⟶ summary: in english 102 you were asked to write a letter to the future; you wrote to yourself while anton wrote to you. two years after graduation the letters return but you’re too late to be eighteen and too late to start again.
˗ˏˋpairing: nyu student!anton x f!reader
❀ genre: slow burn, friends to lovers, miscommunication trope + situationship
❀ word count: 20.8k
❀ staring: manon (18-24)- katseye, anton (18-23) + sohee (18-24)- riize, jake (25)- enhypen.
⟶ warnings: swearing, emotional cheating (present timeline), jealousy/possessiveness, miscommunication, ambiguous relationship dynamics (situationship), implied sexual content, consumption of alcohol, toxic relationship dynamic, angst, unresolved tension, “right person, wrong time,” open ending. please let me know if i’ve missed anything!
✎୭: this was so fun to write! started it last year around christmas then lost the drive but so glad i picked it back up!! i recommend listening to: before you leave me by alex warren, yard sale by alex warren, i'll be waiting by cian ducrot choir version (fun fact, this is the song that inspired this fic), phases by pretty much and this city by sam fischer. enjoy my butterflies <3
NYU freshman year
You don’t think you’ll ever forget the day you met Anton Lee.
The way he smiled as he steadied the side of your bookshelf while you fumbled with the screws. The way he pointed to the stack of novels still waiting in their box and asked you a million and one questions about each and every one of them: why you owned them, what they were about, which ones you loved and which ones you thought to be overrated. He didn’t even seem to notice that you were sweating from the effort of screwing in the nails, too caught up in listening to your rambling answers to help steady the bookshelf.
It was move-in weekend. Your parents had driven away the night before, leaving you with swollen eyes and a lump in your throat while your roommate Manon laughed at you all night for crying. She called you a baby and said you’d survive but truth is, survival didn’t feel possible until two mornings later when Anton and his roommate Sohee came knocking on your door.
They came bearing gifts: bagels and watery hot chocolate stolen from the dining hall. “We saw you moving in,” Anton had explained quickly, voice tumbling over itself. “Thought maybe you could use some help.”
Then Sohee, grinning, lifted the plate in his hands and added, “Plus, we saw you at the frat party last night. Figured you’d need food.”
Manon gasped like they were saviors then shoved you aside to grab the first bagel and announced right then and there that the four of you were friends now. You could only laugh, stepping back to let them in, not realizing you’d just opened the door to the rest of your life.
From that morning on, the four of you were impossible to untangle. What was meant to be a favor quickly became a habit; Anton and Sohee were always at your door and Manon always let them in.
Friday nights meant football games where you painted your faces in sloppy stripes and screamed yourselves raw from the bleachers, even though you didn’t understand half the rules, just that your school was winning and that was enough.
Saturdays were for swim meets with posters in hand watching Anton slice through the water and touch the wall first every single time. His cheeks always burned when you swore he’d be captain next year, shrugging off the praise even as pride bloomed in his chest.
Sohee had his concerts. The three of you filed into the auditorium with flowers clutched tight, screaming every time he had a solo until the choir director threatened to throw you out. You would struggle to keep in your laughs for the rest of the night.
And then there was ballet (Manon’s bright idea), an elective she convinced you to take, neglecting to mention you’d be performing on stage three times that semester but Anton and Sohee showed up anyway, front row with phones raised high, clapping politely like you were professionals. Without fail, they always took you and Manon out to dinner afterward because they knew how hungry you’d be.
When November came around and the semester started to come to a close, you pushed tables together in the dorm lounge for Friendsgiving, each of you bringing something from home. Anton and Sohee taught you about their Korean traditions, Manon brought a mix of her Ghanaian and Swiss dishes and you explained yours between laughter while food was passed around. It felt like home.
They felt like home.
By December there was a tiny Christmas tree you and Anton decorated while Manon and Sohee strung lights around your room. You exchanged cheap gifts wrapped in too much tape and cards scribbled with words that mattered more than the presents themselves. When you all went away for the holidays, you kept in touch, making plans for what the spring semester would hold.
When spring finally rolled around, it didn’t feel quite as terrifying as fall had. New York was no longer something you were surviving but somewhere you were beginning to belong to.
You built your schedules together over late-night takeout the first week, promising to meet for lunch between classes and somehow you all ended up in the same section of English 102.
You were the only one who treated it like it mattered, you figured it was the English major in you. Manon used it as an extra hour of watching shows, Sohee half the time scribbled choreography notes in the margins or finished homework for music theory and to give Anton credit, he at least paid attention…even if you sometimes caught him doodling staff lines in the corners of his notebook.
It was a small class, tucked into one of the older buildings and the professor had a habit of asking open-ended questions that usually went unanswered but you liked her. She had a soft spot for fiction and a drawer full of chocolate she passed around during presentations.
The second semester moved faster than the first. There were fewer homesick nights and more impromptu trips to Chinatown; more movie nights in the dorm lounge with popcorn that always burned; more inside jokes scribbled onto whiteboards in the dorm halls; more of Anton sitting cross-legged on your bed with his guitar asking you to read his lyrics out loud just to hear how they sounded coming from someone else.
It’s the last week of classes and Sohee and Manon both opted to skip, completely over the school year while you decided to go, Anton tagged along so you wouldn’t be alone. The classroom is only half full and students are lounging around studying for their last finals.
You’re in the front row with Anton beside you, passing the time with a game of tic-tac-toe in the margin of his notebook until your professor claps her hands together. “Alright,” she calls, smiling at the groans she knows are coming. “Time to go over your last assignment of the semester and don’t worry, it’s not an essay.”
She reaches for a stack on her desk and lifts a small box of envelopes. “I want you all to write a letter. It can be to yourself, to a classmate, to anyone who’s made an impression on you during your freshman year. Seal it up, give it to me and I’ll send them back to you…two years after you graduate.”
You pout at the catch, two years? You glance at Anton expecting a joke but he’s sitting unusually still. His pencil, the one he always chews on, is balanced between his fingers frozen mid-tap against his notebook. You nudge him. “Earth to Anton?”
He blinks out of whatever world he drifted into and awkwardly laughs. “Yeah? Sorry…just thinking about who to write to.”
“Yourself,” you say easily, already reaching for the envelope your professor is passing down the row.
He hums noncommittingly and reaches for an envelope, turning it over in his hands slowly.
You don’t waste time and start writing immediately. You sign and date the corner of your lined paper and start spilling little pieces of who you think you’ll become. You ask future-you about the bestseller you hope you’ll write, ask if you officially move to New York, you add a line about Manon wondering if the two of you really commit to living together postgrad. Then you steal a peak at Anton who still seems to be lost in thought before hesitantly writing: I hope we stay close.
You don’t think much of it, it’s a throwaway sentiment. When you finish, you look up and see Anton still hasn’t written a single word. His notebook is blank, still untouched almost like he’s afraid to write.
“You okay?” you whisper.
He startles again. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m—I’m fine.”
He clears his throat, flips open his notebook and finally starts writing but not in his usual messy handwriting, rather slower and neater. You can’t see a single line of what he writes and you don’t try to. It feels…private.
When the lecture is over, your professor calls out. “Alright, pass them forward!”
You lick your envelope, seal it closed and hand it off. Anton hesitates for a moment before sealing his and slides it into the pile with everyone else’s. As you pack your bag, you say, “Kinda weird to think we’ll get these back in what…five years?”
He hums softly. “Feels so far.”
You don’t notice the way he looks at the envelopes as your professor tucks the box under her arm. You don’t notice the way his fingers flex like he’s itching to pull his back out. Once you make it outside Anton bumps your shoulder playfully as you walk. “Lunch?” he asks.
You smile and loop arms with him. “Obviously.”
You don’t think about the letters again.
Present Day
“Happy birthday to you~”
You stir awake to the faint sound of someone humming low and off-key in your ear. For a split second, you think it’s Manon, already back from whatever glamorous event she’s working in Paris this week but when you blink your eyes open, it’s your boyfriend Jake sitting at the edge of your bed, hair messy, still shirtless and holding a cupcake with a crooked candle stuck in the middle.
“Happy birthday to you…” he sings softly, dragging out the tune like he’s trying not to laugh at himself. When you groan and drag the blanket over your head, he nudges your leg gently with his knee. “Nope. Come on, you have to listen.”
You groan and roll onto your back covering your eyes with both hands. “Jake, it’s too early for this.”
“It’s nine,” he says through a laugh before going back to singing.
You peek at him between your fingers and see his proud smile and you don’t have the heart to argue. When he finishes, he leans over to kiss your forehead then whispers, “Happy birthday, pretty girl,” before offering you the cupcake.
You sit up, eyes still heavy with sleep, hair a mess and voice rough. “Where’d you even get a cupcake?”
He tilts his head towards your door “Bodega downstairs. I told them it was your birthday and he insisted on giving me the biggest one.”
You smile despite yourself and bite into the cupcake. A few crumbs fall causing Jake to brush crumbs from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. There’s something so intimate about it you glance away for a second, suddenly aware of the quiet apartment around you. Manon’s job as a social media coordinator for a global beauty brand has her in Europe more often than in the apartment you’ve shared since graduation. You barely see her these days except for late-night FaceTimes and the rare occasions when she’s home.
And Jake…well, Jake has slowly filled the leftover space.
You met him last spring at a mutual friend’s housewarming party; soft-spoken, polite, a little awkward but in a cute way. He works in Manhattan as a business analyst, wears button-downs even on weekends and chips in towards your rent on months you’re behind. He’s the kind of guy your parents hoped you end up with.
“So,” he says, settling beside you, his knee bumping yours. “What does the birthday girl want to do today?”
You shrug. “I work today, remember? Manuscript review.”
He frowns. “Are they seriously making you work on your birthday?”
“That’s the life of an editorial assistant,” you joke, nudging him. “Also, I really don’t mind. It’s kind of relaxing.”
He doesn’t look convinced but he wraps an arm around your shoulders anyway, pulling you into his side. You let yourself fall against him, warm and comfortable, your cheek resting on his chest. Your life isn’t perfect, you’re two years out of graduation, living with a best friend who’s never home, working a job that’s adjacent to the dreams you once wished on stars for but it’s safe and Jake has become part of that.
He kisses the top of your head. “Well, my parents want to take us out tonight. They reserved that Italian place you love downtown. They’re excited to celebrate with you.”
Your stomach flips. Jake’s parents adore you, they treat you like you’re already part of the family. His mother meal preps for you and his father forwards you articles about “the best books to read in your twenties,” because he thought you’d appreciate it as an aspiring author.
It should make you happy but somewhere in the back of your mind, a tiny voice reminds you of a ghost from your past, someone you thought would be your forever. You shove the thought away. Jake is watching you, fingers still drawing circles on your knee, waiting for your reaction. You force a smile. “That sounds…nice.”
He beams at you. “Great! The reservation is for six pm.”
Jake takes your plate from you and sets it aside on your nightstand before crawling back toward you on the bed, his knee sinking into the mattress beside your hip.
“You know,” he murmurs, brushing your cheek gingerly, “you look really, really beautiful right now.”
You huff a sleepy laugh. “I look like a raccoon.”
He dips down to kiss the tip of your nose. “A beautiful raccoon.”
You swat his chest but he only laughs, leaning in to kiss you properly this time. His lips move against yours with a fervour that leaves you breathless. His hand slides to the back of your head, his thumb grazing the curve of your jaw as his ring presses coolly against your skin. You gasp and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss.
“____,” he groans against your lips, his voice filled with need.
You nod, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. He pulls back just barely, lips brushing yours as he whispers, “Let me spoil you today.”
“Jake…” you start but he kisses the rest of your sentence away, smiling against your mouth.
His hands trail down your sides, fingertips tracing lazy lines over your hips. You shiver and he notices. “Come here,” he breathes, shifting suddenly. Before you can question it, his arms scoop under your thighs and back, lifting you effortlessly off the bed. You gasp, arms flying around his shoulders. “Jake!”
“What?” he teases, carrying you toward the bathroom with ridiculous ease.
“Put me down!”
He laughs and shakes his head. “No.”
You try to glare at him but it’s impossible when he’s looking at you like this: totally in love. He nudges the bathroom door open with his foot, sets you gently against the counter and presses another kiss to your forehead. “Shower with me?”
His fingers toy with the hem of your sleep shirt, waiting for your answer. You breathe out a tiny laugh. “Are you trying to make us both late?”
He smirks. “Maybe.”
“Well…” you slide your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, “I guess we can be a little late.”
His grin turns boyish and triumphant. “Have I ever told you I love you?”
You laugh in response as he turns on the water, steam already curling through the room. You kiss him again, slow, sweet and a little dizzying. He smiles into it, hands tightening at your hips. For a few minutes, nothing exists except the heat of the room, his lips on yours and the familiar comfort of being held exactly how you want to be held. Eventually, he pulls back, brushing a thumb along your jaw one last time. “Okay,” he breathes, trying and failing to look composed, “we should actually get ready now.”
You nod but neither of you move until he leans in for one more soft kiss, barely a brush of lips, gentle enough to make your chest tighten. The two of you take turns washing the other off before exiting the shower to finish getting ready.
You brush your teeth beside him while he wipes steam from the mirror. It’s a familiar routine: him toweling off his hair while you lean over the counter to apply moisturizer. His overnight bag sits in the corner, small and a little pathetic-looking, holding only a few shirts and a toothbrush. He’s mentioned wanting a drawer here more than once, half-joking, half-hopeful. You always deflect with something logical like, “You don’t sleep over enough,” and he laughs it off but the truth sits heavy in your chest even now.
The last person who ever had space in your dresser…the last person whose hoodies lived on your chair, whose shirts were folded next to yours, whose medals hung on your desk when his dorm ran out of space…
You shut the thought down before it forms completely.
Jake buttons his shirt next to you, humming softly as he tucks it into his slacks and you force your heartbeat back into the present. “You look beautiful,” he says, straightening your collar with both hands and kissing your cheek. “Ready?”
You nod, stepping into your shoes while he slings his bag over his shoulder. A moment later, he takes your hand gently, squeezing once and the two of you head out the door together.
By the time you make it to the office, the day slips into its usual rhythm. You spend most of the afternoon hunched over your desk, flipping pages and scribbling notes in the quiet hum of the office. It’s not glamorous, not what you used to imagine when you thought about becoming a writer but it’s close enough to feel like you’re still reaching for it. Close enough to keep you here.
At some point, your coworker swings by with a quick, “Happy birthday,” dropping a mini chocolate bar onto your desk before disappearing again. You thank her, a little surprised, turning it over in your fingers before setting it aside.
You check your phone more than you mean to.
A text from Manon, some blurry photo from a rooftop in Paris, miss you, birthday girl!!! followed by a string of hearts.
Another from Jake: Can’t wait for tonight. What kind of cake do you like?
You purse your lips at the question before typing something back but your fingers hover for a second longer than they should before you lock your phone and flip back to the manuscript in front of you.
By the time five o’clock rolls around, you’re gathering your things, slipping your notebook into your bag, the weight of the day settling into your bones. The city greets you with its usual hum: taxis blaring, people rushing, the air thick with late afternoon heat as you make your way down into the subway.
The train ride home is familiar. You stand wedged between strangers, one hand wrapped around the pole as the car lurches forward. You watch your reflection flicker in the window between stops, your mind drifting in and out of nothingness.
By the time you step back into your apartment, the silence greets you again. You move through it easily, showering quickly, changing into something nicer, smoothing out the details until you look like someone who has her life exactly where it’s supposed to be.
At exactly six, your phone buzzes.
jake <3: I’m outside.
You grab your bag, take one last look at yourself in the mirror then head downstairs. Jake is leaning against his car when you step out, a bouquet of flowers in one hand. He straightens the second he sees you, his entire face lighting up. “Wow,” he breathes. “You look…wow.”
You laugh, walking toward him. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he echoes, stepping forward to kiss you softly before handing you the flowers. “Happy birthday.”
“They’re beautiful,” you say, genuinely touched as you bring them closer.
“Wait,” he says quickly, reaching into his pocket. “I have one more thing.”
You blink as he pulls out a small, familiar red box. Your stomach dips slightly. “Jake…”
“Just open it,” he insists, smiling.
You hesitate for half a second before flipping it open. Inside sits a delicate gold Cartier bracelet, the light catching against it in a way that makes it sparkle. It’s beautiful no doubt about it but also unmistakably expensive.
For a moment, you don’t say anything. “Do you like it?” he asks, watching your face carefully.
You blink, forcing yourself back into the moment. “Yeah! Yeah, it’s…it’s really beautiful.”
“I saw it and thought of you, something you could wear every day.” He says, stepping closer. “Here, let me.” He adds gently, taking it from the box. “
You hold out your wrist and he fastens it carefully, his fingers brushing your skin as he adjusts it into place. He beams, clearly satisfied, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before opening the passenger door for you. “Come on. We’ll be late.”
Dinner goes by smoothly.
His parents greet you like they always do, his mother pulling you into a hug, his father smiling warmly as he asks about work, about writing, about everything you’ve been up to. The restaurant glows softly around you, low lights and quiet chatter filling the space as wine is poured and plates are passed. Conversation flows naturally. You laugh when you’re supposed to, answer questions easily, slip into the rhythm of it all like you’ve done this a hundred times before.
And then—
“Well, I was just telling Jake the other day…it won’t be long before we’re celebrating something even bigger, will it?” His mother says, setting her glass down with a small smile, her eyes flicking between the two of you.
Your hand stills in his and Jake lets out a small, awkward laugh. “Mom…”
“What? You two are so good together. Anyone can see that.” She says lightly.
His father chuckles. “Don’t mind her, she’s still upset that your brother eloped.” He turns to face you, “you’re already part of the family, hun.”
You nod automatically, the word family settling somewhere in your chest in a way that feels heavier than it should. “That’s sweet,” you say.
Jake squeezes your hand under the table in reassurance, like this is something good…something to be happy about and it is, it should be.
This is what people want, isn’t it? Warm dinners, parents who already look at you like you belong. A boyfriend who plans ahead, who shows up early with flowers and expensive gifts.
You used to think you wanted this. You still think you do. So why does it feel like you’re sitting just slightly outside of your own life, watching it happen instead of fully living it? You smile when Jake’s mom asks you another question, nodding along, answering without really hearing yourself. The conversation flows around you but your thoughts have already drifted somewhere quieter, somewhere harder to look at.
This isn’t how you imagined twenty-three.
You thought it would be louder, messier. Late nights that bled into early mornings, candles stuck into a store-bought cake at midnight because someone forgot to plan ahead. You thought there would be party-city decorations taped unevenly to the walls, balloons already starting to deflate.
You thought there would be handwritten cards, messy, rushed and filled with inside jokes. Cards that meant more than the gifts themselves.
You’ve spent so long telling yourself this is what you wanted: a life that makes sense, a relationship that feels safe, a future that doesn’t come with question marks attached and now that you’re sitting in the middle of it, surrounded by everything you once thought would make you feel whole, all you can focus on is the quiet, unsettling feeling that something is off.
That maybe wanting something for so long doesn’t mean it’s right when it finally finds you.
Jake squeezes your hand gently, grounding you just enough to pull you back into the moment. “Everything okay?” he asks, his voice low.
You nod too quickly, offering him a smile that feels convincing enough. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
And you almost believe it.
Nothing here is wrong. There’s nothing to point to, nothing to explain why your chest feels this tight, why your thoughts keep drifting just out of reach, why you feel like you’re standing on the edge of something you can’t quite name. So you let the conversation pull you back in, let yourself laugh when you’re supposed to, respond when spoken to, slip back into place like you’ve done all night but the feeling doesn’t go away.
It lingers, a persistent question you’re not ready to answer: why does something you’ve wanted for so long feel so unfamiliar now that you have it?
NYU sophomore year
You don’t realize what time it is until it’s already too late.
Your laptop screen is the only light in the common room, the rest of the floor is quiet. Your fingers move quickly over your keyboard, words spilling out faster than you can second guess them, the story in your head finally taking shape.
Manon had been there at some point, curled up on the couch scrolling through her phone but you barely noticed when she got up. Sohee had said something about grabbing water, or maybe snacks before disappearing. Anton had been sitting across from you, half-watching whatever you were writing, half-doodling in the margins of his notebook. You don’t remember when he left either.
You’re too deep in your fictive world to notice how all your friends have slowly abandoned you until a voice cuts through. “Yo.”
You glance up to see Anton leaning against the doorway, hair slightly messy, hoodie sleeves pushed up his arms. “I think I left my captain’s hoodie in your room,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “Can you come check? I don’t wanna just go in there if you’re not—”
“Oh, yeah,” you say immediately, already pushing your chair back. “It’s probably on my desk.”
You follow him down the hall, still half in your story and unaware of the date and time. When you reach your door he lets you walk in first. The second the door opens you’re met with confetti to the face.
“Surprise!”
You jump so hard you almost drop your phone. Streamers fly into your line of vision, balloons bobbing against the ceiling as Manon and Sohee burst out from either side of your room, laughing as they shout over each other. “Happy birthday!”
You blink, completely stunned, your brain scrambling to catch up as you take in the decorations strung haphazardly across your walls, the pile of half-inflated balloons in the corner, the cheap plastic banner taped slightly crooked above your bed.
“Oh my gosh! What!? when did you??” You laugh breathless, pressing a hand to your chest.
“We’ve been planning this all week,” Manon says proudly, already reaching for you, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you lightly.
“You were too busy ignoring us, writing your little stories to notice,” Sohee adds, grinning.
“I was not ignoring you!” you protest, laughing as you turn in a slow circle, taking everything in.
Up close, the details start to settle. You notice the fairy lights, finally. They’re strung the same way you always keep them but now they’re lined with polaroids of tiny moments clipped between the wires. You step closer without thinking and reach up to examine one between your fingers.
There’s one from your latest group trip to China town, Sohee had taken it after you had all gotten matcha at a new cafe. There’s another of you asleep on Anton’s lap, you think it’s from midterms week. One of Anton, taken from further away standing by the pool, hair still wet, turning toward the camera like he didn’t realize he was being watched and then one of all four of you, squeezed together in your dorm room, slightly blurry but unmistakably yours.
“You guys…” you start but your voice trails off.
Behind you, a match strikes. You turn just as Anton leans over a small cake, carefully lighting each candle one by one, tongue pressing lightly against his cheek. The flicker of the flames catches in his eyes as he straightens then he starts to sing. “Happy birthday to you…”
Sohee joins in almost immediately, louder and off-key on purpose and Manon follows right after. Anton steps closer as he sings, holding the cake out toward you, the candles casting a soft light across his face. He’s smiling as he reaches the end. “…happy birthday to you.”
The song ends with laughter and clapping, Sohee whooping loudly while Manon squeezes your arm. Anton just nods toward the candles. “Make a wish.”
For a second, everything fades and all you can think about is this moment, the three people standing around you, the way it feels to be surrounded by something this loving. You wish, simply, that it never changes. That the four of you stay like this, that this…whatever this is, lasts.
You blow out the candles.
“Okay! Cut the cake I’m hungry.” Sohee cheers immediately.
Anton disappears for a second, setting the cake down to grab plates and a plastic knife. When he comes back, he hands you the first slice. You glance down at it, then back up at him. “Wait…this is my favorite!”
He shrugs like it’s nothing. “You mentioned it once.”
“When?” You ask.
“During Sohee’s birthday. You were complaining about the flavor.” He says, already cutting another slice.
You let out a scoff, shaking your head. “I was not complaining.”
“You were,” Sohee calls from across the room.
You playfully roll your eyes, “yeah well who wants an ice cream cake for their birthday? You can eat ice cream whenever!”
Anton huffs a quiet laugh, handing out the rest of the plates. Manon grabs your arm again before you can think too hard about it, pulling you toward the center of the room. “No more talking. We’re dancing.”
Before you can respond, Sohee is pushing something into your hands, a flimsy plastic sash that reads BIRTHDAY GIRL in glittery letters and Manon is already placing a slightly crooked tiara on your head.
You go along with it, laughing as she spins you around, the tiara slipping slightly and the sash twisting awkwardly across your chest. At some point, you catch Anton watching you from across the room. He’s leaning back against your desk, arms crossed loosely, a half-smile playing at his lips like he’s trying not to laugh at you.
You don’t linger on it. You let yourself get lost in the music and the company of your friends. Grateful to have a found family.
After your birthday, things don’t change. At least not much…not really.
The four of you still move through campus like a unit, still fall into the same routines, the same late-night hangouts and shared meals and crowded study sessions. You still end up in each other’s rooms, still spend weekends bouncing between games and practices and whatever last-minute plans Manon decides are non-negotiable.
Somewhere in the middle of it all though, something shifts…between you and a certain chestnut haired swim captain.
Anton ends up in your room more often, stretched across your bed with his head propped against your pillow while you sit cross-legged beside him, laptop balanced on your thighs. At first there’s always space between you, enough to pretend nothing’s different.
Until there isn’t.
Until one night you realize you're laying down now, shoulder pressed against his, your arm brushing his every time you move, neither of you shifting away. Until another night turns into you curled slightly into his side, his hoodie bunched under your cheek, his breathing slow and steady beside you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
No one says anything about it.
Lunches start happening without the others. At first it’s accidental, running into each other after his swim practice, both of you starving, deciding to grab something quick before your next class but then it becomes a habit. “Just us,” he’ll say, like it doesn’t mean anything. As if it’s not becoming something.
You wander through the city together, ducking into small places you find on a whim, sharing fries, trading bites, talking about everything and nothing all at once. He listens when you ramble about your stories, asks questions like he actually cares about the plot and fictional worlds you build. You start saving things to tell him.
You don’t realize you’re doing it until it’s impossible to ignore. Late nights turn into later ones. Text messages that stretch past midnight, then one, then two, until your phone is the last thing you see before you fall asleep and the first thing you reach for when you wake up. Your 8AM classes become harder to sit through, your focus slipping in and out because you’re thinking about something he said hours ago, replaying it without meaning to.
“Why are you smiling at your phone like that?” Manon asks once, eyeing you from across the room.
“I’m not,” you say too quickly, locking your screen.
She hums unconvinced but lets it go. You start doing that more than you’d like to admit, shrugging things off, brushing past questions, lying to your friends…to yourself.
You tell yourself it’s nothing, that when you choose to sit next to him instead of across from him, when your knees brush under the table and neither of you move that it’s platonic. You tell yourself that when people start to notice.
“You two are always together,” Sohee says one night, not accusing, just observant.
“We’re literally all always together,” you shoot back, a little too fast. Manon glances between the two of you, something knowing flickering across her face before she looks away.
You laugh it off. You tell yourself it’s easier that way because nothing happens. There are no confessions, no grand moments you can point to and say that’s where it changed. No one crosses a line that can’t be uncrossed. If anything, the two of you become experts at hovering just beneath it, circling something unspoken and pretending it isn’t there.
You let it, whatever it is, exist in that in-between space. Until it’s everywhere. Until it’s the first person you look for in a room and the last person you say goodnight to. Until it’s his hoodie thrown over your chair, his water bottle sitting next to yours, his name lighting up your phone more than anyone else’s.
It's not until you're packing up to go home for summer break do you realize the cold hard truth: you've fallen for Anton Lee and you have no idea what to do about it.
Present Day
It’s been a week since your birthday and dinner with Jake’s parents. Manon is back, the apartment finally feeling like itself. She has music low in the background as she sits cross-legged on the living room floor with her laptop open, clips from Paris flashing across the screen as she edits.
You’re in your room, standing in front of your mirror, finishing your makeup while Jake lingers behind you. Today is date night. He’s already ready, button-down crisp, sleeves rolled slightly and watch fastened neatly at his wrist. He’s been watching you for the past few minutes, leaning against your dresser patiently waiting on you. “You almost done?” he asks.
“Almost…two seconds.” You say, leaning in to swipe mascara across your lashes.
“Mm,” he hums, pushing himself off the dresser. You don’t notice when he starts moving around your room, his attention drifting to the little things you’ve left out, your books stacked unevenly on your desk, the loose papers of your novel you edit at night, the memory box that sits in between your bed and night stand.
It’s tucked just slightly out of place, the lid not fully closed from the last time you went through it. Jake pauses, glancing toward you for a second before crouching down, curiosity getting the better of him. You’re still focused on your reflection when he lifts the lid.
Jake smiles faintly when he finds the box filled with letters and polaroid. He starts flipping through the pictures one by one; Manon mid-laugh, Sohee mewing at the camera, a blurry shot of what looks like a dorm hallway. He keeps shuffling through them until he comes across a picture of you and a man he’s never seen before.
“Babe. Who’s this?” He calls, turning the photo slightly in his hand.
You turn just enough to see what he’s holding and your stomach drops. It’s you after Anton’s swim comp wrapped in his captain's hoodie while he stands beside you, medal hanging from his neck and arm slung loosely around your shoulders.
You move before you can think about it. “Jake!” you cross the room quickly, faster than you mean to, snatching the photo and the box from his hands in one motion. “Why are you going through my stuff!?”
Jake blinks, thrown off, hands lifting slightly in defense. “Woah! I wasn’t…I didn’t think it was a big deal.”
“Well, it is,” you say, a little sharper than you intended, already setting the box aside like putting distance between it and him will fix something.
Jake exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Okay…I’m sorry. I just…I saw it and I got curious.”
You don’t respond right away, turning back to your mirror. Jake watches you for a second then asks. “Who is he?”
Your grip tightens around your makeup brush. “No one,” you say coldly.
Jake lets out a quiet, disbelieving breath. “He doesn’t look like no one.”
You don’t answer. “Is he an ex?” he presses.
You cringe before you can stop yourself. “Can you just…drop it please? I said it’s nothing, Jake.”
He frowns, something frustrated flickering across his face now. “I’ve told you about all my exes. Why are you hiding this?” He says, a little more pointed.
You open your mouth and then close it because what are you supposed to say? Anton wasn’t an ex but he also wasn’t someone who meant nothing. Whatever it was that the two of you shared existed in the realm of what if’s and dreams.
“I’m not hiding anything,” you say finally but it comes out weaker than you intend.
Jake studies you, eyes narrowing just slightly. “Then explain it.”
You let out a quiet breath and set your makeup brush down. “There’s nothing to explain. He was just…someone from school.”
“Just someone?” Jake echoes, glancing toward the box you shoved aside. “You’re clearly wearing his hoodie and he’s got his arm around you like…like that’s normal!”
“It was normal. We were friends.” You snap, more defensive now.
The word hangs there, thin and unconvincing, even to your own ears. Jake doesn’t respond right away. He just watches you, his expression shifting from confusion to frustration like he’s trying to understand what you’re not saying just as much as what you are.
“Okay. I’m just gonna be blunt.” he says after a moment. Your stomach drops. “Do you have feelings for him?”
You freeze for half a second, your reflection staring back at you in the mirror, eyes just a little too wide, lips parted like you might actually answer him honestly and for the briefest moment, you consider it. You consider turning around, saying I don’t know or it’s complicated or something real but the truth is messy. The truth doesn’t make sense. The truth would ruin the life you’ve built these two years away from Anton so instead you laugh.
It comes out light and dismissive. “That’s…not even possible,” you say, shaking your head as you turn back to the mirror, picking up your makeup brush. “You can’t have feelings for someone you never even dated. That’s just…” you shrug slightly, meeting his eyes through the reflection, “...dumb.”
Even as it leaves your mouth, something inside you recoils. Still, you don’t take it back. You let the lie sit there between you. You add it to the long list of lies you’ve told. Jake watches you for a few seconds longer, trying to decide if he believes you or not. His gaze lingers, searching your face for any signs of hesitation. You don’t give him anything.
Eventually, he exhales. “…okay,” he says quietly.
He glances at his watch then back at you. “We should go. We’re gonna miss our reservation.”
You nod quickly, grateful for the out. “Yeah.”
You set your brush down and reach for your bag before following him out. You catch Manon’s eyes on your way out and there’s no doubt she heard your conversation. The frown she gives you on your exit speaks volumes.
NYU junior year
You don’t remember who pulled who into the room first. All you know is the music is louder out there but here it’s quieter. Anton’s mouth is already on yours, wasting no time the second the door shuts behind you.
The kiss is messy and rushed. You barely have time to catch your breath before he’s backing you up, hands firm at your waist as you stumble together, bumping into the edge of the bed. You laugh softly against his lips, breathless. “The door’s not even locked,” you murmur, glancing over his shoulder for half a second. “Someone could walk in.”
Anton doesn’t pull away, if anything he leans in closer, mouth dragging from your lips to your jaw then lower. “Let them,” he murmurs against your skin like the idea doesn’t bother him at all.
You huff out a quiet laugh, fingers sliding into his hair, tugging lightly just to hear the soft exhale it pulls from him. “You’re insane.”
“Insane about you.” He rebuttals.
His hands skim up your sides as your back hits the mattress as he follows you down and lays his body weight atop you. The room tilts slightly as you turn your head. The window is cracked open just enough to let the cool night air slip in, you can see the city lights flickering somewhere in the distance and all you can think about is how different this is. How far this feels from where you were just a few months ago.
Over the summer, you’d convinced yourself distance would fix it. Back home, surrounded by everything that came before NYU, it was easier to pretend. Easier to ignore the way your phone lit up with his name, easier to let texts sit unanswered a little longer than they should then a little longer after that. You told yourself it was space, that it was necessary. That whatever had started to grow between you at the end of sophomore year would fade if you just…stopped feeding it.
For a while, it almost worked. By the time you came back in the fall, you thought maybe the awkwardness would carry over, that things would feel different but Anton didn’t act like anything had changed. He showed up the same way he always did. Bright smiles, casual touches, sitting a little too close like he always had so you followed his lead.
You laughed like nothing had happened and slipped back into your routines. You ignored the way your chest tightened every time your hands brushed or when he said your name with reverence. You were able to keep it up until December.
The four of you had stumbled into a crowded frat house on a Thursday night. You’d gotten separated from Manon and Sohee somewhere between the kitchen and the stairs, weaving your way through strangers until you ended up by the makeshift bar.
You got to work on making yourself a drink when one of the football players approached you. It started the way those things always do: small talk, a drink pressed into your hand, someone leaning a little closer to hear you over the music.
There was no pressure behind it, no second layer to peel back and analyze. You took a sip of your drink and batted your lashes up at him. You opened your mouth to ask if he wanted to go somewhere more private only to be stopped by a hand wrapping around your waist.
Your entire body reacted before your mind had a chance to catch up, breath catching sharply. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was. You knew the weight of his hand, the way his thumb slips under your shirt and rubs slow circles along your v-line.
“Hey baby,” he said over your shoulder.
You malfunctioned at the pet name while the footballer glanced between the two of you, something in his expression shifting. “Oh…are you…?”
“Yes,” Anton said, cutting in before he could finish.
You turned then, finally looking at him, your brows pulled together in confusion. You opened your mouth to question it, to push back but he was already moving. His grip wasn’t tight but it was possessive enough that you followed without thinking, letting him guide you through the crowd towards an empty hallway.
“Anton what was that!?”
He shrugged before letting you go. “I didn’t like it.”
You stared at him, trying to understand what that meant. “Didn’t like what?”
He clenched his jaw before responding. “All of it. The way he was flirting with you, looking at you. I didn’t like it.”
Your breath caught yet again but you tried to compose yourself. “Okay…but that doesn’t mean you can just…what, pretend I’m your girlfriend?” You said slowly, trying to keep your voice steady.
He huffed a quiet laugh at that, shaking his head like you were missing the point. “Why are we still doing this?” he asked suddenly.
Your stomach dropped. “Doing what?”
“This,” he said gesturing vaguely between you, frustration bleeding through. “Pretending like nothing’s here.”
You blinked, your thoughts scrambling to catch up.
“I gave you space. All summer I let you pull away and I didn’t push, I didn’t ask questions and when we got back, I played along. I acted like it was fine.”
The words hit harder than they should. Maybe it was because he was right. You did feel it, you had always felt it. You had just been better at pretending you didn’t.
“Anton…” you started but it came out quieter than you intended.
He stepped closer closing the distance just enough to make your breath catch again but he didn't touch you. “When are we going to stop acting like this is nothing?” he had asked.
That night ended the way it probably shouldn’t have. With your back pressed against the cold tile of a frat house bathroom, your hands tangled in his hair as you kissed him like you were trying to make up for every moment you didn’t.
You’re pulled back to the present when Anton’s mouth dips lower and he leaves open mouthed kisses across your stomach. You sigh at the feeling of his tongue dragging across your skin before letting your right hand drop to his head to tug at his hair, relishing in the whimpers he releases.
You smirk at the hold you have on him, literally and metaphorically. You tug a bit harder when he leaves a kiss below your navel right above the button of your mini skirt. Before he can go any further, you tilt his head up to look you in your eyes.
You take delight in the way he obeys but your satisfaction is snubbed out by the reminder of what led the two of you to this room. “Who was that girl?”
Anton’s brows lift slightly like he genuinely has no idea what you’re talking about. “What girl?” he asks, voice calm.
You narrow your eyes at him, unimpressed. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” he presses, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s fighting a smile.
You let out a quiet scoff, your hand slipping from his hair as he shifts, sliding off you and settling beside you on the bed. The sudden space between you feels wrong immediately. You turn toward him without thinking and climb right back into his space, swinging a leg over his lap to straddle him. His hands automatically go to grip your waist and pull you in closer, bucking his hips a bit.
“I’m talking about the girl downstairs. The one who was following you like a lost puppy.” You say more direct now.
Anton exhales softly through his nose and grips your hips a bit tighter. “She wasn’t following me like a puppy,” he says, still playing it off.
You tilt your head, studying him. “Really?”
He shrugs but he doesn’t look away from you. “She’s no one.”
“That’s not what it looked like.” Your fingers press a little more firmly into his shoulder from frustration and jealousy.
“Why do you care?” he asks quietly, rolling his hips below you to create friction. You falter for half a second from the weight behind the question and your growing arousal.
“I don’t,” you say quickly, your gaze flicking away for just a moment before returning to him. “I’m just asking.”
He hums unconvinced, his right hand sliding a little higher on your hips, holding you there a bit more firmly now. “She’s just some girl Sohee was trying to set me up with,” he says, watching your face carefully.
Your expression tightens before you can stop it, something like a scowl flickering across your face as your fingers curl slightly against his shoulders. “Oh,” you say but there’s nothing neutral about it. You lean in before you can think too hard about it, kissing him again, harder this time. Anton moans against your mouth and kisses back with equal fervor, almost whining when you pull back.
“I don’t like that.” You murmur against his lips, shaking your head slightly.
Anton lets out a quiet breath, his grip on you tightening as he leans up to chase your lips. “She doesn’t matter. I promise.” He says, the words brushing against your mouth.
His forehead bumps yours for a second, his gaze lingering like he’s waiting to see if you’ll push again, if you’ll question it, if you’ll admit why you even asked in the first place.
Instead you push him back to tug his shirt off and set off on laying kisses along the column of his neck and chest. Making sure to leave behind angry red bruises that show he’s off limits.
That’s how it goes with the two of you. Tonight it’s a girl downstairs, someone neither of you care about until suddenly you do. Yesterday it was the way Anton’s jaw tightened when your hand lingered a second too long on your partner during workshop, his quiet mood lasting the rest of the night until you finally snapped and asked what his problem was. Next week, it’ll be something else entirely.
It always is. You push, he pulls. He pulls, you push harder. Neither of you willing to step back far enough to end it, neither of you brave enough to step forward and call it what it is.
With spring break coming up, you only pray a change of scenery is enough to give the two of you some reprieve.
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
Seven days later
The ocean stretches out in front of you, endless and blue. Manon is beside you, sunglasses pushed up into her hair, already halfway through her third drink like she’s trying to make the most of the “unlimited” part of the resort package. You’re stretched out on your stomach, book open in front of you while Sohee and Anton ride jetskis in the clear blue water.
Spring break had been Manon’s idea. It started over winter break with a facetime call. She had been pushing for a cabin trip at first but Sohee and Anton were doing a cruise and your parents had planned a last minute family trip and suddenly the whole thing unraveled before it ever really came together. Manon had sulked for all of ten minutes before pivoting completely.
She proposed spring break in Cancun. Next thing you knew, you were booking an all-inclusive resort in Cancun, splitting costs and promising it would be fun.
It’s day three of five now and so far it’s been exactly what you expected. You’ve drank more than your liver can probably handle, eaten so much food to the point of expanding your stomachs and backs and the four of you have spent hours in the water with salt drying into your skin.
Somewhere in between all of it, you and Anton had smoothed over whatever that moment at the party had been but things haven’t exactly gone back to normal either. You think it’s all the sexual tension floating around the two of you. All four of you share a room, Anton and Sohee on one bed, you and Manon on the other. It’s hard to sneak away and get alone time. You’ve resorted to living vicariously through the characters in your books you packed.
Manon lets out a satisfied sigh beside you, tipping the last of her piña colada back before setting the empty glass in the sand. “Okay…I’m gonna go get us more drinks before they try to cut me off.” She announces, pushing herself up with a little wobble.
You snort, lowering your book just enough to glance at her. “You’re already pushing it.”
She waves you off like it’s nothing, already brushing sand from her legs and adjusting her bikini straps. “They love me,” she insists, flashing you a grin before turning toward the bar.
You watch her go, eyes narrowing slightly as she weaves her way across the sand, pausing once to steady herself before continuing on like nothing happened. Shaking your head, you let out a quiet sigh and settle back down, turning your attention to your book again. The pages of The Nightingale blur slightly in the bright sun but you try to focus anyway, letting the words pull you somewhere else.
You only make it a few lines in before something bumps lightly against your foot. You blink, glancing down to find a volleyball resting against your ankle, grains of sand clinging to its surface. “Sorry!” a voice calls from a few feet away.
You look up to see a guy jogging toward you, slowing as he gets closer. He lifts a hand in a small, almost shy wave, offering you an apologetic smile as he comes to a stop. “Didn’t mean to interrupt…uh that kind of rolled away from us.” He gestures back toward the makeshift volleyball court set up a little further down the beach, a few people still standing there watching.
You push yourself up onto your elbows, brushing sand from your forearm before reaching down to pick up the ball. “You’re good,” you say, offering it back to him.
He steps closer to take it, fingers brushing yours for a brief second. “Thanks…what’re you reading?” He asks, lingering just a moment longer than necessary.
You glance down at the cover, holding it up slightly. “The Nightingale.”
He nods like he recognizes it, you’re not entirely convinced he does. “Is it good?”
You shrug lightly. “So far.”
He smiles at that. “I was gonna say, you look pretty into it.”
You huff a quiet laugh, closing it partway. “I was, until your game attacked me.”
He laughs, scratching the back of his neck. “Can…can I buy you a drink? As an apology.”
You hesitate for half a second, your instinct to say no rising automatically but it stalls before it reaches your mouth because what would you even say? “No, I can't, because there’s a boy on a jetski somewhere who gets jealous even though we’re not together?”
Before you can figure out how to turn him down politely, movement catches in your peripheral. Manon is making her way back across the sand, two drinks balanced in her hands, her sunglasses now crooked on her face. In front of you, Sohee and Anton are just stepping off their jetskis, laughing about something as they walk toward you.
Your stomach tightens. The timing is almost cruel. “Actually, I—” you start, already half-turning toward Manon, ready to use her as an out.
“Oh perfect,” Manon cuts in easily as she reaches you, not missing a beat as her eyes flick between you and the guy in front of you. “This one’s for Sohee,” she says, pressing one of the drinks into his hands the second he gets close. Sohee takes it without question, too busy thanking her to notice anything else.
You fight the urge to jump her. You have to remind yourself she has good intentions. You turn back to the stranger, forcing your expression into something kinder. “Yeah…um one drink is fine.”
Your eyes flick over to Anton but he lets nothing slip. He pushes his hair away from his forehead and laughs at a joke Sohee makes before settling down in the sand next to Manon.
“Cool, c’mon.” The stranger says, smiling a little wider now that you’ve agreed. He offers you his hand and you take it, dusting off sand from your stomach and thighs. You adjust your bikini straps before following after him.
Anton doesn’t look your way again.
The walk to the bar is short but it feels longer. The music gets louder the closer you get, you spot people crowded around the counter sipping on colorful drinks. The stranger introduces himself somewhere along the way, says his name is James. You tell him your name before settling against a free spot at the bar.
He leans forward slightly, catching the bartender’s attention. “Two tequila shots please.”
The glasses slide across the counter a second later, salt clinging to the rims. He picks one up and hands it to you, fingers brushing yours again. “To spring break,” he says with a grin.
You force a small smile, lifting your glass to meet his. “To spring break.”
He starts talking again, something about where he’s from, how long he’s been here but your attention drifts before you can stop it. Back toward the beach where Anton is perched in the sand soaking up the sun.
It makes your skin itch how unaffected he seems. Makes you feel dramatic for the reaction you had at the party. You wonder if he even cares, if whatever this is only feels like something more when you’re alone with him.
You swallow, the taste of tequila still lingering, suddenly too aware of everything. “I’m sorry. I think I’m actually gonna go lie down. I’m not feeling great.”
James pauses, clearly thrown off but he recovers quickly. “Oh…yeah, of course. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Just tired.” You nod, already stepping back.
He hesitates for a second like he wants to say more but then smiles. “Okay. Maybe I’ll see you around?”
You nod once. “Yeah…maybe.”
You don’t wait for anything else. You don’t grab your things or call out to Manon or wait for anyone to notice you’re gone. You just turn and walk, the sound of the ocean fading behind you with every step, replaced by the quiet of the hotel lobby as you push through the glass doors. The air conditioning hits your skin but it does nothing to cool the burning embarrassment building under it.
You make your way to the elevators without thinking, pressing the button and crossing your arms over yourself as you wait, your reflection staring back at you in the mirrored walls. The doors slide open and you step inside, pressing your floor and exhaling slowly. Just as the doors begin to shut, a hand catches them. They part again with a soft chime and Anton steps in.
The space shrinks immediately. You don’t say anything at first and neither does he. The doors close behind him and the elevator starts to move, the elevator music filling the silence between you.
For a second, you think about staying quiet and letting it pass. Letting this be just another thing that goes unspoken but the question comes out anyway. “Do you even care about me?”
Anton turns his head slightly, brows pulling together. “What?”
You shake your head immediately, already regretting it. “Never mind.”
The elevator climbs another floor. He waits a beat before speaking again, his voice deeper this time. “You looked pretty cozy at the bar.”
You turn to face him fully but he’s not looking at you. His gaze is fixed straight ahead, jaw set. You let out a small, disbelieving scoff. “So you can flirt with whoever Sohee throws at you but God forbid I let a guy buy me a drink?”
Anton exhales sharply, rolling his eyes. “Why are you bringing her up again? I told you she means nothing!”
“It’s the principle! You don’t get to act like that when you do the same thing. That's called hypocrisy Anton.” You shoot back, frustration rising now, pushing past whatever hesitation you had before.
“It’s not the same thing!” he snaps, finally turning toward you. “You’re the one who said we can’t tell anyone. What am I supposed to say to Sohee when he tries to set me up with someone? Huh? What was I supposed to say after the party about the hickies you left on my neck? You can’t get pissed at me for a boundary you insist on keeping!”
You falter at him throwing your rules back at you. You hate how he’s right, how you can’t come up with a logical and fair defense in response to instead you reach for the one thing that always gives you distance. “This is dumb. We’re not even together.”
The elevator dings softly as it reaches your floor. The doors slide open and you step out automatically, expecting him to follow, already bracing for the argument to continue the way it always does, looping back in on itself until one of you gives in.
However, when you turn around he hasn’t moved. He’s still standing inside, one hand braced against the railing, looking at you like he’s seeing you clearly for the first time. There’s something in his expression that makes your chest tighten.
He looks hurt. Genuinely hurt. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet.
“Then let’s end whatever this is.”
Present Day
As the waves of pleasure finally begin to subside, you find yourself tangled between Jake’s arms and your sheets. Both your breaths mingle in the warm air and Jake wraps his arms securely around you, holding you close as his heartbeat gradually slows. You can feel the aftershocks of your climax coursing through you as your eyes slowly shut.
One of his hands is lazily tracing over yours, turning your palm up and brushing along your fingers. “I’m never gonna get tired of this,” he murmurs, more to himself than anything.
You huff out a quiet laugh, the corner of your mouth lifting into a smirk. “Mhmm, good I’ve got some more tricks up my sleeve.”
Jake lets out a groan, “Such a fucking tease.”
You laugh and open your mouth to retort but get cut off by the door swinging open. “Hey, do you have a—oh.”
Manon freezes mid-step, one hand still on the door, her eyes flicking from Jake to you tangled together in your bed. “Shit! Sorry! My fault!”
The door shuts just as quickly as it opened. You groan instantly, dragging your blanket up over your head like it might erase the last ten seconds. “Oh my gosh.”
Jake lets out a quiet laugh above you, chest rumbling against your cheek. “She definitely saw everything.”
“Stop. I can never leave this room again.” You mumble from under the covers, mortified, pulling them tighter around yourself.
He hums in agreement but his fingers hook into the edge of the blanket, tugging it down slowly until your face reappears. “Yeahhhh,” he says, amused, brushing your cheek. “That was…a little embarrassing.”
You narrow your eyes at him but there’s no real bite behind it. “How reassuring.”
He smirks in response before shrugging a shoulder. You try to hold onto the annoyance but it dissolves into a laugh as you let the blanket fall back to your chest. For a moment, neither of you say anything. His thumb finds your hand again, tracing the same absent pattern across your fingers. After a beat he speaks up again.
“You know…this could be avoided.”
You peek up at him, brows pulling together. “How?” you ask, still half-curled into him. “Our lease isn't ending anytime soon and Manon’s had a lifelong aversion to knocking.”
He smiles faintly at that but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes this time. His thumb pauses against your hand for a second before continuing. “Well…what if you moved?”
You blink, your mind struggling to catch his drift “Moved where?”
He shifts a little beneath you, propping himself up just enough to look at you properly. “To my place.”
You stare at him for a second longer than you mean to, your mind catching up in pieces. “Your…place?” you repeat, slower this time.
“Yeah. I mean…it just makes sense, right? We’re already spending most nights together anyway.” He gestures vaguely around your room, a small smile tugging at his lips. “And no surprise interruptions.”
You let out a soft breath that almost sounds like a laugh but it doesn’t quite land. Your mind starts racing as you struggle to piece together where this is coming from. Realistically, this isn’t a crazy thing to bring up, this is the kind of thing people do. The kind of next step that fits neatly into the version of a relationship the two of you have.
You just hadn’t…thought about it…with him.
“Jake…” you start but your words die on the tip of your tongue. You push yourself up slightly so you’re not completely folded into him anymore and try again. “I feel like that’s…kind of a big step.”
He nods, like he expected that. “It is but we’ve been together for a year. It’s not like this is coming out of nowhere.”
Your gaze drifts for a second. His penthouse flashes through your mind; clean, quiet, perfectly put together. You’ve been there enough to know it’s nice…really nice. It doesn’t feel like a place you belong or could call home. “I just think…maybe we don’t have to rush it?” You say slowly, choosing your words carefully.
The second the words leave your mouth, you feel the shift. Jake’s hand stills against yours for half a beat before he lets it relax again. “Rush it?” he repeats.
You shake your head quickly, pushing yourself up a little more, tucking your blanket around you some more. “Okay maybe not rush, I just…” you exhale softly, searching for something that sounds right. “I like where we are right now. I don’t think we have to…change it yet.”
He watches you for a second, weighing what you’re saying. His thumb brushes over your knuckles again but the movement feels more less sure now. “I’m not trying to rush you. Just thought…we were on the same page.”
You nod, trying to offer him a reassuring smile. “We are,” you say, even though something in your chest tightens as you do.
He nods back, like he’s choosing to believe you. “Okay,” he murmurs.
NYU senior year
The summer after junior year, Anton Lee disappeared from your life.
Not all at once but rather slowly, as if he intended to hurt you the way you had hurt him. His texts came later and later until they eventually stopped altogether, conversations never got picked back up and there was a loud silence that filled in the blanks for you. This wasn’t temporary.
You tried to hide behind your ego, told yourself that it made sense. Said that after everything that had happened between the two of you, maybe this is how it was always meant to end.
When the line had been drawn as clear as could be, you filled your time with other things. You still talked to Sohee and Manon, spent hours writing in your room about a perfect world where things worked out for your main characters.
You convinced yourself you were fine. Better off even without Anton. It was easy to think that way when he wasn’t standing right in front of you. Then September came and with it, the last semester the two of you would ever share again.
Just like that, he was back. It dawned on you that it was just as easy for Anton to delude himself when you weren’t standing directly in front of him, when the two of you weren’t sitting side by side pretending nothing ever happened between the two of you in front of your friends.
Like clockwork, you fell back into your familiar pattern. Only this time, the Anton you had grown to love wasn’t the one who came back to you. You think you lost that version somewhere in Cancun.
This time around, you thought it couldn’t be as bad as junior year…how wrong you were.
This time, neither of you cared to pretend. Gone was the sneaking around, no more stolen moments hidden behind closed doors. Whatever this was between you existed out in the open now. Unlabeled and undefined but impossible to miss.
Parties turned into something else entirely. What used to be fun, loud nights with your friends became a game the two of you never agreed to but always ended up playing anyway. How far can you push before the other snaps? How much can you get away with before it finally crosses a line?
Anton started it more often than not. He’d lean a little too close to someone else, let his hand linger just long enough for you to notice, sometimes even going as far as taking them upstairs. They’d disappear for a few minutes, never long enough to confirm anything but never short enough to ignore. It was never enough to call him out without sounding crazy but it was always enough to make burning hot jealousy rip through your chest.
When you would finally corner him and ask him what the hell he was doing, he’d only smirk before asking. “Why do you care?” It would be followed by a condescending hum and, “We’re not even together.”
He would throw it right back at you. The same words you used first, the same ones you threw at him in Cancun. You would sneer at him before stomping off, your pride fully kicked in. You would find someone of your own, someone easy. You would let him talk to you, let him get you drinks, let yourself be seen with him just long enough to prove a point you didn’t even fully believe in.
It would work for all of an hour before your attention would start to drift back to Anton. All he would ever do is give you one look and suddenly nothing else mattered. You’d make some excuse, slip away and leave whoever you were with standing there confused while you found your way back to him like you always did.
Manon tried, truly, to get you to have some self-respect. She would set you up with people she thought were easier and healthier. You’d go along with it at first to humor her. You’d exchange numbers, let conversations start only to lose interest almost immediately. Your replies got shorter then slower, until eventually they stopped altogether. It never made it past that.
From what you heard from Manon, Sohee tried too. He pulled Anton aside more than once, told him he wasn’t being fair, that maybe he should date outside of the friend group, give someone else a real chance only to be told, “We both know what we’re doing.”
Eventually, they both stopped pushing. Not because they approved but because they realized nothing they said was going to change it because as much as the two of you didn’t work like this, you still worked everywhere else.
Anton still walked you back to your dorm after late lectures, hands tucked into his pockets while the two of you talked about nothing and everything all at once. He still bought you lunch when you forgot your student ID, didn’t even let you argue about it. You still showed up to his swim meets with posters you’d spent too long making, shouting his name like you were born to cheer him on.
You still sat together at family dinner with Manon and Sohee, still laughed at the same jokes, still fell into each other on the couch during movie nights like it was muscle memory.
You’re good at that part…too good and that’s what made it worse.
Manon and Sohee didn’t understand it. They couldn’t figure out how the two of you fit so easily everywhere else, how you could be this…effortless together, only for everything to fall apart the second it turned into something more.
But you know why and so does Anton.
Neither of you said it out loud but it lingered in every argument, every glance and every moment where one of you almost gave in and the other refused to meet you there.
He hasn’t forgiven you for Cancun. Maybe even how you treated him leading up to your fight. He’s still holding on to how easily you turned off your emotions when others were around, how quick you were to deny him the chance of ever being more than a dirty little secret.
As for you, you’re too proud to fix it first. It’s humiliating enough knowing how thoroughly he’s ruined everyone else for you.
So you don’t cave, even when it’s the only thing you want to.
To your relief, somewhere along the way the two of you stop fighting as much. Not because anything gets resolved or because either of you finally says the thing you’ve been circling for two years now but because there’s nothing left to argue about that hasn’t already been said in a hundred and one different ways. You think it’s because he didn’t want to be on bad terms during graduation.
The last few weeks fly by, it’s easy to not notice time slipping away from you when things are as easy as they once were freshman year.
Today is commencement.
Just like that, the last four years of your life collapse into a single moment. You’ve imagined this day a hundred different ways but none of them feel quite like this. None of them capture how quickly it slips through your fingers.
One minute you’re walking across the stage, heart pounding, the announcer calling your name, next it’s over. Your tassel is turned, people are clapping, caps are already being tossed into the air before you’ve even had the chance to process it.
It all blurs together.
The months of deadlines, the nights spent hunched over your laptop swearing you’d start earlier next time, the early mornings you dragged yourself out of bed for classes you almost skipped, the crowded study rooms, the shared meals, the laughter—it all collapses into this one fleeting stretch of time that feels both too fast and impossibly long.
No more classes to rush to. No more last-minute submissions or group chats blowing up at two in the morning. No more of this.
You barely have time to sit with that realization before you’re being pulled in every direction. Pictures with your friends, your family, your professors. Someone is fixing your cap, someone else is calling your name, your phone is buzzing endlessly in your hand. It’s overwhelming in the best way.
By the time your parents decide you’ve taken enough pictures and accepted more gifts than your arms are capable of holding, you find yourself sitting at a long table surrounded by the people who made these last four years what they were.
Come six o’clock, you’re tucked into your seat beside Manon and her sister, your cap and gown long forgotten in your dads car. Across from you, Sohee is mid story with your dad, hands moving animatedly as he recounts something from freshman year.
Beside him sits Anton. He sits a little more relaxed than usual, one arm draped over the back of Sohee’s chair, a small smile tugging at his lips as he listens. Every now and then he chimes in, correcting Sohee or adding details that make the story even funnier and it’s so normal.
Eventually, plates empty and conversations start to taper off. You push your chair back softly, leaning toward Manon. “I’m gonna step outside for a second,” you murmur.
She nods without question, too caught up in whatever story Sohee’s telling now to look too closely. You slip out quietly, the noise of the restaurant fading behind you as the evening air hits your skin, cooler now.
You exhale slowly, stepping just far enough from the entrance to give yourself space, the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses muffled behind you. For a moment, it’s just you and the quiet hum of the city.
The door opens again and you don’t have to turn around to know it’s him.
Anton steps out beside you, he doesn’t say anything right away, just shrugs his suit jacket off his shoulders and holds it out toward you. “Here,” he says softly.
You hesitate for half a second before taking it, the fabric still warm from him as you slide your arms through the sleeves. It’s too big, swallowing you just slightly, the faint scent of his cologne settling around you.
“Thanks,” you murmur, pulling it closer around yourself.
He nods once, hands slipping into his pockets as he leans back against the wall beside you.
For a moment, neither of you says anything. Anton shifts slightly beside you before breaking it. “You wanna go for a walk?” he asks.
You glance over at him, really looking at him for the first time since you stepped outside. His hair is slightly out of place from the day, his tie loosened just enough to make him look less put together.
“Yeah,” you say, softer than you mean to.
He pushes off the wall and falls into step beside you, his arm brushes up against you but neither of you say anything or move away. You walk without a destination at first, letting your feet carry you down familiar streets, past places that have become second nature over the last four years. Neither of you rushes to fill the silence and for once, it doesn’t feel like something that needs fixing.
Eventually, without either of you meaning to, you find yourselves standing before your dorm. The place where everything started. You let out a small breath, something soft and almost disbelieving as you take it in. The windows are dark now, the halls inside probably already half empty with everyone moving out.
“Wow,” you murmur, more to yourself than anything.
Anton huffs a quiet laugh beside you. “How fitting.”
There’s another pause. You glance at the entrance, then back at him. “Do you wanna go in?” you ask.
The words hang between you. Anton’s gaze flicks from you to the building and back again. For a second, you think he might say no. Instead, he surprises you and nods. “Yeah,” he says quietly.
You barely have time to register his words before he’s putting in the building code and pulling the door open for you.
Inside, everything feels different. The lobby that once buzzed with voices and movement now sits in a strange, hollow quiet. A few stray boxes are stacked near the walls, abandoned or waiting to be taken, and the fluorescent lights hum faintly overhead.
It’s like stepping into a memory that’s already started to fade. You walk further in first, your eyes drifting over everything like you’re trying to hold onto it. The couches where you and Manon used to sit for hours, the corner where Sohee would pace while practicing, the hallway that always smelled faintly like burnt popcorn no matter the time of day.
“Feels weird,” you murmur.
“Yeah,” Anton agrees quietly, falling into step beside you.
Your feet carry you on their own. Down the hall. Past doors left ajar, rooms half-empty, beds stripped down to their frames. The place that once felt too small for all the life inside it now feels too big without it.
By the time you stop, you’re standing in front of a door you’ve walked through more times than you can count. Anton’s old domr. He hesitates for just a second before pushing it open.
The room is almost empty. His side of the room is stripped down completely, mattress bare, desk cleared, shelves wiped clean like he was never there at all. Sohee’s side looks the same. The only thing left is what couldn’t be taken yet, suitcases by the wall, a few stray items waiting to be packed last.
It shouldn’t feel like a punch to the chest but it does. You step inside slowly, your gaze dragging over the space where you’ve spent so many nights cuddled in Anton’s arms.
“Damn,” you breathe, arms crossing loosely over yourself, still wrapped in his jacket.
Anton shuts the door behind you, quieter this time. “Yeah.”
The silence stretches again, heavier now. There’s nowhere to sit except the bed so that’s where you perch yourselves. You lower yourself onto the bare mattress, the springs creaking softly under your weight. He follows a second later, sitting beside you but not too close.
You take in the room again, noting the way things have changed over four years.
“I hated this year,” you admit after a beat.
Anton stills beside you but you continue. You swallow, fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his jacket. “Not…the school year itself…just—” you shake your head faintly, searching for the right words. “Us.”
You let out a small, humorless breath. “I hated knowing I lost you before we even got back in the fall. The silence over the summer, the way everything after that just felt like we were…punishing each other.”
Anton exhales slowly, his gaze dropping to his hands. “You think I didn’t hate it too?”
You glance at him. “I hated all of it. You think I wanted that? I wanted to be with you.” He shakes his head slightly. “Every time I got close, every time I chose you…you pulled away.”
Your chest tightens. “I didn’t—” you start but the words fall apart before you finish your sentence. He’s right, you always chose to avoid him, from sophomore year when you realized you were falling all the way up to junior year after he confessed. He picked you yet you made it nearly impossible for him to stay with all the rules you set, the way you kept him hidden but would burn with fury when anyone else tried to fill your place beside him.
The truth sits there between you, ugly and unavoidable.
“It’s not too late,” Anton says quietly as you sit in your discomfort.
There’s no teasing in his expression now, no deflection, no pride. “We don’t have to keep doing it like that. We could…actually try.” He adds, softer now.
For a second, you let yourself imagine it. What that would look like. What it would feel like to finally stop fighting it, to call it what it is, to choose each other without all the conditions and rules and distance you’ve spent the last two years hiding behind.
Just as quickly though, reality comes crashing down. Every fight, every misstep, every moment where one of you reached and the other pulled away. Two years worth of proof, the two of you star crossed lovers destined to fail from the moment he showed up in front of your dorm and offered to help you build your bookshelf. You know how this ends.
Your gaze drops, your fingers smoothing over the edge of the mattress like it might ground you. “Sohee told me you’re leaving,” you say instead.
It’s a clear deflection and Anton picks up on it the second the words leave your mouth. He exhales, leaning back slightly on his hands. “Yeah. We’re going back to Korea for a bit. See where things go from there. Maybe LA after.” He admits.
You nod slowly, like you’re processing it, even though you already have.
“But that doesn’t mean—” he starts.
You don’t let him finish. “Long distance?” you ask, glancing at him.
He hesitates for a fraction of a second before nodding. “We could try. I mean it. Something real this time.”
Something real. The words settle in your chest, heavy. You want to believe him…you almost do but wanting something has never been enough for the two of you.
You nod like you agree, like you believe him, even though you don’t and before he can read too much into it, you lean forward, closing the space between you, pressing your lips to his. The kiss is softer than anything you’ve shared before.
It doesn’t feel like a fight or a distraction or something meant to prove a point. Anton stills for half a second surprised before his hand comes up to cup the side of your face, pulling you closer as he kisses you back.
His movements are slow and deliberate, almost like he’s trying to memorize you rather than consume you. His thumb brushes along your jaw, your cheek, as his lips move against yours with a kind of care you haven’t felt from him before.
His hands slide down from your face, pausing briefly at your shoulders before drifting lower, fingertips grazing along the edges of his jacket still wrapped around you. He tugs it gently from your arms, letting it fall somewhere beside the bed before his attention returns to you, eyes flickering over your face like he’s seeing you clearly for the first time in a long while.
You don’t look away.
Your breath catches softly as his hands find the zipper of your dress, hesitating for just a moment, giving you time to stop him, to say something, to pull away. You don’t.
He takes the hint and slowly unzips your dress. His gaze never leaving yours until the fabric is gone and discarded somewhere behind him.
He leans in again, pressing another kiss to your lips before letting it drift to your cheek, your jaw, the curve of your neck. Each touch softer than the last, like he’s making up for every moment he wasn’t like this before.
You let your hands move too, undoing his tie, then his dress shirt, guiding him just enough until he pulls back to shed the layers himself. The fabric drops to the floor without care, forgotten the second it leaves his hands.
When he comes back to you, it’s closer. His forehead rests briefly against yours, both of you breathing the same air, your breaths mingling together and become one. You take your time to remember his face, all the beauty marks and smile lines then his lips find yours once more.
There’s no urgency in the way he touches you, no rush to get anywhere else. His hands move as if he’s learning you all over again, like this version of you is something fragile. Something he doesn’t want to break.
You fall back onto the bare mattress together, the springs creaking faintly beneath you, the room around you stripped of everything except this.
Your orgasm crashes into you, shattering you completely. You barely register the sounds you’re making, Anton swallowing them with a desperate kiss. Your breaths tangle, uneven and shaky, his hands still holding you like he doesn’t quite know how to let go. “I love you.” He chokes out as he spills in you.
It feels like a freight train has hit you. Your chest tightens so suddenly it almost hurts, your breath catching as everything inside you stumbles over itself. Your hand lifts on instinct, brushing his hair back from his face so you can see him clearly, really see him.
“I love you too,” you breathe. You finally allow yourself to say the words you’ve been aching to say for the past four years.
Anton exhales against your lips, something in his expression breaking open just slightly before he leans down again, kissing you reverently. You kiss him back just as gently, your fingers still tangled in his hair, holding him there for a second longer before pulling back just enough to look at him again.
“I love you,” you say once more. Making sure he knows, he understands you have and will always love him.
Anton gently pulls out and a soft whimper escapes your lips at the loss but he’s quick to drop down beside you, pulling you into his embrace, cradling you against his chest like it’s second nature. His arms wrap around you securely, one hand splayed across your back while the other traces slow, absentminded circles into your skin. It feels like everything you’ve ever wanted.
You tilt your head slightly, looking up at him. His eyes are already on you. “Did you mean it?” he murmurs.
You nod against him, your fingers coming up to rest lightly against his chest. “I always did.”
Anton exhales softly, his hand sliding up your back to rest at the base of your neck. “Then we can make it work. It doesn’t have to end like this.”
You don’t humor him with a response. Instead, you trace slow patterns into his skin, listening as he continues. “I’m being serious, ____. We could try. Long distance for a bit…until things settle.” His thumb brushes lightly along your shoulder. “And then I’ll come back to New York.”
Your heart stutters at that.
“I don’t wanna be anywhere else long term. We could…get a place. A brownstone, maybe. Fix it up how we want.” He says with a small laugh.
You smile faintly despite yourself, picturing it without meaning to. You had mentioned freshman year wanting to be a NewYork Times best selling author living in your very own brownstone, that’s how you would know you made it.
“You’d have your own space to write,” he continues, glancing down at you. “I could finally hear all those stories you never let anyone read. Help if you want or just…be there.”
Tears slowly start to fill your eyes. “And you could tell me when my lyrics suck.” He adds teasingly.
You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “They don’t suck.”
“Some of them do,” he insists, nudging you slightly.
You hum, pretending to consider it. “Maybe.”
He smiles at that, something soft and boyish slipping through as he turns his head to look up at the ceiling. For a moment, you let yourself stay there. In the version of your life he’s painting so easily, as if it’s something already within reach. You nod along when you’re supposed to. Add small comments, let him talk, let him believe you’re right there with him.
His voice eventually slows, his words tapering off as the exhaustion of the day finally catches up to him. His grip on you loosens just slightly, his breathing evening out as sleep begins to pull him under.
You stay still beneath him, listening as his breaths deepen, as the tension finally leaves his body completely. When you’re sure he’s asleep, you tilt your head just enough to look at him again.
You take in the way his lashes rest against his cheeks, the faint crease between his brows that’s finally smoothed out, the pink of his lips. Your fingers lift slowly, brushing his hair back from his forehead one last time, lingering there for just a second longer than necessary.
“I love you,” you whisper, so quietly it drifts into the night.
You fight the tears as you pull away. Slowly untangling yourself from his arms like you’re afraid even the smallest movement might wake him, might stop you from doing what you already know you’re going to do. You gather your clothes from the floor, dressing in silence, your hands moving on autopilot.
When you make it to the door, you pause. You sniff once before looking over your shoulder. He’s still there, still unmoving. Still looking like something you could’ve kept if things had been different.
Your throat tightens but you don’t let it stop you. You open the door and slip out into the quiet hallway, letting the door close softly behind you. Only then do you allow yourself to cry, to mourn what you never let yourself have.
Present Day
By the time you step off the train, your head is still buzzing with red ink and rejected edits.
The day had dragged at the publishing house, hours blurring into each other under fluorescent lights while you sat hunched over your laptop, eyes burning, flipping between manuscripts and stories that weren’t yours. Words you were supposed to fix, shape and make better even as your own sat untouched in the notes app on your phone.
Your boss hadn’t made it any easier. Hurling insults from her glass office at the all editors as she sat with her legs up on her desk eating a deli sub.
All you want is your bed.
You dig through your bag as you walk, fingers brushing past your notebook, your wallet and the lip gloss you swore you lost two days ago. Your keys are always at the bottom no matter how many times you tell yourself to keep them somewhere easier to reach. You let out a quiet sigh, already half-annoyed at the effort it’s going to take to find them.
The sound of someone calling your name cuts through your annoyance. You look up and blink in confusion. Jake stands a few feet away leaning casually against his car, one hand resting on the hood of his stupidly nice sports car, the other tucked into the pocket of his slacks.
He smiles when your eyes meet his. “Hey baby.”
For a second, you just stare at him. You hadn’t been expecting him. Your fingers that are still in your bag tighten slightly around nothing, your thoughts lagging a step behind as you try to catch up. “Jake? What are you doing here?” You ask as you finally pull your hand free, letting your bag fall back against your hip.
He pushes himself off the car, stepping a little closer as if he doesn’t see anything wrong with showing up unannounced. “I texted you. Figured I’d come pick you up.”
You blink, pulling your phone from your pocket. The screen lights up immediately, a string of notifications you hadn’t bothered checking once you left the office. His name sits there near the top.
“Sorry. I must’ve missed it.” You murmur, locking your phone again without really reading anything.
“It’s okay. I thought we could grab dinner or something. You look like you had a long day.” He says quickly.
You let out a small breath, something between a laugh and a sigh. “That obvious?”
“A little,” he admits, reaching out to brush his thumb lightly under your eye like he’s checking for something.
The touch is gentle and familiar. You should lean into it but instead you step back just slightly. “Yeah. It was…a lot.” You say, adjusting the strap of your bag over your shoulder.
Jake watches you for a moment, something flickering across his face too quick to fully catch. “Well,” he says, straightening a bit, deciding not to push it. “Come on. I’ll drive.”
He gestures toward the passenger side, already moving to open the door for you. “Um…actually,” you start, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Raincheck? I kinda just feel like staying in tonight.”
Jake’s hand stills on the car door for half a second before he nods. “Cool, then I’ll take you to my place.”
You bite the inside of your cheek. “No. I think I’d rather just stay home.” You say softer now, shaking your head slightly.
His brows pull together just a fraction. “Home?”
“Yeah,” you say quickly, filling the space before he can. “Manon’s leaving soon, remember? That F1 thing in Miami? I haven’t really gotten to hang out with her before she goes so I just…I wanna spend some time with her.”
The lie comes out smoother than it should. You don’t mention that she’s probably already half-packed, that she’ll be out the door early tomorrow, that “spending time” really just means existing in the living room watching The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives together before retreating into your room to shower. Maybe use TikTok for a bit before crawling to your laptop to open the same document of your novel that hasn’t seen real progress in weeks.
Jake doesn’t need to know any of that though.
You watch as his tongue presses into the inside of his cheek, something tightening in his jaw as he exhales quietly through his nose. “____,” he says, and there’s a shift in it now. “Seriosuly?”
You blink at him, feigning confusion. “What?”
He lets out a short breath, pushing the car door closed. The soft thud echoes a little louder than it should between you. “Why don’t you like coming to my place?”
You straighten slightly, defensive before you can stop yourself. “I do like your place.”
“Okay, then why does it feel like you avoid it?”
“I don’t avoid it,” you shoot back, adjusting your bag again just to have something to do with your hands. “Jake, I just said I’m tired. I wanna go home.”
His gaze doesn’t waver. “So come home with me.”
You exhale, slower this time, trying to keep the moment from tipping over into something else. “Jake…”
“Why won’t you move in?” he asks, more direct now, finally naming what this is realy about.
“Can we not do this today? I just got off work, Jake. I’m tired.” You sigh.
He shakes his head immediately. “No ____, because every time I try, you shut me down.”
“I don’t shut you down,” you say quickly.
His eyes widen just slightly, like he can’t believe you’re actually going to pretend that. “You don’t?” he repeats, incredulous now. “You brushed it off last week. You brushed it off the week before that. Every time I bring up anything about us moving forward, you throw up these impenetrable walls!” he gestures vaguely toward you, frustration bleeding through.
You roll your eyes. “That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Then what is it? Because I don’t understand what this is supposed to be anymore.” He presses.
You cross your arms over yourself, more to shield than anything else. “You’re making it into something it’s not.”
His jaw tightens. “Am I?”
You shrug, ready to dismiss him and this conversation but he speaks up again. “Is this about that guy in your memory box? In the polaroid?”
Your head snaps up, irritation flaring instantly. “Why are you bringing him up again? I told you he’s nothing!” The irony of your words are not lost on you.
“Because you clearly still feel something for him!” he fires back, matching your energy now, all the patience he’s been holding onto slipping. “You don’t react like that over someone who’s ‘nothing,’ ____!”
You let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking your head like he’s the one being unreasonable. “You’re reaching.”
“Am I?” he pushes, voice rising just slightly. “Because from where I’m standing you’re looking really fucking guilty!”
You roll your eyes, already turning away from him like that’s the end of it. “This conversation is over,” you mutter over your shoulder, digging back into your bag as you head for your building.
“____.” He calls. You ignore it.
Your fingers close around your keys, finally finding them at the bottom and you pull them free. “Don’t walk away from me!” Jake booms from behind you.
You continue up the steps, not giving into the way he baits you. You clench your jaw as you reach for the lock on your door when he yells out again. “Why won’t you just choose me!?”
Unable to keep a hold on your cool, you whirl around, anger rising faster than you can contain it, words already spilling before you can catch them. “Because you’re not him!”
You gasp the second you finish your sentence. There’s no way you just said that. “Fuck—” you breathe, your voice breaking as your eyes widen. “Jake, wait—I didn’t mean that, I didn’t—”
Only problem with that is that you did mean it and Jake knows. “Yeah. You did.”
The calmness of his response is worse than anything else he could’ve done or said. You take a step toward him, panic rising now, hands half-lifted like you can fix it if you just say the right thing. “No, Jake, listen to me—”
He wastes no time in turning away from you and heading to his car without another word. You hurry after him, heart racing reaching for the passenger side. “Jake! Please! just let me explain—”
You try tugging the door open but the handle doesn’t budge, he’s locked the car. You look up just in time to see him start the engine, his gaze fixed straight ahead, not even sparing you a glance. “Jake!”
He doesn’t stop. The car pulls away from the curb in one smooth motion, tires scraping slightly against the pavement as he accelerates, merging into traffic and away from you. You swallow hard, your vision blurring just slightly as everything starts to catch up all at once.
For a second, you’re still facing the street like he might come back if you just stand there long enough but the space he left behind stays empty, cars passing through like nothing happened. You step back from the curb slowly, your footing uneven as you make your way toward your building.
The world around you keeps moving, people pass, a couple across the street glances over before quickly looking away, your neighbor lingers by the front steps a little too long before pretending to check her phone.
Heat creeps up your neck at the fact that she definitely heard but you don’t have it in you to care. Not really. You adjust the strap of your bag on your shoulder and try to feign normalcy. Your phone buzzes in your hand, dragging your attention down to the screen.
It’s an email. The subject line almost knocks the remaining air from your lungs.
Subject line: English 102 – Letter to the Future, ____.
For a second, you just stare at it. You almost ignore it. You almost shove your phone back into your bag and deal with…everything else first but your curiosity wins out and your thumb moves before you can think too hard about it.
There’s a short message from your old professor explaining that the letters were scanned and sent out now that everyone has graduated, a small note about reflection and growth and how she hopes you’ve become everything you once wrote about.
Your chest tightens slightly as you scroll. Before you is a scanned copy of your own handwriting. You sink down onto your front steps without really deciding to, your bag slipping from your shoulder as you bring the screen closer to read.
Hi…me?
This feels weird. I don’t even know how to start this without sounding dumb but I guess that’s kind of the point? You’re probably not the same person writing this anymore so…hi. I hope you’re okay….I hope you’re happy.
Right now I feel like everything is just starting. Like I finally made it somewhere I’ve been dreaming about for years. New York still doesn’t feel real, like I’m going to wake up and be back home again lol.
Did we stay? Please tell me we stayed.
Also…did we write it? Our book? I keep telling everyone I’m going to be a New York Times bestselling author one day and they all nod like I’m insane or don’t have what it takes. I think I do though. I think I have it in me. I just hope you didn’t give up on that.
Oh! And Manon, are we still friends? She’s literally my favorite person right now. We keep joking about living together after graduation like it’s a given. Did we actually do it? Because I feel like we would be so good at it. Does Sohee come to visit like he says he will? Does he freeload and steal our food before offering to pay us by singing old Justin Bieber?
There’s a pause in the letter. You can see it in the way your handwriting dips slightly, like you hesitated even back then.
Anton…I don’t know why I’m even writing about him but…he’s really nice. Like, really nice. Being around him makes me…happy. There’s something about him, I don’t know. Anyway, I feel like he’s going to do something big one day. I don’t know what yet but I know he has it in him. I hope he accomplishes all of it.
I hope we stay close.
Your vision blurs before you even realize you’re crying. The girl who wrote this…she sounds so sure…so hopeful. So painfully unaware of everything that would come after. You let out a shaky breath, your hand coming up to cover your mouth as the tears finally spill over, sliding down your cheeks before you can stop them.
You don’t even notice the second email come in right away. It’s only when the ding sounds and your phone buzzes again, sharp against your palm, that your eyes flick to the top of the screen.
Subject line: English 102 – Letter to the Future, Anton Lee.
Your breath stutters. For a second, you think it has to be some kind of mistake, a glitch. Maybe your professor sent things out in bulk and accidentally attached the wrong file to the wrong name.
You tap it anyway.
The screen shifts and there his handwriting sits. Neater than yours and slightly slanted. You can almost see him again, hunched over his notebook in that classroom, chewing on his pencil, tapping it against the page while he thought too hard about the assignment. You start reading.
It’s kind of funny how we’re supposed to capture something meaningful in a letter like this. As if we can freeze a version of ourselves in time and trust that it’ll still make sense years from now. I don’t think it works like that.
I think people change too fast for that. Or maybe not fast enough. Maybe we just carry different versions of ourselves at the same time and pretend they don’t contradict each other.
Right now, I feel like I’m somewhere in between a lot of things. Not really who I was when I first got here but not fully who I’m supposed to be yet either. People talk about “finding yourself” like it’s a destination, like one day you just wake up and everything clicks into place. I don’t think that’s real. I think it’s more like…you keep going and hope you recognize yourself along the way.
Freshman year is almost over and it already feels like something I won’t ever get back. Not in a sad way. Just in a…you don’t realize how important something is until you’re already moving past it kind of way.
Like how certain days feel bigger than others for no reason. Or how certain people do.
Your breath catches before you even get to the next line.
I think you’re one of those people for me. I didn’t expect that.
If I’m being honest, I didn’t expect to get this attached to anyone here. I’ve never really been good at that. Not in a cold way, I don’t think. Just…sometimes it feels like people experience things in a way I can’t fully reach. Like there’s always a small gap between what they feel and what I understand but with you, it’s different. Or at least it feels different.
You swallow hard.
I don’t know how to explain it without sounding like I’m overthinking something simple but I think about you more than I probably should. Not in a weird way. (Okay, maybe a little in a weird way.)
A broken laugh escapes you through your tears.
I think about the way you talk about things you love, the way you only ever read hard copy versions of books. The way you get frustrated when people don’t take writing seriously. The way you appreciate the more sentimental things life has to offer.
It makes me want to listen. Even when I don’t understand half of it. I don’t know what happens after this year. I don’t know what happens after any of this, actually.
Everyone keeps asking those big questions like where we’re going, what we’re becoming, what the point of all of this is supposed to be and I don’t have an answer. I don’t think anyone really does.
But I do know this: I’m really glad I met you.
Tears slip faster down your cheeks, dripping onto your screen.
I almost didn’t, which is the craziest part. (crazy am i right?)
If Sohee hadn’t dragged me to your door that day, I probably would’ve just…kept walking and you would’ve just been another person in the hallway. Someone I passed by without thinking twice.
And now I can’t imagine this year without you in it. I don’t know if I’ll ever say any of this out loud. I feel like I won’t. Not because I don’t want to but because I don’t know if I’m supposed to.
There’s a version of this where I tell you and everything changes. Maybe for the better, maybe not. And there’s another version where I don’t say anything and I get to keep what we already have. I think I’m a little selfish when it comes to that.
So if you’re reading this and I never told you…I think I liked you. No
The word is scratched out slightly, like he went back over it.
I know I did. I just didn’t know what to do with it. Maybe by the time you’re reading this, I figured it out. Maybe I told you and we laughed about how obvious it was. Maybe we tried. Maybe we didn’t. Maybe we’re still in each other’s lives in some way that makes sense.
And if we’re not…then I hope you’re still writing. I hope you didn’t let anything or anyone convince you to stop. I hope you became everything you said you would, even if it looks different than you imagined.
And I hope, in some small way, I was part of that version of your life. You were my favorite part of this year. I think you might be my favorite part of college.
And if I never got the chance to say it properly…then just know I would’ve chosen you.
The sob hits you before you can brace for it.
It tears out of your chest, sharp and broken, your whole body folding forward as if the weight of it all finally catches up to you at once. Your phone slips slightly in your grasp but you don’t let go, your fingers tightening around it like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.
“Fuck—” you choke, dragging in a breath that doesn’t quite fill your lungs. Your shoulders shake, your head dropping as tears fall freely now.
You walked away. You walked away from him.
From every version of him that tried quietly, stubbornly and consistently to meet you where you were too scared to stand. The freshman who hoped you’d stay close, the sophomore who fell for you in all the ways possible, the junior who asked you to stop pretending and the senior who laid everything out and still chose you.
“____?”
A soft calling of your name cuts through your self deprecating thoughts. You don’t look up right away, too far gone. It’s only when you feel a shift beside you that you finally blink through your tears to find Manon perched beside you on your stoop.
She sets her bag down beside her and just looks at you for a second, taking you in, your tear-streaked face and your trembling hands. “You got the letter?” she asks gently.
You hiccup, the sound catching in your throat as your brows knit together. “W-what? H-how did you—”
Manon exhales softly, leaning her elbows onto her knees. “I got mine at dinner.” She folds her hands before continuing. “Anton told me he wrote to you.”
Your head snaps toward her. “What?”
She shrugs one shoulder, nudging her bag further aside with her foot. “Beginning of sophomore year.” she adds.
“He—” you start then stop because what is there to even say to that?
Manon watches you carefully for a second longer before letting out a quiet breath. She leans back slightly, bracing her hands against the step behind her. “Are you finally done running?” she asks.
The question lands like a slap to the face. For a moment, you don’t answer. You just stare at the ground between your feet, your tears slowing but not stopping, your mind replaying everything at once.
Manon doesn’t fill the silence, lets you sit in it however uncomfortable it may be. For the first time in two years, you don’t deflect. “I didn’t know…I didn’t know he—” your throat tightens again, cutting you off.
Manon hums quietly. “Yeah, you did.” She says.
You flinch slightly at that. She softens almost immediately, nudging your knee with hers. “Maybe not like this but…you knew.” She amends, nodding toward your phone.
You don’t argue. Manon exhales, dragging a hand down her face before resting her chin in her palm. “I knew about the two of you before…Sohee knew too, by the way. Maybe not everything but…we knew enough. His feelings weren’t exactly subtle.”
A weak, humorless laugh escapes you. “I thought we were so slick.”
“Please,” she snorts lightly. “Everyone could see it except you.”
You shake your head, more tears slipping free. “That’s not…”
“It is. I’ve been watching you self-sabotage for two years.” She cuts in frimly.
The words sting. Not because they’re harsh but because they’re true. “I got frustrated,” she admits after a beat, her tone quieter now.
“Watching you push him away then get mad when he didn’t stay exactly where you left him. Watching you settle for…less.” She gestures vaguely, she doesn’t even need to say Jake’s name.
Your gaze drops as you think about every time she defended Anton during senior year. Every time she looked at you like she was trying to understand why you kept choosing the harder option.
“I should’ve stopped you…with Jake I mean. I knew you didn’t love him the way you loved..the way you love Anton.”
You don’t deny it. You sniff, wiping at your face with the back of your hand as you look away, the street lights blurring together in front of you. The two of you sit in silence for a beat before Manon speaks up again.
“...I still talk to him.”
Your head turns so fast it almost hurts. “What?”
Manon shrugs, like she expected that reaction. “Not all the time but...yeah. We keep in touch. Sohee too.”
“He’s…okay?” you ask.
She nods. “He’s good. Booked and busy. Music stuff is actually going really well.”
You smile, at least he accomplished his dreams. Manon studies your face for a second before reaching into her bag, pulling out her phone. “Actually…” she hesitates then unlocks it, scrolling for a moment. “There’s something you should hear.”
She taps her screen then turns it slightly so you can see. “It’s his latest release, he sent it to me two nights ago.”
You look at the title and your heart constricts all over again. Before You Leave Me.
Manon presses play and you listen with baited breath. You don’t make it past the first verse before your vision blurs again.
Darling, handle me with care
Cover me in bubble wrap
I’m scared you really mean it
That you’re never comin’ back
Your chest caves in slowly, your hand tightening around your phone as the next lines play.
Know I can’t change your mind
But how could you just leave like that?
Manon doesn’t say anything beside you. She just lets it play, lets it sink in. The chorus hits and it feels like it knocks the air out of your lungs completely.
Just give me one more night
Hold me like you’re still mine
Oh, love me for right now
Before you leave me
You squeeze your eyes shut but it only makes it worse. The memory overlaps with the sound, his arms around you, his voice against your skin, the way he held you like he already knew you were going to go. Like he was asking for something you were never going to give him.
I know it’s gonna hurt
Watching your footsteps turn
So, love me for right now
Before you leave me
Your shoulders shake as the realization settles in. He knew. Some part of him knew. Even that night when he was laying there with you, when he was telling you about brownstones and writing and staying, he knew you might still walk away but he loved you anyway.
You drag in a shaky breath, pressing your palm harder against your mouth. “Stop.” You beg Manon, turning away from her. “Turn it off!”
She complies right away. The music cuts off mid-line, the silence that follows almost louder than the song itself. “I can’t—” you choke, dragging a hand down your face. “I can’t listen to that. I can’t!”
“Okay. Then what can you do?” She asks.
You blink at her, thrown off by the shift. “What?” you rasp.
“What can you do, ____?” she repeats, leaning forward now, elbows braced against her knees. “Because I’ve watched you do this for two years. Self destruct and wait for the damage to pass by.”
Your brows knit together, a weak shake of your head already forming. “That’s not—”
“You don’t get to sit here and act like this blindsided you. None of this is new. The only thing that’s new is that you can’t pretend you didn’t know anymore.”
“That’s not fair,” you mutter.
“No. It’s not. That’s the point.” She rebuttals.
She softens slightly. “You knew he loved you and instead of meeting him there, you made him work for it then punished him by walking away. You don’t get to fall apart like this and act like you’re helpless in all of it. You made choices too.”
“I was scared,” you admit, barely above a whisper.
“I know,” Manon says.
Nothing is said beyond that. After minutes of sitting in silence, Manon pats your leg softly. “His number hasn’t changed.”
She doesn’t linger after that. Manon pushes herself up, brushing her hands against her dress before reaching down to grab her bag. She pauses for half a second, like she might say something else but whatever it is, she decides against it. Instead, she gives your knee one last squeeze then she turns and heads inside, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving you alone on the step.
You sit there a moment longer, your phone still in your hand, his letter open on the screen waiting for you to do something with it. Your chest still aches and your eyes still sting but you sniff once and remind yourself you caused this pain.
You look down at your phone again and swipe out of the email, not wanting to face it anymore. Tonight, you need to forget it all. You inhale slowly and push yourself up from the steps. Your legs feel a little unsteady at first but you adjust, sliding your bag back onto your shoulder and wiping at your face with the sleeve of your jacket.
You walk aimlessly down the street back towards the subway entrance. You swipe your metro car and step onto the platform, the train arrives in five minutes. You get on, not thinking of the destination, just letting your feet carry you.
Your mind drifts, your thoughts looping through everything that’s just happened; Jake’s face, Manon’s words, the letter, the song…Anton. You stare out the window as the train carries you further and further into the city.
Eventually, the train slows and the doors slide open. You step out onto the platform you haven’t stood on in a while, the familiarity hitting you in a way that feels almost disorienting. Your feet move before you can second guess it, carrying you up the stairs and out onto the street.
You walk and walk and walk. You don’t stop until you’re standing in front of phebes. The neon sign flickers faintly above the door, the same way it always did. You can hear the music from outside, muffled but familiar.
For a second you just stand there taking it all in. You haven’t visited NYU since graduation, haven’t made it to this side of town since you left Anton. You push down the thought the second you push open the door. Inside, it’s exactly how you remember. Dim lighting, sticky floors and music just loud enough to drown out your thoughts if you let it. The layout hasn’t changed.
You slide onto a stool at the bar without hesitation. The bartender who approaches you isn’t one you recognize. “What can I get you?”
You don’t hesitate. “Two shots of don julio, keep the tab running.”
The bartender nods, already reaching for the bottle. He pours quickly and slides the small glasses toward you with a dish of lime wedges. You grab the first shot and lick the salt rim before tossing the tequila back in one smooth motion. You suck in a breath through your teeth, chasing it with the lime, blinking hard as your eyes water.
“Rough night?” the bartender asks, seemingly unfazed.
You let out a humorless snort, setting the empty glass down a little harder than you mean to. “Try two years.”
He pauses for half a second, caught off guard by the honestly then offers a small awkward smile. “Yeah…that’ll do it,” he mutters, already stepping away to tend to someone further down the bar.
You don’t watch him go, you just reach for the second shot. This one goes down easier. Or maybe you just don’t care as much. Either way, you welcome the burn. You exhale slowly, fingers wrapping around the empty glass as you start to twirl it against the bartop. Your mind won’t stop.
Jake. Manon. The letter. The song. Anton.
You’re already lifting your hand to signal for another when the stool beside you scrapes softly against the floor. Your jaw tightens at the new presence, irritation flaring up faster than it should. It’s barely five pm on a Thursday, the place is practically empty. There are a dozen other open seats and this asshat chooses the one right next to you? Seriously?
You roll your eyes, turning fully now, already halfway into telling them to move. “Excuse me,”
The words die the second they leave your mouth and your eyes catch sight of who the stranger is. Sat before you is none other than Anton Lee.
For a split second, he looks just as caught off guard as you feel. His brows lift slightly, his posture stilling like he wasn’t expecting this either. It’s gone as quick as it came.
Your eyes tear away from his gaze to take him in greedily, trying to make up for two years worth of absence. His hair is longer now, falling around his face and dyed a deep auburn. It’s styled back enough to show his forehead.
Your gaze drops. His gold chain is still there, resting against his collarbone. The same Lange & Söhne Odysseus sits at his wrist. He’s dressed simply, jeans and a henley, sleeves pushed up to expose his forearms.
Your eyes lift back to his face. You find him staring at you too, like he was inventorying all the new details about you. Anton’s lips curve into a gentle smile despite everything that sits between you.
🍼 genre: slice of life au
🍼 pairing: husband!anton x f!reader
🍼 word count: 5.1k
🍼 summary: you’ve been exhausted for days, blaming jet lag and long flights, until small changes begin to stack in ways you can’t ignore.
🍼 warnings: talks of pregnancy, mentions of alcohol, drinking while pregnant (unknowingly), slight body dysmorphia/insecurity, let me know if i missed anything else!
✎୭: thank u anonie who sent this in ! luv writing for this universe hehe
you can barely keep your head up.
you’re curled into the corner of the couch in your at-home studio, legs tucked beneath you while your husband sits a few feet away hunched over his laptop with a pair of headphones on. one side of his headphones rests properly over his ear, the other pushed back just enough so he can still hear you if you speak. he’s clicking through sounds choosing to spend his downtime working on producing some new tracks.
the two of you wrapped up lunch not long ago and drifted downstairs to the basement to work on your separate things, not wanting to be separate but also not wanting to insert yourselves into each other’s thing.
you have a book perched on your lap, the third installment of a court of thorns and roses. you’ve been tearing through it embarrassingly fast; staying up too late, sneaking chapters in between flights and meals. normally you can’t put it down, right now you can’t seem to keep your eyes open.
you blink slowly then harder as if that might fix your drowsiness. your gaze drops back to the page and you try to reread the paragraph you’re on but the words blur together. you’re fairly certain this is the fourth time you’ve started the same sentence. your head tips forward before you can stop it. your chin dips toward your chest and the book slips from your hands, hitting the floor with a dull thud.
the sound startles you awake.
you blink fast, trying to reorient yourself as anton spins around in his chair pulling his headphones off. there’s a small smile on his face as you rub at your eyes in a half-hearted attempt to wake yourself up.
“sorry,” you mumble.
he doesn’t comment on it, just stands and crosses the room, bending to pick your book up off the floor and hands it over. you take it with an embarrassed laugh. “thank you.” you murmur.
anton hums in response. he looks you over carefully and his brow furrows when you yawn again. you shake your head, trying to blink away the lingering fog, thumb slipping between pages as you attempt to find where you left off.
“you okay?” he asks gently. “are you…coming down with something?”
you stare at the page for a second longer before giving up. with a quiet sigh you close the book and rest it against your chest. “i’m fine,” you say, yawning through your words. “just really…really sleepy.”
he doesn’t look convinced. you don’t blame him for being wary though, you’ve been falling asleep everywhere lately; during short car rides, halfway through zoom meetings. you’re pretty sure he caught you nodding off in the bathroom last night, toothbrush still in your mouth.
you offer him a smile, hoping to ease the tension between his brows. “it’s probably just jet lag, we did just get back from seoul.” you reason.
it’s been four days since you touched down, realistically you should be adjusted by now…anton is. still, you tell yourself bodies are strange maybe yours is just taking a little longer to catch up because of how long it's been since you’ve been on the east coast.
anton mulls it over, lips pursed before nodding slowly. “yeah…that makes sense.”
he steps closer anyway and reaches out, his thumb brushing softly along your cheek. “want me to carry you upstairs?”
you shake your head. “no. i like being down here and your music is relaxing.”
his lips curve into a soft smile, cheeks tinting pink as he lets out a quiet laugh. he reaches for the spare blanket you keep folded over the back of the couch and drapes it over you, tucking it around your hips. once he deems you cozy enough, he presses a kiss to your forehead then lets his lips trail down until they meet your lips. he gives you three gentle pecks before pulling away. “get comfy then.”
he heads back to his seat, settling in front of his laptop again. after a few tweaks to his beat, he asks, “can you help me with this new track? just listen?”
he’s met with silence.
he pauses, swiveling his chair around only to find you already fast asleep, head resting on the arm of the chair, blanket pulled up to your chin. anton exhales softly, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watches you for a moment longer than necessary before turning back to his screen, lowering the volume even further.
THREE DAYS LATER
you stumble back into your home a little after midnight, cheeks warm and flushed from the wine you definitely drank too much of. even with the east coast wind biting at your face the entire walk from the uber, you still feel warm all over. anton is close behind you, already reaching for your coat before you even think to take it off yourself, fingers brushing your waist as he helps you out of it, pressing a quick kiss to your temple.
you drift toward the stairs without much direction, your body heavy and content from good food and a long day spent walking everywhere. today marks day seven of anton’s break, a full week back in jersey and he’d decided early that morning that you were going to new york whether you felt like it or not.
he hadn’t wanted to drive, said it defeated the point so the two of you took the train in, bundled up side by side his arm slung around your shoulders as the city slowly came back into view. he’d spent the day pulling you from place to place showing you places from his teenage years; the coffee shop where he used to sit for hours, headphones in people watching, the park where he would go and sample random noises for old beats and lastly a record store he frequented for old vinyl.
by the time dinner rolled around, your feet hurt and your stomach was growling and anton looked smug as he led you into a dimly lit italian restaurant. you shared plates of carbonara and a lobster ravioli and split a bottle of wine that turned into more than one glass for you despite your best judgment. he kept reaching for your hand and would lean in to steal kisses between bites like no one else was there.
now, standing at the bottom of the stairs, all of it catches up to you at once, the fatigue that has been trailing you for days and the tiredness from exploring the big apple.
you sink down onto one of the steps with a soft laugh, pressing your back against the railing, suddenly very aware of how full you are and how little you want to move.
anton turns around, already smiling when he sees you. “already giving up?” he asks, stepping closer.
“i just need a second,” you say, words slow and loose.
he laughs, shakes his head and before you can even think to argue, he scoops you up, one arm under your knees, the other around your back. you yelp, hands flying to his shoulders, laughter spilling out of you as he starts up the stairs.
“anton! put me down!”
“nope.” he says grinning, enunciating the p.
you’re both laughing by the time he reaches the top, breathless and giddy, the sound of it echoing softly through the quiet home.
he sets you down carefully on the bed and then he follows you down, draping himself over you fully, his weight familiar and comforting. you smile at the feel of him there, arms sliding around his shoulders as you tilt your head up and kiss him.
he hums into it and kisses you back slowly and unhurried. when he pulls back just enough to look at you, he smiles softly. “hi.” he says, like he hasn’t seen you all day.
you giggle, the sound light and breathy and let your head fall back against the pillows. your eyes flutter closed for half a second longer than you mean them to, your body already halfway gone. anton immediately notices.
“no,” he whines, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “don’t you dare fall asleep.”
you groan, dragging an arm over your eyes. “five minutes.”
he snorts. “you will not wake back up.”
“i will,” you insist weakly, already losing the argument.
he sighs, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before rolling off you and standing up. “bathroom. now.” he gives your hips a few gentle taps. if you weren’t halfway drunk and so exhausted you’re sure it would of had a bigger effect on you
you groan again, louder this time but you obey anyway shuffling toward the bathroom while he laughs quietly behind you.
you shower quickly, more to wake yourself up than anything else, letting the hot water run over you. when you step out wrapped in a towel, anton is just coming back upstairs with a glass of water and a couple of pills he sets on the counter.
“just in case.” he says, kissing your cheek.
you smile at him, take the water and swap places with him as he steps into the shower. you brush your teeth, wipe the last of your makeup away and watch anton’s blurred silhouette move behind the glass, letting your imagination run for a little while.
a few minutes later he steps out with a towel slung low around his waist, his skin still damp. you can’t help the way your eyes linger, slow and appreciative as you eye the ridges on his abs and how water runs down his v-line.
he catches you and smirks. “see something you like?”
you don’t even deny it. he just laughs and reaches for his toothbrush, turning to the sink as you focus on your own reflection again. you pull your skincare out from the drawers, lining things up the way you always do, splashing water on your face before reaching instinctively for your rings to drop them into the little jewelry dish you keep by the sink.
you tug at the two rings that sit on your ring finger but neither moves. you pause, blinking at your reflection before trying again however, they still don’t budge.
your brows furrow. you pull a little harder this time and wince when a sharp throb shoots through your finger. you gasp quietly, looking down to see why your rings won’t budge. you’re not prepared for how swollen your fingers are.
“anton,” you say, voice pitching slightly.
he’s already turned to face you, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, brows pulling together the second he sees your face. you try one last time to tug the ring free and suck in a breath when it hurts.
he spits his toothpaste out immediately. “wait,” he says gently but firmly, reaching for your hand. “you’re going to hurt yourself.”
you pout, frustration rising fast. your gaze drifts to your reflection and you notice it, how bloated you are, how your stomach looks rounder than it normally does after a night out.
your throat tightens. “i’m fat.” you say quietly, the words slipping out before you can stop them.
anton scowls at you the second the words leave your mouth. he drops your hand only to cup your face instead, thumbs brushing gently along your cheeks until you’re forced to look at him. “____,” he says softly but firmly. “no.”
you shake your head, eyes glassy. “my ring doesn’t fit a-and i feel gross and—”
“baby,” he interrupts, brows knitting now, not liking the way you’re talking about yourself. “you’re not fat. you’re a perfectly healthy weight and even if you gained a little, which happens, that’s not a bad thing.”
you sniff, still unconvinced so he continues. “we ate a lot of salty food today, we had wine, we’ve been traveling. your body’s probably still adjusting from the flight.”
he kisses you gently, once, twice and then a third time. “you’re beautiful.”
you breathe out slowly, letting his words sink in, trying to believe them yourself. “thank you,” you say quietly.
you abandon the rest of your skincare after that, suddenly uninterested in staring at your reflection any longer. instead you turn toward the bedroom, exhaustion crashing back over you all at once.
“i should sleep, i have brunch with the girls tomorrow. i don’t want to oversleep.” you mumble.
anton smiles softly and leans in to kiss you again, slow and reassuring. you return it briefly before pulling away, padding straight to bed and curling beneath the covers without a second thought. he finishes brushing his teeth before turning the bathroom light off and following you soon after.
you keep flexing your fingers against the tabletop, opening and closing your hand without really meaning to, distracted by how strange it feels not to have the familiar weight of your wedding band and engagement ring present. your skin is pale where they should be, a faint indentation if you look closely enough.
anton had helped you take them off while you were getting ready. it took ten minutes of gently tugging before they finally slid free and he kissed your knuckles apologetically, promising it was just for the day just to see if it helps with the swelling.
your friends jen and nyla sit across from you, leaning in toward each other as they look over the menu. you can hear them talking but don’t register a single word. your attention keeps drifting back inward; between falling asleep everywhere, the constant heaviness in your body and now this weird swelling you can’t explain, you feel hyper-aware of yourself in a way you’re not used to. you’re still staring at your hand when nyla speaks again.
“earth to ____?”
you blink, lifting your head a little too quickly. “what?”
nyla arches a brow at you. “did you hear anything we just said?”
“sorry,” you say, rubbing your thumb against your palm. “i zoned out.”
jen’s eyes flick down to your hands for a second before returning to your face. she hesitates and clears her throat softly. “are you…are you and anton okay?”
the question throws you completely. “yeah,” you answer immediately, confusion knitting your brows. “why?”
nyla doesn’t hesitate. “you’re not wearing your rings and you’ve been frowning since you got here.”
you glance down at your hand again then back up at them, understanding clicking into place. “oh! no! we’re fine, really.”
jen still looks a little unsure so you explain, “my fingers have just been really swollen so anton suggested i take them off today to see if it helps.”
“swollen?” nyla repeats, tilting her head.
you shrug. “yeah. i don’t…it’s weird.”
they both watch you for a moment not saying anything but then jen nods slowly, accepting your answer. “okay,” she says gently.
nyla lets it go too, already turning her attention back to the menu. “fair enough.”
you exhale, sinking back into your seat, fingers curling against the table again without thinking. the empty space on your hand still feels wrong.
you pick the menu up to make your selection, maybe food will help clear your mind a bit.
nyla is still debating across from you, tapping the side of her glass absentmindedly. “i don’t know if i want the blueberry pancakes or strawberry crepes,” she says half to herself, half to the table.
you glance up from your menu, lips curving faintly. “want to get the pancakes and we can split the crepes? that way you don’t have to choose.” you suggest.
nyla considers it for all of two seconds. “that’s…actually genius.”
“you’re just indecisive," jen says dryly.
“oh yeah? and what are you getting,” nyla says, already nodding at the server when they come by.
jen scoffs and rolls her eyes, letting nyla order first before putting in an order of french toast. you end up ordering something simple for yourself; eggs, toast and a black coffee, nothing adventurous lest you upset your stomach on top of bloating. after the server leaves, jen leans forward, elbows on the table. “so…how’s married life?”
you don’t hesitate. “amazing. it’s been a dream honestly.”
jen smiles at that. “yeah? he treating you right?”
you huff out a quiet laugh. “he always has.”
nyla hums, resting her chin in her hand. “i still can’t get over the fact that you guys are actually married…like what? it’s also weird that you’re back in jersey.”
you laugh and reach for your glass of water. “yeah it is crazy when i think about it but it's the best decision i’ve ever made.” you shrug in thought. “it’s nice being back in jersey too. seoul is pretty and all but nothing beats home.”
“five months is insane. what are you guys even doing with all that free time?” jen says, referencing the amount of time anton and the boys were given for a break.
you think about it for a second, shrugging. “nothing crazy. staying in a lot, cooking, watching stuff. he’s been in the studio downstairs most days. we just kind of…exist near each other.”
nyla makes a face. “that’s disgustingly cute.”
you laugh, shaking your head. “it’s nice,” you admit.
the conversation drifts for a bit after that, bouncing between topics without much thought. you nod along, add in where you can, but you can feel yourself slipping again, attention lagging just a half step behind everything else. you resort to pinching your thigh to stay awake.
the food arrives not long after. plates are set down in front of each of you, the table filling quickly with pancakes stacked high, french toast dusted with powdered sugar, your plate of eggs and toast placed neatly in front of you, the crepes sit in the middle.
the smell of the crepes hit you almost immediately. they’re sweet almost in a sickly way and yet putrid, your stomach turns before you can stop it. a sudden wave of nausea rolling through you so fast it catches you off guard. you gag automatically, hand flying up to cover your mouth.
“____! what the heck? are you okay?" nyla asks, already running a hand on your back.
"i-i think. the crepes just smell...disgusting." the scent lingers in the air so you clamp your mouth closed with your other hand.
both nyla and jen give you a weird, incredulous look, "you literally love strawberry crepes." jen says.
"maybe the strawberries are bad." nyla offers before cutting into the crepes to inspect the fruit herself and shakes her head, "they look fine to me." she even takes a bite. "they taste just fine too."
you hold out your hand to take another whiff, maybe you had caught the scent of something else but still when the overly sweet and sour fumes hit your nostrils, you reel back and vigorously shake your head. "no. it smells gross."
your friends share a look. "are you pregnant?" jen asks under her breath, leaning forward a bit.
for a second, you just stare at her, still holding your breath like that might keep the nausea at bay, your hand hovering uselessly in the air. “what?” you say.
nyla’s hand slows against your back, her attention fully on you now and you can feel both of them watching you in a way that makes it impossible to pretend you didn’t hear what was just said.
you swallow, lowering your hand slowly, your mind already starting to work through it whether you want it to or not. you try to think back; dates, timelines, anything that could give you a clear answer but it’s all a blur of travel and long days and nights that bled into each other.
you and anton have never been careless exactly but you also haven’t been strict with birth control. you have an iud, have had it for a while now and somewhere along the way it turned into a kind of reassurance that everything would just…be fine. that you didn’t have to think about it too hard, didn’t have to track every period or worry about condoms or pulling out and didn't have to rush to buy emergency contraceptives.
you exhale slowly, leaning back into your chair, your fingers curling against the edge of the table again. “i don’t know…i haven’t taken a test or anything. it’s just…” you glance down at your plate then back up at them. “i don’t know.”
jen’s hand comes to rest lightly over yours. “we can go get a test, there’s a pharmacy right down the block. we can just walk over after this, it doesn’t have to be a whole thing.”
you immediately shake your head. you want anton to be there, whether it’s positive or not. “no. i need anton.”
jen nods right away, like she expected that. “okay.”
nyla gives a small shrug, already easing back into her seat. “yeah, that makes sense,” she says, picking her fork back up like nothing has changed.
and just like that, the moment passes. the conversation shifts, drifting into something lighter and easier and you try to follow along, nodding at the right times, offering small responses when you can but your mind keeps circling back to the possibility of being pregnant.
your drive back home feels shorter than usual, though you’re not sure if it’s because of traffic or because your mind won’t stay still long enough to notice the time passing. you sit in your car once you pull into the driveway to collect yourself.
you sit there for a total of thirty minutes before gathering enough courage to climb out and go face your husband. the house is quiet when you step inside. you kick your shoes off near the door, shrug your jacket off your shoulders and for a moment you just stand there, listening for anton. you hear movement coming from the kitchen so you follow it.
you find anton standing at the island, back to you and shirtless, a light sheen of sweat still clinging to his skin from what you assume is his typical afternoon workout. his hair is damp at the edges, curling slightly and he’s focused on what he’s doing, slicing fruit probably for his protein shake.
for a second, you just watch him. he glances over his shoulder when he hears you come in, the corner of his mouth lifting immediately when he sees you. “hey, baby” he says, turning slightly. “how was—”
“—i think i’m pregnant.”
it comes out before you can stop it. before you can soften it, or ease into it or choose better timing. the words hang in the air between you..
anton stills. the knife in his hand pauses mid-motion before he sets it down carefully on the counter, turning to face you fully now. his expression isn’t panicked, rather calm and you don’t know if that soothes you or panics you even more. “what?” is all he asks,
you shrug, suddenly unsure what to do with your hands, your voice quieter now that it’s actually out there. “i don’t know. i haven’t taken a test or anything. it’s just—” you trail off, searching for the right words and not finding any. “a feeling…? a hunch?”
he just watches you for a second, taking it in then he moves towards you slowly, like he doesn’t want to startle you. his hands find your waist first, warm and steady and then he pulls you into him without hesitation, grounding you in a way that makes your shoulders drop just a little.
“do you want to be pregnant?” he asks softly.
the question catches somewhere in your chest. you hadn’t really let yourself go that far yet, hadn’t let the thought fully take shape beyond maybe. your hand lifts almost automatically, pressing lightly against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm.
you tilt your head, looking up at him, searching his face. “do you want me to be?” you ask instead.
anton exhales quietly, his lips pressing together for a second, like he’s holding something back on purpose. his thumb moves absently against your side, a small, repetitive motion that tells you he’s thinking harder than he’s letting on. “you first,” he says finally.
you let out a small laugh, more out of nerves than anything else, your teeth catching your bottom lip as you look away for a second, trying to gather your thoughts. you think about the past year: about your wedding, settling into this life with him, the transition.
you also think about kids. about the way he is with them, the way he’s talked to you about wanting some one day with you. you look back at him, your answer coming easier than you expect. “yeah, i do.” you say softly, nodding once then again, a little more sure this time. “i really do.”
his shoulders relax, something in his expression softening as a small smile pulls at his lips. “me too,” he says.
you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your forehead brushing lightly against his for a second before you both pull back just enough to look at each other again. his hand squeezes lightly at your hip before he pulls back just enough to take your hand, already guiding you toward the stairs. “come on,” he says. “we still have some tests, right?”
“yeah. in the bathroom.”
he hums and leads you upstairs and you step into your bathroom together. anton moves first, opening the drawer, pulling out the box you both forgot was still there. he turns back to you, holding it out, his fingers brushing yours when you take it.
for a second, neither of you says anything. you exhale slowly steadying yourself before turning away to take the test. anton stays by the sink while you pee on the stick. once you finish your business and drop the test face down on the counter, he slots in behind you and lets his right hand settle on your stomach, thumb moving in slow soothing circles.
“okay,” he murmurs, reaching around you to grab his phone. you hear the quiet tap of the screen as he sets a timer before he sets it down beside the sink.
neither of you moves right away.
anton’s chin comes to rest near your shoulder, his voice quieter now. “do you want a girl or a boy?”
you let out a small breath, the question catching you off guard. “a girl,” you say eventually.
you feel him smile against your shoulder. “yeah?”
you nod, even though he can’t really see it. “what about you?”
his hand shifts slightly, thumb still moving. “me too,” he admits. “i want a girl.”
you turn your head just enough to glance at him, catching the way his expression has softened completely, something almost shy settling there. “another princess for me to spoil,” he adds.
“you’re already planning?” you murmur, tilting your head just enough to look at him a little more.
he shrugs lightly behind you but his hand doesn’t stop moving, thumb still tracing those slow, steady circles against your stomach. “just thinking,” he says, softer now. “i think i’d be really good at it.”
your throat tightens a little and you don’t trust yourself to answer right away, so you just lean back into him instead.
the timer cuts through the moment and you both still. anton freezes for half a second more before reaching forward to silence his phone, setting it back down on the counter
you swallow, your fingers curling against the edge of the counter as your eyes fix anywhere but the test. “i can’t. can you look?” you admit, voice small now.
being the amazing husband he is, he doesn’t hesitate. he leans in first, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his hand squeezing lightly at your hip before he steps forward, moving around you so he’s standing in front of the counter. you turn slightly, your eyes fixed anywhere but the counter as he reaches for the test, flipping it over carefully in his hand.
there’s a beat of silence. then another. you turn back to watch his face instead, the way his eyes scan it, the way his brows pull together. “anton? what does it say?” you call softly, your heart climbing into your throat.
he doesn’t answer.
your chest tightens. “anton!”
his eyes gloss over, his lips part slightly like he’s trying to speak and can’t quite get there and before you can even ask again he lets out a small, breathless laugh. he turns the test toward you.
you’re met with two dark lines.
for a second you just stare at it, like your brain needs a moment to catch up to what you’re seeing. “oh my god,” you breathe, the words falling out of you as your vision blurs.
anton lets out a quiet, disbelieving sound, shaking his head slightly as he looks back at you, eyes shining now. “it’s positive,” he says, his voice breaking just slightly on the last word.
you laugh and cry at the same time, your hands flying up to your face before you reach for him. He eagerly pulls you into him, arms wrapping tight around you like he doesn’t ever want to let go.
“thank you,” he murmurs against your hair, voice thick, repeating it again and again like it’s the only thing he can think to say. “thank you. thank you.”
you cling to him, your face pressed into his chest, both of you laughing softly through tears as the reality settles between you.
his hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, holding you there. “i love you.” he says through tears.
you laugh through tears of your own and wipe his away. “i love you more. i can’t wait for this chapter with you.”
he exhales shakily, his forehead dropping to yours, his hand slipping from the back of your head to rest low against your stomach again, like it’s instinct now. neither of you says anything after that. you just stand there, wrapped up in each other, letting it settle.
for the first time since you returned to jersey, everything feels as if it's finally starting to fall into place.
taglist: (please send in an ask if you asked to be aded to this series tallest, i lost my list ^^)
smut. boyfriend anton. sneaky sex, unprotected sex (p in v), he pulls out lmao, slight breastplay, mutual masturbation, aftercare
oh just send me to hell at this point. not proofread! 2.5k+ words
after your friends announced the room and bed assignments to the whole group, everyone immediately changed into their swimming outfits and headed for the beach.
anton, on the other hand, was still hunting for his swim cap. you waited patiently for him on the bed assigned to the two of you: a double-sized mattress tucked into the far corner of the room next to the bathroom.
“i thought your trunks would match my set?” you pointed out as he slathered sunscreen onto his legs.
“i forgot, baby. i’m sorry.” you only nodded in response. once you saw he was finally ready to head out, you bolted from the room first, growing impatient since everyone else was already out having fun.
you missed the sight of anton shaking the bed frame, testing it to see if it would make a noise.
when you were a short distance away, you heard his hurried footsteps jogging toward you. he caught up and instantly hooked an arm around your waist.
“you’re so hot,” he whispered, pulling you flush against his side.
“if i see someone wearing the same color as your trunks, i’m giving you away,” you joked, pulling away from his grasp to walk ahead.
he let out a playful whine. “that’s not fair.”
“okay! i’m going to ride the jetski alone,” you teased.
he pouted, giving you his best fake sulky face. “you’re mean. although i was planning to do something on the jetski.”
“huh?” you were taken aback.
what could he possibly mean by do something?
once you reached the shore, you climbed onto the driver's seat of the jetski, revving the engine and laughing with the rest as everyone was figuring out how to control the ride.
anton settled behind you, his hands gripping your waist tightly as you sped off into the open water.
once you were far enough from the shore that the group looked like tiny specks, you felt his hands wander.
one hand stayed firm on your hip while the other began to slip beneath the hem of your bikini top, his fingers tracing the curve of your skin with a bold familiarity. the sudden heat of his touch against the cold ocean air made your heart skip.
“anton, stop it,” you yelled over the roar of the engine, though you couldn't help the small smile tugging at your lips.
not content with just a wandering hand, anton leaned forward, his plump lips grazing the sensitive skin of your shoulder.
he then reached down further to tease you, his fingers hooking into the elastics of your bottoms and instantly finding your heat down there.
the way you were bouncing over the waves made your breath hitch, not helping your current situation.
“we’re going to drown here!” you yelled again, nearly causing you to jerk the handles.
you felt his chest vibrate against your back as he laughed, his lips pressing a fleeting kiss to your shoulder before he reluctantly pulled his hand away and gripped your waist properly again. “you forgot i know how to swim.”
“and you forgot we’re in public!” you remarked, slightly leaning your head back so he can hear you.
“but no one’s gonna see.” you ignored what anton had just said, forcing you to hide a smile again.
after a heavy dinner that spiraled into a night of drinking, everyone eventually stumbled back to their rooms and drifted off to sleep.
however, your boyfriend seemed to have different plans.
“should i eat you out first?” anton hissed, pausing to look up at you from where he was.
right on your boobs.
when you looked down at him, it was the exact moment his lips attached again to your hardened nipple. his free hand was busy massaging the unoccupied one, kneading it with a possessive grip.
then, he pressed his thumb firmly against the nub of the breast he was massaging, while teasingly grazing the other with his teeth.
anton earned a soft, broken moan from you, and you instinctively fisted your hands in his hair.
as he began to provide alternating, wet licks to each bud, you found yourself pushing his face closer against your chest, desperate for more.
it was sensory overload. you were squirming so much that your legs wouldn't stay still, despite anton’s weight pinning you down.
the duvet didn’t rustle much, but if anyone were to glance over right now, it would be painfully obvious that a body was draped over yours, even in the shadows of the room.
anton continued to swirl his tongue around the sensitive tips, his breath hot and ragged against your damp skin. he buried his face between your breasts to muffle a low, guttural groan.
eventually, he slid under the duvet beside you, pulling you into his side so your head rested in the crook of his shoulder.
“don’t move too much,” he whispered. the two of you were already so close, but there was a desperate need to be closer, fueled by the fear of making too much noise.
“anton. there’s other people in the room,” you hissed back, suppressing a sudden gasp by pressing your hand over your mouth.
“they’re all blacked out, i promise.” he pulled you flush against him, his hands already working at the waistband of your shorts.
you sighed before shifting in one swift motion to face him. “we should’ve gone with your jetski idea instead,” you breathed against his lips.
you felt his lips curve into a smirk. “jetski or not, you know we were always going to end up like this.” you adjusted the duvet over the both of you, feeling hyper-conscious of every rustle of fabric.
your hands slid underneath his shirt, tracing the planes of his torso as you brought your lips to his. determined to catch him off guard, you pinched his nipple, hoping to coax a sound out of him.
anton couldn’t suppress the whimper that broke through the kiss. you quickly shushed him by continuing to lap at his soft, plush lips to keep him quiet.
his fingers were already pushing inside you. he didn't even attempt to start slow or tease you first; he just surged in. “hah. i was right about you being wet already.”
as he felt your reaction, his lips pulled away from yours to roam along your jawline, trailing down to the sensitive skin of your neck.
the duvet was making far too much noise given the supposed secrecy of the moment. you stopped him before he could go any further. “next time, i’m insisting on a solo room,” you murmured.
he gave a pathetic yet frantic nod, immediately returning to the crook of your neck.
before he could lose himself again, you pulled his face back to look at you. “anton, i’m serious. they’ll kill us tomorrow if they find out.”
“i don’t care. just stay quiet.” you let out a silent groan. at this rate, your heart was going to burst long before you reached an orgasm.
“it’s more fun when there’s a thrill, baby,” anton murmured, continuing to mark your sensitive spots while you bit your lip to stifle a moan. “we’ll be fast.”
this was completely shameless.
yielding to the friction, you reached down to find the hardened length of him. you massaged him through the fabric first, earning that low, hitched breath you loved, before pushing his shorts down just enough to grip him. his tip was already slick, so you spread the moisture and began a steady, rhythmic motion.
it was a struggle to give him a proper handjob, given the cramped space and how tightly your bodies were pinned together, but the risk only seemed to make him harder.
he didn't waste a second, his fingers picking up a rhythmic, messy pace inside you that had you arching your back off the mattress. his other free hand pulled you closer, even more, so you can steady your body and not make any extra noise with the duvet.
the pace of your hand going up and down on his length matched his. every wet thrust was punctuated by the faint, rhythmic sound of skin hitting skin.
you buried your face in the crook of his neck to muffle your ragged breathing, feeling the friction of his knuckles against your sensitive skin.
he leaned in close, his hot breath ghosting over your ear as he picked up the speed, his thumb finding your clit and pinning it down with a pressure that made your toes curl under the duvet.
"babe. need to fuck you now," he urged in a gravelly whisper, his movements becoming more urgent as he felt you begin to tremble against his hand.
you managed to respond despite the continuous low gasps overflowing from your mouth. “how t-the hell?”
before eventually stopping the movements your hands were doing on his length, you squeezed his tip. he hissed at the sudden gesture, and started lapping at your lips roughly.
“turn around, we’ll make less sound.” you rolled your eyes at his crazy suggestion.
you shifted as quietly as possible, but the duvet still rustled like thunder.
definitely not a good idea. still, you like it.
you had no choice but to just swallow the huge lump on your throat.
anton hooked a leg over yours to pull you into a tight, sideways spoon. you could feel the intense thud of his heart matching your own.
"stay just like that," he breathed, his hand reaching around to grip your hip. “try not to make any noise, okay?”
"i'm gonna put it in." he guided himself in with one smooth, agonizingly slow push, the sensation of him filling you sideways making your breath hitch in your throat.
you reached back blindly, your fingers digging into his thigh as he began to move, his rhythmic thrusts shallow and controlled to keep the bed from creaking.
every time he bottomed out, he pressed a stifled, hungry kiss to your shoulder blade, his low grunts muffled against your skin. you can only bite your lip to stifle any moans.
with every shallow thrust, he tilted his hips just enough to hit a specific spot.
it was agonizingly good. anton’s grip on your hip tightened, his fingers bruising your skin as he picked up the pace, seemingly not caring about the sound of the duvet rustling too much.
“fuck, you're so tight," anton hissed into your skin, sending shivers down your spine. you can’t help but let out a grin to what he had just told you.
you buried your face deep into the pillow that you grabbed next to you, the fabric damp from your breath as you fought the urge to ruin the silence.
“harder.” you moaned out. then, his movements become more desperate and less controlled.
anton leaned down even more, his teeth grazing the sensitive part of your nape as he struggled to keep his own composure.
your heart hammered so hard against your ribs. the bed gave a tiny creak, and the both of you froze instantly.
but anton didn’t stop with his persistent movements, his thrusts are deeper now, more insistent.
you attempted to peek to check if someone from the other side of the room stirred.
“we’re good,” anton let out a shaky, hot breath against your ear.
the sound of his skin slapping wetly against yours was a rhythmic and dangerous chorus filling the room’s quiet atmosphere. it was not that loud but you can only internally offer a prayer that the others were truly as deep in their sleep.
his thrusts became shorter and more desperate, resulting in a soft moan slipping off your mouth.
“ssshh…” he rested his free thumb on your lips. your hands went feral, not knowing where to place or grip it; your toes curling against the mattress.
“you’re doing good, baby.”
anton seemed to sense you were close. you felt the familiar coil of tension tightening in your stomach, so he reached down with his thumb to find your clit, applying a grounding pressure that sent you over the edge.
this put your brain to a short circuit as his actions followed by him barely pulling out now, and opting for deep, grinding hitches that forced you to bite down hard on your lips.
overstimulation has gotten into you. “close-” your body was already shaking, your hands grabbing his nape from the back as you attempted to bring his face close so you could kiss him messily.
anton’s quads were locked tight against your legs and his hand on your hip was practically pinning you down intensely.
“we’re not doing this again, anton lee.” you squirmed while he bottomed out again.
he let out a sharp, jagged inhale through his teeth, followed by an evident smirk you felt through his breath.
then, you felt that his entire frame shuddered with the effort of keeping a low groan only heard in the tiny proximity you were keeping.
with a heavy lunge, anton buried himself deep inside you and stayed, his entire body locking up as he’s almost reaching his limit.
anton’s grip on your hips finally slackened, leaving a muffled and guttural groan right on the skin of your shoulder. he then immediately replaced it with a soft peck.
slowly, he withdrew, pulling out at the last possible second. you didn’t even have the chance to fight the soft whimper from the sudden feeling of his absence.
anton adjusted your hips while you felt your body finally relaxing as you let out your release. neither of you moved, and you can hear the loud synchronized thud of your hearts.
both bodies tensed against each other and you were exchanging ragged exhales with him in the dark.
with a quiet urgency, anton gripped himself and directed his release away from the sheets. you could hear the faint, wet sound of him moving frantically to chase his high and finish.
“fuck.” his voice barely breathed. “i love you, baby.” blurting out those words as if he was launched to cloud nine.
your eyes were still closed, tired from the sneaky situation. “tissues in my bag beside you.” your hazy mind was still able to form some words.
you felt his heavy figure slumped back against the mattress with his chest rising and falling in jagged heaves that turned into a sudden low groan.
anton crawled back toward you as he tucked his face into your neck, "worth the risk," he whispered. you scoffed in return as you felt his soft lips on your skin.
he pulled you closer and draped a heavy, protective arm over your waist.
“hell no,” your chest was still heaving. “i think i prefer the jetski idea now.”
anton pressed a sleepy kiss to the top of your head, his fingers tracing mindless circles on your arm. "let’s clean up, baby. " he murmured against your hair, his voice thick with exhaustion. “bathroom’s just to our right, so…”
you let out a long, shaky sigh of pure contentment as you fix your clothes. “you okay?” anton helped you up, enough to not cause the bed to groan.
once the door clicked shut, you immediately pulled him in for a quick hug. he rested his chin on the top of your head while you feel the warmth of his embrace. your legs swaying slightly from fatigue.
“careful,” anton whispered as he guided you. “here,” his voice lost its rasp and returned to its usual gentle tone.
anton gave you a quick kiss on the forehead as he started carefully cleaning you.
you mumbled, “we are not sharing a room with anyone next time.”
he let out a small chuckle. “you didn’t like the thrill?”
“that’s your fantasy?” you lightly smacked his arm while he was busy helping you.
suggestive. sexual tension. making out. no smut everyone will be edged :P
2759 words. not proofread + texts are plain haha 😭still, hope you enjoy 😁 lmk your thoughts :);)
today's dance practice already felt off.
you were late, dragging your feet from the exhausting shift you pulled last night, and it was a double kill when your coach decided to actually be a coach today. first thirty minutes of training was him pulling you aside for a lecture on the importance of respecting everyone's time.
you hadn't found a single second to review the steps everyone was asked to practice beforehand. because of that, you were constantly a beat behind, and it was visibly painful to watch your own reflection looking so lost and clumsy in the mirrors.
and of course, we have to mention how anton looked so extra hot today.
anton. the member you have a stupid crush on.
he’s a long-time member of the dance troupe, friends with everyone, and undeniably attractive. you only joined a a few months ago, so you’re still part of the rookie lineup, adjusting to the rhythm of the group and trying to get closer to the older members.
that includes anton, who is notoriously intimidating and usually only sticks to his inner circle.
he’s friendly, sure, but he isn't the type to start a conversation; you’d have to approach him with something actually interesting for him to give you the time of day.
some of your co-dancers know about your silly crush, but they don’t even bother teasing you. they’ve long since established that everyone in the group has a crush on him at least once before they eventually give up. they call it a 'canon event.'
even anton is aware of it, and he has been verbal about his strict personal rule about never dating anyone within the troupe.
but it’s been months, and you’re still stuck on him.
you already had a bad start to your day, and he was unconsciously making it worse just by existing in your peripheral vision.
a ten-minute break was finally called. after you spent a few minutes frantically refining your footwork, coach called anton’s group up to run their choreography.
while you and your friend slumped down in the front, leaning against the cool glass of the mirrors to watch.
you couldn't stop staring. of course, that’s given for how attracted you are to him. he was wearing a thin black parka and a snapback pulled low, a combination that felt like a personal attack on your sanity.
you were basically ogling him at this point, which didn't help your reputation as the'annoying rookie who kept messing up the counts earlier.
the most frustrating part of being in the same room as anton is that he knows exactly how attractive he is.
he’s aware of his effect to other people.
or maybe to you only.
as they finished the choreo, some of the boys started messing around, comparing their muscles in the mirror. it was a ridiculous sight since half of them didn't even have visible gains and were just doing it for the bit.
as you and the other girls were laughing at their antics, anton slid into the fun. he lined up with the others, eyes catching his own reflection, and casually bunched his shirt up in his fist to show off his torso.
anton with toned, six-pack abs.
he had a smug, knowing look on his face as he let the fabric drop, laughing along with the boys who were snickering and clapping him on the back.
you froze. you forgot to breathe for a solid minute, convinced that if you died right now, the final seven minutes of your brain activity would just be a replay of that specific action he just did in front of you.
fuck. fuck. fuck. you just know the consequence of this would be so embarrassing.
practice started again, but you were completely gone. arms and feet aren’t even coordinating at all. it’s as if your locomotor skills just left your body for a whole hour.
you kept catching his eye in the mirror instead of focusing on your own hands, and it got so bad that coach finally snapped.
“go jog three laps, all the way to the 20th floor,” coach barked.
you had to admit, you needed the time out.
you needed to get away from the immediate proximity of anton, who was starting to look less like a crush and more like a distraction you couldn't afford.
you slipped into the fire exit and sighed. the studio was on the 15th floor, so five flights of stairs felt like a fair price to pay for a mental reboot. but as you started to jog, your mind went straight back to the way he moved during the set.
and also back to the antics he made at the mirror.
but shit, he danced with a kind of effortless, heavy control despite his tall figure.
anton’s movements were sharp but fluid, the beats were just following him. you could still see the way the light caught the sweat on his neck, and the way his parka shifted with every shoulder movement he did.
he was in his element, looking both casual and completely disciplined.
it was impossible to look away from him. really.
on your final lap, your lungs were already crying for help and your legs felt completely wobbly. coach probably wouldn't know you were sitting on the stairs just to catch your breath.
you were panting so hard you had to stare at the wall in front of you, eyes involuntarily closing as you tried to keep up with your own breathing.
then, a creak echoed from the heavy fire exit door.
anton, already changed into a black tank top and looking fresh without a single drop of sweat, gave you the impression that training had ended early. you just looked at him, having zero clue what brought him to the fire exit.
“is coach looking for me?” you stood up where you were, your back an inch from the wall.
anton stopped in front of you, leaning against the railing beside him. unexpectedly, he tossed a cold bottle toward you, which your reflexes caught quickly. his gaze remained fixed on you, a question mark already forming in your head.
he stepped closer, his presence making your legs feel extra wobbly.
fuck. he looks so good up close.
you tried to look away as he gently snatched the water bottle back from your hands to crack the seal. his biceps were visibly sculpted under the dim light of the cramped stairwell. you were staring at his arms, and he definitely noticed.
“you seem distracted,” he started. you looked up at him; he was looking down at you, hands relaxing at his sides.
you cleared your throat. “something’s just been on my mind lately.”
“hmm? tell me about it.” he relaxed his stance, looking away for a second before returning his focus to you. this time, he looked at you intensely, as if you’d done something to him.
you had to improvise. “you know, work. i had a bad shift yesterday. that’s all.”
his musky, woody scent was so apparent that your brain started wondering what expensive cologne he was wearing. you just wanted to pull him by his tank top and breathe him in.
“you seem distracted,” anton replied with a smirk.
you were already nervous, a cold shiver running through you despite the heat.
what the hell was happening? the fire exit felt so heavy with tension that the air was starting to get stiflingly hot.
suddenly, he released a chuckle that made the tension high and the atmosphere too thick.
“why are you even here?” you murmured in response, attempting to look back at him just as intensely.
instead, anton leaned in until your shoulders were pressed firmly against the brick wall, one of his hands coming up to rest right beside your head, effectively trapping you.
you tried so hard not to follow his movements so you can take a glance at his very obvious biceps.
holy shit. your lungs were going to collapse.
his voice dropped an octave. “is that why you couldn't keep your eyes off me? because you were thinking about work?”
you tried not to give an obvious reaction to what he just said, swallowing the lump in your throat.
he backed off for a bit, looked at the wall, and gave a fake nod. “okay, okay.”
his eyes never left yours. you fanned yourself with your hands, given how hot it was getting in the fire exit. all of a sudden, he deliberately pressed the cold, damp bottle against the side of your neck.
you gasped at the sudden shock of cold, your pulse thumping hard against the plastic.
“it’s hot, right?” he whispered, his smirk widening as he watched your reaction.
at that moment, your brain rewired. two could play this game, anton.
you just stared at his lips. anton noticed the shift in your gaze and stopped smirking. he raised an eyebrow at your sudden, composed expression.
he leaned down, his lips hovering just inches from your ear. “should i do something about it?”
once again, your eyes met his.
“you’re so confident,” you remarked as the air grew even stiller. your mind replaying again the antics he did earlier at the studio.
he was facing you again, his face still inches away from yours. both of you were watching each other’s features closely, ready to acknowledge the tension between you.
you moved your gaze from his eyes down to his lips, your hand voluntarily tilting his chin up with your thumb.
with your sudden, bold movement, anton couldn’t help but let out a surprised, puppy-like grin. he was turning pink, too.
you furrowed your brows in confusion.
you watched him as his grin faded into the kind of stare that made you want to just melt into the ground.
then, you fixed your posture, appearing as confident as he was. “tell me you want it too,” you whispered.
his other hand slowly snaked to your waist, eyes never leaving yours. the contact made you freeze in an instant.
“definitely,” he asserted. “more than you’d ever know.”
then do something, fuck. you wanted to voice that out loud.
you pushed him back with one hand, landing right on his chest.
instead of pulling away, he gently grabbed your hand with his own, pressing it harder against his heartbeat so you could feel how fast he was going, too.
“is that enough proof?” anton smirked, finally letting go of your hand.
his other hand never left your waist. worse, it started to stroke your side in a slow, agonizing motion.
every interaction in this god-forsaken fire exit felt like a ticking bomb.
the forgotten water bottle was already sweating against your fingers, the cold condensation making you even more aware of the heat radiating between you.
you finally found your voice and murmured, “are we gonna keep having a staring contest?”
“do something, anton,” you said firmly.
the challenge made him drop the smirk instantly, realizing you weren’t backing down.
shit. holy shit. your lungs were going to burst.
he leaned in until your noses were brushing, testing to see who would break first. just inches away from your lips, a new smirk formed on his.
he moved his hand from your waist to the back of your neck, his thumb tracing your jawline with a heavy, deliberate pressure.
i hope i’m dreaming, you thought. no. for fuck’s sake, this is real. anton kept his nose brushed against yours, his breath hitching as he murmured, “you asked for this, baby.”
in a heartbeat, the next thing you heard was the loud echo of the water bottle hitting the concrete floor. the second the bottle hit, anton didn’t give you another second to breathe before he devoured your mouth.
you took over instantly, your tongue tracing his bottom lip before deepening the kiss. his hand snaked back to your waist to pull you forward while his body slammed into yours, pinning you against the wall.
the kiss was messy and desperate, a testament to too much pent-up frustration and intensity.
you pulled him even closer by his tank top, then both of your hands roamed to his arms, feeling the hard curve of his muscles. the shock of your touch made him lose his composure completely.
you pulled away suddenly, breathless, as you felt just how large and flexed his biceps were.
anton whined at the sudden loss of contact.
you slowly rubbed the muscle, realizing he really had a sleeper build underneath the clothes he wore. “what kind of workout are you even doing?”
“it's just naturally big,” anton whispered, before catching your lips again. his hands were everywhere now.
the kiss continued, deeper and more deliberate, until the sound of muffled voices in the hallway made you freeze.
anton didn't stop. instead, he pressed his body fully onto yours and kissed you harder, his thumb pressing into your jaw to keep you focused only on him. the closer the contact, the harder you felt him down there. your effect on anton was very apparent already.
still, the risk of getting caught had finally gotten to you. you couldn't help the small whimper that escaped, a sound he caught and swallowed whole, making him growl into the kiss.
his grip on your waist tightened while your hands remained fixed on his sculpted arms.
you knew you wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about this, especially the way his tongue was currently claiming yours.
at this point, you were going to be a total nuisance at the next training session because you wouldn’t have a clue how to act around him. it was so bad.
“i need you,” his voice sounded completely wrecked.
anton seemed to be replaying everything that had led to this moment. so, he guided one of your hands under the hem of his tank top. you flinched as you felt his abs, tight and ridged under your palm.
suddenly, you pressed your hands against his stomach and shoved him, making both of you stumble back. it was hard not to close the gap again, not when the sight of him panting was right in front of you, his chest heaving as he stared you down.
everything about this moment was dizzying.
anton, on the other hand, looked like he was fighting every urge to just lunge forward and pull you back.
this fire exit was a terrible place for whatever this was. or whatever could be.
you walked past him to get some space and catch your breath. you were both a mess. hair ruffled, lips swollen, and skin glistening with a mix of sweat and heat.
faced with the sudden weight of reality, you looked down at the floor. “i have a crush on you, anton. i don't know if it was obvious already... but whatever just happened, we can forget about it if you didn’t like it.”
he sat down on the stairs, catching his breath as if he wasn't a trained dancer.
“how can i forget about that when i’m already thinking about how we’re gonna go back to that studio? it’s empty now. everyone already went home,” he admitted, his voice still rough.
anton slowly stood up, his movements forced you to look up at him as he neared you.
“i didn’t know how to act around you either, so i always played it cool. i acted like you weren't even there because i get so stiff and awkward when you’re close.”
you let out a breathy, nervous laugh, “shut up.” you refused to believe his confession.
anton responded, “i’m not joking.” a faint flush creeping up his neck that had nothing to do with the heat of the stairwell.
“sure,” you briefly returned, finally looking at him. he’s the one to walk past you this time, heading to the door.
your heart seemed to stop for a second when your eyes instantly noticed something on anton’s lower body.
“you say you’re stiff around me but you’re still hard right now.”
anton groaned, hiding his face in his hands for a second before turning his head back to you as he held the heavy door open.
you continued to tease him. “is it naturally big as well?”
anton can only respond by whining and asking you to stop. you skipped towards him while chuckling.
as the heavy door closed behind you, he looked up at you with a predatory grin.
slight angst but lots of slowburn. anton yearnermaxxing. mutual pining since the beginning. warning: suggestive near the end. DRYHUMPINGGGGGG only dw :P
5830 words. this was drafted as a listicle/headcanons, but i got away again so its all narrated like that... mian TOT/ hehe some parts were inspired by the first frost 😁 enjoy 💕
anton, the moment he grew fond of you, swore to himself that he would work harder than destiny. than the universe. than the whims of any god.
that man has been helplessly in love with you since day one. no one can change his mind.
anton is the most patient man to ever walk this earth.
he patiently waits for you when classes are finally over. you pace slower than him when walking together.
when you asked him to teach you some bass basics, and you were struggling, you never heard him hiss or groan in annoyance. it was new to you because you were used to hearing people complain when you were asking for nothing more than help.
anton is the gentlest soul. he was your classmate in high school, the quiet boy who was into music and sports. often carrying his cello and training bag, he would sometimes intentionally bump his things against your desk every morning just so you would notice him and greet him "good morning."
eventually, you became friends and bonded through silly conversations, trips to convenience stores, or random weekend study "dates."
by senior year, it was safe to say he was a close friend who obviously liked you. he wasn't even subtle, yet he remained remarkably nonchalant about it. (he didn't confess, but his actions were telling.)
anton never made you feel pressured to return his feelings. still, both of you stuck together like constant companions.
he was simply charming back then. he always accompanied you to the bus stop, a ten-minute walk from school.
being in love with you meant becoming a total loser for you. imagine him riding the bus, pretending to get off at a stop after yours just so he could linger with you a bit longer. in truth, he didn't even need transportation...he lived within walking distance of the school.
he noticed that you sometimes skipped lunch (to save money or sleep). so, he’d bring far too much food to share with you. he reasoned it as "bulking" for training whenever you asked why his meals were so proportionately large.
anton was always ecstatic whenever you asked him about music. whether it was an inquiry about instruments or what songs were trending, he’d geek out, genuinely pleased that you were interested in his world.
thus, he created a playlist of all his recommendations and shared it only with you. even his friends weren't allowed to listen to it; you were the only one with the link.
besides, he had a folder full of draft compositions, all inspired by you.
one time you mentioned liking a certain drink from the store, and the next thing you knew, it was a consistent sight on your desk every other day.
anton never stares directly at you for too long because he’s afraid his eyes will give him away.
instead, he became a master at watching you out of the corner of his eye. anton memorized the way you tie your hair or the specific sound your shoes make in the hallway.
but he's also incredibly attentive when you speak in class or tell him something you've discovered. you would become self-conscious because he would never break eye contact while you spoke.
anton swore he loved the idea of memorizing your features, yet he mastered the skill of grasping every word you yapped about despite being drowned in the beauty right in front of him.
often, he would look away instantly when he felt his nose burning with a pink flush.
you had to admit that your first love was memorable because it was anton.
...and you for anton.
as you grew older, it was a slow realization that you were just like anton—reserved and quiet. you shared so many interests and opinions, but the contrast was that you were too scared of love.
he was full of it, deserving and willing to give it all.
maybe he didn't deserve you. or rather, any part of your life that felt insecure when you let him in. his upbringing felt worlds apart from yours.
so, as romantic as it seemed, when anton confessed to you while the rain was pouring, you respectfully rejected him and bid him a final goodbye.
your world crushed as you saw his eyes, and how his expression showed he was trying so hard not to beg for answers.
"tell me you don't want me to leave, and i won't." it was hard to hear him, his soft voice clashing with the heavy rain. even if you tell him you don't want him to go, he is still fated to leave for his dreams.
of course, you didn't want anton to leave. he's the only person who sees through you, who genuinely cares for you, and totally understands you.
he was the only person you had.
but then again, your worlds were apart.
anton saw how you looked at him as if he were a stranger. you were the first to break eye contact, running away from him that night.
he stayed frozen there, standing in the middle of the park, drenched. all he could think about was you. he spent another thirty minutes alone in the rain, just in case you changed your mind and ran back.
when anton moved overseas to pursue his dream, you accepted the fact that your shared chapter had ended.
even though the only way you knew how to move forward with life was with him.
during college, you decided to distance yourself from everyone and start a new life. part of that meant leaving someone behind who wasn't there anymore.
anton, on the other side of the world, never stopped thinking about you. he tried asking your mutual friends how you were, but no information ever came back to him.
on your birthday, anton flew recklessly back home (without his parents' knowledge) just to gamble on the chance of seeing you after a year apart.
every year, he typed a "happy birthday" to your old number. he would stare at the blinking cursor, never moving past the drafted text.
anton usually celebrated your birthday in total silence, perhaps just by buying your favorite snack and eating it alone.
he wanted to respect your peace. he knew you so well. you had many reasons to be distant and alter your life, and he wished he could help you lessen the burden. so, showing up suddenly didn't feel right.
but a plane has already brought him back home.
instead, he waited at a cafe near your university, hidden in a hoodie and mask.
he had no idea whether you would even walk by or go to that cafe.
finally, after three hours of hoping and inhaling iced americanos, the bell chimed. there you were—the person he loved so much, despite the painful silence between you.
you had changed, and it was physically visible. he couldn't pinpoint if it was for better or worse, but he wouldn't dare bother you.
you ordered an iced latte and the cheapest cake the cafe had. for a student on a budget, it was enough.
anton devised a simple plan: buy a whole cake of your favorite flavor, ask the server to hand it to you with some made-up excuse, and hurry back to the airport.
you were surprised that day by a "lucky birthday promo." you went back to your dorm happily with a box of strawberry shortcake you had been eyeing for weeks.
the universe had finally favored you. from then on, you promised yourself you'd be a frequent customer there until you graduate.
little did you know...
all thanks to the guy who flew back overseas that night, uncaring of the consequences. at least he knew you were well.
you stopped listening to his playlists. you didn't want to be reminded. but the moment you found out he was still consistently adding new songs, you found yourself saving them again.
anton never stopped adding music to that old playlist he exclusively shared with you. he wasn't sure if you were listening, but the chances were never zero. for years, he added songs he wanted you to hear—songs that resonated with his longing.
it was still you. it was always you for anton.
for his junior recital, titled "Saudade," anton performed pieces by his assigned composer. he also finally completed the drafts he started in high school—the ones you saw only in the hidden music room. the ones you gave suggestions for, despite knowing nothing about the musical notes. the ones you teased him about dedicating to you.
on a random day, you decided to check how he was doing. you jumped from site to site, glad to see him thriving.
you stumbled upon his soundcloud. a three-minute song titled "saudade" was there. you tried to stay composed until you heard a familiar giggle fading softly after the bridge.
anton had sampled your giggle from that silly high school video of the two of you doing dinosaur impressions.
oh.
anton remembers you more than he ever truly knew you.
guess who flew back just to stop by your university on graduation day?
anton was also graduating in two days. he thought, time zones be damned.
he didn't ask if outsiders were allowed. he just roamed outside the venue until the ceremony ended. he spotted you from afar, taking photos with friends.
he wanted to give you flowers, but he didn't know how. so, he settled for the contentment of seeing you happy.
he wore a white long-sleeve shirt that fit his figure perfectly. he blended into the crowd, though people whispered about how handsome he was as they passed.
coincidentally, you saw a familiar face in the sea of robes. your gut told you it was him, but by the time you pushed through the crowd, he was gone.
maybe you were daydreaming.
you swore it was anton. but there was no way he’d fly back just for this. he probably forgot about you already.
anton focused on his career during those years, becoming successful immediately after graduating. he thought that if he ever ran into you again, he wanted to be "worthy" of standing beside you.
months later, when a friend invited you to a reunion at a new family restaurant, you never expected anton to be there.
and god. locking eyes with anton again—it was a struggle to convince yourself that this was reality.
you were mesmerized by how well he had aged. he looked intimidating, secure, and grown.
there was no way a man like this was still single.
there was no way anton would ever care about you like he used to.
when you finally crossed paths, anton’s reserved nature acted as a shield for the fact that he was actually shaking inside. his teenage self was screaming internally. it brought him back to the memory of you looking so dangerously pretty during the senior ball.
you had a way of making him feel incredibly uneasy, almost as if a million butterflies were fluttering in his stomach whenever you were around.
he was more nervous than he’d been at any recital.
anton wanted to see if you remembered him. you didn't react when he arrived at the table. it was awkward; you were sitting right across from him. people started to ask why you weren't close anymore.
"anton, here's the menu," you spoke quietly, handing it to him. the unexpected exchange went completely unnoticed by the rest of the table, oblivious to the tension building in the air.
as he looked across the room, he felt as if time had come to a standstill in that fleeting moment. everyone's chatter faded into a distant murmur, replaced by the pounding of his heart in his ears.
it was as if the world outside had dissolved, leaving only him and the source of his sudden, eager focus, enveloping him in a bead of heightened awareness.
when the group laughed at a story, anton still had the habit of not looking at the one telling the story. instead, he looked at you.
he just wanted to see if you were laughing, or if you felt left out. your reaction was the only one that mattered.
later, he volunteered to drive friends home, and you were assigned to his car along with two classmates.
you discovered that he was residing in your building, sharing an apartment with your best friend's brother. they were living together temporarily while he searched for a place of his own, creating an unexpected connection just down the hall.
a true coincidence. destiny had favored him this time.
"unlucky" for you, you had to sit in the passenger seat.
anton was quick to notice you shivering and adjusted the temperature without a word.
when he overheard you were sick, he dropped a bag of supplies at your door. he texted, "i had extras, thought you might need them," even though the receipt showed he bought them five minutes prior.
"it's been five years. i'm sure he has moved on," you told your best friend.
moved on?
anton is immovable when it comes to you.
even now, he drinks the tea you liked and reads the niche authors you mentioned once in passing.
in the years apart, anton found ways to keep you in his life without you being there.
it wasn't obsession; it was just that those things were the only physical tethers he had left.
with his gentle nature, his yearning was physically painful to witness—if only you could see it. he was constantly fighting the urge to reach out.
once, he was already in the elevator when the doors reopened to find you aggressively pressing the buttons, panting. you hurried inside, desperate for the doors to close.
you leaned heavily against the cool, glass wall, your heart racing as the weight of your emotions felt almost tangible as you tried to gather yourself.
when you finally lifted your gaze, there stood anton beside you, his presence steady and reassuring in the midst of your turmoil.
you fixed your posture and sniffed, looking at him with the same eyes that had cried in the rain years ago.
the air felt tight. anton was so surprised that he couldn't find the words to ask what happened.
in a millisecond, you found yourself buried in his chest, arms latched around his back as if anchoring yourself to him. a wave of emotion surged through you, and soft sobs escaped your lips, muffled against the fabric of his shirt.
the world around you faded as you lost yourself in the comfort of his embrace, finding solace in the rhythm of his heartbeat echoing against you.
anton wanted to hug you back so badly it hurt, but he was terrified of overstepping. he let you clutch his shirt, his hands clenched at his sides, fighting the urge to hold you.
anton used to be the calmest person to hold you.
the elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, jarring you from your thoughts and pulling you back to the present moment.
“i’m so sorry,” you stammered, your breath still quickened by the adrenaline. “a drunk man was... chasing me. i got so scared.”
with a deep, apologetic bow, you rushed out of the elevator, eager to put distance between yourself and the unsettling encounter.
you enjoyed reconnecting during hangouts at anton and sungchan's place with your best friend, yuha, and you occasionally bumped into him around the building, sharing small talk.
yuha, the typical best friend that she is, always insists you come to his brother's place so you can see anton.
after one busy week, you finally decided to go for a grocery run. you normally went with sungchan, but out of courtesy, you had to ask anton as well.
"oh. sungchan decided to just sleep and let me come with you," he awkwardly hissed.
when in fact, he actually pushed sungchan before leaving their unit.
the idea of shopping together felt casual yet friendly, an opportunity to bond over shared experiences as neighbors.
while strolling the aisles, your shoulders brushed as you reached for the same item. he went completely still. he didn't pull away. for a loser like him, he savored that half-second of contact like it was oxygen.
you tried to hide a smile when your hands grazed while grabbing a pastry. "hey. look, it's your favorite," he remarked.
he still had the same effect on you.
and he still had the same foolish heart for you.
just as anton memorized your features, he could recognize the sound of your heart the moment you entered a room.
when he spotted you talking to the same mean relative who had mistreated you since high school, he saw the tension in your jaw and the way your eyes lost their spark.
he approached the apartment security with firmness, requesting their assistance in drawing away the intruders from the premises.
after a tense wait at his car, he felt a wave of relief wash over him when the security personnel finally took matters into their hands.
you were so thankful and pleased to hear the admin's mention of the possibility of blacklisting your relative, ensuring they wouldn’t trouble you on the premises again.
anton doesn't just like you—he studies you well.
he leaves for work at the same time as you, so you often meet in the lobby. through those shared encounters, anton was content with the simple "good mornings" you exchanged.
eventually, he found the courage to ask if you needed a ride.
anton was a liar. he would drive thirty minutes out of his way just to spend more time with you in the quiet of his car, where the world felt small, and it was just the two of you and the hum of the engine.
still a loser in love. you never knew he was lying about his workplace location.
shared rides became a space for catching up, until the atmosphere no longer felt thick or uncomfortable.
anton is usually composed, but after a few drinks at a classmate's engagement dinner, his walls thinned.
he was honest.
anton leaned his head back, eyes half-closed, watching you across the table with a look of such raw longing it made your breath hitch. he whispered, "i miss you," and then immediately looked away, blushing.
that didn't exactly help you sleep that night.
just like several years ago, anton became a constant in your life again.
he had a hectic day on your birthday, but rushed to your unit an hour before the day ended. luckily, you were awake.
you were surprised to see him holding the same cake brand you received "for free" back in college.
you both stood there for a moment, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering tension. a soft smile crept across your face, slowly thawing the uneasiness between you. "i... i wanted to give you this," he said, breathless, his eyes flickering with a mix of excitement and worry.
you felt a rush of warmth as you stepped aside, inviting him into your space.
soon, you found yourself cozily settled on the couch next to him, the lights spread around a warm glow in the room. anton began to sing the softest version of "happy birthday," his voice still a gentle caress that wrapped around you like a comforting blanket.
as you swayed the cake back and forth, the flickering candle casting playful shadows on your face, a sense of bliss surged through you.
with a deep breath, you closed your eyes to make a wish, then you blew out the candle in one breath.
anton, captivated by the scene unfolding before him. the view in front of him felt surreal.
all the waiting, all the years. it was clear that you were truly worth every single moment.
"what did you wish for?" anton asked as he sliced a piece for you.
"hmm. it's a secret."
he handed you the plate and smiled. "how can i make that wish happen if you won't tell me?"
one evening after his jog, he saw you with someone else in the lobby.
you were grinning, holding a box of chicken tenders from that guy (who held the elevator open for two minutes, uncaring of the sensor).
anton became incredibly polite, but his eyes went cold.
it was funny; you realized you knew him too well. the way he gripped his phone and how his voice dropped an octave.
"not the best chicken tenders," he broke the silence. you looked at him, amused. "very, very overcooked."
"too salty. if you got the yangnyeom flavor, it tastes like shi—"
you laughed. "actually, these are for sungchan. he asked me to pick them up for him. you can take them home."
right. wait, what? sungchan? my roommate? anton thought. stupid jealousy.
you handed him the bag. he was embarrassed, but his nonchalant facade held up.
before stepping off at your floor, you chuckled. "jealous over a delivery guy? tsk." the doors closed on his flustered face.
anton will mention tiny details—a specific keychain or a song you hummed once. you realized he was always paying attention, even when he seemed indifferent.
anton resigned himself to the idea that you might not choose him, so he settled for being the person you can always fall back on.
just like the old days. he remembered using family connections to get you scholarships, helping you confront your deadbeat parents, or gathering sign-ups for your part-time job. he even secretly paid classmates to buy the baked goods you sold. he even had revenge on those guys from the other class who made fun of you once.
even now, you don't know the half of his hidden efforts.
anton was the only person who truly treated you well.
once, you mentioned your laptop was dying, and you panicked over work files.
days later, he brought a giant box to your door. "you can use this for now. it's my extra."
before you could refuse: "it's not brand new." (it was.) "i didn't buy it." (he did.) you accepted it out of necessity, promising to pay him back.
"no need. use it however you want."
he can provide for you more than just the problems that need fixing, more than the convenience you wanted. definitely, he will provide for you however he wishes.
you also had a fair share of moments that you 'yearned' for him.
you find out through sungchan that anton also goes to your building's gym. therefore, that motivated you to become a 'gym person'.
suddenly, you're there every morning at 6:00 am or every saturday night at 9:00 pm.
you definitely had no idea how to use the specific machines near you.
"sungchan's the one who invited me," you boasted to anton, who was only wearing a tank top with his snapback backwards. damn it.
"i don't see a sungchan here every time i come, yet you’re here," anton smirked, almost walking past you. he paused and added, "sungchan trains on a different day. you might want to check on that."
one time, in all this pretentiousness, you were "cooling down" on a mat, but really, you’re just watching him do pull-ups in the mirror.
you started to admire the way the view of his broad shoulders and arms move when suddenly, his eyes met yours through the mirror.
instead of looking away, he holds the gaze while doing one more slow, effortless rep.
you were so flustered that you had to break eye contact right away and move somewhere you can't see him. when did he even get so hot?
sungchan had invited you over for a group dinner, excited to host after yuha had unexpectedly dropped by their place earlier that day.
to the siblings’ surprise, anton dedicated three hours to deep-cleaning the apartment.
once he finished tidying up, he rushed to take a shower, but not before he was left with the crucial part of picking the perfect outfit and perfume.
"anton, come out of the bathroom when i say, uhm… just a heads-up, the floor isn’t dry yet. i had to mop it again!" sungchan called out with a lie.
"okay!" anton’s cheerfully replied, unaware of the scheme that sungchan had. he invited you earlier than the actual dinner time, eager for a little fun at both of you and anton’s expense.
"you can come out now!" sungchan announced, barely able to contain his excitement.
when you stepped into the apartment, you were greeted by the sight of a shirtless anton, clad only in his denim shorts, who had just come out of the bathroom.
water droplets glistened on his skin, and he looked momentarily startled at your sudden appearance.
“i’m sorry! i wasn’t looking!” you covered your eyes in an instant. the shirtless guy was already tomato red.
“yes, you were~” sungchan sung while moving across the kitchen. his laughter threatened to erupt as he watched the scene unfold, a devious grin spreading across his face with the scenario he had orchestrated.
one quiet night, you stopped in your tracks while walking back from the convenience store. "why are you so nice to me?"
this stirred something in him. he finally found the courage to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. his fingertips trembled—as if his existence was a ticking bomb.
anton felt defeated by the sudden question. he looked at his shoes, then back into your eyes with an intense, careful gaze. "i've longed for you for all the years i had you, and all the years i could only remember you. i'm clinging to the hope that you'd eventually look at me and see someone you could love."
he sighed. "guess i was so nice to you."
anton doesn't look away anymore. he looks at you with a heavy, grounded stare, full of yearning that he no longer tries to mask.
as you looked back at him, you realized your own feelings had never truly faded. you were certain this time: you were finally ready to let him in.
the following night, a heavy, hesitant knock sounds at your door.
it was anton, he’s leaning against the doorframe, looking exhausted. the memory of his confession from the previous night never stopped replaying in your head. it's worse now that he's actually in front of you.
his crisp black button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows didn't help your current state.
"i left my keys on the kitchen when i rushed this morning. sungchan is out. sooooo, can i stay here for a bit?"
your pulse thrumming in your ears. "sure, chanyo- anton. come in."
the atmosphere in your apartment shifts instantly. "i'll get you a blanket." you said, in attempt of escaping his presence.
"let's talk about last night." he walks toward you, stopping just inches away.
you try to back away, but you almost hit the wall next to you.
he places a hand on either side of you, effectively trapping you in his personal space. "please?" he pleaded.
anton was so close to your level. you can feel your chest ripping out any moment, you avoid his gaze as you can feel his eyes memorizing your face.
"i don't have anything to say to you," you murmured. in response, anton’s jaw tenses.
he looks down at your lips, "you sure?" you looked away and nodded.
you gazed at him once more, a wave of longing washing over you. anton leaned in closer, his warm breath grazing your skin as his nose delicately brushed against yours.
he felt a shiver run through him, every nerve ending alive with anticipation and desire. "you're a loser, anton." you murmured while his lips were just inches away from yours.
"i know." he says, a faint smirk appearing before he finally loses his composure. your thoughts surrendered to the following actions you made.
you don't say a word. you just reach up and clutch his sleeves. when you finally kissed him, it started gentle and innocent, a reminder of how your love started.
finally, he was able to relax his clenched fists at your side. he pulls back just an inch, looks at you, and kisses you again with ferocity. you pulled him closer as the kiss started getting desperate.
just moments after, you were both back on the couch. his hands, which usually stay strictly at his sides to avoid 'overstepping', are suddenly everywhere.
anton tilted your head back to deepen the angle of the kiss. he backs toward the couch, and you follow down instantly to straddle his lap. "now i understand why you didn't want to talk." anton mutters against your jaw, his breath hitching. you can feel his smirk form.
you lean down to kiss the sensitive hollow near his temple that smells like his perfume that you like. you pull away as you notice something. "you have a tattoo here?"
he pecks your lips before responding, "mhm." he fixed a strand of your hair and pulled your face down softly again for a longer, passionate kiss.
a low, jagged moan vibrates in his throat when you wrap your arms around his neck.
just a mess for each other. years of pining and yearning had led to this moment.
you pulled away to breathe. he instantly helped you adjust your weight on his lap, both hands were on your sides.
"tell me this isn't your first kiss, anton." you bit your smile. you are a hundred percent convinced he kissed other people back in new york.
anton's head found your shoulder, his shyness evident in the way he hid his face to you. "it is." his voice was barely above a whisper.
a skeptical smile spread across your face as you squeezed your eyes shut, unable to fully process the moment. no way.
"so, you're saying that-"
"yes. i waited years for this exact moment. so please, baby, let's continue where we left off." he rubbed the sides of your waist softly, in motions fueled by familiarity and desperation.
you chuckle. it was also your first, but for a guy who's hot and out of anyone's league like him, you still can't believe he waited years for a kiss, as if he was so sure this would happen soon.
every time your hips move against his thighs, anton's breath hitches, and your fingers dig into the muscles of his shoulders.
his hands slide up from your waist, a low growl escapes his throat, coming from a sound of pure, agonizing relief.
anton started to internally suffer the moment he felt you grind your hips down into his in a slow, torturous rhythm. you can feel the hardness of him through his jeans. you smirk during the kiss, as you thought to yourself that he had been holding back far too much. "you're hard."
"kiss my tattoo again and it'll grow bigger." he snickered.
"shut up."
he then started planting desperate kisses on your neck, resulting in him learning your weakest spot. then, he gasps against the sensitive skin of your shoulder, his teeth grazing your collarbone.
this time, you were the one physically trembling now at the contact. you gasp his name, while tossing your head back.
anton's lips were back on yours upon the gasp of his name. the friction beneath both of you became a blur of heat and denim.
he hooks his hands under your thighs, pulling you even tighter and closer on his crotch, ensuring you can feel him. when you grind down on him in the perfectly aligned position, he lets out a jagged breath, "baby, please."
his self-restraint snapped. your shirt bunches up, and his hands slide underneath, his palms hot against your skin as his thumbs start to trace the underside of your chest. you moan at the sudden contact you felt next, and you were sure he smirked in between the ongoing kiss.
the friction was tortorous. your fingers moved to tangle in his hair, pulling his head to keep his mouth on yours.
then, it was time again to breathe. you needed something beyond this. when he finally met your eyes again, you sheepishly buried your face in the crook of his neck, while his breathing came in ragged. "i waited for you," you mumbled.
"i love you. so very much." anton gently tilted your chin up with his finger, his gaze filled with warmth.
"should i say it back now, or should i wait for a more appropriate moment?" you teased playfully, giving his cute, big nose a gentle boop.
"appropriate can wait, i suppose," he replied with a mischievous smile, and in a swift motion, he unbuttoned his shirt.
the man who swore to work harder than destiny has finally won.
when anton moved into his new apartment, the extra room caught your attention. it looked more than just a typical guest room. it was a room that had soft lighting from the window, with a view of the city, and a thought that reminded you of the type of bedroom you once mentioned wanting.
“this place looks like a jackpot for you,” you said.
"you like it here?" anton asked in confidence, making you look at him in confusion. "i mean, yes. it is a jackpot. i think i made the right choice."
more than the plans he had for himself that included you, he also has curated a life that had a permanent, person-shaped hole in it, trusting that eventually, you’d find your way back to fill it.
you definitely liked it there, and anton was certain of that. so, he has yet to figure out how to tell you that it was actually your room in his own place.
finally, spring came.
“happy birthday, chanyoung,” you murmured, the soft glow of the candle illuminating his face, and suddenly his new apartment was enveloped in a tranquil stillness because of this moment.
the dim lights created a cozy atmosphere that wrapped around both of you like a comforting embrace. you watched your boyfriend close his eyes and take his time before blowing out the flame.
"what did you wish for?"
he looked at you for a solid minute. "my wish already came true."
both of you beamed. he finally leaned in to hold you. "i'm not going anywhere this time." he kissed the top of your head. anton made a quiet pledge to himself at that moment that he would continue loving you like it was breathing.
it had been ten years. through high school, college, and adulthood, anton had waited. he didn't just believe in luck or coincidence. he believed more in the stubborn force of his own devotion.
and he would gladly do it all again in the next life, if it meant finding you over and over.
a love that once ended in the quiet passing of autumn had finally bloomed again in the spring.
sfw! uni setting. organic encounter at a bar. cw: drinking/partying. notes: i think i stretched this too much for a oneshot lol. not proofread again bcos i just wanted to post something while tumblr is banned here >_< leave a heart if u enjoy tysm !!! ❤️🩹 2598 words
after a stressful finals week—the most grueling one yet, according to your entire friend group, everyone decided to blow off steam at this one famous small bar near the university.
however, you don't feel like going as you need to get some sleep. you haven't slept since yesterday, and having powered through a marathon of a final exam and a capstone presentation. you wanted sleep more than anything else.
but everyone was going, and you're already standing in the middle of a sea of dancing bodies in a cramped, box-like bar with flickering red lights.
your friends had already polished off two fishbowls, and despite your exhaustion, you found yourself leaning into the chaos. still, your legs were heavy from standing, and you kept giggling along with the group while occasionally bumping into unfamiliar bodies. you envy the reserved tables at the far corner of this tiny bar.
when a girl was pulled away from a stool next to you by some guy, you didn't hesitate to claim it. "hey, shotaro is inviting us to hop on a different bar." your friend whispered, suggesting also it was the bar nearby. cons: there are more locals than students.
you shook your head, "the set's better here." pouting towards where the dj was. your friend nooded in agreement.
then, you were pulled you out from the stool as the dj started to hype the crowd. she even rushingly told the bartender for a fishbowl again before moving towards where the fun was.
trying to navigate back to the rest of the group, you collided with a solid figure. he moved with a swift, fluid motion to face you. the guy just slightly bowed his head, as seen from your blurry peripheral vision. you squinted your eyes, already tipsy and polite that you also mirrored his apologetic gesture.
after fifteen minutes of solid dancing to the set, your friends rushed back to the counter to reclaim the fishbowl that's almost forgotten.
they cheered as the third bowl of the night was slid across the wood. you claimed the green straw—the one with the little curl at the top. everyone leaned in at once, all your heads were panning down and sipping on the bowl, making you almost choke on the shared drink.
the guy to your left, sitting calmly on a stool and eating a full rice meal. seriously? still, he got the cue. he handed you a stack of tissues from the dispenser near his plate.
your tipsy state looked down on his plate as you accepted the tissues. you knitted your brows, not in judgment, but in pure, unadulterated confusion.
"oh. i'm drinking. i just need to eat first." he said defensively, noticing your stare. he was clearly in the middle of a mouthful, but still sounded composed.
then, you looked up to where the voice came from. is it the alcohol or he looks actually majestic?
his hair was messy, fluffy to be exact, under that quirky cap he was wearing. his shoulders were incredibly broad, filling out his dark long sleeve in a way that made you lose your train of thought. he looked grounded, calm, and—honestly—way too handsome to be tucked away in a corner of a bar.
at least, he looked friendlier than the guys who shared glances with you tonight. you gave him a friendly, slightly dazed smile and turned back to your friends, who were still preoccupied with the maroon liquid in the bowl.
you knew right then you're going to think of him the rest of night.
"what was that?" your friend asked you, eyeing him.
"he's hot," your other friend added bluntly. you just scoffed.
you grabbed your straw again. "ask for his insta then."
"oh. i will. for you." she smirked, nudging you. "i saw how he looked at you until you walked back here."
you rolled your eyes as you take a long sip. "a guy with a face like that is definitely not single."
"did you even see a girl next to him, though?" your friend countered, giving a playful shrug of her shoulder.
you didn't respond anymore, but deep down, you were hoping. he just looked so out of league for a place like this.
anton definitely didn't want to be here.
it was a busy bar on the least places he'd want to be stuck in. he was naturally more of a chill drinker. he'd prefer to sit down in a quieter setting with a cold glass of beer in hand partnered with deep conversations about anything.
but tonight, he was dragged by his teammates and not his close friends. he had no choice and after protesting multiple times, he’d eventually given in.
"inconvenience is the cost of community," one of his teammates joked before shoving anton to the crowd near the dj.
it was during that push into the fray that he felt someone thud against his back. he turned quickly, and found you who looked like floating in a dream state while clinging to your friend.
you were small compared to him, squinting up at him with a dazed expression. he bowed his head instinctively as a silent apology. your tipsy yet polite state mirrored his gesture. as you disappeared back into the crowd, anton found his eyes trailing after you. thanks to his tall figure, he can easily spot you headbobbing with your friends through the red haze.
anton found himself watching you longer than he intended.
he hasn't drunk anything yet, nor did a pre-game in his dorm. still, at places like this, anton was disciplined. when he saw a stool open up at the counter, he moved for it immediately. ordering a rice meal was definitely normal, and he needed it before fueling any kind of alcohol in his system.
anton was halfway through his meal when he felt a presence to his left. it was you again. you were leaning in with a group, all huddled over the bar's infamous fishbowl like it was a drinking fountain. when you started coughing, he automatically just grabbed the tissue dispenser near his plate because you were definitely looking around for it as you fight for your life.
when you grabbed the tissues from his offering hand, he noticed that you were looking at his plate with a comical confusion that he felt the need to explain himself. "oh. i'm drinking. i just need to eat first," he mumbled through a bite of food.
when you finally looked up at him, anton felt a weird skip in his heart. you gave him this small, friendly smile, enough to cause his world to slightly stop from spinning.
he can only watch your back face to your friends once again, his fork hovering mid-air unnoticed.
the night had just started. one of your friends had finally received her grades for a major subject during that exact moment, and in her excitement, she decided to treat the entire group to two rounds of tequila shots.
after throwing those shots back raw, the bar started to feel suffocatingly hot. the tequila hit you like a freight train.
you planted a drunk kiss on your friend’s cheek, murmuring that you were heading outside to breathe. your head was also starting to throb to the consequence of mindlessly taking those shots.
stumbling slightly you head toward the small exit for a breath of air. the outside dining area a contrast to the happenings inside. it was filled with people calmly drinking to avoid the party, some were smoking, and a few waiting at the sidewalk.
that’s when you saw him again. you find the same guy from earlier leaning against the brick wall, cap pulled low. he seems like he's acting so mysterious but also looks like he's finally enjoying the quiet.
you sank down onto the low stairs, dropping your head into your hands. good lord, tomorrow’s hangover is going to be biblical.
as you massage your forehead, you felt a gaze burning into your side, so you looked up. you lock eyes with the same guy.
you weren't sure if you were drunk to the very brim of your existence or if he was actually walking towards you.
he actually sat down next to you. "too much?" he asks, gesturing to the muffled bass thumping through the walls.
you peeked at him through your fingers. "you're too much close to me right now."
he instinctively recoiled himself. "sorry, i- i didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. i noticed you were-"
his stammering was cut off by your sudden chuckle. "it's fine," then you introduced yourself.
"oh. right. okay. hello, i'm anton. from the swimming team." he slowly scratched his nape. you found it adorable that he has a shy, meeping smile.
"you're not enjoying the night, anton?" you started.
"i actually am. just not a fan of this kind of fun today."
you let out a tiny laugh to what he just said. "well, your cap says lonely boy."
"i mean, it is fun," anton countered softly. "but i get overstimulated easily. i just ran out of social battery." you noticed his voice was just naturally soft-spoken, as your 7th sense trying to drown out the noise from the walls to hear him better.
still, you smiled at him, not giving a damn about your headache.
"i don't want to overstep, but you look a little pale. i mean...not that you don't look good! you do but... yeah." anton stammered until he saw you playfully rolling your eyes.
you end up talking for thirty minutes in the cool air, anton would occasionally wave his palms around to clear the air whenever smoke drifted near you. you both reached the conclusion that you actually hated the party scene and only showed up for your friends.
you were almost sober from all the topics and giggles you have shared with anton. then, you excused yourself signaling that you needed to go back inside. anton looked up at you, but then he stood up even quicker than you did, moving instinctively to assist you.
"do you want me to walk you in? it's pretty rowdy by the door," he asked, voiced laced with consent. your friends are definitely going to kill you. or maybe his situationship (if he has one) will kill you.
"only if you're okay with that." you didn't give him any other signs of responses other than letting him, and went inside.
still, anton wanted to check on you and make sure you made it safely to the restroom on the far side of the bar.
when you were finally done, anton was waiting outside the archway to where the restroom leads. "hey. come with me." and gently guided you through the crowd toward the counter, helping you onto the stool like the gentleman you'd figured he was.
anton handed you a glass of water. you drank it while looking at him softly. he was also watching you, but the longer the silence stretched, the more he had to look away, a faint blush creeping up.
he stood beside you, his long arms resting at the counter, as he leaned down a few inches to be closer to your level.
"feeling better?" anton whispered, the quirk of his lips suggesting he was enjoying your company.
anton noticed you mirrored his smile as you nod in response. "the swimming team might be missing their homeboy though."
he shrugged, not knowing what to say. "i think i'm exactly where i'm supposed to be."
you looked at him, his eyes already crinkling. despite the dark red lights smothering the room, you could see how round and brown his eyes were. there was so much warmth in the shared silence, even in the state of being enveloped by all kinds of noise.
for the first time since anton had been dragged out of his dorm, he wasn't looking at his watch to calculate how many hours of sleep he’d get before the 5 am training.
"you're staring too much," you teased, a playful, sleepy tilt to your head. you're not even sure if you were really lucky to be in this state with a man looking like this.
his small, lopsided smile showed up. "i am actually just staring back." and raised his eyebrows.
"done." you rested the empty glass on the counter, prompting anton to finally relax his posture.
anton felt a sudden heat rush to his ears, and he was thankful for the dim lighting. he was already overthinking the end of the night. his teammates were likely looking for him, and your friends were probably wondering where you’d disappeared to as well.
he wasn't usually the type to initiate anything, but something about the way you'd laughed and observed your surroundings made his chest tighten. he wasn't going to let this encounter become just another distant memory.
you began looking around for any sign of your friends, your fingers gripping the edge of the stool for support. his arm brushed yours on the counter, and you suddenly felt a wave of awkwardness, unsure of how to proceed. you knew you'd regret it the moment you walked out that door if you just left things like this.
you felt him shift beside you. "hey," he said, his voice dropping an octave to cut through a sudden surge in the music. "i’m probably going to have to find my team soon."
you swore your heart froze for a second as he paused. "but i'd really like to get to know you more," he continued. "maybe i could hear more about why you hate that one professor? mostly because i have him next semester. a conversation over coffee sounds nice. would that be okay?"
you stared at him for a few seconds before blurting out a chuckle. "you didn't have to say all of that, anton. you could've just asked for my socials. i wouldn't have hesitated."
anton looked visibly relieved. after you both exchanged handles, you finally spotted your friends waving from a distance.
"it was nice meeting you," anton said, helping you steady yourself as you stood up.
"likewise," you responded, looking up at him with a sweet, tired smile. anton could've sworn his knees weakened at the sight of you.
"tell me when you get home later. if you’re still capable of messaging, that is," he added. he clearly didn't want the night to end, but anton really did need to track down his teammates before they left without him.
"oh, i will. i need to send this gentleman a goodnight text before he has a chance to forget about me," you teased.
anton let out a laugh, his eyes crinkling once again. in the hazy red light, he looked perfect. sooooo perfect.
just as you were about to turn away, anton reached up and pulled the quirky cap from his head. before you could protest, he tucked your messy hair behind your ear and placed the cap firmly on your head, tilting the brim down.
"keep it," he said, his voice low and playful. "now you have a reason to see me again."
you adjusted the cap, the scent of his perfume hitting you instantly. "is this your way of marking your territory, lonely boy?"
"maybe," he grinned, stepping back into the crowd.
you couldn't imagine what would have happened if you had actually refused to come tonight. or if you decided to leave the confines of these four walls just to bar-hop. because then, you never would have had the chance of meeting anton.
all i know is we said hello, and your eyes look like coming home
what's like to be in a non-committal flirtationship with anton?
just a random stream of consciousness at 2am haha enjoyyy 🫨 not an smau !
.
you met anton on a dating app. you weren't looking for anything in particular, and it turns out he was also non-committal. he was just bored during in one of his travels and wanted to talk to someone.
maybe it was also time to see what the dating app scene was all about.
well, once you saw his photos and instagram feed, you started to doubt your own "no strings attached" rule— jk! but who knows...
you got along well with anton. you guys would talk about random topics occasionally at first, until a week later, you found yourself holding your phone most of the time and secretly giggling at his messages.
anton was a genuinely nice guy. very outgoing and forward. you could sense he was sincere and you vibed well with him, so there was never a dull moment. for anton, the feeling was mutual. he was interested in you, despite sharing the same sentiment of not wanting to commit. just talking, flirting, and sometimes calling you pet names.
you’re always caught off guard when he drops those stupid pet names. there was no reason for him to do it, but again, stupid flirting setup too.
anton: baby otw home
anton: hru
you: ???
you've never met him and meeting up was never even raised in your conversations. literally, the both of you are just enjoying this online flirting setup, established by two people seemingly allergic to commitment.
anton: i miss you babyyyy
anton: saw a matcha pop-up earlier and thought of you :)
sometimes when you're not in the mood to reply and you're just mindlessly scrolling through reels, his name pops up on the top of your screen immediately. this was a scenario that you're already used to by the third week of your flirtationship. or whatever people call it.
[iloveswimmingsomuch]: yo
[iloveswimmingsomuch]: reply to meeeee
[iloveswimmingsomuch]: baby :(
[iloveswimmingsomuch]: r u ignoring me
[you]: im too lazy to type zzzz
[iloveswimmingsomuch]: ok
[iloveswimmingsomuch]: ill call then
[you]: go aheadd im watching reels im alr sleepy
[iloveswimmingsomuch]: aw man
[iloveswimmingsomuch]: i made a mix
the brainrot content you were watching is interrupted by a sudden ring. you answer, his face lighting up as he hears the sound of your groggy 'hello.'
"babeee, i can't see your pretty face." he looks at the screen, adjusting his lampshade towards the camera so the light might catch your face.
"ouch. i'm sleepy already, but i'd love to listen to your mixes."
most of the time, it's the random updates he sends that make you feel a tiny bit of something. oftentimes, those messages come with a photo of him. you have been honest at yourself, anton was really likeable and a hot guy. unfortunately, for the both of you, no one dares to move forward beyond whatever this is. yet both of you still wants it.
anton: long flight
anton: ill message you in a few hours babee
anton: heyy reply bacj
anton: back***!!!
you: safe skies :p
anton: aw
anton: is it not my time lmao
you: yeah
you: its someone else's schedule tonight
anton: ouch
you: jk nyahahah be safeee !! hope u rest well toni <3
anton: am i allowed to think of you during the flight?
anton: ^~^
you: well yes
you: as you should be.
you: even when you're not in flight
you: you have to think of me all the time
anton: why
anton: do u think of me all the time? :P
you flirt back as well. but in all fairness, he's the clingier and more attention-needy one between the two of you.
anton: BABY
anton: just incase u miss me today 🥸
you: your neck is sooo
you: ill mark them
anton: go ahead
anton: but youre 2 hours away loll
you: so what
you: didnt u know? im a vampire
anton: lmao come bite me then
and you accidentally fell asleep after discussing with him about twilight for an hour.
lately, he’s started this thing where he sends voice messages right before he sleeps. it's never anything important, just the sound of his sheets rustling and his voice sounding deep and raspy from tiredness, murmuring about his day until he eventually drifts off while the recording is still going.
iloveswimmingsomuch sent a voice message [0:20]
("...moment of weakness but i want to see you. goodnight, baby.")
[you]: someone’s bold tonight lol
[iloveswimmingsomuch]: just the facts
[iloveswimmingsomuch]: :)
on a random 3am night, you received not just another piece of his "moment of weakness," but it came with a selfie of him in bed. in bed. yeah.
anton 🦕🐶: can't sleep lol
you were jolted awake by the vibration, but you didn't respond, even though you wanted to. you’ve started to crave his attention more lately, that little hit of dopamine whenever his name pops up. but tonight, the pull of sleep was heavier than the need for the warmth he gives you every time he reaches out. you let the phone slip from your hand, his face being the last thing you saw before drifting off.
sometimes it goes like...
[antinitonny] replied to your story: wat da hek
[antinitonny] replied to your story: you're so beautiful
[antinitonny] replied to your story: 🫨🫨🫨
and when you're bored or just feeling brave enough to return the favor:
[you]: you're so hot
[you]: YUMMMM biceps
[iloveswimmingsomuch]: all for you 🙂↕️
[you]: delete that story before anyone else flirts with u omg?
[iloveswimmingsomuch]: got it 🫡
then there are the nights when he’s had a few too many. the filter he usually keeps and the one that pretends this is all just a game...seemingly starts to slip.
anton 🦕🐶: [0:12 voice message]
(in the audio: "dude i'm literally... i’m staring at our chats. why are you so far away? it’s actually annoying. come here. please?")
anton 🦕🐶: i miss u
anton 🦕🐶: no like. for real.
anton 🦕🐶: don’t laugh at me tmrw lol
you: STFU ARE YOU DRUNK ??????
he was. he called you that night and slurred a lot of things that sounded way beyond the status you have with him.
anton 🦕🐶: HIIIII
anton 🦕🐶: HOW ARE YOU BABYYY
anton 🦕🐶: thinking about u rn :// good thing u messaged haha
anton 🦕🐶: 🙂↕️
you're still non-committal, and you bet he still is. yet diving back into your chat with him after a long day, or the way he’s the first person you want to tell when literally anything happens...it’s starting to feel less like a game and more like coming home.
you: OH MY GOD
anton 🦕🐶: babe did something happen
anton 🦕🐶: helloooo?
you: omg omg omg
you: HOLD ON
anton: WHAT HAPPENED?
you: the tea abt my friends ex im telling u omg waitt
anton 🦕🐶: oh
anton 🦕🐶: i cant wait IM CALLING NOW
or when you need him...
you: thank you for listening :(((( im gonna cry bcos of your choice of words
anton 🦕🐶: i gotchu :) now go to sleep
you: ngl your face was too distracting
you: patrick drooling meme
some days when he thinks someone's 'entering' the scene...
[antinitonny] replied to your story: who’s that lol
[antinitonny] replied to your story: the guy in the beige shirt.
[you]: just a friend! why? u jealous antony? :p
[antinitonny]: nah.
[antinitonny]: 🤯
[you]: you're definitely jealoussss ok got it
[antinitonny]: i’m not.
[antinitonny]: why would i be jealous you're not even mine
[you]: defensive :p
[antinitonny]: i’m not.
[you]: he's just a friend lmfao stop it alr
[antinitonny]: ok
[antinitonny] sent a photo.
he was consistent. for someone who's just flirting with you, he was too consistent and so boyfriend.
it was never supposed to become anything, but at least you and anton are having fun. even with the uncertainty of where this is leading, you’re just glad it’s him on the other side of the screen. that’s all that matters, right? it’s a constant game of seeing who bends or who breaks first, under the weight of a non-committal label that’s starting to feel way too small for whatever this is.
anton 🦕🐶: i l*** you
you: ?
you: 🧐🧐🧐🧐
anton 🦕🐶: ill just say it upfront when we finally see each other
fluff, idol!anton, gender-neutral. idk why i wrote this at 2am so its just ... full of thoughts :3
after a hectic pileup of schedules, riize was finally given the break they desperately needed.
anton, your boyfriend, had insisted on flying you and his family out to sapporo. the time off wasn't quite enough for him to fly all the way home to new jersey, so a quick trip to japan it was.
you were standing awkwardly in front of him and his family outside the yakitori restaurant where you’d just finished dinner, terrified that a fan might spot him. while the family chattered away about the food, you lingered beside anton, mindlessly kicking at the snow with your boots. you were all just waiting for the private van to pick you up. hurry before anyone sees the anton lee, damn.
truthfully, you were a hundred percent scared. everyone you were with was easily recognizable, and you, being a private figure, could easily spark rumors that might damage anton’s career. you instinctively distanced yourself whenever you felt eyes on you. your relationship had its own unwritten rules to protect his image, which was completely fine by you.
still, he was chill about it and reassured you constantly. his family was also incredibly kind and protective, especially since you had been close to them since back when you and anton were just friends.
nevertheless, sapporo was safer than most places. there were fewer people here, and the heavy layers of winter clothing helped the whole family remain undercover.
"are you okay?" anton asked, reaching out to fix your scarf. you gave him a pointed anyone-could-see-us look.
you only nodded as the private van pulled up. you sat next to anton in the back, of course.
once inside, anton finally peeled off his gloves and quickly caught your hand. he gave you a faint smile before leaning in to kiss your cheek. "i missed you."
you furrowed your brows in response to his cheekiness and chuckled. "we’ve literally been together the whole day, ton. we woke up next to each other. we skied and ate dinner together."
"can't i still miss you? also hey, i'm allowed to be clingy now. no one can see," he pouted. you playfully pushed his face away, unable to hide your tenth grin—and reddening cheeks—of the day.
when you arrived back at the hotel, he pulled you back before you could head inside. he told his family that the two of you were going to stroll for a while and would be back before midnight.
unsure of his plans, you raised an important question. "do you need help filming for the vlog?" he’d been tasked with filming this trip for youtube content. you usually helped him capture clips, though it was a struggle not to giggle every time he did something dorky or joked around for the camera.
he shook his head. "i mean, we could. but i just want some solo time with you."
you could only nod in agreement. anton caught your hand and started walking until you reached a nearby vending machine.
it was already the third night of the trip, and so far, it hadn't been scandalous at all. you weren't sure if it was pure luck or a calm before the storm, but nothing had happened to anton or his family. yet, you were still overthinking to the max.
the night was quiet, the air felt pure, and the cold atmosphere of sapporo felt safe and comforting. you cherished the silence. moments like this were rare. there wasn't much time in his world that allowed for consecutive days together. it wasn't often you were even in the same time and place.
normally, you were time zones apart. you had both grown used to it—existing behind screens, staying up late to keep up with each other, and learning the rhythm of each other's lives through shared chat bubbles. it was the "normal" of your relationship, alongside the hard truths you had long since accepted. dating him felt like agreeing to a long list of terms and conditions, and you were okay with that.
there were consequences, and you weren't naive to them. but anton made you feel so secure. every moment you shared, especially now that he had dedicated time for you, felt like the perfect reality.
holding hands while walking through the snowy night after a year of facetiming—this was a rare, perfect memory. after this trip, it would be the thought that kept you going until the next one. you knew he would miss this just as much; reality would be waiting for him again in a few days.
he stopped in his tracks and stood in front of you. when he let go of your hand, your thoughts halted. you had been wandering the streets for twenty minutes; the road was empty and the pavement was painted white as the snow continued to pile up.
assuming he wanted photos for the gram, you reached for the phone in your pocket. you angled it to take boyfriend-shot photos of him. he smiled and posed instantly. he even danced to love 119 in an instant.
"you're so silly."
"idol instincts," he joked.
you kept clicking the shutter until he looked straight into the camera. you could feel his gaze through the screen as you watched him.
"i love you," he muttered.
anton giggled at how caught off guard you were.
you stood frozen, as if a pile of snow had just collapsed on you. for a moment, your hands felt colder and you blinked rapidly in confusion.
he smiled wider and walked closer. "i said, i love you." your shock finally transitioned into a smile that he swore warmed him up instantly.
you hit his chest, not knowing how to act. "uhm, i know?" trying to act normal after that gesture.
"that's all? baby, i was trying to be romantic!" you turned away from him, bashfully starting to walk again.
it was such a sweet gesture. he still had such an effect on you, and he always would, regardless of how simple or grand his actions were.
anton laughed as he caught up to your pace, suddenly reaching out to pull you into a warm backhug. he wrapped his long arms around your waist and buried his face in the crook of your neck, his heavy winter coat pressing against your back and forcing you to stop walking.
he leaned his weight onto your shoulders. you nudged him gently, your eyes still scanning the quiet street for any stray witnesses.
you were fine with whatever version of him you were allowed to have. you were content, and no amount of public restrictions or company rules could change the depth of what you felt for him. loving anton meant loving the person behind the stage —the one who got excited over snow and held your hand like it was his warm packs to survive the negative degree weather.
keeping the entirety of all you're allowed to have with anton was a constant struggle, and the fear of "what if" was always there, but it paled in comparison to the quiet peace of his presence.
a transient warmth in the middle of a cold winter night.
as the snow fell silently, you realized this quick trip wasn't just a break from work for him and a time for the both of you, it was a core memory. it was also a brief window where his world you're existing in didn't belong to the cameras or the company, but just to the two of you.
realizing you wouldn't have another moment like this all year, you stayed wrapped in anton's embrace and held his arms.
no matter how many miles or rules stood between you, his heartbeat against your back was the only home and security you truly needed.
"so, are you gonna kiss me or...?" you poked his arm.
he whispered, "i think i'll save that when we get back to our room."
sfw (tho slight suggestive at the end) [kinda wordy i got away lmfao]
- you don't really like the idea of flirting or being in a relationship with a friend from the same circle
- but all of a sudden, someone is changing that narrative. that someone = anton.
- basically, you've been in the same circle since freshman college. the circle has its own ~sub-units~, as to what your friends would like to call them. anton is usually with sohee and the guys yada yada
- it all started at a drinking game during wonbin's birthday
- everyone was asked who's their type in the circle; everyone answered safely and with no malice, some answering none. but alcohol got to you and you just blurted out anton's name in response to the question.
- everyone was silent. the actual guy named anton took a shot and returned your name in response to the question.
- everyone cooed, everyone cheered. but there's a certain shared atmosphere with anton that suddenly became too thick that night.
- after that night, anton suddenly became flirty with you. initially, you just saw it as a normal thing. he's like that—a gentleman and a sweet guy.
- it all officially started when he would randomly message you or send you tiktok and instagram reels. you went from nada to having an ongoing tiktok streak of 35 already. ever since, both of you have established that he will facetime you as both of you study. sometimes, he's practicing a cello piece while you're stressed out with org work, but you never get annoyed
- oh, also, he would always sing to you as he practices with his guitar or piano. that's where you start getting annoyed... because you're definitely falling. lol anyway
- well, you could say your battery has already deteriorated from how you and anton would always go on a sleep call
- sitting next to you in hangouts, scooting closer to you on couches, opening the cap of your bottle, resting his shoulder on yours, quickly dropping to his toes to tie your shoelaces, cleaning your utensils when the circle decides to eat outside, explaining to you (in his soft-spoken voice) what the group was bickering about or what the boys were debating about, and so on
- one time, he insisted on having you on his lap during a car ride where only one person brought a car. so you spent an entire hour stiff and breathless as you were settled on his lap. well, sohee was on wonbin's lap. your other girl friend was also on another girl friend's lap... so being on anton's lap seems normal, right?
- his hands steady your waist, your back pressing to his chest when the car suddenly brakes. anton, on the other hand, swears he could smell you and would slightly pull you closer so you can be comfortable. he asks you from time to time to adjust and assures you not to hold back your weight
- the small moments shared and the subtle actions that make your breath hitch continue every day. you let him, though. you don't say anything. and it's just as bad how these lines are blurred. again, you guys have been friends for a long time...
- it's all about the longevity and comfort you guys shared. LMFAOO you try to convince yourself that way
- but those aspects suddenly blur out when it's only the two of you studying together at the library and throwing flirty punches at each other.
- anton's sentences would often start or end with him referring to you as "pretty," "babe," or worse: "baby." and worst of all, you just let him and don't police that habit...
- when everyone's hanging out at wonbin's house, he would suddenly sneak up behind you and lean on your shoulders. he'd compliment how you look and how he likes your scent. apparently, the anton lee likes giving back hugs... and likes being hugged every night...
- also maintaining eye contact while being across the table or sofas? and he would just smirk when you break the eye contact
- to say the least, even the most boring errands—like grocery shopping, buying stuff you need for school, or waiting in line at the hospital—felt so exciting because anton was your company.
- you'd say everything is normal until it's 12 am, and anton's sleeping soundly with his face on your neck, laying on his side clinging to your waist
- then came the days when he would tease you, or plague your late-night talks with "what if" questions
- "you're lucky you're cute." "if you keep treating me like this, i might fall." "what if i actually took you on a real date?" "what if we actually kissed right now? nah, i'm just playing."
- and telling any of your friends about all of this could be the dealbreaker. so both of you never did. hell, you and anton never even addressed this elephant you're nurturing in your friendship... setup.
- "best friends premium?" you shamelessly muttered to your close girl friends when they caught all those selfies of you and anton in bed, cuddling together. or even those photos when the two of you went for breakfast 'dates.'
- sohee mentioned one time to everyone that anton's wallpaper is a baby photo of someone. "oh anton-ah, you didn't tell us you're talking to someone! who is it?" anton remained quiet but he quickly glanced at you to see your reaction.
- you bit your lip, hiding your smile from everyone who was teasing him. it was your baby photo that he found so cute when you showed him one time. you didn't know that he actually took a photo of it. and made it his wallpaper. like fuckkk WAT DAT MEAN?
- you noticed that anton seems different and acts unusual when you're wearing his clothes
- he's flustered each time :p
- so, you steal some of his clothes and he just lets you...
- you swore you saw him bite his lip one time when you were just wearing his oversized hoodie and your sleep shorts
- the subtle (or not-so-subtle) tension that arises when your previous fling or ex situationship is in the proximity. or when you're suddenly clingy with one of your friends (he doesn't care if it's a girl or a guy... he knows you can bend all genders so all of a sudden he's sulky???)
- "i'm not jealous though," he states.
- "okay. i didn't ask though. wha- anton, can you stop pouting?"
- but he still wins because he's holding your hand as you two walk to your house after the hangout or after your classes. sometimes its his biceps you're holding when the two of you are walking.
- finally, your and anton's tiktok streak says 50. so, 50 days of ridiculousness already of whatever-this-is with anton. you have fallen already. definitely. you feel conflicted at the same time. and you hope he does, too
- the routine you shared was present daily and anton was consistent in either being the flirty friend or stirring your feelings. well, to be fair, he's a romantic guy...
- the flower vase in your room was never empty. when he comes to visit for a movie night or a study night or a sleepover, he's never empty-handed as he enters your door. there's always a bundle of fresh flowers from the supermarket in his hands. if it's a special day, they're from a flower shop :3
- your friends can't do it anymore. they have noticed, they pointed it out, they sometimes pretend not to know or care. but they're just tired of seeing anton and you dilly-dally and call it friendship
- one night, as you and anton were walking to his house from a nearby burger joint sungchan recommended, you felt like it was already time to address it. his hand was warm on your palm, and he's just grinning as he sways it playfully
- you stopped in your tracks. the moment you guys were sharing earlier and the quiet of the night made it feel like it was the right time. "do you think we should date?"
- "definitely."
- "cool."
- "yeah, yeah."
- it felt sweet and innocent even though you guys were quiet and red the whole walk back to his place. you guys weren't teenagers anymore yet you acted like it—
- acting all innocent after that declaration of affection and suddenly you're in his lap, hoodie on the floor, your fingers threading through his hair carefully, and his lips almost engraved in yours
- you pulled away, unable to breathe. he whines.
- "well, i'm sorry i don't have the lungs of a swimmer." you playfully rolled your eyes.
- he scoffs lazily, followed by a smirk. "my bad."
- "remove your shirt, lee."
- anton follows and went for a quick kiss then pulled away out of nowhere. he rasped, "you know what else i could dive into?"
- you and anton both slept very well that night
- the following day, he asked you out properly for a date with all the things you could ask for (yet you never did because he did it all naturally!)
hi! first off, your blog looks so pretty 🥹 as for the wet dreams thoughts about anton: so we know he's an acts of service man, which got me thinking about him giving you a massage (shoulders, feet, anything) to help you relax, and ofc he wants to give you more which leads to soft sweet cuddly sex with the best aftercare 🤤
thank you so much 🥹 making my blog pretty requires a bit of extra work, but i think it’s worth it. wet dreams ooh i like that. i’m gonna tag my spicy asks/blurbs with that now 💙🩵
“My back hurts,” you had grumbled. It was an offhand complaint, one you expected nothing out of.
But Anton, ever the sweetheart, was determined to make life easier for you in any way he could. “Would you like a massage?”
You had told him he didn’t need to do that, but he insisted, and suddenly you were on your stomach, your shirt tossed aside as he kneaded your back and shoulders. The lights were dimmed and something laidback was playing.
Within his hands was great strength, but he always touched you with a tender care that bespoke his heart. A soft nudge here and a reverent stroke there.
“Where does it hurt? Here?”
“A little higher up.”
Anton moved his hand. “Here?”
“Yeah,” you said, face turned to the side.
He focused his hands on that spot for a while longer. You closed your eyes and sighed pleasantly, feeling the soreness and the weeks worth of stress that had amassed there all dwindling away. All that remained was the love you bore and contentment you found.
Anton kept a close eye and an open ear. When he prodded your flesh with the heel of his hands, just shy of your spine, you seemed to melt. The sounds you were making meant he was doing something right. Your breathing was a slow, easy thing, but those soft moans as he soothed your muscles were unmistakable.
Anton leaned over to whisper into your ear. “Tell if me if I’m being too gentle or too rough.”
“You’re just right,” you murmured. You loved the feel of him above. He wasn’t directly on top of you, but just the awareness of his proximity was exciting. It made your body erupt with a tension that was bred of anticipation rather than discomfort.
Anton noticed. He noticed everything about you. For a while he said nothing about it, lest he take you out of the headspace you were in, but after roughly twenty minutes went by, he stopped and asked, “Are you satisfied?” It was a question rife with implications, the one at the forefront being: Do you want more than this?
You rolled onto your stomach and met his eyes. When you saw him, it was more apparent. He was looking at you with fondness, with devotion… and with need. A need not only to be pleased, but to please.
One thing led to another, and you ended up beneath him for an entirely different reason.
“Baby,” you said softly. Every layer was shed. Not only yours, but his too. You were skin to skin, your back to his chest, hand in hand.
“Shh,” Anton whispered, kissing the back of your neck. Although he didn’t really want you to be quiet. “Don’t think. Just feel me. Tell me what you want.”
You shuddered as his voice tickled your neck. “Slower.”
He slowed his thrusts to a lighter pace in a dramatic demonstration of obedience. “Like that?” he asked playfully.
You laughed, reaching behind you to thwack at him. “Anton!”
The sound made him smile. “Kidding,” he murmured. He picked back up, settling on something deep but comfortable. “Is that good?”
The spots he was hitting made you dizzy. “Just like that. Don’t change anything…”
“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered, listening to the sound of your bodies meeting.
You moaned.
“You know what I’m gonna do to you after this?” Anton asked, his voice featherlight. The music was still going, having become faintly sensual. “I’m going to help you clean up because I noticed your eyes drooping earlier. Then I’m going to put your lotion on for you.” His hands began to rub your skin. “And I’ll put on those animals videos to distract your brain while I make you tea so you don’t fall asleep. Hopefully.”
“God,” you mumbled. “I love you.”
Anton kissed the top of your head. “I love you more.”
You weren’t thinking. You were just feeling. Every long stroke of him within you, filling you, fitting you, finishing you. Some things just made sense. Being with Anton—”his body on top of yours, sharing his warmth, his sweat, his every breath—“was one of those things.
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