.

He didn’t say a word, just set the glass down, turned the fridge door, yanked the note and held it up for you to see without a word.

“What? It’s for you, not me,” you blurted, crossing your arms.

Anton simply folded the note in half, shoved it into his pocket, and walked away. You stood there, fuming, watching his retreating figure disappear around the corner. What was his problem?

Something was definitely wrong. Leaning against the counter, you tried to make sense of what just happened. Was it something you said? Something you did? You wracked your brain, sifting through every interaction you’d had with him, wondering if you somehow did something to offend or anger him in any way.

The last time you’d seen him was at your high school graduation two years ago. He’d been his usual self then—kind, supportive, making jokes to ease your nerves before the ceremony. If something had happened between then and now, it would have to be major for him to act like this after two whole years. But try as you might, you couldn’t think of anything.

And maybe that was true, this wasn’t about what you did. Maybe nothing had happened at all. Maybe this was just him now—more distant, more mature. The kind of guy who had outgrown childhood friendships.

Your chest tightened as the realization slowly crept in. Anton has changed. He doesn’t even look like the Anton you knew anymore. The messy bangs that used to fall into his eyes were gone, replaced by a clean, swept-back look that showed off his sharp jawline and cheekbones. Back then, he had that cute, boy-next-door thing going on, but now? Now he looked like he’d stepped out of some posh fashion campaign.

Even his eyes were different. They were the same shade, sure, but the warmth was missing. Instead, they felt sharper, like he wasn’t just looking at you but sizing you up, as if he didn’t quite know what to make of you anymore.

It was weird. And upsetting. Because no matter how much you tried to shake it off, it felt like the guy you used to know was gone. And you weren’t sure if you should feel proud of the man he’d become or mourn the boy you’d lost.

The tinkling sound of the door chime signaled someone’s arrival, jolting you out of your thoughts. Your mom popped her head in from the main door, flashing you a quick smile. “Hi, hun. Can you come down and help with the groceries? We’ve got bags of stuff to unload.”

“Yeah, sure,” you said, grateful for the excuse to stop spiraling. “I’ll go change first.” You pushed off the counter and headed for the stairs, trying to leave thoughts of Anton behind.

Chatter filled the kitchen as you unpacked groceries with your mom and Aunt Hyejin. They worked efficiently and synchronously, the kind of rhythm that only came from years of friendship.

“I’m telling you, we did not run into a celebrity at the market,” Aunt Hyejin said, waving a carton of eggs for emphasis.

“Then why did he look exactly like Gong Yoo?” your mom shot back, her tone smug.

“Because you see Gong Yoo in every man with nice hair and a sharp jawline,” Aunt Hyejin retorted, placing the eggs on the counter.

“What about that one time at the airport…”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as they continued their playful bickering. And just as your mood started to lighten, Anton walked into the kitchen. Without a word, he handed an envelope to Aunt Hyejin. His mom looked at it briefly and set it aside, mid-sentence with your mom.

Anton turned to leave, but then paused. “I’m heading to the clubhouse,” he said, his tone flat.

Aunt Hyejin looked up with a casual smile on her face. “Why don’t you take her with you?” she asked, nodding toward you. “I’m sure she’s bored hanging out with us.”

Anton’s eyes flicked to yours, holding your gaze for a moment longer than necessary. His expression was unreadable, but something in his stare made you shift uncomfortably.

You waved it off quickly. “It’s fine, Auntie. I’ll go next time.”

Anton tilted his head, lips curving into a faint smirk. “She doesn’t need me to take her there anyway,” he said, his voice laced with a condescension that set your teeth on edge. “She’s already got someone’s invitation to tonight’s party.”

The insinuation hit its mark, and for a second, you stared at him, trying to process the shade he’d just thrown. He didn’t wait for a response, though. Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you simmering in annoyance.

Your mom and Aunt Hyejin exchanged a look. “Did you two fight?” your mom asked, eyebrows raised in concern.

“I don’t know,” you muttered, slamming a box of cereal onto the counter. “He’s been grumpy since this morning. I don’t wanna deal with it. And seriously, what’s up with his hair?”

“I think it looks great on him,” your mom said, glancing at Aunt Hyejin. “He’s grown so much in just two years. I almost didn’t recognize him at first.”

Aunt Hyejin nodded, a fond smile softening her features. “Yeah. Junyoung kept saying he’s got a glow up. We’re a family of late bloomers, you see.”

Their conversation continued, shifting to reminiscing about childhood antics and growth spurts, but you weren’t paying attention anymore. Your hands moved automatically, storing away groceries, while your mind replayed Anton’s jab over and over. Annoyance bubbled to the surface, threatening to spill over.

By the time the last bag was unpacked, you were practically seething. If this was the new Anton, you weren’t sure how much of him you could take.

The clubhouse was already crowded when you arrived. It was the same lively scene you remembered from previous summers: groups of people chatting at small tables, others lounging by the bar, drinks and snacks being passed around, strobe lights, and noisy music.

“Hey, you made it!” Sungchan’s familiar voice rang out above the noise. He was by the pool table, his grin as easy as ever, as he waved you over.

You smiled and headed his way. “Barely,” you teased. “This place is packed.”

“Summer crowd,” he said with a shrug. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

Sungchan was effortlessly charming, bringing you into conversations with people you’d only vaguely remembered from previous summers—or didn’t know at all. He had a way of making things feel casual, light, and fun, and it wasn’t long before you were laughing with his friends.

Somewhere in between introductions, Sungchan leaned closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially.  “Did you come here with Anton?”

Your smile faltered. “No. Why?”

He tilted his head toward the bar. “Because he’s been looking this way every five seconds since you walked in.”

You followed his gaze, and there he was—Anton, leaning casually against the bar, a drink in hand. His relaxed posture contradicted the sharpness in his eyes as they flicked in your direction. He was talking to a group of people you recognized as the self-proclaimed elites of the clubhouse—the rich kids, the ones he’d always found insufferable.

You blinked, momentarily thrown off. Since when had Anton started hanging out with them? He used to avoid this place altogether, grumbling about the kids who were too rich, too smug, and too full of themselves. And yet, there he was, laughing along with them, fitting in like he’d belonged there all along. 

Before you could dwell on it, a voice called out your name. You spun around to see Yejin, one of the friends you’d spent countless summer days with.

“There you are!” she called, waving from a nearby table. “Took you long enough!”

Grateful for the distraction, you turned away from Anton and made your way to Yejin, Hana, and Sohee, who greeted you with the kind of warmth and comfort that came from being with people you’d known for years. You got swept up in a hearty conversation—reminiscing, teasing, catching up on the details of two summers you’d missed. They bombarded you with questions, half-complaints about your absence, and enough inside jokes to make you laugh until your cheeks hurt.

“But seriously,” Sohee said, narrowing her eyes at you. “Where were you?”

“Life just got crazy, okay?” you explained, putting your hands up in mock surrender.

“Crazy? You ditched us for two whole years!” Hana chimed in, raising an eyebrow. “That’s two summers.”

“I know. So instead of holding me hostage for being gone, how about filling me in on what I missed?” you shot back, laughing.

Yejin leaned closer, her voice dripping with mischief. “We’ll fill you in, all right. But first—what’s going on with you and Sungchan?”

You opened your mouth to deny it, but before you could, Sungchan appeared beside you, an innocent smile plastered across his face.

“Am I the topic of conversation?” he asked, his elbow nudging yours as he stood beside you. “I see, you’re catching up with your friends.”

Yejin narrowed her eyes at Sungchan, feigning suspicion. “Mr. Jung Sungchan, what’s the meaning of this?”

Sungchan glanced briefly at you. “Nothing. Your cute friend just happened to be generous enough to spare some of her precious time for me.”

Your friends exchanged glances and burst out laughing. Sohee was uncannily loud. “Generous enough? Surely you knew she was head over—”

You lunged at him, covering his mouth before he could finish talking. “This party is amazing, isn’t it?”

Sungchan just chuckled. “It is. Like I said, summer crowd.”

The chat continued, most of the attention directed at you because obviously, they wanted to catch up with you.

“So, are you two like a thing now?” Yejin asked, her tone playful as she raised an eyebrow at you and Sungchan.

“Definitely not,” you replied, rolling your eyes.

Sungchan clutched his chest, feigning hurt. “Wow, didn’t even hesitate. And here I  was, thinking we had something special.”

“Dude, we only started talking like five hours ago,” you retorted. “You’ll live.”

The group erupted in laughter, and Sohee grinned. “I don’t know, man. You seem to have some competition.”

“Competition?” Sungchan repeated.

Before Sohee could elaborate, Anton appeared beside him, clapping a hand on his back. “Don’t mind him,” he said, his voice smooth but pointed. “Sohee thinks everything’s a competition. Remember last summer’s beach volleyball? He still claims he didn’t cheat.”

Sohee gasped, his hand to his chest. “I didn’t!”

“Sure,” Anton drawled, his gaze flicking briefly to you before shifting back to Sohee. “Just like you didn’t accidentally trip over Hana to block that shot.”

“Speaking of beach volleyball,” Sungchan slid back into the group seamlessly, his charm lighting up the conversation. He nudged your arm playfully. “Weren’t you a former MVP?”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider. “I used to be. That was three years ago, though. I think I’ve gotten rusty.”

“Don’t be modest,” Yejin teased, grinning at Sungchan. “She was a menace on the court. You’ve seen her, right? Our team was unbeatable because of her.”

Hana pointed at Sungchan. “Remember when we massacred Bay Area-3 four years ago? Must’ve sucked,” she added, shaking her head in exaggerated pity.

You hummed contentedly, leaning into the lightheartedness. “Too bad the season’s over. I would’ve loved to do it again.”

“Hey, I was on that team too,” Sohee interjected, pouting as if his contributions had been forgotten.

Sungchan’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “I think we need a rematch. Let me know when you’re ready to lose.”

Yejin scoffed. “You’re on.”

“I’ll referee,” Anton offered unexpectedly, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Someone’s gotta keep things fair, after all.”

“Oh, because you’re so unbiased?” you quipped before you could stop yourself.

Anton glanced at you, his gaze steady but unreadable. “I’m just saying, someone needs to make sure Sungchan doesn’t get away with calling fouls on every play.”

“Hey, I don’t do that!” Sungchan protested, laughing.

“You totally do,” Yejin chimed in, pointing a finger at him. “Remember last time? Every time you missed, suddenly it was, ‘The sun was in my eyes,’ or, ‘That wasn’t regulation height.’”

The group dissolved into laughter, and after some playful banter, a spontaneous agreement was made to hold a beach volleyball rematch in a few days. Sungchan excused himself first, saying he needed to spread the word to his Bay Area-3 team.

To you, he added, “You can find me back at the pool table later. Have fun catching up.”

As Sungchan walked away, you felt a prickle of awareness. Anton’s gaze was on you again. You met his eyes and raised an eyebrow. What? you mouthed, a silent challenge.

Predictably, he didn’t respond. His expression didn’t change, but he looked away, taking a slow sip from his drink. The moment passed as one of his new, polished friends called him over. He offered your group a brisk goodbye before heading back to their circle.

You exhaled, but your chest felt tight. It was weird seeing Anton blend so naturally with people he’d once disliked. You hadn’t realized how much it bothered you until now.

“Since when has he been hanging out with those people?” you asked, unable to keep the curiosity—and maybe the faintest trace of disbelief—out of your voice.

Hana leaned closer, lowering her tone conspiratorially. “He went to the same college as some of them. It’s actually kind of impressive, in a way. I didn’t think any of them were smart enough to get into a good university.”

You nodded absently, your thoughts tangled. “It’s just... weird seeing him with them when he used to complain about them all the time.”

“Well, people change,” Yejin said with a shrug, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “Maybe he likes them now.”

You didn’t respond. There was no point in sharing the discomfort curling in your stomach when no one else seemed fazed. Instead, you busied yourself with your drink as conversation shifted to lighter topics—new schools, old gossip, and what everyone had been up to since high school.

You smiled and laughed along, but your thoughts kept drifting. No matter how much you tried, they always found their way back to Anton.

The night was in full swing by the time you found yourself sitting at a round table with Yejin, Hana, and a few other familiar faces. Sungchan leaned back in his chair beside you, his easy grin practically lighting up the conversation.

“So,” one acquaintance said, raising an eyebrow as she swirled her drink, “how does it feel to be back after two years? Like nothing’s changed?”

You smiled, though the question struck a little too close to home. “It feels great, honestly. I didn’t realize how much I missed everyone until now.”

“You’re lucky we even let you back in,” another one teased, leaning forward with a mock stern look. “Two summers is basically an eternity.”

Yejin chimed in, pointing her straw at you. “I told you she’d just waltz back in like nothing happened.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but a new voice cut through the chatter. “That’s kind of her thing, isn’t it?”

Your head whipped toward Anton, who had been leaning casually against the wall nearby. His voice was calm, almost disinterested, but there was a sharpness to it that pricked at your skin.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, forcing a laugh that felt a little too light.

Anton glanced at you briefly, his expression unreadable, before looking back at the group. “She’s good at jumping back into things like nothing ever happened.” Then to you, he said slowly and clearly, “That’s just how you’ve always been.”

The table went quiet for a few seconds too long. Sungchan shot you a look—half amused, half wary—while Yejin frowned, the corners of her mouth twitching as if unsure whether to laugh or intervene.

You felt your cheeks burn, but you refused to let it show. “Well, some of us don’t go through drastic changes in just two years,” you shot back, forcing a smile.

Anton’s gaze flicked to you for a moment, his lips curling in a faint, almost imperceptible smirk. “Guess not.”

The conversation resumed, though the tension lingered in the background. Yejin quickly steered the group onto lighter topics, and soon enough, the table was filled with laughter again.

But you couldn’t shake away Anton’s words. They sat in the back of your mind, nagging at you even as you tried to ignore them.

Sungchan leaned closer, his shoulder brushing yours. “You okay?” he asked softly.

“Fine.” You smiled at him, grateful, but the knot in your chest didn’t loosen. Instead, your eyes found Anton again, now standing by the bar with a drink in hand. He didn’t look your way, but you were swearing at him in your head, determined to get to the bottom of whatever his problem was as soon as you were alone.

The wait didn’t take long. While you were squeezed beside Sungchan on a plush couch, his arm draped over your shoulder, feeling more carefree after several drinks, Anton appeared before you with his brows furrowed.

“I’m going home,” he said flatly, his eyes flicking between you and Sungchan.

You scowled. “And? What does that have to do with me?”

He sighed, taking your drink away and placing it on the table with a pointed glance. “Your mom would kill me if I left without you. Come on.”

You rolled your eyes and stood up, bidding Sungchan a quick goodbye. He let you go with a soft kiss on your cheek, his voice warm as he said, “Text me when you’re home, okay?”

You nodded, though you knew you’d probably forget. Your focus was already on Anton, who was heading out the door without waiting for you.

You struggled to catch up with his long strides, but you didn’t complain, knowing he’d just ignore you if you did. The alcohol made your annoyance simmer louder, and in your head, you practiced the scathing words you’d unleash as soon as you were alone with him.

But Anton had other plans. The car stereo blasted as soon as the engine started, drowning out any attempt you made to speak. You knew he was doing it on purpose, and it made you angrier.

The ride felt like an eternity, tension crackling in the silence between the loud beats of the music. When the car finally pulled up in the garage, Anton got out without a word, leaving you to stumble after him. He was already halfway inside the house when you kicked off your heels and stormed in.

“You’re back early,” Aunt Hyejin greeted from the living room, where she and your mom sat in their pajamas watching a movie. “Oh, what’s wrong?”

“Hi, Auntie. Hi, Mom,” you said briskly, barely glancing their way as you followed Anton up the stairs.

“What happened?” your mom called after you, but you didn’t stop to answer.

The alcohol made it easier to ignore the logic telling you to let it go. You caught the door just as Anton was about to close it, your hand slamming against the wood.

“What’s your problem?” you snapped as you pushed your way into his bedroom, slamming the door behind you.

Anton didn’t even flinch. He casually walked over to his closet, rummaging through it for a fresh shirt. “What is it this time?” His tone was too monotonous, almost mocking.

“‘That’s just how you’ve always been.’” You gestured wildly, your voice rising with frustration as you mimicked his indifferent tone. “What the hell is that supposed to mean, Anton?”

His brow twitched, and for a split second, you thought he might actually look sorry. But no. Instead, he leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms like he had all the time in the world to deal with your meltdown.

“It’s not that deep,” he said, his tone infuriatingly calm. “You’re overreacting.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh. “Overreacting? You’ve barely said two words to me since I got here, and when you finally do, it’s to throw some passive-aggressive jab about how I’ve ‘always been’ like that? What is it exactly? Too loud? Too much? Too—”

“Annoying,” he cut in, his voice low but sharp enough to slice through your tirade.

The word struck a nerve, silencing you. Your breath hitched, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him.

“Annoying?” you echoed, your voice shaking. “Wow. So that’s what you think of me now? Or have you always thought I was annoying?”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as if this conversation was physically exhausting him. “Why are you so hung up on this?”

“Am I?” You took a step closer, your pulse quickening as anger spiked through you. “Alright then, sue me for always being like this. I didn’t change like you did. I’m still annoying, and I’ve—” You made air quotes, your voice dripping with sarcasm, “—‘always been like this.’”

“Enough,” Anton sighed, exasperated.

“What other grievances do you have against me, Anton?” you shot back, your patience worn thin. “Come on. Let’s hear it.”

“That’s enough,” he said firmly, uttering your name warningly in a way that made your stomach flip—not with fear, but with something far more complicated.

But you weren’t about to back down. “No, I’m not done. You don’t get to act like you’re some untouchable, brooding—”

Before you could finish, he grabbed your wrist—not hard, but enough to make you freeze. His other hand settled on your waist, and in one swift motion, he pulled you closer. You opened your mouth to protest, but his lips crashed into yours before you could even make a sound.

Anton kissed you.

It wasn’t soft or tentative. It was messy and careless, born of frustration and something you couldn’t put a finger on. Your hands pressed against his chest instinctively, not enough to push him away but not quite pulling him closer either.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was warm against your cheek. His grip on your waist loosened, but he didn’t let go completely.

“See?” he muttered, smirking as he took a small step back. “Still annoying.”

You stood there, your heart pounding in your chest, your mind a storm of confusion and something else you couldn’t quite name. Anton seemed completely unfazed, tugging his shirt off and changing right there in front of you. You were still frozen in place when he glanced back at you, flicking your forehead with an almost playful arrogance.

“Ow!” you groaned, snapped back to reality.

“It's just a kiss. Don’t obsess over it,” he teased, his eyes flicking to your lips for a moment before he turned, striding toward the door.

You stood there, the words echoing in your head—‘Just a kiss.’ He didn’t even look back as he walked out, leaving you standing in the middle of his room, heart still racing, mind still reeling.

You first met Anton when you were seven. It was the first of your many summers in their little hometown by the sea. Your mom had just finished unpacking your bags when Anton’s mother brought him over to say hello.

He didn’t say much, hiding behind her skirt and eyeing you like you were some strange creature he wasn’t sure he liked yet. But that didn’t last long. Later that afternoon, when the adults were chatting over iced tea on the porch, he shyly tugged at your sleeve and said, “Do you wanna see my pet turtle?”

You had gasped at the time, pleasantly surprised. “You have a turtle?”

“Yeah! It looks like a dinosaur!” he had responded with gleaming eyes.

That was all it took. One look at the tiny turtle swimming in a glass tank on his bedroom windowsill, and suddenly you weren’t just visiting strangers—you had a friend.

Summer after summer, the two of you grew closer. You didn’t get to spend Christmases together or birthdays, but summer break was sacred. Your families would get together at their beach house like a tradition, and that house quickly became a second home to you. Its wooden floors creaked under your bare feet, and the salty breeze always carried the sound of seagulls and laughter.

Anton was funny in a way that always caught you off guard, soft-spoken but bursting with energy when the mood struck. He had a wild streak too, like the time he dared you to jump off the pier into the ocean—even though you’d both been warned a hundred times not to. You ended up doing it, and you both got grounded for the rest of the week.

When you were eleven, he taught you how to ride a bike—well, tried to. He kept insisting he wasn’t laughing at you every time you tipped over, but you could see the way he bit his lip to hold back a grin. And when you finally managed to ride down the dirt path without falling, he cheered so loudly the neighbors peeked out their windows to see what all the fuss was about.

He wasn’t always the wild one, though. There were quieter moments too—like when the two of you built sandcastles on the beach and argued about whether a moat was necessary, or when you’d sit under the teepee in his room, eating popsicles and reading comic books.

For years, he was a head shorter than you, something you loved to tease him about relentlessly. “When are you gonna catch up, Anton?” you’d giggle, ruffling his hair.

“You’ll see,” he’d retort with a determined pout. “I’m gonna grow taller than you someday. Dad said it’s gonna happen soon.”

It became an annual joke, one he stubbornly refused to give up on even as the years passed and your height difference barely changed. Then, when you were sixteen, it finally happened. You came back that summer and found Anton waiting at the door, looking taller than he’d ever been. At first, you didn’t believe it, but the smug grin on his face told you he waited for you at the front door on purpose.

“You’re standing on something,” you accused, squinting at him.

“Nope,” he said, grinning wide as he tapped his bare feet against the porch. “I told you, didn’t I?”

By then, he wasn’t just taller; he was different in ways you couldn’t quite put into words. It was sometime after that same summer that you realized your feelings for Anton weren’t as simple as you thought.

You were teenagers, going through all the awkward, messy stages of puberty. He was becoming more handsome by the day, his boyish features sharpening in ways that made you notice things you hadn’t before. His smile seemed more charming, his laughter endearing, and you were left grappling with a new, inconvenient truth—you had a crush on your best friend.

It wasn’t like it was hard to fall for him. You’d never given it much thought before, but Anton had always been attentive to you. Having a crush on him made you see him in a different light, and his kind nature soon made your heart flutter. He teased you mercilessly, sure, but he always knew when to stop. If you were upset or sulking, he had this uncanny ability to bring you out of it without even trying.

He’d wait for you at the end of the dock whenever you hesitated to jump, his hand outstretched with a soft smile on his lips. If you got hurt—whether it was a scraped knee or a bruised ego—he was always the first to check on you. He never let you carry heavy things, always taking your bag without a word even when you protested. Sometimes you’d be shivering after a late swim, he would throw his towel over your shoulders and grin, saying you looked like a wet puppy.

He had this way of making you feel like you were the most important person in the world, even when he was teasing you. Like the summer he spent two hours untangling the kite you’d accidentally gotten stuck in a tree, refusing to let you help because “you’ll just make it worse.” Or the time he taught you how to skip stones on the water. He’d stood behind you, guiding your arm with his, his chest brushing your back as he whispered instructions, so close you could barely focus. 

For a while, you were convinced you were in love with him. But even then, you knew better than to say anything. What if it ruined everything? What if your confession turned your friendship into something awkward and strained? What would his parents—your second family—think if you jeopardized the bond your two families shared?

So, you buried it. Tucked away that silly, puppy love into the deepest corners of your mind, letting it stay there as a bittersweet secret. You told yourself it was fine. You didn’t need him to love you back. It was enough just to be around him, to laugh with him, to call him your best friend.

And it worked. For years, it worked.

He went back to being your platonic soulmate, the person who knew you better than anyone else. The crush faded into the background, becoming a harmless relic of your teenage years—something you could look back on with fondness but without longing. Anton was family. Almost like a brother, considering the way you’d grown up together.

Or so you thought..

Now, you lay in your dimly lit bedroom, staring at the ceiling with your hand pressed to your chest. You could still feel the sensation of his lips on yours, and the memory played on a loop in your mind. 

Anton had kissed you. On the lips. And you didn’t know how to feel about it.

No, that wasn’t entirely true. You did know.

The affection you’d convinced yourself was long gone—that you’d painstakingly buried under layers of denial—wasn’t gone at all. It had been lying dormant, quietly waiting for something to wake it up. And now, with one impulsive kiss, Anton had yanked it out of its slumber.

What made it worse was Anton himself. He didn’t seem the least bit affected. He’d walked out of the room as if the kiss meant nothing, leaving you to deal with the fallout alone. Did he even care? Did he even think about what it would do to you, kissing you like that and walking away?

You let out a frustrated sigh, pressing your palms to your eyes as if you could physically stop your thoughts from spiraling.

It was too much. Anton had been too much these days. And now, he’d managed to unravel years of carefully built denial with one impulsive, reckless kiss.

What are you supposed to do now?

The next few days were unbearable. You tried your best to pretend nothing had happened between you and Anton, but that had never been your strong suit. Pretending didn’t come naturally to you, and something as major as that kiss was impossible to ignore. And Anton? Oh, he must have been having the time of his life watching you squirm.

He didn’t ignore you anymore—not like before—but a big part of you wished he just stayed indifferent and mean. He’d sit beside you at breakfast, close enough for his knee to bump against yours under the table. He’d call your name just to ask something unimportant, so casually too like the kiss didn’t even happen. Then, every once in a while, he’d throw in a remark that made your stomach flip.

“Still thinking about it?” he asked once, leaning against the dock railing as you peered down at the clear water.

You’d nearly dropped your phone in the water. “About what?”

He raised an eyebrow, a sly smile pulling at his lips. “You know what.”

You wanted to strangle him.

And the worst part? He didn’t care if anyone else was around when he did it. Around family, he kept his teasing just vague enough that no one else would catch on, subtle enough not to raise suspicions. But his remarks were bold enough to set your heart racing and leave you panicking that someone might pick up on your little secret.

By the time a week had passed, you were on the brink of losing it.

Anton’s dad had arrived back from work, and to celebrate, the family decided on a big barbecue dinner. Naturally, you and Anton were tasked with picking up groceries. It was something you often did together, but that was before. Now you just wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

Still, you didn’t argue. Obviously you couldn’t risk drawing attention to yourself and raising questions. Since the kiss, you hadn’t yet been alone with him, and the thought of sitting in a car with just him was making your stomach churn.

When Anton leaned over to buckle your seatbelt—his hand brushing your arm in a way that felt entirely too intentional—you swatted him away.

“I can do it myself,” you snapped.

He smirked, leaning back into his seat as if you hadn’t just scolded him. “You’re welcome.”

At the grocery store, things were mercifully normal. The conversation stayed focused on the errand. You stuck to the list, pointing out items while Anton grabbed them, and for a moment, it felt like those times in the past when you did the same errand. But then, as you were scanning a shelf for the right brand of barbecue sauce, you saw a familiar face along the aisle.

“Sungchan!” you called out, waving a hand in the air and failing to notice Anton scowling behind you.

The sight of him brought a welcome distraction, and you walked over with a smile creeping onto your face. You exchanged pleasantries, and he introduced you to his mom, who seemed just as charming as he was. Over the past week, you’d been texting with him and had even gone on a few strolls along the beach. He was funny and easygoing, and things seemed to be going well—if only you could focus on this rather than having Anton occupy space in your head.

“Didn’t expect to run into you here,” he said, his gaze flickering briefly to Anton, who stood a few steps behind you, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“Small town,” you replied with a laugh.

You chatted for a few minutes before his mom gently reminded him about their errands. Before leaving, he leaned in to press a kiss to your cheek. It was quick and casual, but it made your cheeks burn nonetheless.

“See you soon,” Sungchan said, stepping back. “Volleyball match is on Tuesday. Don’t forget,” he added, glancing between you and Anton before walking away.

You turned back to Anton, hoping he hadn’t noticed your flushed cheeks, but of course, he had.

“You’re blushing,” he said, his voice teasing but sharper at the edges than usual.

“It’s hot,” you muttered, grabbing a random bottle of barbecue sauce and tossing it into the cart without even looking at the label.

Anton reached over, grabbed the bottle, and placed it back on the shelf. “This one’s for pasta. You’re a mess today.”

You glared at him. “Maybe I wouldn’t be if someone wasn’t constantly trying to mess with me.”

“Who, me?” Anton’s expression was pure mock innocence.

“Yes, you!” You snatched another bottle off the shelf, shoving it into the cart with unnecessary force before walking ahead.

He trailed behind, his voice light but carrying a certain edge. “So... you and Sungchan, huh?”

“What about us?” you said flatly, not bothering to look back.

“Oh, nothing,” Anton replied, leaning casually against the cart handle. “It’s just cute, that’s all. The way he looks at you like you’re a goddess or something. And that kiss on the cheek?” He let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Real smooth.”

Your brows furrowed, genuinely wondering if he was being sarcastic. He looked at you and added, “Bet he writes poems about you in his free time.”

You scoffed. “Do you really think he’s that kind of guy? Have you seen him?”

Anton shrugged. “How would I know? I’m just making a guess since you’ve had the biggest crush on him for a long time and you once told me he looked like the kind of guy who writes poems for their girlfriend.”

You grimaced. “Ew. When did I say that?”

“When we were twelve,” he answered with a nonchalant shrug.

Your eyes widened slightly before you huffed. “Well, I was twelve. And I didn’t know what I was talking about.”

Anton scoffed mockingly. “No. He is that kind of guy. Romantic, spontaneous, and totally not like other guys who party till sunrise, chase after pretty girls and hookup for funsies,” he said sarcastically, smirking.

You turned to face him, your annoyance now outweighing your embarrassment. “What’s your problem?”

“No problem,” he said with a too-innocent shrug. “Just thought it was cute, that’s all. You’ve got a little admirer.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing a pack of skewers and tossing it into the cart. “Whatever. It’s none of your business, anyway.”

“Nice, sure,” Anton drawled, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I do hope you don’t end up as another notch on his bedpost by the time summer ends.”

“Are you seriously doing this right now?” you shot back in frustration.

He straightened up, his smirk softening into something you couldn’t quite read. “What? I’m just looking out for you. Making sure you know what you’re getting into.”

“By mocking me?”

“By being honest,” he corrected, leaning slightly closer, his voice dropping low enough to send a shiver down your spine.

You huffed, staring right back at him with no intention to back down. “Whatever I do this summer, whoever I do it with, is none of your business, Anton. Just keep doing what you’ve been doing since I got here. Keep ignoring me and continue acting like a total prick, because I’m done trying to figure out what I did so wrong to deserve this treatment from you.”

Anton’s smirk faltered, replaced by something harder to read. His jaw tightened, but instead of snapping back, he turned away. Without another word, he pushed the cart down the aisle, leaving you standing there, fuming and wondering if it was possible to strangle someone with barbecue tongs. 

The silence that followed felt heavy, pressing against your chest, but you refused to dwell on it. Let him walk away if he wanted. Let him stew in whatever self-righteous attitude he’d decided to adopt this summer. You’re done walking on eggshells around him.

In the evening, you gathered in the backyard with your mom and the Lee family, everyone moving around busily to prepare dinner—setting up the table, checking the grill, and bringing out the salads and sides.

The sound of sizzling meat, the laughter and chatter, along with the faint echo of the waves lapping at the beach made you feel nostalgic. Barbecue nights like this had been a staple of your summers here. You hadn’t thought about them much in the two years you were away, but now that you were experiencing it again, you realized how much you’d missed it.

You focused on your tasks, determined to push away the tension from earlier at the store. The last thing you wanted was to let Anton get under your skin.

But Anton had other ideas. He was stuck to you like glue. Every time you moved to do something, he was right there, offering to help.

While you were helping Aunt Hyejin arrange side dishes, you were also trying to brush off the occasional bump of Anton’s shoulder as he reached for something nearby. It was hard to ignore the way he hovered close—not enough to draw attention, but enough to keep your nerves on edge.

“Need anything?” he asked as you washed the lettuce.

You glanced at him, your expression flat. “No, I’m good,” you said, shaking the excess water off the leaves.

He didn’t seem to take the hint. “You sure? I can—”

“No,” you cut him off, tugging the lettuce away when he reached for it. “I can do it myself.”

He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly, but instead of arguing, he grabbed a tray of meat and started skewering it—purposefully working a little too close to where you were standing.

The family, oblivious to your silent war, carried on. Junyoung teased you about your time abroad, nudging you playfully. “Bet you missed this, huh?”

“Missed what?” you asked, playing along.

“This. You can’t get this kind of barbecue anywhere else.”

You laughed but didn’t answer because Anton spoke first. “Junyoung, didn’t Dad ask you to get the charcoal?”

“Oh, crap. Right.” Junyoung hurried off, leaving you and Anton alone at the counter.

Your eyes flicked toward Anton who seemed too immersed in his task. “Move. I need space for this,” you demanded, motioning to the tray in your hand.

His gaze shifted to you for a moment, before he returned to the meat and vegetables. “If you’re done with that, come help me with these,” he said flatly.

Scoffing, you picked up the tray of washed greens and headed outside.

Once everything was set up, you took a seat at the long table, intentionally placing yourself as far from Anton as possible. Plates were filled, glasses poured, and lively chatter filled the air. But just as you lifted your fork, Anton’s voice caught your attention.

“Junyoung, move over. I’m sitting there.”

Your eyes widened as Anton casually nudged his brother out of the way, sliding into the seat beside you without hesitation. Junyoung gave you a confused look, and you could only shrug.

Anton glanced at you as he settled in. “You don’t mind, right?” he asked, his tone almost too sweet, like he wasn’t giving you a choice.

You grimaced. “Do whatever you want. It’s your house.”

To your surprise, Anton became uncharacteristically attentive. He refilled your plate with meat, made wraps for you, and handed over dishes you couldn’t reach. You tried to focus on the conversation around you, but it was impossible to ignore the sincerity in his actions—or the way his gaze lingered a little too long.

It wasn’t long before Anton’s father spoke up, his deep voice cutting through the chatter. “Well, it’s nice to see you two getting along again,” he said, his gentle gaze flicking between you and Anton.

Anton raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a half-smile. “What do you mean?”

“The two of you,” his father replied, pointing at you and Anton. “I heard whispers about how you two weren’t speaking while I was gone. Did something happen?”

“You noticed that?” Anton asked.

Your mom chimed. “Oh, we all did. You’ve been inseparable since you were kids. Of course we’d notice if you suddenly act like strangers.”

“It’s good that you’ve made up. I thought we’d have to mediate some big falling out,” Aunt Hyejin added with a laugh, glancing between you and Anton.

Anton’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t say anything, focusing instead on the wrap he was making.

“It was weird,” your mom continued, clearly enjoying the opportunity to tease. “These two were like peas in a pod growing up. They’d even sneak out at night to stargaze on the beach together. Remember that?”

You groaned inwardly. “Mom, please.”

“Oh, don’t act embarrassed,” your aunt said, waving a hand. “It’s cute! We all thought it was adorable.”

Anton’s father narrowed his eyes playfully. “So, what happened? Did you fight?”

Before you could stammer out a reply, Anton finally spoke, his voice calm but firm. “Nothing happened. We’re fine.”

“That’s it?” his father pressed, clearly unsatisfied.

Anton glanced at you, his gaze lingering for a moment too long. “That’s it.”

The table erupted into laughter, with your mom and Aunt Hyejin exchanging knowing looks.

“Well, I guess all’s well that ends well,” your mom said, smiling. “You two were always quick to make up anyway.”

You tried to laugh it off, focusing on your plate and ignoring the way Anton’s arm brushed against yours under the table.

As the meal wrapped up and people began clearing plates, Anton stood abruptly. He didn’t announce anything to the table, just leaned down slightly toward you, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“Air?” he asked simply, gesturing toward the beach.

For a moment, you hesitated. Then, realizing the family’s focus was elsewhere, you pushed your chair back and followed him.

Anton led the way down the path toward the beach, hands in his pockets. You followed, keeping your eyes on the back of his head as your feet sank slightly into the cool sand. The sound of waves crashing on the shore stirred something in you—restlessness, maybe. Or nostalgia.

Then he stopped by the shoreline, where the water lapped softly, and sat down.

“Are you planning to stand there all night?” he asked, glancing up at you and tapping the space next to him.

You rolled your eyes and plopped down a few feet away, deliberately creating distance. The breeze tugged at your hair, and for a moment, neither of you spoke, letting the sound of the waves fill the silence.

“They think we’ve made up,” you said finally, breaking the stillness.

Anton huffed a quiet laugh. “They’ve got no idea, huh?”

“Not a clue,” you replied, smirking faintly. “I don’t even know why we were fighting. Or if it was even a fight in the first place. This is your fault.”

His brow quirked at that, but instead of biting back, he chuckled softly. “Maybe it was me. I’ll take the blame.”

“You’ve been sticking to me all night,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him. “Acting all nice, making wraps for me at dinner… What’s that about?”

Anton tilted his head toward you, his expression unreadable. “Why? You don’t like it?”

You shot him a look. “No, it’s just weird. You’ve been a prick all week, and now suddenly you’re trying to play nice. What’s your deal?”

He leaned back on his hands, eyes drifting to the horizon. “Maybe I just felt bad,” he said finally. “For these past few days, I mean.”

You snorted, trying to hide the way his sincerity caught you off guard. “So, what? It took you this long to feel bad?”

His gaze slid back to yours, and this time, it lingered. The playful edge in his expression softened, replaced by something quieter, something heavier.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

The words hung between you, stirring up emotions you weren’t prepared to unpack. You wanted to brush it off, to throw a snarky remark his way and shift the mood back to something you could handle, but the look in his eyes kept you rooted in place.

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but he beat you to it.

“I didn’t mean to treat you like that,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I didn’t mean to change… us.”

Your heart twisted, but you forced a scoff. “You didn’t mean it? Could’ve fooled me.”

Anton didn’t respond right away. He simply stared at you, his eyes tracing your features like he was seeing them for the first time. The ocean breeze carried the faint scent of the summer evening, and the sound of waves crashing filled the spaces his words left behind.

And for a moment, you thought he might close the distance. His shoulders shifted, his posture leaning ever so slightly toward you, his gaze dropping to your lips—so brief you almost thought you imagined it.

But just as quickly, he pulled back. His expression returned to the smirk you were all too familiar with.

“Welp, let’s not get too sentimental,” he said lightly, brushing sand off his hands as he stood up. “You might actually start thinking I’ve changed for the better.”

You blinked, caught somewhere between frustration and something softer, as he offered you a hand to help you up.

“I still haven’t decided if I like this version of you,” you muttered, brushing past him as you started back toward the house.

He chuckled, walking ahead of you and gently bumping your shoulder as he passed you. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

A part of you wondered if the conversation was done for the night. But as you glanced at the back of his head, you couldn’t resist one last question.

“Why did you do it?” you called out.

Anton slowed but didn’t stop, glancing at you over his shoulder. “Do what?”

You caught up, falling into step beside him. “Why’d you kiss me?”

He didn’t react right away, his gaze shifting back to the path ahead. “You’re asking me that now? Have you been thinking about it all week?” he asked with a teasing lilt in his voice.

“I’m serious. Come on,” you said, keeping your tone light but steady. “It’s not because you wanted to, right? I was just getting on your nerves, and there was no other way to shut me up. Right, Anton? Right?”

Your heart thudded in your chest as the silence stretched. Anton finally came to a stop, his hands slipping into his pockets as he turned to face you. The moonlight caught the faint curve of his smirk, but his eyes were unreadable.

“Wrong,” he said simply.

“What?” you blurted, waiting for him to elaborate, but he didn’t.

Anton turned and kept walking, leaving you standing there, staring after him as the word echoed in your mind.

The weekend at the beach house passed in a blur. After your conversation with Anton, things between you weren’t awkward anymore, but they weren’t exactly normal either. You talked like usual, bantered like usual, interacted like usual—everything was as usual. Except for when his eyes would focus on you every now and then—the kind of look that seemed to communicate something your mind couldn’t comprehend, but you knew they meant something.

Sometimes, when it was just the two of you—bringing drinks outside or crossing paths in the hallway—you found yourself running through a dozen different scenarios in your head. Ones where the air grew heavy, his hand brushed yours, and somehow, the silence ended in a feverish kiss. You weren’t sure where these thoughts were coming from, but they made you giddy and nervous at the same time, unsure how to handle the growing interest that crept quietly under your skin.

Soon, the day of the volleyball game rolled around, and you headed to the beach with your friends. Sungchan was easy to spot near the net, casually chatting with a group while fiddling with the ropes. When he caught sight of you, his smile stretched wide as he jogged toward you.

“You finally showed up,” he teased, hands on his hips.

You rolled your eyes at his dramatic tone. “I’m literally on time.”

“Late, early—it’s all relative.” He grinned, taking a step back and gesturing to the setup. “So, wanna be on my team? I’m giving you a chance to switch sides before we kick your team’s ass.”

You scoffed. “How generous. But I’ve already pictured your defeat in my head, so, no thank you.”

His laugh was easy, but you couldn’t ignore the way his gaze softened as it lingered on you. That familiar charm of his—it was almost effortless, but you knew what you had to say.

“By the way, I have something to tell you,” you said, glancing past the others before looking back at him.

“Sure,” he nodded, his smile dimming just slightly. “That look is making me nervous, but let’s hear it.”

You took a breath. “You’re a fun guy, you really are. You’re nice too. And to be honest, I had a crush on you since I was like—” you shrugged—“twelve? I think?”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, and I really enjoyed hanging out with you, but  I don’t think I want to be anything other than friends with you.”

For a second, you worried how he’d take it. But Sungchan just stared at you, then let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “I knew you’d break my heart eventually.”

“Sungchan—”

“I’m kidding,” he cut you off, flashing his usual grin. “It’s cool, really. You didn’t drag it out, so thanks for that.”

Relief washed over you. “I just didn’t want to keep you hanging.”

“I know. I really appreciate that,” he replied, his grin turning teasing again. “Gives me more time to get to know other people. Lots of pretty girls in town this summer, you know? They’d be thrilled to know I’m still available.”

You couldn’t help chuckling. “Did you really just say that out loud?”

“Why not?” he said, smirking. “We’re friends. There’s no need to filter my words around friends.”

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, but the laughter that followed between you both was easy and genuine.

The volleyball setup was simple but lively—teams were already strategizing, with Sungchan’s voice ringing out as he rallied his group together. You lingered near the sidelines, soaking in the warm sun and salty breeze, until a familiar figure stepped into your peripheral vision.

Anton.

His hair was a little tousled from the wind, and he had that usual air of nonchalance as he approached. You noticed the faint furrow in his brow as his gaze shifted from Sungchan back to you.

“Are you ready for this?” you asked, keeping your tone casual.

Anton ignored the question entirely. “What were you two talking about?”

“Sungchan?” you asked innocently, tilting your head. “Nothing much. Just clearing the air.”

Anton narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything, his jaw tightening slightly before he turned his attention to the players warming up.

“Didn’t think you’d actually referee,” you teased, eyeing his rashguard and short outfit.

“Someone has to keep things fair,” he replied, his tone dry as his eyes flicked to Sungchan, who was busy high-fiving his teammates.

You raised an eyebrow, catching his not-so-subtle focus. “What’s that look for?”

He shrugged, but his casual tone didn’t match the sharpness in his gaze. “Just wondering why you were all chummy with him.”

“What?” you said, rolling your eyes. “I told you. We were just talking. We’re friends. He’s nice.”

“Too nice, if you ask me,” Anton muttered under his breath, his jaw tightening. “You do remember that he’s older than us, right?”

You tilted your head, amusement tugging at your lips. “Is that jealousy I hear, Anton Lee?”

“Not jealousy,” he shot back quickly. “Concern. You shouldn’t be fraternizing with the enemy.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Enemy? Aren’t referees supposed to be neutral and not pick sides.”

Anton’s lips twitched, but his expression remained guarded. “Not when it comes to him.”

“Sounds personal,” you teased.

Before he could reply, Sungchan’s voice called from across the net. “Hey, MVP! You ready to show us what you’ve got?”

A confident grin spread across your face as you turned to him. “Hope you’re ready to lose,” you shot back, adjusting your stance.

Anton muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “cocky,” but you ignored him, stepping onto the sand with the kind of ease that came from years of practice.

The game started fast, with energy running high as the teams gave their all to the game. You were quick on your feet, diving for saves and landing precise spikes that sent the ball flying past the other team’s defenses more than once.

“Still got it,” you muttered to yourself after a particularly clean shot, wiping sand off your knees.

“Nice!” Hana cheered, and you all huddled for a high-five.

Sungchan whistled, shaking his head as he retrieved the ball. “Alright, I’ll give you that one. But don’t think you’re getting another easy point.”

“Easy?” Hana echoed, smirking playfully. “Your team’s been missing half your serves. Why don’t you concede?”

“Less talking, more playing,” Yejin retorted, clapping her hands loudly.

The banter drew a laugh from the sidelines, where Anton stood with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Still, you caught the slight twitch of his lips whenever you scored, even if he didn’t say a word.

During a quick break, Sungchan jogged over, tossing you a water bottle. “You’re making me work harder than I thought,” he said, flashing his signature grin.

“Good,” you replied, taking a sip and wiping your brow. “I’m just getting started.”

Sungchan stood there for a few seconds, watching you. Then, out of nowhere, he asked, “So, how are things with Anton?”

The water caught in your throat mid-sip, and you barely managed not to spit it out. Coughing, you waved him off as he laughed and patted your back. “What? Why would you even ask me that?”

“Has he told you about it yet?”

“About what?”

Sungchan raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Don’t make me spell it out. The guy’s practically wearing a neon sign over his head that says, ‘I’m in love with her.’”

You rolled your eyes, brushing off the warmth creeping up your neck. “You’re so dramatic. He doesn’t—”

“Sure, sure.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “But you’ve noticed, haven’t you? The way he gets all broody whenever we talk?”

“Broody?”

“You know, sulky. Jealous,” he grinned, casually draping an arm on your shoulder. “I didn’t think it would be so fun to tease him.”

Without thinking, you glanced over. Anton stood with his arms crossed, stealing glances at you and Sungchan. His face was unreadable, but the tight set of his jaw and the sharpness in his gaze gave him away.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, turning back to Sungchan, though your pulse quickened under Anton’s gaze.

Before he could respond, a sharp whistle broke through the conversation.

“Break’s over,” Anton called, his voice firm as he motioned for everyone to get back into position.

Sungchan glanced at him, then back at you, grinning like he’d just cracked a code. “See? Broody.” He threw you a wink before jogging back to his side of the net.

As the game resumed, you couldn’t help but notice Anton’s slightly biased officiating—whistling a little too loud when Sungchan’s team scored, or muttering under his breath whenever their team celebrated.

By the time the final point was scored—your team taking the win with a flawless spike—you caught Anton watching you again, his expression softening just slightly. But as quickly as it came, it was gone, replaced with his usual cool detachment as he blew the whistle to signal the end of the game.

The sound of cheers and laughter filled the air as your team huddled together, celebrating the win. Sohee slung an arm over your shoulder, grinning from ear to ear.

“Still the MVP, huh?” he teased, ruffling your hair playfully. “I don’t know why I thought this would go any other way.”

“Because you’re overconfident,” Hana chimed in, nudging Yejin with her elbow. “And we’re, you know, actually good at this.”

You smirked. “Don’t beat yourself up, though. You guys put up a good fight.”

“Good fight, my ass,” Sohee grumbled, flopping onto the sand dramatically. “We got obliterated. I’m never playing against you guys again.”

“Come on, Sohee,” you replied, tossing him a grin as you helped him up. “It’s just for fun. You didn’t do that bad.”

“He missed three serves in a row,” Hana deadpanned, earning a loud groan from Sohee.

“Okay, no need to rub it in!” Sohee huffed, dusting the sand off his hands.

Anton approached the group, his whistle still dangling from around his neck. “You all done patting yourselves on the back?” he asked, his tone neutral but his eyes briefly meeting yours.

“What exactly are we winning? Do we get a prize?” Yejin asked, looking around.

Sungchan shrugged. “Bragging rights?” he said with evident uncertainty in his tone and expression.

Your team groaned, unsatisfied. Sungchan stammered. “Hey, we didn’t decide on a prize when we talked about this game.”

Sohee raised a hand. “Okay, guys, since I’m basically responsible for our loss, ice cream’s on me for the winners. Losers can fend for themselves.”

“Wow, so generous,” Sungchan deadpanned, but he followed anyway, dragging his team along.

“It’s okay, dude,” Yejin said, clapping him on the back. “You’re rewarded enough. It’s not every day you get to play with an MVP.”

“You mean lose to an MVP,” Sungchan corrected, nodding toward you. “You’re a beast out there, seriously. Respect.”

“Respectfully defeated, you mean?” Hana teased, crossing her arms.

Sungchan shrugged, unfazed. “I’m not bitter. I’d rather lose to a skilled player than Sohee.”

“Okay, man. Low blow,” Sohee sighed, shoulders sagging in defeat.

Sungchan flashed you a knowing grin before his gaze flickered toward Anton. “Guess you’re proud of her too, huh, ref?”

Anton’s jaw tightened ever so slightly, but he only shrugged. “She’s decent.”

“Decent?” you echoed, narrowing your eyes at him. “Pretty sure I just carried my team to victory.”

“I’d rather not inflate your ego,” he retorted, smirking.

As the group headed toward the snack stand, you lingered for a moment, brushing sand off your legs. Anton hung back too, his gaze lingering on the horizon before he glanced at you.

“Decent, huh?” you said, crossing your arms as you turned to him.

His lips twitched. “You heard me.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “You could just admit you’re impressed.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he replied, turning toward the snack stand without waiting for a response.

Shaking your head, you followed, the playful energy from the game lingering in the air.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the group gathered around a bonfire on the beach. Drinks were passed around, the conversation flowing easily. More people arrived as the evening deepened, including some of Anton’s posh friends. They blended effortlessly into the group, their polished smiles and designer outfits standing out against the casual beachwear.

At some point, Sohee handed Anton a guitar with a knowing smirk. “Would you play something for us?”

Anton chuckled, adjusting the strap before strumming a few chords. The group around the fire cheered, and soon everyone was singing along, their voices blending beautifully with the melody Anton was playing.

You leaned back against the driftwood bench, watching him as his fingers glided over the strings with ease. There was something captivating about how relaxed he seemed—more confident, more self-assured. The shy boy you’d grown up with had always seemed happiest when he was off to the side, letting others take the spotlight. Now, he was in the center of it, getting attention without even trying.

In hindsight, this should’ve made you happy. Seeing him like this—more mature, more comfortable in his own skin—should’ve felt like a victory for the both of you. But you didn’t have time to process this because the joy of his transformation had been buried under your indignation, your frustration at being treated like a stranger.

You sighed and turned your gaze to the fire, trying to push the thoughts away.

Later, as the party stretched into the night, Sungchan plopped down beside you with a drink in hand.

“Long face at a party?” he teased, nudging your arm lightly.

You smiled faintly. “Just thinking about stuff.”

“Stuff like Anton?” he asked, raising a brow.

You gave him a side-eye, but his grin was disarming enough that you found yourself nodding. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” he echoed, leaning closer like he was fishing for details. “Come on, you can tell me. I’m great at giving unsolicited advice.”

That earned a laugh out of you. “Why are you nosy?”

He shrugged. “This is the most interesting thing that happened here since summer break started. I’m a little too invested.”

“Fine,” you chuckled, shaking your head. “Get ready.”

And so, you told him everything—how you and Anton had grown up together, spending every summer side by side, how he used to be this sweet, shy boy you adored. You told him about your silly teenage crush on him, how you’d skipped the last two summers, and how things were so different now that you were back. Sungchan listened intently, nodding along as you spoke.

“And then he kissed me,” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “And now I’m… I don’t know. I can’t tell if I’m falling for him again or if I’m just confusing old feelings for something they’re not.”

Sungchan leaned back, letting out a low whistle. “That’s a lot to unpack,” he said, then smirked. “But hey, you’ve got options. If it’s real, great. If it’s not, at least you’ll know. Either way, you win.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not exactly helpful.”

“Look, all I’m saying is, maybe stop overthinking it. You’ll figure it out,” he replied. “But if you’re asking me? I think you’re not confusing old feelings. It’s just that the old feelings are stronger now that you’re older and wiser. Well, not so wise, but still wiser than when you were sixteen.”

Your laugh came out startled. “What makes you think so?”

“Just a hunch,” he said, winking.

Before you could respond, a shadow fell over the both of you. You looked up to see Anton standing there, his expression unreadable as he glanced between you and Sungchan.

“Time to go,” Anton said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You frowned, leaning back against the bench. “It’s still early.”

Anton huffed, unfazed. “I’d hate to ruin your night, but I’m tired, so let’s just go.”

You groaned, glancing at Sungchan, who gave you an exaggerated pout. “Guess this is goodbye,” he said dramatically.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” you retorted, but you smiled as you stood. “Thanks for listening.”

He gave you a two-fingered salute as you turned to follow Anton.

As you walked up the beach, the sounds of the party fading behind you, you glanced at Anton. “Can’t you go home by yourself?”

“You think I’m dragging you along because I want to?” he asked back, glancing sideways at you. “Take it up to your two moms if you have a problem with it.”

You huffed. “I probably should. One can’t go home without the other? What are we, fifteen?”

Anton didn’t respond, but you caught the faintest smirk tugging at his lips as he walked ahead.

The car ride was too quiet for your liking. Anton kept his grip tight on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched, and you couldn’t ignore the hint of annoyance on his expression. 

You’d been stealing glances over at him, but he didn’t meet your eyes. The way he was acting—the sudden coldness after the bonfire, the way he pulled away emotionally—it was all too confusing and infuriating. 

“Anton, you’re angry,” you said, your voice low but steady. “What’s going on? Another mood swing?”

He finally looked at you, his eyes dark, the frustration in them almost raw. “Can you mind your own business?”

“I can if you stop making me feel like this was my business too.”

Anton let out a sharp exhale, and with a swift turn of the steering wheel, he pulled over to the side of the road, stepping on the brakes so abruptly, you were jolted forward, the seatbelt digging into your chest.

“What the hell—”

“What do you want me to say?” he cut you off, his voice rough.

“What do I want you to say?” you echoed, heart pounding as anger rose in your chest. “Are you serious? You’ve been treating me like a stranger since I got here. You’ve barely talked to me, and when you do, it’s like I’m the last person you want to be around. What do I want you to say?”

You scoffed incredulously. “I want you to tell me what I did so wrong to deserve this.”

Anton’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, his jaw clenching so hard it was a wonder it didn’t crack. When he finally spoke, his voice was lower, quieter, but no less intense. “I missed you. So fucking much.”

For a second, his words knocked the wind out of you. But the anger came rushing back. “That doesn’t make any fucking sense. You missed me, so you’re treating me like crap? What the hell, Anton?”

“I don’t know!” he snapped, his voice breaking slightly. He groaned, leaning back in his seat and pressing his hands to his face. “I don’t know, alright? I just—I couldn’t reach you. I couldn’t talk to you. You were supposed to be here, and you weren’t. And now you’re back, and I’m—” He broke off, dragging his hands through his hair in frustration.

You blinked, caught off-guard by the vulnerability in his voice. You opened your mouth to speak, but you didn’t know what to say so you closed it again. At that moment, it was as if the only thing you could do was reach out your hand and place it on his arm, squeezing gently in hopes that it would somehow comfort him, that it would be enough to express what your words cannot.

His head turned toward you, and the look in his eyes made your breath hitch. His gaze flicked to your lips, and before you could process what was happening, his hand was on your arm, pulling you toward him. Then his lips crashed against yours, desperate and unrestrained, like he couldn’t stop himself anymore. 

And you couldn’t pull away—not that you wanted to. Everything you had been holding back, everything you’d been pretending not to feel, was suddenly pouring out in that kiss.

He tugged you closer, his other hand sliding to your waist as the kiss deepened, raw and messy, with a kind of desperation that matched your own. You could feel his heavy breathing against your lips as his body tensed beneath you, and it only made you want to close the distance even more.  You wrapped your arms around his neck, clutching a handful of his hair because you needed to hold on to something—anything—that was real.

Anton’s hands moved to your neck, his touch possessive, as if he was trying to assure himself that you were here, that you weren’t going anywhere. You pulled away for a breath, your chest rising and falling quickly as you stared at each other, both of you trying to catch your breath.

“Anton…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He pressed his forehead to yours, his voice hoarse. “Don’t say it. Just—don’t say anything right now.” He kissed you again, one hand slipping under your shirt but you stopped him.

“No.” You pushed him away gently, your lips curving into a small smile. “Not here. Come on, dude. Not in the car. Let’s at least make this special.”

He leaned back, a short, dark laugh escaping him. “I just kissed you till you’re breathless, and you call me dude after?”

You laughed lightly, still breathless yourself. “Are you seriously gonna hold that against me instead of focusing on more pressing matters?” You glanced at the unmistakable bulge in his jeans.

Anton grunted, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as he shifted the gear stick, suddenly looking more determined than ever as he stepped on the gas.

You couldn’t help grinning at the look on his face. You reached for his chin, pulling him close just enough to press a soft kiss on his cheek. As you sat back, Anton’s fingers brushed against yours, holding your hand with a light squeeze as the car sped down the highway.

The house was quiet when you and Anton arrived. It was past 1am, and the soft hum of the house was the only sound that filled the air as you both tiptoed down the dimly lit hallway. Your footsteps were almost inaudible on the hardwood floor, but your heart raced in your chest. When you passed by his parents’ room, you both paused for a moment, checking for any signs of movement, worried that someone might wake up and catch you sneaking.

When you reached the upper floor landing, Anton grabbed your hand, pulling you closer to him. His lips brushed the side of your neck as you walked down the hall. The thrill of the risk only heightened your need for each other, and you couldn’t keep the smile from tugging at your lips as his hand slid to the small of your back, pressing you against him for a second.

“You’re gonna get us caught,” you whispered, though the mischief in your voice gave  away the fact that you were enjoying this too.

He groaned impatiently. “Why is your bedroom so far away?”

“It’s not, you’re just dramatic,” you chided softly, pressing a soft kiss on his lips and slipping away when he moved to cage you in his arms.

The need for each other was overwhelming, but you couldn’t risk waking anyone up, couldn’t let anyone see this side of you two yet.

When you finally reached your bedroom door, you turned to face Anton, curling your fingers in his shirt. “Don’t you dare go in there without me,” you said, pulling him toward you for another kiss, the same fervent kiss he’d been giving you all night.

As you both stumbled into the room, the door clicking shut behind you, everything else disappeared—the house, the people, the secrets. The room was quiet except for the sound of your uneven breaths. He was so close, his familiar face somehow different now, his eyes tracing yours like he was seeing you for the first time.

“This is insane,” you whispered, a shaky laugh slipping out as you broke eye contact. “Are we really gonna do this?”

“Oh, it’s totally up to you,” he said softly, his voice dipping lower as he tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear. “But right now, I can’t stop thinking about you… like this,” he added, his fingers brushing on the sleeves of your shirt, tugging it off slowly.

You let him undress you as your stomach fluttered at his confession. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you leaned forward, your lips meeting his. It started soft, tentative, like you were afraid to push too far. But then his hand found the back of your neck, pulling you in, and suddenly it wasn’t soft anymore.

The kiss deepened, years of restraint unraveling all at once. He laid you back against the bed, his weight hovering over you. As his lips trailed down your neck with slow and careful kisses, your mind began to spiral with a sensation that was both new and unfamiliar.

When he got rid of your bra and revealed your bosoms before his eyes, he had to take a moment and look at you—really look at you, with a face of disbelief and amazement. That gaze made you shy, but you tried not to show it, hoping he liked what he was seeing. 

“This feels… a bit different,” he murmured, meeting your gaze. His voice trembled slightly, and it struck you that he was just as nervous as you were.

“Because it is,” you whispered back, your fingers brushing against his cheek. “But it’s still us.”

That seemed to settle something in him. He leaned down to kiss you again, only for a short while before abandoning your lips and moving to your neck. He licked and nipped at your skin, leaving a slight sting that sent shivers down your spine—a delightful balance of pain and pleasure. His lips trailed down to your collarbone, the center of your chest, and the soft hollow beneath your breast before moving to suck on your nipple.

The sudden jolt of pleasure made you arch your back, stifling a gasp that almost tore out of your lungs. Anton continued, eyes locked with yours, studying every expression you were making.

His hands grew bolder, fingertips traveling to your belly, down to your sex with curiosity and reverence. His motions were gentle at first, tentative, as if testing the waters. But with each soft gasp or subtle shift of your body, his confidence grew. When his thumb brushed a spot that made you shiver, he paused, repeating the motion with a soft hum, like he’d just unlocked a secret meant only for him.

He already knew you so well—the way your eyes lit up when you were excited, the way your laugh sounded when you tried to muffle it, and the things that made you fold into yourself when you were upset. But this—this part of you—was new, uncharted territory neither of you had thought you’d ever explore.

“Didn’t know you could make that face,” he teased, tickling your ear.

A quiet laugh slipped out of you when his hand fumbled at an awkward angle. “You lost it,” you giggled and he let out a soft chuckle in return.

“Sorry. Where did it go?” he asked, grinning toothily. “Guess I’m not as smooth as I thought.”

You shook your head, still grinning, and cupped his jaw in your hand. “You’re doing fine.”

The laughter didn’t last long. It faded into urgency when you reached between his legs where his manhood was trapped in his tight jeans. Anton let out a pained grunt when your hand brushed it, murmuring “Fuck,” before backing away from you and stripping out of his clothes in a matter of seconds.

He dived back to your lips, crashing with intense fervor while his hand spread your legs wider. He held you tight as he positioned himself, shushing you gently as he slowly fitted himself inside. Every fiber in your body stood in attention, anticipating the delightful pain to shoot through you. And when it came, it was infinitely better than what you imagined.

Instinct took over as you clung to him, your pulse racing as he began to move at a languid pace, familiarizing before going at a steadier pace. The sheets twisted under your fingers, the soft rasp of his name escaping your lips as he pressed harder.

Every thrust ignited something inside you, every whispered murmur of your name leaving you more breathless than the last. You could no longer keep track of what was happening, too far gone to think clearly, but conscious enough to know you wanted more—more of him, more of this pleasure that was driving you insane in the best way possible.

After who knows how long, a throaty moan ripped out of you, your back arching as you let the high engulf you in waves. Anton kept his thrusts steady, riding through your high until your knees shook with too much stimulation. Then you fell back on the bed, limbs weak and your energy depleted.

When it was over, you lay tangled together, your pulse still racing as he held you in his arms. In the atmosphere was a quiet kind of understanding that didn’t need words. His heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, slowly pulling you out of the haze of desire.

You shifted slightly, looking up to find him already watching you. He was smiling, a little shy but undeniably happy. His hand slid up, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face before letting his fingers linger on your jaw. 

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you smiled. “Yeah. We’re okay.”

The next morning, you woke up with Anton’s arm still wrapped around you, his warmth enveloping you nicely. The sunlight poured into the room and for a moment, it felt like nothing else in the world mattered. Your body was still tingling from the night before, but you were content and happy.

Anton stirred beside you, his arm tightening instinctively around your waist. He buried his face in your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“You awake?” he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly along your jaw.

You smiled faintly, glancing up at him. “Yeah. We need to talk.”

He nodded, exhaling deeply as he stretched, the movement shifting you slightly before he pulled you close again. “Figured you’d say that,” he said, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. But then his expression softened. “I know I’ve got a lot to answer for.”

The night had brought you closer, but it had also left things unanswered, things that neither of you could avoid any longer.

You stayed quiet, letting him speak.

“I was an idiot,” he began, his tone quieter now. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away when you came back. I just... I didn’t know how to handle it.”

You blinked at him, watching his face and saw the faint flicker of guilt and uncertainty in his eyes. This was a side of Anton you hadn’t seen in a while—the one who let his guard down, even if only for a moment.

“I thought I’d lost you for good,” he continued, his voice steady but low. “You didn’t come for two summers. No calls, no texts—it felt like you disappeared, and I couldn’t do anything about it.”

You frowned. “No one told you I was away for uni?” you asked sarcastically.

He huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, I knew. But…” He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. We didn’t talk much in the last two years. Different time zones, schedules, and all. You were out there, living your life. I see your posts online. You were killing it in school, making new friends, living your life. Hell, you even had a boyfriend at one point.” He chuckled bitterly, the sound more self-deprecating than amused. Then he continued. “I guess I got insecure and thought you were content living a life without me in it.”

“Come on. That’s not true,” you defended, scowling.

“I know,” he said quickly, cutting you off. “I know that now. But back then, it just... I don’t know how else to say it—it messed me up. Like I said, I was insecure.”

“So I decided to live my life too, and it was good. I learned lots of new things, met lots of people, and discovered interests in fields I didn’t know I had interest in. It was great.” He paused, swallowing hard, then muttered, “Then mom said you were coming for summer this year and suddenly, I was thinking about you again. I realized that I wasn’t mad because I felt abandoned and forgotten. I was just… in love with you.”

You gasped softly, pulse racing at his confession. Anton smiled at you as he continued. “I didn’t know how to deal with that and I knew you’d leave eventually, so I thought if I acted like you were a stranger, it’d hurt less when you’re gone. Obviously it didn’t. It just made everything worse.”

You could feel the sincerity of his words, the honesty finally breaking through the wall he’d built.

“You didn’t have to go through all that,” you said gently, your hand cupping his cheek. “I never forgot about you, Anton. I could never, even if I try. You and me, we’re like, stuck with each other.”

A faint smile broke through his solemn expression. “You make it sound like a punishment.”

You chuckled softly, your fingers brushing through his hair. “I mean, for me, it kind of is.”

His eyes widened slightly, surprised. “For real?”

“No,” you replied quickly, grinning and wrapping your arm tighter around him.

Anton chuckled. “You’re annoying.”

“You’re one to talk,” you retorted, your voice gentle and light.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet between you filled with the soft hum of the morning. Then Anton sighed. “I don’t want to screw this up,” he said. “Not with you. Not again.”

“You won’t,” you promised, your head resting against his chest as his arms wrapped around you. “I’ll kill you if you do.”

Anton’s expression softened, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, I’ll do my best. I love living my life, you see.”

You nodded, resting your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek. There was no need for more words right now. You were finally on the same page, and for the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

No one knew, and that was the beauty of it.

To the outside world, nothing had changed. You and Anton had always been close, always spent summers attached at the hip, so when you were together—laughing over shared inside jokes or disappearing for hours at a time—it wasn’t out of the ordinary. No one thought to question it. But for the two of you, everything was different.

You snuck out late at night, barefoot and giddy, to watch the stars from the beach. Anton would bring a blanket and a bottle of his dad’s wine he swiped from the kitchen, and the two of you would lie there for hours, trading stories and stolen kisses. Sometimes, you’d just sit in comfortable silence, your fingers intertwined, his lips occasionally pressing against your temple.

In the mornings, you’d meet for coffee at the little café down the street, pretending it was a casual thing when your families asked. But as soon as you were alone, Anton would squeeze himself beside you, smiling as he held your hand in his. 

“Think they’re catching on?” he’d tease, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“No idea,” you’d reply, grinning. “We’d probably get married and they’d think it’s just us being silly.”

Anton gasped, covering his mouth. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

You rolled your eyes, feigning exasperation. “Oh my god. Can you go back to being nonchalant? I don’t miss your old dramatic self.”

“Aw,” he said cutely, leaning his head on your shoulder. “Come on, baby. You don’t mean that.”

You revisited the places you’d loved as kids, seeing them through new eyes. The old treehouse near the playground became your hideout, where you’d sit together, legs tangled as you reminisced about summers past. 

“You used to boss me around so much here,” Anton would say, laughing when you nudged him. “Still do, actually.”

“You love it,” you’d shoot back, and he’d smirk before kissing you, his hand slipping beneath your shirt in a way that made you forget whatever you were about to say next.

There were days when you explored each other in ways that left you breathless—your skin tingling, your heart racing. Anton was patient and attentive, his touch both gentle and electrifying. He’d study you like he was learning a language, his lips tracing paths across your body as if trying to commit every inch of you to memory. You discovered parts of him, too—little things he liked, the way he shivered when you kissed just below his jaw, the way he whispered your name like a prayer whenever you gave him the ride of his life.

You got to know him in ways you never had before, and it made you fall harder. Behind his teasing and occasional grumpiness, there was a gentle boy, a vulnerability that he only ever let you see. And you held it close, cherishing every piece of him.

Together, you built a world of your own—one filled with secret smiles, lingering touches, and endless laughter. No one else was privy to it, and you liked it that way. The privacy made it feel more sacred, more yours.

You were looking for some cards in the drawers in Anton’s room when you spotted something familiar. Pulling it out, you found an old photo tucked between the pages of a dusty book. It was from one of those endless summers, taken when you and Anton were maybe sixteen. The two of you were sitting side by side on the wooden dock, feet dipped into the water. His grin was wide, his arm slung lazily over your shoulders, and your expression was somewhere between laughing and rolling your eyes.

“Hey, Anton,” you called out, walking into the living room where he was sprawled out on the couch. He glanced up lazily, but his eyes immediately sharpened when he saw what you were holding.

“Where’d you find that?” he asked, reaching for it.

“In your room. You didn’t think I’d find it tucked safely in your old guitar book?” you teased, holding the photo out of his reach.

He shook his head, smiling faintly. “Man, I looked so good back then.”

You snorted, flopping down beside him. “You’re ridiculous. You look the same, just taller and with more expensive haircuts.”

He raised a brow at you. “And you?”

You grinned. “I peaked at sixteen. Obviously.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You were annoying at sixteen.”

“Funny you say that,” you said, leaning back into the couch, the photo still clutched in your hand. “Because I had a crush on you back then.”

The confession rolled off your tongue casually, but the way Anton’s head snapped toward you was anything but casual.

“You what?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

You shrugged nonchalantly. “No big deal. It didn’t even last long.”

Anton stared at you for a second, his expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, he crossed his arms and pouted, sulking like a child.

“That’s unfair,” he muttered.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What’s unfair?”

“That you stopped liking me,” he said, scowling. “Because I was in love with you around that time.”

Your mouth fell open. “No, you’re not.”

He grumbled something under his breath and refused to meet your eyes, but the tips of his ears were red.

“No, you’re not,” you repeated, half-laughing, half-shocked. You grabbed his arm and shook him playfully. “Come on, be serious. You’re lying, aren’t you?”

Anton just tutted and gave you a side-eye. Her mom walked in at that moment, struggling to hook her necklace.

“Sweetheart, come help me with this,” she asked, handing the jewelry to you. You quickly rose to help her. As you did, she narrowed her eyes at Anton and said, “Now, what’s going on? Are you guys fighting again?”

“Anton’s a liar,” you teased, glancing briefly at him. “He said he had a crush on me when we were sixteen.”

“Really?” Aunt Hyejin asked, tilting her head a little. She looked at you just as you finished locking her necklace. “You’re only finding out about it now?”

“Mom!” Anton interjected, standing up and dragging Aunt Hyejin away.

“What? I thought she knew the whole time,” Aunt Hyejin said, laughing as they disappeared into a corner.

You stood there dumbfounded and confused, though your heart was fluttering so much it made your cheeks burn.

Later that evening, you found yourself standing in front of a mirror. “Can you believe it?” you scoffed, turning toward Anton, who was buttoning up his shirt. “Me, going to Belle’s cocktail party?”

Anton, leaning against the doorframe as he adjusted his cufflinks. “If you hate it that much, we can just ditch.”

You rolled your eyes, smoothing out your skirt. “No. I’d love to see how you ended up being friends with those stuck-ups.” You paused, catching Anton’s gaze in the mirror. “Sorry, I forgot they’re your friends now.”

He smirked, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Well, they’re still stuck-ups. But they’re chill when you get to know them.”

You snorted. “We’ll see about that.”

Surprisingly, you did see. The cocktail party was better than you’d expected. The rich kids, despite their reputation, were easygoing and friendly once you got past their posh exteriors. Anton, fit right in as a rich kid himself, but his attention was never far from you.

At some point, someone mentioned Anton’s ‘first love’, and your ears perked up.

“He told us about her once, when he was drunk,” Belle said with a grin, sipping her drink. “ We’ve never seen Anton act and speak so cutely.”

You raised a brow, curious but playing it cool. “Really?”

Belle nodded, leaning in conspiratorially. “Yeah. Apparently, she used to tease him so much he wanted to strangle her half the time, but he also couldn’t imagine life without her.”

One guy added, “He even said she had this little laugh, you know, like a giggle that always got him. Man was a goner.”

“Yeah. He said she was his everything, but he was too scared to tell her. Isn’t that cute?”

Your heart skipped a beat as Anton avoided your gaze, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

Later, as you walked down the beach with Anton, your high heels dangling from one hand and your other hand holding onto his arm, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. The waves lapped at your feet, cool and soothing, as you glanced up at him.

“So,” you began, grinning, “I’m your everything, huh?”

Anton groaned, closing his eyes. “Don’t start.”

You laughed, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his jaw. “You’re so cute.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he muttered, but his hand tightened around yours.

You leaned against his chest, enjoying his warmth in the cool summer night.

“You were right,” you admitted, glancing up at him. “Your new friends aren’t so bad.”

“Told you,” he said smugly.

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t get cocky. I still think it’s hilarious you used to hate them and now you’re all buddy-buddy.”

Anton gave you a dry look. “Of course you do. I sometimes can’t believe it myself.”

You grinned mischievously. “Anton Lee, a social butterfly. Who would’ve thought?”

He chuckled softly. “Not me.”

The moonlight reflected off the water as you walked in comfortable silence, stealing kisses here and there. Your fingers were laced together, his thumb occasionally brushing against yours.

You glanced at him, the soft glow of the moonlight highlighting his features. It was hard to believe that this was the same boy you’d grown up with, the one who used to argue with you over who got the last piece of pizza or who could jump farther off the dock.

Being with him now, like this, felt surreal. But it also felt right.

“I still think you’re a loser, though,” you teased. Anton narrowed his eyes, and you saw the flicker of mischief in them a second too late.

“Take it back,” he said, his tone warning.

“Or what?” you taunted, stepping backward, a playful grin on your face.

He didn’t reply, already kicking off his shoes and rolling up his pants.

You shrieked, spinning around to run, the cool sand shifting under your bare feet. Anton’s laugh echoed behind you as he chased you down, his longer strides closing the distance easily.

“No!” you squealed, laughing so hard you could barely keep running.

It wasn’t long before he caught you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he lifted you off the ground. He spun you around, your laughter and shrieks echoing in the air.

Romantic relationships between childhood friends weren’t without their risks. You knew that. There was always the fear of ruining what had been there for so long, of losing not just a lover but a best friend. But as you glanced down at your intertwined hands, you realized you weren’t afraid.

Because no matter where life took you, as long as you were with Anton, you’d figure it out together.

[fin]